stefan arrested
05-15-2006, 10:39 AM
#62
Banned
Life in Fast Lane Long Before Ferrari Crash
Before he shattered a red Ferrari in Malibu and became grist for Internet legend, Bo Stefan Eriksson ran a criminal gang in Sweden, raced cars in Europe, skippered a yacht called Snow White and helped run a video game company with dreams of taking on Sony and Nintendo, according to authorities.
By Jeffrey Fleishman and Richard Winton, Times Staff Writers
May 15, 2006
UPPSALA, Sweden — Before he shattered a red Ferrari in Malibu and became grist for Internet legend, Bo Stefan Eriksson ran a criminal gang in Sweden, raced cars in Europe, skippered a yacht called Snow White and helped run a video game company with dreams of taking on Sony and Nintendo, according to police and bankruptcy investigators.
Eriksson had a rap sheet and the fading charisma of an athlete past his prime, but one who was skilled at creating the aura of money and sinister chic. The arc of his triumphs and travails intersected with the ambitions of his partner, Carl Freer, a fellow Swede with a keen mind for technology and a confidence that captivated investors.
The two men were executives in Gizmondo Europe Ltd., a London-based company that developed a hand-held computer game that one industry writer described as having more gadgets than a Swiss Army knife. Gizmondo was abuzz with hype and promise. In March 2005, the launch party for the new game at the Park Lane Hotel was stocked with champagne, rhinestones, pearls, paparazzi and celebrities such as Busta Rhymes, Danni Minogue and Sting.
But beneath Gizmondo's flash ran the darker threads of corporate gambles, of technological innovation and ingenious ideas unhinged by mismanagement and greed, according to investigators and people affiliated with the company. Gizmondo went bankrupt in January, amassing more than $300 million in debt in its three years of existence, according to corporate records.
As the company spiraled and unpaid bills lined up, Freer and Eriksson headed from Britain to Los Angeles, leaving a trail of private detectives, bodyguards, $1,500-a-day lap dancers and millions of dollars worth of homes, cars, diamond watches and other accouterments of those who get rich quick. The tempest around Gizmondo's slide intensified in February with Eriksson's spectacular 162-mph crash of a rare Enzo Ferrari on Pacific Coast Highway.
Court-appointed liquidators are combing through thousands of pages of Gizmondo documents, but no one knows where all the money went, or how Eriksson and Freer transplanted their personal wealth and reinvented themselves in California. Financial investigators are also examining why investors and Gizmondo's parent company, the Florida-based Tiger Telematics Inc., were not aware that Eriksson was a felon, as were at least two other people connected with the company.
A Securities and Exchange Commission filing reveals that in 2004, Eriksson was paid a salary of $867,465 as a senior executive and $2.3 million in bonuses, stock awards and other compensation. Freer, Gizmondo's managing director, earned more than $1 million and received $2.4 million in stocks, bonuses and perks.
The company also took care of people close to its management: Freer's wife was a high-paid consultant for marketing and public relations. Another senior executive's girlfriend worked as a corporate secretary at Gizmondo and was paid more than $232,798 in salary and bonuses, given a luxury car and company stock then valued at $467,213, according to the SEC report.
"They've lost a hell of a lot of money, more money than most people see in a lifetime," said Paul Davis, a British liquidator investigating company records. He said between January and September 2005, Gizmondo took in about $2.6 million but lost more than $263 million. "They are staggering numbers by anybody's standards. It's clear the directors lived lavish lifestyles with fast cars, planes, boats and travel. But certainly that wouldn't account for all of it."
Charges Pile Up
The fates of Eriksson and Freer are also in question. Eriksson, 44, is in jail in Los Angeles awaiting trial on charges that include embezzlement, grand theft auto, illegally possessing a Smith & Wesson .357 magnum and driving while intoxicated. The counts arose from the Feb. 21 car accident and have become part a widening investigation into his activities after he entered the U.S. in August with two Ferrari Enzos and a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, valued at $3.8 million and owned by British financial institutions. He had a lease contract on the vehicles, authorities said, prohibiting him from taking them out of the country.
Eriksson has pleaded not guilty. His lawyer, David Elden, said that Eriksson put down about $1 million for the three cars and was in negotiations to sell his British mansion to pay off the balance on the vehicles before he was arrested. Elden described Eriksson's case as a "non-injury accident being blown out of proportion because it involved a Ferrari."
Real estate records show that Freer, 35, moved to the U.S. about the same time as Eriksson. He was arrested April 26 by Los Angeles County sheriff's detectives on charges of impersonating a police officer to buy at least one gun. Police said they confiscated 12 rifles and four handguns from Freer's Bel-Air home and his 100-foot yacht docked at Marina del Rey.
The incident was not Freer's first criminal case.
In October, a court in Stuttgart, Germany, sentenced Freer to 18 months probation and fined him 200,000 euros for buying four luxury cars with bad checks and having them delivered to a dealership in France. The cars were ordered between 1999 and early 2000, and German authorities issued an international warrant against him. Freer contended that he had canceled a check after believing he was being sold stolen cars.
Los Angeles County sheriff's detectives are also investigating Freer's and Eriksson's membership in an "anti-terrorism unit" of the San Gabriel Valley Transit Authority, a small private company that provides rides for the disabled and elderly in Monrovia and Sierra Madre. Sheriff's deputies on Tuesday arrested the transit agency's founder and seized guns, badges and police cars from offices and homes connected with the company.
Freer declined an interview request from The Times. Instead, his public relations firm, Sitrick & Co., responded to written questions. It said Freer was interested in the transit operation in order to test facial-recognition technology in the agency's vehicles. Elden said Eriksson also wanted to use the authority's buses to demonstrate a video system he had hoped to market as an anti-terrorism tool.
Eriksson's alleged affiliation with the transit authority is a contrast to the glamour, chauffeurs and musky woods of his old neighborhood in St. George's Hill, one of London's most exclusive suburbs. Along the community's winding roads, Eriksson was known for his sleek cars and long parties.
"A lot of very wealthy people lived up there," said Alan Koombs, a security guard for the gated community. "People like [pop singer] Cliff Richard and football stars and an influx of Russians with backgrounds you can't trace and very big minders [bodyguards]. Stefan lived at a house called the Washington. He projected himself as a Russian or Romanian, certainly not as a Swede. The residents association up there certainly didn't like" his lifestyle.
Building a Reputation
Peel back the years to the late 1970s, when Eriksson was a beefy kid moving through the streets of Uppsala, a college town northwest of Stockholm. They called him Fat Stefan. The nickname stuck, even though Eriksson later joined a gym, pumped weights and began moving more like a linebacker than a bullied boy on the playground. In a nation not accustomed to violence or interconnected networks of criminal gangs, Eriksson both fascinated and frustrated the local police.
"We first got our eyes on him in 1980," said Kjell Soderberg, chief detective inspector for the Uppsala Police Department. "He was suspected of some thefts. They weren't ordinary. They were special. He'd drill holes through store walls to steal car parts. He was more imaginative than other thieves."
Eriksson began constructing his own underworld. Police say he pulled in friends like Johan Enander, a muscular man trained in martial arts and known as the "torpedo," or debt collector, and Peter Uf, described by police as a shrewd operator. After serving prison terms for violent and financial crimes, both men would join Eriksson in Gizmondo-related business. But their attention was first focused on Sweden.
In 1988, Eriksson was convicted of possessing a shotgun and selling 10 small bags of cocaine. He spent about two years in prison.
Shortly after his release, authorities say, Eriksson orchestrated plots with more nuance and complexity. Local police joined federal detectives in investigating what became known as the Uppsala gang. Swedish police sketched a flow chart of Eriksson's network that included investigations into drugs, robbery, extortion, counterfeiting, bank fraud, arms trading and contacts in Eastern and Western European criminal syndicates.
