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| Categories | Thrillers & Suspense |
| Author | John Grisham |
| Publisher | Hodder Paperbacks (January 1, 2013) |
| Language | English |
| Paperback | 353 pages |
| Item Weight | 9.7 ounces |
| Dimensions |
5.12 x 0.98 x 7.76 inches |
I. Book introduction
The Racketeer is a legal thriller novel written by John Grisham that was released on October 23, 2012 by Doubleday with an initial printing of 1.5 million copies. It was one of the best selling books of 2012 and spent several weeks atop various best seller lists.
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “The Racketeer is guilty of only one thing: keeping us engaged until the very last page.”—USA Today •In the history of the United States, only four active federal judges have been murdered. Judge Raymond Fawcett has just become number five.
His body is found in his remote lakeside cabin. There is no sign of forced entry or struggle. Just two dead bodies: Judge Fawcett and his young secretary. And one large, state-of-the-art, extremely secure safe, opened and emptied.
One man, a former attorney, knows who killed Judge Fawcett, and why. But that man, Malcolm Bannister, is currently residing in the Federal Prison Camp near Frostburg, Maryland. Though serving time, Malcolm has an ace up his sleeve. He has information the FBI would love to know. Malcolm would love to tell them. But everything has a price—and the man known as the Racketeer wasn’t born yesterday.
Plot
Malcolm Bannister is an African American attorney in a small-town Virginia law firm. A real estate transaction which he undertook in good faith turns out to have involved the purchase of a secluded hunting lodge where a crooked Capitol Hill lobbyist invited corrupt Congressmen for debaucherous orgies with underage girls. After being caught up in a large FBI sweep, Bannister is tried and convicted of racketeering despite his protestations of innocence. The story begins with Bannister halfway through his ten-year prison term; he has since been disbarred, divorced by his wife, lost contact with his son and is nursing a bitter grudge against the federal government and the FBI.
After hearing of the brutal murders of federal judge Raymond Fawcett and his mistress, Bannister makes a deal with the FBI to give them the name of the killer, in exchange for his release and being put into the Witness Protection Program, supposedly to protect him from the killer’s associates. He informs them that Quinn Rucker, a drug dealer he met in prison, had vowed to escape and murder Fawcett as revenge for a failed bribery attempt in which the judge took $500,000 but didn’t follow through on his end of the deal. Acting on information from Bannister, the FBI arrest Quinn and, despite having no evidence against him, manipulate him into confessing to the murder using legal interrogation tactics. Following the indictment, Quinn claims to have been unlawfully coerced into the confession.
Bannister is released and given a new face and identity: Max Reed Baldwin. After the FBI discovers that Rucker’s gang knows Bannister’s whereabouts and is seeking revenge, he leaves the program and goes off the radar. He sets up a fake film company and meets another man he had met in prison, Nathan Cooley, who doesn’t recognize him. Bannister convinces Cooley to take part in the filming of a documentary about corruption in the FBI and the DEA. He rents a private plane, ostensibly to fly the two to Florida, but drugs Cooley during the flight and has the plane fly to Jamaica, framing him for drug smuggling and gun running in the process. As the only white inmate in a jail where all other prisoners and the guards are black, Cooley finds himself the subject of vicious bullying.
Bannister tells Cooley that it was Jamaican officials who framed him, and are demanding $500,000 for his release. Cooley tells Bannister of a secret stash of gold worth $8.5 million hidden in his backyard, which Bannister arranges for Vanessa, his lover and accomplice, to steal, before he returns to the US. After the two of them hide the gold in a series of safety deposit boxes, Vanessa – in reality Quinn’s sister – reveals to Quinn’s lawyer that her brother has an alibi for the time of Fawcett’s murder. The FBI, after receiving an email about the gold from Bannister, realize that he and Quinn have been working together; Quinn’s arrest and indictment was all part of a plan to enable Bannister to leave prison and take the gold from Fawcett’s killer, before clearing Quinn’s name.
