Author's Note: Sorry for the length of this post and so much exposition. I need to get all this out of the way so I could move past the initial prosecution phase and start writing about incarceration. RAH
During the Spring of 2003 I spent my days alone with my dog, Seabright. I was a prisoner in my house. I had become increasingly paranoid that everyone I walked past on the street knew of me and my case. I mostly never read the newspapers because I also believed that if I didn't read about my case then that meant others didn't either. But one day I bought the Daily News and there was a story that the three top executives of HDC were fired the day before. Deputy Mayor Dan Doctoroff had armed guards waiting for them and had them escorted out. Charles "Chuck" Brass, my successor, was praised in the article for his diligent efforts to do me in. I had a rare laugh that day when I read that a friend of Chuck's was quoted as saying, Chuck regrets the day he ever met Harding.
I laughed because Chuck had chafed under my reforms at HDC. He hated reporting to me; someone younger with no housing experience. Chuch really resented that my reforms had worked, HDC was functioning terrifically and most of the staff had come to respect and admire me. So he sought another job as President of the NYC Housing Partnership. Within one year he was about to be fired and literally begged me to take him back. His successor had turned out to be awful. He resigned and the job at HDC was vacant. During drinks at a bar in Battery Park City, Chuck was close to tears describing his imminent dismissal and his desire to come back. It was in fact his only option. Against everything I knew to be right, I hired him back. Further, because I felt badly for him and didn't seek to see him humiliated, I gave him a promotion in title, although in title only. This was the man he regretted ever meeting.
Since I had left HDC I routinely received e-mails from former staff describing how bad things had become. Chuck had turned out to be a hard manager. That's fine. But he was also extremely paranoid. Everything was compared to me. If something was submitted to him he didn't like, he would say, "You never would have submitted that to Russell." If someone came late to a meeting, he would say, "You never would have kept Russell waiting." He closed my office and moved his office so that he would be able to watch the main floor of staff from his desk. The atmosphere was described to me like a 19th Century office: the manager sitting on a raised platform overlooking the room of workers. That's not how you manage experienced professionals. But he never learned proper management techniques plus the paranoia.
The saddest thing to me was reading that the whirlwind that Chuck had started but now couldn't control, had ensnared David Boccio and Harry Fried, the General Counsel and CFO. Doctoroff had fired them as well and also had them forcibly removed. No finer General Counsel anywhere than David Boccio, a major loss to HDC. Harry Fried had 9 kids (all daughters). The staff e-mailed to tell me that everyone at HDC blamed Chuck for David and Harry's dismissals, not me. That was nice to hear. Although I knew this was all Chuck's doing, I couldn't help feel guilty. But I was very glad that Chuck's hatred of me had come to be his own undoing. Fired from two jobs in three years. I'm only human and it was some small solace.
One of the conditions of my bail was that I had to speak to my father daily. I thought that condition particularly ridiculous and insulting. I was almost 40 years-old and, until recently, had managed a multi-billion dollar corporation . Of course we didn't speak daily, but the condition having been imposed at all pissed me off. As I have mentioned previously, I tried to bifurcate my relationship with my father. I kept the personal side happy and open but the legal side I kept between myself and Shargel.
Earlier that year, Shargel had asked me to come to his house for a meeting on a Saturday. It happened to be the same day as a snowstorm, so I bundled-up and trudged up Lexington Ave to his apartment. He told me that we had to settle the matter of money. He had been charging me an hourly rate under the current retainer agreement and, at this rate, the amounts would be enormous. He proposed a flat-fee arrangement and that we sign a new flat-fee retainer agreement. He told me I needed to sell my apartment - my only major asset - right away to pay what would be the balance of the fee. I walked home in the storm very depressed. All I had was that apartment, it was my home and I loved living there. It had been an amazing investment. I had purchased it in 1996 for $159,000 and was now worth 2-3x that. My mother told me endless times that I was lucky to have the apartment to sell in order to pay Jerry.
