When, in December 2009, Xavier Cos stepped out to sing in Barcelona’s Plaça del Rei, his heart must have been thumping in his chest. A long-standing member of one of Europe’s most established choral societies, the Orfeó Català, he was acutely aware of how significant this concert was – not just for the choir, but for the building that had been its home since 1908. After becoming embroiled in an embezzlement scandal that had seen the Palau de la Música Catalana splashed across the front pages of every national newspaper in Spain, all those associated with the concert hall felt a keen sense of responsibility. They needed to earn back the trust of the Catalan community, and reclaim the humanitarian spirit upon which the institution was founded. Tonight’s concert, given freely to the people of Barcelona, was the first step in that healing process.
“I remember it being very emotional. We needed to show the difficulties that the institution was going through in order to heal our wounds. It was important to cleanse ourselves; it was important to be transparent with society.” In a documentary, broadcast on Spanish television earlier this month, Cos reflects on the circumstances surrounding the scandal. “The events caused uproar among the singers,” he explains. “Our institution, a place we love … was under a dark cloud.”
The person responsible for that cloud was Fèlix Millet, former President of the Fundació Orfeó Català. Between 1999 and 2009, Millet, along with the Palau’s de facto Director Jordi Montull, had been funnelling money through the Palau, facilitating an illegal kickbacks-for-contracts scheme between the Spanish construction company Ferrovial and the centre-right political party Democratic Convergence of Catalonia (CDC). Over the course of a decade Ferrovial paid €6.6m to the CDC in return for public works contracts, whilst a total of €24 million went missing from the Palau’s accounts. Millet used his cut to fund an extravagant lifestyle whilst the Orfeó suffered under lacklustre management and paltry resources. “One of the main complaints from the singers was that they never got to do concerts anywhere else,” explains his replacement Mariona Carulla. “There were cuts all the time in singing classes, in trips out. Felix always said this was because there wasn’t enough money.”
Millet’s reign was cut short in July 2009 when, after an anonymous tip off, the Palau’s offices were raided by the Mossos d'Esquadra (the autonomous police force of Catalonia). Despite initial scepticism of his guilt (this man was, after all, the great-grandson of the Orfeó’s co-founder, Lluís Millet), the board of the Palau immediately installed Carulla in Millet’s place, and Joan Llinares – now director of Valencian Anti-Fraud Agency – was brought in as interim Director.
Llinares set about quite literally piecing together the facts. “On that first day something set the alarm bells ringing. An employee came to my office and told me that the shredders hadn’t stopped running. So I ordered them to be unplugged … After several weeks, by putting the shredded documents back together again, we were able to obtain a file that we subsequently nicknamed the ‘Rosetta Stone of the Palau’.” When Llinares then discovered nearly €200,000 had gone missing from the office safe and a document detailing the distribution of money amongst the Millet family – “their expenses, trips to Menorca, horse-riding lessons” – he decided to call in external lawyers and auditors to help make sense of the growing scandal. This newly-assembled team would spend the remainder of their summer pulling 12-hour shifts, sifting through evidence and painstakingly documenting each cent that had passed through the Palau’s accounts.
The most shocking discovery came late one night after an Orfeó concert. Llinares had snuck back to his office for one last look over a series of documents that had been puzzling him and his team. These documents showed bank transfers worth €90,000 and €130,000 to companies that had worked on Catalan election campaigns, whilst another file contained a picture linking the Palau’s Ferrovial sponsorship to a series of transfers for the same amounts. In a eureka moment, Llinares matched the figures to a set of invoices assigned to one ‘Daniel’, who, after analysing Millet and Montull’s diaries, he was able to identify as the treasurer of the CDC, Daniel Osàcar. The scale of the discovery went beyond anything Llinares or his team had anticipated. Not only did it directly implicate the Palau and its sponsor Ferrovial, but also a political party partnered in a coalition that had dominated Catalan regional politics for the last 30 years.