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Cuomo's campaign finance missteps pile up

Cuomo's campaign finance missteps pile up

Politico08-05-2025

NEW YORK — Andrew Cumo's mayoral campaign made a glaring error as aides rushed to report his fundraisers last month: They mixed up a documentarian who bundled checks for the frontrunner with a nursing home fraudster of the same name.
The error came as Cuomo's team was making good on regulatory requirements that reporters had noted he dodged.
In their haste Kevin Breslin, a nursing home operator who earlier this year pleaded guilty to Medicare and tax fraud, was reported as somebody who collected five contributions totaling $2,270 for Cuomo's campaign. But it was actually a documentarian and the son of famed reporter Jimmy Breslin who had gathered the checks.
'I support Andrew. He's a family friend forever!' the unconvicted Breslin said in an interview. 'I don't know about any nursing homes.'
It was a minor error, but any nursing home reference creates a wince factor for Cuomo, who has been criticized for his requirement that they not turn away Covid-positive patients when he was governor during the outset of the pandemic. The order has dogged him on the campaign trail, even as rivals have failed to dent his polling lead.
The episode is just the latest instance of how the Cuomo campaign — built on the premise of his competence during a time of crisis — has bumbled its way through the city's highly regulated public financing system. Cuomo was denied public matching funds in April after failing to follow the city's instructions on collecting information from donors. His team's end-around manner of communicating with a super PAC elicited a warning from regulators. The campaign failed to report all its bundlers as required by law, only doing so after the problem made headlines and blaming the delay on intermediaries failing to fill out forms.
And when they belatedly shared the information, the wrong Kevin Breslin wasn't the only mistake. Cuomo's campaign reported that Geoff Berman, whom President Donald Trump appointed as U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York in 2018, had helped Cuomo raise money from another Geoff Berman who served as the former executive director of the New York Democratic Party under Cuomo.
Both Geoff Bermans did donate to Cuomo, and the Republican Berman — now a litigator at Fried Frank — even gave a max-out $2,100. But one Berman did not help the other. Cuomo campaign spokesperson Rich Azzopardi attributed that to a clerical error, and suggested that Berman and Breslin did not look closely enough at an intermediary form they signed.
Breslin admitted as much; Berman did not respond to a request for comment.
Taken together, the missteps underscore Cuomo's unfamiliarity with a decades-old system that provides candidates with public funds for qualifying contributions. The system essentially bankrolls campaigns: Zohran Mamdani, running a distant second to Cuomo, has received his max-out match of nearly $6.7 million already.
The highly regulated system is new for Cuomo, who has only run state-level races with far higher donation limits and comparatively lax campaign finance enforcement. Until now, Cuomo has never sought public matching funds and has typically relied on a batch of wealthy donors to fund prior races. Donation limits at the state level during Cuomo's Albany tenure topped $60,000.
Zellnor Myrie, a four-term state senator running far behind Cuomo in his own bid for mayor, boasted of a much smoother transition from the Albany system to the city's.
