Today I return to USC to handle an ethics orientation at the business school. I can’t believe one year has already passed. So much has happened, and there is so much I need to do. I still work daily to become that man I wrote about in Lessons From Prison. It’s not easy, but with one year of freedom behind me, and a life time ahead of me, I can proudly say that I am on the right track.  Okay, off to Southern Cal..

USC Business School. September 9, 2009

Some people find it strange when I say that I was a prisoner for 11 years before I surrendered to federal prison.  Maybe not in an ordinary prison, but in a prison whose bars were feelings of entitlement and whose bars were fear of dissension and criticism. I lived in a prison of shallowness, arrogance, and greed. Those moral lapses led to my demise culminating with a struggle through the criminal justice system, replacing my imaginary bars with the realness of concrete and steel- I served time in federal prison.

Pleased to share the preface to my newest book, Ethics in Motion.

Preface

Since I was a convicted felon, many would see an irony in my having authored a book on ethics. In fact, on 17 May 2010, I was summoned to appear before United States District Court Judge Stephen Wilson and the hearing reminded me of exactly who I was. I was not “a person” but “the subject” of that judicial proceeding, and the judge’s refusal to consider me as a legitimate source for any type of ethics instruction became patently clear. I had a duty to prove otherwise.

The purpose of my court hearing concerned an unexpected tax refund of $31,908.04 that I received from the IRS. I was released from prison on 20 May 2009, but I remained under the close scrutiny of Mr. Isaiah Muro, a U.S. probation officer who was charged with the responsibility of supervising my release. When I called Mr. Muro to tell him of the surprise refund I had received, he told me that he would request a ruling from Judge Wilson to determine how much of the refund I could keep and how much I would have to surrender to pay toward the financial sanction that was a part of my sentence.

Since I walked out of prison 362 days before my court hearing, Mr. Muro had a relatively long history of supervising me. He understood the career I was striving to build and I found him supportive, firm but fair in his supervision. On account of my full compliance and cooperation with every request he made, Mr. Muro extended me a higher degree of liberty that I would have expected while working through the terms of my supervised release.

At 11.00 am sharp on the day of my hearing, everyone in the ornate courtroom rose to honor Judge Wilson as he entered. He sat in his high-backed chair on the dais, then began to review documents Mr. Muro submitted.

“I’m not sure why we’re here.” Judge Wilson readjusted himself in his seat as he cut to the heart of the matter. “I don’t see how Paperny is entitled to any money. He doesn’t have any rights.”

Beong Soo-Kim represented the government and he responded to Judge Wilson. “The government is prepared to work out an equitable split with Mr. Paperny.”  I welcomed support from the prosecutor. He proposed that the judge allow me to retain some percentage of the funds to pay off personal debts, to print copies of Lessons From Prison (a book I wrote during my prison term), and to promote my career as a speaker on ethics.

Judge Wilson chuckled. “He is a felon!” His voice boomed from the bench. “We need a lot of things in this world, but a felon speaking on ethics is not one of them.” The judge expressed contempt and doubts that my work could help anyone.

Joel Athey, the lawyer representing me, tried to argue on my behalf, describing efforts I’ve made to comply with my obligations and citing the six-figure amount I already had paid toward my commitment. The judge dismissed my lawyer’s arguments, interrupting him in mid sentence by saying he didn’t care about any efforts I had made to redeem myself. I was supposed to be broke, the judge said, to have nothing. As such, Judge Wilson ordered “the felon” to forfeit all funds other than the direct expenses associated with the preparation of my tax refund.

I understood Judge Wilson’s dismissal of me as a human being. Encountering resistance was a price I expected to pay—over and over again—for the remainder of my life. Because of my acceptance, such demoralization would not deter my efforts to reconcile with society; one contribution I could make was sharing what I have learned.

To that end I not only relied on personal experiences, I also studied and contemplated the work of others. In reading the writings of Plato, the great Western philosopher who lived more than 2,500 years ago, I accepted that the most important task for an evolving society was to teach those in our communities. Every citizen had a role to play in passing along valuable lessons.

I respected scholars and societal leaders like Judge Wilson. They were well suited to dispense wisdom and to show by personal example how making the right kinds of decisions engendered self-respect, dignity, integrity, and the embodiment of the best our enlightened society could produce. Yet I had a role too, and that role was to show the consequences that could follow bad decisions. I was the yin to their yang—or vice versa.

