Traitor or dupe?
By lex, on February 12th, 2008
By most accounts, Gregg Bergersen seems to have been a normal “guy next door.” A weapons policy analyst working for the Defense Security Cooperation Agency, he was pleasant to the neighbors and cheered his NCIS agent wife on when she ran her marathons.
He also allegedly shared classified information on weapon sales to Taiwan with an agent of the Chinese government:
Bergersen was… recorded, according to court documents, as telling (Chinese businessman Tai Shen) Kuo: “Now, the other information I gave you, um, I’m very, very, very reticent to let you have it, because it’s all classified . . . but I, I will let you see it . . . and you can take all the notes you want.”
“I appreciate it. I appreciate it,” Kuo said.
“But I, I, if it ever fell into the wrong hands, and I know it’s not going to, but if it ever . . . then I would be fired for sure. I’d go to jail . . . because I violated all the rules.
If proven, the government’s case sounds like the classic social engineering scam: A guy befriends you, buys you a drink, gets around in time to asking for a copy of the agency phone book. See, the business he’s in, he wants to sell things to the government, and he needs to network a little. You really oughtn’t give it to him – it’s for official use only – but, hey, what’s the harm? It’s just a phone book.
Now you’re a dupe.
You meet for lunch every now and again, and he always pays. It’s an expense, he explains. Comes off the taxes. Next thing you know you’re on a trip to New Orleans or Vegas and he’s got the bill – your money’s no good here. But he could use a little inside tipper on the competition. Nothing classified, mind – just a little bit of which way the breeze is blowing. Help him target the niche. Maybe he lands the contract, gets the agency what they need at a fair price. Good for everybody.
And then suddenly, without quite knowing how you’re in too deep. You’re breaking the really big rules, showing him the list – the classified list – and letting him take notes. Risking your livelihood, your good name, your family. Your freedom.
Your country’s security.
And then you’re caught on tape with your new best bud stuffing a half-inch wad of $100 bills in your shirt pocket. You feel a little unquiet all the time now, something in the pit of your stomach. An awareness of being a regular guy who has suddenly found himself way across the line, with no clear understanding of how it happened, or how to get back. And the feeling never quite goes away.
And then one day the FBI shows up when you’re getting ready to go for a run, but it isn’t a social call, they’re wearing body armor and have automatic weapons drawn, and you’re really not surprised. In a way you were kind of waiting for them. Had been for a while.
Next thing you know you’re lying face down on the cold ground with the bracelets snapping around your wrists, and they’ve got a warrant and your wife is proclaiming your innocence and the neighbors are staring and it started off as only a phone book.
But now you’re a traitor.
And you’re asking yourself, how did it come to this?
Well, if the government’s right Mr. Bergersen – and over here at least, you’re still innocent until proven otherwise – you’ll have plenty of time to think on that.