I Took the Call—and Took the Money

On June 16, 2002, I got a call from Keith, a hedge fund manager I hadn’t spoken to in years.

“I’ve got a $6 million fund,” he said. “Can I transfer it to UBS?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, you can. I’ll come get the paperwork.”

I knew what I was doing. I knew it would go bad. But I took the money anyway.

Keith wasn’t a stranger. Years earlier, I had worked with him in the industry. I watched how he operated. I knew he’d say whatever he needed to close a deal. That wasn’t speculation—it was a pattern. But I ignored it. I took his fund and his lies with it.

Why? Because I had to hit my numbers. I was focused on commissions, on promotion, on showing I was producing. And I rationalized the risk.

When You Rationalize, You Make Yourself the Victim

I didn’t think like someone committing a crime. I thought like someone trying to stay ahead in a competitive business. That’s what made it dangerous. It didn’t feel illegal—it felt necessary.

I told myself:

• I’m not responsible for what Keith tells his investors.
  
• I’m not creating the materials he sends out.
  
• I’m just the broker. I’m doing my job.
  

But I wasn’t just a broker. I was the one facilitating the transfer. I was the one with the prior knowledge. I was the one who took the deal, knowing full well that it was built on lies.

Looking back, I can see how easily I played the victim. I blamed pressure, goals, and expectations. I blamed Keith. What I didn’t do—what I refused to do—was take ownership in the moment.

And that refusal came with a price.

Judges Don’t Want Regret. They Want Proof.

When I eventually stood before a judge, regret wasn’t enough. Saying I knew better didn’t mean anything. The prosecutors had the timeline. They had the documents. They could see I knew Keith’s background and took the deal anyway.

That’s why I speak plainly to people going through this now. Saying “I knew it was wrong” won’t help you. If you knew it was wrong and did it anyway, the only thing you can do now is show what you’ve done since to prove you’ve changed.

Not thought about changing. Not hoped to do things differently.

Actual work. Documented steps. Daily effort.

Proving Change Requires More Than Saying You’ve Changed

The mistake I made wasn’t just taking that $6 million fund. It was everything that followed—the cover-ups, the rationalizations, the way I coasted on silence and hoped it would go away.

And when the government finally showed up, I didn’t have anything credible to show for myself. No letters. No timeline of what I had done since. No journal. No statement taking ownership. No repayment efforts. Nothing.

If you’re reading this and you’ve made decisions you regret, don’t wait for the knock at the door. If it’s already come, don’t wait for sentencing. Every day you delay is another day you miss the chance to show that you’re serious.

That you’re not just sorry. That you’re doing the work.

So Why Did I Take the Money?

Because I wanted to stay at the top of the board. Because I didn’t want to lose the account. Because I thought the risk was worth it—until it wasn’t.

I told myself it would work out. I told myself I’d figure it out later. That later turned into a conviction, prison, and years of consequences I couldn’t ignore anymore.

I knew the deal would go bad. I took it anyway. What matters now is not just that I admit it—but that I’ve documented everything I’ve done since to make sure I never end up back there.

You need to do the same.

What would the judge see if they looked at your conduct right now?

If you don’t know how to answer that, start by joining our free weekly webinar—Tuesdays at 11AM Pacific / 2PM Eastern—or schedule a personal call with our team.

Start building a record that proves you’re not the same person who took the deal.

Justin Paperny