Enron CEO haunted by his guilt
By Daily Bruin Staff
Jan. 29, 2002 9:00 p.m.
 Cody Cass You’re entitled to your own
opinion. Voice yours by sending it to Cody at [email protected].
The sound of his third-story bedroom window creaking open awoke
Kenneth Lay from his sleep. But instead of being confronted by the
burglar or murderer he was expecting, the former CEO of Enron Corp.
found himself face to face with a lonesome ghost.
Lay was understandably shocked. Never in his dealings with the
devil had he ever been so close to anything without a soul.
“Come, take my hand,” said the spirit.
Not seeing any way out of this predicament, he obeyed the
spirit’s command. “Where exactly are you taking
me?” questioned the dumbfounded Mr. Lay.
“To happier times ““ those of Enron’s past. Now
come, our time is short,” said the spirit as he took Lay into
flight.
Again Lay asked, “Spirit, please, where are you taking
me?”
“Houston in the 1990s. This is when your empire thrived.
Stock prices were soaring, you were a genius businessman, and your
employees were committed to the success of the company.”
“But none of that was enough,” came a third
voice.
Startled, Lay jumped as high as Enron stock rose skyward by
faulty accounting. “Who are you?” stuttered Lay as he
spun around.
“The ghost of Enron’s present, of course. Your time
in the past has come to a close. You’ll come with me
now.”
Seeing his former guide had disappeared, Lay followed this new
ghost to a home he’d never seen.
“This is the house of one of your employees. He works at
Enron headquarters,” lectured the spirit. “It is
Christmas morning 2001, but you will notice that his children are
opening presents without him. And his wife…”
“Is crying,” whispered Lay.
“Yes. Of course, we don’t know whether it’s
because her husband is in your office shredding incriminating
documents on Christmas morning or because his retirement plan is
now virtually worthless.
“Humbug,” declared Lay. “Don’t make me
the villain of their hardship.”
“You’re not the villain, you’re the culprit.
You banked $116 million in stock options while you banned your
employees from unloading plummeting Enron shares from their
401(k)s.”
The vision in front of them disintegrated, and a more grandiose
house took its place. “You know this house more than the
last?” asked the spirit.
“Ah, good old Cliff Baxter’s place. We’ve
spent many times together here,” said Lay.
Illustration by ERICA PINTO/Daily Bruin
“Unfortunately, you never will again. Your former vice
chairman committed suicide five days ago instead of facing criminal
charges for the scandal surrounding the Enron bankruptcy,”
said the spirit with a sigh.
“I couldn’t possibly have known…” began
Lay.
“Careers are ruined, futures are in jeopardy and a life is
lost,” screamed the spirit. “I’ve lost all
patience for your selfish ways.”
With that he vanished, leaving Lay to his thoughts. A dark,
hooded creature wasted no time in finding Lay and motioned for him
to follow. Assuming he would see Enron’s future, Lay followed
obediently.
What he encountered was more horrifying than even the last
spirit. Houston’s parks were nearly as littered with homeless
people as they were with trash. The upper-middle class homes had
been converted to housing projects. Children were in the streets
instead of schools, offering to wash cars, mow lawns or baby-sit
kids hardly younger than themselves; anything to earn a dollar.
“Spirit, what has happened to my wonderful city?”
gasped Lay. “How have so many people become so
destitute?”
“You.” lamented the spirit. “Or, rather, by
following your example. After Enron went bankrupt none of the
investigations could come up with any truly damning evidence.
Probations, community service and fines were levied, but no jail
time was given. No real punishments.”
The spirit’s speech became more fervent as he saw Lay
didn’t understand.
“Executives from other companies saw they could make quick
fortunes by copying your deceitful business and accounting
practices,” he wailed. “The country has a terrible
boom-bust economy which can sustain virtually no middle class.
You’ve made a lot of people unimaginably rich, but an entire
population has paid the price.”
Lay, shaken by the indigent state of his fellow man and the
booming condemnation of the spirit, began to weep.
“It’s not too late,” he pleaded. “I can
change. I will change.” He dropped to his knees and grabbed
the spirit’s robes: “I will make sure this never
happens!” His hands shook. “I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry, I’m so…”
Lay suddenly awoke and found himself in bed, wrestling his
sheets. “I’m so glad I’m the one having these
visions and not the investigators,” Lay sighed. “That
could cost me millions.”
