text: A 17-year-old Queens boy's $72 million earned on the stock market are "about as real as monopoly money," a public relations firm for the teen said late Monday. 
   
   Mohammed Islam's story of earning multi-millions based off of knowledge gleaned from an investment club at Stuyvesant High School was first published by New York Magazine and soon after went viral. But on Monday evening, Islam and a close friend also featured in the story, Damir Tulemaganbetov, came clean to the New York Observer, explaining the story was a rumor that media attention spun out of control into a full blown lie. 
   
   "The NY Magazine article about Mohammed Islam is inaccurate," Ronn Torossian, president of 5W Public Relations, told NBC News. "A 17-year old boy who lives in Elmhurst, Queens responded to a reporter's inquiry and created an inaccurate story. He sincerely regrets this." 
   
   "While Mr. Islam runs an investment club at Stuyvesant High which does simulated trades, his millions are about as real as monopoly money," the statement continued. 
   
   Torossian said the teen "simply didn't realize the consequences of his actions" and is sorry and hurt by the embarrassment the fabricated story caused his family. 
   
   SOCIAL: 
   
   #RTLNY: Because a Stuyvesant senior made $72 million trading stocks on his lunch break http://t.co/cHu1QAkJTY pic.twitter.com/HofWdKFTJs — New York Magazine (@NYMag) December 15, 2014 
   
   —Richie Duchon and TODAY's Deb Huberman ||||| It’s been a tough month for fact-checking. After the Rolling Stone campus rape story unraveled, readers of all publications can be forgiven for questioning the process by which Americans get our news. And now it turns out that another blockbuster story is—to quote its subject in an exclusive Observer interview—”not true.” 
   
   Monday’s edition of New York magazine includes an irresistible story about a Stuyvesant High senior named Mohammed Islam who had made a fortune investing in the stock market. Reporter Jessica Pressler wrote regarding the precise number, “Though he is shy about the $72 million number, he confirmed his net worth is in the �?high eight figures.’ ” The New York Post followed up with a story of its own, with the fat figure playing a key role in the headline: “High school student scores $72M playing the stock market.” 
   
   And now it turns out, the real number is … zero. 
   
   In an exclusive interview with Mr. Islam and his friend Damir Tulemaganbetov, who also featured heavily in the New York story, the baby-faced boys who dress in suits with tie clips came clean. Swept up in a tide of media adulation, they made the whole thing up. 
   
   Speaking at the offices of their newly hired crisis pr firm, 5WPR, and handled by a phalanx of four, including the lawyer Ed Mermelstein of RheemBell & Mermelstein, Mr. Islam told a story that will be familiar to just about any 12th grader—a fib turns into a lie turns into a rumor turns into a bunch of mainstream media stories and invitations to appear on CNBC. 
   
   Here’s how it happened. 
   
   Observer: What was your first contact with the New York magazine reporter? 
   
   Mohammed Islam: My friend’s father worked at New York magazine and he had the reporter contact me. Then she [Jessica Pressler] called me. 
   
   You seem to be quoted saying “eight figures.” That’s not true, is it? 
   
   No, it is not true. 
   
   Is there ANY figure? Have you invested and made returns at all? 
   
   No. 
   
   So it’s total fiction? 
   
   Yes. 
   
   Are you interested in investing? How did you get this reputation? 
   
   I run an investment club at Stuy High which does only simulated trades. 
   
   If you had been playing with real money, would you have done really well? 
   
   The simulated trades percentage was extremely high relative to the S&P. 
   
   Where did Jessica Pressler come up with the $72 million figure? 
   
   I honestly don’t know. The number’s a rumor. 
   
   She said “have you made $72 million?” 
   
   [I led her to believe] I had made even more than $72 million on the simulated trades. 
   
   At this point the PR reps jumped in with Law & Order-style objections. A conference outside the room ensued. Back into the room came Mr. Islam. 
   
   All I can say is for the simulated trades, I was very successful. The returns were incredible and outperformed the S&P. 
   
   Damir, tell me where you fit into this. 
   
   Damir Tulemaganbetov: Well, I got excited by this whole trading thing and I said hey, let me get on board. I heard about this article coming out and Mohammed invited me and I met Jessica. 
   
   But you guys are pals outside of this? 
   
   We go to social gatherings and friends’ places. 
   
   Are you into stock-picking as well? 
   
   I haven’t been into it but I’m interested. 
   
   Mohammed, you’re from Queens and you go to this elite public high school. Is this a hobby of your parents as well or would you be the first person in your family to pursue high finance? 
   
   Mohammed Islam: In my immediate family, just me. 
   
   So what did your parents think when they’re reading that you’ve got $72 million? 
   
   Mohammed Islam: Honestly, my dad wanted to disown me. My mom basically said she’d never talk to me. Their morals are that if I lie about it and don’t own up to it then they can no longer trust me. … They knew it was false and they basically wanted to kill me and I haven’t spoken to them since. 
   
   You haven’t? Where did you sleep last night? 
   