In the early 1990s, Eriksson was a familiar face in cafes and bars from Uppsala to Stockholm. Police and those who would later know him at Gizmondo said he was a master of mystique, projecting himself as a wealthy, dangerous and clever playboy who was as comfortable dealing with financiers in Brooks Brothers suits as he was men with guns hidden in black leather coats. He attended, along with members of the Hells Angels, the wedding of Serb Milan Sevo, a leading figure in Swedish organized crime.
His love of fast cars was well known, but investigators were startled when in 1992 a tanned and confident Eriksson motored up the Fyrisan River here on a yacht named Snow White. "That was a very big boat in a little river," said Soderberg, the Uppsala chief detective inspector. "They were calling attention to themselves. How were they paying for cars and a boat like that? It wasn't really clever, when you think about it."
In 1993, Eriksson was convicted and imprisoned on charges of assault, making threats and attempting to inject as much as 20 million counterfeit Swedish kronor, about $2.6 million at the time, into the country's money supply. While in prison on those counts, he was convicted in a separate case for enlisting at least one bank employee to falsify deposit and checking slips to divert money to Eriksson's connections in Sweden and to secret accounts in Spain. Police estimate that more than $7 million was stolen.
The Freer Connection
Eriksson was released from prison in 2000, needed a job and got one through Carl Freer. Investigators believe the two first met years earlier. Freer's public relations firm described Eriksson as a "very old friend" who possessed "great talent" as a salesman. Eriksson went to work in Stockholm for a Freer venture known as Eagle Eye Scandinavian Ltd., which specialized in telecommunications and global positioning systems. Freer also had managed a media firm, a film production company based in Spain and an auto dealership in Cannes, France.
Swedish police say they suspected Freer of fraud several times over the last decade, but he was never charged. Through a spokesman, Freer said he was not made aware of such investigations. A Swedish newspaper reported last week that authorities first became aware of Freer when he was 18 and forged his parents' signature on a loan. A Swedish detective confirmed the incident. Freer contends that he had his parents' permission to sign on behalf of them for a student loan.
"He carefully plans," Soderberg said. "He has a tremendous verbal capacity. He could sell sand in the Sahara and refrigerators to Eskimos."
Freer moved to London around 2002 to head the European division of Tiger Telematics, a former flooring company with offices in Jacksonville, Fla. Freer and others moved the corporation into developing child-tracking computer devices and other wireless technology that could locate "people down to the street level in countries throughout the world."
The Gizmondo Venture
But Freer's attention shifted to video toys and an invention called Gizmondo. Several people who know Freer, whose father was a nuclear engineer and an IBM programmer, called him a technological visionary with extraordinary business and verbal gifts. A heavyset man with a boyish face who enjoyed being driven around in a Rolls-Royce, Freer had little inhibition and an infectious charm that impressed financial backers.
"I've heard Carl say the most unbelievable things and people listen," a former Gizmondo employee said.
Freer and Steve Carroll, an engineer credited with creating the game, were determined to shake up the industry with a console that would also play music, movies, contain a digital camera and send and receive e-mail messages. Gizmondo Europe moved into a store on stylish Regent Street in central London. And Eriksson, who drove a Ferrari plastered with Gizmondo signs at the race in Le Mans, France, was named company director.
"We spent three years of our lives totally dedicated to this from conception to launch," said Carroll, whose girlfriend, Tamela Sainsbury, was a company secretary with a salary and bonuses of more than $700,000. Carroll spoke briefly to a reporter over the phone recently. He asked the reporter to call back at a specific time, but he didn't answer after hours of repeated calls.
Freer believed the game would rival the hallmark names of Sony and Nintendo, said the former Gizmondo employee, who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation by Eriksson. "There was massive excitement in the house about this. Carl was passionate about it. He thought it would be triumphant. They believed it would make them terribly rich. But greed and egos led to the downfall … [and] Stefan's cocaine … problem was out of control" in 2005, the ex-employee said.
Eriksson twice faced cocaine-related charges in Sweden — in 1988 when he was convicted of selling the drug, and in 2002 when he was fined 4,000 kronor, or about $550, for using cocaine and amphetamines.
Noel Hogan, a private investigator tracking the luxury cars Gizmondo had leased from British banks, said personal enrichment drove company executives: "All of Gizmondo was to fund a lavish lifestyle. When you invest in a company, you don't want the directors having 12 cars and having their girlfriends on the payroll…. But then the water went out of the bath and the tap wasn't on anymore."
A financial consultant hired by Gizmondo said the company was poorly managed and had little understanding of marketing. "They grew at an astronomical rate. I call it over-trading," said the consultant, who like many affiliated with the company asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation. "I think the product itself was terrific, but it had some slight hitches that needed to be worked out. Maybe it was all too overly ambitious."
Road to Bankruptcy
The company's financial problems didn't stop its executives' buying sprees. A former employee said Freer bought three homes for a total of nearly $15 million and owned a yacht valued at more than $10 million. Eriksson bought cars, watches, cocaine and often hired lap dancers from the Spearmint Rhino club in London, the former employee said.
Michael Carrender, chief executive of Tiger Telematics, said the company and a board of independent directors grew agitated in 2004 and 2005 over Gizmondo Europe's financial practices, especially after millions of dollars were spent on advertising and the game failed to make it to market by the date promised. The games were eventually manufactured and sold, but the company continued to lose money.
"In hindsight, it looks as if there was clearly self-dealing and perhaps a violation of fiduciary duties," Carrender said of Freer's and Eriksson's management styles in telephone interview this month. "It wasn't attractive."
When asked why Eriksson, a felon with little experience in technology, was made a senior executive, Carrender said, "That's an interesting question." He added that background checks run on Eriksson detected no criminal charges.
"We literally could find nothing," Carrender said. "We couldn't find it. He didn't tell us." He added that Eriksson, who spoke poor English and was often not understood at board meetings, was brought to the company by Freer to offer "strategic introductions" to high-profile car racing personalities who might promote Gizmondo.
Freer's public relations firm, however, said, "The people at Tiger Telematics were well aware of Stefan Eriksson's background." The firm also said that Freer invested much of his own money in Gizmondo and that the company "came within a hairsbreadth" of success.
As Gizmondo tumbled further into debt in 2005, the former employee said, "Stefan was rarely there. He'd come to business meetings, put his feet on the table and read glossy car magazines…. They collected watches. Last September, Stefan had 685,000 British pounds sterling [$1.3 million] worth of watches. Rolex. Cartiers. Mostly diamond-encrusted."
Some who did business with Eriksson and Freer had a foreshadowing of Gizmondo's crash. "They'd come in on a regular basis," said a London jeweler who knew the men for two years.
"At the beginning, they were as good as gold. Carl was more of a businessman, Stefan more of the playboy…. But nine to 10 months ago, the payments to us were slower coming in." The jeweler said he complained. "If I hadn't put my foot down, I'd be holding the baby like everybody else. Two of my friends lost 2 million British pounds sterling [$3.78 million] each. One was in the car business, the other in the jewelry trade. They played the part of millionaires, and that's why everyone got dragged along."
At the end of the business day Jan. 20, 2006, Gizmondo Europe filed for bankruptcy. The stock of Tiger Telematics has plummeted to 7 cents from $32 a share in January 2005. Eriksson and Freer quit the company Oct. 18, 2005, after a story appeared in a Swedish newspaper about Eriksson's criminal past. Their resignations scared off investors.
"Our fundraising just dried up," Carrender said. "We simply ran out of cash."
But by then, Eriksson and Freer had already moved to the U.S. Freer docked his yacht in Marina del Rey and invested in a firm called Xero Mobile, a company planning to offer free phone service to college students if they viewed at least 20 minutes of advertisements scrolling on their cellphones each day. He has since severed his business relationship with Eriksson.
Eriksson, who authorities say misled U.S. immigration by not declaring that he was a felon, settled into a $3.6-million Bel-Air mansion.
