Inside George Santos's Descent From Congress to Convict—and His Surprise Early Release

George Santos rose to power on a platform built from illusion. In November 2022, the young, charismatic Republican from Long Island, N.Y., became the first openly gay non-incumbent GOP candidate elected to the U.S. House of Representatives. He arrived in Washington promising a new kind of politics: a blend of authenticity, ambition and outsider energy.

But the story he sold to voters, that of a self-made financier and the son of immigrants who climbed from modest roots to Wall Street success, soon began to crumble. Within weeks of his election, reporters uncovered inconsistencies that bordered on absurd. The college degrees, the Goldman Sachs job, the real estate portfolio, even his claims of Jewish heritage—all fabricated.

By May 2023, federal prosecutors had peeled back the façade. What they found was a tangled web of lies, fraud and theft that made even seasoned investigators shake their heads.

Born in 1988 to Brazilian immigrants in Queens, N.Y., Santos grew up in a modest household where his mother worked as a domestic housekeeper and his father as a painter. From an early age, he dreamed of a life far beyond his working-class neighborhood. After graduating from high school, Santos drifted between jobs, working in customer service and positions at small financial firms where he claimed to have honed his skills as an investor.

In interviews and on the campaign trail, however, he painted a far grander picture. He said he’d earned a degree from Baruch College, built a fortune at Goldman Sachs and Citigroup, and managed millions in assets before turning to public service. But as reporters would later uncover, the man who had promised to bring Wall Street savvy to Washington had never actually worked there at all.

In May and October 2023, Santos was charged with 23 total felony counts, including wire fraud, money laundering, theft of public funds and falsifying campaign finance records. Prosecutors alleged that Santos had stolen donors’ identities, fabricated campaign reports to inflate his credibility and used campaign funds for personal luxuries, including designer clothing, Botox and even subscriptions to adult content sites.

He also filed false unemployment claims during the COVID-19 pandemic, pocketing benefits while earning a six-figure salary. When questioned, he doubled down, insisting his prosecution was politicized. 

But the evidence was overwhelming. Emails, bank statements and digital transactions showed that Santos had manipulated his campaign and donors for personal gain. The illusion of a self-made success story had been sustained entirely by lies.

That December, Santos was expelled from the House of Representatives by a vote of 311 to 114. Facing the prospect of a long and public trial, in August 2024, Santos struck a plea deal with prosecutors, admitting to guilt to two charges: wire fraud and aggravated identity theft.

“I deeply regret my conduct,” he told the court. “I understand my actions have betrayed the trust of my supporters.”

The plea deal required him to pay $373,749.97 in restitution and forfeit more than $200,000 in illicit gains. But prosecutors questioned his remorse, pointing out that even after his arrest, Santos continued to portray himself as the victim of a political witch hunt.

In April 2025, Judge Joanna Seybert handed down the sentence: 87 months in federal prison. Now, the former congressman was headed to federal prison as a felon rather than a freshman Congressman.

Santos reported to the Federal Correctional Institution in Fairton, N.J. (FCI Fairton), a medium-security federal prison, in July 2025. FCI Fairton houses roughly 800 incarcerated people, including white-collar offenders, low-level drug traffickers and public officials fallen from grace. For the first time in his adult life, Santos’s carefully constructed image meant nothing. His designer clothes were replaced by a standard prison uniform.

In early September 2025, Santos told a local Long Island newspaper that he had been placed in a segregated special housing unit after the prison received reports of a death threat against him. He claimed to have spent 41 days in a dirty 15-by-7-foot cell with just a bed, toilet, sink and limited access to cold showers. After his release from prison, Santos said the solitary experience and his incarceration had inspired him to reconnect with his religious faith.

In October 2025, President Donald Trump commuted Santos’s sentence, citing what he called unfair treatment. It was also reported that Santos would no longer have to pay restitution to his victims. Unlike a pardon, a commutation of sentence means that while Santos would be released, he remains a convicted felon.

The announcement sparked debate from both sides of the aisle. Prosecutors condemned the move as a blow to accountability and did not rule out the possibility of exploring potential state charges against Santos. Santos’s small circle of loyal supporters celebrated his release as vindication. On October 18, 2025, Santos walked out of FCI Fairton’s gates, his sentence reduced to time served after just 84 days of his seven-year sentence. He later wrote that he was back “as a new man.”

But in interviews since his release, he has continued to strike a defiant tone, suggesting his prosecution was politically motivated. He’s hinted at writing a memoir, launching a media venture and working on issues surrounding prison reform.

Once a symbol of a new generation of Republican leadership, Santos now stands as a monument to the dangers of unchecked ambition. For some, his early release was a second chance at redemption. For others, it proved that accountability is as unreliable as the truth he once so easily bent.