New York
Rudy Giuliani, Slow to Transfer Assets to Election Workers, Could Be Held in Contempt
Rudolph W. Giuliani, the former mayor of New York, was grilled for hours in federal court on Friday after missing several deadlines to hand over $11 million of his prized possessions to two poll workers he defamed after the 2020 election.
Mr. Giuliani avoided, for now, being held in contempt of court — a charge he has been threatened with at various times during the case and that could include jail time.
But for most of his time on the stand, Mr. Giuliani frustrated the judge and the plaintiffs’ lawyers with a spotty memory and vague answers that slowed to a crawl proceedings that were already bogged down in minutiae.
For much of the seven-hour hearing, lawyers on both sides were preoccupied with the question: Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
One of the central items of Mr. Giuliani’s collection of sports memorabilia is a jersey signed by Mr. DiMaggio, the Yankees legend, that hung over the former mayor’s fireplace. On Friday, Mr. Giuliani said he had no idea where it was.
That was not the only missing Yankees great.
“There is no Reggie Jackson picture,” Mr. Giuliani said, referring to the right-fielder known as Mr. October. He had previously said in court documents that the picture would be handed over to the plaintiffs. But now, the photo didn’t exist, according to Mr. Giuliani. “The picture was Derek Jeter,” he said. “I was kind of confused about it.”
The judge, Lewis J. Liman, appeared skeptical of Mr. Giuliani’s puzzlement, noting that such a rare collectible, especially for an avowed Yankees fan, would be top of mind.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Giuliani said in response to questions about the collectibles, and a number of other items that were expected to be found in his New York apartment. “When I looked, this is what I found.”
At the heart of the contempt charges he continues to face is whether Mr. Giuliani, 80, has been uncooperative with the handover of his personal assets, which will serve as a small down payment on the $148 million defamation judgment that he owes the plaintiffs, Ruby Freeman and her daughter, Shaye Moss. Mr. Giuliani said, repeatedly and without evidence, that the women helped steal the presidential election from Donald J. Trump more than four years ago.
The assets include a 10-room apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan; a 1980 Mercedes-Benz convertible; a collection of 26 designer watches; and rare Yankees collectibles, the most valuable of which might be the signed and framed DiMaggio jersey.
More than two months after a federal court judge ordered Mr. Giuliani to hand over the items, the former mayor and his lawyers contend that he has tried to comply fully, but that the process has been onerous.
“Mr. Giuliani is an 80-year-old man who has been hit by a whirlwind of discovery,” said Joseph M. Cammarata, Mr. Giuliani’s lawyer, who specialized in divorce cases before joining the defense team. Mr. Giuliani is also facing civil and criminal charges in other cases, stemming from his time as Mr. Trump’s personal lawyer.
In roughly three hours on the stand on Friday, Mr. Giuliani repeatedly responded that he could not remember details about his personal items or their whereabouts.
While pressing Mr. Giuliani, Meryl Governski, one of the lawyers for the plaintiffs, turned her attention to a checking account subject to the seizure.
“Where does it say that you turned over the cash?” she asked Mr. Giuliani, pointing out an omission in a recent letter he wrote to the court.
Mr. Giuliani, flipping through a bulky binder of materials, appeared flustered. “Are we talking about the Mercedes now?” he said.
As the hearing dragged on, lawyers on both sides seemed to test Judge Liman’s patience. After a long series of objections by Mr. Cammarata, nearly all of them overruled, Judge Liman chastised the defense.
“If you have one more speaking objection, sir, you’re going to have to sit down,” he said. “You know the rules.”
On Thursday, Mr. Giuliani’s lawyer asked if his client could appear virtually, because of medical issues related to his left knee, as well as breathing problems attributed to Mr. Giuliani’s time spent at the World Trade Center after the Sept. 11 attacks.
But Judge Liman, who had a testy exchange with Mr. Giuliani about the case in November, said he would not accept Mr. Giuliani’s testimony unless he attended in person. So the former mayor, in a dark blue suit and glasses, walked into the 15th floor courtroom on Friday with a visible limp and a dry cough.
The transfer was originally scheduled to take place in late October. But one deadline after another has passed, and lawyers for the women said they have received only a fraction of the property.
The women have yet to receive legal possession of Mr. Giuliani’s apartment, once listed for over $6 million, in part because paperwork has not been updated since his divorce from his ex-wife Judith Giuliani, according to court filings. The title to Mr. Giuliani’s convertible, which he said was once owned by Lauren Bacall, has yet to be transferred.
But Mr. Giuliani raised eyebrows on Election Day, when he appeared in the passenger seat of the same convertible, more than a week after the initial turnover deadline. On Friday, he said he has requested a copy of the title to the car three times, but has yet to receive it.
In November, Mr. Giuliani’s original lawyers withdrew from the case, citing an undisclosed professional ethics reason.
In a recently unsealed letter explaining their departure, one of the lawyers, Kenneth Caruso, a longtime friend of Mr. Giuliani, said his client was not cooperating in the discovery process related to a condominium he owns in Palm Beach, Fla., and was withholding access to his electronic devices.