About 6 a.m. on Feb. 21, according to police, he and another man, Trevor Karney, were speeding in a red Ferrari west of Decker Canyon Road when they hit a power pole, shearing the car in half. Both men walked away, Eriksson with only a bloody nose. After his arrest April 7, police raided Eriksson's home and found two expensive watches, brass knuckles and a poster of the movie "Scarface" above his bed.
Fleishman reported from Uppsala and London and Winton from Los Angeles.
Before he shattered a red Ferrari in Malibu and became grist for Internet legend, Bo Stefan Eriksson ran a criminal gang in Sweden, raced cars in Europe, skippered a yacht called Snow White and helped run a video game company with dreams of taking on Sony and Nintendo, according to authorities.
By Jeffrey Fleishman and Richard Winton, Times Staff Writers
May 15, 2006
UPPSALA, Sweden — Before he shattered a red Ferrari in Malibu and became grist for Internet legend, Bo Stefan Eriksson ran a criminal gang in Sweden, raced cars in Europe, skippered a yacht called Snow White and helped run a video game company with dreams of taking on Sony and Nintendo, according to police and bankruptcy investigators.
Eriksson had a rap sheet and the fading charisma of an athlete past his prime, but one who was skilled at creating the aura of money and sinister chic. The arc of his triumphs and travails intersected with the ambitions of his partner, Carl Freer, a fellow Swede with a keen mind for technology and a confidence that captivated investors.
The two men were executives in Gizmondo Europe Ltd., a London-based company that developed a hand-held computer game that one industry writer described as having more gadgets than a Swiss Army knife. Gizmondo was abuzz with hype and promise. In March 2005, the launch party for the new game at the Park Lane Hotel was stocked with champagne, rhinestones, pearls, paparazzi and celebrities such as Busta Rhymes, Danni Minogue and Sting.
But beneath Gizmondo's flash ran the darker threads of corporate gambles, of technological innovation and ingenious ideas unhinged by mismanagement and greed, according to investigators and people affiliated with the company. Gizmondo went bankrupt in January, amassing more than $300 million in debt in its three years of existence, according to corporate records.
As the company spiraled and unpaid bills lined up, Freer and Eriksson headed from Britain to Los Angeles, leaving a trail of private detectives, bodyguards, $1,500-a-day lap dancers and millions of dollars worth of homes, cars, diamond watches and other accouterments of those who get rich quick. The tempest around Gizmondo's slide intensified in February with Eriksson's spectacular 162-mph crash of a rare Enzo Ferrari on Pacific Coast Highway.
Court-appointed liquidators are combing through thousands of pages of Gizmondo documents, but no one knows where all the money went, or how Eriksson and Freer transplanted their personal wealth and reinvented themselves in California. Financial investigators are also examining why investors and Gizmondo's parent company, the Florida-based Tiger Telematics Inc., were not aware that Eriksson was a felon, as were at least two other people connected with the company.
A Securities and Exchange Commission filing reveals that in 2004, Eriksson was paid a salary of $867,465 as a senior executive and $2.3 million in bonuses, stock awards and other compensation. Freer, Gizmondo's managing director, earned more than $1 million and received $2.4 million in stocks, bonuses and perks.
The company also took care of people close to its management: Freer's wife was a high-paid consultant for marketing and public relations. Another senior executive's girlfriend worked as a corporate secretary at Gizmondo and was paid more than $232,798 in salary and bonuses, given a luxury car and company stock then valued at $467,213, according to the SEC report.
"They've lost a hell of a lot of money, more money than most people see in a lifetime," said Paul Davis, a British liquidator investigating company records. He said between January and September 2005, Gizmondo took in about $2.6 million but lost more than $263 million. "They are staggering numbers by anybody's standards. It's clear the directors lived lavish lifestyles with fast cars, planes, boats and travel. But certainly that wouldn't account for all of it."
Charges Pile Up
The fates of Eriksson and Freer are also in question. Eriksson, 44, is in jail in Los Angeles awaiting trial on charges that include embezzlement, grand theft auto, illegally possessing a Smith & Wesson .357 magnum and driving while intoxicated. The counts arose from the Feb. 21 car accident and have become part a widening investigation into his activities after he entered the U.S. in August with two Ferrari Enzos and a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, valued at $3.8 million and owned by British financial institutions. He had a lease contract on the vehicles, authorities said, prohibiting him from taking them out of the country.
Eriksson has pleaded not guilty. His lawyer, David Elden, said that Eriksson put down about $1 million for the three cars and was in negotiations to sell his British mansion to pay off the balance on the vehicles before he was arrested. Elden described Eriksson's case as a "non-injury accident being blown out of proportion because it involved a Ferrari."
Real estate records show that Freer, 35, moved to the U.S. about the same time as Eriksson. He was arrested April 26 by Los Angeles County sheriff's detectives on charges of impersonating a police officer to buy at least one gun. Police said they confiscated 12 rifles and four handguns from Freer's Bel-Air home and his 100-foot yacht docked at Marina del Rey.
The incident was not Freer's first criminal case.
In October, a court in Stuttgart, Germany, sentenced Freer to 18 months probation and fined him 200,000 euros for buying four luxury cars with bad checks and having them delivered to a dealership in France. The cars were ordered between 1999 and early 2000, and German authorities issued an international warrant against him. Freer contended that he had canceled a check after believing he was being sold stolen cars.
Los Angeles County sheriff's detectives are also investigating Freer's and Eriksson's membership in an "anti-terrorism unit" of the San Gabriel Valley Transit Authority, a small private company that provides rides for the disabled and elderly in Monrovia and Sierra Madre. Sheriff's deputies on Tuesday arrested the transit agency's founder and seized guns, badges and police cars from offices and homes connected with the company.
Freer declined an interview request from The Times. Instead, his public relations firm, Sitrick & Co., responded to written questions. It said Freer was interested in the transit operation in order to test facial-recognition technology in the agency's vehicles. Elden said Eriksson also wanted to use the authority's buses to demonstrate a video system he had hoped to market as an anti-terrorism tool.
Eriksson's alleged affiliation with the transit authority is a contrast to the glamour, chauffeurs and musky woods of his old neighborhood in St. George's Hill, one of London's most exclusive suburbs. Along the community's winding roads, Eriksson was known for his sleek cars and long parties.
"A lot of very wealthy people lived up there," said Alan Koombs, a security guard for the gated community. "People like [pop singer] Cliff Richard and football stars and an influx of Russians with backgrounds you can't trace and very big minders [bodyguards]. Stefan lived at a house called the Washington. He projected himself as a Russian or Romanian, certainly not as a Swede. The residents association up there certainly didn't like" his lifestyle.
Building a Reputation
Peel back the years to the late 1970s, when Eriksson was a beefy kid moving through the streets of Uppsala, a college town northwest of Stockholm. They called him Fat Stefan. The nickname stuck, even though Eriksson later joined a gym, pumped weights and began moving more like a linebacker than a bullied boy on the playground. In a nation not accustomed to violence or interconnected networks of criminal gangs, Eriksson both fascinated and frustrated the local police.
"We first got our eyes on him in 1980," said Kjell Soderberg, chief detective inspector for the Uppsala Police Department. "He was suspected of some thefts. They weren't ordinary. They were special. He'd drill holes through store walls to steal car parts. He was more imaginative than other thieves."
Eriksson began constructing his own underworld. Police say he pulled in friends like Johan Enander, a muscular man trained in martial arts and known as the "torpedo," or debt collector, and Peter Uf, described by police as a shrewd operator. After serving prison terms for violent and financial crimes, both men would join Eriksson in Gizmondo-related business. But their attention was first focused on Sweden.
In 1988, Eriksson was convicted of possessing a shotgun and selling 10 small bags of cocaine. He spent about two years in prison.