In exchange for immunity for both himself and Quinn, Bannister reveals to the FBI that Cooley is Fawcett’s real killer. Before he was imprisoned, Cooley discovered the gold – which Fawcett had taken from a mining company in exchange for a favorable ruling giving them permission to mine uranium – and told Bannister about his plans to steal it while in prison in an attempt to convince the attorney to get him an early release. Bannister promises to send a bar of gold with Cooley’s fingerprints to the FBI as proof of his guilt, while also anticipating that Cooley will make a full confession to the murder in order to get out of Jamaica. Bannister warns the FBI to investigate the bribery that took place between Judge Fawcett and the mining company, or he will give the story to the press. The novel ends with Bannister, Vanessa, Quinn – revealed to be Bannister’s best friend – and Quinn’s brother Dee Ray celebrating in Antigua with all the gold.
Editorial Reviews
“With every new book I appreciate John Grisham a little more, for his feisty critiques of the legal system, his compassion for the underdog, and his willingness to strike out in new directions.”—Entertainment Weekly
“John Grisham is exceptionally good at what he does—indeed, right now in this country, nobody does it better . . . Grisham’s books are also smart, imaginative, and funny, populated by complex interesting people, written by a man who is driven not merely by the desire to entertain but also by genuine (if understated) outrage at human cupidity and venality.”—Jonathan Yardley, The Washington Post
“The secrets of Grisham’s success are no secret at all. There are two of them: his pacing, which ranges from fast to breakneck, and his theme—little guy takes on big conspiracy with the little guy getting the win in the end. —Time
“The law, by its nature, creates drama, and a new Grisham promises us an inside look at the dirty machineries of process and power, with plenty of an entertainment.” – Los Angeles Times
“John Grisham is about as good a storyteller as we’ve got in the United States these days.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Grisham is a marvelous storyteller who works readers the way a good trial lawyer works a jury.”—The Philadelphia Inquirer
“John Grisham owns the legal thriller.”—The Denver Post
“John Grisham is not just popular, he is one of the most popular novelists of our time. He is a craftsman and he writes good stories, engaging characters, and clever plots.”—The Seattle Times
“A mighty narrative talent and an unerring eye for hot-button issues.”—Chicago Sun-Times
“A legal literary legend.”—USA Today
About John Grisham
John Grisham (born February 8, 1955 in Jonesboro, Arkansas) is an American novelist, lawyer and former member of the 7th district of the Mississippi House of Representatives, known for his popular legal thrillers. According to the American Academy of Achievement, Grisham has written 28 consecutive number-one fiction bestsellers, and his books have sold 300 million copies worldwide. Along with Tom Clancy and J. K. Rowling, Grisham is one of only three authors to have sold two million copies on a first printing.
Grisham graduated from Mississippi State University and earned a Juris Doctor from the University of Mississippi School of Law in 1981. He practised criminal law for about a decade and served in the Mississippi House of Representatives from 1983 to 1990.
Grisham’s first novel, A Time to Kill, was published in June 1989, four years after he began writing it. Grisham’s first bestseller, The Firm, sold more than seven million copies. The book was adapted into a 1993 feature film of the same name, starring Tom Cruise, and a 2012 TV series which continues the story ten years after the events of the film and novel. Seven of his other novels have also been adapted into films: The Chamber, The Client, A Painted House, The Pelican Brief, The Rainmaker, The Runaway Jury, and Skipping Christmas.
Grisham is a two-time winner of the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction and was honored with the Library of Congress Creative Achievement Award for Fiction.
When he’s not writing, Grisham serves on the board of directors of the Innocence Project and of Centurion Ministries, two national organizations dedicated to exonerating those who have been wrongfully convicted. Much of his fiction explores deep-seated problems in our criminal justice system.
John Girsham lives on a farm in central Virginia.
II. Reviewer: The Racketeer
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1. RUDS reviews for The Racketeer
The John Grishman of yore has resurfaced with this book. Just when I am beginning to doubt that he is still capable of creating works of the same calibre as his earlier outputs, he came up with this book that is so engrossing I am sure his wayward fans would be resurrected. To say that this has come in the most opportune time is an understatement.
2. LEWIS WEINSTEIN reviews for The Racketeer
“The Racketeer” is the best Grisham and one of the best crime/thrillers I have ever read. Written in an easy-to-read, straight-forward style, the plot mixes brilliant complexity and multiple surprises in a high-tension manner that doesn’t end until the last page. That’s all I can say, because to say more, even a single word, might interfere with the joy I think you will have experiencing this book for yourself.
3. MICHAEL SLAVIN reviews for The Racketeer
“I am a lawyer, and I am in prison. It’s a long story.”