News sources reported daily about well-educated individuals who began their lives with privilege and high expectations. As I once did they led careers of promise. Through my work I could help them detect and avoid the toxic combination of pressure, rationalization, and capacity that threatened to lead values astray. I once lacked an appreciation for the power of such threats and temptations. As news reports confirmed, the same went for countless numbers of white-collar offenders who never thought they would face disgrace as they sat beside attorneys at defendant’s tables in courtrooms across America.

Despite my felony conviction (or perhaps because of it) I was positioned to show others how easily an ethical slide could lead down the chute of personal disaster and drop the transgressor into the iron jaws of the criminal justice system. This book would help to communicate that message.

In writing Ethics in Motion I thought about the time constraints of professionals and business students. They didn’t need another volume on ethical theory to decorate bookshelves. With trade publications, news stories, textbooks, casebooks, and other literature professionals already had too much to read. Still, professionals and business students could benefit from insight into the decisions that resulted in demise for tens of thousands of professionals every year. I wrote this book to provide such insight.

The chapters that follow profile individuals who once led lives of distinction as professionals in the business community. I gathered their stories through consulting services I offered to people who were struggling through criminal prosecutions for mail fraud, wire fraud, tax fraud, tax evasion, bribery, and other white-collar type crimes. Despite their erstwhile perceptions of being morally upstanding citizens, they fudged on government forms; they participated in bribery or corruption schemes; they used the mail, the telephone, or the Internet to convey information that would mislead. Whereas they wanted to believe their actions did not represent more than indiscretions, their stories showed how such indiscretions derailed the promise of their lives. By neglecting attention to ethical development they made decisions that resulted in the loss of their careers, tearing apart their family’s stability, reputation, and dignity. Their profiles showed how easily bad decisions could lead a person into our nation’s growing population of felons.

Readers may work through the chapters sequentially, but since each chapter stands on its own, a linear reading isn’t necessary. After describing my experiences, subsequent chapters show what I learned from others. They show how an executive decision to help a client, to advance the firm’s business, to close a deal, or to make things right resulted in their becoming targets of criminal prosecutions. Such profiles, I hope, will help those in my audience connect the dots. I want them to understand why it’s not enough “to know” that path to an ethical life. By passing along what I have learned I offer compelling reasons that show why individuals should commit to walking that path every day, with every decision in their personal lives and in their careers. They were lessons I learned the hard way.

Justin Paperny

17 August 2010

To make no mistakes is not in the power of man; but from their errors and mistakes the wise and good learn wisdom for the future.

Plutarch

Last evening while relaxing on my couch reading Elie Wiesel’s Night, I received a phone call from a very concerned young man.  Adam is a real estate professional who had just been indicted for mortgage fraud.

Adam, I learned through our ten-minute call, was one of 22 executives indicted for his alleged role in a property-flipping scheme. Allow me to clarify how the government feels about those who participate in property flipping schemes. William “Bill” Cotter, Acting Special Agent in Charge of the Internal Revenue Service-Criminal Investigation in San Antonio issued the following quote as the indictments were unsealed:

“These types of crimes create a significant loss of tax revenue, drive buyers into foreclosure, leave lenders burdened with bad loans and neighborhoods with abandoned and deteriorating properties. IRS CI is committed to pursuing individuals who create such havoc.”

Sadly, Adam, is clinging to many of the same denials that I once clung to: I didn’t set out to do anything wrong; everyone knew about it; it wasn’t my idea; and so forth. Unfortunately the justice system doesn’t factor in intent when indicting anyone they believe perpetuates crimes against society.

I didn’t set out to do anything wrong either, but it didn’t change the end result: I helped my client, Keith Gilabert, lose millions of dollars from unsuspecting investors, then helped him lie about it. Kenneth Sorosky (my former senior partner at UBS) and I tried to convince ourselves that it was ok to facilitate a Ponzi scheme because everyone at UBS knew that Gilabert had not only lost millions, but we also knew that he borrowed money from new investors to pay back earlier investors. We just convinced ourselves that it wasn’t our responsibility to shut it down.   And of course it was not my idea to start a hedge fund, but it doesn’t change my role—a role that helped turn investors into victims; a role that caused pain and shame for those that love and support me; a role that stripped me of one million dollars and worse—my reputation. I deserved to be sanctioned heavily, and I was. I may sound like a broken record, but disregarding ethical precepts and cutting corners necessitates preparation to endure the wrath of an unforgiving criminal justice system.

The journey for Adam (and the others indicted) in what the government is calling “Operation Stolen Dreams” will be long and arduous. It is supposed to be. In white-collar crime, it’s one strike and you’re out! But with hard work, he can come through the journey as a better man.

