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Code of silence
U.S. Accuses 2 Rabbis of
Kidnapping Husbands
for a Fee
By JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN and
MICHAEL SCHWIRTZ
October 10, 2013
While it’s common for rabbis to
take action against defiant
husbands, such as barring them
from synagogue life, Rabbi
Epstein, 68, took matters much
further, according to the
authorities.
For hefty fees, he orchestrated
the kidnapping and torture of
reluctant husbands, charging their
wives as much as $10,000 for a
rabbinical decree permitting
violence and $50,000 to hire
others to carry out the deed,
according to federal charges
unsealed on Thursday morning.
Rabbi Epstein, along with another
rabbi, Martin Wolmark, who is the
head of a yeshiva, as well as
several men in what the
authorities called the “kidnap
team,” appeared in Federal
District Court in Trenton after a
sting operation in which an
undercover federal agent posed
as an Orthodox Jewish woman
soliciting Rabbi Epstein’s services.
Paul Fishman, the United States
attorney for New Jersey, said in an
interview that investigators have
“uncovered evidence” of about a
couple dozen victims. Many are
men from Brooklyn who were
taken to New Jersey as part of the
kidnappings.
In court, the lead prosecutor in the
case, R. Joseph Gribko, explained
how the abductions were carried
out. “They beat them up, tied them
up, shocked them with Tasers and
stun guns until they got what they
want,” Mr. Gribko, an assistant
United States attorney, said.
Mr. Gribko said the defendants
had been motivated by money, not
faith. While the case might
surprise some New Yorkers,
accounts of such kidnappings
have percolated through the
Orthodox Jewish community in
Brooklyn for years. In 1996, for
instance, a rabbinic council in
Williamsburg issued a statement
denouncing the rogue men who
subjected husbands to such
beatings, according to a news
report.
Rabbi Epstein was sued in the late
1990s by another Brooklyn rabbi,
Abraham Rubin, who claimed that
a group of men shoved him into a
van as he left synagogue, hooded
him, and applied electric shocks to
his genitals in an effort to force
him to provide a get to his wife.
The lawsuit was dismissed.
According to newspaper accounts
from the late 90s, other men, too,
have come forward with similar
tales of curbside abductions and
mistreatment.
How such violent practices, if
proved, would have been able to
persist for so long may be an
indicator of the challenges that
local law enforcement agencies
face in trying conduct
investigations of insular religious
groups including the ultra-
Orthodox.
Rabbi Epstein seemed
confident that local authorities
wouldn’t investigate too
closely. In a recorded meeting
with the female undercover F.
B.I. agent, Rabbi Epstein
explained that his preferred
torture techniques, like
electric shocks, offered little
physical evidence of abuse,
according to the complaint.
Without obvious visible
injuries, Rabbi Epstein said,
the police were unlikely to
inquire too deeply if any
victims came forward.
“Basically the reaction of the
police is, if the guy does not have
a mark on him then, uh, is there
some Jewish crazy affair here,
they don’t want to get involved,”
Rabbi Epstein explained,
according to the criminal complaint.
Rabbi Epstein made his living
appearing before the
rabbinical courts, known as
beit din, where he advocated
on behalf of a spouse seeking
an exit, another rabbi said. He
took a special interest in the
constraints that wives faced,
speaking about the rights of
women in terms not often heard in
his deeply conservative
community.
When two undercover F.B.I.
agents — one posing as a woman
seeking a divorce, the other as
her brother — asked a rabbi for
help, the rabbi explained how
Rabbi Epstein might be able to
assist them.
“You need special rabbis who
are going to take this thing
and see it through to the end,”
Rabbi Martin Wolmark, a
respected figure who presides
over a yeshiva in Monsey, N.Y.,
said in a recorded telephone call
on Aug. 7. He described Rabbi
Epstein as “a hired hand” who
could help, according to the
criminal complaint in the case.
When the undercover agents met
with Rabbi Epstein a week later,
he said that he was confident he
could secure a get once his
“tough guys” had made their
threats.
“I guarantee you that if you’re in
the van, you’d give a get to your
wife,” he said to the male
undercover agent posing as the
brother. “You probably love your
wife, but you’d give a get when
they finish with you.”
