In this issue's Performance Review, Fast Company analyzes the opening defense arguments for L. Dennis Kozlowski and Frank Quattrone, the besieged chiefs of Tyco International and Credit Suisse First Boston's technology group, respectively. While the outcome of their trials still may be up in the air, the court cases raise important questions. Should CEOs and other chief executives be held accountable for the sins and ills of their organizations? Is top-level ignorance of breaches of the law ever a defense? Join Fast Company readers as members of the jury and make your voice heard.

Frank Quattrone strode into the federal court building in New York with his customary confidence. Dapper in gray tweed and a neatly cropped moustache, he waved and posed for the hurtling phalanx of photographers. Just another deal, man. As boss of Credit Suisse First Boston's technology group, Quattrone was one of the most powerful men on Wall Street. He launched public offerings for Amazon.com and Cisco. He practically minted money. People--important people--did as he said.

A block up Centre Street, by coincidence, former Tyco International chief L. Dennis Kozlowski was beginning his run at the New York State Supreme Court. A bald, imposing linebacker of a man bearing a weird resemblance to Mr. Clean, Kozlowski was to CEOs what Quattrone was to bankers: an alpha leader, a big swinging you-know-what. Through hundreds of acquisitions, Kozlowski took Tyco from inconsequential mishmash to $36 billion in sales.

Which is why we were all there, scrambling for gallery seats. These guys were kingpins, as rich and as powerful as they come--and then, according to the United States of America and the state of New York, respectively, they done wrong. Quattrone was charged with obstruction of justice for allegedly instructing coworkers to destroy documents that might have furthered an SEC investigation. As for Kozlowski, well, what wasn't he charged with? Essentially, Manhattan assistant district attorney Kenneth Chalifoux accused Tyco's former CEO (with former CFO Mark Swartz) of dipping into Tyco's corporate honey jar to the tune of $600 million. "The concepts are simple," Chalifoux said. "Lying, cheating, and stealing."

To which Quattrone and Kozlowski responded, through their attorneys--allow us to translate from the original legalese--It wasn't our fault. Other people called the shots. They knew the deal. Their defenses were less about innocence than about power. Suddenly, these big shots were desperate to show how little power they really had.

Their lawyers' opening statements made for telling codas to two years of alleged corruption, malfeasance, and all-around bad behavior. With these trials, America begins to formally reckon with its Era of Excess. And an awkward reckoning it is. Corporations paid execs big money because these people were, ostensibly, responsible. Yet here were lawyers telling us that responsibility was someone else's problem.