A friend and neighbor, Arline, had recently become a real estate agent and was looking for her first sale. I agreed to let her list the apartment. She suggested I have it painted and she rearranged my furniture. She also recommended a price of $420,000. I thought that amount too low, but when I had put out feelers earlier, $500,000 seemed too much. On the first day the apartment was shown, the first couple to walk-in offered the full $420k on the spot. I should have been happy, but I was not. It was evidence to me that the price had been set too low. But it was done (three years later, the apartment below mine would sell for $800,000). Fortunately, I had almost no mortgage, so the sale proceeds would go almost entirely to pay Shargel. It would bring his total fee to almost $600k. The sale closed very quickly and I asked for an extra month to move out. It was sad to pack up that apartment. I knew at that point that this would be my last home. I moved back with my parents in July.
Before I moved, I asked my parents for one thing. For the prior nine years my brother had been making a temporary residence of my parent's apartment. First, while working in the Giuliani Administration as the City's Albany lobbyist, then Budget Director and finally Deputy Mayor. His family lived in the Albany area and he did not want to move them. Instead, he enjoyed four days a week away from them living back in his old bedroom rent-free. And that was the key. My brother had become this incredibly cheap person. He would look for ways to cut costs for everyone but himself.
He especially enjoyed living back at home because my mother and her cleaning woman made his life very easy: laundry, meals, stocked fridge, etc. My mother was in awe of his nerve in complaining that his laundry wasn't done on time or his dry cleaning wasn't turned around fast enough. My parents, not without means to be sure, marveled that he never offered to pay for anything or even make a nice gesture (buy a bag of groceries, buy my mother some flowers, etc.) But he held all the cards, as I would discover, and they were not going to challenge him on anything.
The one request I made of my parents before moving in was that for the duration of my stay my brother, Robert Harding, live somewhere else when he was in NYC. My parents immediately agreed. My brother and I hadn't spoken in seven years and he had made it very clear to my parents that he believed I should be prosecuted, sent to prison and that my problems were mostly their doing due to permissive parenting. Under these circumstances and because I wasn't in great mental shape, I didn't want to live with him.
I am not aware first-hand of their conversation, but apparently my parents told him that he wouldn't be staying there during my stay and his response was that he refused. He told them to forget about it, he was not going to pay for an apartment or a hotel. At this point he was a partner in a large large firm, Greenberg Traurig, and was making over $500,000 a year. He was still choosing to spend 2-3 days a week in NYC at their NY office, even though his job was to establish Greenberg's Albany lobbying office. And that was that. Years earlier, when my brother and I had stopped speaking, he instructed my parents to disinvite me from the High Holy Days and from Passover at their house - and they did. After that, I would choose not to step foot in their apartment for the next five years.
Why were my parents powerless over him? They had come to believe with absolute certainty that if they refused any request from him or made any demands upon him, he would withhold his kids, their grandchildren, from them. I learned this when my mother told me explicitly why they had backed down when he was asked to make temporary living arrangements. This didn't shock me. It only surprised me that my parents had finally and fully come to understood what a scumbag he was. His interactions with them would always remind me of that famous Twilight Zone episode with little Anthony (Billy Mummy of Lost in Space fame) who had to be kept happy at all times, lest he wish you away to the corn field. In my parent's case, the corn field was withholding my nieces from them.
The thing I knew, but that my parent's didn't, was how long I would be staying with them. They assumed that it would be some time, given that a trial was many months away. But I knew it would only be for 4-5 months. I had decided weeks earlier that since the case was hopeless I would commit suicide rather than go to prison. Why hopeless? This was 2002-2003 and my two charges could not have been worse for the time. This was the height of Enron and corporate greed. This was also smack in the middle of the priest molestation scandal. I was charged with embezzlement from a corporation and possession of child porn. These two charges, at that time, were like a tsunami coming at you in a canoe.
