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New Yorkers hunt for man dubbed ‘The L Train Nazi’ who was caught drawing hate slogans on the subway
(New York Jewish Week) — While waiting for the L train at Union Square one Sunday earlier this month, a commuter named Liz spotted something — or rather someone — whose doings had bedeviled her and a few other New Yorkers for more than a year: A white man, wearing a leather jacket and a black hoodie, scrawling a neo-Nazi slogan in black marker on a support beam.
Liz snapped the man’s photo but he quickly ran away. Since then, she and other activists in the city have been searching for the man, whom they have dubbed “The L Train Nazi.” His graffiti of choice appears to be the number “1488,” a neo-Nazi code recognized as a hate symbol by the Anti-Defamation League.
“I actually saw someone doodling on the support column,” Liz told the New York Jewish Week. “Sure enough, he was writing ‘1488.’ I was like, ‘get some pictures.’ He looked at me and tried to ignore it [me] and act like nothing happened.”
Liz, like some other activists who spoke to the New York Jewish Week for this article, declined to give her full name or divulge many details about herself, for fear of being harmed by the same white supremacists she has spent the past few years trying to expose. As an anti-far-right activist, Liz said she has attended multiple far-right and neo-Nazi events in cities across the northeast. At these events, she said she has physically confronted rally-goers and has been arrested two times.
BREAKING: ‘L Train Nazi’ Caught in the Act
For years, people have been reporting typographically similar ‘1488’ tags (a Nazi slogan: https://t.co/mlPBKKSDWW) in the subway, most often along the L line.
As a result, the tagger was dubbed ‘the L train Nazi.’ pic.twitter.com/ssNnYaTzDC
— Talia Jane (@taliaotg) February 8, 2023
The recent encounter on the L train platform, Liz said, didn’t escalate into violence. “He didn’t want to get an assault charge, and I didn’t want to get an assault charge,” she said. “He stormed off and I forwarded the pictures.”
The number 1488, in neo-Nazi speak, stands for two separate things: The 14 stands for a 14-word white supremacist creed — “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children” — and 88 stands for “Heil Hitler,” as “h” is the eighth letter of the alphabet.
Beginning in November 2021, other Twitter users had taken photos of similar graffiti at subway stations on the L and M lines in downtown Manhattan and Brooklyn. This isn’t the first time hate symbols have plagued the L train: two trains were removed from the line in 2019 after MTA officials discovered anti-Nazi stickers (which nonetheless partially displayed swastikas) on the train.
Talia Jane, a Brooklyn-based freelance reporter of Jewish descent, collated some of the photos into a Twitter thread following Liz’s interactions. The tweets have been shared 1,300 times in the week since she posted them. The photos of the suspected “L Train Nazi” have been viewed nearly 800,000 times.
“People began to notice similar tags of a similar marker and similar handwriting style,” Jane told the New York Jewish Week. “It became assumed that there was one person behind these recurring tags.”
When asked by this reporter about the graffiti, the New York Police Department said “there is nothing on file” about these markings.
MTA spokesperson Kayla Shults told the New York Jewish Week in an emailed statement that “there is no place for acts of hate of any kind, including anti-Semitic vandalism, in the subway system.”
“When observed, offensive materials are rapidly removed,” Shults said. “The MTA continues to be at the forefront of public service campaigns that promote respect and tolerance for all riders.”
Efforts to find the person behind the graffiti have been coalescing offline as well. Elsa Waithe, 34, a comedian from East New York, first spotted the “1488” graffiti in November 2021 at the L train Livonia stop. Waithe covered it with a sticker, but kept seeing similar graffiti nearby. Now, Waithe is putting up flyers at stations across the L line that say “#SubwayNazi” and display the man’s face.
“Be on the lookout,” the flyer reads. “This man was recently caught writing Nazi tags in NYC subways.”
“I personally plan to put these posters up every weekend, at least for a month or two, just so he knows that people know him now,” Waithe told the New York Jewish Week. “My friend asked me what I was doing. I said, ‘Essentially, Nazi-hunting.’”
Waithe said they made it their “mission” to always cover up the “1488” tags with a sticker, but noticed that others began posting pictures of the tag at stations approaching Manhattan — including Myrtle-Wycoff, Grand Street and eventually Union Square.