   Mohammed Islam: At a friend’s house. But we didn’t sleep. 
   
   Damir Tulemaganbetov: We stayed awake all night. We’ve been checking out news all over the world. 
   
   Are your friends blowing up your phones? 
   
   Damir Tulemaganbetov: He had 297 unread messages and 190 LinkedIn. All the friends shared it. 
   
   Mohammed Islam: It was hyped up beyond belief. 
   
   Damir Tulemaganbetov: We were at CNBC. That’s why we’re dressed up. But we were there and literally in the building stressing out. We had 20 minutes. Then we three times asked them could we have 20 seconds to talk? 
   
   [The boys ended up cancelling the CNBC appearance.] 
   
   Where do you go from here? 
   
   Damir Tulemaganbetov: Socially, people will be mad about it. But we’re sorry. Especially to our parents. Like my dad would read this and be like, “Oh my God,” because he’s a very humble man and I portrayed him like a bad father. 
   
   Mohammed Islam: At school, first things first. I am incredibly sorry for any misjudgment and any hurt I caused. The people I’m most sorry for is my parents. I did something where I can no longer gain their trust. I have one sister, two years younger, and we don’t really talk. 
   
   So that’s that. There was no $72 million, no “eight figures,” not even one figure. The story is already coming unglued as the commenters on New York�?s site hammer the reporter for even thinking this was possible. New York has now altered its headline to back away from the $72 million figure but the story itself remains. Even if this working-class kid had somehow started with $100,000 as a high school freshman on day one at Stuy High, he’d have needed to average a compounded annualized return of something like 796 percent over the three years since. C’mon, man. 
   
   It’s not hard to see why the story was tough to resist for New York, which placed Mr. Islam’s alleged acumen at No. 12 in its 10th annual “Reasons to Love New York” issue. Ms. Pressler quoted him saying, “It’s not just about money. We want to create a brotherhood. Like, all of us who are connected, who are in something together, who have influence, like the Koch brothers …” Yep, nothing says success—or search engine optimization—quite like “Koch brothers.” 
   
   No one asked for my opinion, but I’m going to provide it anyway, having sat with these kids for a good bit on a tough day. They got carried away. They’re not children. But they’re not quite adults, either, and at least Mr. Islam was literally quaking as we spoke. So yeah, they probably should have known better. But New York and the New York Post probably should have, as well. This story smelled fishy the instant it appeared and a quick dance with the calculator probably would have saved these young men—and a couple reporters—some embarrassment. ||||| 
   
   
   
   Editor's Note: In the most recent edition of New York, its annual Reasons to Love New York issue, the magazine published this story about a Stuyvesant High School senior named Mohammed Islam, who was rumored to have made $72 million trading stocks. Islam said his net worth was in the "high eight figures." As part of the research process, the magazine sent a fact-checker to Stuyvesant, where Islam produced a document that appeared to be a Chase bank statement attesting to an eight-figure bank account. After the story's publication, people questioned the $72 million figure in the headline, which was written by editors based on the rumored figure. The headline was amended. But in an interview with the New York Observer last night, Islam now says his entire story was made up. A source close to the Islam family told the Washington Post that the statements were falsified. We were duped. Our fact-checking process was obviously inadequate; we take full responsibility and we should have known better. New York apologizes to our readers. 
   
   Rumors, on Wall Street, can be powerful. A whisper can turn into a current that moves markets, driving a stock price up or sending it tumbling. There may be only one other place where gossip holds such sway, and that is high school. 
   
   Late last year, a rumor began circulating at Stuyvesant that a junior named Mohammed Islam had made a fortune in the stock market. Not a small fortune, either. Seventy-two million. 
   
   An unbelievable amount of money for anyone, not least a high-school student, but as far as rumors go, this one seemed legit. Everyone at Stuy knew that Mohammed, the soft-spoken son of Bengali immigrants from Queens and the president of the school’s Investment Club, was basically a genius. 
   
   As the news spread, Mo’s stock went up. The school paper profiled him, Business Insider included him on a list of “20 Under 20,” and Mo became “a celebrity,” as his friend Damir Tulemaganbetov put it on a recent Friday night at Mari Vanna near Union Square. “A VIP!” 
   
   Mo, a cherubic senior with a goatee and slight faux-hawk, smiled shyly. “He’s quiet today,” said Patrick Trablusi, who was seated with Mo and Damir at a table littered with empty glasses. “Humble.” And tired: “This is our third meeting of the day,” Damir said, signaling to the waitress for another round. “We saw a real-estate agent, a lawyer, you …” 
   
   “Next we’re going to see a hedge-fund guy,” Patrick said. The friends locked eyes and started to giggle. 
   
   “He basically wants to give us $150 million,” Mo explained, a blush like a sunset creeping over his cheeks. 
   
   The waitress arrived with a tray of green drinks. “Freshly squeezed apple juice,” Damir said, passing them around. “It’s very good. Do you like caviar?” 
   
