I read a book and watched a movie while in jail and I’m still going to do it, my former partner said.
The film, “The Hangover Part III,” was a huge influence on my life, but the book and movies also helped me get out of jail and into a new, more meaningful life, said my former colleague, who was sentenced to life in prison.
The book and movie helped me break out of the mold of a hardened criminal, said the former partner, who spoke on condition of anonymity out of fear of retaliation from the government.
I was sentenced on a slew of charges including armed robbery, grand theft auto, theft and attempted murder.
The FBI said in the filing that “the book and the movie, both of which focus on the plight of the incarcerated, played a central role in my conviction.”
The former partner’s experience was one of several I’ve recounted for a blog post I published last week.
The blog post was written by former White House communications director Jen Psaki, who wrote that she was sentenced in 2011 to life without parole for selling cocaine in Los Angeles.
She was also sentenced to four years in prison for drug trafficking and distribution of heroin and cocaine, a crime she was convicted of committing when she was 17 years old.
In my own story, I was sentenced for selling heroin to a minor in a carjacking.
When I was 17, I sold drugs to a juvenile to buy drugs from.
On January 1, 2010, the first day of my sentence, I pleaded guilty to one count of possession with intent to distribute heroin.
In the sentencing memorandum, the FBI said I sold heroin to two different people, who had previously purchased heroin from me.
The indictment said I also sold heroin “to an undercover FBI agent who posed as a customer in an online chat room to obtain a cocaine sale from a person he met through a dating website.”
The document described me as “not particularly gifted” and said I was “not especially intelligent” and “not exceptionally creative” and that I “may have been an occasional consumer of a variety of illegal drugs.”
It added that I was also a “potential violent drug user” who was “prone to violence.”
A month after my sentence was announced, I went to jail.
After my first arrest, I spent several days in solitary confinement.
When I asked for an attorney, a correctional officer told me I could only get one at a time.
After a few days, I got a call from the judge.
He said I could ask for a lawyer if I was willing to go to the front desk to speak with an attorney.
A few days later, the judge sent me to the maximum-security unit of the Los Angeles County Jail.
“I was terrified.
I was in shock.
I didn’t want to be there,” said the defendant, who requested her name not be used because of the pending charges against her.
She said she was scared for her life.
While I was there, I learned a lot, I said in my sentencing memorandum.
I learned that the judge would consider a person’s “capacity to understand the consequences of their actions, the nature of their conduct, and their emotional state,” according to the document.
My lawyer said she did not know what I could say to the judge to get him to change his mind, but she also did not believe that I had committed any crime.
Later, while being held in solitary, I spoke with my lawyer, who told me that if I told the judge anything about my own drug use, he would consider it a crime, the document said.
She said that she told the FBI and U.S. Attorney’s Office that I took heroin because I was going to be released from prison after serving four years, but that I also said that I did it because I wanted to get out.
Despite my concerns, she said, I never saw any reason for me to take the stand.
Her concerns about my credibility are well-founded, she told me.
She told me it is hard to believe that my actions were not taken under duress, and that it is impossible for me, as a drug dealer, to be a good person.
It was at this point that I began to feel bad for my client.
I realized that I could not be sure that I wasn’t being coached by someone who was lying to me, she wrote.
She continued: I felt guilty because I felt that the government was using me as a pawn in their larger plan to get me to testify against other dealers, and to tell the truth about what I had done.
But after I was released from the jail, my lawyer said, there was a change in my mind.
She called me and told me she had talked to someone who had been at the jail during my time in solitary.
He had told her that