logo
Man whose parents were kidnapped after $245M Bitcoin theft has pleaded guilty to federal charges

Man whose parents were kidnapped after $245M Bitcoin theft has pleaded guilty to federal charges

Independent15 hours ago

A Connecticut man whose parents were kidnapped after he took part in a $245 million Bitcoin theft has pleaded guilty to fraud and money laundering conspiracy charges and has agreed to testify against his co-defendants, according to court documents that were unsealed this week.
Veer Chetal, 19, from Danbury, Connecticut, was one of three men charged with stealing 4,100 Bitcoins from a victim in Washington, D.C., in an elaborate online scam last August. The trio lived large after the heist, spending millions of dollars on cars, jewelry, rental mansions and nightclub parties, prosecutors say.
A week after the theft, Chetal's parents were assaulted and kidnapped briefly in Danbury in a failed ransom plot aimed at Chetal, who the attackers believed had a large amount of cryptocurrency, authorities said.
Chetal's criminal case was unsealed on Monday in federal court in Washington, revealing his guilty pleas in November and his agreement to cooperate with federal authorities investigating the Bitcoin theft. It also revealed new allegations that he was involved in about 50 similar thefts that raked in another $3 million between November 2023 and September 2024.
Another man charged in the Bitcoin theft, Malone Lam, was also among 13 people indicted by a federal grand jury in May in an alleged online racketeering conspiracy involving cryptocurrency thefts across the U.S. and overseas that netted more than $260 million, including the $245 million Bitcoin theft.
Chetal is facing 19 to 24 years in prison, a fine between $50,000 and $500,000 and restitution to the victim that has yet to be determined, according federal sentencing guidelines and his plea agreement.
His lawyer, David Weinstein, declined to comment, saying Chetal's case is still pending.
In September, federal agents with a search warrant raided Chetal's apartment in Brunswick, New Jersey, and his parents' home in Danbury in connection with the $245 million Bitcoin heist. Authorities said they found more than $500,000 in cash, expensive jewelry and watches and high-end clothing. Federal agents also said Chetal had $39 million worth of cryptocurrency that he turned over to investigators.
Authorities alleged Chetal, Lam and Jeandiel Serrano were involved in online 'social engineering' attacks against cryptocurrency holders. Lam would send victims alerts about unauthorized attempts to access their crypto accounts, while the others would call the victims posing as representatives from well-known companies like Google and Yahoo and gain access to their accounts, authorities said.
Messages seeking comment were left with lawyers for Lam and Serrano on Friday.
A week after the theft, six Florida men were accused of kidnapping Chetal's parents in broad daylight in Danbury. One of them crashed a car into the parents' Lamborghini, while others pulled up in a van, police said. The attackers forced the couple out of their vehicle, beat them, put them in the van and tied them up, police said.
The plot was foiled, and the attackers were arrested quickly because there were eyewitnesses who immediately called police, and an off-duty FBI agent happened to be driving by at the time of the kidnapping, authorities said. Federal agents said a seventh man who was later arrested in connection with the kidnapping had previously gotten into a dispute with Chetal that turned physical at a Miami nightclub.
The attack on the couple is part of an increasing trend worldwide in robbers using violence to steal cryptocurrency.
Chetal, who was attending Rutgers University in New Jersey at the time of the $245 million theft and later withdrew, was born in India and came to the U.S. with his family when he was 4 years old in 2010, according to court documents. His father was granted a foreign worker's visa, and his wife and children obtained related dependent visas.
Federal authorities said Chetal could face deportation as a result of the criminal case.
Authorities say Chetal's father lost his job at Morgan Stanley because of the kidnapping and his son's connection to it.
Chetal was initially released from federal custody on his own recognizance. But a judge ordered him detained until trial earlier this year after federal prosecutors said they discovered Chetal was involved in another crypto theft worth $2 million in October that he didn't tell them about, after he had begun cooperating with federal authorities.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

As Ice infiltrates LA, neighborhoods fall quiet: ‘We can't even go out for a walk'
As Ice infiltrates LA, neighborhoods fall quiet: ‘We can't even go out for a walk'

