Lies and videotape: Stephanie Boyd asks how corporate malefactors avoided justice in Peru when the evidence was right there for all to see on Peruvian reality TV - Bribery

New Internationalist, July, 2003 by Stephanie Boyd

'This case could not have been clearer,' says Diana Ruiz of Project Underground. 'If the Bank had any intention of weeding out institutional corruption it would at least have investigated,' she told me, adding that the Bank's proudly touted 'zero tolerance' for corruption is a 'sham'.

The Godfather tapes

One Peruvian lawyer, however, was convinced that justice should prevail. A few months after Murdy's press conference, Ronald Gamarra, a special government prosecutor investigating corruption, submitted new evidence of foul dealings in the Newmont case before Peruvian justice officials. In a crackling audio-tape from a 1998 phone conversation, a man believed to be Lawrence Kurlander, Newmont's then-senior vice-president and chief administrative officer, asks Montesinos to help the company win their case against the French firm.

'Tell him I'm going to help him with the voting,' says Montesinos to Kurlander's translator.

'I hope so,' replies Kurlander.

Only the ponderous refrain from The Godfather is missing during the next moment of high camp. The two men are discussing their 'friendships'.

Kurlander: 'I want a friend for life.'

Montesinos: 'That's right. Thanks for telling me what you've just told me, and you already have a friend.'

Instead of questioning the tape's authenticity, a Newmont spokesperson cryptically responded that the audio was 'old news'. The company has refused to confirm -- or deny -- Kurlander's identity on the tape. Newmont was luckier with' Gamarra's second damaging item -- copies of bank documents suggesting the Peruvian judges on the case received $930,000 in bribes from Newmont's Peruvian partner. The bank in question, Peru's Banco de Credito, issued a terse statement claiming the documents were false.

The great banking gods had spoken. Ronald Gamarra, the mortal prosecutor who dared challenge the mighty Kings of Gold, was removed from the case. No-one thought to question the close association of Banco de Credito's president, Dionisio Romero, with Newmont and its Peruvian partner. Romero had, after all, appeared in more than one Vladi-video.

Collective amnesia

Today, reporters searching for a follow-up on the case are met with silence and blank stares. Everyone associated with the investigation suffers from collective amnesia. Gamarra claims he does not even know if the case remains open. Choosing his words with caution, Gamarra insists: 'I was just doing my job by handing the documents to (Peru's) judicial authorities.'

An insider with Peru's Ministry of Justice suspects the case has been quietly shelved to the mouldy recesses of a distant filing cabinet: 'The problem is that there are more than 240 corruption investigations related to Montesinos involving over 1,300 people,' he explains sheepishly. Pressure from powerful corners must make it awfully easy to misplace files.

It's also easy to lump the blame on genuinely nasty, deposed rulers and let the bribe-givers who dangle the golden carrots get away. Latin American dictators and their cronies are easier targets than faceless corporations, especially mining firms without world-famous brands to maintain.