Seventeen years after I was sentenced to federal prison, I still remember the pressure of that courtroom. You rehearse your statement a hundred times. You want to say something that lands, something that matters. But I’ve also seen—over and over—how people completely miss the mark.

This week, George Santos stood in front of a federal judge and said, “I’ve tried my best.”
He got 87 months.

Let’s talk about why that statement doesn’t help you—and how it can actually hurt you at sentencing.

“I Tried My Best” Sounds Like an Excuse—Not Remorse

When someone stands before a judge and says, “I tried my best,” it sounds more like a way to dodge responsibility than to own it. It’s vague. It’s passive. And it begs the question: What exactly did you try?

More importantly—where’s the evidence?

Did you pay restitution?
Did you write letters to victims?
Did you do community service or build a record of positive programming?
Have you proven anything that demonstrates you understand what you did—and that you’re working to make it right?

In Santos’ case, the answer was clearly no. “I tried my best” fell flat because the judge—and the public—saw no effort, no change, and no accountability. The sentence reflected that.

Most People in Federal Prison Are Trying to Rebuild

Here’s what people often get wrong about prison: most individuals serving time aren’t like George Santos.

They’re not delusional.
They’re not spinning a story to stay relevant.
They’re not making excuses.

They’re working—hard—to rebuild. They’re rebuilding trust with their families. They’re taking classes. They’re staying sober. They’re making amends in the only ways they can.

When I surrendered to Taft Federal Prison Camp, I met people who showed up every day ready to prove they could change. They weren’t pretending to be victims. They weren’t saying, “The system was out to get me.” They were asking, “How do I earn back some credibility?”

That’s the work. It’s slow. It’s uncomfortable. And it’s real.

But There’s Always a Few Who Play the Victim—And Others Let Them

I’ve also seen a sliver of people inside who cling to the idea that they were wronged.

They don’t reflect.
They don’t grow.
They spin.

That’s the trap some people, including Santos, fall into. And there’s a small crowd who will gladly co-sign that delusion. They’ll say things like:

• “The media was out to get you.”
  
• “You were just a pawn.”
  
• “This was all political.”
  

They mean well, or they just want someone to bond with in misery. But if you buy into that narrative, you’re done. You’ll waste your time in prison telling yourself a story that keeps you stuck.

If You’re Pleading Guilty, You’re Not a Victim

Let’s be clear: if you pled guilty, that means you stood in front of a judge and admitted guilt. That means you’re not a political target. You’re not misunderstood. You’re not the exception.

And yet, I’ve seen people go into sentencing still carrying this “I was screwed” attitude. They think if they just say the right line—like “I tried my best”—they’ll get leniency.

That’s not how it works.

If you want a shorter sentence, if you want the judge to believe you deserve a second chance, you have to show it. Not say it. Show it.

What Judges Want: Clarity, Action, and Accountability

Judges don’t want to hear your performance. They want the truth. They want to know:

• You understand what you did.
  
• You understand who was hurt.
  
• You’ve started to do something about it.
  

So instead of saying “I tried my best,” say what you actually did.

• “I wrote apology letters to the victims.”
  
• “I enrolled in a course on ethics in business and completed 40 hours.”
  
• “I’ve documented everything I’ve done in the last six months to rebuild trust.”
  

That’s proof. That’s specific. And that’s how you begin to earn back credibility.

Sentencing Is a Test—Most People Show Up Unprepared

I don’t know how many times I’ve said this: your sentencing hearing is the biggest opportunity you’ll have to influence your future. Yet so many people walk in unprepared—thinking they can wing it with some variation of “I tried my best.”

If you want a better outcome, stop guessing.

Start preparing. Write your personal narrative. Create a sentencing video if it fits your case. Think through how you’re going to explain what you’ve done, not just what you feel.

Feelings don’t get you shorter sentences. Evidence does.

Justin Paperny

P. S. 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.