Shortly after his release, authorities say, Eriksson orchestrated plots with more nuance and complexity. Local police joined federal detectives in investigating what became known as the Uppsala gang. Swedish police sketched a flow chart of Eriksson's network that included investigations into drugs, robbery, extortion, counterfeiting, bank fraud, arms trading and contacts in Eastern and Western European criminal syndicates.
In the early 1990s, Eriksson was a familiar face in cafes and bars from Uppsala to Stockholm. Police and those who would later know him at Gizmondo said he was a master of mystique, projecting himself as a wealthy, dangerous and clever playboy who was as comfortable dealing with financiers in Brooks Brothers suits as he was men with guns hidden in black leather coats. He attended, along with members of the Hells Angels, the wedding of Serb Milan Sevo, a leading figure in Swedish organized crime.
His love of fast cars was well known, but investigators were startled when in 1992 a tanned and confident Eriksson motored up the Fyrisan River here on a yacht named Snow White. "That was a very big boat in a little river," said Soderberg, the Uppsala chief detective inspector. "They were calling attention to themselves. How were they paying for cars and a boat like that? It wasn't really clever, when you think about it."
In 1993, Eriksson was convicted and imprisoned on charges of assault, making threats and attempting to inject as much as 20 million counterfeit Swedish kronor, about $2.6 million at the time, into the country's money supply. While in prison on those counts, he was convicted in a separate case for enlisting at least one bank employee to falsify deposit and checking slips to divert money to Eriksson's connections in Sweden and to secret accounts in Spain. Police estimate that more than $7 million was stolen.
The Freer Connection
Eriksson was released from prison in 2000, needed a job and got one through Carl Freer. Investigators believe the two first met years earlier. Freer's public relations firm described Eriksson as a "very old friend" who possessed "great talent" as a salesman. Eriksson went to work in Stockholm for a Freer venture known as Eagle Eye Scandinavian Ltd., which specialized in telecommunications and global positioning systems. Freer also had managed a media firm, a film production company based in Spain and an auto dealership in Cannes, France.
Swedish police say they suspected Freer of fraud several times over the last decade, but he was never charged. Through a spokesman, Freer said he was not made aware of such investigations. A Swedish newspaper reported last week that authorities first became aware of Freer when he was 18 and forged his parents' signature on a loan. A Swedish detective confirmed the incident. Freer contends that he had his parents' permission to sign on behalf of them for a student loan.
"He carefully plans," Soderberg said. "He has a tremendous verbal capacity. He could sell sand in the Sahara and refrigerators to Eskimos."
Freer moved to London around 2002 to head the European division of Tiger Telematics, a former flooring company with offices in Jacksonville, Fla. Freer and others moved the corporation into developing child-tracking computer devices and other wireless technology that could locate "people down to the street level in countries throughout the world."
The Gizmondo Venture
But Freer's attention shifted to video toys and an invention called Gizmondo. Several people who know Freer, whose father was a nuclear engineer and an IBM programmer, called him a technological visionary with extraordinary business and verbal gifts. A heavyset man with a boyish face who enjoyed being driven around in a Rolls-Royce, Freer had little inhibition and an infectious charm that impressed financial backers.
"I've heard Carl say the most unbelievable things and people listen," a former Gizmondo employee said.
Freer and Steve Carroll, an engineer credited with creating the game, were determined to shake up the industry with a console that would also play music, movies, contain a digital camera and send and receive e-mail messages. Gizmondo Europe moved into a store on stylish Regent Street in central London. And Eriksson, who drove a Ferrari plastered with Gizmondo signs at the race in Le Mans, France, was named company director.
"We spent three years of our lives totally dedicated to this from conception to launch," said Carroll, whose girlfriend, Tamela Sainsbury, was a company secretary with a salary and bonuses of more than $700,000. Carroll spoke briefly to a reporter over the phone recently. He asked the reporter to call back at a specific time, but he didn't answer after hours of repeated calls.
Freer believed the game would rival the hallmark names of Sony and Nintendo, said the former Gizmondo employee, who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation by Eriksson. "There was massive excitement in the house about this. Carl was passionate about it. He thought it would be triumphant. They believed it would make them terribly rich. But greed and egos led to the downfall … [and] Stefan's cocaine … problem was out of control" in 2005, the ex-employee said.
Eriksson twice faced cocaine-related charges in Sweden — in 1988 when he was convicted of selling the drug, and in 2002 when he was fined 4,000 kronor, or about $550, for using cocaine and amphetamines.
Noel Hogan, a private investigator tracking the luxury cars Gizmondo had leased from British banks, said personal enrichment drove company executives: "All of Gizmondo was to fund a lavish lifestyle. When you invest in a company, you don't want the directors having 12 cars and having their girlfriends on the payroll…. But then the water went out of the bath and the tap wasn't on anymore."
A financial consultant hired by Gizmondo said the company was poorly managed and had little understanding of marketing. "They grew at an astronomical rate. I call it over-trading," said the consultant, who like many affiliated with the company asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation. "I think the product itself was terrific, but it had some slight hitches that needed to be worked out. Maybe it was all too overly ambitious."
Road to Bankruptcy
The company's financial problems didn't stop its executives' buying sprees. A former employee said Freer bought three homes for a total of nearly $15 million and owned a yacht valued at more than $10 million. Eriksson bought cars, watches, cocaine and often hired lap dancers from the Spearmint Rhino club in London, the former employee said.
Michael Carrender, chief executive of Tiger Telematics, said the company and a board of independent directors grew agitated in 2004 and 2005 over Gizmondo Europe's financial practices, especially after millions of dollars were spent on advertising and the game failed to make it to market by the date promised. The games were eventually manufactured and sold, but the company continued to lose money.
"In hindsight, it looks as if there was clearly self-dealing and perhaps a violation of fiduciary duties," Carrender said of Freer's and Eriksson's management styles in telephone interview this month. "It wasn't attractive."
When asked why Eriksson, a felon with little experience in technology, was made a senior executive, Carrender said, "That's an interesting question." He added that background checks run on Eriksson detected no criminal charges.
"We literally could find nothing," Carrender said. "We couldn't find it. He didn't tell us." He added that Eriksson, who spoke poor English and was often not understood at board meetings, was brought to the company by Freer to offer "strategic introductions" to high-profile car racing personalities who might promote Gizmondo.
Freer's public relations firm, however, said, "The people at Tiger Telematics were well aware of Stefan Eriksson's background." The firm also said that Freer invested much of his own money in Gizmondo and that the company "came within a hairsbreadth" of success.
As Gizmondo tumbled further into debt in 2005, the former employee said, "Stefan was rarely there. He'd come to business meetings, put his feet on the table and read glossy car magazines…. They collected watches. Last September, Stefan had 685,000 British pounds sterling [$1.3 million] worth of watches. Rolex. Cartiers. Mostly diamond-encrusted."
Some who did business with Eriksson and Freer had a foreshadowing of Gizmondo's crash. "They'd come in on a regular basis," said a London jeweler who knew the men for two years.
"At the beginning, they were as good as gold. Carl was more of a businessman, Stefan more of the playboy…. But nine to 10 months ago, the payments to us were slower coming in." The jeweler said he complained. "If I hadn't put my foot down, I'd be holding the baby like everybody else. Two of my friends lost 2 million British pounds sterling [$3.78 million] each. One was in the car business, the other in the jewelry trade. They played the part of millionaires, and that's why everyone got dragged along."
At the end of the business day Jan. 20, 2006, Gizmondo Europe filed for bankruptcy. The stock of Tiger Telematics has plummeted to 7 cents from $32 a share in January 2005. Eriksson and Freer quit the company Oct. 18, 2005, after a story appeared in a Swedish newspaper about Eriksson's criminal past. Their resignations scared off investors.
"Our fundraising just dried up," Carrender said. "We simply ran out of cash."
But by then, Eriksson and Freer had already moved to the U.S. Freer docked his yacht in Marina del Rey and invested in a firm called Xero Mobile, a company planning to offer free phone service to college students if they viewed at least 20 minutes of advertisements scrolling on their cellphones each day. He has since severed his business relationship with Eriksson.