The Guardian

time37 minutes ago

  • The Guardian

As Ice infiltrates LA, neighborhoods fall quiet: ‘We can't even go out for a walk'

It has been eerily easy to find street parking in Los Angeles's fashion district this week. In the nearby flower district, longtime vendors have locked up stalls. And in East LA, popular taquerías have temporarily closed. Neighborhoods across LA and southern California have gone quiet since the Trump administration ramped up immigration raids in the region two weeks ago. The aggressive arrests by federal agents have ignited roaring protests which the administration tried to quell by mobilizing thousands of national guard troops. Last weekend, Americans protested the raids and other administration policies in one of the biggest ever single-day demonstrations in US history. But immigration enforcement in LA has only intensified. In downtown Los Angeles, Lindsay Toczylowski, the executive director of the Immigrant Defenders Law Center (ImmDef) was alerted on Wednesday morning that federal agents in masks and bulletproof vests had ambushed a man who was biking down the street, not far from her office, and had arrested him. She and a colleague rushed outside, to see if the agents were targeting anyone else. Later, they puzzled over how and why agents had decided to target this man. Did they have a warrant? Did they even know who he was? Or was it just that he looked like he could be an immigrant. 'It feels so invasive. They're everywhere,' she said. It was the type of arrest that has immigrants across the region weighing if, and when, it will be safe to go outside. In LA's Koreatown, a dense, immigrant neighborhood just west of downtown, children were playing at Seoul international park, but not as many as usual. Outside Jon's grocery, there were only a few street vendors who had set up shop – where normally there would be a dozen or more. Guillermo, 61, had come out, with his wife, to set up their small stall selling medications, vitamins and toiletries. 'To be honest, we're scared,' he said, nervously raking his fingers through his tightly coiled hair. They'd stayed home, stayed away, for days – but this week, they found out that their landlord would be increasing their rent by $400 starting next month. 'We need to make money.' Then again, he wondered if it was worth the risk to come out. There was hardly any foot traffic. No customers. 'They're all Latino,' he said, shaking his head. 'They're all scared to come out.' In normal times, Lorena would be selling tamales nearby – at least until about 5pm. Fifty years old, with with slick black hair, she could pass for quite a bit younger. She'd spend the afternoon chatting with the other vendors – the frutero down the block, and the woman who sells candies and nuts. Sometimes, she'd chat with the young unhoused men who camp out on the street and offer them some tamales. 'They've had some bad luck, some [have] taken some bad steps,' she said. She's known some of them since they were children – she used to sell tamales outside Hobart Elementary a few blocks away. She's been selling tamales in K-town for decades. The neighborhood has changed a lot since she first came here from Oaxaca, aged 20, she said. Still, most faces are familiar; she's been selling tamales to generations of people out here. In the evenings, she'd head home, get changed and head to the park for a walk. On summer days like these when her grandchildren are off school, she'd bring them to the playground, or maybe take them out to the movies, as a treat. 'Not this week,' she said. She has barely stepped outside her home in days. Neither has her husband, who normally works as a day laborer – soliciting short-term construction jobs outside of the nearby Home Depot. On the day agents flooded the megastore's parking lot, indiscriminately cuffing laborers and vendors, a friend of her son had warned them not to come out, she said. This week has felt a bit like the first few weeks of the pandemic, like the lockdown. 'Well, now this is worse than the pandemic,' she shrugged. 'Because we can't even go out for a walk.' She can't even put on a face mask and head to the grocery store – her kids, who have legal immigration status, have been going to the market and running errands for her and her husband. 'We're not really doing anything right now,' she said. It has meant that she hasn't been able to send as much money to her mother in Mexico, and to her brother, whose health has been deteriorating rapidly because of liver cancer. 'I know he's suffering. He's suffering a lot,' she said. She cried as she tried to explain to him and her mother why she cannot send home any money this month. 'It's so hard, it's so hard,' she said. She thinks about returning to work, but it's too risky. 'If they catch me, if they deport me, that's not going to help them, is it?' For now, Lorena and her husband are staying afloat thanks to a grant from Ktown for All, a non-profit that has been raising funds to help street vendors who fear arrest and deportation. 'At least the rent is covered,' she said. 'I am so thankful. There is nothing more to do than be grateful. And hope all this will pass soon.' ' The flower district – the largest wholesale flower market in the US – has emptied out as well. On Wednesday, vendors and customers alike locked up their stalls, and headed home, following rumors that raids were coming. In downtown LA's garment district, where the surge immigration enforcement began almost two weeks ago, tailor shops, which normally would be bustling with clients adjusting the fits on their graduation and quinceañera outfits, were generally quiet. At Fernando Tailorshop, which has been operating in the neighborhood for 54 years, owner Renato Cifuentes said he had never seen anything like the recent raids. 