The Wizard of Lies: Bernie Madoff and the Death of Trust Read Online Free PDF Page B

evening’s party will collide and conflict, shift and shatter.
    One person recalls that Madoff surprised the staff by holding the party a week earlier than usual. But it is being held the same week, almost on the same date, as last year’s—and not even Bernie could commandeer a popular restaurant on short notice during the holidays.
    Some say Madoff never says a word tonight, just huddles silently with Ruth at a corner of the bar and avoids the crowd. Others say he has “a look of death on his face,” with “that thousand-yard stare,” and seems stunned, very tense, “out of it.” But Squillari remembers the Madoffs as their normal selves, “as if they didn’t have a care in the world.” Two other guests and longtime friends agree, except they say Madoff seems maybe a little more emotional, hugging and kissing family members and friends a little more than usual. Ruth chats with a few employees, too, going awkwardly through the familiar party rituals. But it must be a strain—after a half hour or so, she is ready to leave. Madoff recalls that they stay on “for a couple of hours.”
    Everyone recalls “a taco station, a guacamole station, a buffet bar, and waiters walking around with frozen pomegranate margaritas, two of which could put a person out for the night”—and one of which could put clear, orderly memories of this ephemeral evening out of reach forever.
    Besides the food and drinks, there is one other thing everyone agrees on: Andrew and Mark Madoff are expected to attend the party, and neither ever arrives.
    As he and his wife head home, Bernie Madoff clearly does not expect events to spin out of his control as quickly as they will. His sons had ample time that afternoon to turn him in, yet no one has shown up at the office or the apartment to arrest him. No one has called to demand he come in for questioning. He feels confident that he still has several days to settle matters before he turns himself in.
    T HURSDAY, D ECEMBER 11, 2008
    At about 7:30 on this rainy morning, FBI special agent Ted Cacioppi and his partner, B. J. Kang, drive up to Madoff’s apartment building at the corner of East Sixty-fourth Street and Lexington Avenue. Cacioppi, a powerfully built young man with close-cropped brown hair, has been up since 4:00 AM , discussing the delicate nature of this assignment with his superiors, federal prosecutors, and SEC attorneys.
    There is no indictment. There is no hard evidence of a fraud—just the say-so of Madoff’s two sons. A precipitous arrest could derail the investigation. But if the FBI delays making an arrest, Madoff might flee, perhaps taking whatever money is left. Finally, it is decided that the FBI agents will pay a visit and politely ask if Madoff has anything to say about his sons’ story.
    Leaving two other agents in the car, Cacioppi and Kang show their badges to the doorman and take the elevator to the penthouse, as the startled doorman calls ahead.
    Madoff had been about to get dressed for work in his spacious closet on the floor below the duplex penthouse’s entrance. Alerted by the doorman, he climbs upstairs and opens the apartment door, wearing a light blue bathrobe over his pajamas. The agents step into the apartment’s entry hall, with its glowing carriage lamp and towering grandfather clock. Ruth, jolted by the doorman’s call, throws on some jeans and a polo shirt and joins them in the foyer.
    Madoff is surprised, but he tells them, “I know why you’re here.”
    Cacioppi says, “We’re here to find out if there’s an innocent explanation.”
    “There is no innocent explanation,” Madoff answers.
    Cacioppi asks if there is somewhere they can sit down and talk. Madoff leads the two agents to his study, where he gathered his wife and sons less than twenty-four hours earlier. He takes a chair and invites the agents to sit on the leather sofa across from him. Agent Kang silently takes notes as Cacioppi poses questions and Madoff answers them.
    Speaking