'Andrew Cuomo has said that New Yorkers should give him a chance, because he has been a competent leader, yet he has at each juncture of this campaign, failed to do the basic things that are necessary to uphold the law,' Myrie said at a press conference Tuesday, in response to Cuomo's issues with the Campaign Finance Board.
Azzopardi chalked it all up to a few minor errors.
'The gulf between the insiders and the New Yorkers who are actually going to decide this race, an overwhelming number of whom want Andrew Cuomo to be mayor because they know he will fix what's broken and put this city back on the track, has never been wider,' he said in a statement. 'This is a 66 day old campaign that has already raised more than $2.5 million and these are two mundane clerical errors that are already being amended. My understanding is that none of this is especially unusual with this system.'
He declined to comment on whether the campaign expects to receive public matching funds at the board's meeting next week — though he had expressed confidence last week to the New York Post that the campaign would get the payout.
Meanwhile emails released through a Freedom of Information Law request reveal the board warned the Cuomo campaign on March 10 that its online fundraising page wasn't compliant with strict regulations for matching funds, after the campaign had already been collecting cash for 10 days.
The page 'is missing the legally required affirmation statement' delineated in written guidance, the Campaign Finance Board's deputy director of candidate services told Rachael Harding, Cuomo's campaign compliance attorney.
The campaign switched to the city's fundraising system by March 12, but it was too late — they had already collected hundreds of donations that could not get matched unless each donor filled out an additional form.
The campaign also had trouble verifying the addresses of donors who gave online, prompting dozens of emails from the campaign to the board as it tried to troubleshoot, as first reported by the New York Post.
Realizing the errors meant the campaign might not get the $2.5 million in public matching funds, the campaign scrambled, emailing donors asking for help — but it was too late. In a standard review of the campaign's fundraising filing, the board rendered ineligible 997 of the 1823 donors Cuomo's campaign was seeking public matching funds for. The 55 percent error rate was enough to drop the campaign below the threshold to qualify.
Even after that, messages show the Cuomo campaign tried to convince the board to stretch the rules and pay up anyway.
The board declined to grant a request from Cuomo's attorneys for a multi-million dollar payout just days after the denial if they could prove they fixed the issues. The board told the campaign it would need to submit all the documentation in the process of the official review, 'as is the process for every campaign.'
The emails also show the Cuomo campaign beset by smaller issues. Famed fashion designer Kenneth Cole, Cuomo's brother-in-law, accidentally mailed a check meant for the Cuomo campaign directly to the campaign finance board. The board sent back the check, and emailed the campaign a heads up.
The check didn't make it in time to be included in the filing, which only included donations received through March 13. But Cole still helped out. The campaign reported that he bundled $750 in donations from investors Jacob and Eric Ruttenberg.

