| Specializing In Stock and Securities Fraud Federal Sentence Reductions |
| Federal Prison Survival Programs & Sentence Reductions |
| © 2009 American Prison Consultants |
| Going From The Exchange Floor To The Prison Yard? |
| _________________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________________ |
| Legal Links |
ATF BOP Border Patrol DEA DOJ FBI Homeland Sec IRS Secret Service U.S. Customs U.S. Marshal CIA DIA NSA Interpol Scotland Yard RCMP Austrl Fed Police |
| Federal Court Links |
1st Circuit
2nd Circuit
3rd Circuit
4th Circuit
5th Circuit
6th Circuit
7th Circuit
8th Circuit
9th Circuit
10th Circuit
11th Circuit
D.C. Circuit
U.S. Supreme Ct.
| 888.558.2151 |
| Statutes |
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Feb. 9 will be a big day for Samuel Waksal, the
former chief executive officer of biotech firm
ImClone. That day he'll be released from federal
custody after serving five years, six months, two
weeks for insider trading. This is nine months
less than his original sentence. Why the shorter
time? He was rewarded for participating in a
prison rehab program for substance abusers.
Except he's not a substance abuser—or at least
he wasn't until a few months before his
sentencing. Waksal told a probation officer
during his presentence interview that he was
just a "social drinker" and drank "about five
glasses of wine per week." At his plea hearing
Waksal advised the judge under oath that he'd
never been treated for drug or alcohol addiction.
But a month later Waksal's lawyers told the feds
he had recently developed a "dependence on
alcohol" and would benefit from treatment for
his newly acquired addiction. How convenient,
given that the rehab program is the main way
white-collar offenders get time off their
sentences. Waksal declined comment on
grounds it was a private matter.
former chief executive officer of biotech firm
ImClone. That day he'll be released from federal
custody after serving five years, six months, two
weeks for insider trading. This is nine months
less than his original sentence. Why the shorter
time? He was rewarded for participating in a
prison rehab program for substance abusers.
Except he's not a substance abuser—or at least
he wasn't until a few months before his
sentencing. Waksal told a probation officer
during his presentence interview that he was
just a "social drinker" and drank "about five
glasses of wine per week." At his plea hearing
Waksal advised the judge under oath that he'd
never been treated for drug or alcohol addiction.
But a month later Waksal's lawyers told the feds
he had recently developed a "dependence on
alcohol" and would benefit from treatment for
his newly acquired addiction. How convenient,
given that the rehab program is the main way
white-collar offenders get time off their
sentences. Waksal declined comment on
grounds it was a private matter.
defined to include ethyl alcohol) has been around since 1919. But inmates weren't clamouring for rehab
2008 there were 18,000 prisoners in it, with a wait list topping 7,000.
For offenders with lengthy sentences, 12 months may not matter greatly. But for white-collar criminals like
class action lawyer William Lerach, serving time in a kickback scheme, it can halve a sentence.
Unfortunately for Lerach, in June a judge denied his request for the program, ruling that he didn't appear to
have an alcohol problem requiring intensive treatment.
The drug abuse program is so attractive it has cultivated a cottage industry of consultants who advise
convicts and their lawyers on how to get in. Among them is Larry J. Levine, who started American Prison
Consultants after serving nine years for drug-related charges. Levine's Web site boasts that by taking
advantage of "obscure" prison policies he can help prospective prisoners "receive extra time off their
sentence even with no evidence of drug or alcohol abuse in their [presentence] report." For a fee of up to
reduction. For example, he suggests that clients show up drunk on the day they surrender so that they get
interviewed about their substance abuse problem right away. "BOP is looking for reasons to put people into
the program," he says.
Alan Ellis, a San Francisco attorney who specializes in post conviction issues, says at most half of those
seeking advice on how to get into the nifty sentence-cutting program have genuine substance abuse
problems. Another consultant, Gareth Lasky, who used to be coordinator of the treatment program for the
federal prison in Sheridan, Ore., says he once had to talk an offender out of having his mother, who worked
in a doctor's office, swipe letterhead for phoney treatment notes. Ellis and Lasky say they don't help
candidates game the system.
2008 there were 18,000 prisoners in it, with a wait list topping 7,000.
For offenders with lengthy sentences, 12 months may not matter greatly. But for white-collar criminals like
class action lawyer William Lerach, serving time in a kickback scheme, it can halve a sentence.
Unfortunately for Lerach, in June a judge denied his request for the program, ruling that he didn't appear to
have an alcohol problem requiring intensive treatment.
The drug abuse program is so attractive it has cultivated a cottage industry of consultants who advise
convicts and their lawyers on how to get in. Among them is Larry J. Levine, who started American Prison
Consultants after serving nine years for drug-related charges. Levine's Web site boasts that by taking
advantage of "obscure" prison policies he can help prospective prisoners "receive extra time off their
sentence even with no evidence of drug or alcohol abuse in their [presentence] report." For a fee of up to
reduction. For example, he suggests that clients show up drunk on the day they surrender so that they get
interviewed about their substance abuse problem right away. "BOP is looking for reasons to put people into
the program," he says.
