I’m sitting in a dim corner of my life, sipping on the bitter dregs of betrayal, when I decide to fire off an email to Jennifer Rumsey, the big boss at Cummins Ltd, on 26 April 2025. I’m a nobody, an ex-low-level employee with a dog named Oscar and a chip on my shoulder the size of a semi-truck. I ask for a “big conversation,” the kind where you lay it all out: the dirt, the lies, the exhaust fumes of a company that’s been choking on its own hypocrisy. I want to talk about HR caught red-handed editing documents, a record $1.675 billion fine with no admission of guilt, and their slick buzzword machine spitting out “sustainability” while barely whispering the word “diesel” in public. Rumsey’s response is a deafening silence, the kind that echoes in the back alleys of corporate cowardice. She’s dodging me, likely because TCAP’s been calling out their sins louder than a backfiring engine. This ain’t accountability, folks. It’s all exhaust smoke and mirrors, a phrase I coined to capture Cummins’ slippery ways.
Let’s start with the HR crew, the kind of children in suits who’d rewrite your life story if it meant saving their own hides. They got caught editing documents, my documents, tweaking metadata like they’re seasoning a bad stew, hoping no one notices the rot underneath. They altered my agreed-upon adjustments, the kind of paperwork that’s supposed to protect a guy who’s already down. They denied it, made up an excuse, a 3 month old spelling mistake, didn’t you know? It’s not just sloppy. It’s a deliberate knife in the back, the kind of move that’d make even the shadiest line cook in a greasy spoon blush. Cummins talks a big game about ethics, but when HR’s playing fast and loose with the truth, that’s not ethics. That’s a cover-up, served cold with a side of corporate denial.
Then there’s the emissions scandal, a real gut-punch of a story that’d make any honest mechanic spit out his coffee. For a decade, Cummins installed defeat devices on nearly a million pickup trucks, cheating emissions tests and pumping out thousands of tons of excess filth into the air. The feds caught on, and Cummins paid a record $1.675 billion fine, the largest ever of its kind, plus $325 million more to clean up their mess. But here’s the kicker: they admitted no wrongdoing. Not a single “we screwed up.” It’s like torching a kitchen, serving burnt slop to a thousand customers, and then shrugging, “Hey, nobody died.” The execs who ran the show, Tom Linebarger, Rich Freeland, Jim Fier, bailed between 2019 and 2023, right as the settlement dropped in early 2024. Their exits were timed like a getaway car peeling out of a botched heist, leaving Cummins to face the heat while they slipped into the shadows.
And don’t get me started on their buzzword machine. It’s a thing of beauty, a carefully oiled contraption that’d make a carnival barker jealous. Cummins loves to talk about “sustainability,” a word they trot out to investors and eco-warriors alike, painting themselves as the saviors of a cleaner tomorrow. But here’s the dirty little secret: they barely say the word “diesel” in public. It’s like they’re ashamed of the very thing that built their empire, the black gold that’s powered their engines for decades. Search their press releases, their shiny website, their CEO’s speeches. Diesel’s a ghost, mentioned only in whispers, buried under layers of jargon like “alternative fuel solutions” and “hydrogen innovation.” It’s a masterclass in sleight of hand, a buzzword ballet designed to make you forget the diesel fumes still clinging to their legacy. Meanwhile, they’re out there claiming sustainability as their gospel, as if a fresh coat of eco-paint can cover the cracks in their foundation.
I wanted Rumsey to face this mess head-on. I wanted her to sit down, look me in the eye, hell, look Oscar in the eye, and explain why Cummins keeps dodging accountability like a street vendor dodging the health inspector. My dog Oscar, TCAP’s mascot, has been my rock through this fight, his wet nose and loyal heart reminding me why I’m still here, still swinging. I figured Rumsey might have the guts to talk, to own up to the HR edits, the fine, the buzzword smoke screen. But her silence tells me everything: Cummins is scared of the truth TCAP’s been serving up. They can’t handle the heat of a real conversation, so they hide behind their polished image, their carefully managed words, their record fines with no apologies. Oscar and I are still here, waiting for that “big conversation” they’re too scared to have. Until then, we’ll keep stirring the pot, because the truth doesn’t come cheap, and neither does justice.
Lee Thompson
Founder