Drug War on the Web


Last month, when Citigroup bought Banamex, the second largest bank in Mexico, the deal was praised as good for the Mexican people and good for the banks. Citigroup vice chairman Robert Rubin told the press that the deal was the result of an overture from Banamex chairman Roberto Hernández Ramirez, who is worth $1.3 billion and has been promised a seat on the Citigroup board. On May 18, The New York Times faithfully regurgitated Hernández’s rags-to-riches success story.

But the fruit vendor turned billionaire has a dark side. According to statements made in 2000 by Al Giordano, publisher of the Mexican-based, Hernández has also been called a money launderer and a drug dealer. Giordano says he has reviewed published photos and testimony suggesting that Hernández has shared his Yucatán beachfront with the boats and planes of the cocaine trade.

Hernández has denied the allegations since they were first reported in 1997 by the Mexican newspaper Por Esto! Last summer, after failing in his efforts to get Por Esto! prosecuted in Mexico, the banker decided to sue his critics in New York. He hired Akin Gump Strauss Hauer & Feld, a firm that has represented alleged money launderers in the past, to file a libel suit on behalf of Banamex. His lawyer calls the portrayal of Hernández and Banamex as drug traffickers “utterly false,” and claims that Giordano’s comments “injured Banamex’s business reputation”—a conclusion which seems especially odd now that Banamex has been snapped up by Citigroup for $12.5 billion.

Wherever he found his money, Hernández has enough of it to sue Narco News for years—or at least until the Web site shuts down. But it would be a mistake to underestimate my friend Giordano, a respected reporter and activist who plans to defend himself against the libel charges. In what is shaping up to be the summer’s most entertaining media trial, Giordano will appear in New York State Supreme Court on July 20, where he plans to throw curve balls during the first round of oral arguments in the case.

In his motion to dismiss, Giordano chronicles his lifelong commitment to free speech and claims that every one of his supposedly libelous statements is what the courts call an opinion, because in each case he cited the facts on which his opinion was based. Via e-mail, Giordano wrote that the opinion defense has solid precedents, including a case in which an umpire sued Yankees owner George Steinbrenner for mocking his calls as “ludicrous” and incompetent. Because Steinbrenner referred to specifics to back up his opinion, his statement was found to be not defamatory. Giordano says, “We razzed the umpire—in this case, the government, which leaves certain white-collar traffickers alone.”

Attorney Thomas Lesser, who represents Narco News, also filed a motion to dismiss, arguing that the court cannot allow Banamex to sue the Web site in New York for content uploaded in Mexico. According to Lesser, that would be tantamount to giving any libel plaintiff permission to sue any Web site anywhere in the world—a precedent that would seriously threaten free speech.

In its response, Akin Gump calls Lesser’s argument a “straw man” and paints Giordano as having superhuman powers to raise money and affect public opinion. The plaintiff also claims jurisdiction in New York because Giordano has business contacts and does fundraising here.

It’s too early to call a winner, but as of this week, Giordano will stop posting new reports on his Web site. When he arrives in New York, he intends to dispense with the technicalities and turn the spotlight on the drug trade, which is the heart of the case. “We may be out-hollered and out-dollared,” he quips, “but we’re not outsmarted.”

Unlike Hernández, who Giordano says is “hiding behind his bank,” the journalist will step up to the plate. “Just showing my face,” he says, “will speak volumes about which side of this dispute is telling the truth.” Given his passionate opposition to the drug war, Giordano should have plenty of fans cheering from the bleachers.

Nobile Intentions

Journalist Philip Nobile has been dogging Don Imus for years, taping his radio show and vowing to put an end to the man’s “relentless racism and homophobia.” Until recently, Nobile’s complaints have been confined to venues such as, which plans to run an Imus-related ad in The New York Times on June 27.

But lately, Nobile has seen the mainstream media take up his cause. The trigger was pulled on June 5, when Imus commentator Sid Rosenberg called Venus Williams an “animal” and suggested that she and her sister could pose nude for National Geographic. Pretending to be shocked, Imus fired Rosenberg, only to rehire him the next day. The Times covered the ensuing controversy on June 18.

Meanwhile, NPR producers contacted Nobile, asking for his help on their own Imus story. On June 12, Nobile made a bold offer to NPR’s Brooke Gladstone: He would loan her a fine collection of Imus tapes if she would agree to confront NPR’s Cokie Roberts, a regular Imus guest, asking why she chose to remain silent. “If [Roberts] had the nerve to protest,” Nobile wrote to Gladstone, “Imus’s act of bigotry would shut down faster than you can say Jimmy-the-Greek.”

According to Nobile, Gladstone agreed to interview Roberts, and thereupon he turned over his tapes. He expected that Gladstone would interview him and ask his advice. But a week later, he had not heard from her. On June 21, he e-mailed Gladstone, accusing her of ignoring the “world authority” on Imus—and of preparing to use his tapes without negotiating a fee.

In an e-mail provided by Nobile, Gladstone fired back, telling him, “I am thoroughly tired of your judgments, your insinuations and your nagging.” She promised to call when the story was ready, then told him to leave her alone. “If you call me one more time,” she wrote, “suggesting I owe you ANYTHING besides a nominal fee for your tape, you will never hear from me again.”

Offended, Nobile withdrew the tapes. He says the incident suggests that Gladstone doesn’t take racism seriously; others see it as proof of Nobile’s insufferable belligerence.

Gladstone did not return a call for comment.

Strange Endings

Newsday is offering a voluntary early retirement plan to a group of employees who are 50-plus and have five years experience. Though 109 in the newsroom are eligible, a cap is set at 24, and only about a dozen are expected to walk.

Jack Newfield’s old desk at the New York Post has a new occupant: Mafia daughter and columnist Victoria Gotti.

A rumor is going around that will be gone in a month, but David Talbot calls that “complete and unfounded nonsense.” He says Salon is in the final stage of completing a new round of investment.