Just left the Livonia L trains station and it looks like the same asshole from before has left another 1488 on the stairs. I’ll return after work to cover it up but if someone can get to it before me that would be nice. It’s on the Manhattan bound side. pic.twitter.com/bCpWBJTxnE
— Harriet Thugman (@elsajustelsa) November 15, 2021
“He was putting them in very obvious places,” Waithe said. “Livonia is right next to public housing. This is a Black neighborhood. It pissed me off that someone would threaten the community. That’s what this is, a threat.”
Waithe feels that coded numbers such as 1488 and 1352, a racist anti-Black slogan, allow the perpetrator to hide Nazi messaging in plain sight.
“If he had put a swastika, we all know what that is,” Waithe said. “This is just a coded swastika. It’s the same exact thing, it’s just not as widely known, so he can put it and be discreet, or say it means something else. There is some plausible deniability.”
According to the Anti-Defamation League, New York State ranked seventh nationally in the number of white supremacist propaganda incidents in 2021.
“No one wants a Nazi in their neighborhood,” Waithe said. “We all ride this train, we all live in this city. Is there a network [of activists]? No. It’s just concerned citizens.”
Sophie Ellman-Golan, spokesperson for the Jewish progressive group Jews For Racial and Economic Justice, commended the efforts of the people who are keeping “tabs on the subway Nazi.”
“This particular Nazi has spent years trying to make Jews, Black people and all marginalized groups feel uncomfortable and unwelcome on the subway,” Ellman-Golan told the New York Jewish Week. “But it’s Nazis who should feel uncomfortable and unwelcome — on the subway and in our city and state.”
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Hamas Wants Guarantees of Israeli Troop Withdrawal Before Disarmament talks, sources say
The damaged Al-Shifa Hospital during the war in Gaza City, March 31, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alkas
Palestinian terrorist group Hamas has told mediators it will not discuss giving up arms without guarantees that Israel will fully quit Gaza as laid out in a disarmament plan from US President Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace,” three sources told Reuters.
Hamas’ disarmament is a sticking point in talks to implement Trump’s plan for the Palestinian enclave and cement an October ceasefire that halted two years of full-blown war.
A Hamas delegation met with Egyptian, Qatari and Turkish mediators in Cairo on Wednesday and Thursday to give their initial response to a disarmament proposal presented to the group last month, two Egyptian sources and a Palestinian official said.
Hamas conveyed several demands and amendments to the board’s plan, including an end to Israeli violations, implementation of all provisions and Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza, the two Egyptian sources told Reuters.
Hamas accuses Israel of breaking the ceasefire with attacks that have killed hundreds in Gaza. Israel says its strikes are aimed at thwarting imminent attacks by militants.
The sources said Hamas also sought clarification about what it described as Israel’s continued expansion of areas under its control. Israel retained control of well over half of Gaza after the ceasefire.
The sources said Hamas does not want to discuss disarmament before those issues are addressed.
Two Hamas officials declined to comment on the content of the meetings. Israel’s government did not immediately respond to a request for comment. Representatives for the Board of Peace did not immediately respond to requests for comment.
BREAKTHROUGH UNLIKELY
Another source with direct knowledge of the Board of Peace’s thinking said that Hamas’ response meant that talks over the group laying down its arms were unlikely to immediately lead to a breakthrough. The source said Hamas was supposed to meet with mediators again next week.
The US may move forward with reconstruction absent Hamas disarmament, but only in areas under complete Israeli military control, the source said. Funding pledges important for reconstruction, many of which were from Gulf Arab states, were being held up during the Iran war, the source added.
The Palestinian official close to the talks said Hamas was unlikely to reject the plan out of hand but “it will not say yes until the remarks and demands of Palestinian factions are addressed.”
Israel says it will not agree to withdraw from Gaza unless Hamas is fully disarmed first.
Trump’s top Board of Peace envoy in the Middle East, Nickolay Mladenov, said in a social media post on Wednesday that all mediating parties had endorsed the plan.
“(The) international community has supported it, now is the time to agree to the framework for its implementation. For the sake of both Palestinians and Israelis, there is not time to lose,” Mladenov said in a post on X.
