When rich folks steal stuff and make a deal, it’s called a settlement. When we do it, it’s called a plea bargain.
Allow me to offer an example… Our ol’ cell-buddy, Bernie Madoff, #61727-054, doing 150 years (out-date: 2139) at FCC Butner, NC, reveals some more of his story.
Understandably enough, I guess, Bernie’s pretty pissed. His son Mark, 46, committed suicide and his family’s blaming him. I think he’d like a little more respect and appreciation from the sewer rats he once served. more…
“What’s the first thing you should do when you find yourself in a hole?”
Walking around the track one day at FCI Ray Brook, Lake Placid, NY, one of my exercise buddies—a general contractor from Virginia—showed me a letter he wrote. It was addressed to the Attorney General of that state.
Bruce had been convicted of bank fraud in a contracting scheme, where he had also stiffed his sub-contractors. He was doing a 10-yr bit, “old law,” which meant he would-max out after 7 yrs.
I read the letter and was frankly astounded at his political and social naiveté—to put it politely. He was a pretty conservative type and was always good for a lively argument, but this was simply beyond the pale. more…
One afternoon, the Business Manager was discussing the need to hire another CPA for all the work coming into our local Federal Prison Industries, Inc., factory, UNICOR.
As the clerk to the Factory Manager, I suggested that I had an idea for how to get an accountant for practically free from the prison population.
“Really?” said the Business Manager. “Do you know an inmate here who’s a CPA?”
“Not exactly,” I replied. “But I have an idea. Contact the local U.S. Attorney’s office and ask them to mail a plea deal out to every CPA listed in the local Yellow Pages.
“Have them offer, say, a three-year plea bargain on an open felony charge in return for immunity from prosecution for anything else.”
The Business Manager turned to the Factory Manager with a smirk, “Your clerk has quite a sense of humor…”
“No, really! Try it,” I said. “I’ll bet you get acceptance letters from maybe half of them—or bankers, lawyers, doctors–whomever you want. “I mean, basically, that’s how the system works.”
I’d been down long enough to recognize that the guy sitting alone at the 4-man table in the chow hall was new. I sat down and he soon became chatty enough. New here, but not new to the system…
He was in on a 7-year bit. But what caught my attention was his mention that it was his third felony offense—all for armed bank robbery! Here I am with a 25-year hit for a first offender drug case (in fact, conspiracy…not a drug in sight), and I’m looking at this guy, maybe 35, with a big grin across his face. Hell, I was in the wrong business! more…
…are the worst sort of tyranny (and bad men make them even worse). Edmund Burke.
Eduardo was a young, clean-cut looking businessman in his mid-30s. He had emigrated from Colombia as a youth with his family. He married his high school sweetheart and they had two little girls, 5 and 7.
Land of the Free...Home of the Brave...
He worked for a bank in downtown Washington, DC, and she worked as a translator for a government agency. They lived in a modest home in the suburbs.
According to his PSI (Pre-Sentence Investigation report), Eduardo was approached repeatedly by an acquaintance, also a Colombian, asking for contacts he might know who could supply drugs. Eduardo eventually did speak with a friend, who in turn dropped off a package to his house containing a kilo of coke.
Eduardo wasn’t very happy with the situation, he had envisioned simply introducing the men. While he was at work, the acquaintance came over to the house with his DEA handler. more…