George Santos, the former Republican congressman from New York whose outlandish fabrications and criminal schemes fueled an unforeseen rise and spectacular fall, was sentenced to more than seven years in federal prison on Friday.
His 87-month sentence was a severe corrective to a turbulent period in which Mr. Santos was catapulted from anonymity to political and pop cultural infamy, a national spotlight that, even when negative, he often relished more than rejected.
Mr. Santos pleaded guilty last year to wire fraud and aggravated identity theft. He acknowledged his involvement in a variety of other deceptions, including lying to Congress, fraudulently collecting unemployment benefits and bilking campaign donors out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Sitting before Judge Joanna Seybert in Federal District Court in Central Islip, N.Y., a teary Mr. Santos, 36, seemed far removed from the swaggering politician whose lies — that he was a college volleyball star and a Wall Street financier with ties to the Holocaust and Sept. 11, to name a few — turned him into a national punchline and led to mocking impersonations on “Saturday Night Live.”
His voice trembling, Mr. Santos told the judge that he had “betrayed the confidence entrusted to me” by the American people. “I cannot rewrite the past,” he said, but “I can control the road ahead.”
He asked for a lenient sentence to have time to “let me prove that I can still contribute positively to the community I wronged.”
But citing Mr. Santos’s history of lies and noting that he has not yet paid any court-ordered restitution to his victims, Judge Seybert cast doubt on Mr. Santos’s contrition.
“Where is the remorse?” she asked incredulously at one point. “Where do I see it?”
She expressed some sympathy for Mr. Santos and hope for his future, even if it was now derailed by a prison sentence. But she ultimately sided with federal prosecutors’ recommendation that he receive an 87-month sentence.
“Mr. Santos, words have consequences,” the judge told him. “You got elected with your words, most of which were lies.”
Mr. Santos, who cried into his hands as the sentence was being read, was given until July 25 to surrender and begin serving his term. He was ordered to pay more than $370,000 in restitution to his victims and will have to give up 10 percent of his income toward payments once he is released.
After his sentencing, Mr. Santos straightened, and pulled a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses out of his suit jacket. He strode from the courthouse to an awaiting car without speaking to the press, and he did not respond to a subsequent request for comment.
If his lies accounted for his ignominious rise, Mr. Santos’s financial misdeeds are what triggered his downfall. Well before any resolution in his criminal case, his colleagues in the House made the unprecedented decision in December 2023 to expel him from Congress without a conviction.
After an ethics investigation found Mr. Santos had spent campaign funds on Botox, designer fashion, cosmetics and OnlyFans, more than 100 Republicans joined Democrats to push him out.
It was a bipartisan break from party orthodoxy that seems unthinkable less than two years later, as President Trump uses the bully pulpit to unite Republicans in Congress behind him and hold their slim majority.
Though Mr. Trump has made expansive use of his presidential pardon power, he has shown no indication he might pardon Mr. Santos, who has yet to receive the president’s favor despite his strong adherence to Mr. Trump’s politics. After losing his first bid for a House seat in 2020, Mr. Santos backed Mr. Trump’s false claims of a stolen election and wrongly said that he, too, had been the victim of voter fraud.
Two years later, Mr. Santos won what had been a Democratic-leaning district on Long Island. The victory by Mr. Santos, a young Brazilian American and the first openly gay Republican to be newly elected to Congress, seemed to signal a shift in the party’s politics.
But Mr. Santos’s campaign was built on a spectacular array of lies that would be exposed before he even took office.
He claimed to be a descendant of Holocaust refugees. His mother, he said, was in the World Trade Center during the Sept. 11 attacks. And he boasted of extensive experience at Wall Street firms that allowed him to report loaning his campaign hundreds of thousands of dollars.
His résumé was false, and so was the loan, one of several schemes that federal prosecutors in the Eastern District of New York argued Mr. Santos had used to enrich both himself and his campaign.
In an indictment in 2023, prosecutors said that Mr. Santos stole from donors, used his campaign account for personal purchases, inflated his fund-raising numbers, lied about his wealth on congressional documents and committed unemployment fraud.
New York’s labor commissioner, Roberta Reardon, who oversees the state’s unemployment insurance program, was the only person to read a victim statement. No witnesses spoke in support of Mr. Santos.
During Friday’s hearing, Ryan Harris, the lead prosecutor, argued that Mr. Santos deserved a lengthy sentence not only to reflect the seriousness of his crimes, but to deter him from future criminality.
When confronted with his lies, Mr. Harris said, Mr. Santos “doubles down, piling lies and fraud onto lies and fraud. This is not the behavior of someone who is easily deterred.”
Prosecutors also criticized him for pugnacious social media posts that suggested he had little remorse for his actions, and for using his notoriety to build a brand off his crimes, including by starting a podcast last year titled “Pants on Fire,” a winking allusion to his penchant for lying.
Mr. Santos’s lawyers did little to defend him against the prosecutions’s attacks, seemingly resting their hopes for a lighter sentence on an appeal for mercy.
“Everyone hates George Santos,” Andrew Mancilla, Mr. Santos’s lawyer, said. “He’s been painted and ridiculed over the past years as an evildoer and a fraudster. How can I stand up here and say that is not true?”
But he said Mr. Santos had already faced significant punishment, suggesting that his notoriety had left him with “virtually no” reputation or job prospects. Listening from the defense table, Mr. Santos wept.
Judge Seybert said she had considered whether to view Mr. Santos as a first-time offender who “got carried away” or an “arrogant fraudster talking out of both sides of his mouth.”
Mr. Santos’s lawyers had pushed for a sentence of two years followed by probation, saying the former congressman had acknowledged the gravity of his crimes and was committed to paying restitution.
But prosecutors disclosed that Mr. Santos had not paid any restitution, despite earning $360,000 recording personalized videos on the app Cameo after he was expelled by his peers in Congress.
And prosecutors, casting doubt on his intention to pay back his victims, said that over the last year, Mr. Santos had rented a second home in Pennsylvania, driven a Jaguar and sported a Rolex watch.
True to form, Mr. Santos has prevaricated around his guilt. On social media, he has railed against the Justice Department for what he described as a politically motivated prosecution and denied having misused campaign funds — a direct contradiction of statements he made when he pleaded guilty.
But this week, he told The New York Times he would not ask for a pardon because he needed to take “accountability and responsibility.”
Still, those who know Mr. Santos personally are not convinced of his penitence.
Peter Hamilton became friendly with Mr. Santos about a decade ago, lending him several thousand dollars for a down payment on an apartment. Shortly afterward, Mr. Santos begin ducking his calls.
Though Mr. Hamilton pushed for years, even getting an order from small claims court, he was not repaid until Mr. Santos was vaulted into the public eye.
Mr. Hamilton said Friday he was “pleasantly surprised” by the sentence. “He betrayed the trust of the public and won a House seat by being a con man,” Mr. Hamilton said, adding: “I wouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth.”
Michael Gold covers Congress for The Times, with a focus on immigration policy and congressional oversight.
Grace Ashford covers New York government and politics for The Times.
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