Is the Big Apple's eccentric party boy mayor rotten to the core? How Eric Adams rose from NYC cop to the city's top job... and is now accused of selling out his constituents to live in obscene luxury

When embattled New York City Mayor Eric Adams stepped outside his official residence on the upper east side of Manhattan on Thursday morning flanked by black community leaders – he was met by a wave of fury.

'You are a disgrace... abuse of power', shouted an irate man in the crowd.

The chant 'Resign! Resign! Resign!' drowned out the speakers.

A grim smile fixed to his face, Adams persevered.

He denied the five federal charges levelled against him in a staggering 57-page indictment: one count of bribery, wire fraud and conspiracy and two counts of soliciting a foreign nation for illegal campaign contributions.

On Friday, Adams pleaded not guilty.

But prosecutors with the Southern District of New York paint a damning picture.

They allege that Adams sat at the head of a nearly decade-long graft operation that corruptly raked in more than $100,000 in lavish gifts and bilked taxpayers out of $10 million of public funds.

To some, this may be the start of a stunning fall for a former New York Police officer turned successful politico, who shocked the establishment by narrowly defeating Democratic rivals to become chief executive of the greatest city in the world.

However, Adams's critics have long held doubts about the ex-cop with a coterie of shady characters and a penchant for the high life.

Adams, 64, was elected mayor in 2021 as the city was emerging from the wreckage of the COVID pandemic and the failed leadership of his deeply unpopular predecessor Democratic Mayor Bill de Blasio.

Labeled 'De Bozo' by detractors, Blasio oversaw a backslide to the dark days of Gotham.

He decriminalized littering, public urination and petty crimes. City residents watched helplessly as lawlessness exploded.

Adams – who retired from the NYPD as a captain – promised a return to law and order with a crackdown on crime and the motto 'get stuff done.'

He ramped up police patrols and even famously took on the leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement, who he accused of overlooking gun violence among their own neighbors to criticize the police.

'If Black lives matter, then the thousands of people I saw on the street when [George] Floyd was murdered should be on the streets right now stating that the lives of these Black children that are dying every night matter. We can't be hypocrites.' Adams said in April 2022.

That blunt talk won Adams allies on both sides of the political aisle.

But there was another side to the mayor that didn't match the stereotype of a serious public servant – a flashy party boy who reveled in his newfound celebrity.

Vowing to inject 'swagger' into City Hall, Adams often wore $2,000 custom-made suits, frequently changed outfits twice a day and flaunted an extensive collection of expensive watches and monogrammed cufflinks.

In 2022, Adams turned up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Met Gala sporting a tuxedo with intricate hand-drawn graphics on the lapels and down the black – emblazoned with the words 'End Gun Violence.'

Leaning into his quirky image, he sports a bracelet of fortifying 'energy-boosting' quartz crystals.

In a 2022 interview, he claimed the entire city was, in fact, built on a bedrock of these magical stones and they imbued all of Manhattan with 'a special energy.'

Health experts were quick to dismiss that as quackery.

Adams held court at high-end restaurants and made the sleek midtown Italian Osteria La Baia his 'unofficial office', once eating there 14 times in one month.

He repeatedly told people he was a vegan, insisted that a plant-based diet had cured his type-II diabetes and ordered schools to implement 'vegan Fridays' – even though he was caught dabbling in the occasional fish or chicken entrée.

Adams also was a regular of the big city's nightlife – a member of the exclusive $4,400-a-year Zero Bond club in Manhattan's Noho.

He partied there with the glitterati – like supermodel Naomi Campbell, Grammy-winning musician Jon Batiste and Hollywood agent Cade Hudson – into the wee hours of the morning.

One could have gotten the impression that Adams had made it – having risen from a New York City Transit cop to the NYPD captain, before being elected state senator, then Brooklyn Borough President and, finally, mayor.

But all that glistered wasn't gold.

From the start, Adams's tendency to fill important, high-paying city jobs with close associates and family members raised significant concerns.

In January 2022, he tapped his younger brother Bernard, then a 56-year-old retired NYPD sergeant and current assistant director of campus parking at a small Virginia college, to serve as deputy police commissioner on a salary of $240,000 a year.

Ethics groups howled over the obvious nepotism and Adams backpedaled, attempting to install his baby brother as his head of security with a reduced salary of $210,000.

That, too, was blocked by the New York Conflicts of Interest Board.

Bernard settled for a role as a senior adviser to the mayor's office for $1 a year.

In a glaring example of the incestuous nature of Adams's administration, he hired his longtime friend Phillip Banks to be deputy mayor of public safety and Banks's brother David was named Chancellor of Schools.

In December 2022, Phillip's wife Sheena Wright was made first deputy mayor.

But as of September 2024, Phillip, David, Sheena and another Bank's brother, Terrance, are involved in a federal investigation that reportedly centers on a possible bribery scheme involving Terrance's consulting firm.

There are no charges in this probe, but David Banks said he will resign from his position as chancellor in December.

In all, there are at least four federal investigations underway into the Adams's administration – including his own probe.

Adams's police commissioner, Edward Caban, resigned this month amid a reported investigation into whether he and his brother, James, doled out favors to nightclubs in return for cash kickbacks.

In February 2024, police raided the home of a senior adviser to Adams, Winnie Greco, the mayor's director of Asian affairs and a prominent campaign fundraiser.

Adams's current troubles first burst into public view in early November 2023 when the FBI raided the home of his 25-year-old chief fund-raiser.

Law enforcement also searched the residence of Cenk Öcal, a former Turkish Airlines executive and member of the mayor's transition team, among others.

Days later, agents confiscated Adams's digital devices – with the feds dramatically brushing past the mayor's security team and jumping in his SUV to make the seizure.

When they got their hands on Adams's iPhone, he admitted to having recently changed the 4-digit passcode to a 6-digit combination.

The indictment alleges that Adams claimed he did so to ensure that his staff didn't access his phone to delete any documents.

But when asked to reveal the 6-digit code, Adams purportedly said that he'd forgotten it.

The government's case largely focuses on alleged illegal campaign contributions that Turkish businessman funneled to Adams's campaign through straw donors to circumvent laws that prevent foreigners from giving to American political candidates.

A straw donor is someone who illegally uses another person's money to make a political contribution in their name.

Adams is also accused of accepting non-disclosed gifts from Turkish individuals and people in the Turkish government, to include lavish meals, luxury hotel rooms and first-class flights to France, China, Sri Lanka, India, Hungary and Turkey.

This was allegedly done in exchange for political favors only a mayor could offer.

In one such case, prosecutors claim Adams pressured the New York City Fire Department to allow Turkey's new 36-story glass consulate to open in time for a visit by Turkey's president, despite concerns that it was a fire hazard.

'In Sept. 2021 [a Turkish official] told Eric Adams, the defendant, that it was his turn to repay the Turkish official by pressuring the New York City Fire Department to facilitate the opening of a new Turkish consular building,' the indictment states.

'Adams did as instructed,' it concludes.

The indictment comes off the back of a months-long investigation and even Adams himself claimed to have seen it coming, telling the crowd outside Gracie Mansion on Thursday: 'We are not surprised. We expected this.'

And given his penchant for the bizarre, with his crystals, swagger and monogrammed cufflinks, such an unusual twist in his political career is perhaps not unexpected.

But the length and breadth of the allegations contained within the indictment cannot fail to shock even those who have followed the case closely.

What remains to be seen is how Adams will be remembered by future New Yorkers, and whether one of his most memorable promises will come true: 'I'm like broccoli', he said in 2022, 'You're going to hate me now, but you're going to love me later.'