Scamfluencers - Lee Israel: Scammer She Wrote

Episode Date: April 7, 2025

After her latest biography flopped, Lee Israel was hard up for money to buy booze and cat food. So, she used her research skills to access celebrity letters in prominent archives, stealing them and adding juicy tidbits to hike up their value. The librarians are clueless, and the collectors she sells to are flipping her letters for big bucks. But Lee discovers that the feds are not as charmed by her con artist bon mots.Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterListen to Scamfluencers on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial by visiting wondery.com/links/scamfluencers/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Scamfluencers listeners, if you're as hooked on these jaw-dropping schemes as we are, you'll love Wondry+. Think of it as your all-access pass to the world of scams. Add free episodes, early access, and exclusive deep dives that uncover even more shocking details. Don't just listen, immerse yourself in the chaos with Wondry+. Sarah, have you ever had the impulse to buy an old letter by a famous and dead writer? I feel like I'm more of a movie memorabilia girl.

I look at a prop auction when I'm bored. Interesting. I feel like I would pay maybe any amount of money to have an old letter from the guy who wrote Peanuts, but only if it was like inexplicably erotic, you know? What? That's... Hahaha! What are you talking about, you freak?

Wouldn't you want to own that letter? No, he's a man pure of heart. We're not talking about a freak like Jim Davis. But that's why you'd want to own that letter. If Jim Davis wrote something horny, you'd be like, yeah, of course Jim Davis wrote a horny thing. Yeah, that's true, that's true. It's nothing.

Okay, I can see where you're coming from a little bit. Well, I have a good one for you today, Sarah. It's all about the New York literati of way back when and how far another writer will go to have her genius recognized. [♪ music ends, car horn honks, car engine starts up, engine revs up, engine revs down, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs down, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, engine revs up, It's a sticky July evening in 1992 on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Kids play in the street, people feed quarters into payphones, and New Yorkers of all shapes and sizes are gathered on sidewalks and front stoops enjoying the summer night. A middle-aged woman tries to break through the crowd in front of her building.

Her heavy eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as she lugs a clunky antique typewriter down the sidewalk. But she's not heading to her local coffee shop to work on her novel. Instead, the woman tears off a tag hanging from the typewriter that reads, Eugene O'Neill. And with a huff, she lifts the typewriter and throws it straight into a trash can. You know what? Typewriters are very heavy, so this is a lot of effort to dispose of something.

Yeah, you know she's mad because she's throwing a typewriter. I know she's mad because I've tried picking up a typewriter and I was like, how did people do that? Now, this woman is not Eugene O'Neill, the renowned American playwright who died in 1953. Her name is Lee Israel. She's a writer as well, and a pretty good one too. She's had bylines in the New York Times and in Esquire, and she's published three biographies, including

one that hit the New York Times bestseller list. Lee has been doing a lot of writing lately, but not for publication. She heads back up the stairs and reappears with another vintage typewriter tagged with yet another famous name. Lee trashes this one too and repeats the process over and over again. Lee spends the whole hot, sticky night throwing away about a dozen typewriters and constantly looking over her shoulder while she does it. Because Lee isn't just cleaning house,

she's disposing of evidence. Lee has been using these old typewriters to forge letters that she claims are from famous authors, and she's been selling the dupes for cold, hard cash. So she was using these typewriters to say, like, oh, this specific writer used this type of typewriter. That's pretty smart. Attention to detail.

Well, just hours ago, Lee found out that she's become very, very popular with the FBI. So now she's trying to get ahead of law enforcement to save her skin. It doesn't take a bestselling author to see that Lee's written herself into the role as a villain. And the FBI is going to want a lot more than just her autograph. When Luigi Mangione was arrested for allegedly shooting the CEO of UnitedHealthcare, he didn't just spark outrage, he ignited a cultural firestorm. Is the system working or is it time for a reckoning? I'm Jesse Weber.

Listen to Law and Crime's Luigi, exclusively on Wondery+. When a young woman named Desi Re vanishes without a trace, the trail leads to Kat Torres, a charismatic influencer with millions of followers. But behind the glamorous posts and inspirational quotes, a sinister truth unravels. Binge all episodes of Don't Cross Kat early and ad-free on Wondery+. From Wondery, I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Haggi. And this is Scamfluencers. In the 1980s, writer Lee Israel received critical acclaim

for her meticulously researched biographies. She relished her role in the hard-drinking, hard-partying circle of the New York literati. But when her latest book bombs, it's a big blow to her ego, and to her bank account. So Lee comes up with a scheme to take advantage of her very specific set of skills, stealing letters from famous writers and selling them, and sometimes writing entirely new letters and passing them off as originals. Instead of writing about history, Lee is making it up. But eventually, the feds will catch on to her scheme, and Lee will have to reinvent herself once again. This is Lee Israel, Scammers She Wrote.

scammer she wrote. It's 1983 in New York City. Lee Israel is sitting in a dark paneled restaurant full of big suits, big hair, and even bigger egos. Lee is in her 40s. She has short dark hair and eyebrows that arch dramatically whenever she makes a cutting remark about another writer, which is often. She's got everyone at her table laughing at her acerbic wit.

