Not Everyone Convinced Former Trader Meant "It Wasn't A Question Of If I Was Going To Kill You, Just Of When" In A Figurative Sense

A year or so a go, commodities trader Vincent McCrudden was arrested for some things he put on a company website and some emails he sent out. The former involved an "execution" list containing the names of a handful of financial regulators, which he asked readers to aid him in crossing off ("I need your help," he wrote. "There are just too many for me alone"). The latter included an email to a CFTC staffer that noted: “You fucking corrupt piece of shit! I have let so many of you fucking corrupt mother fuckers off the hook for doing this to my life. You my friend are not getting away with this. I am going to do this my way now and you, you corrupt mother fucking piece of shit are the first on my list! laugh mother fucker…I am going to make you a test case!” To that end, the chief operating officer of the NFA was told, “It wasn’t ever a question of ‘if’ I was going to kill you, it was just of when." Were these emails particularly colorful? Yes. Should anyone who received them (or had their name placed on The List) been actually worried about losing his/her life? McCrudden could see how maybe things might have been interpretted that way, but no. As he told a judge, “I wrote provocative language on my website that could have been perceived as threatening. I would never intentionally hurt or cause bodily harm to another human being." And yet, this is still happening: Vincent P. McCrudden, a former New York commodities trader, was sentenced to two years and four months in prison for threatening to kill federal financial regulators. McCrudden, 51, who pleaded guilty last year, was sentenced today by U.S. District Judge Denis R. Hurley in federal court in Central Islip, New York...McCrudden said he was being persecuted for fighting back against unfair regulatory actions that destroyed his career. In addition to trading commodities, he ran his own hedge funds...McCrudden’s legal and regulatory entanglements began in 2000, when he was criminally charged with masking shortfalls in statements to his hedge-fund investors. The government said he included in his results money he expected to get from a lawsuit after Sumitomo Corp. (8053) was accused of manipulating the copper market. Ex-Trader McCrudden Gets 28 Months in Prison for Threats [Bloomberg]
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A year or so a go, commodities trader Vincent McCrudden was arrested for some things he put on a company website and some emails he sent out. The former involved an "execution" list containing the names of 47 financial regulators, which he asked readers to aid him in crossing off ("I need your help," he wrote. "There are just too many for me alone"). The latter included an email to a CFTC staffer that noted: “You fucking corrupt piece of shit! I have let so many of you fucking corrupt mother fuckers off the hook for doing this to my life. You my friend are not getting away with this. I am going to do this my way now and you, you corrupt mother fucking piece of shit are the first on my list! laugh mother fucker…I am going to make you a test case!” To that end, the chief operating officer of the NFA was told, “It wasn’t ever a question of ‘if’ I was going to kill you, it was just of when." Were these emails particularly colorful? Yes. Should anyone who received them (or had their name placed on The List) been actually worried about losing his/her life? McCrudden could see how maybe things might have been interpretted that way, but no. As he told a judge, “I wrote provocative language on my website that could have been perceived as threatening. I would never intentionally hurt or cause bodily harm to another human being." And yet, this is still happening:

Vincent P. McCrudden, a former New York commodities trader, was sentenced to two years and four months in prison for threatening to kill federal financial regulators. McCrudden, 51, who pleaded guilty last year, was sentenced today by U.S. District Judge Denis R. Hurley in federal court in Central Islip, New York...McCrudden said he was being persecuted for fighting back against unfair regulatory actions that destroyed his career. In addition to trading commodities, he ran his own hedge funds...McCrudden’s legal and regulatory entanglements began in 2000, when he was criminally charged with masking shortfalls in statements to his hedge-fund investors. The government said he included in his results money he expected to get from a lawsuit after Sumitomo Corp. (8053) was accused of manipulating the copper market.