'I see this as a persecution of the Latino more than anything else,' he said. 'If you look like a Latino, the agents go after you – that's not right.' Most of his workers are afraid to come into the shop. His customers – citizens and immigrants alike – have been staying away as well. Business is down by more than 50%, he said. 'Most of my customers are Latin, and they are afraid. Some of my customers are Iranian – and they are worried about war,' he said, 'It hurts me a lot. Everything, everything is affected.' Meanwhile, families of those arrested in the first rush of raids earlier this month, including at clothing warehouses and wholesalers in the district, have been grappling with the aftermath. 'We had to change how we eat, how we sleep, how we live, everything,' said Yurien, whose father Mario Romero was arrested in a raid at Ambiance Apparel. 'We've had to change everything.' Two weeks ago, Romero had texted her, his eldest daughter, that agents had arrived at his workplace, and that he loved her. Yurien had rushed over, and watched as agents shackled her father, and shoved him into a van. Several other family members worked at Ambiance – and were arrested as well. Normally, on weekends,Romero would bring home a huge haul of Mexican candy, brew up a big batch of agua de jamaica, and pick a classic movie for the whole family to watch. But last weekend, Yurien spent hours refreshing her search in the Ice online detainee locator system, hoping it would tell her where her father had been taken. 'We went days without knowing, without any idea what had happened to him,' she said. Later, she learned that agents had kept them in a van for more than eight hours, without food or water, or access to a restroom. Then Ice transferred them to the Adelanto detention center, in California's high desert. Local Zapotec community organizers were able to help her find him – and more than a week after his arrest, Yurien was able to put funds into his commissary, so he could call her from the detention center. 'He sounded so sad, he was crying,' she said. Yurien hasn't really felt hungry since then. She had planned to matriculate at Los Angeles Trade-Technical college, but she deferred her plans so she could take over her father's responsibilities – including the care of her four-year-old brother, who has a disability that requires close monitoring and regular doctors visits. 'It's been so hard. I've always been a daddy's girl,' she said. 'But I can't really show my emotions, because I have to stay strong for my mom, for my siblings.' Lucero Garcia, 35, said she could relate. 'I'm so overwhelmed, I'm so stressed,' she said. 'I still wake up every day and act like nothing ever happened, because I feel like I'm the main person in our family that kind of keeps it together.' Nothing has been the same for her family since her 61-year-old uncle, Candido, was arrested while working at his job at Magnolia Car Wash in Orange county, just south of LA. It was one of more than two dozen car washes in the region that have been visited by immigration agents, according to the Clean Carwash Worker Center. Before her evening shift at work on Tuesday, Garcia put on her professional black trousers and white knit top, and drove more than 90 minutes north to the Adelanto detention center, and met with congress members who were seeking to meet with constituents who had been transferred there, to investigate reports of unsanitary and unsafe conditions inside. After local representatives confirmed that detainees had been denied clean clothes and underwear for days, she stood outside in the searing desert heat and shared some words about her uncle – who had lived with her family for years and has been like another father to her. 'This is just crazy,' she said. 'I've never talked to the press before, to give speeches like this.' She had to rush back home right after to wrap up errands, and head to work. Garcia has her green card, and her sister has citizenship – so the two of them have taken shifts running errands for their entire family – picking up groceries and prescriptions, getting kids to and from playdates and activities – so that those without documentation don't have to risk stepping outside. At home, the conversations have been heavy. Some of her family members are meeting with notaries to arrange paperwork, so that she can take custody of their children, should they get arrested or deported. 'I'm so glad it's summer vacation, that none of our kids are in school right now,' she said. 'At least we don't have to worry something will happen while they're at school.' Out in her neighborhood, restaurants sit half empty, and there's no more lines at the gas station. Inside her house, it's been oddly quiet, too. Most all of Garcia's family lives in Orange county – within 5 or 10 minutes from her – and most days a cousin or an uncle would swing by, unannounced, bringing a dish or even just ingredients to cook up. Garcia is famous for her beef birria and pozole. These days everyone is staying confined to their own homes. Last weekend, they nearly forgot it was father's day. 'The vibe is not there to be celebrating,' she said. 'And even with the smallest gathering, there's a risk to leaving the house.' And there's guilt. 'Like, how can you be having dinner when others are in detention without enough food? The guilt doesn't let you move forward.' The Guardian is not using the full names of some people in this article to protect them and their families.

