Lock up the women and drug patents, Sam Waksal is out of the halfway house and French cuffing his way across Manhattan’s Upper East Side.
New York magazine trots out its redemption template to profile the erstwhile biotech big-shot who was “dating” Martha Stewart’s daughter before he and the Domestic Diva “dated” the rest of his ImClone shareholders by selectively passing around inside information and obstructing justice.
His debt to society now paid, Waksal’s given up SoHo for the UES, where other failures and senior citizens go to disappear, but still gets his shirts “made” and is accompanied by his superiority complex on visits to the Met to gloat about having better stuff in his collection than it does.
•Prompted by Lorraine Bracco, he flirted with the women at his going-to-prison party by asking: “If I call you, can we have phone sex?”
•He discovered prison is “noisy.”
•He wrote, a lot. According to the story, he banged out memoir-style account of the ImClone story, then a prison memoir, then a first-person novella called Silence, “Because there was a chunk of time I just didn’t talk to anybody.” Oh, and there was a novel called To Predict the Future, which alternates between the present day and Germany between the wars.
•He’s still likely ridiculously wealthy because he had ImClone options when he was sent to the pokey. Then Eli Lilly bought the company for $6.5 billion.
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