The Call That Changed Nothing
Seven days after I surrendered, I picked up the phone and called my sister-in-law, Sunny. I told her I got it. I told her I was ready to come home. I said prison had done its job—I’d learned my lesson. One week was enough. I’d made a mistake, and now I was ready to start over.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t reassure me. She just reminded me of the number: 372 days. I had served one.
That’s when the reality of my situation finally caught up with me. And it didn’t care how ready I thought I was.
When Consequences Start Counting
Most people assume the punishment begins when the sentence is handed down. Or maybe when they surrender to the Bureau of Prisons. But that’s not when it starts. It starts when everything you took for granted is no longer available:
- When your email account is shut down.
- When your business partner moves on.
- When your name gets pulled from the boardroom.
- When your license gets flagged for review.
- When your family sees your name in the paper—and you can’t explain it in person.
That’s the beginning of the sentence. And for many, it begins before the judge ever speaks.
What I Hadn’t Done
By the time I made that phone call, I had done nothing to prove I deserved leniency. I hadn’t written a single letter to show what I’d learned. I hadn’t put together a release plan. I hadn’t prepared a statement for the judge, or the probation officer, or even for myself. I just assumed the time I was serving would speak for itself.
It didn’t.
They didn’t send me home early. They didn’t shorten my sentence. They didn’t even acknowledge my phone call—because I hadn’t given them anything to work with.
Regret Isn’t a Strategy
I’ve worked with people who take every day of their pre-sentence and post-sentence time seriously. They:
- Keep weekly journals.
- Track their community service.
- Write about what they’ve learned.
- Document their employment search.
- Put together a detailed release plan.
And I’ve worked with people who spend their time waiting—hoping a clean criminal history or good behavior will be enough. Hoping cooperation alone will buy them a break. Hoping someone sees the “real” them.
Hope without action isn’t preparation. It’s avoidance.
Shortcuts Don’t Work
One week into prison, I thought I had changed. I hadn’t. I was just uncomfortable. And I wanted out.
That’s what most people confuse with growth. They equate pain with change. But pain doesn’t impress judges. It doesn’t sway probation officers. And it certainly doesn’t influence the Bureau of Prisons. What does?
- A consistent pattern of action.
- A clear explanation of what happened.
- A plan that shows how you’ll stay out of trouble.
- Evidence that you’re rebuilding—not just waiting.
None of that can be created in a week. It takes time. And it takes work.
Ask Yourself This
You may have already lost your job, your income, your reputation. But have you created a record that shows how you’re responding?
Have you written down what you did—and what you’re doing to make it right?
If someone asked a judge why you deserve a second look, what evidence would they point to?
If you don’t have an answer, that’s the problem.
Don’t Wait for the Wake-Up Call
I waited until prison to realize how far behind I was. By then, I couldn’t make the case that I was different. I hadn’t done anything to prove it. I didn’t know how.
You don’t have to wait that long.
Join Us
If you’re not sure what a documented plan looks like—or how to show the people who matter that you’ve done the work—join our free webinar every Tuesday at 11AM Pacific / 2PM Eastern. We’ll help you understand what judges, probation officers, and BOP staff actually look for. If you’d rather talk one-on-one, schedule a personal call. Either way, don’t wait until you’re already inside to start proving you’re serious.