The judge will determine on Monday whether Mr. Giuliani was uncooperative during the discovery process. A separate hearing will be held to discuss his turnover efforts.
Later this month, Mr. Giuliani also faces the possibility of contempt charges in a Washington, D.C., court, where he has been accused of continuing to publicly make false claims about the two Georgia poll workers.
On Jan. 16, Mr. Giuliani is expected back in court to argue that his Palm Beach condo, as well as three personalized Yankees World Series rings, should be excluded from the handover.
Outside the courthouse, at a prepared mic stand, Mr. Giuliani, who typically appeared energized and combative, demurred.
“It would be inappropriate and unwise to say a darn thing about this case right now,” he said.
Every week since 1976, Metropolitan Diary has published stories by, and for, New Yorkers of all ages and eras (no matter where they live now): anecdotes and memories, quirky encounters and overheard snippets that reveal the city’s spirit and heart.
For the past four years, we’ve asked for your help picking the best Diary entry of the year. Now we’re asking again.
We’ve narrowed the field to the five finalists here. Read them and vote for your favorite. The author of the item that gets the most votes will receive a print of the illustration that accompanied it, signed by the artist, Agnes Lee.
The voting closes at 11:59 p.m. on Sunday, Dec. 21. You can change your vote as many times as you’d like until then, but you may only pick one. Choose wisely.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Two Stops
Dear Diary:
It was a drizzly June night in 2001. I was a young magazine editor and had just enjoyed what I thought was a very blissful second date — dinner, drinks, fabulous conversation — with our technology consultant at a restaurant in Manhattan.
I lived in Williamsburg at the time, and my date lived near Murray Hill, so we grabbed a cab and headed south on Second Avenue.
“Just let me out here,” my date said to the cabby at the corner of 25th Street.
We said our goodbyes, quick and shy, knowing that we would see each other at work the next day. I was giddy and probably grinning with happiness and hope.
“Oh boy,” the cabby said, shaking his head as we drove toward Brooklyn. “Very bad.”
“What do you mean?” I asked in horror.
“He doesn’t want you to know exactly where he lives,” the cabby said. “Not a good sign.”
I spent the rest of the cab ride in shock, revisiting every moment of the date.
Happily, it turned out that my instinct about it being a great date was right, and the cabby was wrong. Twenty-four years later, my date that night is my husband, and I know that if your stop is first, it’s polite to get out so the cab can continue in a straight line to the next stop.
Ferry Farewell
Dear Diary:
On a February afternoon, I met my cousins at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. Their spouses and several of our very-grown children were there too. I brought Prosecco, a candle, a small speaker to play music, photos and a poem.
We were there to recreate the wedding cruise of my mother, Monica, and my stepfather, Peter. They had gotten married at City Hall in August 1984. She was 61, and he, 71. It was her first marriage, and his fourth.
I was my mother’s witness that day. It was a late-in-life love story, and they were very happy. Peter died in 1996, at 82. My mother died last year. She was 100.
Peter’s ashes had waited a long time, but finally they were mingled with Monica’s. The two of them would ride the ferry a last time and then swirl together in the harbor forever. Cue the candles, bubbly, bagpipes and poems.
Two ferry workers approached us. We knew we were in trouble: Open containers and open flames were not allowed on the ferry.
My cousin’s husband, whispering, told the workers what we were doing and said we would be finished soon.
They walked off, and then returned. They said they had spoken to the captain, and they ushered us to the stern for some privacy. As the cup of ashes flew into the water, the ferry horn sounded two long blasts.
Unacceptable
Dear Diary:
I went to a new bagel store in Brooklyn Heights with my son.
When it was my turn to order, I asked for a cinnamon raisin bagel with whitefish salad and a slice of red onion.
The man behind the counter looked up at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
Teresa
Dear Diary:
It was February 2013. With a foot of snow expected, I left work early and drove from New Jersey warily as my wipers squeaked and snow and ice stuck to my windows.
I drove east on the Cross Bronx Expressway, which was tied up worse than usual. Trucks groaned on either side of my rattling Toyota. My fingers were cold. My toes were colder. Got to get home before it really comes down, I thought to myself.
By the time I got home to my little red bungalow a stone’s throw from the Throgs Neck Bridge, the snow was already up to my ankles.
Inside, I took off my gloves, hat, scarf, coat, sweater, pants and snow boots. The bed, still unmade, was inviting me. But first, I checked my messages.
There was one from Teresa, the 92-year-old widow on the corner.
“Call me,” she said, sounding desperate.
I looked toward the warm bed, but … Teresa. There was a storm outside, and she was alone.
On went the pants, the sweater, the coat, the scarf, the boots and the gloves, and then I went out the door.
The snow was six inches deep on the sidewalks, so I tottered on tire tracks in the middle of the street. The wind stung my face. When I got to the end of the block, I pounded on her door.
“Teresa!” I called. No answer. “Teresa!” I called again. I heard the TV blaring. Was she sprawled on the floor?
