Hernandez’s Self-Defense Is Legendary Self-Deception

Charles Keating considers himself a defender of moral values for his anti-pornography crusades.

Michael Milken considers himself a fountain of opportunity because of his junk-bond career.

Daniel Hernandez considers himself a modern-day Robin Hood for all the money he’s given to friends and charity.

Yeah, and there’s a guy on a street corner who considers himself the rightful heir to the throne of Sweden.

What do all four have in common? They’ve turned self-deception into an art form.

Every society has had muggers and thieves. They just dress better these days.

Hernandez is Orange County’s latest practitioner of the theology that preaches that money changes everything. It distorts reality; it turns wrong into right, villains into heroes and cellmates into role models.

Elsewhere in the paper today, Hernandez gives a fascinating interview about his role with PGP Industries in Santa Fe Springs. If I read it right, he says in one breath that he skimmed money from the company and says in the next that he’s not ashamed of it.

Hernandez, who lives in Mission Viejo, says he’s negotiating with the federal government and will testify against company officials in exchange for a lenient sentence.

Company officials have vehemently denied Hernandez’s contention that the company knew about the skimming and condoned it.

Hernandez and his wife, Susie, both well known in Orange County society circles, have been charged with stealing nearly $8 million from the company, a precious metals firm. The funds were transferred into dummy accounts and apparently used to pay for both the Hernandezes’ lifestyle and their various charitable deeds.

Hernandez’s depiction of his actions brings to mind the old line about the defendant who, when asked by the judge how he pleads to the charges, replies: “Guilty, with an explanation!”

“What I did was not wrong,” he told Times reporter Mark Platte, over a nice dinner in Beverly Hills. “That was my percentage that I stole for them. . . . Do I feel guilty? Maybe in retrospect I do, but if they hadn’t given me a piece of the money for myself, it would have gone into someone else’s pocket.”

Early on, Hernandez said, he discovered a set of books that encouraged skimming. He called his wife and said: “Guess what they do here? They steal.”

Citing various personal and organizational causes to which he contributed, Hernandez said, “The person next to me says he lost his job; I give him $200. That’s me. I don’t say no to anybody. Everybody else’s problems are on my shoulders.”

Hernandez seems to think he’s a stand-up guy because he gave a pal $200. Or because, as he told Platte, he gave San Diego State $5,000. Hernandez says he might have given away around $1 million.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I don’t know if there’s a legal definition of charity, but I’m sure it doesn’t stretch to include stealing $8 million from a company and then giving one-eighth of it to other people, keeping a mere seven-eighths for yourself.

Is that really how Robin Hood did it, the person to whom Hernandez compares himself? Did Robin Hood have 15 cars, live in a five-bedroom house and dress in Armani suits?

Does Mr. Hernandez realize that lots of people give $200 to a friend in need, and that they do it even when they aren’t bankrolled by stolen money? Does he realize that lots of people give money to colleges and universities? Sure, it’s for tax write-offs, but at least it’s their money.

His defense--that he was able to do much good because of the money he stole--is about as credible as crooks who say they did bad because they were under the influence of a narcotic. Hernandez was under the influence, all right. Under the influence of the fast buck. What he sees as unbridled charity the rest of us see as subconscious easing of the guilt that comes from theft.

Hernandez says he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. “Who did I hurt?” he asks.

In his megalomania, he probably thinks the answer is nobody. He probably would be dumbfounded to discover that his friend doesn’t want $200 stolen from someone else. Or that San Diego State may not want $5,000 in pilfered funds.

And finally, even though Hernandez claims he did nothing wrong, he has no trouble understanding that testifying against other company officials will save him some prison time.

That he understands. After all, it’s just another deal.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.