Sunday, I watched as depression set in for a Ravens’ kicker and for a Niners’ kick-returner. So we get a rematch of the 2008 Super Bowl, the Giants and the Patriots. I will pull for Eli and company, even though they knocked out my Cowboys late in the year. There’s just something about the dark force that is New England, that has never let me root for them.
The Giants had a better regular season record in ’08 as a wild card team, than this year when they won the NFC East, a division which might not have been as weak as many thought.
So I was researching how that 2008 Super Bowl unfolded, and a name caught my eye, which soon had me way off track.
Plaxico Burress was a star receiver for the Giants, by way of the Pittsburgh Steelers, by way of the Michigan State Spartans. Besides being a million-dollar athlete, Plaxico likes guns. In November of 2008, 10 months after the Giants’ Super Bowl Victory, he was in a Times Square nightclub. He was wearing sweat pants, which apparently didn’t have strong enough elastic to keep a Glock handgun from sliding down the leg. Burress tried to grab the gun before it slid out onto the floor, accidentally hitting the trigger, which resulted in a bullet in his leg.
He was released soon from a NYC hospital with a non-life threatening injury, but his trouble was just beginning. Mayor Bloomberg urged prosecutors to show the star receiver no mercy, saying that any punishment short of the minimum 3½ years for unlawful carrying of a handgun would be “a mockery of the law.’
He got two years, was released in June of 2011 and signed shortly thereafter with the Jets – one year for $3.017 million.
What caught my eye, in going back through the perils of poor Plaxico, was something he did just after he was sentenced. It was something I don’t think I’d ever have thought to do, and perhaps it was a smart thing. He hired a “prison consultant.” That’s right; there really are such people.
Below are a few leaders in the field, just in case, well, you know.
A convicted swindler and veteran of 17 federal prisons, Frank Sweeney got the idea for prison consulting back in 1993, after reading that one of the officers charged in the Rodney King beating was “terrified” at the prospect of going to a federal pen. Sweeney charged first-time convicts $200 for prison advice and even ran ads in USA Today that said, “Going to prison for the first time? We will tell you what to expect and how to survive. Our consultants are all graduates of the Federal prison system.”
Sweeney warns his clients to stay away from prison gangs, the drug culture, and to avoid disputes like repaying a loan. He also advises them they can get a better bunk by faking epilepsy.
Then there is Tom Miller of the “Dr. Prison Consulting Service.” Miller did time for dealing meth. His company assesses a client’s “prison demeanor” and gives advice accordingly, perhaps suggesting that shy people learn to play cards or talk sports in order to fit in. While they warn clients to be humble, they say it’s important to never allow another inmate to cut in the food line.
Larry Jay Levine of “Wall Street Prison Consultants” spent ten years in various federal prisons on securities fraud and narcotics charges. Released in 2007, he now advises a mix of white collar and drug criminals. He offers a “telephone crash course designed to help you get out alive.” Levine says the biggest challenge white-collar offenders have when entering prison is their lack of street smarts. He tells his clients, “Show some manners because prisoners are under a lot of stress. And don’t be a jerk. Say ‘excuse me’ and ‘thank you’. Don’t get into arguments or stare people down. And never go into the showers in the middle of the night.”
Last is Jimmy Tayoun, a white-collar felon and former Philadelphia City Councilman, who says he realized that such a service was needed when, one day, he saw a new guy arrive at his prison wearing a fur coat.
These are just a few, but there are many other professionals to choose from who have made prison consulting not just a career, but also their life’s passion. As for Plaxico, you’d have to ask him if hiring a consultant was money well spent. All I know is that if I ever do go to prison, I’m not going near the showers, day or night.