I can’t guarantee it, but I’d bet that a handful of these defendants are already living like the ostrich with their heads buried in the sand, hoping that if they do nothing somehow this will all go away. I once thought that too. Some are probably cooperating—smart! Some will take the case to trial, and probably lose. Some are hiring prison consultants, trying to get an idea of what they can expect.  Others are afraid to come clean to their lawyers, convincing themselves that they are not really criminals.  The prison terms will be all over the board, and those terms will absolutely be determined by how they respond today, tomorrow, and so on.

Adam is not yet ready to come to terms with what is transpiring. He insisted (during our conversation) that he was innocent and believes he will win at trial. I hope he’s right.

It troubles me when I hear others profess that the “banks” cannot be victims, because they are the real perpetrators. How does wrongdoing from another executive or even a company excuse individual wrongdoing?

I wished Adam well, and told him that I would be available for a modest fee— not if, but when he calls again. I just hope he doesn’t wait too long, because 21 of his former colleagues are sitting at home wondering if they should be the first to cut a deal.

I am pleased to introduce my newest book, Ethics in Motion.  The publisher will bring it to market next month.

I began working on the manuscript shortly after my release from prison last August. I worked at home, on airplanes, in coffee shops, even at the real estate office where I worked prior to my confinement, and which continues to welcome me with open arms.  I am grateful to so many, including Michael and Carole Santos. Both Michael and Carole, as usual, encouraged me to persevere. I would not have either of my books without their support. I would also like to thank Walt Pavlo for his endless encouragement.

As I have written since October 12, 2008—the day I penned my first blog from prison—my journey through the justice system has provided a golden opportunity to show the consequences that follow personal failure. Hardly a day passes without reading about well-educated individuals who began their careers with high expectations.  Yet disregarding ethics led many of those same individuals from their homes and families to strip searches and prison jump suits.

In writing Ethics in Motion, I thought about the time constraints of professionals and business students.  The last thing they needed was another treatise on ethics.  A volume on ethical theory may cure insomnia but I’m not sure it provides the practical insight required to overcome the myriad ethical challenges we face in our business and personal life.

Ethics in Motion profiles individuals who once led lives of distinction as professionals in the business community. I obtained their stories through consulting services I offered to people who were struggling through the justice system.  After describing my experiences, subsequent chapters show what I learned from others. I aspire to help readers understand how one minor transgression can easily lead to another, and in so doing decimate the lives we were meant to lead.  Sharing such stories, I hope, will provide practical reasons that illustrate the importance of facing dilemmas with openness, honesty, and courage—the toughest virtue of all.

In subsequent blogs, I will reveal more about the book, including my marketing plans. For now I am thrilled to announce Ethics in Motion, and to share some of the endorsements given in support of my work.

Praise for Ethics in Motion

“Justin has written an honest and compelling message that challenges all of us to examine our lives and to recalibrate the moral compass that directs our actions.”

Steve Reinemund, Dean of Business, Wake Forest University, Retired Chairman and CEO PepsiCo

“Ethics in Motion is riveting, thought-provoking, and real—Justin’s book has captured the icy cold reality of criminal behavior, and should be required reading for anyone in the corporate world and anyone interested in practical lessons on ethics.”

Mark Whitacre, Subject of the film, “The Informant”, starring Matt Damon

“You know right, when you do wrong, but to then pay your debt to society, learn the lessons of a life time and help others live better and more fulfilling lives is special.  That is Justin Paperny’s gift to any and all who read Ethics in Motion.”

Mark Goulston, author of the international best seller, “Just Listen” Discover the Secret to Getting Through to Absolutely Anyone.

“Throughout the lively pages of Ethics in Motion, Justin Paperny not only depicts the devastating life-long consequences of wrong choices he made within the pressurized financial world, but also how he regained his moral compass, reaching out to help others acknowledge, reflect, and learn from similar actions. Ethics in Motion is a highly thoughtful, accessible and engaging collection of real situations in which people veer from internal ethical codes, and through humility and perseverance find their way back to their principles.”

- Nomi Prins, Author of It Takes a Pillage

“With revealing and informative openness, Justin Paperny describes mistakes he made which resulted in his rapid transition from successful young professional to serving time in jail.  More than a cautionary tale, his reflections on what he learned, and his actions to get back on track, provide valuable insights for other young, ambitious professionals. Paperny also gathers a group of other real-world stories that shed light on how even very bright, talented people can lose their way, and work to find their way back.”

