Quick Facts About William Ackman: Net Worth, Personal Life and Why He Donated $10K To Renee Good's Killer

It was a transaction that reverberated far beyond Wall Street. When billionaire investor Bill Ackman publicly confirmed his financial support for Jonathan Ross, the ICE agent accused of shooting Minneapolis resident Renée Good, it illuminated the stark ideological fault lines fracturing the United States.

The incident, which unfolded on 7 January during a tense law enforcement operation, has already sparked a national reckoning over police accountability.

By stepping into this volatile arena with a donation to Ross's legal defence, the Pershing Square founder has positioned himself not just as an observer but as an active participant in the culture war surrounding the tragedy.

For supporters, Ackman's move reflects faith in due process. For critics, it symbolises how power and privilege shape whose stories receive protection.

Who is William Ackman and How Much is He Worth

Ackman, 59, is the founder of one of the world's most prominent activist hedge funds. According to Forbes, his net worth stood at approximately $9.4 billion in mid-2025, placing him firmly among America's wealthiest financiers.

Born on May 11, 1966, the billionaire hedge fund manager has built his empire as founder and chief executive of Pershing Square Capital Management, an investment firm renowned for its activist approach to corporate governance. Beyond the markets, Ackman has styled himself as a public intellectual and political operator, a man willing to bet big money on his beliefs.

His wealth comes from decades of shrewd investing and aggressive corporate activism, which has made him one of Wall Street's most controversial figures. Yet this particular donation marked a striking departure from his historical political leanings, revealing a man willing to place his considerable clout and capital behind a divisive cause.

Ackman's Political Pivot: From Democrats to Trump

The donation becomes even more provocative when contextualised within Ackman's shifting political trajectory. For years, he was a reliable donor to Democratic candidates and organisations, but in 2024, he dramatically endorsed Donald Trump for president. More recently, Ackman has become an ardent supporter of Israel, particularly since the 7 October attacks, using his platform to criticise pro-Palestinian university protests. That ideological transformation informed his decision to support Ross.

On X (formerly Twitter), Ackman articulated his reasoning with characteristic conviction. 'I am big believer in our legal principal that one is innocent until proven guilty,' he wrote. 'To that end, I supported the @gofundme for Jonathan Ross and intended to similarly support the gofundme for Renée Good's family (her gofundme was closed by the time I attempted to provide support).' He framed the entire situation as tragedy, observing that 'The whole situation is a tragedy. An officer doing his best to do his job, and a protester who likely did not intend to kill the officer but whose actions in a split second led to her death.'

The GoFundMe That Became a Political Statement

What makes Ackman's contribution particularly striking is the campaign itself and the fundraiser behind it. The GoFundMe launched by Clyde Emmons, who claimed to be acting in Ross's interest, employed inflammatory language that revealed the appeal's partisan nature. The campaign referred to Good as a 'domestic terrorist' while insisting that Ross was 'one thousand per cent justified in the shooting'.

By the time Ackman made his donation, the Ross campaign had raised $339,383 towards its $550,000 target. Emmons acknowledged that he didn't personally know Ross's family at first, but claimed to have contacted the ICE agent's father and intended to transfer all funds directly to him. The fundraiser eventually transformed into a larger campaign that directly benefited Ross himself.

The contrast with Good's situation was impossible to ignore. A separate GoFundMe launched for her family ultimately raised approximately $1.5 million, so vast that campaign organisers closed donations and announced they would place the money into a trust for Good's loved ones. Good, according to the BBC, had been volunteering as a legal observer at the scene—a role that involves monitoring law enforcement conduct during operations.

What Ackman's Support Reveals About America's Divides

Ackman's personal life has evolved considerably over the past two decades, mirroring, in some ways, the nation's turbulent journey.

He was married to Karen Ann Herskovitz, a landscape architect, from 1994 until their 2016 separation. They had three children together. In 2018, he became engaged to Israeli-American designer Neri Oxman, and the couple married at Central Synagogue in Manhattan in January 2019, welcoming their first child together that spring.

His current life—marked by his marriage to Oxman, his $90 million Manhattan penthouse, and his Gulfstream G550 business jet—places him at the absolute apex of American wealth and privilege.

Yet his willingness to donate to Ross's legal defence revealed something deeper about the ideological realignment happening among America's elite.

The donation wasn't simply about supporting an individual; it was a statement about which narratives, which victims, and which versions of justice deserve amplification.

For a billionaire with Ackman's platform and influence, the $10,000 contribution functioned as much as a political signal as a financial one. His explanation that he would have supported Good's family had the opportunity presented itself rang hollow to many observers, particularly given the asymmetry in how he chose to deploy his advocacy.

Ackman's entry into this controversy underscored how America's deep political divisions have begun to reshape even the most fundamental questions about right and wrong, justice and accountability, who bears responsibility when lives are lost, and whether a split-second decision that ends someone's life warrants celebration, condemnation, or something more ambiguous.

The Minneapolis shooting, filtered through Ackman's actions, has become less about one fatal encounter and more about whose version of justice carries weight in a deeply divided America.