I woke up this morning with a plan.
Five miles. No excuses. Just me, the trail, and some redemption after last night’s Halloween party.

Then I saw some candies in a small halloween bag. Oh no.
Several minutes later, candy wrappers everywhere.
Reese’s. Almond Joys, Kit Kats. The full confession laid out in chocolate and foil.

Here’s the thing — I didn’t mean to eat all that. I meant to run and take in my new play list! I meant to do better.
But my waistline doesn’t care about my intentions.
It only cares about the result.

That’s how prosecutors think, too.

You’re seeing it play out right now with Letitia James — the New York Attorney General who built her career holding others accountable.

In 2020, she bought a small house in Norfolk, Virginia. Nothing extravagant — about $137,000.
She signed for a $109,600 mortgage, agreeing it would be her second home. Not a rental.
That detail mattered. It got her a lower interest rate.

According to the indictment, she never lived there. Instead, she rented it out, listed it on her state ethics forms as an investment property for four consecutive years, and even reported rental income on her federal tax return.

Meanwhile, her loan paperwork, insurance forms, and ethics disclosures told three different stories.

Prosecutors say that misrepresentation saved her about $18,933 over the life of the loan — and that’s all they need to bring a case. She’s charged with bank fraud and making false statements to a financial institution. Sixty years max exposure. Two million in potential fines.

Here’s what makes this hard to watch:
She didn’t wake up that morning thinking, I’m going to commit a crime.
Most people don’t.

And that’s exactly my point.

Over the last fifteen years, I’ve guided hundreds of people on the way to federal prison who said almost the same thing.
They weren’t monsters. They weren’t career criminals. They were accountants, executives, public servants, parents.

Most didn’t start out intending to do wrong. They started out trying to make payroll, protect a company, meet expectations, keep their jobs.

Like Elizabeth Holmes. She said she believed her product worked — that her intentions were good. Eleven years in prison.

Like Rajat Gupta, the former Goldman Sachs director who said he didn’t mean to share confidential information — he thought he was helping a friend. Two years in prison.

I’ve talked to many others who aren’t famous, who never got headlines.
They told me, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
And I believe them.

But the prosecutor doesn’t weigh sincerity.
They weigh evidence, the result.

That’s the uncomfortable truth about the justice system: it doesn’t grade you on how you felt when you made a decision — it grades you on the impact of what you did.

When prosecutors look at Letitia James, they don’t see intentions.
They see a sworn public official who signed a loan agreement saying one thing, filed taxes saying another, and made money in between.

If her name were anything else, no one would be arguing intent. They’d be arguing plea terms.

And that’s what frustrates so many people who’ve lived this — who’ve lost their freedom for the same type of misstatement, the same kind of paperwork that didn’t match the facts.

They didn’t get sympathy. They got time.

So yes, I believe Letitia James might not have meant to break the law.
But fairness isn’t about what we believe — it’s about applying the same standard to everyone.

She enforced those laws as a prosecutor. She helped build the very system now holding her accountable.
There can’t be one rule for her and another for the people she charged.

No two-tiered justice system. Not for her. Not for anyone.

If you’ve ever said, “I didn’t mean to,” you’re not alone.
A lot of good people have said those words before walking into a courtroom.

But intent doesn’t erase consequence — and in a fair system, that has to apply to everyone, from Wall Street to Washington to your neighborhood.

So yeah, I planned to run five miles this morning.
Instead, I wrote this with chocolate on my fingers and a reminder in my head:
Your waistline, your record, and your prosecutor all care about the same thing — the result.

And the result should be judged by the same standard for everyone.

Thank you for reading,

Justin Paperny