John Ullmen, Ph.D.Lecturer, UCLA Anderson School of Management and co-author of Who Wins Conflict? The Creative Alternative to Fight or Flight

“Forget the shows on television. Take a walk through what really happens when someone is associated with fraud and deception. Then, prepare yourself for what the government will do when it investigates white collar crime.”

Don Berecz (retired FBI) Director, Fraud and Forensic Accounting Program Georgia Southern University

“The value of Justin’s book to my MBA students is that is speaks to them –he doesn’t fit their stereotypical image of a felon–they could be him, clean cut, well educated, and from an upper middle class family with loving parents. He did not start out to break the rules, but as his chapters tell, it was those seemingly innocent little choices he made each day that defined his character and ultimately his fate. These are stories of the intellect, the ego, being seduced by short-term gain and dismissive of long-term wisdom.  For those who think “not me”, read this book before Justin’s experience becomes yours.”

Professor Dennis Torres, Pepperdine University, Graziadio School of Business and Management

“Few white-collar executives wake up one morning and decide to become criminals. Ethics In Motion illustrates in a way no textbook can how small indiscretions nevertheless lead some to lives of crime–and how the personal consequences are worse than they’d ever imagined.”

Neil Weinberg, Executive Editor, Forbes Media LLC

“Through Ethics in Motion I learned a great deal more about criminal mentality and behavior.  As a former FBI agent and a practicing forensic accountant who pursues criminals, I learned how criminals think and how they rationalize their actions.   To catch a crook, you need to think like one!”

Ronald Durkin, Durkin Forensic, Former Partner in Charge of Fraud and Misconduct Investigations KPMG

“Instead of retelling the stories of Enron, WorldCom or other highly publicized frauds, Justin tells the stories of our neighbors, our friends, our co-workers who took that first step and paid the price.  He tells these stories to warn us that none of us are immune to temptation and that first step can lead to a lifetime of regret.”

Tina Quinn, PhD, CPA Professor of Accounting Arkansas State University

“I feel that Ethics in Motion is a must read for all CPA’s.  The examples provided in the book do an excellent job of demonstrating how one step in the wrong direction could lead down a path to consequences that nobody wants to face.  The book is much more effective than our current professional requirements in addressing and provoking thought on ethical issues that we face as CPA’s on a daily basis.  Ethics in Motion would be a great tool to help young CPA’s understand some of the dilemmas that they may face in the years to come and just as important it could be an excellent reminder and tool for those of us that have practiced for years to stay on the right path.”

Steve Cleland, CPA, CFE, Beach Freeman Lim & Cleland, LLP

“Many of us cannot relate to Bernie Madoff or Bernie Ebbers or the crimes they committed. Justin Paperny, on the other hand, is someone we can identify with. He was a recent college graduate from a good family. He wanted to be a successful businessman. He wanted to make his parents proud. Is this the type of person who commits fraud? Apparently so. In an honest and an emotional story, we learn how a good guy went bad. Justin makes us believe that we are all capable of losing our way and teaches us the importance of staying on the right path. Unlike other books, this is not based on a theory…this is based on a reality. Let this convicted felon teach you about the real world that is full of pressure, opportunity and rationalization.”

Professor Rich Brody, CPA, CFE, CFF, FCPA, Anderson School of Management, University of New Mexico

“We are all better than our worst acts. Most of us have a past, too; but not all of us have a memorialized past. Justin Paperny’s Ethics in Motion is a superb example of a man who is accountable for his past by doing all he can to help others avoid the unforgiving mistakes which the best of us make when confronted with all the wrong circumstances.”

Michael Sweig, Founder, The PCR Institute, and People with Criminal Records

Earlier today, Carole Santos sent me a blog written by her husband, Michael Santos. The blog, which I have posted below, highlights why all incoming prisoners must be prepared to surrender to federal prison. Prison is uncomfortable enough, and those that neglect to plan do so at their own peril. I was lucky to meet Walt Pavlo prior to my surrender. Walt prepared me for the journey, then while in prison I had the privilege of working with Michael Santos. His endorsement of my services is both flattering and humbling. In many ways the advice I dispense is simply an extension of what Michael has been teaching in prison for more than two decades.

Prison Journal: Day 8,362

Today I spoke with Tom, a prisoner who recently self-surrendered to Taft Camp. When he turned himself in to the guards at the front, he gave them a money order for $50 that he bought from a local pharmacy. The guard told Tom that they would credit the $50 to his commissary account. What Tom didn’t know was that he would not be allowed to spend the money for two weeks, nor did he know that $50 would not be sufficient to purchase the items he would need to settle in.

