When someone is under investigation for a white-collar crime, one of the first questions they often ask is : Should I cooperate? That question doesn’t have a simple answer, and too many people make assumptions about what cooperation will actually mean. They think: “If I help the government, I’ll get a shorter federal prison sentence.” And yes, cooperation can absolutely lead to a better outcome. But it’s not a guarantee and not always a straight line.

Let’s start with the potential upside.

In the case of Scott Tucker (for transparency, we worked with Scott), the payday loan executive sentenced to more than 16 years, the government made it clear that multiple co-defendants who cooperated received far lighter sentences—some even avoided prison altogether. These individuals turned over documents, wore wires, sat for interviews, and helped prosecutors build their cases. That kind of cooperation doesn’t just help the government—it changes lives at sentencing.

Another example: Salvatore Lauria, a stockbroker involved in a pump-and-dump scheme alongside Michael “Mikey Scars” DiLeonardo, initially faced more than a decade in prison. After cooperating and testifying in several high-profile trials, he ended up serving roughly two years. That wasn’t luck—it was leverage created by his willingness to help the government.

But cooperation in a white collar crime case comes with risks, and they’re serious.

First, cooperation is not anonymous. Once you sign that proffer or cooperation agreement, you’re on the government’s radar. If they believe you’re holding anything back—or worse, lying—you’ve blown the deal. And if that happens, the consequences can be worse than if you’d never cooperated. You can lose credit for acceptance of responsibility, face obstruction charges, and watch any hope of a downward departure vanish.

Second, clarity takes time. In some cases, years. I’ve worked with people who cooperated early, sat through multiple proffers, testified in court—and still had no sentencing date on the calendar two or three years later. You’re in limbo. You can’t move forward. And you have no control over how long the government takes to bring other cases to resolution before they make good on any cooperation agreement.

Then there’s the personal fallout. Cooperators are often labeled. People you once worked with, did business with, even shared meals with—may cut you off completely. That emotional and reputational cost is something no judge sees on a sentencing memo, but it’s very real.

So, who should cooperate in a white collar crime case?

Only those who are prepared. Not just legally, but emotionally and mentally. Cooperation is a long-term strategy. It requires absolute honesty, an ironclad memory, and the patience to live in uncertainty. And it must be done with proper guidance. The wrong approach can sink your case, damage your credibility, and make things worse.

In the right situation, cooperation can reduce your sentence by years. In the wrong situation, or if done carelessly, it can backfire and remove options you didn’t know you had.

That’s why the decision to cooperate is never just about the potential reward. It’s about the total cost—and whether you’re really ready to carry it.

Justin Paperny