Albany Power Broker’s China Scandal Stuns New York—Mistrial Sparks Outrage

Paul Riverbank, 12/23/2025Albany insider Linda Sun’s mistrial entangles New York in a high-stakes China corruption scandal.

Nineteen felonies cast a long shadow over Sun. The list was dizzying: acting as an agent of China, wire fraud, bribery, money laundering, even forging state records. For days, the twelve jurors turned the evidence over in their minds, each side unmoving, until Judge Brian Cogan had no choice but to call it. “The jurors’ positions are firmly held,” read the last note from the jury box, summing up the impasse with all the weariness of a group that had spent five days locked in deliberation, one holiday-travel alternate swapped in and all.

Prosecutors were unequivocal. In their telling, Sun, a community liaison turned political operator, went from Albany’s corridors to Beijing’s wish list, working the levers of power for China’s benefit and her own. Steering state connections away from Taiwan, cozying up to consular staff, and — perhaps most damning — using the governor’s signature to smooth the way for fake visas, allegedly for visiting Chinese officials. The way U.S. Attorney Alex Solomon put it: “Linda Sun was all about the money. The Chinese government kept her close, with a steady stream of presents, favors, and helping hands.”

Some of the evidence was hard to swallow — or perhaps, in Sun’s case, hard not to. On one hand, text exchanges showed her joking with Consul Huang Ping about six Nanjing-style salted ducks, a culinary rarity in New York. “Well, I eat it as a midnight snack,” she texted back, emoji and all. After arranging for then-Lt. Gov. Hochul to record a Lunar New Year message, she boasted privately about the lieutenant governor’s compliance compared to her boss: “She is much more obedient than the governor.” Then, in another moment of bravado, a quip about winning a “China-U.S. Friendship Award.” It all seemed almost too personal, too glib — until you followed the trail.

The accusations reached beyond duck and banter. Prosecutors pointed to Sun’s family: a $3.6 million house in Manhasset, another in Honolulu, a Ferrari out front, closets full of designer handbags. Her official salary barely cracked $145,000, and her husband’s lobster business operated in the red. So, where was the money coming from?

Defense attorneys pushed back, incredulous. “To say that Linda did what the government said she did for salted ducks is as absurd as it sounds,” protested Kenneth Abell, articulating what for some observers was the most jarring part of the case. What, exactly, counts as a bribe — and what’s just an overzealous liaison building relationships, as her job required? No damning emails, no secret recordings; just a friendly text here, a photo op there. “There’s no smoking gun,” Abell insisted.

Sun’s climb through Albany began in 2012, and she worked her way from community relations up to deputy chief of staff, before a stint over at the state Labor Department. Her state career ended abruptly last year, after an internal review alleged she’d issued unauthorized ceremonial proclamations — often to family and friends.

Despite five days of exhaustive (and, by many accounts, exasperated) deliberation, the jury simply couldn’t break the deadlock. With a new trial tentatively set for February, prosecutors aren’t walking away. “The government wants to retry the case as soon as possible,” said Solomon, sounding neither discouraged nor overconfident.

Sun and her supporters are taking the hung jury as a win — or at least an ambiguous draw. The split, they argue, is proof positive the government’s charges were muddier than they appeared. “The inability of dedicated jurors to reach a unanimous verdict on all counts, despite days of conscientious deliberation, underscores just how questionable and flawed these charges are,” said Jarrod Schaeffer, one of Sun’s lawyers.

Yet the broader stakes are hard to ignore. The case, for all its details — ducks, handbags, million-dollar homes, midnight texts — offers a sharp reminder of the fine line public servants must navigate when engaging with foreign governments. Is handing over a gift a matter of courtesy, or quid pro quo? Is a friendly message criminal, if it’s sent to the wrong number? When public trust is on the line, and international suspicion runs high, these are the questions that mix politics and law, custom and crime, and often, in the end, leave more questions than answers.