Ex-Trader McCrudden Gets 28 Months in Prison for Threats [Bloomberg]

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Barclays' (Now Former) Head Of FX Strategy In Asia Has A Moment

Have you ever had construction going on nearby your home? Was it loud? Annoying? Did keep it keep you up in the middle of the night? Did you seriously consider opening your window and screaming "Hey! Shut the hell up down there!" or even confronting the people making all that racket face to face? Olivier Desbarres can relate. Or at least he can half relate. Because while most of you were probably talked out of making some sort of scene, either by your significant other or your own impulse control, on October 20th Desbarres decided to go in another direction, the one that involved introducing himself to the construction workers building a house near his own by screaming "I'm gonna go after you, I will haunt you, I'm gonna burn your fucking house down, I will find your fucking family," a task he noted would be fairly simple and straightforward ("I can find [them] very easily," he explained, "I'm a man with resources"), in case there were doubts (a fairly reasonable concern, as there are a lot of people in Singapore and how were these guys supposed to know he had an army of Barclays researchers at his disposal?). Still worried that the group wasn't taking his threats seriously on account of the casual look he was sporting that morning-- shorts and sandals-- Desbarres then picked up some sheet metal and launched it in their direction, presumably to demonstrate he meant business.* Although that would have been a good time to make his exit, at that point Desbarres noticed that one of the men had been recording him without his consent, leading to: “You’re filming me? You think that’s good? Put your fucking phone down because I’m going to wait for you to come out and take that phone and shove it up your fucking ass.” According to one local publication, this whole thing started because the construction crew began working at 8:45am one day in October instead of 9am, the time Desbarres preferred. In related news, according to a person familiar with Barclays' policies concerning construction site meltdowns, "We consider such behavior and language unacceptable. It does not meet the high standard of conduct that we expect of our employees." Desbarres, who is no longer with the bank, has not yet returned Dealbreaker's call for comment.** Foul-mouth foreigner threatens workers and warns he will hunt down their families [Stomp] Barlcays Far Too Candid Camera [Sunday Times via Ian Fraser] Barclays Capital Appoints Olivier Desbarres as Head of FX Strategy, Asia-Pacific Ex-Japan [BarCap] Related (re: Barclays employees losing their shit in public): Barclays Global Head of Investment Banking Writes Tear-Stained Letter To Son’s School, Demands Teacher’s Firing For Trash Talking Barclays, Making Son Cry *Insane ranting + shorts + sandals can leave room for interpretation re: is this guy serious or not; insane ranting + shorts + sandals + grabbing whatever shit from a construction site is within arm's reach and throwing at people is generally-- though not always!-- pretty clear. **Possibly because we called in the middle of the night local time and he is on his way to New York to throw a piece of sheetrock at us; you know how he gets when his sleep is interrupted.

Former Bears Stearns Employee Victim Of Harassment By Pizza

If you were going to try and extort money Bear Stears alum, how would you do it? Would you call him at his new job and talk trash about his wife? Would you call his house and tell his wife he was running around on her with another woman? Would you call his mother-in-law in New Jersey and breathe heavily into the phone? Or would you bring out the big guns and start sending pizzas, sometimes 20 at a time, to his home in New Canaan, as a sign you really meant business? Donato Anthony Minicozzi chose all of the above.

Russell Wasendorf Didn't Mean "I have embezzled millions of dollars from Customer accounts at Peregrine Financial" In A Literal Sense

Remember Russell Wasendorf? CEO of collapsed brokerage firm Peregrine Financial Group? Dirty blonde hair, about yea high? Opened his (attempted) suicide note with the words "I have committed fraud" and then went on to detail said fraud, writing: "Through a scheme of using false bank statements I have been able to embezzle millions of dollars from customer accounts at Peregrine Financial Group, Inc. The forgeries started nearly twenty years ago and have gone undetected until now. I was able to conceal my crime of forgery by being the sole individual with access to the US Bank accounts held by PFG. No one else in the company ever saw an actual US Bank statement.The Bank statements were always delivered directly to me when they arrived in the mail. I made counterfeit statements within a few hours of receiving the actual statements and gave the forgeries to the accounting department.” Using a combination of Photo Shop, Excel, scanners, and both laser and ink jet printers I was able to make very convincing forgeries of nearing every document that came from the Bank. I could create forgeries very quickly so no one suspected that my forgeries were not the real thing that had just arrived in the mail." ...apparently he was just kidding about all that and/or intended it to be read in more of an If I Did It style. The chief executive of Peregrine Financial Group Inc. on Friday pleaded not guilty to all 31 charges he faced of misleading federal market authorities as part of a long-running alleged fraud. Russell Wasendorf Sr., the head of the collapsed U.S. futures and currency brokerage, was formally charged this past week with 31 counts of misleading regulators, offenses that carry a maximum sentence of 155 years. It is one of the heaviest penalties sought in the wake of the last financial crisis. No further questions. Peregrine's Wasendorf Pleads Not Guilty [WSJ]

