I’m always grateful when people reach out after a webinar. But Monday’s generated more replies than usual.
Some shared what they learned. Others asked where to begin. But many simply said,
“I’m stuck.”
“I’m too ashamed to start.”
“I don’t even know what I’d say.”
“I’m too old to begin again.”
“It’ll take too long. What’s the point?”
These aren’t harmless doubts. They’re the justifications people offer when they’ve already decided to do nothing.
And that decision comes with a cost.
Just last week, I spoke with a physician indicted in California. He told me he would do anything to prepare, except have a tough conversation with his lawyer, invest time in a job search, or take a single proactive step. His words sounded committed. His actions said otherwise. It was all pretend.
“The will to win is not nearly as important as the will to prepare to win. I don’t believe in luck, I believe in preparation.” – Bobby Knight
I had another conversation with a father of four who claimed that preparing for sentencing was the most important thing he could do for his family, or as he told me, “my highest value.” Yet over six weeks, he couldn’t devote even three hours to properly prepare for his probation interview. The report came back full of holes, and the opportunity to influence his probation officer was lost.
What do these examples have in common? A familiar gap between values and behavior.
Most people say they value family, character, integrity, and personal growth. But when it comes time to act in service of those values, they fold.
So ask yourself: Are your actions aligned with what you claim to care about?
And if not, how long will you let that contradiction define you?
Kierkegaard wrote:
“The most common form of despair is not being who you are.
But worse, perhaps, is knowing who you could be and choosing to look away.”
Don’t Let the DOJ Be the Final Voice
If you’ve been through a government investigation, you already know how the system tells your story. It’s clean, sterile, and efficient. One-sided. Permanent.
That press release is still out there. It’s what people find when they Google you. And many assume that’s all they need to know.
But here’s the question: If that’s the only public version of your life, what have you done to offer another one?
Some people think it will fade. That no one will find it. That no one cares.
But someone always finds it. And they care a great deal.
That’s how a client of ours (ten years post-conviction) lost nearly his entire business. A competitor dug up his DOJ release and sent it to every major client. Contracts vanished. The damage wasn’t from the original case. It was from the silence that followed.
Rebuilding Isn’t About Image. It’s About Legacy.
When I came home from federal prison on May 20, 2009, I didn’t want the government to be the sole narrator of my life. Let me say that differently: I made that decision in federal prison on October 12, 2008, when I published my first prison blog.
Later that year, in Chapter 18 of Lessons From Prison, Michael and I wrote about ethics, not as esoteric theory that would put you to sleep, but as daily decision-making. I didn’t need a moral code etched in stone. I just needed to ask better questions.
Questions like:
“Would my decision mislead anyone or obscure truth? Could I justify my decision to my unborn child whom I wanted to consider me a man of honor? Would others judge my motivations and actions?”
I wasn’t a father at the time, but I was thinking like one.
That’s what drove me to start creating in prison and beyond. Some of it was rough. Some of it was ignored. But over time, it became a body of work that reflected what I was doing with my second chance.
It wasn’t about controlling perception. It was about aligning my actions with my values.
If you say integrity matters, but lie to your lawyer or say nothing in court, you’re not living with integrity. If you say your family matters, but can’t spend two hours preparing for a critical interview, then it’s time to reassess what your family actually means to you.
What would your children or grandchildren say if they could see how you’ve responded to this moment?
What will they find about you ten years from now?
You’re Being Judged Faster Than You Think
Malcolm Gladwell describes a concept called “thin slicing” as the way people make snap judgments based on limited information.
That’s exactly what happens when someone searches your name and sees the words “convicted,” “fraud,” or “DOJ.”
You don’t get to explain your side of the story in that moment. You don’t get a fair hearing. You get judged fast and unfairly.
But there is something that can override that judgment and put you in a position to not just get a shorter federal prison sentence, but also rebuild your reputation: a credible body of work. A record of effort. A clear signal that you’ve done something since then.
And yes, it takes time. But you don’t need to do everything today. You just need to start.
The Underdog Wins by Changing the Rules
In David and Goliath, Gladwell explores how people win when they stop playing by the rules that weren’t built for them in the first place.
He tells the story of Vivek Ranadivé, a Silicon Valley dad who coached his daughter’s underdog basketball team. They weren’t tall, fast, or especially talented. But they won games by pressing full-court the entire match. It threw off better teams, disrupted the norm, and forced a different kind of game.