But even so, I could have taken my chances at trial or even plead guilty and cut a deal. Why would I not examine those two options before suicide? First, I stood no chance of receiving a fair trial. I had an attorney whose defense was going to be focused on me being an idiot who plundered HDC because I was a hack and shouldn't be treated harshly by the court for having been over my head. I flatly rejected that defense. Tony Carbonetti coined the term, the Donald Trump defense. Nothing against Trump. It was meant to convey the idea that I was in over my head as an inexperienced corporate leader coupled with a picture of me as someone who took the powers and perks of my job to the extreme; I thought and behaved like Donald Trump. Carbonetti and Shargel thought this the best defense. I did not.
Not because of any ego on my part. If I had thought for a second that it stood some chance of success I would have considered it. What I knew, that Jerry would never seem to believe, was that I had been really good at my job. The prosecution knew this as well. Had we gone forward making the claim that I was some dope, only interested in trips and perks, the government could have put on dozens of witnesses who would testify that I was in full control of HDC and made all major decisions. It would have been a pointless defense. I wanted to defend my actions, show they were legal - however morally questionable - and that I had done a tremendous amount of good for low and middle income New Yorkers in turning HDC around and financing record amounts of housing. That was how you stood a chance with a jury, not that I was an idiot with a corporate credit card.
But Jerry would have none of it. He refused to put on any affirmative defense that would defend my actions. He told me repeatedly that he was not going to ruin his reputation by saying this trip or that was justified. I was astonished since at that moment Dennis Kozlowski's attorney was in state court defending his client having had TYCO pay for his $6,000 shower curtain. My actions were nothing approaching that universe of greed and yet my lawyer would not consider any defense that actually defended my actions.
His other course, which I did not reject, was to put on a psychiatric defense. I have written earlier that I initially rejected the idea with my previous attorney; I hate people who get caught up in criminal matters who then suddenly discover a psych excuse. But in my case, I had been seeing psychiatrists while at HDC and they had misdiagnosed me. After my troubles began, I was diagnosed by three doctors as being either bi-polar or severely bi-polar. Once the diagnosis was made, I did a lot of reading on my own. I was shocked to see how perfectly the symptoms fit my personality and actions. I was indeed bi-polar and had been for some time.
The problem with a psych defense was that my judge, Lewis Kaplan, had made it very, very clear he did not believe there was anything psychologically wrong with me. He said publicly, in court, that no one could have run HDC successfully and been bi-polar. It was an unbelievable thing for a judge to state without having heard any evidence from any witnesses (years later, psychiatrists in prison would tell me not only was Kaplan flatly wrong - there are textbooks filled with examples of highly-functioning corporate leaders with severe bi-polar disorder - but that they could not believe a judge would make such ill informed medical pronouncements).
Kaplan had gone so far to decide on his own that not only could we have only one doctor testify as to my mental condition, but that he himself would choose which one of my three doctors would be permitted to testify. It was unprecedented for a judge to choose which doctor could testify and not allow the defense to offer their choice. This was all in preparation for a psych hearing we wished to have in order to be permitted the possibility of a psych defense. In the federal system, a judge has to allow a psychiatric defense, you have no right to one.
At every possible instance, Kaplan had made his intense dislike of me evident. At our first motions hearing he referred to my having "looted HDC." Without any request from either defense of prosecution, he produced a definition of computer terms (there is a latin legal term for this type of document) that we would have to use in the case. His personally chosen terms and definitions were highly prejudicial to the defense. My lawyer, Henry Mazurek, told me he knew it was possible for judges to produce this type of document, but he had never heard of one doing it, let alone gratuitously.
After the second hearing on motions had gone horribly, I met Jerry at the courthouse cafeteria. His first words to me were, "What did you do to this guy?" I was flummoxed because those were going to be my exact words to Shargel. I explained to Jerry I had never met Kaplan and had no clue why he hated me so much. I asked Shargel whether he had had bad experiences with him - was this really about Shargel and I was merely the victim. He said his previous appearances had been fine and he was convinced that Kaplan had it out for me personally. But as to why, he did not know.