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ICE is using no-bid contracts, boosting big firms, to get more detention beds
ICE is using no-bid contracts, boosting big firms, to get more detention beds

Associated Press

time15 minutes ago

  • Associated Press

ICE is using no-bid contracts, boosting big firms, to get more detention beds

LEAVENWORTH, Kan. (AP) — Leavenworth, Kansas, occupies a mythic space in American crime, its name alone evoking a short hand for serving hard time. The federal penitentiary housed gangsters Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly — in a building so storied that it inspired the term 'the big house.' Now Kansas' oldest city could soon be detaining far less famous people, migrants swept up in President Donald Trump's promise of mass deportations of those living in the U.S. illegally. The federal government has signed a deal with the private prison firm CoreCivic Corp. to reopen a 1,033-bed prison in Leavenworth as part of a surge of contracts U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has issued without seeking competitive bids. ICE has cited a 'compelling urgency' for thousands more detention beds, and its efforts have sent profit estimates soaring for politically connected private companies, including CoreCivic, based in the Nashville, Tennessee, area and another giant firm, the Geo Group Inc., headquartered in southern Florida. That push faces resistance. Leavenworth filed a lawsuit against CoreCivic after it tried to reopen without city officials signing off on the deal, quoting a federal judge's past description of the now-shuttered prison as 'a hell hole.' The case in Leavenworth serves as another test of the limits of the Republican president's unusually aggressive tactics to force migrant removals. To get more detention beds, the Trump administration has modified dozens of existing agreements with contractors and used no-bid contracts. One pays $73 million to a company led by former federal immigration officials for 'immigration enforcement support teams' to handle administrative tasks, such as helping coordinate removals, triaging complaints or telling ICE if someone is a risk to community safety. Just last week , Geo Group announced that ICE modified a contract for an existing detention center in southeastern Georgia so that the company could reopen an idle prison on adjacent land to hold 1,868 migrants — and earn $66 million in annual revenue. 'Never in our 42-year company history have we had so much activity and demand for our services as we are seeing right now,' said CoreCivic CEO Damon Hininger during an earnings call last month with shareholders. A tax-cutting and budget reconciliation measure approved last month by the House includes $45 billion over four years for immigrant detention, a threefold spending increase. The Senate is now considering that legislation. Declaring an emergency to expedite contracts When Trump started his second term in January, CoreCivic and Geo had around 20 idle facilities, partly because of sentencing reforms that reduced prison populations. But the Trump administration wants to more than double the existing 41,000 beds for detaining migrants to at least 100,000 beds and — if private prison executives' predictions are accurate — possibly to more than 150,000. ICE declared a national emergency on the U.S. border with Mexico as part of its justification for authorizing nine five-year contracts for a combined 10,312 beds without 'Full and Open Competition.' Only three of the nine potential facilities were listed in ICE's document: Leavenworth, a 2,560-bed CoreCivic-owned facility in California City, California, and an 1,800-bed Geo-owned prison in Baldwin, Michigan. The agreement for the Leavenworth facility hasn't been released, nor have documents for the other two sites. CoreCivic and Geo Group officials said last month on earnings calls that ICE used what are known as letter contracts, meant to speed things up when time is critical. Charles Tiefer, a contract expert and professor emeritus of law at the University of Baltimore Law School, said letter contracts normally are reserved for minor matters, not the big changes he sees ICE making to previous agreements. 'I think that a letter contract is a pathetic way to make big important contracts,' he said. A Kansas prison town becomes a priority CoreCivic's Leavenworth facility quickly became a priority for ICE and the company because of its central location. Leavenworth, with 37,000 residents, is only 10 miles (16 kilometers) to the west of the Kansas City International Airport. The facility would hold men and women and is within ICE's area of operations for Chicago, 420 miles (676 kilometers) to the northeast. 