Eriksson, who authorities say misled U.S. immigration by not declaring that he was a felon, settled into a $3.6-million Bel-Air mansion.
About 6 a.m. on Feb. 21, according to police, he and another man, Trevor Karney, were speeding in a red Ferrari west of Decker Canyon Road when they hit a power pole, shearing the car in half. Both men walked away, Eriksson with only a bloody nose. After his arrest April 7, police raided Eriksson's home and found two expensive watches, brass knuckles and a poster of the movie "Scarface" above his bed.
Fleishman reported from Uppsala and London and Winton from Los Angeles.
05-15-2006, 03:30 PM
#65
Banned
What a loser this guy Ericksson is. And no wonder this startup came crashing down, after reading these tidbits of information:
"We spent three years of our lives totally dedicated to this from conception to launch," said Carroll, whose girlfriend, Tamela Sainsbury, was a company secretary with a salary and bonuses of more than $700,000.
"When you invest in a company, you don't want the directors having 12 cars and having their girlfriends on the payroll."
Wow, why they hired Stefan in the first place is mind boggling:
When asked why Eriksson, a felon with little experience in technology, was made a senior executive, Carrender said, "That's an interesting question." He added that background checks run on Eriksson detected no criminal charges.
"We literally could find nothing," Carrender said. "We couldn't find it. He didn't tell us." He added that Eriksson, who spoke poor English and was often not understood at board meetings [maybe he was trying to tell them he was best suited for the henchman job!!], was brought to the company by Freer to offer "strategic introductions" to high-profile car racing personalities who might promote Gizmondo.
As Gizmondo tumbled further into debt in 2005, the former employee said, "Stefan was rarely there. He'd come to business meetings, put his feet on the table and read glossy car magazines.
Un-freakin-believable!
"We spent three years of our lives totally dedicated to this from conception to launch," said Carroll, whose girlfriend, Tamela Sainsbury, was a company secretary with a salary and bonuses of more than $700,000.
"When you invest in a company, you don't want the directors having 12 cars and having their girlfriends on the payroll."
Wow, why they hired Stefan in the first place is mind boggling:
When asked why Eriksson, a felon with little experience in technology, was made a senior executive, Carrender said, "That's an interesting question." He added that background checks run on Eriksson detected no criminal charges.
"We literally could find nothing," Carrender said. "We couldn't find it. He didn't tell us." He added that Eriksson, who spoke poor English and was often not understood at board meetings [maybe he was trying to tell them he was best suited for the henchman job!!], was brought to the company by Freer to offer "strategic introductions" to high-profile car racing personalities who might promote Gizmondo.
As Gizmondo tumbled further into debt in 2005, the former employee said, "Stefan was rarely there. He'd come to business meetings, put his feet on the table and read glossy car magazines.
Un-freakin-believable!
10-17-2006, 05:30 PM
#66
Banned
The Winding Road Continues...
Businessman Rejects Plea Bargain in Ferrari Case
By Peter Y. Hong, Times Staff Writer
October 17, 2006
A Swedish businessman who became notorious after he allegedly crashed an exotic Ferrari sports car in Malibu in April rejected a plea deal Monday that would have had him spend two years and four months in prison.
Instead, Bo Stefan M. Eriksson, 44, will stand trial on seven charges of embezzlement, grand theft auto, firearms possession and drunk driving. He faces a maximum sentence of 11 years and two months if convicted of all counts.
The embezzlement and auto theft charges stem from Eriksson's allegedly bringing a Ferrari and Mercedes to the U.S. without the knowledge of the British banks that held the cars' titles.
Eriksson said through a Swedish interpreter he would not accept a plea bargain because "I cannot agree to that I stole the cars." Eriksson appeared in court in a dark business suit and occasionally smiled as he spoke with his lawyers.
Eriksson allegedly crashed a red 2003 Ferrari Enzo into a utility pole on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21. Authorities said he was driving 162 mph when he crashed the car, reportedly worth $1 million.
The video-game executive told police at the scene that he was not the driver and that a man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel. Eriksson said Dietrich ran away before authorities arrived.
Eriksson also said he was deputy commissioner of the police department of the San Gabriel Valley Transit Authority, a tiny private agency that provides rides to the disabled and elderly.
A few minutes after the crash, two men arrived at the site, identified themselves as Homeland Security officials and spoke to Eriksson at length before leaving.
With its flashy circumstances and bizarre twists, the incident drew heavy interest in Europe as well as the United States. Eriksson has nine criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, counterfeiting, narcotics and firearms offenses.
On Monday, prosecutors dropped two charges against Eriksson: embezzlement and grand theft related to his possession of the Ferrari involved in the accident.
James Parkman, Eriksson's attorney, said the charges were dropped because officials of the London bank holding the title to the car declined to meet with prosecutors in Los Angeles.
Eriksson faces theft charges for two other vehicles, a black 2003 Ferrari Enzo and a 2005 Mercedes McLaren SLR.
By Peter Y. Hong, Times Staff Writer
October 17, 2006
A Swedish businessman who became notorious after he allegedly crashed an exotic Ferrari sports car in Malibu in April rejected a plea deal Monday that would have had him spend two years and four months in prison.
Instead, Bo Stefan M. Eriksson, 44, will stand trial on seven charges of embezzlement, grand theft auto, firearms possession and drunk driving. He faces a maximum sentence of 11 years and two months if convicted of all counts.
The embezzlement and auto theft charges stem from Eriksson's allegedly bringing a Ferrari and Mercedes to the U.S. without the knowledge of the British banks that held the cars' titles.
Eriksson said through a Swedish interpreter he would not accept a plea bargain because "I cannot agree to that I stole the cars." Eriksson appeared in court in a dark business suit and occasionally smiled as he spoke with his lawyers.
Eriksson allegedly crashed a red 2003 Ferrari Enzo into a utility pole on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21. Authorities said he was driving 162 mph when he crashed the car, reportedly worth $1 million.
The video-game executive told police at the scene that he was not the driver and that a man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel. Eriksson said Dietrich ran away before authorities arrived.
Eriksson also said he was deputy commissioner of the police department of the San Gabriel Valley Transit Authority, a tiny private agency that provides rides to the disabled and elderly.
A few minutes after the crash, two men arrived at the site, identified themselves as Homeland Security officials and spoke to Eriksson at length before leaving.
With its flashy circumstances and bizarre twists, the incident drew heavy interest in Europe as well as the United States. Eriksson has nine criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, counterfeiting, narcotics and firearms offenses.
On Monday, prosecutors dropped two charges against Eriksson: embezzlement and grand theft related to his possession of the Ferrari involved in the accident.
James Parkman, Eriksson's attorney, said the charges were dropped because officials of the London bank holding the title to the car declined to meet with prosecutors in Los Angeles.
Eriksson faces theft charges for two other vehicles, a black 2003 Ferrari Enzo and a 2005 Mercedes McLaren SLR.
11-04-2006, 01:15 PM
#67
Banned
Ferrari Enzo trial isn't as flashy as the car
The cast of characters may be colorful, but the Bo Stefan Eriksson case focuses mainly on paperwork details.
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
October 24, 2006
Eight months later, the cars still have their mystique. A black Ferrari Enzo. A McLaren Mercedes-Benz. And of course the by-now iconic red Ferrari Enzo, the more alluring for having been smashed.
The names of all three cars flew around the courtroom like sparks Monday morning, enlivening an otherwise lusterless discussion of lease terms and payment plans as the trial of Swedish businessman and ex-convict Bo Stefan Eriksson got underway. Jurors heard repeatedly about how rare are the cars, how expensive, how celebrated.
