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Fears of ICE Raids Turn Streets Quiet in Heavily Hispanic Part of NYC

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Fears of ICE Raids Turn Streets Quiet in Heavily Hispanic Part of NYC

The taco joint just around the corner from Corona Plaza, the beating heart of one of New York City’s largest Latin American neighborhoods, fell quiet in the days after President Trump was inaugurated.

The restaurant’s Mexican waitress, who is undocumented, witnessed federal immigration authorities arrest someone a few blocks from the plaza, and now limits her time outside, afraid that being on the street leaves her more vulnerable to immigration agents. She dwells on the incident as she stares at empty tables once packed with immigrant families and construction workers.

Across the street, sales have plummeted at a Colombian bakery. The shop used to take in about $1,600 most mornings selling soups and pastries, but now makes about $900. Workers at the bakery scour WhatsApp groups for news of immigration raids in the neighborhood, even as the messaging app swirls with misinformation.

And at the Guatemalan restaurant at the edge of the plaza, fewer customers are dining in, with sales declining by about half. But takeout orders have picked up.

“Everyone calls for food now,” Linda Hernandez, 44, said as she served a baked tamal to one of four customers in the 20-seat restaurant in early February, next to a sign warning people not to open their doors to immigration authorities. “No one wants to sit down to eat.”

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From New York to California, Mr. Trump’s campaign to arrest and deport millions of undocumented immigrants has spread fear and consternation, instantly subduing once-lively neighborhoods across the United States.

The administration began with a media blitz, publicizing raids in big cities and deportation flights to Latin America. The showmanship was supported by some early numbers that showed an increase in immigration arrests, even as the authorities appear to be struggling to round up enough people to meet Mr. Trump’s mass deportation goals. The shock-and-awe tactic, however, has profoundly rattled immigrant communities.

Few neighborhoods in New York were paralyzed like Corona, a working-class enclave that is about 75 percent Hispanic, home to generations of immigrants from Mexico, Colombia, Ecuador, the Dominican Republic and elsewhere.

But Corona was also one of the neighborhoods that swung most sharply toward Mr. Trump in last year’s election. Mr. Trump’s inroads, in Corona and elsewhere, exposed simmering tension between established immigrants and more recent arrivals who crossed the border during an era of more lenient Democratic policies.

Immigration, legal and otherwise, has long shaped this stretch of northern Queens. Waves of migration transformed Corona from an Italian stronghold at the turn of the 20th century into a magnet for African American families after World War II, and then a bustling hub for Central and South Americans in recent decades.

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That diversity has been most palpable in Corona Plaza, once a forlorn lot. The city paved it into a modest pedestrian plaza that quickly pulsated with life as vendors moved in to sell chorizos and cafe de olla, filling the air with a mix of Spanish dialects. Nearby, on Roosevelt Avenue, the aroma of Colombian coffee melded with the scent of lomo saltado from Peru, the blaring rhythms of cumbia and reggaeton and the roar of the elevated No. 7 train.

Many residents here crowd into cheap apartments with strangers. Most work the service jobs that form the backbone of the city’s economy: cleaning, cooking, building.

Many are undocumented.

So it was perhaps no surprise that the once-bustling plaza, and the streets around it, cleared out the day Mr. Trump was inaugurated. Immigrants stayed indoors. Food vendors retreated. And many people continued to stay off the streets as U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents fanned out across the city a week later, an absence that hurt local businesses.

The combination of deportation fears, frigid temperatures and a recent police crackdown on illegal vending all helped mute the neighborhood — and created an eerily familiar scene in what was once the epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic. The virus killed hundreds in Corona and hobbled the area’s economic recovery.

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“It reminds me of Covid, but this is new,” said Fernando Cando, 48, who moved to Queens from Ecuador with his family in 1982, when he was a young boy. “If I were to sum it up with one word, it’s panic. We’ve never seen this.”

Mr. Cando owns Leticias, an Ecuadorean restaurant with dishes based on his mother’s recipes. He said he recently began brushing up on his workers’ rights in case ICE shows up at the restaurant. He has instructed the workers not to run from agents, and has wondered whether they could take refuge in the restaurant’s basement. Despite the fear, his workers continue to show up, even if diners aren’t always there with the same frequency.

ICE sightings — whether real, imagined or distorted on social media and text threads — dominate conversations. Some parents have stopped sending their children to school. And some families are talking about moving back to their home countries: the “self-deportation” that the Trump administration is actively encouraging.

