Former senior executive of Alstom in the Philippines, Frdric Pierucci's life was turned upside-down on April 4th, 2013 when he was arrested by the FBI under the Foreign Corruption Practice Act that allows the arrest of anyone, anywhere for suspicion of corruption.
Matthieu Aron is a journalist and former associate director of the Nouvel Observateur and former managing editor at France Inter . He has followed Frederic Pierucci's story since the beginning.
The American Trap
Frdric Pierucci
www.hodder.co.uk
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
Copyright Frdric Pierucci 2019
The right of Frdric Pierucci to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Translated from the French by Deniz Gulan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
eBook ISBN 9781529326888
Hardback ISBN 9781529326864
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.hodder.co.uk
Dedicated to my wife and children
Contents
Out of respect for their privacy, the names of the members of Frdric Pieruccis family,
as well as those of his relatives and close friends, have been changed.
Authors note
Alstom, as it once was, has ceased to exist. I thus wish to pay tribute to my former colleagues, workers, engineers, technicians, sales staff and project managers, who strived for decades to produce high-performance state-of-the-art products that were the envy of our rivals and helped guarantee Frances energy independence.
Let there be no misunderstanding. Though this book highlights a series of disastrous decisions, I still cherish the memories of the solidarity and team effort that shaped my daily existence for twenty-two years.
Foreword
This book tells the story of what I discovered through bitter experience about how the United States of America, in the guise of the global fight against corruption and terrorism, conducts its underground economic warfare.
Over a period engulfing more than ten years, the United States has succeeded in destabilizing the largest European multinationals. The American Department of Justice (DOJ) targets their senior managers, incarcerates them if necessary and nets billions of dollars in fines by coercing those companies to plead guilty.
Since 2008, thirty corporations have each paid out fines above $100 million to the American Treasury. Sixteen of them are European (five are French, three are German, two are British) and just seven are American.
European corporations will have shelled out a total of more than $6 billion, with American corporations paying three times less. French corporations alone have already paid a total of nearly $2 billion and six of their executives have been indicted by the American judiciary.
I am one of them.
I refuse to remain silent any longer.
This is my story, from my perspective, as I lived and experienced it.
Chapter 1
Shock and disbelief
I have become an animal. Draped in an orange jumpsuit, chains are wrapped around my chest, handcuffs lock my feet and hands. I can hardly walk or breathe. I am a tied-down brute. A creature snared in a trap.
Last night they threw me into a cell where the stench is so strong, I feel giddy. No windows, just a tiny slit beyond which I guess is a courtyard. Then there is the noise, the quarrelling, the fights, the screams, the incessant screams. Its a nightmare. Im hungry and thirsty, very thirsty. Water hasnt touched my lips for eight hours, since the announcement came, turning my life upside down.
A seemingly insignificant polite message by a Cathay Pacific flight attendant with a perfect English accent. Her dulcet tones forebode disaster: Mr Pierucci is kindly requested to present himself to the cabin crew upon landing.
The Boeing 777 I was on had just touched down at New Yorks JFK airport. I had left Singapore at dawn. After a stopover in Hong Kong on a journey of more than twenty-four hours, I was deadbeat. It was 14 April 2013 and 8 p.m. The pilot had completed his flight plan to perfection. The aircraft was just arriving home when the voice resounded out.
Should I have been suspicious? Right now, Im knocked out by jet lag, even though Im used to long-haul flights. At forty-five years old, after having been based in Algiers, Manchester, Hong Kong, Beijing, Windsor (Connecticut), Paris and Zurich, I currently live in Singapore. During my two decades of globetrotting for Alstom, I am used to receiving this type of message, whether it is to report a rescheduled meeting or a mobile phone forgotten during a stopover.
So without any particular misgivings, I presented myself to the chief flight attendant. The young woman looked a bit embarrassed. The aircraft door opened and, with a shy and fleeting gesture, she points out a group of people who are waiting for me when I get off the plane.
A woman, two or three men in uniform and two in plain clothes. The woman politely asks me to confirm my identity, then orders me to get off the plane. I barely have time to utter my name before one of the uniformed men grabs my arm, wrenches it behind my lower back, then takes my other arm and pushes it up onto my back, handcuffing me: Frdric Pierucci, youre under arrest.
Totally dazed, I dont react. I simply do not resist. Later on, I often wondered what would have happened if I hadnt left the plane? If I had refused to disembark? Would they have been able to arrest me so easily if I had not yet set foot on American soil?
I complied without flinching. Unwittingly, I made it easier for them, as we were still in theory in the international zone, even on the walkway after leaving the aircraft.
Right now, Im standing here in handcuffs. Shocked and astonished, I demand an explanation. The two plain clothes agents tell me theyre FBI detectives.
Weve only had one instruction, to arrest you as you leave the aircraft and escort you to FBI headquarters in Manhattan. When you arrive, a district attorney will brief you.
I have no choice but to settle for these meagre words and follow them through the airport, my hand shackled behind my back like a gangster with the two marshals in uniform watching over me like hawks.
I am conscious of the heavy gaze of the other passengers on me. After a few yards, I realize that, to keep my balance, I can only take tiny steps forward, which is no mean feat for someone of six foot one weighing 200 pounds. I feel and look like a freak. It could be a movie scene in which Im playing the role of D.S.K., who only two years earlier was just like me, on the streets of New York, handcuffed and escorted by the FBI.
Right now, though, Im more astonished by what is happening to me than concerned. It is obviously a mistake or a misunderstanding. The FBI has mistaken me for someone else and, after a few checks, my name will be cleared and life will be back to normal. There has been an increase in these types of incidents at New York-JFK in recent years.