The undercover female F.B.I.
agent told Rabbi Epstein that she
wanted to divorce her husband,
described as a businessman in
South America, who refused to
grant her request. Rabbi Epstein
urged her to lure the man to New
Jersey, which she pledged to do.
Next Rabbi Epstein and Rabbi
Wolmark convened their own
rabbinical court, complete with
legalisms and formalities, to
issue a religious edict
“authorizing the use of
violence to obtain a forced
get,” according to court
records. The undercover
agent offered testimony
before the two rabbis, who
were joined by other religious
figures.
Told that the husband was arriving
in New Jersey, eight of Rabbi
Epstein’s associates met at a New
Jersey warehouse to finalize the
kidnapping plan, according to
court documents. At that point F.B.
I. agents moved in to arrest the
group. The agents seized masks,
ropes, scalpels and feather quills
and ink bottles used for recording
the get they anticipated.
On Thursday, the 10 defendants
were denied bail after appearing
in court in Trenton on the
kidnapping conspiracy charges.
Juda J. Epstein, the lawyer for
Rabbi Epstein, declined to
comment.
A neighbor, Rose Davis, who
lives opposite his home in the
Kensington section of
Brooklyn described him as a
respected figure. Ms. Davis said
she was skeptical of the charges,
and suggested they might be the
concoctions of enemies he had
made as an expert in divorce
work: “There’s always a loser,”
she said, referring to divorce
cases.
Jon Hurdle and Alex Vadukul
contributed reporting. Susan Beachy
and Jack Begg contributed research.
A version of this article appears in print
on October 11, 2013, on page A18 of
the New York edition with the headline:
U.S. Accuses 2 Rabbis of Kidnapping
Husbands for a Fee.
Kidnapping Husbands
for a Fee
By JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN and
MICHAEL SCHWIRTZ
October 10, 2013
While it’s common for rabbis to
take action against defiant
husbands, such as barring them
from synagogue life, Rabbi
Epstein, 68, took matters much
further, according to the
authorities.
For hefty fees, he orchestrated
the kidnapping and torture of
reluctant husbands, charging their
wives as much as $10,000 for a
rabbinical decree permitting
violence and $50,000 to hire
others to carry out the deed,
according to federal charges
unsealed on Thursday morning.
Rabbi Epstein, along with another
rabbi, Martin Wolmark, who is the
head of a yeshiva, as well as
several men in what the
authorities called the “kidnap
team,” appeared in Federal
District Court in Trenton after a
sting operation in which an
undercover federal agent posed
as an Orthodox Jewish woman
soliciting Rabbi Epstein’s services.
Paul Fishman, the United States
attorney for New Jersey, said in an
interview that investigators have
“uncovered evidence” of about a
couple dozen victims. Many are
men from Brooklyn who were
taken to New Jersey as part of the
kidnappings.
In court, the lead prosecutor in the
case, R. Joseph Gribko, explained
how the abductions were carried
out. “They beat them up, tied them
up, shocked them with Tasers and
stun guns until they got what they
want,” Mr. Gribko, an assistant
United States attorney, said.
Mr. Gribko said the defendants
had been motivated by money, not
faith. While the case might
surprise some New Yorkers,
accounts of such kidnappings
have percolated through the
Orthodox Jewish community in
Brooklyn for years. In 1996, for
instance, a rabbinic council in
Williamsburg issued a statement
denouncing the rogue men who
subjected husbands to such
beatings, according to a news
report.
Rabbi Epstein was sued in the late
1990s by another Brooklyn rabbi,
Abraham Rubin, who claimed that
a group of men shoved him into a
van as he left synagogue, hooded
him, and applied electric shocks to
his genitals in an effort to force
him to provide a get to his wife.
The lawsuit was dismissed.
According to newspaper accounts
from the late 90s, other men, too,
have come forward with similar
tales of curbside abductions and
mistreatment.
How such violent practices, if
proved, would have been able to
persist for so long may be an
indicator of the challenges that
local law enforcement agencies
face in trying conduct
investigations of insular religious
groups including the ultra-
Orthodox.
