From the Trump SoHo condo case to the “Ground Zero mosque,” Bailey has taken on some of the toughest real estate battles in the city – and won. Photo by Nick Coleman.

 

In the concrete jungle where fortunes pivot on the stroke of a pen, Adam Leitman Bailey is the lawyer developers clamor for – or dread, depending on their position. Founder and force behind his eponymous firm, Bailey built his legal empire from the ground up, armed with grit, strategy and an appetite for high-stakes, complex battles. Today, he stands among the legal elite: a courtroom tactician with a client roster stacked with New York’s most powerful players and a resume that reads like a greatest hits of real estate litigation. 

 

Bailey has laid the foundation for some of the city’s most jaw-dropping legal victories – from securing the largest condo settlement in New York history to unearthing an obscure statute that flipped a landmark case on its head. His firm won a record-breaking $21M government grant for a co-op and delivered a payout in a casualty case that reset expectations for what’s possible in property law. 

 

A willingness to take on the cases others wouldn’t – matters steeped in controversy, complexity and at times, public backlash – has become a defining characteristic in Bailey’s decades-long career. In Sinensky v. Rokowsky, he fought for the dignity and property rights of an 83-year-old Holocaust survivor, confronting not just legal obstacles but deeply embedded systems of prejudice. In the charged Park51 litigation, Bailey stood virtually alone in defending the rights of Muslim Americans to build a community center near Ground Zero – a position that tested public sentiment and constitutional principle alike. Then came the Trump SoHo condo case, where Bailey alleged that developers used fraudulently inflated sales figures to mislead buyers and fabricate the illusion of strong demand. In each instance, Bailey disrupted the comfortable narrative, challenged entrenched power, and forced a reckoning where silence had long prevailed. 

 

Conviction Over Consensus

 

To be a disruptor is to stand at odds with convention – not out of defiance, but in pursuit of something better. It takes rare courage: the kind that accepts being misunderstood, even disliked, as the price of progress. True disruptors don’t seek comfort in consensus, they advance when others retreat, guided by conviction rather than approval. Their work unsettles, provokes and often divides – but in doing so, it clears the path for change.  

 

A closer look at Bailey’s body of work – behind the spectacle of headlines and hard-won victories – reveals the work of an incredible disrupter, to be sure. But it also unveils something deeper and more nuanced about the storied litigator. Bailey’s strong constitution is fueled by unique motivations, an unassailable moral compass and a deep commitment to the clients who’ve placed their futures in his hands.  

 

Sinensky v. Rokowsky – Fighting Housing Discrimination in the Co-op Market

 

In 2006 Bailey stepped into the fight on behalf of an 83-year-old Holocaust survivor caught in the crosshairs of a discriminatory co-op board in Sinensky v. Rokowsky. Chaim Indig had been denied the opportunity to purchase an apartment in Brooklyn’s Premier House cooperative. Despite having entered into a valid purchase agreement, Indig – who suffered from advanced Parkinson’s disease, rendering him immobile and unable to speak – was rejected by the co-op board. Shortly thereafter, the board president purchased the unit for himself, raising serious concerns of bias and self-dealing. 

 

In a case like this, you’re not just battling legal arguments. You’re battling fear, misinformation and a deep national trauma.

 

Bailey secured a settlement that resulted in the apartment being sold to Indig’s family and established a precedent-setting moment in co-op law. Although the trial court initially dismissed the case, the Appellate Division reinstated the claims, holding that the plaintiffs had alleged sufficient facts to warrant discovery and further proceedings – a pivotal ruling that made new law allowing the right of contract vendees to challenge discriminatory denials by cooperative boards. Before this case was decided, under New York law no contract vendee or non shareholder had the ability to sue a board.

 

Beyond the courtroom, the case stood as a powerful reminder of the legal system’s role in protecting the dignity and rights of society’s most vulnerable – especially in housing, where gatekeeping mechanisms too often go unchecked. 

 

Against the Tide – The Legal Battle to Defend Park51

 

Bailey’s commitment to civil rights didn’t end with housing. His willingness to step into passionately charged, high-profile legal battles – especially those others avoided – would soon be tested on a much larger stage. In 2010, one particular case put constitutional freedoms in direct conflict with raw public sentiment, and Bailey found himself at the center of a legal firestorm. The world was watching. 

 

In the emotionally scorched landscape of post-9/11 New York, grief had hardened into sacred memory and few legal battles tested the boundaries of constitutional rights and public tolerance more than the fight over Park51. The proposed Islamic community center, which included a mosque, was slated to rise just two blocks from Ground Zero – a location many Americans viewed as hallowed ground. To some, its proximity was a gesture of reconciliation and inclusion – to others, it felt like a provocation, an affront to the memory of those killed in the attacks. So when Bailey agreed to represent the developers pro bono, he stepped directly into one of the most polarizing cultural flashpoints in modern American history. At a time when emotions still ran raw, headlines screamed “Ground Zero Mosque,” and politicians fanned the flames of division, Bailey’s task was not just legal – it was existential: to defend the rights of a marginalized religious community to build, and to do so in a city still struggling to define how to remember its dead.

 

The legal attacks came fast. One of the most publicized lawsuits was filed by Timothy Brown, a former firefighter and 9/11 responder who claimed that the building’s proposed location was an affront to the memory of those lost. Brown sought to halt the project by having the existing structure declared a historic landmark, a move that would effectively block demolition and development. For Bailey, this was more than a preservation fight – it was a thinly veiled effort to weaponize zoning and land use laws against religious freedom. 

 

“In a case like this, you’re not just battling legal arguments,” says Bailey. “You’re battling fear, misinformation and a deep national trauma.” 

