Born to Steal: When the Mafia Hit Wall Street by Gary R. Weiss

nothing had been done. The deposition doesn’t identify the broker or brokerage. It does say that
     the broker didn’t obey a NASD request for information—which is grounds to be automatically barred from Wall Street, forever.
    The broker wasn’t barred. In fact, nothing happened to him. Why was that? Because somehow the entire case file—a huge amount
     of paperwork—was “lost.”
    “I said, what do you mean?” Gilani testified. “This was a case with seventeen exhibits this high. It wasn’t just one folder
     you could lose.”
    This got Gilani mad, which was why the NASD lawyers wanted the file-loss episode brought out. “Team players” just didn’t make
     a fuss about things like disappearing files.
    Fuss No. 2 involved another incident concerning another unnamed broker and brokerage firm. The broker had stolen from a client
     (“misappropriated,” in NASD-speak). The broker had also risked an automatic bar from Wall Street by not responding to information
     requests. Gilani had recommended action, the NASD had done nothing, and—aha!—that upset Gilani.
    “Did you disrupt the meeting or not, Mr. Gilani?” a NASD lawyer asked.
    “No. No,” Gilani responded.
    “Did you disrupt the meeting or not?” the lawyer persisted.
    “No. No. I asked what happened . . . why was this case filed without action [concerning] the underlying violative act, and
     the fact that the rep also failed to appear for the interview. The combination of those are sufficient to bar a man from the
     industry,” Gilani replied.
    “You were very agitated when you said that. Weren’t you, Mr. Gilani?” said the NASD lawyer.
    At the time, the NASD was portraying itself as a regulatory William Tecumseh Sherman, waging scorched-earth warfare against
     stock fraud. Its public image was on the line, and this “examiners mustn’t get agitated” line of defense simply was not going
     to do the NASD any good. Gilani was a major embarrassment. He had to be silenced. He was.
    When Gilani filed his suit, which was in October 1996, he spoke freely about his experiences with journalists. Gilani’s complaint
     was even posted on his lawyers’ website.
    Gilani’s suit dragged on through the courts for a little over two years until February 25, 1999, when his lawyers filed a
     one-sentence stipulation and order agreeing that “all claims asserted in this action are hereby voluntarily dismissed with
     prejudice and on the merits.” Translation: Gilani was settling the suit. And, suddenly, the window that Gilani had opened
     on the NASD slammed shut.
    Massood Gilani was no longer able to talk about his experiences at the NASD. Several years later, his lawyer said that Gilani’s
     ability to speak now required the permission of the NASD—and the NASD wasn’t giving permission. *
    So all that remains in the public record is a sheaf of legal papers in a courthouse archive, and its portrayal of a NASD that
     worked hard to keep all those
complaints
from disrupting the daily routine at 88 Pine.
    Well, not all. Other glimpses of life at the NASD in the early 1990s have emerged now and then. Such as the account of a person
     who worked there when Hanover applied for its first set of papers from the NASD. He is familiar with how it happened. And
     he was always puzzled by it.
    He’s not a Massood Gilani. He wasn’t fired and doesn’t have an ax to grind against the NASD. But still, he wonders what the
     hell happened.
    When Ageloff, Catoggio, and Schatzer organized Hanover Sterling in 1991, they were rejected. “Initially they were turned down,
     the NASD didn’t like their backgrounds,” says this person. “And then all of a sudden it got accepted. And I could never figure
     out how they got approved. I was surprised.”
    As the years went on, Louis had his own experiences with the NASD. They were always good experiences. Or at least, they weren’t
     bad experiences. But in the early stages of his career he didn’t have any