My Time in Bernie Madoff’s Apartment

Sometimes I’m asked to take off my shoes before entering an apartment. Instead, I had to surrender my cell phone. That was a first. This was no ordinary walk thru.

Federal agents were everywhere. As was Bernie’s stuff. And by stuff I mean everything- forks, dishes, towels, jewelry, pens, trays — everything. Each item, no matter how small, was tagged and registered.

I walked into his home office. It was the room where Madoff confessed his heinous crime. If only those walls could talk. Just off it was a bathroom — black marble floor, black toilet. His toothbrush still sitting out.

It was his closet that I most remember. Everything was organized with precision. He had the same white polo shirt stacked one after another. He had boxes and boxes of shoes. Many of them appeared to be the same pair. It was the first time a closet gave me a creepy vibe.

For all his thievery, he didn’t spend it on keeping up the apartment. It was dated. The finishes reminded me of my grandparents home in the early 1990's.

Notwithstanding it’s owner, the duplex apartment with its terrace and gracious layout was remarkable. I submitted my report on its value and tracked the apartment once it came on the market. After a few months it sold.

It my delight, it went for slightly more than I had estimated. Normally I get annoyed when I underprice an apartment. But not this time. I was glad more money could be distributed to the Madoff victims.