I love this opening line. It does not disappoint.
It is interesting as an innocent black lawyer goes to prison. (You find this out right away.) Then you follow the FBI investigating a murdered Federal Judge who looks like he was corrupt. I love Grisham’s discretion when the lawyer gets a makeover. I think you will too. I’ll never forget that character.
The innocent lawyer finds out and is able to use this to get out of prison. That is when the fun begins. I just don’t want to tell you too much, but you will not see the ending coming.
You will travel to Virginia, Miami, a few Caribbean islands and their jails, see fake passports used, people tricked, and the good guy running. The Feds can not figure out how the bad guys find his changed identity.
Fun book, that I could not wait to get back too and keep reading to see what was next.
4. TERESA CRAWFORD reviews for The Racketeer
Oh Grisham, you are back!!!!
You had me hooked from the first chapter. I felt like I was on a continuos road trip and the adventure was thrilling. I could almost see Bannister (main character) having a meeting at the George Washington Hotel or gossiping in one of the Old Towne coffee shops or at his office on Braddock Street in Winchester, VA (as this town is my home) so it was easy to visualize the places (New Market battlefield, Reston, Radford, Roanoke, Fairfax, DC, Frostburg) – it made it seem more real to me.
About half way through the book, I was wondering where the story was taking me, but Grisham wasn’t done with this reader, not by a long shot, just another bend in the road. I did get a little feeling of The Firm as I was reading along, as others might. After reading though, I felt like people might say “those back woods Virginians are nothing by criminals”. I’m pretty sure we aren’t all criminals or back woodsy, but if we’re like Bannister, damn we’re smart!
5. NOELEEN reviews for The Racketeer
I haven’t read a John Grisham book in years, not since his most early works. I’m so glad I decided to read The Racketeer. It had me hooked from the first page and after that, well, I couldn’t turn the pages quickly enough, keeping me up too late the last couple of nights.
The Racketeer is skilfully written, has a engaging story and plot, is nicely paced, has a really clever protagonist in Malcolm Bannister and lots of Feds, I love lots of Feds in a story like this! Gotta love those suits! This book had everything I really enjoy in a good legal mystery, suspense novel. Although at times, as a reader, you have to suspend belief at some of the turn of events, I didn’t really care, I just enjoyed the story so much for the adventure it was.
I must check out some more of John Grisham’s books that I have failed to read through the years, I have the feeling that I might be missing out on some really good stories. Recommended if you enjoy legal thrillers, mystery or suspense and are looking for a quick, fast-paced and exciting crime novel.
6. JOHN WALKER reviews for The Racketeer
Malcolm Bannister was living the life of a retail lawyer in a Virginia town, doing real estate transactions, wills, and the other routine work which occupies a three partner firm, paying the bills but never striking it rich. A law school classmate contacts him and lets him know there’s a potentially large commission available for negotiating the purchase of a hunting lodge in rural Virginia for an anonymous client. Bannister doesn’t like the smell of the transaction, especially after a number of odd twists and turns during the negotiation, but bills must be paid, and this fee will go a long way toward that goal. Without any warning, during a civic function, costumed goons arrest him and perp-walk him before previously-arranged state media. He, based upon his holding funds in escrow for a real estate transaction, is accused of “money laundering” and indicted as part of a RICO prosecution of a Washington influence peddler. Railroaded through the “justice system” by an ambitious federal prosecutor and sentenced by a vindictive judge, he finds himself imprisoned for ten years at a “Club Fed” facility along with other nonviolent “criminals”.
Five years into his sentence, he has become the librarian and “jailhouse lawyer” of the prison, filing motions on behalf of his fellow inmates and, on occasion, seeing injustices in their convictions reversed. He has lost everything else: his wife has divorced him and remarried, and his law license has been revoked; he has little hope of resuming his career after release.
A jailhouse lawyer hears many things from his “clients”: some boastful, others bogus, but some revealing secrets which those holding them think might help to get them out. When a federal judge is murdered, Bannister knows, from his contacts in prison, precisely who committed the crime and leverages his position to obtain his own release, disappearance into witness protection, and immunity from prosecution for earlier acts. The FBI, under pressure to solve the case and with no other leads, is persuaded by what Bannister has to offer and takes him up on the deal.