She's mean like Regina George, but droll like Frasier. Lee specializes in writing feature articles and well-researched and well-reviewed biographies of golden age starlets and writers. Lee is living the life she always wanted, the life of a writer. It's really interesting thinking about writers this way, because I think for a lot of people, it's not just about like, oh, I'm a writer, I have this talent, I'm

being published. It's like the lifestyle in your mind of a writer who is tortured and in these salons with these New York people. And, you know, it's like half of this image and also a little bit of actually working. It's almost no working if you think about it. While Lee was born in 1939 to Jewish parents in Brooklyn, went to college in New York and spent decades working her way up as a freelance writer. She penned articles for everything from soap opera Digest to profiles for the New York Times.

She profiled Katharine Hepburn for Esquire in 1967 and published her first book in 1972. In 1980, she hit the bestseller list. But it's been a few years since Lee's actually written anything. She's mostly spent her time having liquid lunches and waxing poetic about potential subjects for a new book. Lee wants her next subject to be someone great,

or at least someone only she could write about. Lee's favorite subjects are brilliant and mysterious women, people who would take a really special writer to understand, a writer like Lee. You may have noticed that Lee is her own biggest fan. Maybe it's the accolades, maybe it's the drinking, but she seems to have no sense of imposter syndrome. I love a writer who isn't pretending to have imposter syndrome. Someone who's just like, I'm good at my job and I'm owning it and I'm not going to pretend that this is hard for me.

Yeah, very true. But Lee's confidence doesn't always serve her well. She was working with Bette Davis on an autobiography, but it fell apart because, as Lee later writes, she yelled back. She also starts, but eventually abandons, books about Roy Cohn, Vanessa Redgrave, and Woody Allen. And each time, Lee had to return her advance money

to the publishers after she canceled the contract. She's wasted so much time on these efforts that she's open to it when Macmillan offers her big bucks for a biography on the beauty magnate Estee Lauder. Lee doesn't have much interest in Estee herself. This is all about the money. And it's a lot of money. According to Lee, it's somewhere in the high five figures.

Yeah, that's a ton of money back then. And also, I feel like this is the kind of, quote, easy job she could do in her sleep. But that means it's not challenging, which is a problem for someone like Lee. Yeah, Lee probably imagines herself finishing work in time for happy hour every night. But Lee is about to learn that writing about Estee is gonna be much more complicated than she thought.

Because writing about people who are alive can be tricky, especially when they want you to stop. Shortly after she gets the Estee Lauder gig, Lee pushes her way into a grimy dive bar. It's the middle of the day, and the man she's looking for is perched on one of the stools. Jack Hawk, a tall, handsome man in his 30s with impressive white veneers.

His original teeth were allegedly punched out by a hustler he tried to rip off. Lee has been friends with Jack for a while. She knows he's a sort of lovable grifter. Jack's also the kind of guy who fancy lawyers hire to handle their less savory issues. And this includes lawyers for Estee Lauder. That's why he's waiting for Lee today.

Estee knows that Lee is good at digging, and she would prefer to keep her secrets out of her biography. So she wants to offer Lee a deal to put the pen down. Lee has already turned down an offer of $60,000. $60,000 to not write a book. Now, Jack swirls his drink and tells Lee the old broad is still determined to bury the project. So Lee can name her price.

Lee considers the offer. The money would be nice. It's the only reason she took this gig in the first place. But something nags at her. Lee has written about a lot of golden age heroes who stood up to censorship. And if she wants to live up to their standards, she needs to take a page out of their book. Sure, Estée has known Joseph McCarthy.

But Lee can't walk away from the truth. So she turns Jack's proposition down. She's writing the damn book. Sure, Estée has no Joseph McCarthy, but Lee can't walk away from the truth. So she turns Jack's proposition down. She's writing the damn book. Lee, you idiot. I totally understand. I am anti-censorship. Listen, I've been banned from a newspaper or two, but this is dumb. Like, it's not that important. Who cares? I would be like, you know what, 60, make it 80. Imagine getting money to not do something. Okay, well, Sarah, here's the thing. This is where I tell you that we are taking

this little morality play from Lee's own memoir. It turns out that the most comprehensive written source we have on Lee is Lee. So there is a chance that her motivations were less than pure. What we do know is that Lee is ready to dive headfirst into her research, which is her favorite part of writing. She could spend all day pouring over books

and articles and letters, but she soon learns that she won't have time because Este has decided to try and stop Lee another way by releasing her own autobiography. It's now a race to the bookshelves and Lee's publisher wants her to win. So Lee has to hurry through her normally meticulous process. And ultimately, Lee beats Estate to Market, but her book bombs.

The book is unpopular with customers and critics alike, and she knows it's because she rushed her research. Years later, in her memoir, Lee refers to the Estate book as, quote, unimportant. For Lee, her hurt pride is more devastating than any bad review. You know, this is kind of proof that some people shouldn't bet on themselves. Yeah, there's a lot of stories we cover where the lesson is people should believe in themselves less. And Lee's pride isn't the only thing to take a hit.

Her career does as well. She tries to stretch the money from her book advance to last as long as possible. But just like the work lunches and martinis, the cash dries up. Between the estate debacle and her, let's say, prickly personality, no one is willing to give Lee another chance.

