This post shares excerpts and insights from our New York Times article about Hugo Mejia. You can read the full article [here]. For context, this builds on Blog #1, where I wrote about why denying guilt after a plea can cost you time.
If you read the last blog, you know Hugo Mejia kept trying to explain the crime—even after pleading guilty. That’s common. But in a pre-sentence interview, it’s not just unhelpful. It’s dangerous.
I’ve been part of dozens of these interviews—on Zoom, over the phone, or sitting across the table. I’ve watched clients say too much, say the wrong thing, or freeze up completely. Most of them walk in unprepared and end up making things worse.
They treat it like it’s just a box to check. They assume their lawyer will “handle it.” Or they try to talk their way through it without a plan. Meanwhile, the person sitting across from them is writing the most important report of their life.
That report decides a lot. What the judge sees before sentencing. What the BOP sees before designation. What your case manager sees once you’re inside. It affects your bunk, your job, your program eligibility, and how long you actually stay in custody.
Yet most defendants spend more time drafting their character letters than preparing for this interview.
When Hugo stopped making excuses and started preparing seriously, people noticed—and so did the judge. He didn’t walk in with nothing. He wasn’t scrambling for answers. The officer across from him didn’t get a rehearsed story—he got someone who had done the work and was ready to talk straight.
That’s the difference.
And no, your lawyer can’t do it for you. Most lawyers are great at arguing law. That’s not what this is. This is about facts, consistency, and credibility. If you’re vague, or defensive, or overly rehearsed, the probation officer will know. They’ve seen it all.
I had a client once say, “I didn’t want to say too much, so I just stuck to what my lawyer told me.” He ended up with a report that made him look flat, indifferent, and evasive. That hurt him at sentencing—and even more once he got into the BOP system.
Compare that to Hugo. His report included personal history, military service, medical details, and a clear acknowledgment of the crime. That didn’t come from guessing. It came from preparation.
One more thing: judges read these reports before they ever see you in court. If you wait until the sentencing hearing to “finally tell your story,” it’s too late. They’ve already formed an opinion. Your words in court might reinforce it—but they won’t rewrite it.
So what do you say in the interview?
You tell the truth. You keep it clear. You don’t defend the crime, and you don’t act like you’re the victim. You explain how you got here, what you’ve learned, and what you’re doing differently—without trying to impress anyone.
You don’t need a speech. You need to show the person across from you that you’re not trying to game the system. That you understand this is serious, and that you’re treating it that way.
I tell clients this all the time: the report gets written either way. You can tell your story clearly—or leave it to others to fill in the gaps and make their own assumptions.
If you haven’t read Blog #1 yet, go back to it. It explains exactly why denying guilt—even a little—costs people time. And if you’re about to sit for your pre-sentence interview, don’t go in unprepared. I walk through real examples every Tuesday at 11AM Pacific / 2PM Eastern. You’re welcome to join the webinar. Or not. But if you guess your way through this part, you’re gambling with years—not months.
Justin Paperny