Man loses 40% of his skin when he risks his life to save his beloved dog from house fire
Man loses 40% of his skin when he risks his life to save his beloved dog from house fire

Daily Mail​

timean hour ago

  • Daily Mail​

Man loses 40% of his skin when he risks his life to save his beloved dog from house fire

A Texas man burned off 40 per cent of his skin after rushing back into his burning home to save his pet after a motorcycle exploded inside. Zain Cano, 31, of San Antonio, risked his life to save his pet on May 22 when a fire erupted inside the duplex he lived in with his wife Jenna Carter while he was working inside on his motorcycle around 10pm. Cano managed to safely escape the apartment, only to realize his beloved dog Clarence was still inside so he ran into the flaming property. Cano wrote on Reddit: 'I had been working on my motorcycle and didn't secure the fuel line, the gas leaked on to the carpet and caught fire.' His wife Carter was not home at the time the fire broke out. When firefighters arrived, flames licked the property and they found Cano laying on the lawn, according to News 4 San Antonio. He was rushed to the hospital and the heroic feat left Cano with burns covering his body, and he required multiple surgeries, as was revealed in a GoFundMe fundraiser and on Facebook. Cano, who was released from the hospital on Wednesday, also underwent a skin graft on the right side of his body and had a blood transfusion. One of the grafts, which transferred skin from his calf to his foot, resulted in one of his tattoos being moved to a new location on his body. Photos of Cano in hospital, showed him completely unrecognizable with no hair and white bandages covering every part of his body - a far cry from the dark-haired, mustached man he was before the incident. The blaze meant that Cano, who did not have health insurance, Carter, and Clarence were homeless as the dog owner faced a lengthy and painful road to recovery. Cano added: 'I feel horrible because my family is now homeless because of my mistake. We're staying at a motel for the time being, but it's expensive and I can't work and probably won't be able to for at least another month or more.' Carter's caring for Cano as he needs assistance changing his bandages, and while bathing or using the toilet. His wife said on the charity page: 'He's had a hard road so far and a long one ahead of him in terms of healing. 'He's going to need multiple weeks of continuous medical care and help from me (he has to use a walker and cannot use his hands), and we desperately need a stable environment for him to heal in.' The couple's hoping to purchase a camper van to minimize their expenses, but they worry it might not be practical for Cano, who's 'having trouble getting around'. Cano wrote online: 'We have to change my bandages daily and we're concerned about keeping things clean enough so I don't get an infection. 'Unfortunately, we already spent what little savings we had and I won't be able to work for a while.' The couple started the fundraiser as a way to request help with medical bills, permanent housing, and upcoming expenses. Cano posted on Facebook: 'So now time is of the essence and I'm humbly and embarrassingly asking for help again.'

‘There is no option of surrender': can Zohran Mamdani cause the greatest progressive upset in New York politics?
‘There is no option of surrender': can Zohran Mamdani cause the greatest progressive upset in New York politics?

