My Guilty Plea Hearing, 7-2-2010

 I now know how an excommunicant feels in church.

The hearing presented no great problems. I had to admit if I understood everything in the plea agreement - paragraph by paragraph. I had to admit I understood the charges. I had to admit the facts. Nothing I have not done already in my writings and to a far larger crowd than attended the hearing (the judge, a female bailiff, a U.S. Attorney, a representative from federal probation, a U.S. Marshal, and my lawyer.)

This hearing made my first appearance in court since my suicide plans fell apart. Even after I left my initial hearing, I plotted and looked for some means of finishing what I started.

Merely entering the federal courthouse made my chest tighten. I wore my dark suit, white shirt, and paisley tie. I looked presentable.

Remembering I broke my oath as an attorney worried my conscience. I had these thoughts last year, too. Combine these thoughts with the memory of how I wronged my ex-wife, and you may understand why the idea of suicide was forefront of my brain. I brought dishonor on my profession and what good I had done as a lawyer. I branded myself with my dishonor. Do you not see my meaning that some debts, some sins, cannot be redeemed without blood?

Have you ever killed something you loved? I have. Work was all that gave my life any purpose - especially after May 2009. With purpose came my hold on sanity. Knowing I could never solve the problems I was asked to solve, knowing that I could not make happy others looking to me for their happiness, knowing that I could not escape the mountain of debt, my work was killing me.

If anyone had given me the option of being taken to a basement room for a bullet in the back of the head, I would have taken the option. I could then stop being a bother: those in the courtroom could attend to more important matters; my friends and family could deal with their lives without an irrelevant distraction. I would fade from an embarrassment into the obscurity of a ghost. Unfortunately, no one in that courtroom gave me the option of a bullet.

You will find in these notes the looting of my mind. It may be that someone will find a use for ideas. Others may find a way to change their lives. This may not completely atone for all my wrongdoing. Yes, I question whether anything can repair the harm my dishonor did family and friends, but it is the best I can do for now. If I survive my expected ten years in prison, I may have time and health enough to do more.

I do not share the federal government's apparent belief that prison serves as an atonement for my wrongs. I do not share its opinion. I have a higher estimate of what entails atonement. The sentence will end, but my obligation to repair the harm caused goes on till death does come for me.

sch

[And this is why you find these notes here. I retain hope that anyone suffering from depression goes for treatment. I hope anyone engaging in criminal activity sees where that activity will take them. sch 2/7/2023.]