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Leo, the First US Pope, Emerges as Pointed Trump Critic
FILE PHOTO: Pope Leo XIV speaks to the media as he leaves the papal residence to head back to the Vatican, in Castel Gandolfo, Italy, March 31, 2026. REUTERS/Remo Casilli/File Photo
Pope Leo last May became the first US leader of the global Catholic Church, but for the initial 10 months of his tenure he mostly avoided comment about his home country and never once mentioned President Donald Trump publicly.
That era has come to an end.
In recent weeks the pope has emerged as a sharp critic of the Iran war. He named Trump, for the first time publicly, on Tuesday in a direct appeal urging the president to end the expanding conflict.
It is a significant shift in tone and approach that experts said indicated that the pope wanted to serve as a counterweight on the world stage to Trump and his foreign policy aims.
“I don’t think he wants the Vatican to be accused of being soft on Trumpism because he’s an American,” said Massimo Faggioli, an Italian academic who follows the Vatican closely.
Leo, known for choosing his words carefully, urged Trump to find an “off-ramp” to end the war, using an American colloquialism the president and administration officials would understand.
“When (Leo) speaks, he’s always careful,” said Faggioli, a professor at Trinity College Dublin. “I don’t think that was an accident.”
Chicago Cardinal Blase Cupich, a close ally of Leo, told Reuters the pope was taking up the mantle of a long line of pontiffs who have urged world leaders to turn away from war.
“What is different… is the voice of the messenger, for now Americans and the entire English-speaking world are hearing the message in an idiom familiar to them,” said the cardinal.
POPE SAYS GOD REJECTS PRAYERS OF WAR LEADERS
Two days before appealing to Trump directly, Leo said God rejected the prayers of leaders who start wars and have “hands full of blood,” in unusually forceful remarks for a Catholic pontiff.
Those comments were interpreted by conservative Catholic commentators as aimed at US Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, who has invoked Christian language to justify the joint US-Israeli strikes on Iran that initiated the war.
They also led to one of the Trump administration’s first direct responses to a comment by Leo.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with our military leaders or with the president calling on the American people to pray for our service members,” White House spokesperson Karoline Leavitt said, when asked about the pope’s remarks.
Marie Dennis, a former leader of the international Catholic peace movement Pax Christi, said Leo’s most recent comments and his direct appeal to Trump “reflect a heart broken by unrelenting violence.
“He is reaching out to all who are exhausted by this unrelenting violence and are hungry for courageous leadership,” she said.
POPE RAMPING UP CRITICISM FOR WEEKS
Leo had previously taken aim at Trump’s hardline immigration policies, questioning whether they were in line with the Church’s pro-life teachings. In those comments, which drew backlash from conservative Catholics, he refrained from naming Trump or any administration official directly.
The pope also carried out a major shake-up of US Catholic leadership in December, removing Cardinal Timothy Dolan as archbishop of New York. Dolan, seen as a leading conservative among the US bishops, was replaced by a relatively unknown cleric from Illinois, Archbishop Ronald Hicks.
Leo has been ramping up his criticism of the Iran war for weeks.
He said on March 13 that Christian political leaders who start wars should go to confession and assess whether they are following the teachings of Jesus. On March 23, Leo said military airstrikes were indiscriminate and should be banned.
Cardinal Michael Czerny, a senior Vatican official, said the pope’s voice would carry weight globally because “everyone can perceive that he speaks… for the common good, for all people and especially the vulnerable.”
“Pope Leo’s moral voice is credible, and the world wants desperately to believe that peace is possible,” said the cardinal.
Leo on Thursday began four days of Vatican events leading up to Easter Sunday when he will deliver a special blessing and message from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica.
One of the most closely watched appointments on the Vatican’s calendar, the Easter speech is usually a time when the pope makes a major international appeal.
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In 1989, Harold Pinter and Jerry Schatzberg made the perfect Holocaust movie for 2026
The first hint that Reunion is an unusual kind of Holocaust film comes from a music cue.
An older man has traveled from New York City to Stuttgart, a trip that has clearly brought him immense psychological pain. His flashbacks to Nazi marches lead us to assume he lived in the German city during Adolf Hitler’s rise — but he doesn’t seem to know any German, opening every conversation by asking if the other party speaks English. Then he arrives at a warehouse, presumably to filter through belongings left to fester for decades after World War II, and begins a journey down a hallway that seems almost infinitely long.