I went next door and called for Kathy.
“Teresa can’t answer the door,” I said. “Probably fell.”
Kathy had a key. In the corner of her neat living room, Teresa, in pink sweatpants and sweaters, was sitting curled in her armchair, head bent down and The Daily News in her lap.
I snapped off the TV.
Startled, she looked up.
“Kathy! Neal!” she said. “What’s a five-letter word for cabbage?”
Nice Place
Dear Diary:
When I lived in Park Slope over 20 years ago, I once had to call an ambulance because of a sudden, violent case of food poisoning.
Two paramedics, a man and a woman, entered our third-floor walk-up with a portable chair. Strapping me in, the male medic quickly inserted an IV line into my arm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his partner circling around and admiring the apartment.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” she said. “Do you own it?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, all but unconscious.
Once I was in the ambulance, she returned to her line of inquiry.
“Do you mind me asking how much you paid for your apartment?”
“$155,000,” I croaked.
“Wow! You must have bought during the recession.”
“Yeah” I said.
They dropped me off at Methodist Hospital, where I was tended to by a nurse as I struggled to stay lucid.
At some point, the same medic poked her head into the room with one last question:
“You wouldn’t be wanting to sell any time soon, would you?”
Illustrations by Agnes Lee.
‘Part of the job’
Edwin Guity was at the controls of a southbound D train last December, rolling through the Bronx, when suddenly someone was on the tracks in front of him.
He jammed on the emergency brake, but it was too late. The man had gone under the wheels.
Stumbling over words, Mr. Guity radioed the dispatcher and then did what the rules require of every train operator involved in such an incident. He got out of the cab and went looking for the person he had struck.
“I didn’t want to do it,” Mr. Guity said later. “But this is a part of the job.”
He found the man pinned beneath the third car. Paramedics pulled him out, but the man died at the hospital. After that, Mr. Guity wrestled with what to do next.
A 32-year-old who had once lived in a family shelter with his parents, he viewed the job as paying well and offering a rare chance at upward mobility. It also helped cover the costs of his family’s groceries and rent in the three-bedroom apartment they shared in Brooklyn.
But striking the man with the train had shaken him more than perhaps any other experience in his life, and the idea of returning to work left him feeling paralyzed.
Edwin Guity was prescribed exposure therapy after his train struck a man on the tracks.
Hundreds of train operators have found themselves in Mr. Guity’s position over the years.
And for just as long, there has been a path through the state workers’ compensation program to receiving substantive treatment to help them cope. But New York’s train operators say that their employer, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, has done too little to make them aware of that option.
After Mr. Guity’s incident, no official told him of that type of assistance, he said. Instead, they gave him the option of going back to work right away.
But Mr. Guity was lucky. He had a friend who had been through the same experience and who coached him on getting help — first through a six-week program and then, with the assistance of a lawyer, through an experienced specialist.
The specialist prescribed a six-month exposure therapy program to gradually reintroduce Mr. Guity to the subway.
His first day back at the controls of a passenger train was on Thanksgiving. Once again, he was driving on the D line — the same route he had been traveling on the day of the fatal accident.
M.T.A. representatives insisted that New York train operators involved in strikes are made aware of all options for getting treatment, but they declined to answer specific questions about how the agency ensures that drivers get the help they need.
In an interview, the president of the M.T.A. division that runs the subway, Demetrius Crichlow, said all train operators are fully briefed on the resources available to them during their job orientation.
“I really have faith in our process,” Mr. Crichlow said.
Still, other transit systems — all of which are smaller than New York’s — appear to do a better job of ensuring that operators like Mr. Guity take advantage of the services available to them, according to records and interviews.
A Times analysis shows that the incidents were on the rise in New York City’s system even as they were falling in all other American transit systems.
An Uptick in Subway Strikes
San Francisco’s system provides 24-hour access to licensed therapists through a third-party provider.
Los Angeles proactively reaches out to its operators on a regular basis to remind them of workers’ compensation options and other resources.
The Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority has made it a goal to increase engagement with its employee assistance program.
The M.T.A. says it offers some version of most of these services.
But in interviews with more than two dozen subway operators who have been involved in train strikes, only one said he was aware of all those resources, and state records suggest most drivers of trains that strike people are not taking full advantage of them.
“It’s the M.T.A.’s responsibility to assist the employee both mentally and physically after these horrific events occur,” the president of the union that represents New York City transit workers, John V. Chiarello, said in a statement, “but it is a constant struggle trying to get the M.T.A. to do the right thing.”
new video loaded: Protesters Arrested After Trying to Block a Possible ICE Raid
transcript
transcript
Protesters Arrested After Trying to Block a Possible ICE Raid
Nearly 200 protesters tried to block federal agents from leaving a parking garage in Lower Manhattan on Saturday. The confrontation appeared to prevent a possible ICE raid nearby, and led to violent clashes between the police and protesters.
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[chanting] “ICE out of New York.”
By Jorge Mitssunaga
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