Liliana Sanchez, who migrated from Mexico two decades ago, said she spotted ICE officers almost daily in the neighborhood after Mr. Trump took office, usually knocking on people’s doors. The sightings have been less frequent recently. But her two children, who are U.S. citizens, still call her after school to make sure she has not been detained in Corona Plaza while selling atole, a hot masa-based Mexican drink.

“They’re afraid for me every time I come sell,” Ms. Sanchez, 38, said in Spanish. “But if I stay home, who’s going to bring home the money for rent?”

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Immigration lawyers are being inundated with calls from immigrants seeking answers to basic questions: Can they go to work, seek care at hospitals and call the police to report a crime without being deported?

“The phones are ringing off the hook,” said Anibal Romero, an immigration lawyer whose office overlooking Corona Plaza has received as many as 700 calls a day since Mr. Trump’s inauguration, up from just under 100 a day. “We’ve frankly become an emergency room for mental health.”

Even so, the heightened anxiety, described by nearly two dozen Corona residents in interviews with The New York Times, belies a complicated reality.

In New York City, and across the country, Mr. Trump made significant gains in many working-class immigrant neighborhoods like Corona. He captured 46 percent of the national Latino vote on his way to victory and bucked conventional wisdom about Hispanics’ support of the Democratic Party.

Kamala Harris still won Corona with about 57 percent of the vote, but underperformed compared with Joseph R. Biden Jr. in 2020, who won the area with 77 percent of the vote. Mr. Trump garnered about 3,000 more votes in Corona in 2024 than in 2020, winning entire precincts and nearly doubling his vote share to 42 percent, up from 23 percent four years before.

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Mr. Trump won over Hispanics who were upset about the economy, but also tapped into resentment among established immigrants over what they regarded as preferential treatment — including temporary legal status, work permits and free shelter — given to migrants who arrived during the Biden administration.

In New York City, that pent-up frustration led to intense friction amid a three-year influx of 230,000 migrants who spilled into Corona and other neighborhoods. Longtime residents — even undocumented immigrants who can’t vote — raised quality-of-life concerns that many attributed to the recent arrivals.

Business owners in Corona Plaza complained about an increase in homelessness and street vendors without licenses in recent years. Local officials and residents lamented excessive trash and flashes of violence among intoxicated men who they said created visible disorder that scared off customers. And a prostitution problem long plaguing parts of Roosevelt Avenue grew worse.

That all led Mayor Eric Adams, a Democrat, to deploy more police officers to the area and crack down on brothels and illegal vending last year, leading to a noticeable decline in both.

For some Corona residents, it was too little, too late.

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Altagracia Fernandez, from the Dominican Republic, said the deteriorating conditions had nearly caused her to shutter the beauty salon she opened 35 years ago. Things got so bad, she said, that hosing down human excrement outside her shop became a regular morning chore.

“I always voted Democratic, but I couldn’t take it anymore,” said Ms. Fernandez, 63, who voted for Mr. Trump. “The situation got too severe. I’m fighting for what is mine,” she said, referring to her salon.

Pastor Victor Tiburcio, the spiritual leader of Aliento de Vida, a Pentecostal church on Corona Plaza with more than 2,500 congregants from 30 countries, has been grappling with those contradictions since Mr. Trump’s election.

On a recent Sunday, Mr. Tiburcio leaned on a message of hope. He urged worried churchgoers to be mindful of misinformation and not to fear calling 911 or going to the hospital.

“Don’t abstain from doing what you have to do out of fear for ICE,” he said in a crowded theater-turned-church, a glimmer of the vibrancy that has not been fully extinguished in the neighborhood. “Finding God is an SOS during these times.”

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In an interview after the service, Mr. Tiburcio, who migrated from the Dominican Republic 27 years ago, reflected on what he said was the silver lining of Mr. Trump’s crackdown. Almost overnight, he said, the president’s tough talk had scared off unruly migrants whom the pastor blamed for “fetid” conditions in Corona and for tarnishing the working-class values that defined immigrants.

“Those people that arrived here in the past few years — and I can’t say all of them, because I’m an immigrant, too — but we noticed something weird,” said Mr. Tiburcio, referring to instances of loitering and public drinking.

“Once Trump came in, they disappeared,” he continued. “Immigrants should be welcomed, helped. The Bible says that. But the Bible does not say that an immigrant has a right to delinquency.”

Other immigrants, though uneasy about the high-profile crimes committed by some recent arrivals, were more wary of stoking rifts between recent immigrants and those who have been here longer.

“It’s not resentment,” said Faviana Linares, who migrated from Mexico nearly three decades ago. “You have to be very brave to leave everything behind and bring your family here. I admire those people.”

