The Senate president said the Committee of the Whole would lead to referrals to several agencies.
Photos by Norenid Feliciano | Centro de Periodismo Investigativo

Politank has become one of the Jenniffer González administration’s biggest vulnerabilities. There are more questions than answers about Domenech and his exit from the lobbying firm he founded in 2009. In October, the Centro de Periodismo Investigativo (CPI) reconstructed the sale of the firm based on the account of the man who says he is its sole owner, Manuel Torres Nieves. But he left key questions unanswered, including the sale price and who was involved in the company when the transaction took place. It also remained unclear how the company’s capitalization suddenly quintupled in 2024, the same year Politank “bought” Domenech’s shares. It was also an election year.

Although Domenech did not fully clear up those details during the public hearing, he did reveal that only two people sat on Politank’s board at the time of the sale: Domenech and Manuel Torres Nieves.

The atmosphere at the Capitol resembled a governor’s inauguration. Shortly before noon, with more than an hour to go before the hearing began, Leopoldo Figueroa Hall was already full. The space, originally known as the Senate Ceremonial Hall, has borne Figueroa’s name since 1994, when then-Senate President Roberto Rexach Benítez renamed it in honor of a pro-independence politician who later became a statehood advocate. It is a broad, frigid ballroom of sorts, with parquet floors and chandeliers overhead. For the Committee of the Whole, the press was placed along one side of the room, their television cameras trained on a single chair: Domenech’s. Facing him were the senators at their desks on a four-tiered platform. Behind Domenech’s chair sat the audience: legislative aides, public employees and an entourage of agency heads.

Behind the reporters, on a mezzanine cordoned off from the rest of the room, there was a reserved area for staff and advisers to the Senate president. There sat Katherine Erazo, a New Progressive Party fundraiser, and former Public Affairs Secretary Anthony Maceira, who has worked as a lobbyist since resigning from government in the aftermath of the 2019 summer protests. During most of the breaks, Rivera Schatz went up to that mezzanine.

As senators finished praying before the hearing, applause broke out outside the Leopoldo. It came from the entourage accompanying Domenech, who entered gripping the hand of his wife, Verónica Ferraiuoli, followed by several aides.

Domenech walked to his seat, was sworn in, sat down and asked for 20 minutes to make an opening statement. Rivera Schatz told him he had 10. Domenech insisted, and in the end he got 15.
Photo by Norenid Feliciano | Centro de Periodismo Investigativo

After insisting that he is completely disconnected from Politank, Domenech turned to what he said mattered most to him: democracy, and how it is not lost all at once, but “little by little,” “from within.” As Rivera Schatz listened, leaning back in his chair, Domenech accused him of trying to usurp the governorship from the Legislature under different governors, of “weakening the executive branch,” engaging in “institutional intimidation,” and “distorting decision-making and the functioning” of government through “manufactured controversies.”

The chief of staff of an administration now trying to bring CPI before the Puerto Rico Supreme Court to restrict journalists’ access — and that has approved limits on the right to public information — went so far as to say that “a strong democracy requires a press that questions power and holds it accountable without fear.” He also recalled how the Senate president attacks those who challenge him.

“Democratic systems do not collapse overnight. They change when someone manages to tilt the balance of power without formally breaking it. That is what happened in Venezuela after Hugo Chávez was democratically elected in 1999; that is what happened in Germany in 1933, when Adolf Hitler legitimately became chancellor,” he continued.

When Domenech finished, Rivera Schatz referred to an inquiry his wife, Verónica Ferraiuoli, made last summer to the Office of Government Ethics after she decided to recuse herself from the contracting of a company at the Puerto Rico Convention Center District Authority, which she heads, because that company was a Politank client. Domenech said that opinion also applied to him, which was not true.

Photo by Norenid Feliciano | Centro de Periodismo Investigativo

Rivera Schatz pulled out a letter and asked a Senate employee to hand a copy to Domenech and distribute copies to reporters as well. The Senate president’s hand trembled as he passed the letter to the employee. It was cold in the Leopoldo. The letter had come from the Office of Government Ethics and, contrary to what Domenech believed, it said that the inquiry Ferraiuoli made did not extend to the governor’s chief of staff.

“So you are mistaken, attorney Domenech. Do not come here to lie or confuse matters. Here is the Office of Government Ethics response. Second, we are not persecuting socialists, union members or anyone else. What we will not allow is theft or corruption by anyone, no matter how much arrogance and overbearing behavior they choose to display. It is as simple as that,” Rivera Schatz said.

It was the first of several face-to-face clashes that would unfold throughout the afternoon.

As Domenech read his opening statement, Verónica Ferraiuoli was at the entrance to the Leopoldo insisting that security allow in a box stuffed with documents and folders. It was reminiscent of the one Ángel Cintrón — then president of the New Progressive Party’s youth wing — brought to an interview with Luis Francisco Ojeda nearly 40 years ago, earning him the nickname “Kid Cajita,” a reference to the box he carried. Cintrón had defended his friend fiercely in several interviews before the Committee of the Whole. Was he the one who suggested that Domenech bring a box of documents?