A jailhouse lawyer, wrongly convicted on a bogus charge by a despotic regime has a great deal of time to ponder how he has been wronged, identify those responsible, and slowly and surely draw his plans against them.
This is one of the best revenge novels I’ve read, and it’s particularly appropriate since it takes down the tyrannical regime which incarcerates a larger percentage of its population than any serious country and shows how a clever individual can always outwit the bumbling collectivist leviathan as long as he refuses to engage it on level terrain but always exploits agility against the saurian brain reaction time of the state.
The only goof I noticed is that on a flight from Puerto Rico to Atlanta, passengers are required to go through passport control. As this is a domestic flight from a U.S. territory to the U.S. mainland, no passport check should be required.
I wouldn’t call this a libertarian novel, as the author accepts the coercive structure of the state as a given, but it’s a delightful tale of somebody who has been wronged by that foul criminal enterprise obtaining pay-back by wit and guile.
7. PHIL IN MAGNOLIA reviews for The Racketeer
I have been looking forward to receiving Grisham’s latest since it was offered for pre-order earlier this past summer. When I received it just two days ago, I was ready and hopeful, and read it with few interruptions.
The story is entertaining and moves along quickly. The basic plot concerns an attorney, Malcolm Bannister, who is (according to him) unfairly incarcerated simply because he happened to pick the wrong client to represent, and in so doing he becomes swept up in a larger federal crackdown of his clients network of crimes.
Halfway through a ten-year stretch in a low-security prison, he is passing the time by taking care of the prison library and acting as an unofficial advocate for his fellow inmates, helping them where he can in filing appeals and providing other legal advice. While he is in prison, a federal judge is killed. Soon thereafter, Bannister contacts the FBI and tells them that he knows where they can find the judge’s killer. He’ll give them the information, for a price, of course – his freedom.
There is more to this than simply trading turning over a killer in order to obtain his own freedom. Bannister is also intent upon avenging his own wrongful conviction and making the FBI and the feds pay (so to speak) for the wrong that they had committed to him.
Well crafted and with a few good surprises and twists and turns, it has the trademark Grisham cleverness with Bannister’s irreverence contrasting nicely with the seriousness and lack of ingenuity on the part of the feds. In fact, the law enforcement types who are present in this story are barely flushed out and play minimal roles. The story is all focused on Bannister and his scheme to gain his freedom as well as secure his future (the ill-gotten gains that had motivated the judges death eventually clarify what Bannisters real motivation has been). And Bannister flying back and forth from the Carribean reminds me of The Firm , where Mitch (and later his wife) travel to the Cayman Islands to copy the documents that they hope will save them from the crooks of Bendini, Lambert & Locke.
Still, the Racketeer lacks the tension and suspense of The Firm, and it also does not have the surprise ending of The Summons . Grisham’s best novels have had complicated and interesting plots that involved rich characters who were stunning in their brazen disregard for the law and their ability to skim off vast sums of money in doing so – remember Max Pace in The King of Torts ? At this point is it unrealistic to expect each new Grisham novel to reach such a high bar?
Here, the story works well and it is an entertaining read. I suppose I consider it to be a 3 1/2 star overall, because it is enjoyable and well crafted. Not his best, just above average for John Grisham, but still better than most other writers these days.
8. RONALD H.CLARK reviews for The Racketeer
Though John Grisham consistently has improved as a novelist, and not just a legal novelist, in recent years, this latest book is somewhat reminiscent of some of his earlier work. As he has in some recent novels, Grisham uses this story to make some editorial comments about the criminal justice system. Like “The Confession,” he is extremely critical of the interview techniques utilized by the FBI, as well as the cost and futility of the “corrections” system found in federal prisons. Once again, his opposition to the death penalty emerges. He is right on the money (perhaps from his own previous period of defense practice) in focusing on the unlimited range of threats federal prosecutors can employ to encourage a “confession” if there is a lack of “cooperation”. In my opinion, he is also on target in disclosing how the FBI seeks to outmaneuver U.S. Attorneys through its extensive political influence within the Department of Justice in order to control, and not just support, federal prosecutors.
The structure of the book is surprising, because at times it seems like two separate books woven together by a skilled craftsman. The main story, which is quite engrossing, focuses upon someone who escapes federal prison by “ratting” on a former fellow inmate, leading to some unhappy folks seeking the ultimate revenge. Grisham has not lost his ability to absolutely grab and capture a reader–a skill evidenced in his first blockbuster novel, “The Firm,” which I (and many others) really could not put down. Here he sends shivers up your spine just with two sentences (on. pp. 161 and 275) that left me feeling like a needle had just been stuck in my eye.
