Photo of Ann Lipton

Ann M. Lipton is a Professor of Law and Laurence W. DeMuth Chair of Business Law at the University of Colorado Law School.  An experienced securities and corporate litigator who has handled class actions involving some of the world’s largest companies, she joined the Tulane Law faculty in 2015 after two years as a visiting assistant professor at Duke University School of Law.

As a scholar, Lipton explores corporate governance, the relationships between corporations and investors, and the role of corporations in society.  Read more.

There have recently been several high profile news items about companies using dual class share structures.

First, Facebook announced that it would issue a class of nonvoting shares so that Mark Zuckerberg could maintain his control over the company via his supervoting shares, in a move reminiscent of a similar tactic by Google a couple of years ago.

(A fun game I like to play with my students: compare the stock prices of voting shares of Google with the prices of nonvoting shares, and then talk about the two, in light of the fact that Sergey Brin and Larry Page control the majority of the voting power regardless due to their supervoting shares.)

Second, Lionsgate announced it would be acquiring Starz, in a partially cash, partially stock deal.  Because Starz has a dual class structure – with supervoting power held by John Malone – the arrangement involves Lionsgate creating a new class of nonvoting shares.  Holders of Starz A shares will get cash and nonvoting Lionsgate shares, while holders of Starz B shares (e.g., Malone) get less cash, but both voting and nonvoting Lionsgate shares.

Third, Mondelez just made a bid to buy Hershey – one

Section 11 imposes liability for false statements in registration statements.  See 15 U.S.C. §77k.  Section 11 is distinctive in that the plaintiffs do not have to show fault on the part of any defendants – a sharp contrast with Section 10(b), which requires plaintiffs to prove that the defendants acted with scienter.

When it comes to imposing liability on corporate auditors who approve false financial statements, very often, Section 11 is the only viable option for plaintiffs.  This is because it is very, very hard to show that auditors acted with scienter – especially at the pleading stage.  When a company blows up, typically a lot of information becomes available that would help the plaintiffs demonstrate that there was fault within the corporate ranks.  But it is far less typical for information to become available against the auditor.  So Section 11 is really the only way for plaintiffs to go.

In Querub v. Moore Stephens Hong Kong, 2016 U.S. App. LEXIS 9213 (2d Cir. N.Y. May 20, 2016) (unpublished), the Second Circuit held that for Section 11 purposes, audit opinions are “opinions” in the manner described in Omnicare, Inc. v. Laborers Dist. Council Constr. Indus. Pension Fund, 135

As Rodney Tonkovic discusses in more detail, the plaintiff in Fried v. Stiefel Labs, 814 F.3d 1288 (11th Cir. 2016), has petitioned the Supreme Court to delineate disclosure duties in the context of trading by private companies.

Richard Fried was the former CFO of Stiefel Labs, which was privately held.  As an employee, he received stock as part of a pension plan.  When he retired, he sold the stock back to Stiefel (I don’t know much about the market for Stiefel stock, but I’m guessing that, since it was privately held, Fried didn’t think he had many alternative options).  Sadly for Fried, shortly after his sale, it was announced that Stiefel was being acquired by GlaxoSmithKline, and that negotiations had been in the works at the time of his sale.  By selling to Steifel instead of waiting for GSK’s acquisition, he missed out on, roughly, an additional $1.62 million.  He sued Stiefel, alleging that Stiefel had been obligated to disclose the negotiations to him at the time of his sale.

This is not something that comes up very often, but the case law that does exist tends to hold that insider trading principles apply both to private

I attended my first Law and Society meeting this year (made easier by the fact that it was held in New Orleans, my newly-adopted city!)   And as Joan indicated in a prior post, she gave a presentation on her most recent project, tentatively titled “Pillow Talk, The Parent Trap, Sibling Rivalries, Kissing Cousins, and Other Personal Relationships in U.S. Insider Trading Cases.”  And very shortly after she concluded, a news story dropped in my inbox about SEC v. Maciocio, involving two longtime friends charged in an insider trading scheme that lasted for several years. 

The reason the case interests me is that I assume the SEC (and the DOJ in a parallel criminal complaint) are teeing it up in light of the pending Supreme Court case of Salman v. United States

According to the SEC’s allegations, Maciocio worked for a pharmaceutical company that engaged in business dealings with several other companies.  Hobson was his longtime childhood friend.  The details of their relationship are described in the SEC’s complaint, including their days of Little League baseball, and daily phone calls and emails.

Hobson, as it turns out, was a securities broker.  So, Maciocio tipped off Hobson

How much do we trust institutional investors to protect their interests?

Delaware law has gradually been inching toward a recognition that in a stock market dominated by institutional investors, old assumptions – about a dispersed,  uninformed, and rationally passive shareholder base – must give way to a new recognition of shareholder sophistication and incentives.