'That would mean that people targeted in the Chicago area and in Illinois would end up going to this facility down in Kansas,' said Jesse Franzblau, a senior policy analyst for the National Immigrant Justice Center. Prisons have long been an important part of Leavenworth's economy, employing hundreds of workers to guard prisoners held in two military facilities, the nation's first federal penitentiary, a Kansas correctional facility and a county jail within 6 miles (10 kilometers) of city hall. Resistance from Trump country The Leavenworth area's politics might have been expected to help CoreCivic. Trump carried its county by more than 20 percentage points in each of his three campaigns for president. But skeptical city officials argue that CoreCivic needs a special use permit to reopen its facility. CoreCivic disagrees, saying that it doesn't because it never abandoned the facility and that the permitting process would take too long. Leavenworth sued the company to force it to get one, and a state-court judge last week issued an order requiring it. An attorney for the city, Joe Hatley, said the legal fight indicates how much ill will CoreCivic generated when it held criminal suspects there for trials in federal court for the U.S. Marshals Service. In late 2021, CoreCivic stopped housing pretrial detainees in its Leavenworth facility after then-President Joe Biden, a Democrat, called on the U.S. Department of Justice to curb the use of private prisons. In the months before the closure, the American Civil Liberties Union and federal public defenders detailed stabbings, suicides, a homicide and inmate rights violations in a letter to the White House. CoreCivic responded at the time that the claims were 'false and defamatory.' Vacancies among correctional officers were as high as 23%, according to a Department of Justice report from 2017. 'It was just mayhem,' recalled William Rogers, who worked as a guard at the CoreCivic facility in Leavenworth from 2016 through 2020. He said repeated assaults sent him to the emergency room three times, including once after a blow to the head that required 14 staples. The critics have included a federal judge When Leavenworth sued CoreCivic, it opened its lawsuit with a quote from U.S. District Court Judge Julie Robinson — an appointee of President George W. Bush, a Republican — who said of the prison: 'The only way I could describe it frankly, what's going on at CoreCivic right now is it's an absolute hell hole.' The city's lawsuit described detainees locked in showers as punishment. It said that sheets and towels from the facility clogged up the wastewater system and that CoreCivic impeded the city police force's ability to investigate sexual assaults and other violent crimes. The facility had no inmates when CoreCivic gave reporters a tour earlier this year, and it looked scrubbed top to bottom and the smell of disinfectant hung in the air. One unit for inmates had a painting on one wall featuring a covered wagon. During the tour, when asked about the allegations of past problems, Misty Mackey, a longtime CoreCivic employee who was tapped to serve as warden there, apologized for past employees' experiences and said the company officials 'do our best to make sure that we learn from different situations.' ICE moves quickly across the CoreCivic's Leavenworth prison, other once-shuttered facilities could come online near major immigrant population centers, from New York to Los Angeles, to help Trump fulfill his deportation plans. ICE wants to reopen existing facilities because it's faster than building new ones, said Marcela Hernandez, the organizing director for the Detention Watch Network, which has organized nationwide protests against ICE detention. Counties often lease out jail space for immigrant detention, but ICE said some jurisdictions have passed ordinances barring that. ICE has used contract modifications to reopen shuttered lockups like the 1,000-bed Delaney Hall Facility in Newark, New Jersey, and a 2,500-bed facility in Dilley, Texas, offering no explanations why new, competitively bid contracts weren't sought. The Newark facility, with its own history of problems, resumed intakes May 1, and disorder broke out at the facility Thursday night. Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, a Democrat who previously was arrested there and accused of trespassing, cited reports of a possible uprising, and the Department of Homeland Security confirmed four escapes. The contract modification for Dilley, which was built to hold families and resumed operations in March, calls its units 'neighborhoods' and gives them names like Brown Bear and Blue Butterfly. The financial details for the Newark and Dilley contract modifications are blacked out in online copies, as they for more than 50 other agreements ICE has signed since Trump took office. ICE didn't respond to a request for comment. From idle prisons to a 'gold rush' Private prison executives are forecasting hundreds of millions of dollars in new ICE profits. Since Trump's reelection in November, CoreCivic's stock has risen in price by 56% and Geo's by 73%. 'It's the gold rush,' Michael A. Hallett, a professor of criminal justice at the University of North Florida who studies private prisons. 'All of a sudden, demand is spiraling. And when you're the only provider that can meet demand, you can pretty much set your terms.' Geo's former lobbyist Pam Bondi is now the U.S. attorney general. It anticipates that all of its idle prisons will be activated this year, its executive chairman, George Zoley, told shareholders. 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When CoreCivic announced its letter contracts, Joe Gomes, of the financial services firm Noble Capital Markets, responded with, 'Great news.' 'Are you hiding any more of them on us?' he asked. ___ Hanna reported from Topeka, Kan. Associated Press writers Joshua Goodman in Miami and Morgan Lee, in Santa Fe, N.M., contributed reporting.

