This post shares insights and excerpts from our New York Times article about Hugo Mejia. You can read the full article [here].

One of the hardest things to watch is a defendant keep talking about the crime after they’ve already pleaded guilty—especially when they don’t realize they’re still defending themselves.

I saw it with Hugo Mejia. Early on, he kept explaining. Not to the judge. Not even to his lawyer. Just to anyone who would listen. That he didn’t know what the other guy was doing. That he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. That he didn’t think it was that serious.

I understood it. I did the same thing. After I pled guilty to securities fraud, I still wanted people to know I wasn’t the worst one involved. That I didn’t plan it. That I got caught up in the deal. That I wasn’t a “criminal.” It made me feel better in the moment. But it made everything else harder—especially sentencing.

Here’s what most defendants overlook: after you plead guilty, judges and probation don’t just look at what you did—they watch how you carry yourself afterward. Not just what you said in court. But what you say after. To probation. To the court. To the people around you.

If you talk like you’re still minimizing what happened, they pick up on it right away. They’ve heard the same lines from countless others.

That’s why I kept pushing Hugo to stop telling the story that way. It wasn’t helping him. And it wouldn’t help in his pre-sentence interview or at sentencing. Judges don’t give shorter sentences because you found a way to explain the crime more clearly. They give shorter sentences when they believe you’ve taken responsibility—without conditions, without disclaimers.

Probation officers are the same way. They write the pre-sentence report based on your behavior and your words. Not just what you say during the interview, but what they hear between the lines. If they pick up that you’re still minimizing what happened, they’re not going to go out of their way to help you.

I’ve seen defendants lose two or three levels off the guidelines just because they couldn’t let go of that need to explain. And once that pre-sentence report is written, it’s hard to undo. It follows you into the Bureau of Prisons. It affects your eligibility for programs. It affects how you’re classified. It affects how seriously staff take you.

There’s a quote in the article that stuck with me. “Everyone’s innocent in here.” That’s the default posture in prison. Everyone has a version of why they’re different. But the defendants who get the best outcomes—the ones who qualify for RDAP, who get favorable placement, who come home early—aren’t the ones who argued the least. They’re the ones who stopped arguing altogether.

That’s what changed for Hugo. He stopped trying to reposition the crime. He focused on the facts and started thinking about what he could do—not what he could explain.

That change showed up in how his probation officer wrote the report. It showed up in how the judge talked about him at sentencing. It even showed up in how the prosecutor described him. And it helped reduce his sentence. Not because of a fancy motion. Because of how he carried himself after the plea.

If you’re in this position, the best thing you can do right now is ask yourself a hard question: Are you still trying to justify the crime? Are you trying to get people to see you differently than your plea suggests?

And if you are, are you willing to stop before it costs you time you could’ve avoided?

Every Tuesday at 11AM Pacific / 2PM Eastern, we run a free webinar for people preparing for sentencing or prison. I walk through exactly what you need to stop doing—and what to focus on instead. You can join anonymously. But show up prepared to hear the truth.

Justin Paperny