I Sell Cardboard Boxes For A Living

Excuse my agitation. It's rare I get a Friday night off. Such evenings go to shit when I'm at a party and I get introduced by my real profession. Can you imagine introducing casual acquaintances at a party with “Yeah, so this is Jimmy. He's a meth dealer”? I don't know, maybe you can. In which case I don't really want to be invited to your parties. As for me, left to my own devices, I tell people I'm a cardboard box salesman. That suits me nicely. Nothing against people who sell cardboard boxes: I've never actually met one. But when I tell people that's what I do, nobody ever asks me to elaborate on my workday. It's actually a backstory I stole from another bookie—a guy who always had an identity or two to spare along with a great mind and approach to the profession. I started by telling people I was an electricity meter reader, and then once some guy asked me “isn't that all done by computer now?” and I had that So-Totally-Busted look on my face. So my colleague got me into the cardboard box business, which never goes out of style by always being precisely out of style. So this time I got introduced as The Bookie and my head immediately starts scanning the room for Feds. I've watched all the movies—I'm looking at everybody's shoes, looking for G-man wingtips. No immediately suspicious footwear—and no way out as the crowd starts circling me asking me all the Usual Questions. No, I don't break people's kneecaps. No, I don't lend people money at 1% a week. No, I don't fix games or know more about sports than anybody else. It was turning into one of those Wizard of Oz moments: I'm just the old, fat guy behind the curtain, which suits me, when I was asked a question I felt the need to rant on: How come I'm living in he shadows here when I could be living large in Costa Rica? Believe it or not, I'm safer here. The US government is this two-headed beast. One head wants to raise tax revenues by legalizing more gambling. Whoops, “gaming”. If it's legal, it's no longer gambling, it's “gaming." That's not quite as Orwellian as “collateral damage” (dead civilians), but it still makes me smile bitterly. The government's other head is trying to shut down the offshore industry. Poker sites, online casinos, sports books—it's all in the crosshairs. And they're rounding up anybody on The List who sets foot in the Good Old USA. When that doesn't work, they try extraditing people, from everywhere. Costa Rica, Canada, the UK, Antigua, wherever. The extradition policy is the worst of it. Consider Bob Eremian. His client base was mostly Southern New England, with a little NYC and Jersey thrown in. He moved his operation to Antigua in the mid 90s, figuring that even if what he was doing in the US was illegal (the trial of Jay Cohen showed it would be), since it was legal in Antigua, he couldn't be extradited. That's a key part of extradition law, I'm told: what you're doing has to be illegal in both jurisdictions. Except Uncle Sam didn't come after Bob for making book, just like how he didn't actually go after Martha Stewart for insider trading per se. The Eremian charges were money laundry, tax evasion, and so on—things that were illegal in Antigua. 11 years after he was originally deported, the civil cases just kept coming. The US government's current instrument of choice is the Unlawful Internet Gaming Enforcement Act. It was tacked onto a bill about port safety. Honest. Life is too short. So I'm onshore and offline. Any trouble I'm going to get from the Law is going to be local. If caught, I'll spend some time doing graffiti removal or cleaning up a park. I'll sleep in my own bed. I don't need 16 hours a day in front of a computer screen trying to move my numbers faster than internet wiseguys can pick me off. I don't need to try to figure out Costa Rica's ever changing tax code. (When I left, sports books were charged, among other things, $1000 per computer monitor on the premises, per year.) I don't need to court the DOJ's wrath. But I still don't need my cover blown at parties. I sell cardboard boxes, period. It didn't help that a very good customer and his wife, my new part-time employee, were in the room making faces at me to see if they could get me to crack up or soil myself as I took questions. If the rant hadn't gotten me four new customers, the night would have been a total bust.