Sure, her previous books were good and sold fairly well, but despite her own sense of self-importance, Lee is too big a risk for any publisher to bet on again. Lee has only ever been a writer, and if no one is paying her to write, she has no idea what she's going to do next. A few years after her failed biography, Lee pushes open the heavy doors of The Strand, New York City's largest and most iconic bookstore. But she isn't here to shop. Lee is holding a stack of her own cherished books,

personal favorites that have lined the shelves of her apartment for years. And today, she's hoping to sell them. It's painful to part with them, but Lee is desperate. She's down to her last few dollars. Lee's had a long downward spiral since the Estee Lauder mess. Now 50, Lee is on welfare and has slid into full on alcoholism. She uses what little money she has to buy booze, care for her beloved cat Jersey, and pay for her rent controlled studio apartment on the Upper West Side.

So now, book by book, she's selling off her personal library. But today, the buyer at the Strand turns her away. As far as he's concerned, Lee's got nothing worth buying. Lee feels a surge of anger and despair. So she flies into a rage, shouting at the buyer and shoving the books onto the floor. This gets her kicked out of the Strand and banned for life. It just isn't fair.

Lee used to get paid to write books. Now she's not even allowed back into her favorite bookstore. I have this experience every time I consign clothes. Every time I go into a consignment shop, they're like, this is worth nothing. But I hold on to my dignity and I don't freak out. And Lee could learn a thing or two from me. Yes, Lee could learn so much from you, Sarah.

Lee tries to hold down a nine to five doing things like copy editing and assistant work, but she can't stand being spoken down to by her employers. She never lasts in an office more than a few days. It isn't just work that Lee's losing thanks to her bad attitude. Her drunken tirades have scared off all of her friends, and no one will be near her anymore

except her beloved cat, Jersey, until Jersey passes away. That is devastating. Even as someone who doesn't have a pet. I actually don't have a pet because I don't want to think about it dying. Yeah, I can't imagine my cat dying. Lee truly feels like she has nothing. She sold off everything worth anything.

Even a tear-stained letter that the Catherine Hepburn wrote to her while Lee was profiling her for a big magazine. This low in particular must have stood out to Lee. She used to spend her days chatting with golden age stars. And now she's all alone. But then, a few weeks later, Lee is walking the streets of New York at night when she notices two eyes staring at her from underneath a parked car.

She looks closer, and in the faint glow of the streetlight, she sees a kitten. Lee has been struggling so much, but this feels like fate, and she really needs a little love right now. Lee scoops up the cat and sees that her little face is half orange and half black. And Lee decides to name her Doris, after an ex that Lee also considered two-faced. Lee takes Doris home, but the cat refuses to eat, and Lee has no idea why.

Her grief at losing one pet is still so fresh, and Lee is desperate to save her new friend, but she can't afford the vet. To save her new baby Doris, Lee is willing to do anything. And this little face, with its big eyes and whiskers, will turn Lee from cat lady to criminal. Around the time that she brings Doris home, Lee is spending time in her holy place, the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Outside of her apartment, this is the only place

she can actually escape her woes. She's there looking through the letters of a late, great soap opera writer to see if there's anything that would make for a good freelance article. Lee loves writing about the lives and letters of women she relates to, golden age starlets and writers who complain endlessly about their problems.

Lee loves the way they tear down mindless executives, absent lovers, and overhyped competitors. Sure, these women may have all been more famous than Lee, but they all must feel, to her, like kindred spirits. This soap opera writer had been pen pals with Fanny Brice, the early 20th century singer and actress who inspired the movie Funny Girl. The letters aren't exciting at all. Fanny even writes that she's a better actress than a writer,

so she promises to tell her most interesting stories in person. But Lee knows what a big deal Fanny is. The letters aren't doing much just sitting here in an obscure writer's personal effects, but an autograph seller could probably sell them for a decent chunk of change. When Lee sold her letter from Catherine Hepburn, she got a few hundred bucks,

so these have to be worth something. And Lee needs money for Doris's vet bills. She figures Fanny Bryce is dead, but Lee is alive, and so is Doris. For now. So Lee makes sure the coast is clear, and then carefully slides three Fanny letters into her notebook. She goes into the bathroom and slips the letters into her shoes. And then she gets out of there as fast as she can. She immediately heads to the nearest bookstore specializing in rare letters. The whole way over, Lee practices a complicated and made-up story about how she stumbled onto

this rare find. But when she gets there, the bookshop owner just asks one question. Is she THE Lee Israel? Lee must feel elated. Not only does someone still remember her writing work, but her reputation is enough for the autograph seller to make an offer. It's only 40 bucks per letter, $120 in total. But still, this money is more than enough to help Doris.

Before Lee leaves, the bookseller says one more thing. She'd pay more if the letters were juicier. Lee thinks about this promise the whole way home. How much would these juicy letters be worth exactly? And where could she find some? Obviously, this is a light bulb moment for her, but also attaching her name to this sale of letters she stole from the library that are, there's a record of them existing. I feel like that is a very bad move, but she probably doesn't realize how far this obviously is going to go. Yeah. But for now, when Lee enters her apartment,

she's shaken from her thoughts by even better news. Doris has licked her plate clean. She's eating again. Lee doesn't even need to pay the vet. Flushed with cash and probably riding high from the autograph seller room and bring her name, Lee considers this news side hustle. And it sparks an idea that will take advantage

of her research savvy, excite her creative side, and bring her a lot more income. Lee heads off to buy an antique typewriter, something old enough to have belonged to Fanny Brice, and she returns to the performing arts library, pulling the same scheme. Letters from Fanny tucked in her notebook, then her shoe. This time, she takes them all the way home. She noticed there was enough empty space on the letters to add a postscript. So now, in her apartment,

Lee places an authentic Fanny letter in her typewriter. In this note, Fanny celebrated the birth of her grandson. Lee, probably laughing to herself, adds a PS. Sarah, can you read it? Yes, Lee pretending to be Fanny, says, He has my old nose. Do I have to leave him an extra something for repairs? That's really charming and clever.

