"Is the Justice Department Incompetent?"

 That's the title of this extensive article by New York Magazine.  Here's how it starts out:

“I’m here to declare that we are not part of the chickenshit club.”

That announcement came last month courtesy of Jonathan Kanter, the head of the Justice Department’s antitrust division and one of the stewards of the Biden administration’s ambitious, all-purpose antitrust-enforcement agenda. Kanter was speaking at the University of Chicago and was, improbably, in good spirits following a series of high-profile losses for prosecutors in his office. There had been acquittals in separate, closely watched criminal cases in Colorado and Texas, both involving alleged collusion in labor markets, as well as a second mistrial in a much-touted criminal price-fixing case involving executives in, appropriately, the chicken industry. After the department decided to try the chicken case a third time, the presiding judge ordered Kanter, whose job leading the antitrust division’s 700 employees is the first he has ever held at the department, to fly to Denver and explain the decision to him in person.

Kanter’s invocation of “the chickenshit club” was an apparent statement of purpose for a newly emboldened DOJ. The term became popular after the publication of a 2017 book of the same name by Jesse Eisinger, which held, in its simplest form, that government prosecutors failed to pursue big, white-collar criminal cases in the wake of the financial crisis because they were scared of losing.

Kanter argued that the department’s antitrust lawyers would not be deterred by the losses (which he tried, unconvincingly, to portray as partial victories). But a casual follower of the Justice Department’s performance in recent months might have detected a larger trend extending beyond Kanter’s purview overseeing the department’s civil and criminal antitrust cases.

Early this year, an appeals court reversed the convictions of two former Deutsche Bank employees who had allegedly manipulated a financial benchmark rate known as LIBOR. In March, a jury in Texas acquitted the one and only person charged in connection with the department’s investigation of Boeing following two crashes of its 737 Max jets after deliberating for just 90 minutes. A jury in Washington, D.C., acquitted two defendants who had been charged in a campaign straw-donor scheme. (As I have noted before, I used to work in the office that brought the Boeing prosecution and know some of the prosecutors, but I was not involved in the investigation. Before my time at DOJ, I worked on the internal investigation for Deutsche Bank that resulted in the LIBOR prosecution.)

Then last month, prosecutors lost the trial over the alleged plot to kidnap Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer after a jury acquitted two of the four defendants and hung on the charges against the others. Strictly speaking, this was not a white-collar case (unless you count the fact that so many of the alleged plotters were apparently working for the FBI), but it had some rough similarities — not just a major, highly publicized case that the department tried hard to win but also one in which deterrence was a major objective.

There have been victories, too — most notably the case against Elizabeth Holmes, who was indicted in mid-2018 and convicted following a trial last year after pandemic-related delays. More recent was the conviction in Brooklyn of a former Goldman Sachs employee who participated in a massive bribery and kickback scheme connected to a Malaysian sovereign wealth fund. Outside of the white-collar realm, the department has also been exceedingly busy with the January 6 prosecutions, and whatever concerns some of us may have about the scope and pace of that investigation, prosecutors’ performance in the courtroom has been impressive.

But the slew of recent setbacks has been hard to ignore, particularly in the middle of the department’s effort to tout its white-collar enforcement record and agenda. At this moment, well into the tenure of Merrick Garland, the notion that the department’s major problem is a failure of resolve seems less compelling in recent memory than ever, prompting some legitimate questions. Among them is whether Garland’s vision for the department and his understanding of its difficulties during the Trump years is as comprehensive as it needs to be.