It’s not every day a courtroom in Brooklyn becomes ground zero for intrigue swirling at the highest rungs of New York politics, but for Linda Sun, that’s exactly what happened. The former insider for both Governor Kathy Hochul and ex-Governor Andrew Cuomo found herself, over the course of a tense week, at the losing end of a mistrial declaration, with jurors stuck fast — unable to agree on whether Sun’s career was fueled by cunning diplomacy or outright corruption.Nineteen felonies cast a long shadow over Sun. The list was dizzying: acting as an agent of China, wire fraud, bribery, money laundering, even forging state records. For days, the twelve jurors turned the evidence over in their minds, each side unmoving, until Judge Brian Cogan had no choice but to call it. “The jurors’ positions are firmly held,” read the last note from the jury box, summing up the impasse with all the weariness of a group that had spent five days locked in deliberation, one holiday-travel alternate swapped in and all.Prosecutors were unequivocal. In their telling, Sun, a community liaison turned political operator, went from Albany’s corridors to Beijing’s wish list, working the levers of power for China’s benefit and her own. Steering state connections away from Taiwan, cozying up to consular staff, and — perhaps most damning — using the governor’s signature to smooth the way for fake visas, allegedly for visiting Chinese officials. The way U.S. Attorney Alex Solomon put it: “Linda Sun was all about the money. The Chinese government kept her close, with a steady stream of presents, favors, and helping hands.”Some of the evidence was hard to swallow — or perhaps, in Sun’s case, hard not to. On one hand, text exchanges showed her joking with Consul Huang Ping about six Nanjing-style salted ducks, a culinary rarity in New York. “Well, I eat it as a midnight snack,” she texted back, emoji and all. After arranging for then-Lt. Gov. Hochul to record a Lunar New Year message, she boasted privately about the lieutenant governor’s compliance compared to her boss: “She is much more obedient than the governor.” Then, in another moment of bravado, a quip about winning a “China-U.S. Friendship Award.” It all seemed almost too personal, too glib — until you followed the trail.The accusations reached beyond duck and banter. Prosecutors pointed to Sun’s family: a $3.6 million house in Manhasset, another in Honolulu, a Ferrari out front, closets full of designer handbags. Her official salary barely cracked $145,000, and her husband’s lobster business operated in the red. So, where was the money coming from?Defense attorneys pushed back, incredulous. “To say that Linda did what the government said she did for salted ducks is as absurd as it sounds,” protested Kenneth Abell, articulating what for some observers was the most jarring part of the case. What, exactly, counts as a bribe — and what’s just an overzealous liaison building relationships, as her job required? No damning emails, no secret recordings; just a friendly text here, a photo op there. “There’s no smoking gun,” Abell insisted.Sun’s climb through Albany began in 2012, and she worked her way from community relations up to deputy chief of staff, before a stint over at the state Labor Department. Her state career ended abruptly last year, after an internal review alleged she’d issued unauthorized ceremonial proclamations — often to family and friends.Despite five days of exhaustive (and, by many accounts, exasperated) deliberation, the jury simply couldn’t break the deadlock. With a new trial tentatively set for February, prosecutors aren’t walking away. “The government wants to retry the case as soon as possible,” said Solomon, sounding neither discouraged nor overconfident.Sun and her supporters are taking the hung jury as a win — or at least an ambiguous draw. The split, they argue, is proof positive the government’s charges were muddier than they appeared. “The inability of dedicated jurors to reach a unanimous verdict on all counts, despite days of conscientious deliberation, underscores just how questionable and flawed these charges are,” said Jarrod Schaeffer, one of Sun’s lawyers.Yet the broader stakes are hard to ignore. The case, for all its details — ducks, handbags, million-dollar homes, midnight texts — offers a sharp reminder of the fine line public servants must navigate when engaging with foreign governments. Is handing over a gift a matter of courtesy, or quid pro quo? Is a friendly message criminal, if it’s sent to the wrong number? When public trust is on the line, and international suspicion runs high, these are the questions that mix politics and law, custom and crime, and often, in the end, leave more questions than answers.