Alan Ellis, a San Francisco attorney who specializes in post conviction issues, says at most half of those
seeking advice on how to get into the nifty sentence-cutting program have genuine substance abuse
problems. Another consultant, Gareth Lasky, who used to be coordinator of the treatment program for the
federal prison in Sheridan, Ore., says he once had to talk an offender out of having his mother, who worked
in a doctor's office, swipe letterhead for phoney treatment notes. Ellis and Lasky say they don't help
candidates game the system.
sentence. He told a probation officer he doesn't like the taste of alcohol and drinks only when giving a toast.
Campbell's lawyer even argued to the judge at sentencing that imprisonment wasn't necessary because
Campbell had "no health or substance abuse problems" and thus was "not in need of the already thinly
spread services offered by the correctional system."
Nonetheless, Campbell applied to the program, claiming to be a long-time alcoholic. He got notes from two
doctors who purportedly treated him for alcohol abuse. Curiously, one was a cardiologist and the other an
saying that he had observed the mayor drinking at a dinner hosted at the doctor's home. The regional
coordinator found the letter "disturbing" and deemed Campbell ineligible for the program. He was overruled
by national program coordinator Beth A. Weinman, who said that Campbell met the criteria for admission.
Campbell was already in a halfway house on his way to being released four months early when the feds
discovered his lie and had him sent back to prison.
Campbell's lawyer even argued to the judge at sentencing that imprisonment wasn't necessary because
Campbell had "no health or substance abuse problems" and thus was "not in need of the already thinly
spread services offered by the correctional system."
Nonetheless, Campbell applied to the program, claiming to be a long-time alcoholic. He got notes from two
doctors who purportedly treated him for alcohol abuse. Curiously, one was a cardiologist and the other an
saying that he had observed the mayor drinking at a dinner hosted at the doctor's home. The regional
coordinator found the letter "disturbing" and deemed Campbell ineligible for the program. He was overruled
by national program coordinator Beth A. Weinman, who said that Campbell met the criteria for admission.
Campbell was already in a halfway house on his way to being released four months early when the feds
discovered his lie and had him sent back to prison.
During the trial of Enron hoodlum Jeffrey Skilling, former Enron treasurer Ben F. Glisan Jr. joked from the
Glisan's two-drink-a-night dependency, Skilling's attorney snickered, "If you got a drinking problem, then I'm
in serious trouble." To which Glisan rejoined, "Well, you'll get a year off." In his 2007 memoir, Cooked,
drug-dealer-turned-celebrity-chef Jeff Henderson admits to scheming his way into the program. Henderson
writes that he got admitted to the program in Sheridan even though he "never used drugs and hadn't even
been around any since [he] stopped selling them."
Some judges may tolerate overstretched abuse claims as a means to lessen unduly harsh sentences
judges feel, if a person is sentenced too long anyway, why not help him get any relief possible to get out
earlier." Washington, D.C. criminal defence lawyer Barry Boss, who denies any widespread abuse of the
program, says: "When a 50-year-old first offender receives a ten-year prison sentence for an economic
crime, I find it hard to accept that people are offended that the person may receive a year off for
participation in a rigorous substance abuse program."
To be sure, there is some good that comes of the treatment program. It's no joke. It's an intense 500 hours
of cognitive behavioural treatment over a nine-month period, during which participants are housed in a
dorm-like unit set apart from the general population. The Bureau of Prisons cites a 2000 study finding that
male inmates who participate are 16 per cent less likely to commit another crime and 15 per cent less likely
to relapse to drug use.
The 2009 Criminal Justice Transition Coalition, a group of organizations advocating criminal justice reform,
is asking President-elect Barack Obama to expand the program to yet more inmates. Even Sam Waksal
might drink to that.
Glisan's two-drink-a-night dependency, Skilling's attorney snickered, "If you got a drinking problem, then I'm
in serious trouble." To which Glisan rejoined, "Well, you'll get a year off." In his 2007 memoir, Cooked,
drug-dealer-turned-celebrity-chef Jeff Henderson admits to scheming his way into the program. Henderson
writes that he got admitted to the program in Sheridan even though he "never used drugs and hadn't even
been around any since [he] stopped selling them."
Some judges may tolerate overstretched abuse claims as a means to lessen unduly harsh sentences
judges feel, if a person is sentenced too long anyway, why not help him get any relief possible to get out
earlier." Washington, D.C. criminal defence lawyer Barry Boss, who denies any widespread abuse of the
program, says: "When a 50-year-old first offender receives a ten-year prison sentence for an economic
crime, I find it hard to accept that people are offended that the person may receive a year off for
participation in a rigorous substance abuse program."
To be sure, there is some good that comes of the treatment program. It's no joke. It's an intense 500 hours
of cognitive behavioural treatment over a nine-month period, during which participants are housed in a
dorm-like unit set apart from the general population. The Bureau of Prisons cites a 2000 study finding that
male inmates who participate are 16 per cent less likely to commit another crime and 15 per cent less likely
to relapse to drug use.
The 2009 Criminal Justice Transition Coalition, a group of organizations advocating criminal justice reform,
is asking President-elect Barack Obama to expand the program to yet more inmates. Even Sam Waksal
might drink to that.
| Larry Levine Prison News Stories |