Tom told me that he didn’t have any idea about what to expect from prison. He said that he thought the prison system would provide for all of his needs. It does, but a difference exists between needs and wants. Just as money eases life everywhere else in society, money makes life a bit easier in prison.

It wasn’t a matter of Tom not having money, just a matter of him not having sufficient information about what to expect. It was Tom’s defense attorney who gave him the inaccurate information and the wrong impression that $50 was all he needed to bring—for postage. That bad advice leaves Tom with an awkward initial adjustment.

My writings provide extensive descriptions about prison life, but perhaps it isn’t easy for people who are about to serve time to find all of my descriptions. I steer people to Justin Paperny, who offers consulting services for people about to self-surrender, and those who talk with him find value in the insight he offers. Unlike Tom, they come prepared and ready to begin a positive adjustment immediately.

The commissary list at Taft Camp details what is available for prisoners to purchase. Prisoners don’t have to buy anything. The prison provides clothing and food. But those who want to ease their life inside should plan on monthly expenditures. With expenses for telephone, postage, and food items, it is not unusual to spend $400 each month. Not all prisoners have the resources available to spend and they live just fine—but those who want to avoid the chow hall require money.

For those who surrender to prison camp with money, bringing either cash or a U.S. Postal money order is the only certain way to have money available to spend quickly (by prison standards). Those who want more detailed information should consult Justin.

Specifically, I was asked:

1- What started this mortgage fraud trend? What is the first real component of white-collar crime?

For me, my willingness to lie was the first real first component of white-collar crime. I suspect it was the same for those who engaged in fraudulent mortgage practices. Without question, most men in prison, at one time or another, were untrustworthy and liars.  The irony was that while living as the embodiment of deceit, I didn’t consider my actions as being inconsistent with self-perceptions of my essential goodness as a human being. “I was a big brother, a good son, sort of a good boyfriend,” I would tell myself, “I’m JP, I’m alright.”

2- While managing money were you Machiavellian?

Yes. In prison, while chilling in my upper bunk (10U), I read Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince. I knew it then. As an executive, I embraced Machiavelli’s suggestion that while living in a corrupt world, success required a person to master the art of deception. By lying and deceiving others I could get ahead, and getting ahead was what it was all about. I was too naive to understand that embracing Machiavellianism would augment my proclivity to mislead, dissemble, and embellish.

3- Were there any positives to living in prison? One positive—of the many– to wearing prisoners’ clothes were the catlike instincts I’ve developed to root out people who use treachery and deceit as a means to get ahead.  In prison I read extensively on the subject—I still do. By default, I became a kind of cultural anthropologist, immersed in the study of felons—I still am. Frequently, I would sit in that large TV room at Taft Camp, listening to the outrageous stories my fellow prisoners would share. I grew to loathe those powerful inmates and their ilk pour poison into the ears of young malleable inmates. Worse, these men appear to be a paragon of virtue while disguising their calculating and beguiling ways. That knowledge, those experiences have helped me as I re-emerge back into the corporate world.

4- Are you more tolerant because you went to prison?

Yes, I am more tolerant. In prison, I realized that few of my fellow prisoners had the opportunities that I took for granted. Many endured struggles that I only read about or saw on TV.  While I am more tolerant I am not tolerant of everyone. Last March, a student at Wake Forest University insisted that my not being tolerant of everyone means that I am intolerant. To tolerate everyone, I told the student, would guarantee the downfall of tolerance.  To tolerate everything means we should tolerate Hilter or Madoff.  I am not implying that those who fail aren’t deserving of tolerance or for that matter, forgiveness.  Indeed, isn’t that what tolerance and forgiveness is all about?: giving it to those who need it most.  I think so, however, one has to prove why they are deserving of a second chance.

I’ll make this short and sweet, then let my buddy Michael Santos take it home.

Let’s examine the meaning of plagiarism and collaboration.

The dictionary defines plagiarism as the practice of taking someone else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.

The dictionary defines collaboration as the action of working with someone to produce or create something.

How do these words relate to me? Easy. I always give credit where credit is due. Both of my books, Lessons From Prison, and Ethics In Motion (forthcoming) are possible because of my collaboration with Michael Santos. I write well, but working with Mike helps me convey my message more clearly.

I live openly and transparently.  I want others to hold me accountable for everything I say and do.  That includes acknowledging honestly and proudly that I am thriving in this new life, in part, because of the help I have received from so many others. And I don’t just collaborate with Michael. I collaborate with Carole Santos, Walt Pavlo, and scores of professors across the country. I’m better because of it, and I hope that they are as well.