Ferraiuoli pressed several Senate security employees until, finally, an aide walked in carrying the box.

Beyond accompanying Domenech as his wife, Ferraiuoli played a leading role that day as an aide. A lawyer by training and a government official, she knows the Committee of the Whole process well. Last year, she faced one herself when she unsuccessfully sought confirmation as secretary of state. Throughout the day, Ferraiuoli approached Domenech, whispered in his ear, gave instructions to his advisers, and handed him notes and documents. As they entered and left Leopoldo Figueroa Hall, she held his hand or lightly placed hers on his back as they walked. The gestures stood in stark contrast to the image that first thrust Domenech into public view eight years ago: his wife filed a domestic violence complaint against him. She later withdrew the case, and both have said that episode is behind them.

Photo by Norenid Feliciano | Centro de Periodismo Investigativo

Because both work in government, Ferraiuoli and Domenech filed recusal requests with the Office of Government Ethics covering matters related to each other’s official duties. When Rivera Schatz asked how far that recusal extended, Domenech quickly replied that it applied to “all issues.”

“She cannot communicate with me,” he said.

But Ferraiuoli’s involvement was so visible that independence Sen. Adrián González questioned her presence, recalling what she herself had said during her own Committee of the Whole hearing: that government matters are not discussed in their home.

Domenech argued that their recusals apply within the executive branch, not the legislative branch, and that she remains his wife.

Unlike the recusal mechanism Domenech has in place with Ferraiuoli to avoid potential conflicts — which is in writing and filed with the Office of Government Ethics — the process he says he follows to recuse himself from matters involving Politank and its clients is very different. Almost an hour into the hearing, another disclosure emerged in response to questions from independence Sen. María de Lourdes Santiago: Ana Delgado, an employee in his office, does a preliminary review when contracts arrive for approval. If she believes any of them involve Politank or that firm’s clients, based on what appears in the Lobbyist Registry, she does not discuss the matter with him, he said. There is nothing in writing documenting that process. It was a verbal instruction, according to Domenech.

Rivera Schatz jumped in and asked whether any document exists setting out the procedure for recusing himself from matters involving Politank’s clients. Domenech began circling around the question and said what mattered was how he acted in practice.

“I am asking you, attorney Domenech, whether there is a written document, and afterward you can explain the actions, because we are about to talk about those. Tell me whether there is a written document, any formal written procedure, any rule governing your recusal. Yes or no?” the Senate president pressed.

“A formal written procedure, no,” Domenech replied.

For seven hours, lawmakers in Leopoldo Figueroa Hall fired off questions and made all kinds of statements about matters under Domenech’s jurisdiction: the hospital in Vieques that still has not opened; incentive payments for teachers and salary raises for police officers that have yet to arrive; the future of the former Roosevelt Roads Naval Station, still in limbo; roads that remain unrepaired; reconstruction funds that have not been disbursed. Some of those questions, although off topic, exposed a much deeper problem: the lack of communication between La Fortaleza, the governor’s mansion, and the Senate districts. There were also five-minute speaking turns that just as easily could have been an email.

Some rounds of questioning seemed to trail off without getting anywhere. Sen. Joanne Rodríguez Veve asked about a memorandum she never referred to by name — the lobbyists’ memorandum — which CPI reported on that same day, revealing that the government is failing to comply with it and with other rules governing lobbying in Puerto Rico.

There were also retaliatory turns. A young staffer quickly grabbed the phone he had been charging to record the moment when New Progressive Party Sen. Juan Oscar Morales used his time to question why Domenech had canceled his detail assignments — employees temporarily transferred from one agency to another, with their salaries following them — and whether it was retaliation for a bill he had introduced that La Fortaleza opposed. Domenech invoked executive privilege when asked whether he had spoken with the governor before taking what Morales described as a retaliatory action.

Even so, the sale of Politank remained a central issue throughout the Committee of the Whole’s seven-hour session. Domenech said the company bought his shares at a time when he was its sole shareholder, and that he received a check for about $4 million signed by a Politank employee whose name he did not disclose and whom no one asked him to identify.

He also spoke about some of Politank’s clients, including Intervoice. According to a sworn statement by former Health Secretary Carlos Mellado that “leaked” hours before the hearing, both Domenech and Kenneth McClintock — the former Senate president and a Politank employee — pressured him to cancel a bidding process in order to benefit that company. Domenech dismissed it as a political move by Mellado and accused the former secretary of lying under oath.

It was not until the sixth hour that the line of questioning emerged that may have revealed the most. It did not come from Eliezer Molina, Joanne Rodríguez Veve or the minority’s main spokespeople. It did not come from the Senate president or from any member of the New Progressive Party delegation. It came from Marially González Huertas, a Popular Democratic Party senator from Utuado who represents the Ponce district and serves as her party’s alternate spokesperson in the chamber.

