Prison Camp: The Gallery
A White-Collar Journal forum for criminal justice, lived experience, and the personal search for redemption
Last week I wrote about sentencing and its consequences. I have written about that day before, in detail. But there was a scene I never included about the people who came to witness it.
SENTENCING DAY: The Gallery
I didn’t look at anyone directly. But I was aware of all of them.
I was part of a large family, and many of them were there. My wife and children — all four of whom were then adults. My eldest daughter was working at Seaboard and was therefore the most invested in the company’s demise.
There were many others: my brother and his son, nieces and nephews. I could see my sweet daughter-in-law tearing up when I walked in.
Three close friends had flown up from Florida to speak on my behalf. I regretted asking them.
Among all of them, my wife stood out. She was wearing a hat I had purchased in Italy years earlier, during our more prosperous years. She looked, as always, composed and resigned to our fate. She had never been angry with me.
So resolute. So understanding. As if she had known all along this might happen. To me, to us. As if it were not entirely of my doing, but a consequence of all that went before, whatever that was.
And she accepted it as my fate. Our fate.
All of them made me ashamed. I wished they hadn’t come.
In some ways, I felt as though I was carrying them with me to my chair, practically stumbling, my legs heavy and clumsy.
On the other side were my investors. I allowed myself to scan them. Some were a surprise. But all of them had been heavily invested in Seaboard. Their presence was warranted.
It is almost impossible to describe the shame of walking past them: family and friends on one side, victims and enemies on the other.
I don’t know which was worse.
Although they came with very different mindsets, both sides were deeply and personally invested in my sentencing. In some ways, even more than I was.
By the time I reached my seat, I was too numb to feel anything at all.
If this piece resonated with you, consider sharing it or leaving a comment. To support this work and help spread awareness about justice reform for white-collar defendants, subscribe to White-Collar Journal and stay connected. John DiMenna is a member of the White Collar Support Group.
Up Next on White Collar Journal:
Wednesday (Justice Notes): Criminal Justice Reform
Thursday (Notes from Exisle): Log/Verse: Daily, fragmented reflections
Sunday (Prison Camp): More Stories from prison
If you’re new to White-Collar Journal, you can read earlier chapters and essays on incarceration, justice, and reentry at whitecollarjournal.com.
Thank you for reading White-Collar Journal. Subscribing is free, and I hope you’ll continue with me as I explore stories of incarceration, justice, and redemption.
If this piece resonated with you, consider sharing it or leaving a comment. To support this work and help spread awareness about justice reform for white-collar defendants, subscribe to White-Collar Journal and stay connected. John DiMenna is a member of the White Collar Support Group.
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