Here are the first few paragraphs, unedited (all of the dates have a line through them; I imagine he crossed them off the calendar, one at a time):
I wake up at 5:00 a.m. knowing this will be my last day of freedom for quite some time. Perhaps as long as nine years. Once again I hardly slept, in spite of numbing myself with more cocktails than I had a right to. But why not, for I know there won't be any alcohol in prison. Not being able to face them this morning, I bid tearful goodbyes to my parents last night, as well as my two teenage sons. The pattern of continuing worst moments of my life seems to have no end, today's sentencing will sadly keep that streak alive.
You don't exactly pack a bag for prison, so knowing I will be in the same clothes for at least the next 2-3 days I try to pick out the most comfortable and inconspicuous clothes I own: khaki pants, blue Brooks Brothers shirt, and Nike sneakers.
I get into my car and head to the local Starbucks. Real coffee is a pleasure I won't be experiencing again for, well, longer than I want to imagine. I treat myself to a latte and look around at all the familiar faces I have come to know these many months, as far as their concerned it's just another day for me as they extend their greetings. Little do they know I won't be seeing them for quite some time. The first hint of a tear begins to fall, before the day is over many more will come.
I get on the train heading to Manhattan, specifically 100 Centre Street where I await sentencing at 10:00 for Securities Fraud. I look around at my fellow commuters, engrossed in their NY Times, and Wall Street Journals, a scene that I participated in for 20 years as I made the trek from the suburbs to the streets of Lower Manhattan. "How the hell did it come to this?," I think to myself. I look out the window at perhaps the bluest sky I have ever seen, not a cloud to be had on this first official day of Summer. I make my way to the court house, walking slowly, and hoping the sidewalk might just open up, swallow me whole so I can disappear and avoid the humiliation that awaits. I'm in sort of semi-shock I think. Wait, what if I just turn around and run? I'll head out West, start over, and avoid all this shit. But of course I can't. I'd be a fugitive, constantly looking over my shoulder. And worst of all, I could never see my family again. I enter the building and take the elevator to the 13th floor. In a matter of minutes I'll be handcuffed and no longer a free man.
Waiting for me in the courtroom are my lawyers, my oldest brother Joe (I have two, along with three sisters), cousin George Maguire, who has been my rock since the day I was indicted 16 months ago. Also my Uncle and mentor, the man who got me my first job on Wall Street way back in 1980, James J. Maguire. Shortly before I am called to appear in front of Judge Michael Opus, I reach into my pockets and hand Joe my cell phone, wallet, and car keys. I will no longer have a use for any of these things. We've already said our goodbyes, out in the hallway. When I go to hug them I know it'll be for quite awhile. I don't want to let go, but my time has come.
The sentencing is a blur, the prosecution makes a few closing remarks, stuff like what a pleasure it's been to work with the defense, the shared cooperation, blah, blah, (oh how lovely for all of you I think to myself, one big happy family). Then the lawyer stands before the Judge asking for leniency, the fact that I have never been in trouble with the law before, that this is a non-violent 1st time offense The whole time I just sit there, in shock really, staring at the floor, trying to hold back the tears I promised I would not let fall. Minutes pass, and now it's my turn to speak. I know the Judge has already decided my fate, nothing I say will change that, but for some reason I feel the desire to say a few words. This is probably my 10th visit to the courtroom, and I have never once had the opportunity to speak. I want the Judge and everyone else to know how sorry I am, how I can't believe where my life has taken me; literally minutes from being led away in handcuffs. I rise out of my chair, I've given a lot of thought to what I want to say, but immediately I go blank, I stand there frozen, my rehearsed speech all but forgotten. I faintly recall saying how much I will miss my sons, the pain I have caused them along with the rest of my family. I admit my guilt, ask the Judge to be lenient, thank my lawyers, and my family for their love. I begin to sob. I can't feel anything; my body is numb. Finally I run out of things to say and sit down. Now it's Judge Opus's turn. I wait to hear the number; is it 1 year, 3, or worst case scenario, 9 years that I am being sentenced to. He's speaking, but very little registers. Why can't I just faint, or better yet wake up, because really, this is all just a bad dream isn't it. Next thing I know, I hear him say "2 1/3rd to 7. Good luck to you sir." There it is, right smack in the middle of the best/worst case scenario. Four hundred thousand it cost my family in legal fees to get a result I probably would have received if I had pled guilty at my arraignment....16 months ago.
At the same time the Judge was meting out my sentence, 2 court officers stepped up directly behind me. I could see one of them reaching for his handcuffs, the other one pulling out my chair as he began to utter the words I had come to dread, "Place your hands behind your back sir." The tears are still running down my cheeks, I'm almost gasping for breath; my legs wobble like a rubber pencil. Will I even be able to stand up? I hear the clicking of the cuffs, then I feel them. Thankfully not to tight. I look back at my Uncle, my cousin, and my brother, I'm helpless now, and there is nothing they can do for me. But their hearts reach out, I can see it in their eyes. The holding cell I am being led to is off to the side of the court, step through a door, and I will be gone. The guards are holding on to me, I want this walk to take forever, but considering it's only about ten yards long, that won't happen. The door opens, I look back one last time.
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