I feel like a lot of people who forge stuff don't have the riz of the original person, but Lee obviously is such a good writer that she can make this very exciting. Yeah, unfortunately, that's very funny. And this is exactly the kind of edgy tidbit good writer that she can make this very exciting. Yeah, unfortunately, that's very funny. And this is exactly the kind of edgy tidbit that should drive up the price of these letters.

Lee's crazy plan has evolved from stealing correspondence from the famous people she admires, to writing as them too. And just like that, New York Times bestseller, Lee Israel, is ready to write again. Seller Lee Israel is ready to write again. In the early hours of December 4th, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan.

This assailant starts firing at him. And the suspect... He has been identified as Luigi Nicholas Mangione. ...became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history was meant to so terror is awoking the people to a true issue listen to law and crimes Luigi exclusively on one degree plus enjoying one degree plus one degree app Spotify or Apple podcasts.

Everyone has that friend who seems kind of perfect for Betty that friend was that kind of perfect. For Patty, that friend was Desiree. Until one day… I texted her and she was not getting the text. So I went to Instagram and she has no Instagram anymore. And Facebook, no Facebook anymore. Desiree was gone. And there was one person who knew the answer. I am a spiritual person, a magical person, a witch. A gorgeous Brazilian influencer called Cat Torres, but who was hiding a secret. From Wondery, based on my smash hit podcast from Brazil, comes a new series, Don't Cross Cat,

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And I feel like a legend Sometime in 1991, Lee is in her apartment, hunched over a boxy old TV that's laying on its back. But this TV isn't for watching. Lee lays a freshly typed letter over a photocopied signature and carefully traces it, using the TV as a makeshift lightbox. Right now, Lee is working on a letter in the voice of Louise Brooks, the silent film actress who popularized the flapper look in the 1920s. Louise is too famous to have her letters sitting out in the library, so Lee recently started writing letters as Louise, pulling exact quotes from her research and assembling the letters with knowledge from her time in the archives. So far, the autograph dealers around the city seem like they can't tell the difference.

They're impressed with her vast collection and always excited to see what she's brought them. And Lee seems to feel like, if they're this easy to fool, they deserve it. As a biographer, you might think Lee would feel guilty about attributing fake letters to important people. These are the kinds of primary source documents that she spends hours pouring over in her work, assuming that they are real. Now there's a chance that the things she makes up in her letters will be included in accounts

of the celebrities she admires so much. Her work could change history, but Lee later says that she was careful not to alter any large truths about her subjects. And maybe she thought she was so good, she wasn't doing them any harm. This is classic scammer creating like a weird set of rules in your own mind and like boundaries that aren't quite real to justify doing something that's wrong, right? Arbitrary internal logic. Yes, exactly.

Well, listen, the world of celebrity autographs has always been very loosely regulated. These businesses are all built on trust. Before the internet, collectors would simply call up dealers to ask about letters from a specific writer or actress. Or they'd go to trade shows to see booths lined with memorabilia. There were no five-star reviews so they just had to trust the dealer wasn't screwing them over. Which meant the dealers had to trust their sources too. Sure, there were tests that could be performed, comparing signatures or checking the manufacturing date on the paper, but that's expensive and time consuming.

Plus, like any small industry, rare letters are a competitive field. Dealers want to build relationships with sellers who have big collections, so they're incentivized to believe them. And if the autographs make their customers happy, who's a fake letter going to hurt? Not Lee, that's for sure. This is the most fun she's had in years. And after a few more sales, Lee doesn't even think that she needs to quote these stars directly.

In her opinion, she's so good at embodying her subjects that she can just make up period-specific jokes, gossip, and thoughts on the news of days past. Can you read a passage Lee wrote as Louise about an actress whose affair inspired homicidal rage? Sure. She wrote, balls. I can't imagine anyone going into a jealous rage about Joan Bennett. People were saying at the time, because the fight took place in the NOA parking lot, that they were really squabbling over a parking space. But Joan's husband before Walter had attempted suicide at the thought of Walter having her. So she must have something that the camera doesn't catch.

