“… make a list of all the people and apologize to them, but the list is so big that I can't possibly…”

—and on the second track I was thinking how much better off I'd be just saying something like: You know what, Judge? I fucked up something awful here, and I wish I could say it was because of all the drugs, but the truth is that it wasn't. I was just a greedy little bastard, and not just greedy for money but also for sex and for power and for the admiration of my peers and for just about anything else you can imagine. And what makes it even worse, Your Honor, is that I was blessed with some wonderful gifts, and instead of using them in an honest, productive way, I used them to corrupt other people, to get them to do my evil bidding—

“… that when I first started Stratton, I didn't intend it to be this way, but very quickly I knew exactly what I was doing and I just kept doing it until I was stopped. I take full responsibility for my actions. I can only blame my greed—greed for power, greed for money, greed for recognition. I have a lot of explaining to do to my children one day, and hopefully they'll learn from my mistakes. I would just like to put this all behind me and start paying people back. That's the best I can do.” I lowered my head in contrition and shook it sadly.

There were a few moments of silence, during which I refused to look up. I felt my speech had been terribly lame.

I heard Gleeson say, “Mr. Alonso?”

Alonso said, “Your Honor, you've just heard the defendant talk briefly about how sorry he is and about how he thinks about honesty and ethics and how he tries to do the right thing every day, and if I were sitting where you're sitting, I would have to be somewhat skeptical of a defendant who has done what this defendant has done. However, I spent many hours discussing honesty and ethics with this man. It's possible that I'm a pollyanna, but I think that he truly gets it. I believe that he really, really has tried to move on from some point in the last few years and has tried to change his life.

“I don't know if you're aware, but the first time I met him was on the day you threw him in jail for the helicopter trip to Atlantic City.” For Chrissake, of all the things to bring up, why that?“And over the next few months, when he finally got released, I think there was a marked change in this man. I think that he really did think to himself what it was that he had done and, more importantly, what he had to do as a cooperator. I think that he got it. Is it possible that we should be skeptical? Sure. But do I think that there is good reason to believe him when he says what he just said? I do.

“And when he testified at the Gaito trial, he spent more than a hundred hours prepping with me, and it was the worst time of his life. It was a very arduous time, but we spent a lot of time talking about what he did and his past deceptions and fraud, and I do want to add my own two cents that I think there is good reason to believe him about his intention to do what he says he is going to do.”

I snuck a peek at Gleeson, who was nodding. Was he nodding in agreement, though? It was difficult to say. This judge was a cool cat. He wouldn't tip his hand.

“Thank you,” said Gleeson. “I think everyone has demonstrated good judgment in not speaking as long as they might have given the extremes of this case—the extreme criminal contact involving Mr. Belfort, and the extreme cooperation. It is extraordinary co operation, I recognize that.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “It's knocked many, many, many years off the jail term you otherwise would have gotten, but balanced against that are many years of brazen, arrogant fraud.” Now he turned on his incredible shrink ray, and I found myself growing smaller and smaller, as he said:

“You victimized thousands and thousands of innocent people who trusted you, who trusted the people who worked for you. You thought the regulators were a joke and you took them to the cleaner's. You lived the high life”— oh, shit!-“the highestof the high life, and not because your talents got you there—I have no doubt that you are a talented man—but because you were willing to lie, cheat, and steal. Your competitors were placed at a disadvantage, certainly not all of them, but most of them did what most people do, and tried to conduct their business honorably and honestly without basically stealing the money from so many people where you can't possibly apologize to all of them.

“It's important to the sentence I'm imposing that you have apparently turned your life around. What I've read about you in the 5K letter, what Mr. Alonso said about you, has sunken in to me. It does seem to me as though you've turned a corner. I guess the most important and hard-to-predict question in this entire process is what that translates into by way of how much punishment you deserve.” He paused and let out a great sigh, the sort of great sigh King Solomon would have produced if he had been faced with sentencing a redeemed Wolf of Wall Street.

I clenched my ass cheeks and said a prayer to the Almighty. He had sentenced Danny to four years, which after deductions, amounted to a bit less than two. The way Magnum and I had figured it, Gleeson would have to sentence me to less.

“It's a very, very difficult decision. I've thought about it long and hard, and I have determined that a prison term of four years is appropriate, and that's what I'm imposing.”

A sudden surge of murmurs from the spectator section.

My stomach began churning before my mind could put it all together. The kids—what would I say? More tears. I dropped my head in defeat. I couldn't believe it. It was the worst end of the spectrum, exactly what Danny had gotten. My brain began whizzing through the calculations. Forty-eight months was how much after deductions? There was fifteen percent off for good time, which was 7.2 months, plus eighteen months for the drug program, equaled 25.2 months total, deducted from forty-eight—between twenty-two and twenty-three months in jail.

Then Gleeson said, “I'm imposing restitution in the amount of $110 million”— no big deal,I thought—”payable in the amount of fifty percent of his gross income.” Holy shit!

A rigoletto of murmurs from the spectator section!Were they laughing at me? It couldn't be, but it sounded like it. What were my parents thinking?

Time seemed to slow down; I could hear Magnum asking Judge Gleeson to recommend me for the drug program…. Gleeson agreed…. Now Magnum was asking for a delay in reporting…. Gleeson recommending ninety days. Although Magnum and I had spoken beforehand about delaying it until after the New Year, he now said that it shouldn't be a problem. He was asking Gleeson to allow me to serve my time in California, to be near the kids. Gleeson, of course, agreed.

Suddenly I noticed Gleeson rising from his chair, and that was it; it was over just like that. There would be no appeals, no Hail Mary passes, nothing. I was going to jail for almost two years. And the fine—fifty percent! A nightmare! Could I ever pay it back? Maybe. I would have to hit a home run. In the meantime, I would be forced to make twice as much as everyone else to live the same life. Fair enough, I thought. I could do that easily.

Outside the courtroom, the whole crew was gathered in the hallway—Alonso, OCD, the Mormon, Magnum, the Yale-man, and my parents. It was still all a blur to me. I hadn't recovered from the shock yet. There were lots of glum expressions. Apologies from Alonso and OCD and the Mormon, wishing it would have gone better. I thanked them, promising to keep in touch. I knew OCD and I would. As different as we were, we had learned much from each other. In spite of everything, I considered myself better off from the encounter.

Then I turned to Magnum and the Yale-man, and we exchanged hugs. They had done an amazing job, especially when it had mattered most. If someone I loved were in trouble, I would recommend the law offices of De Feis O'Connell & Rose and never look back. We would certainly keep in touch.