The senator asked whether he had been the only member of the board of directors at the time of the sale. Domenech said no.

The senator asked whether there was a resolution documenting the transaction and whether minutes had been taken at that meeting. Domenech said there was a resolution.

The senator asked whether the company had a surplus because, if it did not, it would be in violation of Puerto Rico’s General Corporations Act, according to corporate lawyers who would later examine the details of the transaction. Domenech said he did not remember.

Popular Party Senator Marially González Huertas, from Utuado, asked whether Politank had audited financial statements at the time of the transaction and whether anyone had certified the corporation’s solvency. Domenech said no.
Photo by Norenid Feliciano | Centro de Periodismo Investigativo

The senator asked whether, as the sole shareholder, the corporation had effectively ceased to exist when he sold his shares. Domenech said no because, he argued, the law allows that to happen when there is another person willing to come in as a shareholder — and that, he said, is what happened with Manuel Torres Nieves, a man long tied to public service in posts including electoral comptroller and secretary of the Senate.

Rivera Schatz jumped in and asked how many shares Torres Nieves — who had served as his right-hand man in the Senate during two separate four-year terms — had purchased. Domenech said he did not remember.

Finally, the senator asked who else sat on the board of directors at the time he sold his shares. Domenech said it was just the two of them: himself and Manuel Torres Nieves.

“Dr. Leopoldo Figueroa Carreras — legislator, political leader, public servant, journalist, physician and lawyer — is truly deserving of the title Dean of Puerto Rican Legislators,” reads the opening of a 2006 law commemorating his birthday.

He began as an independence advocate inspired by family friend José Martí, one of Cuba’s liberators, and ended as a statehood advocate: first under the Puerto Rican Alliance, then in the Republican Union Party and the Statehood Party, and finally as a member of the New Progressive Party. As a lawmaker, he authored the law that created Puerto Rico’s public hospitals. When an effort was made in the late 1930s to block the registration of the Popular Democratic Party, Figueroa stepped in on behalf of a party that was not his own. Years later, when Popular Democrats were already in the majority, he was the one who criticized and gave a name to what is still known as the Gag Law. According to Popular Democratic leader Jaime Benítez, Leopoldo practiced “the principle of loyal opposition.”

From left, lawmakers Hernán Padilla, Benny Frankie Cerezo and Leopoldo Figueroa.
Photo from the book La convocatoria de una semilla: fundamentos y dinámicas del desarrollo constitucional de Puerto Rico, by Héctor Luis Acevedo.

The plaque at the entrance to the hall that bears his name describes him as “one of the most astute and distinguished politicians of his time.”

Leopoldo might have begun by asking Domenech how someone can successfully run Jenniffer González Colón’s primary and general election campaigns for governor while also somehow managing to quintuple the capitalization of his lobbying firm to more than $4 million. He might have dug deeper into exactly when he decided to sell the company to Manuel Torres Nieves — and exactly how that process unfolded.

Although 10 of the 28 senators present graduated from law school, Leopoldo Figueroa, who was also a lawyer, would likely have had a much firmer grasp of the corporate law issues at play. He might have had Politank’s financial report — publicly available at the Department of State of Puerto Rico — in hand to show the company’s dizzying rise in capitalization just before Domenech decided to cut ties with it. In all likelihood, it would not have taken five hours for someone to ask one of the most basic questions about a corporate entity: Who sits on its board of directors?

Needless to say, Leopoldo would have pressed to learn the name of every person tied to Politank, whether employee, contractor or collaborator. He would have wanted to know, for example, when Domenech last spoke with the only two people at Politank: Kenneth McClintock and Manuel Torres Nieves.

And as soon as he saw the sworn statement by former Health Secretary Carlos Mellado, in which Mellado said he felt intimidated and pressured during a meeting with Domenech to favor a Politank client, Leopoldo might have asked with whom else Domenech held similar meetings after González won the primary in the summer of 2024 and the general election in November, and before the inauguration in January.

The “Dean of Puerto Rican Legislators” might also have dug through the confidential ethics reports available to lawmakers to ask why both Domenech and his wife reported part of the income from the Politank transaction as accounts receivable if, in fact, it was all paid in a single check.

He would have asked about Domenech’s ties to other lobbyists because, after all, Puerto Rico is small. He might have asked why there were rumors that lobbyist Alfredo Escalera was somehow linked to Politank, and what kind of relationship Domenech has maintained with him since entering government.

In a discussion about alleged improper lobbying influence, Leopoldo might even have asked the chief of staff what his administration is doing to enforce the few rules that govern lobbying in Puerto Rico. No one asked him how he could make effective the recusal mechanism he devised for matters involving Politank when that firm has not even updated its Lobbyist Registry filing since February 2025.

And perhaps he would have asked what Domenech brought in that box full of documents. The check from the sale of Politank? The corporate resolution or purchase agreement? A personal log of every time he has recused himself? One thing is certain: the recusal process involving Politank would not have been in that box because, as he himself acknowledged, he never put it in writing. What matters, he says, are the actions.