The burly Swede, who has already pleaded no contest to drunk driving charges stemming from the crash of the red Ferrari in February, is fighting embezzlement and auto theft charges stemming from allegations that he fraudulently spirited away the black Ferrari and the Mercedes, bringing them into the United States without the authorization of the British banks that held title to them.
In opening arguments Monday, attorneys offered opposing views on the central issue of just who was bamboozling whom. Prosecutors argued that Eriksson was executing a sophisticated scheme to get the cars away from the unsuspecting banks. Defense attorney Jim Parkman argued that it was some fast thinking by British bankers that finessed what is essentially a civil disagreement into the domain of the Los Angeles County criminal courts.
The allegations are related to a long-running story involving Eriksson, the former executive of a now-bankrupt company who has spent time in prison and who allegedly crashed the million-dollar red Ferrari into a utility pole on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
But the substance of the case has long seemed an aside to its exotic flourishes — not just cool cars and rich people, but actual European rich people, and ones with shady pasts to boot.
Jurors were told they had the dubious privilege of reviewing a case that consists largely of paperwork details. But at least the courtroom scene did not disappoint: Featuring blond Swedish interpreters with elegant red nails, a folksy Southern defense attorney who referred to his "grand-mammy" in opening arguments and a British banker whose glasses kept slipping down his nose, the case offered trappings seldom seen in the workaday courts of Los Angeles.
The trial before Superior Court Judge Patricia Schnegg got underway late after one of the jurors was caught in traffic. Eriksson, 44, sat to one side of his attorneys. He wore a blue suit, a buzz cut and a little frown.
He mostly looked straight ahead during the proceedings, slightly hunched, his jacket binding across his large shoulders. One or twice, he swiveled in his chair to wink at his wife, a dark-haired woman in a close-fitting, flowing black dress sitting in the spectator benches.
Prosecutor Tamara Hall gave jurors a spare description of the case, beginning with the "crash that resulted in worldwide media exposure and also exposed the whereabouts of the cars arrogantly concealed by Mr. Eriksson."
She said Eriksson had transferred ownership of the cars to employees, then shipped them abroad in violation of lending contracts. Loans on the cars went into default and the banks were trying to repossess them, but "unbeknownst to the banks, Mr. Eriksson was living it up and sporting their vehicles right here in the United States."
Parkman, the defense attorney from Alabama, strolled over to the jury when Hall was done and uttered a long, theatrical sigh. "Boy!" he began, with a twang seldom heard in Los Angeles outside country music stations. "After hearing all that, doesn't seem like we have a chance."
He then quoted his "grand-mammy," saying, "No matter how thin you make a pancake, it still has two sides."
Parkman proceeded to argue that Eriksson had considerable equity in both cars, that the lease contracts were like purchase agreements and that the banks had tried to pursue the problem in civil court but had balked at posting a bond to repossess the cars.
The prosecution then called its first witness, Ian Hyett, manager of a banking subsidiary in the United Kingdom.
In an accent out of "Masterpiece Theatre," Hyett spent much of his time on the stand calculating the conversions between hundreds of thousands in British pounds sterling and dollars.
As his testimony drilled deep into the details of lease purchase agreements, licensing authorities and registered introducers (brokers), jurors settled back in their seats and most of the reporters trickled out.
Near the back of the courtroom, members of a Spanish-speaking family waiting for a lawyer in a low-profile criminal case closed their eyes and appeared to sleep.
They did not stir until the prosecutor placed an enlarged copy of a Ferrari sales invoice on an exhibit stand.
It contained a dealership's logo, complete with a picture of a sleek, exotic black sports car. The family members sat up and murmured, staring at the car.
The cast of characters may be colorful, but the Bo Stefan Eriksson case focuses mainly on paperwork details.
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
October 24, 2006
Eight months later, the cars still have their mystique. A black Ferrari Enzo. A McLaren Mercedes-Benz. And of course the by-now iconic red Ferrari Enzo, the more alluring for having been smashed.
The names of all three cars flew around the courtroom like sparks Monday morning, enlivening an otherwise lusterless discussion of lease terms and payment plans as the trial of Swedish businessman and ex-convict Bo Stefan Eriksson got underway. Jurors heard repeatedly about how rare are the cars, how expensive, how celebrated.
The burly Swede, who has already pleaded no contest to drunk driving charges stemming from the crash of the red Ferrari in February, is fighting embezzlement and auto theft charges stemming from allegations that he fraudulently spirited away the black Ferrari and the Mercedes, bringing them into the United States without the authorization of the British banks that held title to them.
In opening arguments Monday, attorneys offered opposing views on the central issue of just who was bamboozling whom. Prosecutors argued that Eriksson was executing a sophisticated scheme to get the cars away from the unsuspecting banks. Defense attorney Jim Parkman argued that it was some fast thinking by British bankers that finessed what is essentially a civil disagreement into the domain of the Los Angeles County criminal courts.
The allegations are related to a long-running story involving Eriksson, the former executive of a now-bankrupt company who has spent time in prison and who allegedly crashed the million-dollar red Ferrari into a utility pole on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
But the substance of the case has long seemed an aside to its exotic flourishes — not just cool cars and rich people, but actual European rich people, and ones with shady pasts to boot.
Jurors were told they had the dubious privilege of reviewing a case that consists largely of paperwork details. But at least the courtroom scene did not disappoint: Featuring blond Swedish interpreters with elegant red nails, a folksy Southern defense attorney who referred to his "grand-mammy" in opening arguments and a British banker whose glasses kept slipping down his nose, the case offered trappings seldom seen in the workaday courts of Los Angeles.
The trial before Superior Court Judge Patricia Schnegg got underway late after one of the jurors was caught in traffic. Eriksson, 44, sat to one side of his attorneys. He wore a blue suit, a buzz cut and a little frown.
He mostly looked straight ahead during the proceedings, slightly hunched, his jacket binding across his large shoulders. One or twice, he swiveled in his chair to wink at his wife, a dark-haired woman in a close-fitting, flowing black dress sitting in the spectator benches.
Prosecutor Tamara Hall gave jurors a spare description of the case, beginning with the "crash that resulted in worldwide media exposure and also exposed the whereabouts of the cars arrogantly concealed by Mr. Eriksson."
She said Eriksson had transferred ownership of the cars to employees, then shipped them abroad in violation of lending contracts. Loans on the cars went into default and the banks were trying to repossess them, but "unbeknownst to the banks, Mr. Eriksson was living it up and sporting their vehicles right here in the United States."
Parkman, the defense attorney from Alabama, strolled over to the jury when Hall was done and uttered a long, theatrical sigh. "Boy!" he began, with a twang seldom heard in Los Angeles outside country music stations. "After hearing all that, doesn't seem like we have a chance."
He then quoted his "grand-mammy," saying, "No matter how thin you make a pancake, it still has two sides."
Parkman proceeded to argue that Eriksson had considerable equity in both cars, that the lease contracts were like purchase agreements and that the banks had tried to pursue the problem in civil court but had balked at posting a bond to repossess the cars.
The prosecution then called its first witness, Ian Hyett, manager of a banking subsidiary in the United Kingdom.
In an accent out of "Masterpiece Theatre," Hyett spent much of his time on the stand calculating the conversions between hundreds of thousands in British pounds sterling and dollars.
As his testimony drilled deep into the details of lease purchase agreements, licensing authorities and registered introducers (brokers), jurors settled back in their seats and most of the reporters trickled out.
Near the back of the courtroom, members of a Spanish-speaking family waiting for a lawyer in a low-profile criminal case closed their eyes and appeared to sleep.
They did not stir until the prosecutor placed an enlarged copy of a Ferrari sales invoice on an exhibit stand.
It contained a dealership's logo, complete with a picture of a sleek, exotic black sports car. The family members sat up and murmured, staring at the car.
11-04-2006, 01:16 PM
#68
Banned
Eriksson Ferrari crash case slams into mistrial
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
11:55 AM PST, November 3, 2006
A mistrial was declared today in the theft and embezzlement trial of Bo Stefan Eriksson, who was involved in the crash of a rare Enzo Ferrari.