As he walks the path back toward his past, the music marking his steps, composed by Philippe Sarde, is buoyant and lilting. The tune comes as a surprise. What’s this tripping sense of joy doing, following this man toward what we have every reason to assume is a museum of miseries?
Reunion, a 1989 film by director Jerry Schatzberg, with a screenplay by Harold Pinter based on a novel by Fred Uhlman, barely made a splash when it premiered in the United States, despite a largely positive European reception. Now, it’s being re-released, beginning with a two-week run at Manhattan’s Film Forum that opens this weekend. It’s almost a perfect Holocaust movie for our times — because it chronicles a moment much like our own, in which the gradual dissolution of society began to make itself known through the gradual dissolution of personal relationships. (Spoilers follow.)
The old man is Henry Strauss (Jason Robards) — who was once Hans (Christien Anholt), a lonely Jewish teenager at an elite all-boys Stuttgart school. The trip to Germany is his first since before the Holocaust. And the music, we quickly learn, is the soundtrack of what seems to have been the one great friendship of his life: it recurs at moments of particular meaning or joy during his brief, almost romantic engagement with an aristocratic boy called Count Konradin von Lohenburg (Samuel West).
The story of that adolescent friendship is the core of the film, an extended flashback to a time of great happiness as well as great peril, threaded through with that same uplifting melody.
Konradin is a bright, brave boy — ready to defend Hans to an antisemitic relative, or join his friend in striking back at Nazi youth who bully those without swastika armbands. But it’s also clear that he’s destined to get sucked into the Nazi machine: everything about his heritage, not to mention his prototypically Aryan looks, foreshadows that future. So from the first moment of his friendship with Hans, when the two connect over a shared love of collecting — with Konradin’s choice of companion clearly shocking a school in which Hans, as a Jew, resides somewhere far below the bottom of the social ladder — there’s a dominating sense of an invisible clock, counting down.
But oh, the halcyon days of this doomed duo.
They walk one another home from school, giggling in the age-old manner of teenagers for whom political upheavals are not yet real. They practice archery. They bicycle through the Black Forest, staying overnight at inns without the oppressive presence of their parents, whom both boys find embarrassing. (Konradin’s mother hates Jews, and Hans’ father is painfully enamored of Konradin’s elevated status.) When Konradin confesses that Hans is his first true friend, and Hans grins with quiet glee, it’s impossible not to hope that, somehow, they’ll stay this way — lovely, young and unchanged by the times in which they live.
For months, the Nazi threat only hovers around the edges of their relationship. Then it overtakes them. Rapid ruptures follow. And then it’s the 1980s, and Hans is back in Germany, seeking to figure out what happened to his old friend.
What prompts him to make the trip? There’s never a clear explanation. But it’s hinted that Hans has come to feel that he needs, at long last, some resolution to this passionate, formative relationship. He’s willing to risk his sense of self — the identity of the man who escaped to the U.S., and refused to ever speak a word of German again — to close that loop.
The sense that Hans’ whole life has turned on the events that marked his friendship with Konradin makes Reunion a profound watch, one that I suspect will be more effective for audiences in 2026 than it proved in 1989. Many of us have had once-close relationships begin to crack under the pressure of extreme polarization, and the insidious tensions of a political environment characterized by conspiratorial suspicion. Many of us love people we can no longer talk to, at least not freely.
It’s tempting to write these rifts off as personal. Reunion‘s terse message: don’t. A society doesn’t collapse all at once. It succumbs to hairline fractures; provoking a critical number of them is a strategy.
A Holocaust movie that spends so much of its runtime on a period of real contentment is an odd object. The break between its heroes comes late, meaning much of Reunion is a pleasure to watch. That is the point: under authoritarianism, life is still good until it’s not. Citizens have freedom, until they don’t. Friendship is trustworthy, until human weakness interferes. Liberal values are easy to hold onto, until you shake the demagogue’s hand.
But what makes Reunion most timely isn’t its somber portrayal of the connection between the minor tragedy of Hans and Konradin and the major one of World War II and the Holocaust. It’s that the film is hopeful.
To spoil the ending would be a shame. It is enough to know that Hans’ searching leads him to unexpected places, and while some are miserable and vicious, others are not. To let things stay broken, or assume that humans can’t change for good as well as for ill, is a choice. So is hearing and following the better music — the call to connect, and to resist being persuaded of something you know is wrong.
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