You can see the tendrils of this growing awareness in, for example, opinions like Corwin v. KKR Fin. Holdings LLC, 125 A.3d 304 (Del. 2015), where the Delaware Supreme Court held that a shareholder vote in favor of a merger would act as a ratification of the directors’ conduct – a ruling that implicitly relied on an expectation of shareholder sophistication.  See id. (“When the real parties in interest—the disinterested equity owners—can easily protect themselves at the ballot box by simply voting no, the utility of a litigation-intrusive standard of review promises more costs to stockholders in the form of litigation rents and inhibitions on risk-taking than it promises in terms of benefits to them.”)  You can see it in then-Vice Chancellor Strine’s opinion in In re Pure Res. S’Holders Litig., 808 A.2d 421 (Del. Ch. 2002), where he held that controlling shareholder tender

Public companies are required to report certain material events within 4 business days on Form 8-K.  These events include such matters  as the departure of directors or officers, the disposition of assets, or material impairment of assets. 

In their paper Strategic Disclosure Misclassification, Andrew Bird, Stephen A. Karolyi, and Paul Ma find that in their 8-K filings, corporate managers seem to be taking a leaf from Roseanne’s bill paying system:

Specifically, Bird et al. find that companies frequently “misfile” their 8-Ks, categorizing them as miscellaneous “other” rather than properly identifying them in the appropriate category.  “Misfiling” is particularly likely to occur for negative events, and during periods when investor attention is high – suggesting that misfilings are part of a strategic effort to deflect investor attention.  Happily for corporate managers, the strategy is an effective one: misfiled 8-Ks not only receive less traffic, but they also have less stock price impact.

Roseanne would be so proud.

Last week, Chancellor Andre Bouchard dismissed the derivative complaint filed against Walmart concerning the WalMex bribery scandal, on the grounds of issue preclusion:  Earlier, a federal court in Arkansas had dismissed identical claims filed by a different set of plaintiffs. 

The reason that the Arkansas decision came so much earlier than the Delaware decision was, of course, that the Arkansas plaintiffs filed their complaint without first exercising their inspection rights under Section 220.  The Delaware plaintiffs did exercise their rights, as Delaware has repeatedly counseled plaintiffs should do, and fought Walmart for years over it – taking a trip to the Delaware Supreme Court as a result.

Standing alone, then, this case stands for the proposition that Delaware has no way of enforcing its own guidance to plaintiffs that they seek books and records before filing a derivative claim. 

But there’s hope – because this is exactly the kind of destructive competition among plaintiffs’ firms that forum selection bylaws were meant to address.  Had such a bylaw been in place, all of the plaintiffs could have been shunted into a Delaware forum.

Right?

Unfortunately, no.  Because defendants have the freedom to ignore a forum selection bylaw if their interests

Money Monster, directed by Jodie Foster, is the latest addition to the pop cultural anti-finance zeitgeist.  George Clooney plays – well, Jim Cramer, with Julia Roberts as his long-suffering director.  Their usual television buffoonery is interrupted by a disgruntled investor who lost his life savings by following Clooney’s advice to invest in – well, Knight Capital.  Now he insists on holding Clooney hostage at gunpoint until he can get an explanation for the trading “glitch” that caused his investment to go sour.

Warning:  Below be spoilers, though I’ll try to keep them to a minimum (roughly movie review standards).

The latest example of dramatic institutional failure – that somehow was entirely accidental – comes to us from MetLife.

The story begins with variable annuities, a product that might be suitable if you’re trying to shelter your assets from a lawsuit, but otherwise one whose chief virtue lies in its capacity to serve as a litmus test for the honesty of your broker. 

After the financial crisis, insurance companies decided that their outstanding variable annuities were too good for existing customers, and began offering very high commissions to any brokers who could persuade their clients to exchange an older one for a newer, less generous model.

Enter MetLife.  From 2009 to 2014, MetLife brokers churned $3 billion worth of variable annuities, resulting in $152 million in dealer commissions.  Customers were told that the newer annuity was less expensive or comparable, when in fact, 72% of the time, this was, shall we say, not so much true.   For example, 30% of the replacement applications falsely stated that the new contract was less expensive than the old one.  Applications also failed to disclose benefits and guarantees that the customer would forfeit in making the exchange, understated the value of existing

Securities regulations have increasingly required disclosure of, and shareholder input into, corporate executives’ pay.  For years, public corporations have been required to disclose the salaries of named executive officers, Dodd-Frank instituted (nonbinding) shareholder say-on-pay votes, and very soon, companies will be required to disclose the ratio of the CEO’s pay to median employee pay.

Many have argued that disclosure creates a Lake Wobegon effect:  No one wants to admit that their CEO gets below-average pay, and so disclosure ends up causing pay levels to rise across the board.

Now, a new study by Hongyan Li and Jin Xu looks at the effect in the context of CFO pay.  

Prior to 2006, the SEC required disclosure of the pay of five highest paid executive officers, including the CEO.  In 2006, however, the SEC changed its regulations to require disclosure of CFO pay, regardless of whether the CFO was one of the most highly paid.  The authors used the change as a natural experiment to discover the effect of disclosure on both CFO salary levels and CFO behavior.

Using a sample of S&P 1500 firms from 1999 through 2013, they find that at firms that had not previously disclosed CFO pay