Ooh, I mean, these are the kind of texts someone who's being especially bitchy would send their friend. And I feel like she got the voice of someone saying that exactly right. Yeah, it's a shame it's false. Well, Leigh's freestyling makes the letters juicier and it also satisfies her creative itch. In fact, Leigh starts to feel like these forgeries might be the best work she's ever done. Maybe there's a market for her own writing after all. But with Lee's writing comes Lee's biggest weakness, her own hubris. And this time, her trademark sense of self is going to cost her a lot more than just

book sales. As she gets deeper into her scheme, Lee collects more tools of her trade. And today, she's unlocking the metal door of a storage locker. Its shelves are stacked high with vintage typewriters. Each one is labeled with a famous name. Eugene O'Neill, Aldous Huxley, Dorothy Parker, Humphrey Bogart, and more. These, of course, all belong to Lee. She's expanded her collection to include typewriters from different decades

that could feasibly belong to different writers. That's just the kind of thoroughness you can expect from Lee Israel. Clacking on these antique keys also helps Lee get into character. She makes sure to choose subjects who are already dead, and those she feels a sort of kinship with. She later says she almost channels them in her writing. Here's a clip of Lee, decades later, reading from one of her fabricated letters on NPR. In this one, she's writing as Dorothy Parker, the Spitfire writer and heavy drinker. I have a hangover that is a real museum piece. I'm sure that I must have said something terrible.

To save me this kind of exertion in the future, I am thinking of having little debtors run off saying, can you ever forgive me, Dorothy? Can you ever forgive me, Dorothy? Can you ever forgive me, Dorothy? The phrase museum piece is Dorothy's, but the sarcastic apology is all Lee. She knows exactly what this kind of hangover feels like. And she's loving putting her own quips, complaints, and problems into the voices of her heroes.

Not only is Lee writing again, she's also making new friends. She becomes close with many autographed dealers in New York and she enjoys laughing over drinks and talking about these great minds. The dealers marvel over the letters, complimenting the writing in the wit of the greatest writers ever.

And Lee cannot help but agree. After all, they're talking about her. After so much time alone in her apartment, she's part of a community again, even if she got there by lying. I'm sure there's a part of her that is, like, very happy she's in this world again and being revered, but also kind of upset that it had to be this way

and not because of the things she's writing from her own mind as Lee, right? Yeah, I mean, I would feel like that. Well, Lee sometimes suspects that her big ticket dealers know her secret. One even tells her that her works are, quote, real if we say they're real. And Lee soon realizes why dealers are eager to keep accepting her letters. They're selling her forgeries at a serious markup.

While Lee gets between $50 and $100 for each letter, some of them are resold for thousands of dollars. Lee doesn't get upset. She just sees this as a reason to write even more fake letters. But soon, one of these dealers will stop seeing Lee as a friend and start seeing her as a target. At the peak of her scheme, Lee is sitting at a dimly lit bar in a restaurant with Alan, an autographed dealer and bookshop owner. In the past few months, he's bought many of Lee's fake letters. He was trying to corner the market on Dorothy Parker.

But according to Lee's memoir, Alan reveals that he isn't here today to purchase anything. He wants Lee to buy something from him instead. His silence. Alan says he's recently been asked to testify before a grand jury about her. Lee is stunned. But there had been hints that some people were catching on to her scheme.

Recently, she'd been writing letters as a playwright Noel Coward. These letters brought her the most joy to write. She thought she was doing Coward better than Coward. As a member of the queer community herself, Lee had enjoyed mimicking the fabulous quirky style Noel used to talk about his sex life in his diaries. But one of her buyers alerted her to a problem. Someone he sold it to, a dealer on the West Coast, had sold some letters to a friend of the real Noel Coward. And the buyer immediately smelled a rat. Noel may have been frank about his

sexuality in his diaries, but he never would have been that open about being gay in his letters. In the 1930s, homosexuality was a crime. This was a detail that Lee completely overlooked. And now, her dealer friend says that he can't sell her letters in California anymore. But he's careful not to come down hard on Lee. They've made a lot of money together, and neither is particularly interested in stopping now. I feel like Hercules is really catching up to her at this point, because for someone who's thought out this scam so well, it seems like quite a rookie mistake

and a bit thoughtless, to be honest. Yeah, and dodging West Coast dealers is one thing, but a grand jury is quite another. Allen is a frequent customer of Lee's, so he knows that his testimony could ruin her. So Lee later writes that Allen makes her an offer. For $5,000, he won't tell everything he knows, or at the very least, suspects. Lee swears she'll get him the money. She just needs a little time. Allen leaves the bar satisfied. He even pays for her drink. Lee downs her scotch and weighs her options. She doesn't have that kind of money and she can't exactly forge something new now that she knows the cops are watching her.

Sharpening her wit and fake letters has been some of the most challenging and satisfying work of her career. But now it could land her in serious trouble. If only she had real letters she could sell. And then she gets an idea. University libraries are full of letters from famous American writers that are worth lots of money. But this also means that they'd be missed if they were stolen, unless no one knew they were gone. Lee could use her typewriters and lightbox

to create a perfect forgery of a real letter. Then she'd swap her forgery for the real letter and take the real one home to sell. But at this point, her reputation is tarnished. She needs someone to sell the letters on her behalf. If only she knew some kind of lovable grifter, someone like her old friend Jack. Oh, this is really smart.

Yeah, it's clever. And it's smart to call Jack because he's had a few hard years himself. He spent some time in prison, but has recently been granted a compassionate release. Jack has AIDS, which in the early 90s was a death sentence for him and hundreds of thousands of other people.

But despite his illness, Jack is still Jack. So he's happy to meet Lee for lunch. At the restaurant, Lee lays out her plan. After she makes the swap, all he'd have to do is schmooze dealers into buying the real letters, and he can keep about half of whatever he gets for them. Jack is just tickled by his old friend's descent into crime. And the money doesn't sound bad either.

