13 Days to Launch

For those of us who were once wealthy, free, and powerful, prison is especially punishing. In our past lives, we were commanders of our domains and princes of our universe. But inside these walls, where the only color is gray and the only speed is slow, we are faceless captives, each left to ponder our crimes and deal with our shame. And in a place where time moves in drips, like those that fall sporadically from a faulty water faucet, time is an abundant commodity. It could be worse. Instead of being assigned to a minimum security facility like this one in Morgantown, West Virginia – one of the so-called “Club Feds” – we could be sitting in a high-security prison alongside rapists and murderers. The prison houses nine hundred mostly white middle-aged male inmates who are not likely to hurt anyone or try to escape. We were cheaters, schemers, and liars who had ripped off a company or government agency, not killers and rapists. I would guess that most had never held a firearm. My little group of friends was a who’s-who of headline criminals. People like me. A former congressperson, an Army colonel, a federal Judge, a Wall Street securities company CEO, and a Catholic priest.