Catch Me If You Can conman Frank Abagnale Jr. lied about his lifetime of lies, sources claim

Frank W. Abagnale Jr. was annoyed.

The Times of London had reviewed my 2019 book about serial liars, Duped, and a photo of Leonardo DiCaprio in full pilot regalia accompanied the piece.

It was the famous still from Catch Me if You Can, Steven Spielberg’s 2002 film inspired by Abagnale’s best-selling memoir from 1980.

Via email, the “reformed” con artist and author — who now advises businesses, banks, department stores and the FBI on fraud prevention and cybercrime — wanted me to know that it bothered him that “everyday someone writes an article about a bank robbery, forgery, con artist, or even cybercrime and they refer to me.

“The crime I committed was writing bad checks,” he wrote. “I was 16 years old at the time. I served five years total in prisons in Europe and the US Federal prison system. In 1974, after serving 4 years in federal prison, the government took me out of prison to work for the FBI. I have done so now for more than 43 years.”

He added that he had repaid all of his debts.

His distress surprised me.

Abagnale never seemed embarrassed by his past — not on To Tell the Truth nor The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson nor in high-paying speaking gigs around the country.

His grifter-made-good story was a huge selling point.

According to both Abagnale himself and his autobiography, in the mid-1960s and early ’70s, when he was between 16 and 21, he had impersonated a Pan Am pilot, flying some 3,000,000 miles to 82 countries for free.

He claimed to have posed as a doctor in Marietta, Georgia, a sociology professor at Utah’s Brigham Young University, and a lawyer in the lawyer general’s office in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

During that period, he allegedly cashed 17,000

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Louisiana Insurance Commissioner will not seek reelection

BATON ROUGE, La. (AP) — Longtime Louisiana Insurance Commissioner Jim Donelon, who was tasked with finding solutions to lower property insurance costs that have been plaguing the state, announced Tuesday that he will not seek reelection in October.

Donelon, a Republican, has been thrust into the spotlight amid the state’s ongoing property insurance crisis, which was exacerbated by devastating hurricanes in 2020 and 2021. However, even as Donelon laid out plans to potentially strengthen the state’s struggling homeowners insurance market and decrease premium costs, he said his time in the Louisiana Department of Insurance — where he served as commissioner for a record 17 years — is coming to an end.

“(I) have spent almost 50 years serving the public of Louisiana,” Donelon, 78, said Tuesday. “I want to enjoy the remaining years of my life with my family and hopefully some new hobbies.”

Donelon’s surprise announcement comes a month after lawmakers approved of allocating $45 million to an incentive program designed to entice more insurers to Louisiana. Over the past few years, a dozen homeowners insurance companies fled the state and another dozen went insolvent following hurricanes Delta, Laura, Zeta and Ida. The storms’ destruction generated a combined 800,000 insurance claims totaling $22 billion.

As a result, thousands of residents have been forced to turn to Louisiana Citizens Property Insurance Corporation — the state-run insurer, which is the most expensive option. Currently the corporation has 120,000 residential policies — compared to 41,000 policies in 2021 — and the average annual property insurance premium has soared to $4,400. Nationally, the average annual premium for property insurance in 2019 was $1,272, according to the most recent data from the Insurance Information Institute.

Under the state’s incentive program, qualified companies will be awarded grants between $2 million and $10 million. In

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Society must reestablish respect for law enforcement

Six years ago, the law enforcement community experienced one of its darkest periods in recent memory.

On July 17, 2016, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, three police officers were shot and killed in an ambush-style attack by a deranged lone gunman. A fourth officer, gravely wounded in the shooting, ultimately succumbed to his injuries earlier this year after enduring years of rehabilitation. Two other officers were seriously injured.

That tragedy came on the heels of another mass-casualty event at Dallas-area police officers only a week before. Five police officers lost their lives in that shooting, with another nine seriously injured.

At the time, I was in the waning months of a nearly two-decade career in law enforcement. While I had seen police and community relations ebb and flow over the years and understood that violence directed against police officers was nothing new, the extreme violence, moral depravity, and callous indifference among some toward the murders in Dallas and Baton Rouge felt different.

In the aftermath of Baton Rouge, I wrote, “What we are experiencing right now no longer feels isolated. It no longer feels extraordinary. Sadly, this extreme violence against our men and women in blue is beginning to feel routine.”

Those attacks occurred at what at the time felt like a generational nadir in police and community relations, actively under the strain of an aggressive and growing anti-police movement spurred on by high-profile events sensationalized by a media more inclined toward inflaming public passions than being the neutral purveyor of facts.

While tensions eased over the next few years, the 2020 death of George Floyd in Minneapolis rekindled them. The ensuing civil unrest, riots, and violence that marked the response to Mr. Floyd’s death inspired the contemptible “defund the police” movement — a misguided narrative that systematically diminished

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