"Matthew Pietras worked for the Soros family, donated millions to museums, and produced a fistful of Broadway shows. So why did it all feel make-believe?"

From Airmail, July 12:

Was My Friend a Fraud?
To those of us who knew him, Matthew Christopher Pietras seemed larger than life, and well on his way to a place atop the pillars of New York society.

He was an aide-de-camp to Courtney Ross, the multi-millionaire widow of the legendary Time Warner C.E.O., Steve Ross. He played a similar role with the family of George Soros, the billionaire investor, and he also claimed a connection to the Qatari royal family.

He was listed as a producer of the Broadway shows Cabaret and Buena Vista Social Club, among many others. His name was etched on the wall of the recently reopened Frick Collection, and following a multi-million-dollar pledge to the Metropolitan Opera, he was in discussions to have a speakeasy bar named after him in the august institution’s basement.

But, following his sudden death, on May 30 at the shockingly young age of 40, rumors began to fly of lies, theft, and fraud.

I considered Matthew one of my closest friends for more than a dozen years. However, since his death, I realize I had shrugged off inconsistencies in his stories since the very first day we met. Talking to mutual friends in recent days has raised many more questions about the validity of his personal relationships with all of us. Were we really his friends? Or were we just adornments to him, brought out to shine at his parties like the brooches he loved to wear?

So this is my story, about my involvement with a man who acted like he ruled the world, but whose dazzling lifestyle and absurd generosity couldn’t bear too much scrutiny.

A Little Bit Extra

I first met Matthew when we were both working as non-union background actors—the lowest of the lows on set—on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit in April 2012. I was playing an upscale party-goer, and he played a cater-waiter. He dropped his tray during the shoot because—as he explained—unlike most young actors, he’d never actually worked in a restaurant.

It was a surprise to find myself engaging with such a personable young man. I was 44, he was 27, so we were an improbable pair. But we chatted all day after he squeezed in next to me. He had an M.B.A. from New York University and spoke easily about his time working as an intern for the United Nations in Afghanistan. He casually mentioned that he lived on Fifth Avenue, at the Pierre. When I asked how that was possible, he said the apartment belonged to his well-to-do grandparents, who’d taken him in when his parents threw him out for being gay. I assumed he was just another trust-fund kid killing time on a TV set.

However, Matthew was tiring of life as a background actor on shows such as Law & Order and Gossip Girl. He had started writing screenplays, and my husband—who was then Time Inc.’s chief content officer—and I often invited him to join us at screenings and parties. He was a great conversationalist who mixed well as he networked through our social circles. In particular, he paid close attention to accomplished “women of a certain age,” who helped form an infrastructure of credibility around their young friend.

His way with middle-aged women extended to a friend’s wife, who thought he would make a good mentor for her teenage son. Matthew was willing, but instead of being a role model for the young man, he became his lover. I was appalled when I learned of the affair months later. Even if the kid was above the age of consent, he was still in high school. However, when Matthew asked me not to interfere, I reluctantly bit my tongue. To my surprise, the relationship continued, on and off, for several years.

Matthew was a generous partner. Once, during a lunch, he announced he was taking his boyfriend to the Diamond District to buy a watch, and he invited me to tag along. He was chasing a hard-to-source Patek Philippe, and we all crowded into a cluttered watch shop. Matthew’s young friend tried on several watches, they settled on a handsome timepiece costing about $40,000, and the deal was made. Both Matthew and his friend were flushed with excitement over the acquisition.

In 2015, ahead of my 10th wedding anniversary, I sought his mailing address to send him an invitation to the party. Instead of the Pierre, he gave me a P.O.-box address almost two miles to the north. Such discrepancies didn’t bother me as I enjoyed his company, and the stakes were very low. I wrote to a mutual friend at the time that Matthew’s “capacity to perform and to lead a life that’s a mix of fact and fantasy is probably very useful to a would-be actor.” However, when he decided to leave acting and took the job working for Courtney Ross, I was thrilled.

The Soros Connection
I moved to Los Angeles in early 2018 after my husband joined the Los Angeles Times as its executive editor. While there, Matthew was a frequent visitor who joined us for dinners at hot spots like the Tower Bar and Pasjoli. He was traveling with Ross at the time, organizing her affairs and involving himself in the sale of her blue-chip art collection. Matthew said she called him “the son she never had.” He was also dating a handsome, and age-appropriate, piano tuner he had met at the Metropolitan Opera.

However, Matthew chafed at working for Ross—he said he found her needy and had grown tired of mediating her problems with her daughter—and I was delighted when he said that he had scored a significant upgrade: working for the Soros family. I thought he’d finally figured out how to live the life he’d once pretended to have. (Courtney Ross did not respond to air mail’s request for comment.)

Matthew was vague about what his job entailed. He said he “ran” George Soros and his sons Alex and Gregory, traveling with them when they went abroad to evaluate investments in Luxembourg and Ireland, and arranging the complicated logistics behind Soros family gatherings.

In particular, he seems to have worked closely with Gregory Soros, the youngest son, a recluse who is rarely seen in public. Matthew could be found attending zoning meetings on Shelter Island, where Greg is one of the biggest landowners, and I once overheard him spend literally hours on the phone dealing with Greg’s personal-chef situation—Greg didn’t want to have a chef on retainer but wanted one ready at a moment’s notice no matter where he was—which took on an earth-shattering importance. As much as I thought the assignment was absurd, I was struck by Matthew’s competence in addressing it. He was very good at making himself indispensable.....

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