Act of GENIUS or Blockheaded Bill? Congress Considers Stablecoins
Act of GENIUS or Blockheaded Bill? Congress Considers Stablecoins

Yahoo

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  • Yahoo

Act of GENIUS or Blockheaded Bill? Congress Considers Stablecoins

The US Senate voted last week to advance the Guiding and Establishing National Innovation for US Stablecoins Act which, because D.C. lawmakers of all stripes love cringe acronyms, stands for the GENIUS Act. The purported stroke of brilliance would lay out the first-ever regulatory framework for stablecoins, or digital tokens pegged to the value of the dollar. It has found both Republican and Democratic support and opposition. Those who see genius in GENIUS say it takes a commonsense approach to balancing innovation and regulation. Those who think it's a blockheaded approach to blockchain have ideologically diverse critiques, which we'll get to. A final vote has been scheduled for tomorrow. READ ALSO: Can Blue Origin Fill NASA's SpaceX Void? and BlackRock's Virtual Investment Analyst 'Asimov' Ushers in AI Era on Wall Street The GENIUS Act, if passed, would let banks and private companies approved by federal regulators issue their own stablecoins. Those issuers would be required to back their stablecoins at all times with a 1:1 reserve of a stable asset, either cash or short-term Treasurys. They'd also be subject to some anti-money laundering laws and be required to adhere to US sanctions on foreign entities. The idea behind using the specified assets is implied in the term stablecoin: It means the tokens are more stable than most digital coins, which can exhibit dramatic price swings. Take, for example, 2022 — when Bitcoin had a high of $46,000 in March and a low of around $16,000 in December. The bill and its safeguards have managed to win the support of almost all the Republicans and 18 Democrats in the Senate. And, The Wall Street Journal reported Friday, the issue has generated enough excitement that both Amazon and Walmart are entertaining issuing their own stablecoins, a move that would allow them to sidestep billions of fees involved in cash and card transactions that involve the traditional financial system. But there are holdouts in the Senate, and their opposition comes from wildly different places: First, there's Republican Senator Rand Paul of Kentucky. It's no surprise that the libertarian-leaning lawmaker is leaning 'against' the bill because he's not convinced of the need for federal regulation of stablecoins at all. Then there's his GOP colleague Josh Hawley of Missouri, a Silicon Valley skeptic who has called for the breakup of Big Tech companies. He has warned that the bill would let tech behemoths issue stablecoins that compete with the dollar and use them to collect inordinate amounts of data on people. Democratic Senator Elizabeth Warren, an expert in bankruptcy and commercial law, supports 'a strong stablecoin bill' but says the GENIUS Act is not that, arguing it could trigger 'the next financial meltdown' because it 'folds stablecoins directly into the traditional financial system while applying weaker safeguards than banks or investment companies must adhere to.' Warren noted that, in the past, some stablecoins have failed to maintain their pegs: The 2022 crypto crash, which led to Bitcoin's fall that year, was caused by the collapse of Terraform Labs' Terra/Luna 'algorithmic' stablecoin, which cost investors $42 billion. One 2023 study that analyzed 60 stablecoins found every single one of them had de-pegged from its underlying asset at least once. A Bond Boon? ARK Invest argued, in a report earlier this month, that a turbocharged stablecoin would be good for the Federal Reserve by encouraging companies to become more active in holding US Treasurys. That, the investment firm said, could help offset the sharp decline in foreign holdings of US debt in recent years, which has accelerated amid the tariff pressures created by the Trump administration. This post first appeared on The Daily Upside. To receive delivering razor sharp analysis and perspective on all things finance, economics, and markets, subscribe to our free The Daily Upside newsletter.

A member of RFK Jr.'s MAHA movement and a public health expert met on Zoom. Here's what happened next.
A member of RFK Jr.'s MAHA movement and a public health expert met on Zoom. Here's what happened next.

Boston Globe

time33 minutes ago

  • Boston Globe

A member of RFK Jr.'s MAHA movement and a public health expert met on Zoom. Here's what happened next.

