The prosecutor, the titan, and the game no one wins clean

Gone Rogue: Season 1, episode 2 recap

Preet Bharara, then U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, became known for his aggressive pursuit of financial crime. And in the case of SAC Capital Advisors, he aimed high—targeting not just the firm, but its elusive founder, Steve Cohen. 

This wasn’t just a prosecution. It was a bare-knuckle brawl that ripped through the gilded cages of high finance, exposing the dark underbelly of a system rigged for the powerful. Exposing how deeply insider trading was woven into the fabric of high finance—and how hard it was to hold the powerful to account.

Preet Bharara wasn’t just a prosecutor; he was a political animal, hungry for the spotlight. As Bethany McLean bluntly puts it, he “wanted to be known,” a stark contrast to most who fade into lucrative law firms. Charles Gasparino even likened him to “Rudy Giuliani on steroids”—a comparison Bharara himself apparently bristled at, proving just how conscious he was of his image. 

“The Man Busting Wall Street” dives into Bharara’s campaign against insider trading—one marked by focus, intensity, and a clear message: no one is beyond reach. His early wins, like the conviction of Raj Rajaratnam, felt like precursors to the main event: SAC. 
This wasn’t just a legal pursuit. It was a warning shot to Wall Street’s elite. 

Imagine the sheer panic that rippled through Wall Street when it became public knowledge that wiretaps, once reserved for terrorists and mobsters, were now pointed at their gilded phones. John Moon makes it clear: This wasn’t just an investigation, it was an “incredible amount of resources” dedicated to shattering the illusion of untouchability. 

The Feds didn’t just have tech, they had a ruthless strategy: Find the “weak link.” As John Moon explains, the federal sentencing guidelines for insider trading are “draconian,” offering a brutal choice: cooperate and get a “5k1” (a reduced sentence), or face decades in prison. This created a feeding frenzy of cooperation, where everyone was looking to save their own skin, starting with Richard Choo-Beng Lee. 

The investigation was a masterclass in prosecutorial aggression, culminating in SAC Capital being forced to cough up a jaw-dropping $1.8 billion—the biggest insider trading settlement ever. The firm was dismantled. Its empire unraveled.  

Yet, the ghost in the machine, Steve Cohen? He walked away without a personal charge. A glaring gap in accountability? A system working as designed—or something else entirely? The questions still hang heavy, a testament to the system’s ability to protect its own. He rebranded. He rebuilt. And he’s still in the game. 

Steve Cohen’s “Get Out of Jail Free” card

Despite the sweeping charges leveled against SAC Capital, its founder, Steve Cohen, wasn’t personally charged. He was barred from managing outside money but quickly pivoted—launching Point72 Asset Management. For many, it felt like a light consequence for someone so central to the story.

The notion that Cohen—a known micromanager with a reputation for tracking every detail—“didn’t read his emails,” raised eyebrows. As Bethany McLean remarks, it stretches belief. This wasn’t about proving guilt; it was about how far plausible deniability could reach.

SAC Capital’s settlement—and what it didn’t say

That $1.8 billion penalty may have set records, but it came with a familiar clause: SAC Capital “neither admitted nor denied wrongdoing.” It’s a standard SEC practice, designed to resolve cases quickly—but one that often leaves accountability murky.

The result? Reputation intact, consequences unclear—and a system that seems to favor closure over clarity.

Mathew Martoma’s sacrifice

Mathew Martoma took the brunt of the early fallout. His prosecution, along with the CR Intrinsic settlement, became a pivotal moment in the case against SAC—but also raised questions about proportional accountability. Was he a central player or a stepping stone toward someone bigger?

His case wasn’t complicated, it was a textbook example of insider trading. He allegedly got a tip that a revolutionary Alzheimer’s drug was a flop, then shorted the stock before results went public. This wasn’t some grey area, it was black and white, and it served as a brutal opening act in the SAC saga.

Michael Steinberg’s “Close, but no cigar” moment

Steinberg’s arrest, positioned as bringing the investigation closer to Cohen, but the evidence—particularly the much-discussed emails—never fully delivered. His conviction was later overturned. The case captured a broader frustration: junior figures faced steep consequences, while the person many viewed as central remained untouched. It fueled the suspicion that the larger objective was not necessarily to convict Cohen himself, but to dismantle his empire by any means necessary, even if it meant sacrificing his lieutenants.

Wall Street’s culture isn’t just high-pressure—it’s built to blur lines. As Charles Gasparino hints, operations designed to gain “legal” access to inside information expose more than tactical savvy. They reveal a system that rewards ethical contortions as long as they deliver results. 

Bethany McLean draws a haunting comparison: Bharara as Captain Ahab, and Cohen as his Moby-Dick. One driven by justice, the other by power—both locked in a pursuit that was as personal as it was professional. It’s a metaphor that captures not just the scale of the investigation, but the intensity behind it. 

Conclusion

Gone Rogue Season 1, episode 2 pulls no punches—and raises uncomfortable truths. When it comes to insider trading, enforcement may be aggressive, but accountability still seems to scale with power. Technology makes the game faster. It doesn’t make it fairer.

The SAC saga shows how outcomes often depend less on actions, and more on access: to capital, to counsel, to influence. For Martoma and Steinberg, the consequences were career-ending. For Cohen, they were temporary.

The core questions remain: What does justice look like when billions are involved? And who actually pays the price?

For a true understanding of this high-stakes charade, listen to the full podcast. Just don’t expect closure—this one’s designed to unsettle. Subscribe to Gone Rogue if you dare to peer into the dark heart of finance.