Gladwell also writes about Dr. Emil Freireich, who pioneered aggressive leukemia treatments in children against widespread opposition. Conventional medicine rejected his approach. But his persistence saved thousands of lives and changed the entire field.
What do both stories have in common?
The underdog didn’t win by blending in. They won by refusing to pretend.
You can’t hide your past. But you can use it. You can create something people don’t expect. A thoughtful narrative. A meaningful record. A legacy you’d be proud to leave behind. You rebuild a reputation by thinking differently.
A Small Blessing in Disguise
There was, strangely, a kind of blessing that came with my conviction.
Growing up with opportunity and achievement, I always felt pressure. I was a competitive athlete. I went to USC. I succeeded in business early. But those wins were never celebrated. They were expected. When I did well, no one cheered. When I slipped, people frowned.
Prison changed all of that. When I came home, I had very little, and expectations were lower than ever. People didn’t expect much.
And strangely, I’ve enjoyed what some would call “over-performing.” People are quick to say I’ve turned lemons into lemonade or done more than expected for someone with a record.
But I don’t see it that way.
I’m not over-performing. I’m simply performing.
I’m living in line with my values; my character, my family, my business, and I try.
That’s it. I try. And I’ll always try.
That’s what I hope you’ll do. Find your purpose in this experience. Let it clarify what matters. And if you need help, ask.
That’s what I did. I asked for help, and Michael Santos gave it to me. I’ve never hidden that. I’m proud to be an ambassador of his message.
I’m not a prison coach. I’m not a consultant. I’m a businessman, a husband, a father, a son. I’m someone who made mistakes and is committed to making sure those mistakes become an asset, not a weakness.
I will not let the government be the final word on who I am. And neither should you.
If you don’t yet know how to start, start by asking for help. That’s how I started. That’s how anyone starts.
Find that mentor. Take the next step. Begin to build. Let this be the part of your life you look back on not with regret, but with resolve.
A Message That Changed How I See This Work
At the end of Monday’s webinar, I read a message from Paul Bertrand, the FBI agent who arrested me.
His words reminded me why this work matters. Why we build. Why we share.
Not to erase the past, but to give people a reason to take the totality of our lives into account.
That’s what Paul is doing. He’s taking the full scope of my life into consideration. 47 years, not three. That perspective wasn’t given to me. It was engineered. It came from a quiet room in federal prison, sitting with Michael Santos, writing, building, imagining something different. We were laying bricks, not hiding from what had happened, but preparing for who I could become.
Paul wrote:
“I like to think that you’ve done far greater things after getting back on the right path than you ever would have done without going through what you went through. I know when a teacher teaches a class, and there are feedback forms after the class, and 99 of them are positive, and one of them is negative, it’s the one that gets all of the teacher’s attention, while the 99 are brushed over or neglected. But the fact is that the 99 really tell the story. The one is the anomaly. I believe it’s the same with your other 47 years. They tell the real story, and are very positive.”
That’s the challenge for all of us: What story are you building now? What will people remember when they take the full measure of your life?
After the webinar, someone texted me:
“Hey dude, I forgot to text you after the webinar today. I’ve kind of been a mess. I go back and forth between ready to roll on the rebuild and just total fear and defeat pre-sentencing. I wanted to say that I particularly took a lot away from today’s webinar. They’re always insightful, but today hit a little harder for me.”
I admire his honesty. He’s not pretending. He’s not hiding behind empty talk. He’s owning the reality of where he is.
And I know his character. I know what he’s fighting for. Even the best have doubts. But they continue. And he will continue with our help.
If you’re feeling that same tension between wanting to rebuild and fearing you can’t, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Just don’t stay there.
So, What Now?
Overcoming a government investigation is one of the hardest things you’ll ever face. It demands more of you than you thought you had.
But it’s not impossible.
Others have done it. Thousands. They’ve come home. They’ve rebuilt. They’ve lived the values they once abandoned. And they’ve created something worth passing on.
You don’t have to do it all today. But you do have to begin.
Pick up the phone. Write the paragraph. Schedule the meeting. Put yourself in motion.
You’ll be surprised how people respond when they meet the version of you that’s still fighting to improve.
We’ll continue this conversation on Tuesday at 11 a.m. Pacific / 2 p.m. Eastern.
Join us. Whether you feel ready or not.
Join the Tuesday Webinar.
Until then,
Justin Paperny