Then suddenly, at page 209 or so, it is like we have jumped into another novel altogether–the central character’s efforts to manipulate and hoodwink a simple West Virginia bar owner as part of some manner of sting operation. In fact, the antics of the central character and his girl friend reminded me extremely of similar activities in the “Firm.” Eventually, 100 pages later, Grisham links up the two stories quite effectively, but the transition between the two parts of the story is not smooth and I found it somewhat confusing until I eventually caught on.
Hey, but what else can you say but that Grisham can really tell a legal tale, perhaps better than anyone. Suspense abounds (as do some legal errors) but I whipped through the 340 pages like I used to do when much younger and reading his early novels. This is a great read even if repetitive of some of his earlier work. Read and enjoy–I did!
9. MATT reviews for The Racketeer
Grisham returns with another sensational book, whose time on the NYT Bestseller’s list is no fluke. Filled with great plot, wonderful dialogue and detailed narration, the book pushes the legal genre to include jailhouse law and the skirting of it, in its many forms. Grisham, ever the masterful legal mind, as included angles with which I would have never associated ‘the law’ or legal writing, and does so in such a way that the reader can simple become an active observer in the journey. A little of everything in this grab bag of legal fiction, peppered with just the right amount of humour.
Taking the main character’s first person narrative in imbuing the African American male perspective is surely another of Grisham’s greater feats. While it could have been that the book was narrated by such a man that brought the character off the page, but the detail and thoroughly impressive cross-racial narrative construction was flawless, to me, a lowly Caucasian. I was so impressed with the story and Grisham’s sense of detail that I almost forgot who I was and what was going on.
Kudos, Mr. Grisham on a sensational piece of work!
10. DEACON TOM F reviews for The Racketeer
I have to admit that I am a very big Grisham fan. In spite of my bias, I was captivated by this book. Fast paced, cleverly characterized and intensely interesting.
A total winner!
The Racketeer was intense, fast-paced and well written. I missed sleep because I couldn’t put this novel down. From the presidential pardon to the tour of Italy, this book moved quickly
Of note,his characters were complex and evolved at the right pace.
The ending caught me by surprise. I loved it. Grisham strikes again!!
I highly recommended.
III. The Racketeer Quotes
The best book quotes from The Racketeer by John Grisham
“Malcolm Bannister, black, aged forty-three, convicted of a crime I had no knowledge of committing.”
“I have a plan, one I have been plotting for years now. It is my only way out.”
“Criminal intent is no longer required for many federal crimes. Lack of knowledge is no defense.”
“I guess under the right circumstances, a man will do just about anything.”
“How do you survive for years in prison? You don’t think about years, or months, or weeks. You think about today—how to get through it, how to survive it. When you wake up tomorrow, another day is behind you. The days add up; the weeks run together; the months become years. You realize how tough you are, how you can function and survive because you have no choice.”
“Perhaps in another era, a trial was an exercise in the presentation of facts, the search for truth, and the finding of justice. Now a trial is a contest in which one side will win and the other side will lose. Each side expects the other to bend the rules or to cheat, so neither side plays fair. The truth is lost in the melee.”
“forgotten by the world and by those you love”
“When you wake up tomorrow, another day is behind you. The days add up; the weeks run together; the months become years.”
“I was guilty all right. Guilty of stupidity for allowing myself to fall into such a mess.”
“In the United States we spend $40,000 a year to incarcerate each prison inmate and $8,000 to educate each elementary school student.”
“The Constitution names only three federal offenses: treason, piracy, and counterfeiting. Today there are over forty-five hundred federal crimes, and the number continues to grow as Congress gets tougher on crime and federal prosecutors become more creative in finding ways to apply all their new laws.”
“When I left home, Bo was six years old. He was our only child, but we were planning more. The math is easy, and I’ve done it a million times. He’ll be sixteen when I get out, a fully grown teenager, and I will have missed ten of the most precious years a father and son can have. Until they are about twelve years old, little boys worship their fathers and believe they can do no wrong. I coached Bo in T-ball and youth soccer, and he followed me around like a puppy. We fished and camped, and he sometimes went to my office with me on Saturday mornings, after a boys-only breakfast. He was my world, and trying to explain to him that I was going away for a long time broke both our hearts. Once behind bars, I refused to allow him to visit me. As much as I wanted to squeeze him, I could not stand the thought of that little boy seeing his father incarcerated.”
