The 13th Regional Corp. has come under investigation by Alaska's Division of Banking and Securities. But why and what might come of the inquiry remains unknown. Citing confidentiality, state officials aren't willing to talk about it.
The secret investigation is just one more incident over a long road, spanning years now, in which shareholders say they can't seem to get answers about or help with the troubled corporation or its board members, who routinely dodge demands for transparency and adherence to state reporting laws.
Even the state's highest politicians -- to whom shareholders have gone for assistance -- aren't exactly jumping at the chance to insert themselves in the controversy. These unhappy and deeply frustrated shareholders of Alaska's only landless Native corporation may also be among Alaska's corporate shareholders with the least clout.
Data filed with the state earlier this month shows just under 10 percent, or 500, of the Native corporation's 5,200 shareholders call Alaska home. With nearly 90 percent of the shareholders living in other states, what incentive do Alaska's government leaders or agencies have to lend a hand?
A few shareholders who have become de-facto watchdogs, like Carl Hart, who years ago was in discussions about potentially joining the board himself, are growing weary of the fight. It's a worthy fight, Hart said in a recent interview, but one in which he and a handful of other shareholders need reinforcement.
It's important "to make these people accountable for their role in driving this corporation into the ground, but more importantly, to hold them accountable for turning their noses to their shareholders and failing to meet their fiduciary duties to report their failures to shareholders," he said.
Hart has ongoing concerns about the corporation's business activities and what's happened to the money it generated in 2010, including whether the income may have offset lingering financial liabilities.
In December 2009, Alaska Dispatch reported on the strange cloud of mystery under which the 13th Regional Corp., apparently in dire financial straits, was operating. More than a year later, little seems to have changed, but for a passing admission by State of Alaska personnel that some kind of investigation was under way as recently as August 2010.
The corporation's unknown status is a maddening phenomena for shareholders who believe board members of the 13th have played fast and loose with what money may still exist and who have failed, as required by law, to be transparent about the corporation's affairs and fiscal status. They have nagged state agencies to do something -- anything -- to get the attention of board members and force some kind of helpful action. And, they have called on Alaska's Congressional delegation, in hopes it might reasonably be concerned about a failing corporation given that Alaska Native corporations owe their very existence to federal mandates that not only gave birth to them, but that also endow them with special access to government contracts and instill in them significant responsibility to use earnings to improve the lives of shareholders.
Thirty-six years after the creation of the 13th Regional Corp., who's looking out for its shareholders now?
Members of the corporation are so estranged from its dealings that in the months that have passed since Alaska Dispatch first reported on the corporation's ghostly existence, several shareholders, generally all Outsiders, have e-mailed looking for help. Who do they contact? How can they register to receive their annual dividend payment? Those who have stayed in contact with the corporation, however loosely, know that there have been no dividend payments for years. Unless there is a drastic turnaround, it's possible they may never see a payment again.
The money is one thing. But for the vigilant shareholders of the 13th, demanding responsible conduct -- as if it believed shareholders are at minimum owed insight into what's going on -- comes down to doing the right thing. So far, they feel "doing the right thing" may be an extinct instinct among people with any shred of power or influence over the situation.
Read the complete story at Alaska Dispatch.