Shargel also explained around this time that should we go to trial and I were to testify (which I would have insisted upon), and we lost, there was no doubt in his mind that Kaplan would declare that I had perjured myself, regardless of how truthful I was on the stand. "I can testify, tell the absolute truth, and should we lose, he can unilaterally determine I had lied under oath?" I asked. Shargel said not only could he, he was convinced that Kaplan would and that this would add prison time.
Kaplan's reaction to a psych hearing and his statement that he rejected the idea I could have been bi-polar, nixed any hope of putting on a psych defense. It also told me that we should stop mentioning my mental state presently or during my time at HDC. We needed to avoid any mention of my mental issues as it always seemed to irk Kaplan greatly. Jerry, however, would mention my mental issues each and every time we were in court. Kaplan bristled visibly each and every time he did. I begged Jerry to stop doing it, he was hurting me, but he never would.
Jerry was awful in court. Kaplan cowed him something terrible. Henry wrote great paper for motions and submissions. But in court, Jerry wouldn't stand up to my judge and he wouldn't stand up to my prosecutor, Debbie Landis. It wasn't that Shargel isn't capable of confronting a judge on behalf of a client. He bragged all the time how often he had done it for the Gottis. He just was not willing to do it for me and possibly earn the wrath of a judge he'd have to appear before in the future for a client who would be paying him many multiples of $600,000. What possible hope would I have at trial under these circumstances.
This was the first reason for my decision of suicide. The second was simpler - I just didn't want to go to prison. It wasn't based on any fear of jail. At the time I still held the mythical belief that federal prison wasn't such a bad place. I just simply didn't feel like spending years in prison, after all the horrors of this prosecution, for something I didn't believe was criminal - HDC - and for possession of child porn that never existed in my home. I just didn't want to do this; I didn't see the point of having to endure it. I didn't have a death wish as such, I just rationalized that it was the smartest thing for me to do given the circumstances.
Since visiting Jerry in his office caused me to become physically ill, he agreed to meet me in a small park near his office. During our second, and last, meeting there, I told him of my decision. I don't know what I expected his reaction to be but I was nonetheless surprised, albeit grateful, by how he responded. He said he understood and was sorry it had come to this. I told him I wanted him to buy me as much time as possible. I had not set an exact date but I would do it shortly before the trial would start. I asked him if he could put off the date as long as possible, that would be the goal. He said he would try. He seemed very relieved at my decision. I think he had come to hate this case and wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. We shook hands and departed. I think it was our best meeting.
I had been seeing Dr. Collins 2-3x a week. He had tried a bunch of different anti-depressants, but no combination worked. I had one request as to anything he prescribed - I did not want any medication that had weight gain as a major side effect. By the Summer of 2003 he had me on a combination of three drugs including Lexapro and Desipramine. I was gaining an incredible amount of weight. Worse, if possible, was a side effect of these drugs that caused me to sweat profusely. I would exit the shower and sweat for two hours afterwards. I was constantly hot and sweating. Clearly not the type of sweating that would cause weight loss, however. I was depressed, fat and sweating. Not a pretty sight, I'm sure.
Once I decided suicide was the logical exit option I decided to keep that info from Collins. I had stopped trusting Collins in every way possible. His questions in our sessions centered not around my mental state but what were Jerry and I planning for a defense. He reveled in his role as court appointed shrink and it made me very wary of him. Collins already had a problem of spending most of any session talking about himself and his career. It really pissed me off for awhile that I was paying him $250/hr to hear about his career triumphs. But once I decided on suicide, I encouraged his self reflections as a way of deflecting any discussion of mine. {Google 'Allen Collins Lenox Hill,' if you want to read of the twisted sexual, legal and ethical troubles he would get himself into later}.
Since my indictment, as part of my bond, I had to report each week to Pre-trial Services. It's a division of the court that monitors defendants on bond. My Pre-trial officer was a decent kid named Jason. He was professional but never an asshole. I had no clue at the time how rare that was.