Rabbi Epstein seemed
confident that local authorities
wouldn’t investigate too
closely. In a recorded meeting
with the female undercover F.
B.I. agent, Rabbi Epstein
explained that his preferred
torture techniques, like
electric shocks, offered little
physical evidence of abuse,
according to the complaint.
Without obvious visible
injuries, Rabbi Epstein said,
the police were unlikely to
inquire too deeply if any
victims came forward.
“Basically the reaction of the
police is, if the guy does not have
a mark on him then, uh, is there
some Jewish crazy affair here,
they don’t want to get involved,”
Rabbi Epstein explained,
according to the criminal complaint.
Rabbi Epstein made his living
appearing before the
rabbinical courts, known as
beit din, where he advocated
on behalf of a spouse seeking
an exit, another rabbi said. He
took a special interest in the
constraints that wives faced,
speaking about the rights of
women in terms not often heard in
his deeply conservative
community.
When two undercover F.B.I.
agents — one posing as a woman
seeking a divorce, the other as
her brother — asked a rabbi for
help, the rabbi explained how
Rabbi Epstein might be able to
assist them.
“You need special rabbis who
are going to take this thing
and see it through to the end,”
Rabbi Martin Wolmark, a
respected figure who presides
over a yeshiva in Monsey, N.Y.,
said in a recorded telephone call
on Aug. 7. He described Rabbi
Epstein as “a hired hand” who
could help, according to the
criminal complaint in the case.
When the undercover agents met
with Rabbi Epstein a week later,
he said that he was confident he
could secure a get once his
“tough guys” had made their
threats.
“I guarantee you that if you’re in
the van, you’d give a get to your
wife,” he said to the male
undercover agent posing as the
brother. “You probably love your
wife, but you’d give a get when
they finish with you.”
The undercover female F.B.I.
agent told Rabbi Epstein that she
wanted to divorce her husband,
described as a businessman in
South America, who refused to
grant her request. Rabbi Epstein
urged her to lure the man to New
Jersey, which she pledged to do.
Next Rabbi Epstein and Rabbi
Wolmark convened their own
rabbinical court, complete with
legalisms and formalities, to
issue a religious edict
“authorizing the use of
violence to obtain a forced
get,” according to court
records. The undercover
agent offered testimony
before the two rabbis, who
were joined by other religious
figures.
Told that the husband was arriving
in New Jersey, eight of Rabbi
Epstein’s associates met at a New
Jersey warehouse to finalize the
kidnapping plan, according to
court documents. At that point F.B.
I. agents moved in to arrest the
group. The agents seized masks,
ropes, scalpels and feather quills
and ink bottles used for recording
the get they anticipated.
On Thursday, the 10 defendants
were denied bail after appearing
in court in Trenton on the
kidnapping conspiracy charges.
Juda J. Epstein, the lawyer for
Rabbi Epstein, declined to
comment.
A neighbor, Rose Davis, who
lives opposite his home in the
Kensington section of
Brooklyn described him as a
respected figure. Ms. Davis said
she was skeptical of the charges,
and suggested they might be the
concoctions of enemies he had
made as an expert in divorce
work: “There’s always a loser,”
she said, referring to divorce
cases.
Jon Hurdle and Alex Vadukul
contributed reporting. Susan Beachy
and Jack Begg contributed research.
A version of this article appears in print
on October 11, 2013, on page A18 of
the New York edition with the headline:
U.S. Accuses 2 Rabbis of Kidnapping
Husbands for a Fee.
We seem to have a problem with a "code of silence" in our
schools
We seem to have a problem with "a code of silence" in our schools, and not just on
the athletic fields, as seen in the Scott Eveland case. Kudos to those who had the
courage to tell the truth about what happened to Scotty. Sadly, teachers also lie to
cover-up wrongdoing by other teachers. And perhaps the biggest, and most harmful,
cover-up of all is the effort to conceal the student test scores of teachers.
What Does It Take to Break the Athlete's Code of Silence?
By Bruce Anderson
The Atlantic
Apr 24 2012
Sports has an unwritten "no snitching" rule, but it comes at a price.
