NEWS REVUE SPECIAL: "MONACOGATE"
Corruption, Whistleblowing & Mayhem
“‘Monacogate’: the revelations to the police of Claude Palmero, Prince Albert II's former confidant”
Otherwise known as “The Palmero Affair.”
Claude Palmero—palace bean-counter turned blabbermouth—was once the accountant quietly pulling strings behind the scenes. He was also a Walter Mitty-grade fantasist with a taste for real estate corruption and covert influence.
This is the same Claude Palmero who fiercely opposed the formation of an intelligence service in Monaco—because it began exposing his own shady dealings in the Larvotto development project. At the heart of it: a secret scheme in league with Thierry Lacoste, Albert’s now-disgraced ex-lawyer, to become silent partners with Groupe Marzocco in exchange for steering Prince Albert’s favor toward a floating island construction project off the public beach.
After 17 years of looking the other way, the prince finally woke up and fired him, and Lacoste.
Now, stripped of power and under scrutiny, Palmero has reinvented himself as a “whistleblower”—having had the whistle blown squarely on him. As such, he is spilling the beans on Albert’s shortcomings and failures (all true) to the media.
From Panamanian shell companies and black-budget ops to hush money for mistresses and secret pied-à-terres in London for romantic rendezvous Albert did not want his wife, Charlène, knowing about. (Oops.)
Palace investigators are aghast at the sheer scale of Palmero’s two-decade corruption spree—and equally unimpressed by Albert’s long-standing obliviousness.
Albert comes off as careless, compromised and clownish—duped by Palmero and Lacoste, who weaponized trust and discretion into a personal piggy bank.
There are no winners in this game.
But lets’s examine this article:
Palmero’s notebooks offer a no-holds-barred view of Monaco’s monarchy in meltdown.
What started as a Palace feud has spiraled into "Monacogate"—a scandal with global implications.
Monaco’s ruling family, already under EU scrutiny for money laundering, now faces Palmero’s claims of asset obfuscation, surveillance ops, and royal hush-hush spending.
This isn't just about missing millions—it’s about institutional rot and the collapse of trust at the very top.
If this were a TV reality show, it would be called “Monte Carlo Mayhem.”
Monaco’s motto may be “Deo Juvante” (With God’s Help), but at this rate, it’s going to need more than divine intervention.