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Ms. Linares, 47, left everything behind when she departed Puebla — so many people have migrated from the Mexican region that New York has become known as “Puebla York” — and settled in Corona. She has made a living cleaning apartments, initially for well below the minimum wage, while her husband works at restaurants. They are both undocumented, but their three children are U.S. citizens.

Like many mixed-status families, they have made emergency plans in case the parents are deported: Their 24-year-old daughter would become the guardian of the two other children.

Despite the ever-present possibility that the family will be separated — Ms. Linares has cousins who were deported — she said she has concentrated on transmitting hope to her children and neighbors amid the doom-and-gloom headlines.

Recently, that has meant channeling her energy into the immigrant advocacy group she belongs to, Make the Road New York, which opened a new office across from Corona Plaza in February, just as the neighborhood fell quiet.

“Our only crime was to cross that border,” Ms. Linares said. “It’s not fair to feel persecuted. All we came to do was to work with dignity.”

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Alex Lemonides and Keith Collins contributed reporting.

Audio produced by Patricia Sulbarán.

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Trump’s Immigration Crackdown Pervades Long Island Suburbs

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Trump’s Immigration Crackdown Pervades Long Island Suburbs

The sun poked above the horizon one bright March morning in the sprawling suburbs of Long Island. A fleet of federal vehicles began their daily search for immigrants.

They were followed, as usual, by Osman Canales, the roving neighborhood watch leader who has 100,000 Facebook followers and an entourage of secret lookouts. With one hand on the wheel of his black Jeep Grand Cherokee and another gripping a bullhorn, he telegraphed a warning:

“ICE is here!” Mr. Canales shouted in Spanish. “Stay home!”

President Trump’s immigration crackdown has played out most graphically in big cities run by Democrats, where aggressive tactics by federal agents have dominated headlines and fanned partisan debate. But in those cities, immigrant arrest rates have been erratic, spiking and plummeting.

The rhythm of detentions has been more steady in car-dependent places like Long Island, where agents have the advantage of stealth and where immigrants live far from the eye of news cameras. Just east of New York City’s jampacked boroughs, the arrest rates since last August have been consistently higher than in the city and the Hudson Valley.

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The detention rate on Long Island has been about 60 percent higher than in the city and Hudson Valley since Mr. Trump took office. The rate remains slightly lower than in the rest of the country.

The expansive roads of Long Island have been fertile terrain for agents to capture migrants without the scrutiny that has often accompanied officials’ actions in big cities. Residents must drive for miles to get to work or to go grocery shopping, allowing officers to detain them during traffic stops beyond the critical eye of observers.

“It’s harder to say something when you’re in your car driving in a suburban area,” said Serena Martin, an immigration advocate and the executive director of New Hour for Women and Children, an organization that helps mothers, women and children whose lives have been affected by incarceration. “It’s not that people care any less. We just aren’t on the street walking in the way that people in urban areas have the ability to do to quickly mobilize, to take the photos, to take the video.”

On Long Island, Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents arrested about 12 people a day in early March, compared with about one a day in 2024. Nationwide, ICE agents were making more than 1,000 arrests per day in early March, compared with about 300 a day in 2024.

Deep-blue cities such as Chicago, Minneapolis and New York have vowed not to work with ICE, and protesters there have foiled large immigration operations by leaping quickly into action in substantial numbers. Federal agents in Manhattan have sometimes struggled to carry out arrests. Activists have chased them during a street raid, barricaded a garage where they were parked and staged a protest at a hotel where they were staying.

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The pace of immigration arrests in the New York City area has remained at an elevated level since last summer — a contrast to the operations in Chicago and Minneapolis, where arrests skyrocketed for a month or two and then calmed down.

Arrests in Illinois fell from about 70 a day in October 2025 to about 10 a day at the beginning of March. In Minnesota, they fell from more than 80 a day in January to just about three a day. At the same time, arrests in the New York City area went from about 30 a day in January to about 28 a day in early March.

The Department of Homeland Security declined to discuss operations, but officials suggested that cities choosing to cooperate with ICE have less crime.

“Partnerships with law enforcement are critical to having the resources we need to arrest criminal illegal aliens across the country,” D.H.S. said in a statement. “We have had tremendous success when local law enforcement work with us.”

In Nassau County, the Long Island county closer to New York City, federal agents are aided by a partnership between local police and the Trump administration that empowers law enforcement officers to assist in enforcing immigration laws and transfer people into ICE custody. The agreement is known as Section 287(g) of the U.S. Immigration and Nationality Act. And Nassau County isn’t alone.

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A growing number of 287(g) agreements have been adopted across the country since Mr. Trump returned to office. In January 2025, 133 state and local agencies had agreements, according to a study by the American Civil Liberties Union. Since then, ICE has announced agreements with at least 1,000 agencies.