Ty Cobb called George "Buck" Weaver the best third baseman he had ever seen.
But when the switch-hitting, sweet-fielding Weaver is remembered today, if he's
remembered at all, it is for being a member of the Chicago Black Sox, the eight
players who conspired to throw the 1919 World Series, nearly derailing the national
pastime just before it reached its Golden Age. Weaver, like his seven teammates,
was banned from baseball for life by Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis. But
Weaver alone was banished not for taking money from gamblers or playing less than
his best but for knowing the fix was in and not coming forward, for possessing "guilty
knowledge."
How much truth is there in the notion, popularized by JFK, that "The only thing
necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"?
Because doing nothing is exactly what's expected in sports, where a version of the
Mafia's omerta, or code of silence, holds sway. Snitching runs completely counter to
the accepted notion of taking one for the team. Better to let a grounder roll under
your glove in the 10th inning than to let slip the fact that your teammate's bat is
corked.
Rare is the sports scandal, whether it's blood doping on the Tour de France or
Tiger's sex life, in which complicit silence does not lie at or near the heart of events. It
played a key role in the NFL's Bountygate. And in last fall's nightmare at Penn State.
If baseball's antisnitching poster boy is not Weaver, it's Greg Anderson, the longtime
friend of and personal trainer for Barry Bonds. Anderson was willing to spend time
behind bars rather than testify against his friend. The blind loyalty of see no evil,
hear no evil, speak no evil can give lots of cover for doing evil.
MORE ON SPORTS Should Fans Care About the Saints' Bounty Scandal? Joe
Paterno's Disappointing Last Decade at Penn State The Barry Bonds Trial: Was It
Worth It? An Open Letter to Lance Armstrong's Lawyers
Nancy Sherman is a professor of philosophy at Georgetown University and the
author of the 2010 book The Untold War, which examines the ethical quandaries of
the modern soldier. She was brought to the U.S. Naval Academy in the wake of a
scandal in the 1990s that saw 133 midshipmen accused of cheating on a third-year
electrical engineering exam or covering up for those who did. Sherman came to
Annapolis to help midshipmen understand, as she puts it, "that the ship comes
before shipmate."
Sherman doesn't underestimate how powerful the pressures can be for young men
and women to remain silent. "So much in the life of a midshipman or an officer hangs
on covering each other's back," Sherman says. "Building a cadre, developing esprit
de corps, fighting for each other are all drilled in. So is loyalty and fighting against
ratting, snitching—the less-charged term is whistle-blowing." She notes that when
money and careers are at stake—and they usually are—the silence becomes even
more pronounced.
No less a personage than Charles Barkley, commenting on the Saints' bounty
program recently, said: "You have to be a punk to snitch that out." When the Round
Mound of Expound, Expand, and Expatiate is speaking out against speaking out, the
expectation for silence prevails.
Given all the forces in play, is it possible to get athletes to reconsider the code of
silence? Sherman thinks so, but says that it requires getting athletes to consider their
behavior beforehand, to develop what she calls a "moral imagination." At the Naval
Academy, Sherman designed a military ethics course that is now required for every
midshipman. She also laid the groundwork for the Vice Admiral James B. Stockdale
Center for Ethical Leadership.
"It sounds a bit simple-minded, but it requires a lot of serious reflection and
leadership and thinking about what kind of individual do you want to be," Sherman
says. "Often, in the case of sports and athletic scandals, you don't think about what
the moral toll is, just will your conscience hurt tomorrow."
Silence isn't always golden. One wonders if Buck Weaver would have remained quiet
if he could have clearly seen the years of not playing or coaching stretching out
before him. What would he have done if he truly understood the loss of income,
prestige, and face that would be his price for silence? Or if he could have pictured
the almost irreparable damage the Series fix did to the game he loved so much?
Would Buck Weaver, like Joe Paterno, have wished he had done more?
schools
We seem to have a problem with "a code of silence" in our schools, and not just on
the athletic fields, as seen in the Scott Eveland case. Kudos to those who had the
courage to tell the truth about what happened to Scotty. Sadly, teachers also lie to
cover-up wrongdoing by other teachers. And perhaps the biggest, and most harmful,
cover-up of all is the effort to conceal the student test scores of teachers.
