Mchael Grimm’s pugnacious career in government service ended with a whimper on Monday
night, with an after-hours statement announcing his resignation from
Congress. It had been a week since Grimm, the Republican congressman
from Staten Island, pleaded guilty to one charge in a twenty-count
federal indictment for tax fraud and perjury. Outside the courthouse
that day, he declared that he had no plans to step down. It was easy to
imagine that Grimm would keep his word, if only because of the sheer
volume of allegations that the congressman had already beaten
back—including those recounted here in 2011, in which Grimm, while
serving as an F.B.I. agent, was alleged to have pulled his gun in a Queen’s night club and instigated a racially charged incident (acts that he denied).
But
step down he did, bringing an end to a congressional tenure consisting
of equal parts bluster and farce. Grimm will probably be best remembered
for hison-camera threat to
throw a NY1 television reporter off of the Capitol Rotunda balcony
after he’d dared to ask a question about the Justice Department
investigation into Grimm’s fundraising. And no collection of Grimm’s
greatest hits can leave out the interview in
which he recited almost verbatim a speech from “A Few Good Men” as if
it were his own. The Grimmest of Grimm moments occurred, however, during
his 2012 campaign, when he publicly insinuated that political forces
arrayed against him had broken into his office to gain access to
computer files. The break-in turned out to be the work of a troubled
teen-ager. The computers, police concluded, hadn’t been touched.
Grimm previously worked as an undercover F.B.I. agent, and he cited that fact repeatedly on the campaign trail—at one point drawing a rebuke from the bureau. In November, he won reëlection in the shadow of his federal indictment and a potential trial. While some Democrats accused him of shamefully holding his guilty plea until after Election Day, he may have done his constituents a favor by saving them from an opponent so inept that he earned more mockery than even the congressman himself. (“In Domenic Recchia, the Democrats have fielded a candidate so dumb, ill-informed, evasive and inarticulate that voting for a thuggish Republican who could wind up in a prison jumpsuit starts to make rational sense,” the Daily News observed in one of the most comically underwhelming endorsements ever published.) Now each party will have a new chance to field a less-bad-than-the-other-guy candidate in a special election.
Grimm previously worked as an undercover F.B.I. agent, and he cited that fact repeatedly on the campaign trail—at one point drawing a rebuke from the bureau. In November, he won reëlection in the shadow of his federal indictment and a potential trial. While some Democrats accused him of shamefully holding his guilty plea until after Election Day, he may have done his constituents a favor by saving them from an opponent so inept that he earned more mockery than even the congressman himself. (“In Domenic Recchia, the Democrats have fielded a candidate so dumb, ill-informed, evasive and inarticulate that voting for a thuggish Republican who could wind up in a prison jumpsuit starts to make rational sense,” the Daily News observed in one of the most comically underwhelming endorsements ever published.) Now each party will have a new chance to field a less-bad-than-the-other-guy candidate in a special election.
Ultimately,
though, Grimm’s plea and resignation will prove unsatisfying to anyone
but political partisans. He has admitted to paying undocumented workers
under the table as the owner of a Manhattan restaurant called
Healthalicious, filing false tax returns to profit from it, and then
lying about all of it to investigators. These are not trivialities, but
the public will likely never obtain answers to more serious questions
around Grimm’s conduct as an elected representative. In 2012, the Times reported extensively on
hundreds of thousands of dollars Grimm raised from the followers of the
New York City rabbi Yoshiyahu Yosef Pinto, detailing allegations that
Grimm advised contributors on how to exceed legal limits and that he
collected donations in envelopes full of cash. (Pinto, in an absurdly
complicated investigation spanning New York and Israel, later reportedly accused Grimm
of blackmailing him.) By 2014, a federal investigation was underway,
and one of Grimm’s campaign contributors (and former girlfriend), Diana
Durand, was soon under indictment for using straw donors to exceed
contribution limits. The U.S. Attorney’s office had assigned Assistant
U.S. Attorney Todd Kaminsky, known for his success in public-corruption
prosecutions, to Grimm’s investigation. But Kaminsky left the case in
May to run for state assembly, Durand pleaded guilty without implicating
Grimm, and no campaign-finance charges were ever brought against the
congressman.
Federal
prosecutors were left with the Healthalicious tax fraud,
which, depending on one’s political affiliation, came off as either
Capone-like in its catch-them-for-what-you-can- prove approach or evidence of the “political witch hunt” Grimm had invoked against the allegations all along.
Grimm
has long made a habit of leaving such problematic connections in his
wake, and then chalking up any accusations of impropriety to conspiracy.
I first became interested in him while investigating one of his F.B.I.
informants, a scam artist named Josef von Habsburg who
helped lure a lawyer into a dubious sting operation. “I am an F.B.I.
agent, I took an oath,” the then aspiring congressman railed at me when I
asked him questions about his F.B.I. past, including the night-club
incident. “You’re trying to do a chop job on me.” When I asked him why
he left the F.B.I. when he did, just after having helped build a large
and successful case against fraud on Wall Street, he said, “I was really
at the top of my career. If I was gonna leave, leave at the top.”
Later, theTimes reported on Grimm’s
post-F.B.I. business ties to a convicted fraudster and former F.B.I.
agent in Texas, along with the campaign-finance questions and the
allegations that Grimm’s partner in Healthalicious had connections to
the Gambino crime family. “This attack is politically motivated,” Grimm
responded.
Federal
prosecutors have not made clear whether any of their investigations
remain open. One former Assistant U.S. Attorney with whom I spoke—who
did not have direct knowledge of the case—found it unlikely that Grimm
would have taken any plea deal that didn’t include at least tacit
agreement from prosecutors to no longer pursue such charges.
Grimm
now faces a federal prison sentence of up to thirty-six months. Whether
he ends up alongside the convicts he once took great pride in cornering
will be left to U.S. District Court Judge Pamela Chen. What we do know
is that Michael Grimm is a man who betrayed the laws he once made such a
show of upholding.
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