When I first heard about Dale Thrush—the Michigan businessman convicted of employment tax crimes and failure to file his income taxes—I had a sinking feeling. Not because I knew him personally. But because I know exactly what’s happening in his mind right now.
The fear. The denial. The scramble to figure out if there’s a way out.
I lived it too.
When I was charged with securities fraud years ago, I made every mistake early on—rationalizing, minimizing, waiting too long to prepare. I wish someone had grabbed me by the collar and told me what I’m about to tell you now.
If you’re facing a federal investigation or sentencing, you have two choices:
- Keep running from reality, or
- Take control and start building a future you can live with.
I learned the hard way. I’m hoping you won’t have to.
Accountability Isn’t Optional—It’s the Starting Line
When I pled guilty and walked into Taft Federal Prison Camp, I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t.
Because I hadn’t truly accepted the core truth: No one else was responsible for my situation but me.
Blaming the market, my lawyer, the system, or even bad luck—it all kept me stuck.
Until I owned my role, I couldn’t move forward.
If Dale Thrush is serious about changing his outcome, it starts here:
- Acknowledge the misuse of payroll taxes.
- Stop making excuses about the income tax filings.
- Show remorse with action—restitution, public acknowledgment, letters of apology.
When you’re accountable, you’re no longer asking for mercy. You’re showing you deserve a second chance.
What Mitigation Actually Looks Like (And What It Doesn’t)
People throw around the word “mitigation” like it’s some magic word in courtrooms. It’s not.
Real mitigation isn’t saying “I’m sorry” and expecting a break.
Real mitigation is documented, sustained, verifiable action.
When I finally woke up during my case, I started to build it:
- I wrote down everything I was doing to show the judge I was serious—paying restitution, volunteering, working on character development.
- I got character letters from people who had seen me change—not people doing me favors.
- I created a plan the court could see, not just hear.
If Thrush—or anyone else reading this—is serious, start now:
- Write a daily journal of actions you’re taking to improve.
- Engage experts to build a real plan (not just a PR statement).
- Make amends wherever you can, as fast as you can.
The court doesn’t care what you say. It cares what you prove.
Growth Doesn’t Happen by Accident—Especially in Prison
The first month I spent in prison was the worst month of my life.
Not because of the conditions.
Because I finally had nowhere left to hide from myself.
I saw two types of people at Taft Camp:
- The ones who spent their time playing cards and complaining.
- The ones who built something real for themselves.
A guy inside handed me a book—Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning—and it changed my life.
I started reading obsessively, setting goals, writing letters home every week, studying the stock market, and preparing for the day I’d leave.
If Thrush walks into this experience thinking he’ll “just get through it,” he’ll miss the only real opportunity prison offers:
Time to rebuild your mind, your habits, and your future.
You Can’t Do This Alone—And You Shouldn’t Try To
I had mentors. I had friends who called me out when I slipped back into bad patterns.
I had people who helped me see the blind spots I didn’t want to admit.
Thrush—and anyone else on this path—needs community.
Real community.
Not the “people who tell you what you want to hear” crowd.
Find the people who are willing to tell you the truth.
Find people who’ve been through it and came out better, not bitter.
If you don’t know where to start, start by joining us on Monday. We don’t sugarcoat anything—but we do show you what actually works.
If You Don’t Control the Story, the System Will
Here’s the part nobody told me until it was almost too late:
If you don’t actively shape your story, everyone else—the prosecutor, the judge, even the media—will do it for you.
When I was locked up, I didn’t waste time trying to fix the past. I built the future:
- I wrote Lessons From Prison.
- I documented my progress—every course, every book, every goal achieved.
- I took responsibility out loud and often.
It wasn’t about image.
It was about becoming the person I said I wanted to be—and making it undeniable to anyone watching.
Thrush still has a window to do that.
You do too.
But it won’t stay open forever.
Final Thought: You’re Not Stuck—Unless You Stay Stuck
If you’re reading this and you feel like it’s too late, let me tell you—it’s not.
You are not the crime.
You are what you do about it now.
Start small. Start with one letter. One apology. One act of ownership.
That’s how you rebuild.
That’s how you earn back trust.
And if you don’t know where to start, start with us.
Justin Paperny
P.S. Every Monday at 1 p.m. Pacific, we host a live webinar. You’ll hear real stories, ask real questions, and learn the exact strategies people use to earn better outcomes in court and in prison. Show up ready to work—it could change everything.