He's in. Lee starts visiting university libraries at Princeton, Columbia, Harvard, Penn State, and many more, bouncing between them to avoid attracting too much attention. She copies the letters she finds, then goes back to her apartment or hotel to replicate them. And the next day, she returns to the library

and swaps her dupe for the real thing, hiding them on her person and praying that no librarians examine the materials she returns too closely. After each forgery, Lee gives the letters to Jack, who waltzes into the offices of dealers with a made-up story of how he stumbled upon these American treasures. And according to Lee, one of their best customers is Alan, the blackmailer. Soon, Lee is able to pay Alan his bribe with his own money. Oh my god. You know what? That's really funny. It's a pretty good scam.

Imagine the satisfaction you would feel if you pulled that off. Yeah, frankly, I would have to tell people. You'd be like, suck it. Yeah. It'd be hard to not tell people. Even better, Lee never hears about the grand jury threat again. She never finds out why. Maybe it's because no one would talk,

or maybe she just wasn't making enough money for the courts to care. Whatever the reason, it only improved her grift. It's far more profitable now. Because Jack is much older than Lee was. Lee asks for more money, sometimes even more than the letters are worth. For some letters, she and Jack take home thousands of dollars. The two of them use their money to decorate Jack's new apartment and treat themselves to boozy outings. Lee even takes care of Jack as his battle with AIDS intensifies. They're partners in crime, and more importantly, they're true friends.

But Jack is about to get way too comfortable and doom them both. David Loewenhart sits in his Manhattan office, looking down at a paper on his desk. He's in his late 30s, with dark hair and sharp eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses. He pushes them up his nose as he dials a number on his desk phone. He opened his own autographed dealership more than a decade ago. He's always taken his work very, very seriously. His office is crowded with seemingly endless stacks of yellow paper, letters, manuscripts, and political cartoons from some of the greatest minds in history.

The piece of paper he's looking down at now is a rare, remarkable find. A letter from Ernest Hemingway himself. David knows this is real and is worth serious money, but he can't help but feel uneasy. He keeps thinking about the smooth-talking, friendly man who sold it to him, claiming he found the letter amongst his dead lover's possessions. David's bought a few letters from Jack Hock before, but the longer he knows him, the less he trusts him. It's just a gut feeling. Which is why he's making this phone call.

He mentioned the letter to a friend and learned that it was supposed to be at Columbia University, not in anyone's private collection. So David calls the Columbia University Library. He reaches the head of manuscripts, and the librarian is confused at first by what David tells him. He says that specific Hemingway letter,

the one sitting on David's desk, is still in their library. And then it dawns on them both. Only one of the letters can be real. David raises uptown with his copy, so the two letters can be compared in person. And sure enough, they are exactly the same. Almost. After careful analysis,

they figure out that the one in the library is a fake. David asks the name of the last person to sign in to view the letter, and it's Lee. Oh, brother. Although the scheme with the library letters to view the letter, and it's Lee. Oh, brother. Although the scheme with the library letters is really clever, it is such a gamble because with so many of these scams, it just takes one person to realize something's off.

And also, her name's already been sullied, you know? Yeah, exactly. David's heard the rumors that Lee has been forging letters. He met her himself and didn't totally trust her. And he prides himself on being absolutely certain that the pieces he sells are real. So, just to be safe, he has a rule to not do business with Lee. But he had no idea that she had any connection to Jack. As a dedicated historian, David believes that Lee is endangering the legacy of great writers.

And he wants to make sure she doesn't get away with it. So he calls the FBI. They come to his office to talk, and while the agents are all standing around his desk, David's phone rings. It's Jack. And he's calling to say he's just found a lovely collection of 20th century letters. The FBI asks David if he's willing to wear a wire.

David agrees. He knows that the only way to keep Lee Israel from rewriting history is by threatening her immediate future. In the early hours of December 4, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan. This assailant starts firing at him. And the suspect,

He has been identified as Luigi Nicolas Mangione, became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history. I was meant to sow terror. He's awoking the people to a true issue. Listen to Law and Crime's Luigi exclusively on Wondery+. You can join Wondery+, the Wondery app, Spotify or Apple podcasts. In the early hours of December 4th, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan. This assailant pulls out a weapon and starts firing at him. We're talking

about the CEO of the biggest private health insurance corporation in the world. And the suspect, he has been identified as Luigi Nicholas Mangione, became one of the most private health insurance corporation in the world and the suspect has been identified as Luigi Nicholas mangioni became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history was targeted premeditated and meant to sow terror. I'm Jesse Weber host of Luigi produced by law and crime and twist this is more than a true crime investigation we explore a uniquely American moment that could change the country forever.

The people to a true issue. I mean maybe this would be rich and powerful people to acknowledge the barbaric nature of our health care system. Listen to law and crimes Luigi exclusively on one degree plus enjoying one degree plus the one, Spotify, or Apple podcasts. It's July, 1992, and Leigh is sitting in a fancy New York deli during the lunch rush.

She stares down at what's left of her pastrami on rye, but she's lost her appetite. She can't help but feel that something is wrong. Jack was supposed to meet her here over an hour ago. He was meeting with a dealer to sell some of their stolen letters. They're good and they're real, so it should be a quick transaction.

