Take the Money and Run

NEW YORK — Samuel Israel III is armed and dangerous.

At least, so warned "America’s Most Wanted" host John Walsh when the sensationalist crime show profiled Israel last week alongside its usual array of rapists and murderers. When you look at the balding, paunchy, middle-aged Israel, “danger” is not the first, or even second, word that comes to mind.

The former hedge fund manager, who defrauded clients out of more than $400 million when his ill-conceived ponzi scheme collapsed, suffers from chronic back pain and wears a pacemaker. In his mug shot, he stares quizzically at the camera with the thoroughly un-menacing look of a man who has gotten himself in way over his head. Consequently, when Israel’s lawyers confidently asserted at a bail hearing that “there is no question that Sam is neither a flight risk nor a danger to the community,” they had every reason to believe they were telling the truth.

But dissembling seems to be Mr. Israel’s forte, and on the day he was supposed to report to prison to begin serving a 20-year sentence, he chose instead to plunge himself into the center of one of the most widely covered manhunts since O.J. Simpson and his white Bronco hightailed it down Interstate 405.

On the morning of June 9, Israel got into his GMC Envoy and drove 30 miles from his Westchester home to Bear Mountain Bridge. There, he left his car behind with the words “suicide is painless” scrawled in dust on the windshield. His next move is something of a mystery, but investigators remain fairly convinced it did not involve hurling himself into the river below. A search has yielded no body, and it soon dawned on police that Israel’s morbid window writing was the title of the theme song from "M*A*S*H." (In a meta twist, "M*A*S*H" actually once played the track while a character faked his own suicide).

Since then, Israel has been on the lam, even after the authorities took his girlfriend, Debra Ryan, into custody for abetting the escape. Given Israel’s long history of medical problems (he was scheduled to undergo spinal surgery only days after his disappearance), it seems unlikely that he can evade the law for long. But then again, the most wanted man in the world is a six-foot-six-inch father of 24 who is rumored to be on dialysis, so perhaps this is going to take a while.

Where will Israel go? Well, he could follow the path of fellow white-collar criminal Jacob “Kobi” Alexander, who has been openly living in Namibia for two years while the United States wages a slow battle to have him extradited.

But even if Israel stays stateside, his saga will remain both perplexing and fascinating.

Samuel Israel was simply not meant to be a fugitive. Running from the law stirs up romantic visions perpetuated by everything from "Bonnie and Clyde" to "Prison Break." In contrast, Mr. Israel’s flight is about as prosaic as possible. Even his getaway car, a white camping vehicle, smacks of the mundane. (And in case the Feds ever apprehend his RV, Israel has apparently attached a blue scooter on the back to facilitate a dorky-looking getaway).

Yet pretending to be something that he is not seems to be Sam Israel’s favorite trick. He is no more ill-suited to his latest role as an unlikely fugitive than he was to his earlier stint as a hedge fund manager. In both cases, he proceeded despite obvious warning signs, making up for what he lacked in talent with deception. At the inception of his Bayou investment firm, Israel distributed a partially fabricated resume to attract clients. And when the inaptly named Bayou Superfund lost $35 million in 2003, Israel simply reported that it made $25 million instead, and invented an accounting firm to certify his fraudulent claims. Long after those heady days in which he decorated his office with tanks containing live pythons and rented a $32,000-per-month mansion from Donald Trump, he still seems to have trouble figuring out who he is. In a letter to the judge presiding over his case, Israel, who as his name suggests is Jewish, claimed the trial had forced him to reassess “what it means to be a Christian.”

The pattern of duplicity has a likely source. Israel is the scion of a prominent New Orleans family that founded a successful commodities trading firm. Throughout his life, he has consistently fallen short in his attempts to live up to that legacy, and consistently tried to make up for the difference by pretending. As he wrote earlier this year, "Ever since I can remember, I met people everywhere that have told me they know my family either directly or by reputation. I cheated my investors because I was afraid to admit my failure. I did not want the world to think I was not good enough and I did not want my family to see me as a failure."

Perhaps, compared to the burden of his numeral-laden name, the Feds on his tail seem like nothing.

—Daniel E. Herz-Roiphe, a Crimson associate editorial chair, is a social studies concentrator in Adams House.