My First Blog!

I wrote my first blog, from Taft Federal Prison Camp, on October 12, 2008. At the time I had no idea that I would write a book or speak or consult. I just knew that I had to start serving my prison term differently. Several months into my prison term, I noticed that many of my white-collar friends were racked with anxiety as their release dates approached. Imagine spending four years in jail, and then when it was time to go home you were crippled with fear and anxiety. Why? Our conviction strips us of our licenses, dignity, pretensions, and respect. Must I continue? I knew that if I failed to prepare for the challenges ahead I would be one of those men. Hence, I decided to use my brain and wrote my first blog, which I have attached below.

Earlier this week, while working on my website with my buddy Micah Blu from BluPrints Media, I noticed that my first blog never actually made it onto my blog roll. Can you really know me or understand my message without reading my first blog? Please do not answer.

My first blog will always be special to me for so many reasons. Blogging helped reopen doors I was told would remain closed forever. So with great pride and fulfillment I am pleased to post my first blog from Taft Camp- only 13 months late!

October 12, 2008

It’s Sunday October 12, 2008. I’m in my assigned cubicle at Taft’s minimum-security camp. I’m seated in a plastic chair with my feet propped up on the steel frame on my bunk. My 2 by 4 locker is open and on the inside of the door I see a calendar that I’ve drawn in pencil. I notice that more than 5 months have passed since my imprisonment began, back on April 28, 2008. It’s hard to believe I made it this far.

I still remember the day I self-surrendered to prison. My brother and mother dropped me off with the clear understanding that it would be more than a year before I would walk back out the front door.

I’m serving an 18-month for crimes related to my career as a securities broker at UBS. I had graduated from USC in 1997, and I had built a successful practice as a professional investment advisor in my 20’s. My particular focus was managing money for professional baseball players, and executing bulk trades for hedge fund managers. Prison was not part of the life trajectory I had envisioned.

The investigation that led to my confinement started on December 15, 2004. From that day forward I felt wrecked with anxiety. Living in denial, I made some awful decisions. My delusions that I would not be targeted for prosecution led me into a web of lies. Those lies resulted in me spending tens of thousands in unnecessary legal expenditures, and they exposed me to the potential of much stiffer sanctions.

Besides the cost, which is too great too mention, my total ignorance of the legal process resulted in unnecessary stress for my family and friends. None of us knew anyone who had gone through the criminal justice system before. My life quickly turned into one self-fulfilling prophecy convincing everyone around me that it would be fine.

I failed to study so I could learn the differences between minimum-security camps and those lockdown prison shows that have become so popular on those alternative television networks. I still remember my mother telling me, “Son you are not made for prison, so you’d better prepare and cooperate fully”. Her advice went in one ear and out the other.

It took more than 2 ½ years for me to even accept that was prison was even a possibility. Once I did, I advanced through the process as if I was a man in his final days. As far as I could see my life was over; washed up at 33 years old. I ate like a glutton, gaining 20 pounds. Humiliated by my lost fortunes, I neglected everyone by hiding. I wanted it all to end, yet from the time I opened my eyes in the morning, till the time I lay down to sleep, all I could feel was the vortex into which I was sinking.

In retrospect, I know that what I needed was a guide. My struggles felt magnified because I had no idea abut what would happen from one day to the next. It turns out, my concerns about prison were way overblown. It is no Club Fed, but without fences and bars, Taft is hardly reminiscent of a “true” prison. When I asked my attorney what I could expect, he could not provide the specifics I needed. “You’ll be fine”, was the best he could muster.

The day I self-surrendered was the worst. I just had no idea about what to expect. The handcuffing, the strip search, the fingerprinting, the DNA sample, and mug shot initially seemed too much to take. I was locked in a small cell while I waited to be processed to the Camp. When I finally made it to the camp, I felt exhausted and lost. I remember feeling overwhelmed as if the months would never pass.

I did not know anything about good time possibilities, or halfway house options, or what awaited me on supervised release. I tried to sleep but struggled with the tormented thoughts that came with my separation from home, community, dog, and of course women. The concrete and steel of prison, the indignity of common restrooms, the total lack of privacy seemed to much to take.

Day by day, however, I grew stronger. I began to set little goals, and empowered myself with success. Exercise helped. I had been a baseball player through USC, yet the pursuit of my career brought a simultaneous neglect of my fitness. On my second day of prison I began to run. I huffed and puffed around the track, determined to power through three miles. I rode the stationary bike, and strength trained with pushups, pull-ups, and dips. Slowly, I could see that I was willing myself into better spirits.

After a few months, I reached a small victory when my counselor agreed to transfer me from a three-man cubicle into a two-man cubicle. Then, a couple of months after that, I was promoted to a job that offered more time for me to work on my personal goals. The time opened more opportunities for introspection. That was when I realized that others were confronting the same challenges as me. Convinced that I could help them, I decided to begin writing this daily journal. Through these daily recordings of my personal activities, I strive to spare others the anxieties that accompany the unknown. I want those who are confronting a criminal charge to grasp the realities rather than the debilitating myths about what is to come. These daily posting will illustrate the ups and downs of the prison experience, and with more than five months of confinement behind me in the books, I speak with authority when I write that the journey does not have to be a waste.

By following these daily postings through these final months of my confinement, I intend to provide readers with a glimpse into the unknown world of confinement. Come with me, follow me, learn from me. This glimpse will empower those who anticipate a struggle with the criminal justice system. It will help them make better decisions, and it will enable them to move forward with confidence. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is kind, and where there is darkness, my writings will provide sight.

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