 

Bailey’s approach was surgical. He challenged Brown’s legal standing, successfully arguing that emotional offense, however heartfelt, did not constitute a legally recognized injury. 

He defended the Landmarks Preservation Commission’s decision not to designate the building, a non-descript former Burlington Coat Factory, as historically significant. And perhaps most critically, he anchored his arguments in the bedrock of the First Amendment and property rights – principles designed to endure even in the face of overwhelming public sentiment. 

 

It was a really important, powerful case for housing and civil rights – and the industry hated me for it.

 

Ultimately, in July of 2011, the New York State Supreme Court sided with Bailey and the developers, dismissing the suit and clearing the way for Park51 to proceed. The legal victory was far from a public one. Death threats, vitriolic media coverage, and persistent political attacks followed. Bailey, who had taken the case for free, bore the brunt of defending a deeply unpopular cause – a role few lawyers were willing to play. 

 

But that is part of what defines Bailey’s legal legacy. He didn’t just win on paper. He stood up in a moment when standing up meant standing alone. In doing so, he reaffirmed the legal system’s ability to protect those most vulnerable to being silenced – even in moments of extreme emotional upheaval.  

 

Park51 would eventually be scaled back, its original vision never fully realized. But the precedent endured. The right to build, the right to pray, the right to exist – all held firm, not because public opinion demanded it, but because the law still did.  

 

Turning Stumbling Blocks Into Stepping Stones

 

Bailey is well aware that his work takes place in the public eye and is no stranger to intense scrutiny. During the 2008 housing collapse, while many were still trying to make sense of the financial wreckage, Bailey quietly began applying a little-known federal statute from 1968 to help NYC homeowners purchase their homes at a steep discount to match the amount that weary banks were willing to loan during the Housing Crisis or the right to terminate their contracts – the Interstate Land Sales Full Disclosure Act. The law, long forgotten by most, required developers of large condo projects to disclose specific information to buyers. Almost none had complied. By invoking the statute, Bailey helped clients renegotiate contracts and secure significant discounts on their homes. In some cases, buyers got every dollar back. It was a legal masterstroke – and not one the industry took lightly. 

 

“It was a really important, powerful case for housing and civil rights,” says Bailey. “And the industry hated me for it.” 

 

He felt the retaliation. One real estate magazine published a piece labeling Bailey “Public Enemy Number One Against Developers.” According to Bailey, the article had been pushed by those developers, and was riddled with inaccuracies. To him, the slight wasn’t just personal – it was emblematic of a deeper rot. Media outlets, he realized, weren’t always free. Some admitted to cutting deals with developers, promising not to cover him in exchange for advertising dollars. 

 

“That was devastating. It was a wake-up call,” Bailey says. “When even the First Amendment is for sale, what hope does truth have?” 

 

With visibility comes both influence and backlash. Over time, Bailey has grown disillusioned with the idealism that once inspired him in law school. He used to believe that justice would prevail and that the legal system was built to protect the vulnerable. But years of practice have revealed how corruption seeps in – not just through individuals, but more often, and more troublingly, through the very institutions tasked with upholding the public trust. The dream of defending people’s rights hasn’t vanished, but it has been tempered by hard-earned experience. It’s no longer a given – it’s something Bailey now understands must be fought for. 

 

“You have to be able to handle a lot of pain doing what I do,” says Bailey. “I didn’t know it at the time, but my painful childhood was preparing me for everything I do today.” 

 

Perspective and The Past

 

Long before he was making headlines in courtrooms, Bailey was being shaped by a far quieter kind of adversity. Born in Bayside, Queens, he was raised in a financially unstable home, his parents both schoolteachers who were often unemployed. Living with that sort of financial and housing insecurity still colors Bailey’s sense of justice today. His family’s cross-country move to California in search of work left an emotional imprint that would gradually influence his understanding of what home means – and who gets to have one.   

 

When even the First Amendment is for sale, what hope does truth have?

Bailey eventually made his way back east and graduated with honors from Rutgers University and Syracuse University College of Law. His parents may have struggled financially, but they supplied him with something that money couldn’t buy – unwavering confidence.  

 

“They treated me like I had special gifts,” Bailey says. “I always had that inner confidence, which I love. Every parent should know how easy it is to take confidence away – and how hard it is to get it back.” 

 

That confidence offered a clarity of purpose that drew him to real estate law on the very first day of law school. A property law professor introduced him to Pierson v. Post, a centuries-old dispute over a fox hunt that captivated him – not because of the drama, but because of what it said about human behavior, rules and ownership. It was the beginning of a lifelong fascination with how cities function, how communities coexist and how the law can – or should – help people find a place to live. 

 

“I didn’t want to defend criminals or fight over divorces,” says Bailey. “I wanted to use the law to build things – not tear them apart.”  

 

His early hands-on legal work came in the form of a real estate clinic in Syracuse, where he helped underserved tenants and property owners facing housing insecurity. Years later, he would carry that same spirit into the courtroom, often representing marginalized individuals fighting against powerful boards, landlords or institutions.  Like the time he went up against Trump. 

 

Trump SoHo Litigation – Redefining Truth in Real Estate Marketing

 

In one of the most notorious real estate fraud cases of the past two decades, Bailey represented a group of buyers who had purchased luxury condominiums at the Trump SoHo New York, a $450M hotel-condominium tower developed by the Trump Organization and its partners. Filed in federal court in February 2011, the lawsuit alleged that the developers had fraudulently inflated sales figures, creating the false impression of robust demand and strong investment potential in what was, they alleged, a struggling project.