The conversations are the brainchild of Brinda Adhikari, a journalist and former television producer who grew increasingly concerned about Americans' mistrust of institutions after Donald Trump's reelection. 'These are two groups that talk a lot about each other,' said Adhikari, who has worked for ABC News and the podcast 'The Problem with Jon Stewart.' 'I just don't see a lot of spaces where they talk to each other or with each other.' The conversations are captured on Adhikari's weekly podcast, ' Advertisement Despite the high stakes, the goal wasn't to change anyone's mind, said Adhikari, who lives in Brooklyn. She hoped both sides would discover shared concerns and better understand their opponents' perspectives. Those common worries included the risks of corporate influence in science and medicine, the possible harms Medicaid cuts could cause, and the safety of Americans' food. 'I didn't expect the areas of agreement would be so obvious that we would actually find spaces to work together almost immediately,' said Megan Ranney, dean of the Yale School of Public Health, who participated in the conversations. Advertisement Though 'We really came into this feeling ostracized,' said Elizabeth Frost, a panelist who led Kennedy's Ohio presidential campaign operation. 'What really surprised me is a lot of people in public health feel the same way.' The two groups, five MAHA representatives and the same number of public health experts, met twice in May. A third conversation involved a few of the same panelists, plus MAHA representatives from Georgia. Some meetings took on the tenor of estranged family members working to heal rifts. MAHA is grounded in a deep skepticism of establishment medicine. Many gravitated toward the movement after feeling let down by doctors they had trusted. Public health experts derive their knowledge from establishment medicine: They rely on hard-won data and the scientific method for their conclusions. One side feels ignored or dismissed. The other is frustrated and dismayed by how little sway scientific evidence and expertise hold with some MAHA adherents. Advertisement 'Scientists try their best to be open-minded, and ... we push and test each other to make sure that we're coming up with new ideas and using the best methods possible and getting as close to truth as we can,' Ranney said during the podcast. She then asked Frost, 'What would help folks to feel like science was being done with and for them?' 'There was a lot of outrage for having any questions about the way that the COVID pandemic was handled,' Frost responded. 'People on the MAHA side of it felt very demonized and very othered, that they weren't allowed to be a part of the conversation.' The MAHA movement coalesced around Kennedy's presidential campaign last year, though it adopted its name only after he suspended his campaign for president and endorsedTrump and his Make American Great Again movement. MAHA emphasizes personal choice in health, with a focus on addressing chronic illness, food quality, and distrust of the pharmaceutical industry. It also is associated with opposing longstanding, and well-proven, public health cornerstones, including the importance of widespread vaccination and water fluoridation to improve dental health. It's proven to have surprising appeal to members of both political parties, drawing liberals, MAGA Republicans, and independents, said Frost. As a result, members' beliefs are highly heterodox. Antivax sentiments are far from uniform, and dissatisfaction with overall policies in the Trump administration isn't unusual. Mark Harris, another Ohio MAHA leader, described himself as an independent thinker. He disapproves of proposed deep cuts to Medicaid and was among the first in his friend group to recognize how serious COVID would be. He did take the COVID-19 vaccine, he said. Advertisement 'I do believe in herd immunity,' he said in an interview. 'I believe in vaccines being very helpful in achieving that.' He emphasized during one of the podcasts, though, that the word vaccine implies permanent protection against an illness, and seems like a misnomer when applied to the COVID shots. COVID shots reliably offer long-term protection against serious illness and death but don't keep the virus entirely at bay over more than a few months. 'I completely agree with you,' said Paul Offit, one of the nation's most prominent vaccine experts and a member of the Food and Drug Administration's Vaccine Advisory Committee. 'Very early we should have made that very clear what the vaccine can and can't do.' The two sides also generally agree on why so many Americans have lost faith in the medical establishment. Access is expensive and difficult. Insurance coverage can appear arbitrary and confusing. Interactions with physicians are often through overcrowded emergency departments or with harried primary care physicians with barely the time to spend 10 minutes with a patient. Public health officials are not often visible, trusted figures in a community until an emergency arrives, leaving them with limited credibility, noted Craig Spencer, associate professor of the practice of health services, policy and practice at Brown University. Many public health officials wish scientific evidence spoke for itself, particularly when it comes to the power of vaccines. Polio is virtually unheard of in the United States. Measles was eliminated in this country before lower vaccination rates allowed it to resurface. The absence of these illnesses makes it hard for people who didn't live before widespread inoculation to fully believe in the value of vaccines, Spencer said, and data alone can't compete with a powerful messenger. Advertisement People like Kennedy have stepped in to fill that communication gap. Many of his ideas aren't supported by science, Spencer said, but his ability to command an audience is enviable. 'They've done such an incredible job just being out there,' he said of MAHA leaders and influencers. 'Even if they're saying some things, a lot of things that I wouldn't agree with, they're out there and that is instilling trust." During the podcast, Frost described how angry she was that people with COVID had been denied ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine. Offit responded with a layman's explanation of the evidence that the drugs aren't effective against the virus and, in the case of hydroxychloroquine, may do harm. Yet in the interview Frost didn't sound especially convinced, saying she gives the most weight to what her physician recommends. That wasn't evidence of the podcast's failure, Adhikari said. 'That you're going to sit down with someone whom you've never met and act as though you could say something to them within a two hour conversation that will completely change something that is a deep-rooted value for them, it's just not reasonable,' she said. 'What I am trying to do is to build the bridge, to trust each other enough to even be at the same table.' Jason Laughlin can be reached at

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