The Guardian

time2 hours ago

  • The Guardian

‘There is no option of surrender': can Zohran Mamdani cause the greatest progressive upset in New York politics?

Zohran Kwame Mamdani is huddling with advisers surrounded by agitated protesters, New York police department (NYPD) officers and lines of metal barriers penning us in. An hour ago Brad Lander, the elected comptroller of New York who is running against Mamdani in the race to become the city's next mayor, was arrested by masked agents of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice) as he accompanied an individual out of immigration court. Video shows the agents shoving Lander against a wall, handcuffing him, and scuffling him away. The incident has clearly rattled Mamdani. He looks tense, and when greeted by supporters his trademark beaming smile is replaced by a tight grin. Days earlier Mamdani cross-endorsed with fellow progressive Lander ahead of Tuesday's Democratic primary, which makes this personal. 'This is horrifying,' he says. Behind us looms the brutalist tower of the Federal Building, its tombstone-grey granite and glass exterior wrapped in fine mist. It is a setting out of a dystopian Gotham City. 'No peace, no justice,' the protesters chant. 'Ice out of the court, Ice out of the city.' 'This is an authoritarian regime that has dispatched masked men in unmarked cars to detain and disappear as many immigrants as they can find, and anyone standing in their way,' Mamdani says. 'Ice agents attempted to rough up Comptroller Lander and make an example of him – if that's what they are willing to do to an elected official, what will they do to an unknown immigrant?' There is a potent family link too. 'That's the very court I took my father to a few months ago for his citizenship interview,' he explains. 'I hugged him tightly, not knowing if I would see him at the end or if he too would be detained, as so many immigrants have been. I waited in a coffee shop for four and a half hours hoping he would come downstairs, and he did.' It is not impossible, given the state of the race, that in three days' time Mamdani, until recently a virtual unknown, will prevail in the primary ballot and take a giant leap towards becoming the next occupant of Gracie Mansion. Should he go on to win the general election in November, he would be propelled onto the front lines of the battle to protect New Yorkers from Donald Trump's mass deportations and other legally-dubious incursions. Could he handle it? 'I do believe that I could. I will unabashedly stand up for our sanctuary city policies which have kept New Yorkers safe, and use every tool at the city's disposal to protect our immigrants.' And then he adds: 'There is no option of surrender.' That Mamdani should be a serious contender for the leadership of America's largest city is both a sign of the times and of his individual capabilities. Polls show him within striking distance of the frontrunner Andrew Cuomo in what is now essentially a two-horse race, with Lander trailing a distant third. Mamdani came to the US aged seven from Uganda where he was born to parents of Indian descent. His father is a political scientist Mahmood Mamdani, and his mother, Mira Nair, is the Oscar-nominated director of Salaam Bombay! and Monsoon Wedding. He is a democratic socialist endorsed by Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. He has been outspoken on the Gaza war, which he views as a genocide, and is unrestrained in his criticism of Trump, whom he calls an authoritarian. He denounced Lander's arrest as 'fascism'. He is equally scathing about the establishment of the Democratic party, which he tells me has 'betrayed' the people of New York. And yet here he is, an unashamed progressive Muslim immigrant, snapping at the heels of the ultimate Democratic machine politician, the thrice-elected former governor of New York, Cuomo. The outcome of the ranked-choice vote could illuminate so much more than the future of New York, important though that is. There's age. Mamdani, if elected, would become at 33 the youngest mayor in a century; Cuomo, 67, would be its oldest in a first term. Could this election deliver a blow to what Ocasio-Cortez has called the 'gerontocracy' of American politics? There's Trump. Lander's arrest could be just the start – only a day before the comptroller was apprehended, the president announced he was prioritizing deportations from New York and other Democratic-run cities, putting whoever wins the mayoral race in the line of fire. And there's the Democratic party itself. Mamdani calls the election a referendum on the future of the party – and given the parlous state in which it currently finds itself, trapped in the headlights of a president who appears hell-bent on destroying American democracy as we know it, he may not be wrong. This is gearing up to be a seismic clash at a turning point for the country. No wonder Mamdani looks tense. Our interview was not meant to be like this. The plan was for us to meet in Mamdani's campaign office near Madison Square Park, but the shock of the Lander arrest sends him scrambling down to Federal Plaza, the Guardian in hot pursuit. It's a bit like a game of cat and mouse. We follow the candidate as he moves away from Federal Building, and takes off with his posse of campaign managers to find a quiet place to talk. He says we'll regroup at a sandwich bar nearby then abruptly changes the location, but amid the confusion he's always impeccably polite. 