When I was first indicted, I didn’t think I’d done anything that wrong. Sure, mistakes were made—but prison? No way. I didn’t see myself as a criminal. I saw myself as a former student athlete from USC, a stockbroker, a decent guy from a good family. I thought people would see that too.
They didn’t.
They saw what I refused to acknowledge: I created victims. I broke the law. And in the government’s eyes, I was now a federal defendant, not a volunteer or a former athlete. That shift in how the world viewed me? I didn’t accept it. I fought it. I clung to who I used to be. And that mindset made everything worse.
Let’s break down how that entitled thinking nearly led to a longer sentence—and why it still hurts people today.
Refusing to Start Over Is a Sentencing Risk
Here’s a mistake I see weekly: smart people clinging to old titles, careers, and identities—while ignoring how the court sees them now.
That was me.
Someone would say, “Justin, you should get a job. Show the judge you’re rebuilding.”
And I’d say, “A job? I went to USC. I’m not taking a minimum-wage job. That’s beneath me.”
That mindset was poison. I was still trying to preserve an image that no longer mattered in court.
Judges don’t care about your old resume. They care about what you’re doing now—especially if it shows humility and accountability. But at the time, I couldn’t grasp that. I thought doing “lesser” work would make me look small. What I didn’t understand was that avoiding work made me look arrogant.
The Delusion of Status: A Trap I Set for Myself
Even when good friends tried to wake me up, I brushed them off. Honestly, someone could’ve punched me in the face and told me, “Dude, you’re wrecking your chances,” and I still would’ve shrugged.
That’s how deep the denial was.
Looking back, I see it clearly: I was too proud to start over. Too proud to show the court that I was willing to work, learn, and rebuild—no matter how far I had to fall.
And that pride? It’s dangerous. Because it can delay the very thing that helps most at sentencing: evidence that you’ve already started changing.
Picking Up Phones for $15: The Lesson I Learned Too Late
It wasn’t until I got to federal prison that the reality sunk in. Sitting in that cell, I realized just how stupid, entitled, and naive I had been.
I had a shot to show effort before sentencing. I blew it.
After I came home to the halfway house, I finally did what I used to think was “beneath me.” I took a $15-an-hour job picking up phones. No glory, no prestige—just honest work.
And guess what? I was proud of it.
Not because of the money. Because of what it said: I was finally willing to rebuild. No shortcuts. No spin. Just start from zero and do the work.
I only wish I had done it before sentencing.
What This Means for You: Practical Sentencing Advice
If you’re facing a federal case right now, ask yourself:
- Are you still clinging to your old title or lifestyle?
- Are you rejecting opportunities to rebuild because they feel “beneath you”?
- Are you avoiding work, community service, writing, or restitution because it doesn’t match who you used to be?
If so, you’re making the same mistake I made.
Don’t wait for prison to humble you. Do the work now. Get a job—any job. Volunteer. Show up consistently. Do what you can to demonstrate to the judge that you’re not sitting around waiting for sentencing to happen to you.
This isn’t about theatrics. It’s about showing action. Real, tangible steps that signal to the court: “I get it. I’ve already started fixing it.”
What Judges Actually Respect
Judges don’t expect you to launch a business or become a nonprofit hero overnight. But they do want to see that you’re not passive.
They respect defendants who:
- Start working (even if it’s minimum wage)
- Write a clear, personal narrative that addresses the victims
- Make progress on restitution, no matter how small
- Take action before anyone forces them to
Entitlement kills all of that.
You think you’re protecting your image—but really, you’re just feeding the narrative the government already believes: that you’re still trying to game the system.
Final Word: Drop the Ego Before the Court Drops the Hammer
I lost valuable time pretending I was still who I used to be. Don’t make that mistake.
If you think honest work is beneath you, ask yourself—what’s worse?
Taking a $15-an-hour job today, or serving an extra 15 months tomorrow?
Judges notice when someone’s willing to start over. They also notice when someone isn’t.
Justin Paperny
If this resonates, join our team this Monday at 1 p.m. Pacific, 4 p.m. Eastern. We host a free webinar to answer questions, share lessons from real cases, and help you avoid the most costly mistakes people make during a government investigation. Bring questions. Come ready to learn.