Bruce Blakeman, the Nassau County executive who is the Republican nominee for New York governor and an ally of Mr. Trump’s, has vowed to fight a proposal by Gov. Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, to ban officers from working with ICE through 287(g) agreements. Mr. Blakeman has passed several policies to help federal agents, including the deployment of local detectives to assist with deportations.

“Because of the county’s cooperation with ICE, we have removed over 2,000 illegal migrants with criminal records ranging from attempted murder, to rape, to car jacking and drug dealing,” said Chris Boyle, a spokesman for Mr. Blakeman. “It is a safer county.”

ICE agents have turned Nassau County’s fire stations into rest stops, pulling into parking lots to take a break from patrolling. Sandra Valencia, who runs a youth leadership program on Long Island through Rural & Migrant Ministry, an advocacy group, said that agents park outside schools after classes are released, frightening parents.

“Children of Republican parents have intimidated our kids,” Ms. Valencia said in Spanish. “They showed up to school with American flags.”

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Latinos on Long Island have accused ICE of discrimination. In a lawsuit filed April 8, five residents of Latino descent said that agents unlawfully stopped and arrested them based solely on their race and ethnicity, with no regard for their immigration status, in violation of federal laws and regulations. The agency did not respond to an inquiry about the litigation.

Long Islanders have made plans in the event of their own arrest, asking family members to take care of relatives or property left behind. One woman who is living in the country illegally and spoke on the condition of anonymity because she feared reprisal said that in June, she decided to pack a bag with blankets, mittens, hats and a sleep sack for her 1-year-old baby in case they wound up in a frigid detention center.

Teenagers said they have felt shocked to see families unravel around them. Some said they worried that losing a parent or a sibling would risk their academic pursuits or deplete their family’s income.

Fernanda Mejia, 16, is the daughter of a bagel store worker who was detained in June while agents were searching for another person. In a tearful plea to the Republican-controlled Nassau County Legislature in July, she said that she was heartbroken to lose her father and urged the governing body to stop helping ICE arrest migrants like him. She said her father had no history of criminal behavior, and The New York Times found no evidence of a criminal background.

“My name is Fernanda Mejia,” she said, her voice trembling as she approached the lectern while wearing a ruffled skirt and a pink bow in her hair. “My dad was taken by ICE.”

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Howard J. Kopel, the presiding officer, cut her off, drawing protests from audience members who demanded to hear more. When Fernanda finished speaking, Mr. Kopel was terse.

“I wish you good luck,” Mr. Kopel said. “I hope it works out. All right, next.”

Mr. Kopel declined an interview request through a spokeswoman.

Fernanda’s father had been deported to El Salvador. In her messy bedroom, piled with stuffed animals, makeup brushes and Polaroids, she keeps the gifts he sent from detention — a bracelet that he spooled together with broken rosaries and a necklace made out of beads shaped from bread.

Many adults around Fernanda barely go outside. Some depend on Facebook posts from Mr. Canales, the neighborhood watch leader.

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On that bright March morning, Mr. Canales drove for hours before he found out agents had quietly arrested someone. He stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant, where the owner thanked him with a free torta and lamented a lack of customers.

Defeated, Mr. Canales finished eating, climbed back into his Jeep and braced for the next day.

Sheelagh McNeill contributed research.

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N.Y.P.D. Narcotics Unit Under Review After a Beating Is Caught on Tape

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N.Y.P.D. Narcotics Unit Under Review After a Beating Is Caught on Tape

The New York Police Department said on Tuesday that it was launching a three-month review of its narcotics division after two of its detectives were recorded brutally beating a man they had mistakenly arrested during a drug sweep last week.

As part of the review, the Police Department said it had disbanded the team responsible for the drug sweep, a small group within its narcotics unit in Brooklyn. That team was shut down on Friday, and its members have all been reassigned or placed on desk duty, the department said.

The overhaul of the division was announced a week after videos showing two narcotics detectives punching, kicking and dragging a man across the floor of a Brooklyn liquor store spread online.

The videos show the two detectives beating the man, a security guard named Timothy Brown, as they struggle to wrestle him into handcuffs for nearly eight minutes. The department said the arrest had been part of an undercover operation in the area and that the detectives had believed Mr. Brown to be involved in a drug deal. After beating and arresting Mr. Brown, the police determined that they had targeted the wrong man and that Mr. Brown had not been involved in the drug sale.

The police charged Mr. Brown with resisting arrest and obstructing governmental administration, but the Brooklyn District attorney’s office said it would decline to prosecute the case.