“After eight days in the sun of the Virgin Islands her skin was
brown enough and her hair was returning to its natural colour. She
walked miles up and down the beaches and ate nothing except
fish and fruit. She slept a lot the first few days.
She looked at her wrist and then remembered that her watch
was in a bag somewhere. She didn’t need it here. She woke with
the sun and went to bed after dark. But now she was waiting, so
she had looked at her wrist.
It was almost dark when the taxi stopped at the end of the small
road. He got out, paid the driver and looked at the lights as the car
disappeared back up the road. He had one bag. He could see a
light from the house between the trees at the edge of the beach,
and he walked towards it. He didn’t know what to expect. He
knew how he felt about her, but did she feel the same?
She was waiting at the back of the house, looking out to sea,
with a drink in her hand. She smiled at him, put down her drink
and let him come to her.
They kissed for a long minute. ‘You’re late,’ she said.”“He was a quiet man, not lonely and not shy, but cerebral and serious.”
“Years later he renovated a loft apartment that became his love nest, then his home. To him, the hammering, sawing, and sweating were therapy, a mental and physical escape from a job filled with stress.”
“right price they can produce college diplomas, birth certificates, marriage licenses, court orders, car titles, eviction notices, driver’s licenses, credit histories—there’s no limit to their mischief. Some of what they do is illegal and some is not. They brazenly advertise on the Internet, along with an astonishing number of competitors, but claim to be careful about whom they work for.”
“are dozens of different devices, all shapes and sizes, but most are attached with a strong magnet. Depending on the model, the battery can last for weeks, or the device can even be hot-wired to the car’s electrical system.”
“United States we spend $40,000 a year to incarcerate each prison inmate and $8,000 to educate each elementary school student. Here”
“the proliferation of the federal criminal code, now at twenty-seven thousand pages and counting.”
“The Constitution names only three federal offenses: treason, piracy, and counterfeiting.”
“of the top lid opens slowly. Mercifully, there is no dead baby inside. Far from it. Vanessa pauses to study the collection of small wooden cigar boxes all sealed with a band of silver duct tape and for the most part stacked in rows. Sweat is dripping from her eyebrows and she tries to swipe at it with a forearm. Carefully,”
“The real tragedy of the federal criminal system is not the absurdities. It is the ruined and wasted lives. Congress demands long, harsh sentences, and for the violent thugs these are appropriate. Hardened criminals are locked away in “U.S. Pens,” fortresses where gangs are rampant and murders are routine. But the majority of federal prisoners are nonviolent, and many are convicted of crimes that involved little, if any, criminal activity.”
“plan. You’ve got to explain to the judge or whoever that this is all a mistake. I’m”
“has a new father and a new life.” I cannot”
Excerpted from The Racketeer by John Grisham
Chapter 1 – The Racketeer
I am a lawyer, and I am in prison. It’s a long story.
I’m forty-three years old and halfway through a ten-year sentence handed down by a weak and sanctimonious federal judge in Washington, D.C. All of my appeals have run their course, and there is no procedure, mechanism, obscure statute, technicality, loophole, or Hail Mary left in my thoroughly depleted arsenal. I have nothing. Because I know the law, I could do what some inmates do and clog up the courts with stacks of worthless motions and writs and other junk filings, but none of this would help my cause. Nothing will help my cause. The reality is that I have no hope of getting out for five more years, save for a few lousy weeks chopped off at the end for good behavior, and my behavior has been exemplary.
I shouldn’t call myself a lawyer, because technically I am not. The Virginia State Bar swept in and yanked my license shortly after I was convicted. The language is right there in black and white–a felony conviction equals disbarment. I was stripped of my license, and my disciplinary troubles were duly reported in the Virginia Lawyer Register. Three of us were disbarred that month, which is about average.
However, in my little world, I am known as a jailhouse lawyer and as such spend several hours each day helping my fellow inmates with their legal problems. I study their appeals and file motions. I prepare simple wills and an occasional land deed. I review contracts for some of the white-collar guys. I have sued the government for legitimate complaints but never for ones I consider frivolous. And there are a lot of divorces.
