The Backdating Molehill Revisited

The Backdating Molehill Revisited. By Holman W Jenkins, Jr
Why are the prosecutions going so badly? Maybe because there was no crime.
WSJ, Dec 16, 2009

It pains us, naturally, to see our forecasts and premonitions borne out in such exacting detail in the government's backdating prosecutions—why didn't we take our moment of searing foresight to the dog track instead?

Yesterday a judge threw out, with resort to unceremonious language, criminal charges against Broadcom co-founder Henry Nicholas III.

Mr. Nicholas, a physically large man, with an erratic personality, and accused of patronizing drug dealers and prostitutes, must have seemed a prosecutors' dream, since he gave them so much to talk about besides the details of backdating, which when examined closely invariably lead careful reasoners to wonder: Where's the crime here?

Mr. Nicholas did not benefit from any backdated stock options. He was Broadcom's largest shareholder, thus had no natural or unnatural interest in overpaying employees with backdated stock options. The company's outside auditor also appears to have blessed the essential no-no here, which amounts to reading into accounting rules a logic and coherence that didn't exist at the time.

The goal of backdating, it becomes clearer than ever, was to motivate employees at the lowest possible cost to shareholders. This was done by granting stock options that, at the date of issue, were "in the money"—because, it appears, Broadcom and hundreds of other Silicon Valley companies discovered in practice what a Nobel Prize in economics had discovered in theory: That people overvalue a seeming bird in the hand.

As far as we know, no court has gotten to the essential nullity of the backdating "wrong," but U.S. District Judge Cormac J. Carney seems to have gotten close. Less than a week earlier, he had thrown out the conviction of Broadcom co-founder Henry Samueli—who had pleaded guilty—saying he did not believe Mr. Samueli had committed a crime.

Yesterday he dismissed the remaining criminal charges against Mr. Nicholas and the company's former chief financial officer William J. Ruehle, saying the government's behavior had been "shameful," that it had made a "mockery" of a defendant's constitutional rights, and that prosecutors had "intimidated and improperly influenced" three crucial witnesses, including threatening one with prosecution if he repeated testimony already given to the SEC in a civil proceeding.

Now, call us cynical, but aren't threats often used against employees to turn them into friendly witnesses for the government? The judge complained that prosecutors had improperly leaked details of the investigation to the press—also unattractive behavior by government servants, but not exactly unusual.

Indeed, it's hard to escape the sense that such behavior was judged especially beyond the pale in this case because it was in the service of a prosecution that fundamentally never deserved to be brought.
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To be sure, because of the incoherence of the applicable accounting rules, Broadcom had to take the biggest charge of any company to rectify its accounting for employee stock options: $2.2 billion. Investors would have understood, though, that this was not real cash, that indeed under then-regnant accounting rules Broadcom could have tried to give away the entire market cap of the company to employees without taking an accounting charge, had it simply issued "at the money" options instead of "in the money" options.

As we say, most backdating cases amount to companies trying to behave rationally amid irrational accounting rules, rather than the media's standard trope of businessmen a-lyin' and a-stealin'. Deep, rich and disappointing, then, is the irony of a recent decision by federal prosecutors to have a second go at another former Silicon Valley CEO, Gregory Reyes, of Brocade Communications

All that distinguished the Brocade case from hundreds of other instances of backdating was a prosecutor's allegation that, in order to effect backdating, Mr. Reyes had misled the company's own finance department.

This was laughable, since the SEC was simultaneously charging two former heads of Brocade's finance department with participating in and profiting from backdating. The prosecution's sole witness on the vital point recanted almost as soon as she got off the stand, and a federal appeals court eventually overturned Mr. Reyes's conviction on grounds of prosecutorial misconduct.

Why a U.S. attorney in San Francisco would want to try Mr. Reyes again is a mystery to us, but maybe it's time for an investigation of backdating investigations.

We can't close without mentioning the exemplary diligence and enterprise with which, way back when, certain reporters and editors uncovered the backdating phenomenon, and then the intellectual sluggishness with which they analyzed it.

They found an interesting story (one that fit well under the current interest in behavioral economics) and then got it fundamentally wrong by insisting on shoving it into a procrustean off-the-shelf narrative of executive "greed."

Indeed, for want of a single paragraph explaining why backdating could be (in the words of a recent academic paper) a case of optimum contracting between companies and employees, we might have avoided the waste and injustice of these misguided backdating prosecutions.