Jack likes to chat, but this is a long time, even for him. Lee waves down the harried waitress for the check. Maybe Jack misunderstood their plan. Maybe he's waiting for her back at the apartment. Lee heads for the door. But as soon as she steps onto the busy street, a man in a dark suit skids to a stop. He stares at Lee in shock for a moment before saying, Lee?

Lee has never seen this guy before. For a second, she probably thinks he's a fan of the Lee Israel. And it turns out he is familiar with her work, but he's no fan. The man in the suit pulls out a badge. He's from the FBI. Okay, the only thing that comes close

to being worse than this is if someone were to come up to you and you think they recognize you from your work and they're kind of like, hey, can you get out of my way? Yeah, excuse me, do you need this chair? Ma'am, your credit card was declined. Well, the agent tells Lee that David, the autograph dealer, agreed to wear a wire during his meeting with Jack that morning.

So the feds listened in as Jack told a fun little story about stumbling onto another priceless letter. Well, not quite priceless, since he was looking to make a lot of cash from selling it. The FBI confronted Jack right there in the office, and with just a little threatening, they got him to spill the names of the school libraries Lee has been stealing from. Jack also spilled that Lee was nearby, waiting for him. So they set off to find her, to see if they could get her to talk.

Lee is too smart to get chatty without a lawyer. And since the FBI doesn't have a subpoena for her yet, Lee is free to go. But they warn her that they'll be in touch very, very soon. This is probably the scariest thing that could happen to Lee. And I feel like Lee is such a confident person, especially with the scam. Like, she knew exactly how to execute it,

exactly what people wanted. And she probably didn't even think far enough. Like, hey, what happens if I ever get caught? And when does this become so criminal that the FBI gets involved? Yeah. Well, Lee makes a beeline for her apartment. And once she gets there, she downs a bottle of scotch

while shredding evidence, including all the antique paper and research notes she kept on her various writers. She then spends all afternoon running up and down the stairs with bag after bag, ditching every typewriter and trash cans along Amsterdam Avenue. But it's too little, too late. Around 6 p.m., the agents show up at Lee's apartment

and serve her a subpoena. The FBI didn't need anything in Lee's apartment to charge her. They easily built a case against her thanks to evidence from Lee herself. When she entered those libraries to steal the letters, she used her own ID every single time. And when these libraries checked the letters

she had signed out for viewing, they all found forgeries. My god, I mean, that is just real dumb at the end. It's really, really a dumb way to get caught. And how do you lack that foresight of using your own name? It's like not even getting an accomplice to do it, not even finding a way to sneak in. Like your name's right there.

You may as well have confessed on camera. Yeah. And the other thing is the FBI wasn't actually super interested in Lee when she was just selling her fake letters. After all, they didn't think she was making that much money from them. But the real letters she stole,

they were worth closer to $20,000. Plus she transported them across state lines, and that makes her crimes way more serious. The FBI doesn't take Lee into custody while they prepare for trial, so she isn't in jail quite yet. She can't afford a fancy lawyer, so she uses her crack research skills to find a great public defender. This lawyer convinces Lee that the only way she can avoid jail time is to plead guilty. If she wants to save herself, Lee will need to echo the line she gave to Dorothy Parker

and ask for forgiveness. In court, Lee's lawyer explains how difficult the last decade has been for her. The judge learns all about Lee's drinking and how she's pushed everyone in her life away. For someone as prideful as Lee, having her desperation laid bare for the public record The judge learns all about Lee's drinking and how she's pushed everyone in her life away. For someone as prideful as Lee, having her desperation laid bare for the public record must be excruciating. Finally, the judge asks to hear the newest piece the great Lee Israel has written, an apology. Our smart and cheap public defender nods to Lee as she gets to her feet. Later, Lee will kind of shrug off this apology.

But it's hard not to feel bad for her here, standing under fluorescent lights so far from the swanky Manhattan restaurants and warm dive bars that she's called home. She's 53 and her life has gone terribly off the rails. She's got no one but Doris the cat and no one to blame but herself. Lee opens by telling the judge that she feels, quote,

enormous guilt about betraying her community and what she's done. And when she's finished, he gives her a pretty good review. He tells her she's clearly a smart woman and that she could be a very valuable member of her community if she stays out of trouble. He then sentences Lee to six months of house arrest. She also has to pay restitution

to the dealers she swindled. And in a final blow, the court demands that Lee attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings to deal with her addiction. She later says that she never does. I think this is just more proof that Lee knows exactly the right things to say, but can't really do it in practice. Like she's able to talk about her guilt and apologize in a way that seems sincere, because again, she's a very talented writer, but it's clear she doesn't really want to do any of that in practice.

Yeah. And after her wild 18-month crime spree, Lee is right back where she started. Alone in her apartment with her cat. It seems like Lee will spend the rest of her life drinking, moping, and wondering if the world will just forget about her. She must believe, still, that she deserves more than this. But if Lee can't be remembered as a great writer, she can still be remembered as a great criminal.

She has one final performance in her, and if she can nail it, she'll be more famous than ever. Fast forward to 2006. After more than 20 years, Lee is finally signing another book deal. Simon & Schuster is offering her a deal to write about the life and times of a famous American author, herself.

