THE TAKEAWAY

Federal Prosecutors charged Andrew Fastow, former CEO of Enron, with criminal fraud charges. When he refused to cooperate they added 31 new counts, and indicted his wife on 6 more. When he held out, he faced 109 counts and his wife was sent to prison. Upon cooperation, however, he received a 6 year sentence.

As extraordinary as the circumstances surrounding the way I was charged in count 3 may seem, this is so common an everyday occurrence in the federal system as to be more the rule than the exception. People are charged with exaggerated and “enhanced” charges as leverage in almost every case. Because we as defendants
are guilty of any criminal conduct we become fair game for, and find it impossible to defend against, any charges that might be laid upon us. Guilty of one equals guilty of all.

When a friend of mine first read a version of my story, she expressed to me that it didn’t seem to reflect any feelings of remorse. Her observation left me asking the question: after the first 18 months of prison, which was to be the entire duration had I chosen to betray my most trusted friend, and many others, how do I feel that? When the lights go out and I’m left alone with my thoughts, what moral aspects of this possession in a box conduct do I direct my mind toward in an attempt to reconcile cause with effect?

Remorse is defined as deep regret or guilt for a wrong that one has done, and the US criminal code provides a list of reasons why prison sentences are imposes at all, at the top of this list are, “to promote respect for the law,” and “to provide just punishment for the offense,” which I suppose could equate to remorse as expressed in legal jargon.

Mine was not a case of, man robs liquor store, gun goes off, clerk gets killed, man goes to prison, cell doors close and man is left tormented by his thoughts and the soul of the slain clerk in the in the dank frigidity of the dark concrete mausoleum begging sweet baby Jesus for forgiveness. In my case, had I saved myself some pain by inflicting more on others, the conduct that constituted 6 years of intended punishment would not have been an offense at all. Then, it would seem, 18 months would have provided just punishment for the identical conduct, and either scenario should instill a long enduring admiration and respect for the law. 

Whatever the intricacies of the implementation of laws may be, and whether I was sent to this place by fate, bad luck, God, Jesus, the honorable Sam Lindsay or my own bad actions, the determination of whether they are right or wrong, fair or oppressive, cannot be my focus if I’m to make a search for silver linings.

I see people raise arguments, level accusations, and identify the faults in the machinations determinative of circumstances while never approaching a meaningful answer to the real question: what should I do now?

The easy thing is to stay angry, to analyze each facet of logic defying perceived injustice, to express opinions of what could and should have been, determine what we deserve based on our own notions of fairness and equality, and engage in a perpetual struggle with the world when reality delivers otherwise. I’m surrounded by his day and night.

The right thing to do is to analyze myself, to accept the facts that, whether the details were handled flawlessly or not, and whether or not any other scenario could have led to a better outcome, is completely irrelevant. The point is to take all of these things, the goods and the bads, the rights and wrongs, both wonderful and horrible, and build something out of them that is greater than the sum of its parts.

I broke more laws than I can possibly recall, and disregarded even more rules. I spent 12 years partying and travelling without paying a dime in taxes. I endangered people. I squandered an offensive quantity of money on strippers, booze, cars and gadgets. I neglected friendships, treated relationships with abandon, and strolled in and out of the lives of people who should have been an integral part of my life as casually as I breathed. Regardless of how well I might rationalize all of this, or disguise its true intent with clever descriptions and mischaracterizations, there is no rhetoric that could ever portray it as time well spent in the pursuit of anything other than self serving bullshit. I worked for me, about me, to do and buy things for me so that I could enjoy myself and my life. For all the illusory fun and fancy things, I spent 12 years missing the point of life entirely. Life isn’t about ourselves, it’s about everyone around us. That’s what I learned in prison.