'Thank you for your understanding,' he says to me. We finally get to sit down in a Le Pain Quotidien around the corner from where Lander is being detained. Mamdani asks if I mind that he eats while we talk – it's mid-afternoon by now and it's his first meal of the day. When I express sympathy, he gives a maudlin smile and says: 'I chose this.' We begin by discussing his explosive rise, from a barely known member of the state assembly representing Queens into a political phenomenon. The previous Saturday, at a rally at Terminal 5, a music venue in Hell's Kitchen, Mamdani was introduced by Ocasio-Cortez, who likened how he has burst onto the scene to her own unlikely eruption as Bronx bartender turned congresswoman in 2018. Did Mamdani expect to be where he is now when he launched his run last October? From the start he believed in the possibility of his campaign, he says, but did not expect his numbers to surge until the end. 'Instead we've been firmly in second place for the last few months, and we've narrowed a 40-point gap with Cuomo down to single digits despite Republican billionaires spending close to $20m in attack ads against me.' That Mamdani has caught the imagination of young New Yorkers is self-evident at the Saturday night rally. The venue is packed with over 3,000 supporters, most in their 20s and 30s, waving placards saying 'A City We Can Afford'. Comedian the Kid Mero hosts, a marching band performs Empire State of Mind, and the DJ plays hope and change-themed tracks (the rally closes with Bob Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changin'). It all has the razzmatazz of a premature victory party. Mamdani commands the stage, displaying an ease with TikTokable soundbites and a beguiling charisma which are essential qualifications for high office these days. He echoes the lyrical rhetoric of Barack Obama: when he wins on 24 June, he orates, 'it will feel like the dawn of a new day, and when the sun finally climbs above the horizon that light will seem brighter than ever'. A key to his success among young voters – and in turn, the amassing of a vast army of 46,000 volunteers who have knocked on more than a million doors – has been his savvy use of social media. He has posted a stream of viral videos, shot on gritty New York streets, infused with the humor and pace that he first honed during his younger years when he was an aspiring rapper going by the name of Mr Cardamom. To publicise his plan to freeze the rents of all rent-stabilised apartments, Mamdani posted a TikTok video in which he dives fully clothed into the frigid waters off Coney Island. It was titled: 'I'm freezing … your rent.' When Cuomo entered the mayoral race, Mamdani filmed in front of Trump Tower to visually connect the two men as bullies accused of sexual misconduct – Trump was found liable for sexual abuse, Cuomo was forced to resign as governor in 2021 following reports that he sexually harassed female staff, which he denies. Such grabby stuff has spawned a whole cluster of fan-based Instagram groups. Among them: Hot Girls for Zohran and, not to be outdone, Hot Boys for Zohran. Fun this may be. But it's also serious politics. It's earned him the adoration of countless young voters at a time when social media is increasingly critical to winning elections – just ask Trump who, with his 106 million X followers and his Truth Social platform, literally owns political social media, leaving most Democratic leaders languishing in the wilderness. 'New Yorkers of all ages are engaging with the world around them through their phones,' Mamdani says. 'One reason we've been able to get so many to engage with us is that they've heard about our politics in places they typically would not.' He calls his social media strategy the 'politics of no translation'. What is that? 