Six Months After My Plea, Everything Changed

I had already pled guilty. One count of conspiracy to commit fraud. The government knew I had lied to them once before, and the plea agreement reflected that—five years in federal prison.

Then my lawyer called.
He said, “Keith’s just been indicted again. Straw man real estate deal. He tried to hide money from the government.”

Keith was the same person I had once defended to the government. The same person I chose to protect, even when it meant lying to federal agents. Now, that same person was no longer useful to them. He was burned.

And because Keith was out, I got a second shot.

Not with the DOJ. They already had my plea. But the SEC? That door wasn’t closed yet.

The Meeting That Could’ve Saved Me Years

Two days later, I walked into a conference room with Bob Nixon and Cindy Tesero—senior staff at the Securities and Exchange Commission. I knew who they were. I had seen their names on letters, subpoenas, reports. Now I was across the table from them.

They wanted to know about UBS.

“How did this pass through compliance?”
“What conversations happened that let this go on for so long?”
“What exactly did you know—and when?”

These weren’t soft questions. And they weren’t looking for another story to clean up my past. They were looking for clarity. Names. Patterns. Details.

My lawyer had been clear:
“This is your shot to change the narrative. Maybe cut your sentence. But you cannot lie. Not again.”

That wasn’t a motivational speech. That was a warning.

I had already destroyed my credibility once. The only reason I was in that chair was because someone else—the person I lied for—had lost theirs completely.

What the SEC Was Really Looking For

People assume that cooperation means telling the truth. That’s only part of it.

What Bob and Cindy wanted was consistency.

I couldn’t cherry-pick what made me look good or distance myself when things got uncomfortable. They knew the record. They had the documents. What they didn’t have—yet—was a timeline that made sense and tied the players together.

That’s what they wanted from me.

They wanted someone who would stop protecting his ego, stop cleaning up his story, and finally be useful. Not just cooperative. Useful.

That’s the part most people miss.

Cooperation only helps when the government can do something with it.

I was in the room not because I deserved a second shot—but because the government still needed something I had. The only way to get credit for it was to deliver it fully and honestly. And not once.

Consistently.

What Cost Me Credibility—and What Got It Back

When I first spoke to investigators months earlier, I thought I was clever. I thought I could spin just enough of the story to limit my risk.

I didn’t admit the full scope. I downplayed timelines. I blamed others. I used vague language to dodge responsibility.

That approach cost me everything.

I gave up any chance of leniency with the DOJ because I tried to have it both ways. I wanted the benefits of cooperation without the discomfort of full disclosure.

That’s not how this works.

If I had been honest from the start, I would’ve been in a stronger position long before Keith’s new indictment. But I wasn’t. And the only reason I got another chance at all was because the government had no one else left to ask.

The stakes couldn’t have been clearer. Bob and Cindy weren’t there to rescue me. They weren’t there to negotiate. They were there to see if I had anything useful left—and whether they could trust me with it.

If You Want Credit, Stop Talking and Start Proving

If you’re under investigation or have already pled guilty, don’t wait for the government to come back around like they did with me. They usually don’t.

I only got the call because someone else screwed up worse than I did.

What matters isn’t what you say to the government. It’s what you can back up—with specifics, documentation, consistency, and usefulness.

If your plan is to talk your way out of trouble, stop.

If you want credit at sentencing, you need to start showing—not telling—why you’re credible. That means:

• Laying out a full and consistent timeline
  
• Acknowledging your actual role, not the version you wish it had been
  
• Helping prosecutors, agents, or regulators do something with what you’re giving them
  
• Not waiting to be asked
  
• Never lying, shading, or omitting—ever
  

You can’t change what you did. But you can show how you’ve responded since.

Have You Already Lost Credibility—Or Can You Still Earn It Back?

That day with the SEC, I didn’t try to sound smart. I didn’t try to defend my past. I just told the truth. Fully. And for once, I didn’t hold anything back.

They saw it. And that helped cut my sentence.

How much longer will you wait before doing the same?

Join our free webinar every Tuesday at 11AM Pacific / 2PM Eastern. You’ll hear directly from people who’ve worked with the DOJ, the SEC, and the BOP—and get clear on what you need to show if you want a shorter sentence.
Or schedule a personal call if you’d rather talk through your case privately.

Justin Paperny