Jurors began deliberations Thursday and told the judge today they were deadlocked. They had voted 10 to 2 for conviction, according to a spokesperson for the Los Angeles County district attorney's office.
Eriksson faced two counts of grand theft and fraudulent concealment with intent to defraud. Prosecutors said he stopped making payments on and tried to hide two luxury sports cars from the lenders.
Prosecutors are still considering whether to retry the case, said Sandi Gibbons, spokeswoman for the Los Angeles County district attorney.
Eriksson, 44, had already agreed to a plea deal on drunk-driving charges related to the spectacular crash of his 2003 red Enzo Ferrari, reported to be worth a million dollars. Police believe he was going 162 mph when it crashed on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
The images of the severed and mangled car on the dusty Malibu roadside seemed to capture some spirit of debauched wealth and excess in Los Angeles, as if a Stradivarius violin had been smashed at some drunken beach party.
Afterward, the protagonist's dark past came to light. These factors helped fan public interest in the case, along with the murky happenings surrounding the crash, such as the inexplicable appearance of men identifying themselves as Homeland Security officials and Eriksson's insistence that a mystery man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel.
After the crash, Eriksson's possession of two other cars came under scrutiny and deputies searching his Bel-Air house turned up a gun. Eriksson, who has nine criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, narcotics and firearms offenses, cannot legally possess a gun. His trial on the gun offense is pending.
This case dealt with auto theft and embezzlement charges.
Eriksson, former executive of a now bankrupt company, had been accused of transferring ownership of two cars, a black Enzo and a McLaren Mercedes-Benz, to employees, then shipping them abroad in violation of lending contracts.
Prosecutors called it a sophisticated scheme to spirit away the two valuable cars.
Eriksson's defense attorney, Jim Parkman, said the banks had finessed a civil disagreement into criminal courts out of self-interest. He added that Eriksson's contracts with them were more like a purchase than lease agreements.
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
11:55 AM PST, November 3, 2006
A mistrial was declared today in the theft and embezzlement trial of Bo Stefan Eriksson, who was involved in the crash of a rare Enzo Ferrari.
Jurors began deliberations Thursday and told the judge today they were deadlocked. They had voted 10 to 2 for conviction, according to a spokesperson for the Los Angeles County district attorney's office.
Eriksson faced two counts of grand theft and fraudulent concealment with intent to defraud. Prosecutors said he stopped making payments on and tried to hide two luxury sports cars from the lenders.
Prosecutors are still considering whether to retry the case, said Sandi Gibbons, spokeswoman for the Los Angeles County district attorney.
Eriksson, 44, had already agreed to a plea deal on drunk-driving charges related to the spectacular crash of his 2003 red Enzo Ferrari, reported to be worth a million dollars. Police believe he was going 162 mph when it crashed on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
The images of the severed and mangled car on the dusty Malibu roadside seemed to capture some spirit of debauched wealth and excess in Los Angeles, as if a Stradivarius violin had been smashed at some drunken beach party.
Afterward, the protagonist's dark past came to light. These factors helped fan public interest in the case, along with the murky happenings surrounding the crash, such as the inexplicable appearance of men identifying themselves as Homeland Security officials and Eriksson's insistence that a mystery man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel.
After the crash, Eriksson's possession of two other cars came under scrutiny and deputies searching his Bel-Air house turned up a gun. Eriksson, who has nine criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, narcotics and firearms offenses, cannot legally possess a gun. His trial on the gun offense is pending.
This case dealt with auto theft and embezzlement charges.
Eriksson, former executive of a now bankrupt company, had been accused of transferring ownership of two cars, a black Enzo and a McLaren Mercedes-Benz, to employees, then shipping them abroad in violation of lending contracts.
Prosecutors called it a sophisticated scheme to spirit away the two valuable cars.
Eriksson's defense attorney, Jim Parkman, said the banks had finessed a civil disagreement into criminal courts out of self-interest. He added that Eriksson's contracts with them were more like a purchase than lease agreements.
11-04-2006, 01:16 PM
#69
Banned
Stefan Walks....Away from Crash -- For The Second Time. :)
Jury deadlocks in Ferrari crash case
Driver who crashed rare auto in Malibu was accused of stealing expensive cars.
By Jill Leovy and Richard Winton, Times Staff Writers
November 4, 2006
Bo Stefan Eriksson, 44, driver of the red Ferrari that crashed in Malibu earlier this year, got a respite from the law Friday when a jury deadlocked on auto theft and other charges.
The Swedish ex-felon was in orange jail fatigues, with his wife watching, when Judge Patricia Schnegg declared a mistrial in the case after jurors voted 10 to 2 for a guilty verdict. Eriksson grinned toward onlookers as he was escorted away to meet with his lawyers.
Prosecutors almost immediately said they will retry Eriksson on the theft and related charges. He faces a separate trial, which could begin as early as next week, on a gun charge.
Eriksson had already agreed to a plea agreement on drunk driving charges related to the spectacular crash of his 2003 red Ferrari Enzo, reportedly worth $1 million. Police believe he was going 162 mph when he crashed on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
The images of the mangled Ferrari on the dusty Malibu roadside seemed to capture a spirit of debauched wealth and excess in Los Angeles, as if a Stradivarius violin had been smashed at a drunken beach party.
The contrast between the protagonist's dark past and his nationality gave the event an added touch of absurdity. Also fanning public interest in the case were the murky events surrounding the crash, such as the inexplicable appearance of men identifying themselves as Homeland Security officials, and Eriksson's insistence that a mysterious man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel.
After the crash, Eriksson's possession of two other cars came under scrutiny. Deputies searching his Bel-Air house turned up a gun, which the nine-time felon, who has criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, narcotics and firearms offenses, allegedly cannot possess legally.
The case in which the jury deadlocked Friday dealt with auto theft and embezzlement charges. Eriksson, former executive of a bankrupt company, had been accused of transferring ownership of two cars, a black Enzo and a McLaren Mercedes-Benz, to employees, then shipping them abroad in violation of lending contracts.
Prosecutors called it a sophisticated scheme to spirit away the two valuable cars. But Eriksson's defense attorney, Jim Parkman, said the banks had finessed a civil disagreement into criminal courts out of self-interest, and that their contracts with Eriksson were more like purchase agreements than leases.
"I thought the jury did a great job trying to figure out this case, Parkman said after the jury deadlocked. "I was very pleased with the nature of the outcome."
Driver who crashed rare auto in Malibu was accused of stealing expensive cars.
By Jill Leovy and Richard Winton, Times Staff Writers
November 4, 2006
Bo Stefan Eriksson, 44, driver of the red Ferrari that crashed in Malibu earlier this year, got a respite from the law Friday when a jury deadlocked on auto theft and other charges.
The Swedish ex-felon was in orange jail fatigues, with his wife watching, when Judge Patricia Schnegg declared a mistrial in the case after jurors voted 10 to 2 for a guilty verdict. Eriksson grinned toward onlookers as he was escorted away to meet with his lawyers.
Prosecutors almost immediately said they will retry Eriksson on the theft and related charges. He faces a separate trial, which could begin as early as next week, on a gun charge.
Eriksson had already agreed to a plea agreement on drunk driving charges related to the spectacular crash of his 2003 red Ferrari Enzo, reportedly worth $1 million. Police believe he was going 162 mph when he crashed on Pacific Coast Highway on Feb. 21.
The images of the mangled Ferrari on the dusty Malibu roadside seemed to capture a spirit of debauched wealth and excess in Los Angeles, as if a Stradivarius violin had been smashed at a drunken beach party.
The contrast between the protagonist's dark past and his nationality gave the event an added touch of absurdity. Also fanning public interest in the case were the murky events surrounding the crash, such as the inexplicable appearance of men identifying themselves as Homeland Security officials, and Eriksson's insistence that a mysterious man named Dietrich had been behind the wheel.