'It's when you speak directly to the crises that people are facing, with no intermediaries in between. We need a politics that is direct, that speaks to people's own lives. If I tell you that I'm going to freeze your rent, you know exactly what I mean.' Mamdani puts his spectacular popularity with young New Yorkers down to a hunger for a 'new kind of politics, one that puts working people at the heart of it and showcases a new generation of leadership'. There's maybe something else also at play: he has a magnetism that just seems to draw people towards him. The young waiter who takes his order of grilled chicken salad appears starstruck, and after we finish talking the waiter comes back to the table and engages Mamdani in intense conversation. The candidate obliges, despite his frantic schedule that will see him dashing between boroughs late into the night. I get flashes of that magnetism as we sit at our table. Like any politician, Mamdani has his talking points, but he drops his guard when I ask him what he remembers about arriving in New York as a kid. He leans towards me, and his face opens, and he seems transported. 'I remember going to Tower Records around 66th Street or so, and browsing all the different CDS, then stepping outside and buying my first bootleg copy of Eiffel 65, the euro pop group with the song Blue (Da Ba Dee). I remember playing soccer in Riverside Park, I remember falling in love with chess.' Reverie over, Mamdani the mayoral candidate is back, shoveling down food in between espousing political strategy. And this is when we get down to it, and the real challenge he faces. Because his appeal to young New Yorkers is not enough to win. To defeat Cuomo on Tuesday he has to reach beyond young voters. He has to get to the older African Americans and Hispanics in the outer boroughs who dependably turn out to vote, and thus often decide the outcome of New York Democratic primaries. Polls suggest that such voters are still favouring Cuomo as a safe pair of hands, though there has been a recent uptick among older Latinos. Mamdani is candid about how hard this has been. 'It was very difficult for us to get into these spaces to make our case,' he admits. 'Especially as we began with 1% name recognition. But things are shifting, now we're finding that we are double-booked for churches on a Sunday morning.' Paradoxically, the outer borough communities that he has to convert are home to the very same voters with whom Trump made astonishing inroads last November. It's the guilty secret of New York, which is so proud of its status as a liberal bastion: Trump enjoyed his biggest swing of any state in the country here – about 11.5% – and increased his vote by double digits in both the Bronx and Queens. 'It wasn't just the scale of the swing,' Mamdani says. 'It was that it took place far from the caricature of Trump voters, and into the heart of immigrant New York.' After Trump's victory, Mamdani had to turn the political impulse of lecturing into listening went on a listening tour to the outer boroughs. 'I went to Fordham Road in the Bronx and Hillside Avenue in Queens, and asked these New Yorkers, most of whom are Democrats, who they voted for and why. I learned that many did not vote, and many voted for Trump, and they did so because they remembered having more money in their pocket four years ago.' The plea he heard over and over again was for an economic agenda that would make people's tough lives easier. 'And that is how we have run this race,' he says. That's where his affordability ticket kicks in. Rents will be frozen in rent-stabilised apartments that house 2 million New Yorkers, two-thirds of whom are people of colour. Childcare will be provided at no cost, the minimum wage will be raised, city-run groceries will be opened offering cheaper healthy food, buses will be made fast and free. To pay for all that, taxes will be raised for corporations and for the top 1% of earners with incomes above $1m. When I ask him to imagine how he imagines New York would look after he had been in Gracie Mansion for two terms, he replies: 'It is a city that is more affordable, that works better, and where we have restored public excellence into public service.' Mamdani's affordability manifesto is a conscious blueprint for reconnecting working-class Americans, of all races, back to the Democratic party in the fight against Trump. It's also a damning indictment of where he believes the Democratic leadership has gone wrong. He goes so far as to use that word 'betrayal'. 'New Yorkers have been betrayed by the politics of our city,' he says. As evidence he points to Trump's deportations. We're still sitting in Le Pain Quotidien, Mamdani's salad now half-eaten and his tie off, and we are both painfully, though unspokenly, aware that Lander remains in custody as we speak (he was released a few hours later without charge). Up to 400,000 New Yorkers are at risk of Trump's deportations, he says, yet under the current Democratic mayor, Eric Adams, whose corruption charges were dropped by Trump in what was widely seen as a quid pro quo, the city has assisted fewer than 200 people facing imminent removal. Mamdani pledges that under his leadership, the city would provide legal representation for all immigrants in detention proceedings. That would boost their chances of going home to their families some elevenfold. His critique of the Democratic party doesn't end there. For him, Cuomo is the epitome of where the established party has gone off the rails. 