Preparing for federal sentencing: what I wish I had known

By Justin Paperny, White Collar Advice

I spent three years as a federal criminal defendant before surrendering to Taft Federal Prison Camp on April 28, 2008. I had a good lawyer, plenty of time, and no idea how poorly I was using it.

Most days I thought about one thing: how much time the judge would give me. I could have been writing, preparing for my probation interview, making restitution payments, and finding ways to help people. I did some of that. Nowhere near enough.

People call White Collar Advice after sentencing and tell me they wish they'd done more. I said the same thing.

What will the judge know about you?

I assumed my attorney would explain everything the judge needed to know. He knew the law and he knew my case. He couldn't tell the judge what I did with my mornings, how I spent my weekends, or whether I'd started addressing what brought me into federal court.

I could have told him.

When someone calls us now, I ask about the time since the investigation began. Some have been working, volunteering, paying restitution, going to counseling, caring for family. They've told no one involved in their case. Others say they haven't done much because the investigation has consumed them.

Your sentencing hearing will arrive either way.

Writing your personal narrative

I've read narratives that open with twenty pages on careers, donations, and community titles, then rush through the crime in two paragraphs.

I know the temptation. I was a stockbroker, and I wanted people to remember the successful parts. But I had committed a crime. I couldn't write as though it were an interruption.

When we help someone write a narrative, we spend time on what happened, who was hurt, and what the person has done since. Then we learn the family, career, and childhood that explain the person beyond the case. We interview for hours because we want their words and their examples. When they read the finished document, they should recognize themselves.

The probation interview I didn't prepare for

I thought about sentencing day constantly: what the judge might say, what I'd wear, whether I'd be allowed to self-surrender. I gave far less thought to my interview with the probation officer.

That interview feeds the presentence investigation report. The PSR covers your offense, finances, employment, family, health, substance use, and history, and it follows you. Bureau of Prisons staff use it for classification and programming. Probation officers read it again after release. If you want RDAP, your substance use history needs to be in it.

I've talked with people who arrived in prison expecting RDAP because they'd mentioned drinking in the interview, only to learn the coordinator needed more. Others didn't see what was missing from their report until they were already inside.

We now prepare clients for that interview, in coordination with their defense attorneys: the likely questions, their backgrounds, the records that support accurate answers. Nobody did that for me in 2007.

Character letters that tell the judge something

You ask a friend of twenty years to write a letter. He writes that you're honest, generous, respected, a wonderful friend.

I've read hundreds like that. I'd rather read about the day you drove three hours to help his family, the employee you carried through cancer treatment, the kid you helped get through college.

Some letters never mention the case at all, as if sentencing were an awards dinner. Your friends don't have to excuse what happened. They can say what they know about you, why they still stand with you, and what they've watched you do since the investigation began.

What have you been doing since the investigation began?

A man told me he'd spent more than two years waiting for his case to end. He'd stopped working, avoided friends, and spent hours reading sentencing outcomes online. I'd done the same.

I asked what he'd done in those two years that he'd want the judge to know. He couldn't answer.

Then we talked about his family. He'd cared for an elderly parent, kept supporting his kids, and started counseling. He hadn't thought any of it counted. We talked about why he started counseling, what he was learning, what he'd keep doing. That's where his narrative began.

For others it's repaying victims, going back to school, volunteering, teaching what they know. A business owner keeps the books for a nonprofit. Someone with a drinking problem enters treatment.

At Prison Professors, people write about the books they've read, the classes they've finished, the people they've helped, the commitments they've kept. Some start before prison and keep going inside. Those entries become a dated record they can hand to attorneys, case managers, and probation officers.

What will you say at sentencing?

You may get to speak to the judge directly.

I've watched people prepare pages of remarks and fall apart when they stand up. Others repeat their lawyer's arguments or spend so long on their background they barely touch their conduct.

I ask clients one question: what do you want the judge to understand when you sit down? Then we work the words, practice, and cut anything that sells the wrong message (most defendants sell the wrong message).

We also cover what gets overlooked. Are you asking for voluntary surrender? Is your family ready if you're taken into custody that day? Has your lawyer considered requesting a specific facility (and not just the closest one to your home)?

I walked into federal court knowing I might not go home that day. You should know, or try to know, before you walk in, too.

Why we built White Collar Advice

When I surrendered to Taft, I had no release plan and no idea what I'd do after prison. I was a wreck.

Inside, I met Michael Santos, who had already served decades. He pushed me to write about my experience and how I'd live when I came home. I wrote by hand. My mother typed the pages I mailed home and posted them online. Those pages became my first book, Lessons From Prison.

I came home in 2009 owing $535,000 in restitution. I carried copies of my book into defense attorneys' offices. Most wouldn't see me.

Mark Werksman read it and called the next morning. He asked for ten copies.

I built White Collar Advice from there and paid my restitution in full in 2019. Our team includes people who served federal sentences, came home to families, and dealt with restitution and supervised release. We also support Prison Professors, which gives free resources to people in prisons and jails.

Some people take our free material and do the work themselves. Others want a guide who has been through it.