Jacqueliene Fernandez to face trial as Delhi court orders framing of charges in ED’s Rs 200 crores money laundering case

On May 30, 2026, a Delhi court ordered the framing of criminal charges against Jacqueliene Fernandez, conman Sukesh Chandrashekar, and 15 others in a high-profile Rs 200-crores money laundering case. The ruling establishes that the trial against the actor and the co-accused will formally commence following their appearance in court this week. Additional Sessions Judge (ASJ) Prashant Sharma observed that the investigative findings revealed a robust legal basis to proceed with the prosecution. "Prima facie, there is sufficient material on record based upon which a strong suspicion is raised against all the accused," the ASJ stated, as per a report by PTI. The court held that Fernandez and the others are liable to be prosecuted for the offence of money laundering under Section 3 of the Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA), which is punishable under Section 4 of the same Act. The judge has directed all the accused individuals to appear physically in court on June 3 for the ...

‘I’m not a saint’: Abel Ferrara on his wild career, rehab and nightclubbing with Donald Trump

The last time our writer interviewed him, the drugged up director dozed off then asked for coke. Now sober, he reflects on #MeToo, Italian fascism and his fight for the final cut

The last time I met Abel Ferrara, he dozed off in the middle of our interview then woke up and asked me to score him some coke. It was 1996, and he was in the UK promoting his gangster drama The Funeral – which the actor Vincent Gallo alleged Ferrara had been too blitzed on crack to direct properly – and his vampire horror The Addiction. He was on a roll, his reputation fortified by King of New York, starring Christopher Walken as a flamboyant crime boss, and the gruelling Bad Lieutenant, with Harvey Keitel as a bent junkie cop. Ferrara was the scuzzball Scorsese: no matter how celebrated he became, he never shed the patina of grime from his early days as the star and director of porn film The Nine Lives of a Wet Pussy and the infamous “video nasty” The Driller Killer.

“You were the guy I fell asleep with?” he gasps now from his bright, high-ceilinged living room in Rome. He is calling via Zoom, his laptop resting on a shelf so he can pace around as he speaks, drinking from a bottle of San Pellegrino that he clutches by the neck. “You’re the guy? I’m sorry, man! Really, really.” Then he switches tack. “You let me down! You were 24, living in London, and you didn’t know where to score?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “All right. So where could we get some now?” A sandpapery cackle fills the air as he rocks on his heels. His hunched posture and jutting jaw make him the spit of the cartoon dog Muttley. He laughs like him, too.

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