Some of Michael’s work has been plagiarized and his blog (posted below) describes this experience. I was at Taft Federal Prison Camp when the individual who is now taking credit for Michael’s work asked him for a copy. I advised Michael not to hand over his work for this very reason. “I have a feeling Mike, not a good one.” But Michael trusted that the individual would honor his ethical obligation to give credit. Unfortunately, not everyone subscribes to the same ethical standards. Michael’s work was taken and is being used without giving him proper credit. Unacceptable. Not a good idea to take from professional writers; we are too good with a pen and paper.

Jesus suggested the truth shall set you free. It’s never too late…

http://michaelsantos.net/prison-journal/prison-journal-day-8270/

Prison Journal: Day 8,270

April 1, 2010

Today a prison program at Taft Camp disrupted my progress. I had a productive morning catching up on correspondence, then I ran 10 miles. But at 8:00 I had to attend a program that the camp’s chaplain sponsored, and that program required me to abandon my plans for strength training. Besides the interference with my exercise, the program upset me because I considered it a knockoff of my work.

The program to which I refer was called the “Survival Quadrant” and it was ostensibly designed by Scott Evans. I write “ostensibly designed” because it is really a knockoff of a lengthy, detailed curriculum I wrote in 2008 that I called my “Quadrant Theory.”

I included my Quadrant Theory curriculum when I was facilitating a class that Scott offered here at Taft Camp. When he saw my presentation of the Quadrant Theory he asked for a copy of my work, saying how helpful it would be to his program and assuring me that he would provide me with credit. With that assurance in mind, I didn’t hesitate to give Scott a copy of all I had written.

That’s why I was bothered today when I sat through Scott’s presentation. Rather than giving credit to my work, as he assured me he would do, Scott told the group how ruminating on his own led to his creation of this new program that he called Survival Quadrant. The program featured a “copyright 2010 by Scott Evans” and “all rights reserved” in the lower left corner.

I do not feel threatened by Scott’s Survival Quadrant, but I feel an element of trust betrayed. The lifting of my work will not interfere with my progress or my continuing efforts to prepare for success upon release. I am clear on what I must accomplish, and the record is clear that I wrote the Quadrant Theory in 2008, long before Scott changed the name and printed worksheets with the misleading copyright notations. Besides, I don’t think anyone can claim ownership of the concepts, as I’ve seen quadrants used in lesson plans for economics, financial analysis, politics, and other social theories. What troubles me is that Scott asked me to provide him with a copy of my work, said he would give me credit for my work, then published it under his name, with the copyright seal and proceeded to market Survival Quadrant as a tool he designed in a creative burst. I considered the action disingenuous because some might misconstrue events as my lifting the concept from him—even though my Quadrant Theory article appeared on my Web site two years before he affixed his copyright seal and supposedly reserved rights.

When I confronted Scott with my sense of being betrayed he said that he had not even looked at the article on Quadrant Theory that he specifically requested from me in 2008. Since his presentation seemed modeled on what I wrote, I suggested he review it. The concept was incorporated in a new manuscript that will be published upon my release, and I will not be recognizing Scott’s claim of “all rights reserved.” My friend Justin Paperny was here when I gave Scott my Quadrant Theory curriculum, and he suggested that I should not provide Scott with my work.

Justin was right. I shouldn’t have given Scott a copy of my work. But in the end, the record I built is clear. Scott Evans cannot take credit for my work, even with his claim of copyright.

Today I ran 10 miles.

[consecutive running log: 4,217 miles over 475 days]

During the nearly 400 days that I served in prison, I recorded my daily activities. It was a strategy that helped me to ensure I was always productive and working toward the goals that I had set. I could use the daily journal entries to measure progress and to analyze whether my actions were consistent with my commitment to lead a values-based life.

We didn’t have access to computers in prison, so I wrote everything out with blue Bic pens that I purchased from the commissary for 38 cents each. I sent my writings home every day and my mother, Tallie, typed them for me and posted the writings on a daily blog I kept at justinpaperny.com.

When I was writing those entries, I hoped that my work would help others understand that regardless of what bad deeds a person had made in the past, individuals could always redirect their lives. At any time we could cease making decisions that led to disgrace and begin making decisions that would help us reconcile with law abiding society. Indeed, it’s possible to create a new public record that our loved ones can one day juxtapose with our criminal record. That is the only way, in my opinion, to overcome the challenges presented by a felony conviction. Michael Santos and Walt Pavlo did it. I want to be like them.