'I believe we lost the presidential election because we had left the working class behind a long time ago. They were told time and time again that their leaders would fight for them, and those leaders, like Andrew Cuomo, sold them out.' He's in his flow now, his arms flapping in grand gestures of the sort that his staff have worked hard to get him to tone down. There's animation in his portrayal of Cuomo, containing a hefty dose of venom, and even disgust. 'We are considering electing a former governor who resigned in disgrace, one who cut Medicaid, stole hundreds of millions of dollars from the MTA [which runs the subway], hounded the more than a dozen women who credibly accused him of sexual harassment even suing them for their gynecological records. It begs the question: what high ground do we have in the Democratic party when we critique Donald Trump?' Towards the end of his Terminal 5 rally speech, Mamdani warned his supporters to expect a barrage of negative attack ads from Cuomo and his billionaire backers in the closing stage of the race. But it's not just the barrage of TV ads that are attacking Zohran. The most withering criticism has come from the New York Times editorial board, which went so far as to opine that he didn't deserve a spot on the ballot. Mamdani swats that one away with the curt remark: 'These are the opinions of about a dozen New Yorkers. They're entitled to them.' The paper described his proposals as unrealistic. That's paradoxical, he says. Working-class Americans are losing faith in the Democratic party, yet anyone who comes up with policies that address their daily struggles is castigated for being pie in the sky. 'If you want to fight for working people priced out of their own city, then you are told you are out of touch.' The Anti-Defamation League, the Holocaust Museum, and several Jewish leaders have also blast out to scorch him in the final stretch. Shortly after we meet, a podcast is posted by the Bulwark in which Mamdani was asked whether he felt uncomfortable about the use by some pro-Palestinians of the phrase 'globalize the intifada', which has been condemned by some Jews as a call to violence. He would not denounce the expression, saying it spoke to 'a desperate desire for equality and equal rights in standing up for Palestinian human rights'. The comment led to rapid backlash from some Jewish groups. That was just the latest in a pattern in which, stepping outside a campaign tightly focused on affordability, he has been prepared to speak out about the highly contentious issue of the Middle East. He has decried the humanitarian disaster in Gaza, and championed the cause of Mahmoud Khalil, the pro-Palestinian student activist at Columbia University who was released on Friday after more than three months detention on the orders of a federal judge. Given the nature of his economically-focused campaign, wouldn't it have been expedient to skirt around the issue of Gaza? . 'I have always been honest,' he says. 'I am honest because I believe it is incumbent upon us to have a new kind of politics, consistent with international law, and I believe there are far more New Yorkers looking for that consistency than one would imagine.' Mamdani has clearly been riled by the attacks made on him, which he calls Islamophobic. 'I have been smeared and slandered in clear racist language,' he says, pointing to mailers from a Cuomo-supporting super PAC which altered his face to be darker and his beard to be thicker (the super PAC denied any intentional manipulation). In the days after our interview, the NYPD's Hate Crimes Task Force announced they are investigating threats made against Mamdani, by an unidentified man who said he was a 'terrorist' who is 'not welcome in America'. None of this is new for him. He's had to deal with Islamophobia since 9/11, when he was nine and had been living in the city for just two years. He was spared the worst of the anti-Muslim fallout of the attacks, he says, partly thanks to a kind teacher who pulled him aside and told him to let her know if he was ever bullied. But 9/11 left its mark. 'Living in the shadows of that moment, it politicized my identity. It forced a nine-year-old boy to see himself the way the world was seeing him.' That young boy is now three days away from a vote in which he seeks to become the first Muslim mayor of New York City. As he finishes up his salad and downs a cup of hot water with honey and lemon, before rushing off to his next engagement, he looks a strange mix of bone tired and fired-up for the battle ahead.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store