By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
Fred Sawyers, 34, spent much of this harsh winter inside his rooms on the ground floor of a garden apartment complex in Indianapolis. A $24,000-a-year clerk at a direct-mail company, Sawyers has been battling leukemia and depression for several years. In seasons past he relieved his loneliness by chatting with Russell Harding, his longtime internet pen pal.
But the two men stopped communicating in the summer of 2001 when Harding became outraged that Sawyerswho had been given a free trip to New York by his cancer support groupmight finally try to meet him face to face.
"Aren't you ever going to fucking grow up," an irate Harding typed that day. "I've been better to you than anyone else ever has and this is how you repay me, by trying to corner me into letting you come to NYC. Forget it Fred, fucking forget it."
"The Lush Life of a Rudy Appointee: How a Politically Tied Aide Spent $250,000 on Food, Fun, and Travel"
"Harding's Hustle: Bonuses, Bargains, and Strip Clubs at the Housing Development Corporation"
"Low-Class Act: Russell Harding on Blacks, the Poor, and the Clintons"
"Bonus Baby: A Hefty Something Extra in Russell Harding's Last Paycheck"
"Harding's Conflict of Interest: After Pledging to Steer Clear of Dad's Law Firm, Son Aided a Client"
"Scandal Repair: As Harding Probe Continues, Cleanup Costs Grow"
"Russell Harding's Vanity Fair: 'Voice' Trail Led to Charges"
"The Harding Rules: In Scandal's Wake, New Safeguards at Housing Agency"
Harding too stayed holed up this winter, either at his East 62nd Street apartment or at his parents' country home in Columbia County. There, the 38-year-old Harding waited to see what would come of the dual city-federal investigation into allegations that he had misspent hundreds of thousands of dollars as head of a small but well-off city housing agency. Some of the leads investigators were pursuing had come to them via Sawyers, who kept copies of all his e-mails and online chats with Harding, as well as the packing slips from gifts Harding sent him, like the $360 DVD player that Harding had paid for with a credit card from the New York City Housing Development Corporation.
That purchase became one of the charges against Harding, the son of Liberal Party leader and Rudy Giuliani adviser Raymond Harding, when he was indicted last month on four counts of fraud against his former agency and two counts of receiving and possessing child pornography. Outside the courthouse, Harding, wearing a trace of a smile, stepped in front of the cameras as his attorney, Gerald Shargel, insisted on his client's innocence. In his apartment 750 miles away in Indianapolis, Sawyers let his answering machine pick up messages from reporters in New York calling to ask his thoughts about the indictment.
Harding at arraignment last month.
(photo: Keith Bedford)
He hadn't always been so ambivalent. In February 2002, vowing that no one else should be hurt as he had, Sawyers contacted a reporter Harding had once complained about. He told the reporter, who was already seeking Harding's expense records, what he knew about the official's wrongdoing. After the stories were published, law enforcement agents quickly contacted Sawyers.
In an e-mail the day after the indictment, Sawyers said he felt bad that Harding had spent money intended to help "people who don't have much" obtain better homes. It also hurt, he said, that in all of Harding's city-paid travels, he'd never bothered to look up his Indianapolis friend. "Other people were good enough to travel and do things with him, yet I wasn't good enough to even meet," Sawyers said.
He had come to believe that what Harding wanted most from him, Sawyers said, was help in finding young boys for sex, a subject Harding raised often in their chats, despite Sawyers's repeated refusals and requests that Harding not discuss it.
Still, he felt pangs of regret. "I can't help but feel in my heart that some of the things he did towards me were true acts of kindness," Sawyers said.
Fred Sawyers met Russell Harding in a chat room about old movies in late 1998, a few months after Giuliani appointed Harding to head the housing agency. They quickly became friends, albeit via cyberspace. The kindnesses came in e-mails and online chats, in which Harding often expressed affection for Sawyers and concern about his health. He also sent expensive gifts: the DVD player, a TV, and, on one occasion, $500 in cashwith Harding ordering Sawyers to destroy the envelope after he received it. Other times, Harding was distinctly manipulative. "No one will ever care about you the way I do Fred . . . no one!!" Harding wrote in one chat. "Always know that I'm the only one who cares about you."
Sawyers wanted to believe him. Deeply estranged from his own Southern Baptist family in Virginia, Sawyers said he felt he had found a real friendand hoped for more possibly down the road. But there was a palpable difference in their interactions. Russell's gifts consisted mainly of Internet mail order items, arranged with a few computer keystrokes and paid for with his agency's credit card. Fred's were elaborate, thoughtful presents bought with his own money. For Christmas in 1999, Sawyers sent his friend a framed original ad for Sunset Boulevarda Harding favoritesigned by director Billy Wilder, along with autographs of Gloria Swanson, William Holden, and Erich Von Stroheim. The items came from Sawyers's memorabilia collection, which he marketed on a Web site.