My present & former clients were uneasy, as they obviously feared that I would cooperate with law enforcement, and disclose any and all information which might result in a reduced sentence for me at a later date. Some were reluctant to have any personal contact with me, thinking I was wired up with hidden microphones. However, they didn't know me very well. Having thrown in my lot with a group of pirates, I was not about to betray them. They had very short memories; I was cut from a different cloth.

Three years prior, I had been subpoenaed before a Federal Grand Jury to testify against some of my most important clients. I had declined, under most difficult circumstances, and risked immediate imprisonment, due to my own personal code. I would not, under any circumstances, give up my clients, even if I had been engaged in criminal activities, and even if I brought down heat upon myself. That's how hardcore I was.

Could I have walked away from the subsequent criminal indictment? Possibly, but my twisted interpretation of the attorney-client privilege interfered with my responsibilities as a lawyer to the system. Most people do not realise that lawyers also have certain duties as officers of the court. The attorney-client principle does not apply when the lawyer and/or the clients are engaged in criminal activity. I was simply too stubborn to accept that, and it ultimately cost me dearly.

Also, around this time, a wealthy upper-class Colombian client whom I had represented in the past, got mixed up in a failed effort to break out an inmate from Miami's Federal Correctional Institution. The client's father, a wise man who lived in the United States, decided that his son would best be served by not being extricated from his latest scandal, and refused to pay for his representation after his arrest. I knew that, without retaining experienced private counsel, he had a little or no chance of obtaining an acquittal. It seemed like his father was throwing his son's life away. I could not change his mind, and it added to my depression.

The period just before my incarceration reminded me of the days just before I was to report to be shipped out to Vietnam when I was in the army. Fortunately, I was twice as old as I had been as a soldier, and I knew I would be coming back from this one, barring any unforeseen event. I would be back.

I concentrated upon closing out my pending files, spending as much time as possible with my three-year old son, and putting my affairs in order. I would be gone a long time; four years. The beautiful weather that we have in Florida at the end of the year was just beginning, but I could see only dark clouds. Would the other prisoners resent me because I was a lawyer? I knew the correctional officers in the prison system had made it difficult for some lawyers who had represented drug defendants. What was in store for me?

To make matters worse, I could tell that my marriage was not going to survive my prison term. Call it male intuition, but I knew I could not count on a home to come back to. My life seemed to be falling apart at the seams, but I needed to hold it together. 


Most of my major clients were:

• Incarcerated in federal prison, on terms ranging from  five years to multiple life.

• Fugitives hiding out in Latin America, Cuba, Canada and Western Europe.

• Dead of drug overdoses, automobile crashes, mysterious disappearances, or fatal accidents of dubious origin.

• Burned out on drugs.

• Waiting anxiously for the knock on the door, when their own arrests would finally occur.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Next week: time to pack up.