When someone chooses to cooperate with the government in a white-collar case, it doesn’t just affect their own case—it impacts every relationship they have, especially with co-defendants. Cooperation fractures relationships–this is a wicked game, this white collar crime game.

In many cases the moment someone agrees to sit for a proffer or sign a cooperation agreement, everything shifts. Lawyers stop sharing information. Co-defendants stop communicating (or they should, but so many do not). And the courtroom becomes not just a place to defend yourself against the government, but a place to defend your position within the case itself.

Let’s look at a real example.

In the Varsity Blues college admissions scandal, Rick Singer, the architect of the scheme, chose to cooperate with the government. He wore a wire, recorded calls, and gave prosecutors everything they needed to build cases against the families he had once recruited into his operation—including Felicity Huffman, Mossimo Giannulli (whom we worked with), and more than ten other defendants. His cooperation gave the government leverage to pressure people into fast plea deals—and punish those who didn’t fall in line.

Some, like Huffman, pled early and received short sentences—she served just 11 days. Giannulli, who fought longer before pleading, received five months. But the larger point is this: when one person cooperates, the entire landscape of a case shifts. Suddenly, everyone is recalculating their risk—and questioning who they can trust.

That emotional tension plays out in nearly every multi-defendant white-collar case.

In my own experience, I saw it up close. When my co-defendant began cooperating, it changed everything. Our defense strategies immediately diverged. What was once a shared front became a potential conflict. He began talking to the government. And then, months later, he was indicted on new charges. That indictment voided his plea and cooperation agreements. He never received a 5K1.1. He never got the benefit he expected. Instead, he ended up with a longer sentence—because his credibility was gone, and his cooperation was no longer usable.

Here’s what defendants need to understand about cooperation in white collar crime cases.

When you decide to cooperate, you don’t get to control how others will respond. You may be removed from joint defense agreements. You may be called a snitch, as the prison parlance goes. You may be cut off from friends, business partners, even family. And in some cases, co-defendants may start pointing fingers your way to reduce their own exposure.

Cooperation can also create ethical dilemmas and strategic landmines. You’re helping the government build cases—possibly against people you know, worked with, or even care about. For some, that trade-off is worth it. For others, it’s a line they never imagined crossing.

This isn’t said to discourage cooperation—but to prepare you for what it means in full. Cooperation isn’t just about helping the government. It’s about accepting the fallout—and navigating the emotional and strategic breakdowns that come with it.

And here’s the thing most people don’t know: even if you cooperate, there’s no guarantee the government will ask for a lower sentence. A motion for leniency—like a 5K1.1 or a Rule 35(b)—is completely within their control. You can’t ask the judge for it. Only the government can. And if they decide your help wasn’t valuable enough, or if they think you weren’t fully honest, they can walk away without giving you credit.

We’ll unpack those sentencing tools in detail in the next blog—how they work, who qualifies, and how much time they actually shave off.

Cooperation is a big choice and a personal one.If you’re considering cooperation—or you’re unsure how it could affect your case or your co-defendants—I invite you to join our next free webinar. We’ll walk through real scenarios, answer your questions live.

Justin Paperny