Nearly five months in a dilapidated New York City island prison known for its cold cells and violent inmates is what awaits Allen Weisselberg, once the chief financial officer at the corporate empire of former President Donald Trump and is now a tax fraudster.
On Tuesday in Manhattan criminal court, a state judge sentenced the wealthy 75-year-old to five months in prison at Rikers, noting that he was inclined to give Weisselberg an even harsher sentence. than. He cites how Weisselberg abused his position of power at the Trump Organization to cook up the books — and gave his wife an absentee job just so she could qualify for a close-up pension. tax.
“It is driven purely by greed. Pure and simple. The whole case was motivated by greed,” Judge Juan Mercan said. “At a time when so many Americans work hard in the hope that they will one day benefit from Social Security, your client has found a way to give his wife a 6,000 salary payment. dollars so she can contribute to Social Security so she can one day get benefits she’s not entitled to.
Weisselberg avoided what could have been a longer sentence when he reached a plea agreement with New York County prosecutors and agreed to testify against the company, which has been convicted of various crimes. similar crimes in December. The company will be convicted this Friday and fined.
Under standard New York procedure, Weisselberg would only serve two-thirds of his actual five-month sentence if he remained in good conduct, meaning he would likely serve less than four months in total.
But even if his sentence is shortened, every day he spends on Rikers Island will be its own hell.
“No matter what you think about Weisselberg politically, spending 100 days on Rikers Island would be an absolute misery,” said attorney Eliza Orlins, a public attorney whose clients are regularly transferred there. newspaper. “People are suffering there. They do not receive their medical appointments. They can’t get food. They do not receive clean sanitary conditions. It was horrible for every person who had to go there.
The conditions were so bad that human rights activists actively tried to close the prison for years. And a detainee lawsuit that led to a landmark settlement with the city that placed a federal supervisor in charge of ameliorating deplorable conditions there was nothing. Seven years and $18 million later, the effort has come under close scrutiny for its poor results – a shocking failure that brought press coverage. Gothamist to judge that “the city prison system is actually much more dangerous and dangerous than it used to be.”
Problems for Weisselberg are expected to begin as soon as he arrives on the island, a drab and stark collection of gray buildings on an island in the East River between the Bronx and Queens.
As part of the slow adoption process, he will wait with New Yorkers dragged off the streets for violent crimes and emotionally unstable outbursts on his subway. city—sharing space for an indefinite period of time with members of dangerous gangs such as the Dominican trio, who assert a strong presence on the Rikers.
According to defense attorneys who spoke with The Daily Beast, Riker’s delayed admissions system was perhaps the most grueling part of the process — and home to a growing number of suicides in the United States. there.
Last year, a shocking 19 inmates committed suicide at the prison, and human rights advocates point to the difficult time they have to go through in overcrowded cells. Last month, Kevin Bryan endured 23 hours forcing him to sleep on the floor. He hanged himself on arrival at his housing center.
Weisselberg is expected to be sent there as well. The New York City Department of Corrections told The Daily Beast that “convicts are typically held at the Eric M. Taylor Center” until the prison’s screening process determines where Weisselberg will be held permanently. far.
At that point, it can go one of two ways. He will be placed with detainees awaiting trial — who tend to be more violent and capricious — or with convicts who are largely trying to serve their sentences. their short in relative calm.
Winston Nguyen, who spent the first half of 2019 at Rikers for financial crimes, said: “As for the verdict, everyone tries to keep their nose down because it’s too short.
“If he stays with the detainees, a lot of the problems are that the housing is frequently toppled. Tends to fight more. Someone always trying to assert dominance. When I was there, there was a big gang element. The guards ask you, ‘Do you sympathize with this gang or another gang?’ So it’s not dramatic,” Nguyen said. “They’ll put him anywhere.”
But Nguyen, who now teaches at a private high school in Brooklyn, cautions that Rikers is still intolerable for everyone.
In lawsuits against the city reviewed by The Daily Beast, detainees regularly complain about the lack of the most basic of items: clean underwear, blankets to keep warm in the winter, and inadequate air conditioning. air for cooling in the hot summer.
The Weisselberg will have a city-issue gray top and bottom, made of a rough material that can be rubbed hard against the skin. But he will have to bring white underwear, socks and bras. These undergarments were coveted behind bars, because inmates could only keep what they brought with them—up to five at a time.
Nguyen recalls how he wore five pairs of underwear on the way in and had layers of socks on his feet, which made it difficult for him to put on his shoes—he didn’t keep them anyway. Rikers issued shoes to prisoners, but popular sizes disappeared quickly, so some inmates stuck with what Nguyen called oversized “clown shoes” for months.
Then there’s the phone. Prisoners have a maximum of 25 minutes per day (maximum 15 minutes at a time). However, government phones are not what they seem. Weisselberg will need to strike a deal with stately prisoners who think the phone belongs to them.
Nguyen warns: “Don’t fight over using your phone. “The phones are owned by gang members… even though the phone appears to be free, it is assigned to different people.”
An inmate “owns” the farthest right phone. Another person owns the adjacent one. None of them belong to you.
“If it seems free, you have to ask the person if you can use it. ‘Can I use it for the time being?’ It’s Big Daddy’s from 9 to 10. You have to ask them if you can use it. Most of the fights happened between people trying to use their phones,” Nguyen recalls.
Irregular medical and court appointments are also problematic. Inmates would leave their living quarters and be placed in what detainees call a “cage” for long periods of time. But it’s also been the site of some tragedies at Rikers, because correctional officers would leave detainees there as they waited for transport—sometimes extending that time as a form of punishment.
“Whenever you come out of a building, they put you in the barn. Those are areas that tend to be overcrowded,” Nguyen said. “Faces on the wall. Some guys will intentionally clog the toilet and flood the water. Part of it is that people intentionally vandalize that area to get attention. It can be hours, especially if there is a shift change.”
And it can get lonely. Family members and friends are notoriously difficult to visit Rikers Island, a maze of bureaucratic processes that includes catching a bus from Queens to the island, going through security, and catching another bus to the area. the prisoner’s home and go through a one-second screening—then wait for an indefinite amount of time to meet the person.
“It was a half-day excursion,” Nguyen said.
