At first I wondered if I''d made a terrible mistake. My first day at the New York Attorney General''s office was not going how I''d envisioned it. The callback interviews had been on the 24th and 25th floors of 120 Broadway, with panoramic views of lower Manhattan, glimpses of the rivers and bridges in between the other buildings. It felt like I''d be starring in the real-life version of Billions or Suits , and in fact 120 Broadway was later featured on Succession. My office was a different story. The Consumer Frauds Bureau was down on the 3rd floor, in the shadows of the skyscrapers, with stained gray carpet, yellowing ceiling tiles, flickering fluorescents, 10-year-old computers, 30-year-old beige push-button phones, and derelict stacks, boxes, and binders of paper, some decades old. I was given an empty office at the end of a hallway no one ever walked down. Every day, starting just before lunch, the smell of fried onions permeated everything, as my office sat directly above the kitchen of a Capital Grille steakhouse far too expensive for any of the government lawyers to afford.

This didn''t feel like the story of a crusading lawyer on TV. It felt like the DMV. Then on my second day, my bureau chief, Jane Azia, suddenly appeared in my doorway with a new project for me. It was about an unlicensed for-profit school called Trump University. The case was stuck, Jane told me. Trump''s lawyers had stonewalled us, giving us only a paltry fraction of the materials we had subpoenaed earlier that year at the beginning of the investigation, in February 2011. It was now October, and it was unclear if there was a case at all. So it was a perfect assignment for the new guy.

My task was to call up a number of the New York based students of Trump University and ask them about their experiences. Some of the former students started to cry when I told them who I was and what I was calling about. Some of them ranted, the words pouring out in a stream for an hour or longer. Some of them refused to answer my questions at first and instead turned the tables and started questioning me: Are you really from the attorney general''s office? How do I know you don''t work for Trump? Once they were satisfied I was on their side, they started telling me the truth about Trump University. All I had to ask was the open-ended question: "Could you tell me about your experiences?" It was a rip-off. A scam. A fraud. We were conned.

The whole thing was a bait-and-switch. I had just started working on the case, and the court documents were practically writing themselves. Yet underneath all the anger was a deep sense of pain and betrayal. They were believers. They believed in Donald Trump as a winner, as a paragon of the American Dream, and they believed in Trump University''s sales pitch, that it would teach them Trump''s secrets for achieving that dream, for making millions as real estate investors. They trusted him. And he took their money, as much as $35,000 per person and sometimes more, and left them with nothing to show for it but fake diplomas and photos of themselves standing next to a cardboard cutout of Trump. And the ones who cried? They cried because they were mortified.

I feel like such a fool. I can''t believe I fell for that. But they also cried because they didn''t believe that anyone would ever look into it, that they would ever have a chance of getting their money back, that there would ever be any consequences for the scammers. They didn''t believe that someone like me would ever call them, and even once I did, they still didn''t believe that someone like Trump would ever be brought to justice. Yet without prompting, dozens of them volunteered to be interviewed further, to testify, to help however they could. I''m afraid of him , one told me, but someone has to do something about this . But they were still deeply skeptical that anything would actually happen. Do you promise you''ll look into this? Do you promise you''re actually going to do something about it? Most of the time, no one does anything about a malefactor like Donald Trump.

This was especially true with Trump prior to the Trump University case. He was first the target of a government enforcement action in 1973, for blatant and systematic racial discrimination to keep Black tenants from getting units in Trump apartment buildings; he got off with a slap on the wrist, as we''ll see. He managed to get an entire generation of otherwise high-powered New York City prosecutors tucked away in his pocket, bought off with donations, co-opted with the promise of future donations, bullied into passivity. Only starting in the 2010s, with the Trump University case and the New York AG''s subsequent case against the Trump Foundation, did prosecutors and litigators finally start cracking the code for taking down Trump. This book, for the first time, shares the blueprint for how to make that happen. You''re about to learn all the key lessons on how to bring the powerful to justice--specifically about how to bring Donald Trump to justice, something that many people still believe cannot be done. But I know it can be done, because I did it. As part of an amazing team of lawyers with the New York AG, I helped lead the investigation into Trump University, building the civil prosecution that we filed against Trump in August 2013, which ultimately resulted in a $25 million settlement that was announced in 2016 and finalized in 2017-18, the first major loss he had ever suffered in a court case.

Yet perhaps the most amazing thing about the Trump University case is that it almost didn''t happen at all. Trump refused to produce the documents he was obligated to produce; other evidence was out there, but it was difficult and labor-intensive to unearth. Many prosecutors and litigators would have stopped short or would never have devoted the resources in the first place. But it''s not just about the quantum of evidence--it''s also about having the will and the commitment to bring a case against a powerful target like Trump. And as we''ll see, that will and commitment wavered and almost collapsed, numerous times, when it came to the deeply flawed person who held the office of New York Attorney General at the time, Eric Schneiderman. And all the evidence in the world cannot make a case if the senior-most prosecutors in an office simply refuse to bring it. Therein lies the problem: prosecutors are humans, with all the imperfections that brings. Worse, prosecutors are often politicians , which only exacerbates the problem.

Donald Trump is supremely untalented or a complete fake and phony at many, many things, but one of his actual strengths is knowing how to work someone, especially someone weak and insecure and easily swayed by flattery or money or the promise of it--in other words, he''s really good at manipulating people like himself. This is, therefore, a playbook for the real world we inhabit, a world of flawed public officials who can be drawn to the dark side, or who can be coaxed into using their prosecutorial powers for good. After all, for all of Eric Schneiderman''s flaws, he ultimately did green-light the Trump University case. And whether you''re an activist or advocate, a career prosecutor, or a concerned and engaged citizen, we all need to know how to work the system and the people who hold the levers of power, so we can work it as well, and ultimately better than, someone like Trump. This is also a playbook of the legal tactics that it takes to defeat someone like Trump. How do you get the evidence you need to win? How do you convince people to cooperate with you? How do you overcome all the stonewalling, all the bullying, all the counterattacks, all the diversions, all the endless delays, and all of the personal attacks that will inevitably come from any legal case against Trump? The lessons assembled here are more specific to a case against Trump or a Trump-like figure of power, resources, and a shameless lack of scruples (more on that in a bit). The list is not meant to be comprehensive, and really, any attempt to be comprehensive would be sure to fail. But I endeavored to collect the most obvious rules that followed directly from my own experiences as well as others who''ve tangled with Trump--especially those who have now joined the still exclusive club of lawyers who have defeated him.

Then there are other lessons and rules that are even more blazingly obvious but are more generally applicable to any case, not just against Trump; but they''re worth mentioning here at the outset. First, you have to start with a clean slate. No preconceived notions. No picking an outcome and then trying to find evidence to fit that outcome. Prosecutors talk about going where the facts and the law lead them, and though that''s a platitude, it''s a platitude for a reason. Any valid case must be grounded firmly in evidence that an illegality has occurred (notice I did not say "crime," as we''re discussing both civil as well as criminal offenses; the civil offenses include the fraud claims New York has brought against Trump University, the Trump Foundation, and the Trump Organization, plus pursuing Trump University for its failures to have the requisite licenses and approvals to operate a school and to call it a "University"). At the beginning of a case, that quantum of evidence has not yet been obtained. Of course, the genesis of a case usually comes from some kind of complaint or suspicion--complaints from victims, whistleblower reports, referrals fr.