Oh, well, you know, second time's a charm, I guess. Well, since her conviction, Lee has been working quietly as a freelance editor for Scholastic. It's not exactly flashy material, but at least it's honest, educational work. Her accomplice, Jack, had died from complications from AIDS in 1994. He never served any time in jail either. As the years went by, the temptation to write her own story, to gloat about how she brilliantly scammed the highbrow world of literary memorabilia, was too much to resist.

She takes a pen to her contract, and with a flourish, she signs Lee Israel in big letters. No tracing or broken TV required. The book is fittingly brief, unapologetic, and pretty funny. And when it comes time to pick a title, she decides to reclaim her Dorothy Parker line. Can you ever forgive me? Honestly, good for her. Well, the book causes quite a stir in the literary world. Some reviewers think it's wrong for Simon and Schuster to let Lee profit off of her

crimes. Others wonder how much of the book can even be trusted. After all, she made a career out of lying. Lee soaks up the attention. She even goes on NPR and jokes about her crimes and the scandal. Here's a clip from the moment that the host, Madeleine Brand, asks Lee about whether or not she feels guilty. Did you ever think, this is just wrong, I can't do this anymore, I can't deceive people anymore,

I just can't bear this? Yes, yes. As soon as the FBI showed up. The thing about Lee is that she did scam, but she is honest about her own feelings and motivations. So I'm not really surprised by this response. Well, before long, Hollywood is interested in her story, too. And Lee starts getting invited to fancy lunches again.

Lee spends the rest of her life living in her same Upper West Side apartment, drinking, caring for her cat, and complaining. Lee dies in 2014 of cancer. And even at the end, she considers the letters her very best work. Four years later, the movie adaptation of her book premieres.

It receives rave reviews, and actress Melissa McCarthy is nominated for an Oscar for her portrayal of Lee. Before she died, Lee did get to see more of her forged letters go on sale. This time around, dealers told customers they were fake up front, because now the fact that they were genuine Lee Israel forgeries was a selling point. Sarah, I think what I have learned is that I should lie more as a writer? I thought you were already lying a bit. I'm actually not sure I'm lying enough. Oh. I think I'm telling too many of the truths

and I should be telling a few lies. Oh, okay. I'll let everyone know, because I've been like, yeah, of course she's, you know, adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that. But I'm sorry, I had no idea. Am I bad? What? You're an asshole.

This is a funny scam, because it's like, who's the victim? Is it somebody who has like thousands of dollars to pay for a Dorothy Parker letter? Is it the library? Yes. Is it like who has like thousands of dollars to pay for a Dorothy Parker letter? Is it the library? Yes. Is it like historical societies? It's not Lee and I don't actually think the people buying the letters, but I guess I would feel bad for the library.

What did the library do? You know, nothing. Yeah, I think it's a library and also I think it's like discrediting the system of archiving and what matters when it comes to archiving letters of real writers. And also, you know, the people who are dead, she changed their story. She might have not created entirely new narratives, but she added flourishes to people's lives

that they didn't approve of, which it's definitely a wrong thing to do. But I think this is like more a story about, not to get too real, but you know, the precarity of creative work and what it's like to be on top and those crazy highs and lows that creatives are constantly facing.

Lee is also somebody who just seemed to kind of act unpleasantly, and that also impacted her ability to work and be employed, you know? And so then she's like, okay, well, I'm a pill, so I'm going to pretend to be writers who kind of are notorious for that

and are now famous for it, but they're dead, and then leaned into it and was really good at it, I guess. This story makes me think of a lot of people who are preoccupied with their standing in literature or in media or amongst this community of writers and less about the actual work. And I think Lee really wanted to feel like she was a part of those spaces and this was her way of participating in it. And that is a dangerous game.

Tale as old as time, because people want power in any way they can, and, like, this is how nerds do it. Yeah. I guess that's the story of America. This is why you can't give nerds power. Once again, the lesson is you need a hobby. Learn how to paint. Yeah, or Mary Rich, you know?

Ugh, I'm never going to advocate for that. You know why. I'm willing to do that. I'm willing to give it all up. If you're listening, the three men who listen to this, someone marry Sarah, leave me alone. And I think that I'll... That's about it. That's it.

That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it.

That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. Loving scam influencers? Get exclusive episodes and early access to new ones all ad free on Wendree Plus. Join now in the Wendree app, Apple podcasts or Spotify. Before you go, help us out by taking a quick survey at wendree.com slash survey. This is Lee Israel, scammer she wrote. I'm Saatchi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagge. If you have a tip for us on a story that you think we should cover, please email us at

scamfluencers at wondery.com. We use many sources in our research. A few that were particularly helpful were Lee Israel's Can You Ever Forgive Me? as well as articles from the New York Times and The Guardian. Colleen Scriven wrote this episode. Additional writing by us, Saatchi Cole and Sarah Hagge. Olivia Brierley is our story editor. Fact checking by Lexi Peary.

Sound design by James Morgan. Additional audio assistance provided by Augustine Lim. Our music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Freesun Sing. Our managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Our senior managing producer is Callum Plouves. Janine Cornelow and Stephanie Jens are our development producers. Our associate producer is Desi Blaylock. Our senior managing producer is Callum Plouves. Janine Cornelow and Stephanie Jens are our development producers. Our associate producer is Charlotte Miller. Our producer is Julie McGruder.

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