CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
2002 – The Proffer
My lawyer paid me a visit at the end of May. He said the proffer letter was ready to go out.
“A’ight, let’s go over it together,” I said. We sat side-by-side. I read every single sentence aloud.
It was extremely well-written. If it weren’t my case, I would’ve been fascinated by all the background bullshit it described. But the actual information I was offering up was pretty minimal in the grand scheme of things- I gave them exactly what they were already onto, and nothing more. No new faces, no international shipping routes, no local markets. Just one name, wrapped in a bow, far enough from me that no one could trace it back. Other than that, I was a good Catholic school boy, a university graduate and future Masters candidate. Because of my squeaky-clean record, because I was willing to give up a name in an area they’d been trying to clean up and, most importantly, because the government had told them to pivot to terrorism cases and terrorism cases only, my lawyer said I had a good chance of getting out in seven years, max.
“You’ll probably be able to work it down to five years with two years’ supervised release,” he explained. “And I’ll try to get them to put in a conditional clause that will allow for parts of your records to be sealed after certain stipulations have been met or completed. That means it will be easier for you to move on with your life, find a decent job and other things you don’t want hanging over your head once you’re released.”
Both of my parents would be very happy to hear this. Since my arrest, I hadn’t heard from my father much, but I got it. He was doing the best he could, trying to adjust himself to the situation at hand. I couldn’t blame him. Shit like this is one of the main reasons I never wanted to have kids.
The proffer session was scheduled for mid-June. Quick, dry and by the book, it went as well as could be expected. I signed the proffer agreement and then went through the next steps.
All told, it took from May until early July to attend each session. The prosecutor accepted my proffer, and from there my lawyer handled sentencing negotiations.
By the time we got to sentencing in early August, I was ready to be done with the whole process. I wanted to know what I was facing and where I’d be sent to do my time.
They gave me five to seven years including time served, with a first hearing for supervised release coming at the five-year marker. I was to be remanded to a medium-security facility, with a chance of stepping down to minimum security after my first full year of federal prison time. And my lawyer managed to get the judge to agree on record to sealing the majority of my file, as long as I completed a series of stipulated actions upon release- all of which were doable.
All that was left was to find out where they were moving me.