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The footage, and news of the mistaken arrest, prompted immediate backlash from New York lawmakers, civil libertarians and police critics, some of whom described the behavior as extrajudicial punishment. Mayor Zohran Mamdani, who has been careful not to anger the city’s police force, last week condemned the conduct in his strongest words of criticism since taking office. “The violence used by N.Y.P.D. officers in this video is extremely disturbing and unacceptable,” Mr. Mamdani wrote in a post on social media on Wednesday.

The Police Department moved quickly to discipline the two men in the video, Volkan Maden and Michael P. Algerio, both of whom have served with the N.Y.P.D. for more than a decade. On Wednesday, Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch called the videos “deeply disturbing” and said that both detectives had been placed under investigation and stripped of their guns and shields.

In the following days, the department removed the sergeant who oversaw Detectives Maden and Algerio from his post and placed him on modified duty. By Friday, six more detectives on the team, as well as the lieutenant and captain who oversaw the entire North Brooklyn narcotics operation, had all been reassigned.

In interviews last week, several lawmakers praised Ms. Tisch and Mr. Mamdani for taking swift disciplinary action against what they called a shocking display of police brutality.

“This video looked like something from the 1990s,” Oswald Feliz, the chair of the City Council’s Public Safety committee, said. “This had nothing to do with public safety, it had everything to do with violence and that is violence that we will not and cannot accept.”

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But for some, the behavior of the two veteran detectives raised concerns about how the unit and department was functioning.

Some critics have pointed out that Detectives Maden and Algerio appear to use cellphones, rather than police radios, to call for backup. Others noted that neither appeared to be wearing, or using, body cameras during the arrest.

Lincoln Restler, a city councilman who used to represent the Brooklyn district where the mistaken arrest happened, said the episode had concerned him enough to refer it to the city’s Department of Investigation. In his referral, Mr. Restler requested that the agency examine the Police Department’s communication practices for instances of unauthorized text and phone communication, according to a copy of the email obtained by The New York Times.

In the city’s policing community, reactions to the video have been more mixed. Union leaders and several former officers have chafed at the mayor’s response, defending the behavior of the two detectives and saying that Mr. Brown had no right to resist arrest. (It is not clear from the video whether Mr. Brown was in fact resisting arrest or if he was unable to comply while being beaten.)

“This is what happens when City Hall rushes to judge based on a viral clip instead of facts,” the detective union’s president, Scott Munro, said in a statement last week. “It’s reckless. It’s dangerous. And it’s a failure of leadership.”

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The Police Department said on Tuesday that the 90-day review will aim to address and reform the kind of policy violations raised by Mr. Restler and others. It added that both detectives were being investigated by the department’s Internal Affairs Bureau, which looks into reports of police misconduct.

The review will be led by the chief of department, Michael J. LiPetri, and will examine the policies of the entire narcotics division to make sure that its officers are enforcing their duties “safely and effectively,” the department said.

As part of the process, the department will review the current training that narcotics detectives receive and will ensure that all officers in the unit use “appropriate equipment.” The department also said it would clarify its current policy to require detectives to use body cameras during drug operations.

The department also said it will require commanding officers to regularly check in on the narcotics unit to ensure that it is meeting departmental standards for professional conduct during its operations.

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Harvey Weinstein’s Third Trial on Rape Charge Opens in Manhattan

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Harvey Weinstein’s Third Trial on Rape Charge Opens in Manhattan

She testified last year that she first met the former producer when she was about 27, after moving to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting. He pressured her into giving him a massage shortly after, she said.

In 2013, she was visiting New York and had planned a morning meal with friends and the producer. He arrived early and got a hotel room over her objections, Ms. Mann testified. Still, she went with him to the room, where he injected his penis with medication that produced an erection and then raped her, she said.

She tried to fight, she said, but eventually “I just gave up, I wanted to get out.”

In the years that followed, Ms. Mann said, she fell into a complex relationship with Mr. Weinstein, which included friendly email exchanges, phone calls and several consensual sexual encounters. In her testimony last year, she called it a “dance” in which she tried to keep him both happy and at a distance. At one point, Ms. Mann said, she decided to enter a romantic relationship with him.

During cross-examination, a lawyer for Mr. Weinstein questioned Ms. Mann about money — close to $500,000 — that she had received as settlement payments through a fund established as part of the bankruptcy of Mr. Weinstein’s company.

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“This is not about money for me,” Ms. Mann testified.

For this trial, Mr. Weinstein has hired a new trial team of Jacob Kaplan, Marc Agnifilo and Teny Geragos.

The lawyers have already signaled that their defense will differ, at least slightly. They have indicated that they will not argue that Ms. Mann made the accusations against their client for financial gain.

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