Corruption Scandal Rocks Adams Administration: Top Aide Indicted in Federal Sting

Paul Riverbank, 1/14/2026Top Adams aide indicted for bribery and fraud, deepening City Hall's corruption crisis.

The authorities contend Herbert’s maneuvering extended from the fluorescent-lit offices of NYCHA to the odd street corner, where a handshake might mean more than civic courtesy. According to prosecutors, he raked in $36,000 across three schemes, one of which involved allegedly shepherding a city contract to a favored security firm. Not inside a boardroom but outside his own doorway, cash reportedly changed hands—no ceremony, just the rhythm of transaction. In conversation secretly recorded by law enforcement, Herbert’s tone was almost casual, referring to a company boss as someone who could “be helpful come election time.” One wonders if anyone believed, in those moments, that nobody would listen.

There’s a certain texture to the indictment’s language—“repeatedly and flagrantly”—reminding readers just how flagrant, and frequent, the conduct is alleged to have been. Details surface: for $16,000, Herbert allegedly pressed for contract work at housing projects, invoking the needs of city seniors as leverage. The supposed defense of the vulnerable as a bargaining chip—rarely a look that ages well under scrutiny.

But the seams don’t end there. There’s the business with the funeral home, where Herbert, prosecutors say, traded official influence for another envelope. Low-income families, seeking burial services for loved ones, entered the story as unwitting cast members in a drama that was never theirs to write. It’s difficult to read that passage of the indictment and not shiver: public trust, twisted to feed private gain.

Before City Hall, before the bribes, another thread: Herbert’s bakery. Not a bakery of flour and ovens, but of ink—a creation for federal COVID relief paperwork. Prosecutors allege Herbert pocketed more than $20,000 in loans through this invented story. Somewhere along the line, every crumb of credibility was spent.

The case sprawls across years—2022 to 2025—suggesting a pattern unbroken by department meetings or shifting administrations. “Blatant,” U.S. Attorney Jay Clayton called it, describing a public servant using his post as a lever, not for the people he was supposed to serve but for himself.

There are echoes here, familiar to anyone who’s watched New York power from the sidelines. Herbert’s public downfall doesn’t occur in a vacuum. Several other aides in the Adams orbit have also attracted federal gaze, each revelation dulling public confidence another shade. Former mayor Adams himself tasted the edge of indictment, though that chapter closed without charges sticking.

The story’s end remains unwritten. Herbert has been charged on six federal counts—bribery, fraud, extortion—the sort of words that allow little room for ambiguity. He sits in custody, city lawyers tight-lipped, and the city’s political class once again fends off fresh bruises to its image.

Some may remember that Herbert’s October exit came after inflammatory online commentary, a self-inflicted wound which only foreshadowed greater troubles. His dismissal, once a footnote, now reads as prelude.

What resonates most is the sense of erosion. Each new detail clouds expectations of integrity at City Hall. For New Yorkers, the question isn’t just who took what, or when, but if the churn will ever end. Federal proceedings crawl on; headlines will do as headlines tend to: fade, replaced by whatever the next morning brings.

Still, as this case lumbers through the courts, a city looks on—not with shock, perhaps, but with fatigue, hungry as ever for public servants who believe in the first word in their job title.

If you walked past City Hall last Tuesday, the usual thrum of government life might not have hinted at what was unfolding a few streets over. But in a Manhattan courthouse, Anthony Herbert—once confidante to former mayor Eric Adams—was being confronted by a stack of federal allegations thicker than any city memo. For those who’d followed Herbert’s career, the news fell somewhere between disorienting surprise and a certain resignation, as details spilled out: bribery, wire fraud, outright inventions of businesses, all allegedly in play.The authorities contend Herbert’s maneuvering extended from the fluorescent-lit offices of NYCHA to the odd street corner, where a handshake might mean more than civic courtesy. According to prosecutors, he raked in $36,000 across three schemes, one of which involved allegedly shepherding a city contract to a favored security firm. Not inside a boardroom but outside his own doorway, cash reportedly changed hands—no ceremony, just the rhythm of transaction. In conversation secretly recorded by law enforcement, Herbert’s tone was almost casual, referring to a company boss as someone who could “be helpful come election time.” One wonders if anyone believed, in those moments, that nobody would listen.There’s a certain texture to the indictment’s language—“repeatedly and flagrantly”—reminding readers just how flagrant, and frequent, the conduct is alleged to have been. Details surface: for $16,000, Herbert allegedly pressed for contract work at housing projects, invoking the needs of city seniors as leverage. The supposed defense of the vulnerable as a bargaining chip—rarely a look that ages well under scrutiny.But the seams don’t end there. There’s the business with the funeral home, where Herbert, prosecutors say, traded official influence for another envelope. Low-income families, seeking burial services for loved ones, entered the story as unwitting cast members in a drama that was never theirs to write. It’s difficult to read that passage of the indictment and not shiver: public trust, twisted to feed private gain.Before City Hall, before the bribes, another thread: Herbert’s bakery. Not a bakery of flour and ovens, but of ink—a creation for federal COVID relief paperwork. Prosecutors allege Herbert pocketed more than $20,000 in loans through this invented story. Somewhere along the line, every crumb of credibility was spent.The case sprawls across years—2022 to 2025—suggesting a pattern unbroken by department meetings or shifting administrations. “Blatant,” U.S. Attorney Jay Clayton called it, describing a public servant using his post as a lever, not for the people he was supposed to serve but for himself.There are echoes here, familiar to anyone who’s watched New York power from the sidelines. Herbert’s public downfall doesn’t occur in a vacuum. Several other aides in the Adams orbit have also attracted federal gaze, each revelation dulling public confidence another shade. Former mayor Adams himself tasted the edge of indictment, though that chapter closed without charges sticking.The story’s end remains unwritten. Herbert has been charged on six federal counts—bribery, fraud, extortion—the sort of words that allow little room for ambiguity. He sits in custody, city lawyers tight-lipped, and the city’s political class once again fends off fresh bruises to its image.Some may remember that Herbert’s October exit came after inflammatory online commentary, a self-inflicted wound which only foreshadowed greater troubles. His dismissal, once a footnote, now reads as prelude.What resonates most is the sense of erosion. Each new detail clouds expectations of integrity at City Hall. For New Yorkers, the question isn’t just who took what, or when, but if the churn will ever end. Federal proceedings crawl on; headlines will do as headlines tend to: fade, replaced by whatever the next morning brings.Still, as this case lumbers through the courts, a city looks on—not with shock, perhaps, but with fatigue, hungry as ever for public servants who believe in the first word in their job title.