Since my return home to society I have consulted a number of defendants who have found value in my writings from prison. My clients reading my blogs are very much like me.  They were people who did not set out to scheme or rob; people who could never fathom the possibility of encountering such personal disgrace and failure. Most of them have suffered through months of despondency as they try to make sense of the tragic decisions that has taken them so far away from the lives they had aspired to lead.

I understand that people reach out to me for guidance because my postings on the Web show a day-by-day-record of growth through the adversity of confinement.  My clients need assurances that they can create meaning in their lives again.  By pleading guilty to felony charges, many of my clients feel as if they have lost their identities.  They look in the mirror and don’t recognize themselves. Depression darkens their lives, making it difficult to meet family and personal responsibilities, or even to climb out of bed.

“What should I do today?” my clients ask me.

First and foremost, I tell them, we must embody self-reliance. No one is going to save you. Michael Santos gave me hundreds of hours in prison but not without his disclosure, “JP, I will help you, but you must work–harder than you have ever imagined.” Michael Santos managed my expectations (I had to work), and that is exactly what I try to do with my clients. Self-pity, laziness, and self-loathing will only lead to more misery. I know. Stop googling your name and go for a hike. Stop blaming others for your plight in life and take your family out for the evening. YOU ARE NOT IN PRISON YET, so stop living as if you are.

My past experience of having grown up as a privileged Jewish kid from Encino, and going on to play baseball at USC before beginning a lucrative career as a stockbroker may make it easy for university students and business executives to identify with me.  The part of my personal story that distinguishes me from others was the diversion I took through the criminal justice system, the lessons I learned from prison, and the perspective that I have lived with since my mother, Tallie, drove me home from Taft Camp on May 20, 2009. I’ve come to call that perspective ethics in motion.

Since my release I have worked assiduously to ensure that this new perspective contributes to our society.  It’s not always easy.  At times I’m forced to recognize the contradiction that exists between the man I am today and the man I am striving to become.  My greatest challenge may be living up to those words I wrote inside that quiet room at Taft Federal Prison Camp.

Despite my character flaws and stubborn tendencies, I remain committed to daily introspections.  Such introspections should help me stay on course; as exercise would improve my physical fitness, contemplations would help me cultivate character. This is my message and I share it proudly.

Not everyone agrees that I’m worthy of sharing such messages.  In the fall of 2009 I participated in a radio interview with Frank Mottek on KNX 1070 in Los Angeles. Frank invited me to speak with him and his listeners about ethics, morality, and the consequences that follow when we crossed the line. Somewhat surprisingly, within a few days of my radio interview with Frank I received my first two pieces of hate mail. The letters, in summary, clarified the writers’ view that felons forfeited the right to speak about ethics or morality. These two men berated me as scum, expressed hope that others abused me in prison, and wrote that as a convicted criminal, I should recognize that I am an outcast in society and that I should act accordingly by remaining in the outskirts.

Let’s get some specifics:

1- “I heard you on the radio today. Well rehearsed, well scripted, but pure bull….. You are just a dirtball, not a consultant on ethics or morality.”

2- “You are just another failed USC punk with an unearned sense of entitlement and the evil to leach the blood of money of other people.”

3- “I hope you were beaten, even raped.”

4- “You should choose a profession more befitting your skill set.. like cleaning sewers.”

5- “Your kids lives are ruined and they aren’t even born yet.”

Receiving these letters can be sobering.  They remind me that regardless of my efforts to reconcile and to atone for the bad decisions I made as a stockbroker, some would never accept that I had any value to offer.  Reading such hateful comments made me feel very alone. In my mind, they put me right back in prison, where correctional counselors would speak condescendingly to me, or ask questions such as whether this was my first crime or simply the first time I was caught.

Here’s the bottom line: If I were to hide from the bad decisions of my past I might lessen my exposure to such slaps in the face. Hiding from my past, however, would be more like wearing a band aid that simply covered up my character flaws, and I want to redeem them. Others who have never been convicted of a felony may think of themselves as being better than me, and maybe they’re right. But in telling my story I am convinced that I can help others embrace the practical aspects for acting ethically at all times.

In Lessons From Prison I wrote a wise man is one who is secure in judging himself, yet tolerant in the judgment of others. For some reason, it’s just easier to judge and find flaws in others.

