The New York Times’s DealBook once again publishes a story about how the valiant crimefighters at the SEC who really, really wanted to prosecute wrongdoers for the financial crisis but found themselves thwarted by the higher standards of “justice.”
That’s the gist, anyway.
The piece shows the pluses and minuses of the type of reporting practiced by the paper’s DealBook arm, whose DNA comes from Access King Andrew Ross Sorkin.
The peg is the fifth anniversary of the collapse of Lehman Brothers, for which no one has been charged—not civilly, the SEC’s bailiwick, let alone criminally, the Justice Department’s job—despite significant evidence that the company’s executives committed fraud.
On the plus side, we get new information about how and why the SEC failed to go after Lehman Brothers or its executives. We learn details about the back and forth between George Canellos, who headed the SEC’s Lehman team and didn’t want to charge anyone, and others in the agency, including Mary Schapiro, who apparently did.
On the minus side, that information is framed in a way that bends over backwards to excuse the inaction, which, even after reading this sympathetic piece, remains inexplicable.
For instance, this paragraph:
Yet The Times’s examination reveals new details about the breadth of the government’s effort — S.E.C. officials reviewed more than 15 million Lehman documents and interviewed some three dozen witnesses. The decision not to bring charges, the officials said, came despite early hope among investigators, whose careers likely would have benefited from bringing such a prominent case.
First, when the SEC says they “reviewed more than 15 million Lehman documents” that hardly means they read them. They searched keywords.
Worse, the NYT acts like it’s impressive that the SEC interviewed 36 people for its Lehman probe.
Let’s put this in perspective: Sports Illustrated, investigating NCAA infractions in the Oklahoma State football program, interviewed more than 100 people for its story, which is about petty cash payments, football players getting academic passes, and college students smoking, and occasionally selling, weed.
The Lehman Brothers “story” is about the biggest bankruptcy of all time—one that played a big role in taking down the global economy and costing the US somewhere between $6 trillion and $28 trillion. Yes, with a “T.”
I’d bet good money Gretchen Morgenson and Louise Story, the NYT’s very non-DealBook business reporters, interviewed three dozen people for their 2011 investigation into the dearth of financial crisis prosecutions, which The Audit featured in our Best Business Writing 2012 anthology. I have serious doubts that this latest story will be making it into BBW2014.
In the comments below the Times’s story—of all places—we get a glimpse of people the SEC didn’t talk to. A commenter claiming to be Oliver Budde, a former Lehman associate general counsel turned whistleblower, writes that “During all the investigations and all the anguished deliberations of Schapiro, Khuzami and Canellos, no one ever contacted me.” Budde was last driving Ryan Lizza around in a cab (I’m trying to contact Budde to confirm that he wrote the NYT comment, but it matches what he’s told BusinessWeek and others).
The worst part is that the SEC and the Justice Department were handed a detailed roadmap of “colorable claims” of accounting fraud by Lehman bankruptcy examiner Anton Valukas, who I’m also willing to bet interviewed far more than 36 people, and who found that top Lehman executives made the company’s balance sheet look $50 billion better than it actually was through an accounting ruse called Repo 105.
After summarizing the 2,200 page report, DealBook dispatches it this way:
But soon after its release, according to the officials involved in the inquiry, prosecutors and the F.B.I. lost interest in the case. They discovered that Repo 105 had nothing to do with Lehman’s failure and was technically allowed under an obscure accounting rule. Noting that London lawyers had approved Repo 105, prosecutors in Manhattan also worried they could not prove that executives intended to mislead investors.