No One Would Listen: A True Financial Thriller by Harry Markopolos (rainbow fish read aloud .txt) 📗

The only fund that asked what I thought were the right questions about my due diligence was Société Générale. The people I met with there knew their derivative math. They told me, “We like your risk controls. You’re the only guy who’s ever come in here and specified what we can lose. But that risk is too high for us.” Ironically, we found out in January 2008 that they actually weren’t such good risk managers, as an employee named Jérôme Kerviel defrauded them of more than $7 billion by executing a series of “elaborate, off-the-books transactions that circumvented the bank’s internal controls.”

These meetings generally lasted about 90 minutes, and Thierry would end each one the same way: “When can I have your answer? When shall I call you to find out how much you’d like to invest?” It was never “if you want to invest,” always “how much.” He was a master salesman.

While the objective of this trip was to introduce my product to these fund managers, it also turned out to be an extremely educational trip for me. I came back with a lot more knowledge about Bernie Madoff than I had expected—and what I learned changed my life.

My team had absolutely no concept of how big Madoff was in Europe. We assumed several European funds and funds of funds had invested with him, but we never appreciated the number of funds or the size of their investments. It became clear to me during this trip for the first time that Madoff presented a clear and present danger to the American capital markets—and to the reputation of the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). While obviously I had lost confidence in the SEC, I also knew that investors around the world believed that it offered them a great level of protection and that their money was safe. That was one reason they invested here. When they discovered that wasn’t true, that confidence in the integrity of the American markets that led people to invest in them was going to be badly shaken. When Madoff went down, and that was inevitable, the American financial system was going to take a worldwide beating to its reputation. A primary reason to invest in the United States would have disappeared.

Of the 20 meetings we had, the managers from 14 of those funds told me they believed in Bernie. Listening to them, I got the feeling it wasn’t so much an investment as it was some sort of financial cult. What was almost frightening was the fact that every one of those 14 funds thought that they had a special relationship with him and theirs was the only fund from which he was continuing to take new money. At first I thought the only reason they would admit to me, someone they didn’t know at all, that Madoff was managing their money was because they trusted Thierry, but then I began to understand that they were telling me this to impress me. The message was practically the same in every one of those 14 meetings: “We have a special relationship with Mr. Madoff. He’s closed to new investors and he takes money only from us.”

When I heard that said the first time I accepted it. When I heard it the second time I began to get suspicious. And when I heard it 14 times in less than two weeks, I knew it was a Ponzi scheme. I didn’t say anything about the fact that I heard the same claim of exclusivity from several other funds. If I had, or if I had tried to warn anyone, they would have responded by dumping on me. Who was I to attack their god?

What I did wonder about was what was going on in Thierry’s mind. He heard these 14 fund managers bragging, literally bragging about this special access, just like I did, and he knew it was a lie just like I did. But we never discussed it. Like Frank, I had previously tried to warn him. Before we’d left for Europe I’d told him, in these precise words, “You know Madoff is a fraud, don’t you?”

And just as he had done when Frank told him, Thierry became extremely defensive. “Oh no, that’s not possible,” he’d replied. “He’s one of the most respected financiers in the world. We check every trade ticket. We have them faxed. We put them in a journal. He’s not a fraud.”

I had considered asking to see those trade tickets, knowing I could use them to prove to Thierry I was right, but I didn’t. I was afraid that if I asked to see them he would think I was using them to reverse engineer Madoff, and I knew he wouldn’t let me kill his golden goose.

I cared about Thierry and I wanted to save him. After it had become clear that Thierry wouldn’t listen to me, I called Access’s director of research, who was a bright guy and understood derivative math, and told him that I had compiled a substantial amount of evidence proving Madoff was a fraud. “I get into the office at 6:30 in the morning,” I’d told him. “If you’ll come over half an hour early before tomorrow’s scheduled meeting, I can prove to you mathematically that Madoff is a fraud.”

He never showed up. And then I got it. He didn’t want to know. Thierry didn’t want to know. They were committed to Madoff; without him they didn’t exist. It was their access to Bernie Madoff that allowed Access International to prosper. So when Thierry heard each of these funds claim an exclusive relationship, there was nothing he could do about it. It changed nothing. I also felt absolutely no obligation to tell any of the 14 asset managers that Madoff was a fraud. I had no personal relationship with any of them, and I certainly didn’t want Bernie Madoff to know we were tracking him. Like Access, these funds needed Bernie to survive; they didn’t need