   After Mo became a celebrity, things got a little awkward at school. (“Aren’t you the kid who made all that money?” a teacher asked him.) So he “reconnected” with kids from his old school, Allen-Stevenson. One of them introduced him to Patrick, an aspiring financier, who introduced him to Damir at a poker game attended by kids whose parents are, according to Damir, “the one percent of the one percent.” 
   
   The son of a Kazakh oligarch, Damir is tall, slim, and cocky, like a cigarette wearing a fedora. “I call the poker game ‘Destiny,'"he said. The waitress arrived with a plate. “Here, have some caviar.” 
   
   Over late nights out and dinners at Morimoto, the three hatched a plan to start a hedge fund. “There are a lot of steps we have to follow through,” said Patrick, calling to mind a more serious Chuck Bass. “But we’re on the right track.” They plan to launch in June, after Mo turns 18 and can get his broker-dealer license. “Mo’s our maestro,” Patrick said. “He’s going to be earning the big bucks. We’re just going to try to fill his needs.” 
   
   All three plan to attend college next year, but they’re not concerned about classes getting in the way of their goal: “A billion dollars!” Damir said. “By next year!” Mo affirmed the number with a nod. “But it’s not just about money,” he added. “We want to create a brotherhood. Like, all of us who are connected, who are in something together, who have influence, like the Koch brothers …” 
   
   “Like in Wolf of Wall Street!” Damir interjected. “And Mo is Jordan Belfort.” 
   
   “No, but, not like that,” Patrick said, blanching slightly. 
   
   Like Belfort, Mo started with penny stocks. A cousin showed him how to trade. He loved the feeling of risk—the way his hand shook making the trade—but he swore it off after losing a chunk of the money he’d made tutoring. “I didn’t have the balls for it,” he said. He was 9. 
   
   It was a while before he was ready to try again. In the meantime, he became a scholar of modern finance, studying up on hedge-fund managers. He was particularly enamored of Paul Tudor Jones. “I had been paralyzed by my loss,” Mo said. “But he was able to go back to it, even after losing thousands of dollars over and over. Paul Tudor Jones says, ‘You learn more from your losses than from your gains.’ ” Mo got into trading oil and gold, and his bank account grew. Though he is shy about the $72 million number, he confirmed his net worth is in the “high eight figures.” More than enough to rent an apartment in Manhattan—though his parents won’t let him live in it until he turns 18—and acquire a BMW, which he can’t drive because he doesn’t yet have a license. Thus, it falls to his father to drive him past Tudor Jones’s Greenwich house for inspiration. “It’s because he is who he is that made me who I am today,” Mo said. 
   
   Which is to say: a believer in Wall Street. “A lot of young people do start-ups, but I think it’s a bubble. Trading and investments will always be there. Money will always be rotating—” 
   
   “Money never sleeps!” Damir added. “That’s from the Wall Street movie.” 
   
   “It all comes down to this,” Mo continued. “What makes the world go round? Money. If money is not flowing, if businesses don’t keep going, there’s no innovation, no products, no investments, no growth, no jobs.” 
   
   The check arrived for the caviar and apple juice. It totaled $400. 
   
   “New York, that’s where the money’s at,” Damir shouted, pulling out a credit card. 
   
   This reminded me of an old joke about robbing banks because that’s where the money is. Damir grinned. “My father has a quote,” he said. “It’s really dope: ‘You can rob a bank with a gun, but you can rob the whole world with a bank.’ ” 
   
   Patrick buried his face in his hands. “At the end of the day,” he said, “we’re young kids.”
target: – A New York City high school senior grabbed plenty of headlines yesterday after being named one of New York magazine's "Reasons We Love New York." What was so loveable and New York-y about Mohammed Islam? As the headline of reporter Jessica Pressler's piece proclaimed, "Because a Stuyvesant Senior Made $72 Million Trading Stocks on His Lunch Break." Except the 17-year-old totally didn't, Mohammed now tells the Observer's Ken Kurson. In an interview that took place in the offices of his newly engaged PR firm, with a lawyer by his side, Mohammed says "No, No, Yes" as answers to the following: Did he, as Pressler wrote, make eight figures? Has he invested and made anything off it? Is the story complete fiction? He tells the Observer that he does run an investment club at his school, and that his simulated trades' return was pretty impressive. And, yeah, he did lead Pressler to believe "I had made even more than $72 million on the simulated trades." But as the head of his new PR firm says in a statement to NBC News, "A 17-year old boy who lives in Elmhurst, Queens, responded to a reporter's inquiry and created an inaccurate story. ... His millions are about as real as monopoly money." Kurson's take? A few minutes with a calculator would have prevented another fact-checking mess. "Even if this working-class kid had somehow started with $100,000 as a high school freshman on day one at Stuy High, he’d have needed to average a compounded annualized return of something like 796% over the three years since. C’mon, man." New York, for its part, maintains that "Mohammed provided bank statements that showed he is worth eight figures, and he confirmed on the record that he’s worth eight figures."