What Does It Take to Break the Athlete's Code of Silence?
By Bruce Anderson
The Atlantic
Apr 24 2012
Sports has an unwritten "no snitching" rule, but it comes at a price.
Ty Cobb called George "Buck" Weaver the best third baseman he had ever seen.
But when the switch-hitting, sweet-fielding Weaver is remembered today, if he's
remembered at all, it is for being a member of the Chicago Black Sox, the eight
players who conspired to throw the 1919 World Series, nearly derailing the national
pastime just before it reached its Golden Age. Weaver, like his seven teammates,
was banned from baseball for life by Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis. But
Weaver alone was banished not for taking money from gamblers or playing less than
his best but for knowing the fix was in and not coming forward, for possessing "guilty
knowledge."
How much truth is there in the notion, popularized by JFK, that "The only thing
necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"?
Because doing nothing is exactly what's expected in sports, where a version of the
Mafia's omerta, or code of silence, holds sway. Snitching runs completely counter to
the accepted notion of taking one for the team. Better to let a grounder roll under
your glove in the 10th inning than to let slip the fact that your teammate's bat is
corked.
Rare is the sports scandal, whether it's blood doping on the Tour de France or
Tiger's sex life, in which complicit silence does not lie at or near the heart of events. It
played a key role in the NFL's Bountygate. And in last fall's nightmare at Penn State.
If baseball's antisnitching poster boy is not Weaver, it's Greg Anderson, the longtime
friend of and personal trainer for Barry Bonds. Anderson was willing to spend time
behind bars rather than testify against his friend. The blind loyalty of see no evil,
hear no evil, speak no evil can give lots of cover for doing evil.
MORE ON SPORTS Should Fans Care About the Saints' Bounty Scandal? Joe
Paterno's Disappointing Last Decade at Penn State The Barry Bonds Trial: Was It
Worth It? An Open Letter to Lance Armstrong's Lawyers
Nancy Sherman is a professor of philosophy at Georgetown University and the
author of the 2010 book The Untold War, which examines the ethical quandaries of
the modern soldier. She was brought to the U.S. Naval Academy in the wake of a
scandal in the 1990s that saw 133 midshipmen accused of cheating on a third-year
electrical engineering exam or covering up for those who did. Sherman came to
Annapolis to help midshipmen understand, as she puts it, "that the ship comes
before shipmate."
Sherman doesn't underestimate how powerful the pressures can be for young men
and women to remain silent. "So much in the life of a midshipman or an officer hangs
on covering each other's back," Sherman says. "Building a cadre, developing esprit
de corps, fighting for each other are all drilled in. So is loyalty and fighting against
ratting, snitching—the less-charged term is whistle-blowing." She notes that when
money and careers are at stake—and they usually are—the silence becomes even
more pronounced.
No less a personage than Charles Barkley, commenting on the Saints' bounty
program recently, said: "You have to be a punk to snitch that out." When the Round
Mound of Expound, Expand, and Expatiate is speaking out against speaking out, the
expectation for silence prevails.
Given all the forces in play, is it possible to get athletes to reconsider the code of
silence? Sherman thinks so, but says that it requires getting athletes to consider their
behavior beforehand, to develop what she calls a "moral imagination." At the Naval
Academy, Sherman designed a military ethics course that is now required for every
midshipman. She also laid the groundwork for the Vice Admiral James B. Stockdale
Center for Ethical Leadership.
"It sounds a bit simple-minded, but it requires a lot of serious reflection and
leadership and thinking about what kind of individual do you want to be," Sherman
says. "Often, in the case of sports and athletic scandals, you don't think about what
the moral toll is, just will your conscience hurt tomorrow."
Silence isn't always golden. One wonders if Buck Weaver would have remained quiet
if he could have clearly seen the years of not playing or coaching stretching out
before him. What would he have done if he truly understood the loss of income,
prestige, and face that would be his price for silence? Or if he could have pictured
the almost irreparable damage the Series fix did to the game he loved so much?
Would Buck Weaver, like Joe Paterno, have wished he had done more?