I believe that my experience through the justice system fulfills the need to show the consequences that could follow a lapse in ethics. This need has existed since the beginning of recorded history. In prison, I read excerpts from The New Testament.  The New Testament told us that when he was urged to condemn a woman for immoral conduct, Jesus responded by suggesting that he who was without character flaws should cast the first stone.  None of the accusers were without flaws and all walked away.

Although my background may be from the Jewish faith, I understood Jesus’s message. Despite everyone’s capacity to make bad decisions, some people in society would be inclined to ignore their own character flaws and potential downfall.

I understand that in failing to make honesty, integrity, and the other virtues that constituted good character a part of my every decision, I invited lifelong consequences. Regardless of how many good deeds I try to sow through society, daily reminders, like hate messages, would keep my criminal conviction as an indelible blemish on my life.

I wish I could go back to May of 1997, the month I graduated USC. I want a do over. Life does not offer do overs. Once we cross the line we have to live with the consequences. I am doing the best I can, and I will continue sharing this message, despite hate mail that castigates me as scum or trash or whatever else others elect to call me.

On a different note, I would like to send my condolences to the family of Andrew Altchek. Andrew was my close friend and running partner from Taft Camp. Andrew collapsed while running the track at Taft on March 21 and later passed away. He was only 48 years old.  I will miss his friendship, his wittiness, his demeanor.

Last night while editing an ethics project I’m collaborating on, I received an interesting e-mail message from Jessica, who is a business student at USC. Her message, I must admit, startled me at first because of the words she wrote in the subject line.  Jessica wrote:

PLEASE TELL ME AGAIN THAT STORY ABOUT THE PROSTITUTE. I AM TRYING TO PROVE A POINT TO A FRIEND AND I HAVE FORGOTTEN THE STORY. THANK YOU AND FIGHT ON!

A story about a prostitute? This is what I do now? I travel to Universities and talk about prostitution? My parents must be thrilled. Mom stop reading.

After reflecting for a few moments, I remembered a story I shared with Jessica’s MBA class a few months ago. The lesson was sound, and while I don’t think I have shared the story again, I may use it again in the future. Let’s just say I reserve the right to talk about prostitution!

I e-mailed Jessica thanking her for her inquiry, and told her that I would respond to her question through my blog. I shared the story with Jessica’s class, I think, because a student was adamant about the fact that he could “never do anything that would cross ethical lines. Never.”  Maybe it was the emphatic NEVER that led to my discussing prostitution. I should note that whenever I hear such assertions, I always applaud the students’ level of certainty. I was once the same way. To lighten the mood after hearing the student’s serious tone, I shared a joke I heard from inside the boundaries at Taft Federal Prison Camp.

Here it goes:

An older man with a prosperous look about him sat at a bar. After eyeing a striking young woman, he approached her.  Wasting little time with small talk, the man propositioned the woman. “If I were to give you $5 million dollars would you sleep with me?”

The woman paused for a moment while looking at the man, surprised at the question. When she answered, she answered yes.

“Would you sleep with me for $50 bucks,” the man followed up.

“What do you think I am, a prostitute?”

“We’ve already established that,” the man said. “Now we’re simply negotiating on the price.”

The point I strove to make in telling the joke was that when we failed to cultivate habits of good character, we make ourselves vulnerable to the baseness we detest, and rightfully attribute to an inferior character. A strong moral center could provide a foundation.

Like a dancer must never relent with practice, a person who strives to live a life of integrity must cultivate these habits daily. When we make such practices part of our daily lives—like exercise or brushing our teeth—we wouldn’t ever consider propositions that were inconsistent with the honest, unimpeachable people we considered ourselves to be.

So I ask you: Are your morals for sale? If yes, how much?

My answers to these questions while managing money would have gone something like this:

1- Are your morals for sale? Oh, yeah!

2- If yes, how much? $25,000 a month. No, no,no! Hold on a minute, let me think. Well, $50,000 a month in commissions seems like a nice round number.

Quite a simple exercise really. Try it.

Perhaps worst of all is the fact that it wasn’t until I went to federal prison that I accepted that my warped sense of values truly imperiled an identity that my parents worked so hard to mold, to frame. The consequences they brought convinced me of the need to change. In my case, I knew that change would require daily introspections—self-questioning about whether my motivations and actions were consistent with the values of honesty and integrity that I identified as driving me to a better life.

Living according to such values, I hope, will make me a better son, brother, husband, and father. When I am old and chubby and cranky and bald and my family is chiseling away the story of my life, I would want them to know that despite my crime, my myriad misdeeds, I worked hard to fulfill my obligations to live as a contributing citizen.

That’s my goal. What’s yours?