After the crash, Eriksson's possession of two other cars came under scrutiny. Deputies searching his Bel-Air house turned up a gun, which the nine-time felon, who has criminal convictions in Sweden for forgery, narcotics and firearms offenses, allegedly cannot possess legally.
The case in which the jury deadlocked Friday dealt with auto theft and embezzlement charges. Eriksson, former executive of a bankrupt company, had been accused of transferring ownership of two cars, a black Enzo and a McLaren Mercedes-Benz, to employees, then shipping them abroad in violation of lending contracts.
Prosecutors called it a sophisticated scheme to spirit away the two valuable cars. But Eriksson's defense attorney, Jim Parkman, said the banks had finessed a civil disagreement into criminal courts out of self-interest, and that their contracts with Eriksson were more like purchase agreements than leases.
"I thought the jury did a great job trying to figure out this case, Parkman said after the jury deadlocked. "I was very pleased with the nature of the outcome."
11-05-2006, 03:02 AM
#70
Banned
Makes you wonder how lucky this SOB is, doesn't it?
Walks away unscathed from a 162 mph crash. And when it looked like karma finally caught up with him and his personal life started to unravel and that he'd be spending a long, long time at the Grey Bar Hotel, he's a free man once again! ... Simply amazing.
Walks away unscathed from a 162 mph crash. And when it looked like karma finally caught up with him and his personal life started to unravel and that he'd be spending a long, long time at the Grey Bar Hotel, he's a free man once again! ... Simply amazing.
11-08-2006, 10:36 AM
#72
Banned
The Curtain Falls...
Ferrari driver accepts a plea bargain
After he serves about a year in prison, Bo Stefan Eriksson, who crashed in Malibu at 162 mph, may be deported. He loses two other exotic cars and his house.
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
November 8, 2006
It started with a crash and ended with a fizzle as Bo Stefan Eriksson, identified as the driver of the infamous smashed red Ferrari Enzo, accepted a plea deal Tuesday in a Los Angeles courtroom.
Eriksson, 44, is expected to spend about a year in prison after pleading no contest to two counts of embezzlement related to his dealings with two exotic cars and one count of possessing a gun illegally. An auto theft charge was dismissed.
The court proceeding Tuesday signaled a curtain falling on the colorful Eriksson drama, which captivated public attention after images of the red Ferrari reduced to a severed wreck on Pacific Coast Highway showed up on newscasts last February.
Not only have Eriksson's remaining two fantastically expensive exotic cars — a black Ferrari Enzo and a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren — been shipped back to European banks, but prosecutors said Tuesday that Eriksson's Bel-Air house will go into receivership. Eriksson stands to be deported after he gets out of prison, though his lawyer Alec Rose said he had planned to leave voluntarily anyway.
Even the Smith & Wesson gun found at his house will be gone: It was confiscated by police and will be destroyed.
"Mr. Eriksson looked over the situation, and there was a meeting of the minds and that's why he settled," Rose said. The settlement was possible once "emotions were out of the way," he added.
"Justice has prevailed," said prosecutor Tamara Hall.
A jury deadlocked last week on charges that Eriksson, a former executive of a bankrupt company, had been involved in a scheme to bring the black Enzo and the Mercedes SLR McLaren to the U.S. illegally. The vote was 10 to 2 in favor of guilt.
Eriksson faced a retrial in that case and a separate trial on the weapons possession charge. Eriksson had already agreed to a plea deal resolving a drunk-driving charge.
Technically, Eriksson's sentence is three years in state prison followed by up to three years' parole, a $5,000 fine and restitution in an amount to be determined in a hearing Dec. 7. But because of the time he has already spent in jail as well as other allowances, he is expected to be freed in a year or so, his attorney said.
Eriksson appeared in court to enter his plea just before noon Tuesday. The big Swede seemed tense in his bright orange jail smock — his face taut, his smile pained and his forehead deeply furrowed. He glanced frequently back at his wife as the hearing got underway and looked wan as he relinquished his rights one by one. His replies, in Swedish, were then rendered as "yes" by his translator.
He interrupted the proceedings twice to ask his lawyer questions. Once, Rose approached the bench to clarify a point, but otherwise the hearing went smoothly. When it ended, Eriksson rose immediately and retreated with deputies and his lawyers through a side door.
At the Dec. 7 hearing, attorneys are expected to wrangle over how much Eriksson will have to pay to the two British banks that had sought to repossess the black Enzo and the Mercedes. The cars are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but Eriksson's attorneys argued that he had considerable equity in both vehicles.
Eriksson survived the crash of the red Ferrari on Feb. 21 in Malibu, although the car, believed to have been traveling at about 162 mph, was destroyed. The car's estimated worth was about $1 million.
After he serves about a year in prison, Bo Stefan Eriksson, who crashed in Malibu at 162 mph, may be deported. He loses two other exotic cars and his house.
By Jill Leovy, Times Staff Writer
November 8, 2006
It started with a crash and ended with a fizzle as Bo Stefan Eriksson, identified as the driver of the infamous smashed red Ferrari Enzo, accepted a plea deal Tuesday in a Los Angeles courtroom.
Eriksson, 44, is expected to spend about a year in prison after pleading no contest to two counts of embezzlement related to his dealings with two exotic cars and one count of possessing a gun illegally. An auto theft charge was dismissed.
The court proceeding Tuesday signaled a curtain falling on the colorful Eriksson drama, which captivated public attention after images of the red Ferrari reduced to a severed wreck on Pacific Coast Highway showed up on newscasts last February.
Not only have Eriksson's remaining two fantastically expensive exotic cars — a black Ferrari Enzo and a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren — been shipped back to European banks, but prosecutors said Tuesday that Eriksson's Bel-Air house will go into receivership. Eriksson stands to be deported after he gets out of prison, though his lawyer Alec Rose said he had planned to leave voluntarily anyway.
Even the Smith & Wesson gun found at his house will be gone: It was confiscated by police and will be destroyed.
"Mr. Eriksson looked over the situation, and there was a meeting of the minds and that's why he settled," Rose said. The settlement was possible once "emotions were out of the way," he added.
"Justice has prevailed," said prosecutor Tamara Hall.
A jury deadlocked last week on charges that Eriksson, a former executive of a bankrupt company, had been involved in a scheme to bring the black Enzo and the Mercedes SLR McLaren to the U.S. illegally. The vote was 10 to 2 in favor of guilt.
Eriksson faced a retrial in that case and a separate trial on the weapons possession charge. Eriksson had already agreed to a plea deal resolving a drunk-driving charge.
Technically, Eriksson's sentence is three years in state prison followed by up to three years' parole, a $5,000 fine and restitution in an amount to be determined in a hearing Dec. 7. But because of the time he has already spent in jail as well as other allowances, he is expected to be freed in a year or so, his attorney said.
Eriksson appeared in court to enter his plea just before noon Tuesday. The big Swede seemed tense in his bright orange jail smock — his face taut, his smile pained and his forehead deeply furrowed. He glanced frequently back at his wife as the hearing got underway and looked wan as he relinquished his rights one by one. His replies, in Swedish, were then rendered as "yes" by his translator.
He interrupted the proceedings twice to ask his lawyer questions. Once, Rose approached the bench to clarify a point, but otherwise the hearing went smoothly. When it ended, Eriksson rose immediately and retreated with deputies and his lawyers through a side door.
At the Dec. 7 hearing, attorneys are expected to wrangle over how much Eriksson will have to pay to the two British banks that had sought to repossess the black Enzo and the Mercedes. The cars are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but Eriksson's attorneys argued that he had considerable equity in both vehicles.
Eriksson survived the crash of the red Ferrari on Feb. 21 in Malibu, although the car, believed to have been traveling at about 162 mph, was destroyed. The car's estimated worth was about $1 million.
