protection after chaos

After writing and scheduling my original post, I couldn’t stop thinking about this. It feels like watching someone commit corporate harakiri—a bold, self-inflicted move that seems designed to publicly destroy themselves. But here’s the thing about harakiri: it’s rarely just about the person holding the blade. It’s about honor, protection, power, and shielding others.

So, who benefits when the CEO and their legal team make moves that look less like strategic maneuvers and more like amateur mistakes? Moves that validate fraudulent conveyance, violations of fiduciary duty, and even hand over proof of perjury on a silver platter? These aren’t accidents—they’re choices.
• Is it to protect investors? Blame the fallout on the “bad management” and hope no one digs deeper into those who truly benefited.
• Is it to distract regulators? A sleight of hand so the SEC and other federal agencies focus on what’s obvious while the real issues stay buried.
• Is it to shield assets? Do a controlled burn to the company while quietly moving what’s valuable out of reach.
• Is it about desperation? A last-ditch effort to stall for time, keep the lights on, and hope for a miracle.
• Or what if it’s about power? What if these moves are about showing that state regulators are so embedded in the fraud that they’ll look the other way no matter how blatant the misconduct? A bold reminder that they believe they can do whatever they want because they’ve bought the right protection.

The more I think about it, the more it feels like this isn’t just incompetence—it’s deliberate. Harakiri isn’t about failure; it’s about who survives the fallout and who holds the power when the dust settles.

Just some thoughts that wouldn’t leave my head after drafting that post. Something to keep in mind as this all plays out.

Sometimes, the loudest moves are designed to distract from the quiet truths beneath them. And sometimes, just showing up is enough to make people question their own strategy.

CannaConsigliere