I would discover from others that it was highly unusual to report weekly. Murderers and narco-traffickers were routinely made to report bi-weekly or even monthly. It was another attempt by Debbie to overreach. That's fine, all federal prosecutors do. But it was also another sign to me of how little Jerry pushed back. Had he objected to these weekly visits, he might have succeeded in having them reduced. When I mentioned it, his response was the same as always: he was picking his battles and this wasn't worth the fight. I accepted this response over and over again because I was waiting for the big push-back to come. It never came.
Interestingly, he did push back on something I never requested; a Debbie demand that seemed to outrage him personally. Debbie had called him and said she wanted me to undergo pre-trial testing at a psych facility in Brooklyn. It was called The New York Center for Neuropsychology and Forensic Behavioral Science. Without consulting me, Jerry had asked around and discovered that NY Forensics was, in his words, a horror show.
He described it to me as an arm of the prosecution masquerading as a independent psychiatric facility. No one came away from testing without being labeled a pedophile, unless the government wanted otherwise. Moreover, he explained what testing entailed. Chiefly they employed a plethysmograph which is a penile sleeve that measures arousal to pictoral stimuli. Put simply, they put this sleeve on your penis and show you pics of young kids to see if you get hard. Jerry had never heard of this and for some reason it really set him off. He told Debbie there would be no way this was going to happen and he would see her in court if she pushed it. She never mentioned it again and Jerry took no lesson about Debbie's bark from the episode. Much to my regret. I would later meet many men who had been tested at NY Forensics and described it as the most psychologically traumatic experience of their lives. Many became suicidal from their sessions there.
Sadly, I would have my own personal experiences at Forensics later on and in many ways it would be far more damaging psychologically than prison ever was. The really scary aspect of Forensics is not the result - you become a psychological basketcase, although that's horrific. It was realizing that this was their treatment intent. The young women who worked there would scream and curse at the patients. Any attempt by a patient - and I use that term very loosely - to correct the narrative of their crime or explain that they didn't feel personally responsible for raping children by looking at pictures, was met with immediate tirades. I have never seen anything like it before or since. Psychologists, although some were just Ph.D. candidates, yelling and cursing like sailors at patients. If you haven't seen it, you can't really imagine it happening.
One of their doctors - and we all remember her tirades best - recently testified before the U.S. Sentencing Commission as an expert witness. My e-mail box was flooded with incredulous WTFs? Imagine Mengele testifying as an expert witness on inmate medical care. That is a good and appropriate reaction to Jennie McCarthy (yes, that's her name) testifying as a psych expert on sex offender treatment. Their goal at NY Forensics was to make you so mentally fucked up, so deeply depressed and suicidal, that you would not want to commit any future deviant sexual acts. I can tell you from first-hand knowledge, there is not a reputable doctor in America who believes this method of treatment has any positive effect on behavior. But prosecutors love it. Why else would government agencies in Connecticut have a contract with a psych facility in Brooklyn? NY Forensics has contracts with every government agency in the NY Tri-State area.
I started the South Beach diet shortly after moving in with my parents. I was getting bigger and bigger and had to do something. South Beach was all the rage that Summer. I adhered to its rules and it helped a little but nothing seemed to stop the weight gain or the sweating. I spent my days very bored, playing with Seabright or going to the movies at night in order not to see my brother. I managed to reduce my sessions with Dr. Collins and saw him only sporadically.
I still craved privacy and missed my apartment and its solitude. I finally decided to restructure how I would spend the next few weeks of my life. My parents had a country house in Columbia County. They would go there most weekends. I decided to function in reverse. Seabe and I would spend weekdays there and go back to NYC on the weekends when they would come up. I would return on Tuesdays for my Pre-trial appointment on Wednesdays and then return upstate immediately afterwards. This worked out very well. They respected my desire for privacy but couldn't help but take it personally that it seemed like I was fleeing whenever they were on their way. This new arrangement also helped me to decide how I would end my life.
Russell Harding
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