Eight months and six days after I began my time, I received a thick envelope. Prisoners crave mail, but this was one package I could have done without. It was from a law firm in Fairfax, Virginia, one that represented my wife, who, surprisingly, wanted a divorce. In a matter of weeks, Dionne had gone from being a supportive wife, dug in for the long haul, to a fleeing victim who desperately wanted out. I couldn’t believe it. I read the papers in absolute shock, my knees rubbery and my eyes wet, and when I was afraid I might start crying, I hustled back to my cell for some privacy. There are a lot of tears in prison, but they are always hidden.
When I left home, Bo was six years old. He was our only child, but we were planning more. The math is easy, and I’ve done it a million times. He’ll be sixteen when I get out, a fully grown teenager, and I will have missed ten of the most precious years a father and son can have. Until they are about twelve years old, little boys worship their fathers and believe they can do no wrong. I coached Bo in T-ball and youth soccer, and he followed me around like a puppy. We fished and camped, and he sometimes went to my office with me on Saturday mornings, after a boys-only breakfast. He was my world, and trying to explain to him that I was going away for a long time broke both our hearts. Once behind bars, I refused to allow him to visit me. As much as I wanted to squeeze him, I could not stand the thought of that little boy seeing his father incarcerated.
It is virtually impossible to fight a divorce when you’re in prison and not getting out soon. Our assets, never much to begin with, were depleted after an eighteen-month pounding by the federal government. We had lost everything but our child and our commitment to each other. The child was a rock; the commitment bit the dust. Dionne made some beautiful promises about persevering and toughing it out, but once I was gone, reality set in. She felt lonely and isolated in our small town. “People see me and they whisper,” she wrote in one of her first letters. “I’m so lonely,” she whined in another. It wasn’t long before the letters became noticeably shorter and further apart. As did the visits.
Dionne grew up in Philadelphia and never warmed to life in the country. When an uncle offered her a job, she was suddenly in a hurry to go home. She remarried two years ago, and Bo, now eleven, is being coached by another father. My last twenty letters to my son went unanswered. I’m sure he never saw them.
I often wonder if I will see him again. I think I will make the effort, though I vacillate on this. How do you confront a child you love so much it hurts but who will not recognize you? We are never going to live together again as a typical father and son. Would it be fair to Bo to have his long-lost father reappear and insist on becoming part of his life?
I have far too much time to think about this.
I am inmate number 44861-127 at the Federal Prison Camp near Frostburg, Maryland. A “camp” is a low-security facility for those of us who are deemed nonviolent and sentenced to ten years or less. For reasons that were never made clear, my first twenty-two months were spent at a medium-security joint near Louisville, Kentucky. In the endless alphabet muck of bureau-speak, it is known as an FCI–Federal Correctional Institution–and it was a far different place than my camp at Frostburg. An FCI is for violent men sentenced to more than ten years. Life there is much tougher, though I survived without being physically assaulted. Being a former Marine helped immensely.
As far as prisons go, a camp is a resort. There are no walls, fences, razor wire, or lookout towers and only a few guards with guns. Frostburg is relatively new, and its facilities are nicer than most public high schools. And why not? In the United States we spend $40,000 a year to incarcerate each prison inmate and $8,000 to educate each elementary school student. Here we have counselors, managers, caseworkers, nurses, secretaries, assistants of many varieties, and dozens of administrators who would be hard-pressed to truthfully explain how they fill their eight hours each day. It is, after all, the federal government. The employee parking lot near the front entrance is packed with nice cars and trucks.
There are six hundred inmates here at Frostburg, and, with a few exceptions, we are a well-behaved group of men. Those with violent pasts have learned their lessons and appreciate their civilized surroundings. Those who’ve spent their lives in prison have finally found the best home. Many of these career boys do not want to leave. They are thoroughly institutionalized and cannot function on the outside. A warm bed, three meals a day, health care–how could they possibly top this out there on the streets?
I’m not implying this is a pleasant place. It is not. There are many men like me who never dreamed they would one day fall so hard. Men with professions, careers, businesses; men with assets and nice families and country-club memberships. In my White Gang there is Carl, an optometrist who tinkered too much with his Medicare billings; and Kermit, a land speculator who double and triple pledged the same properties to various banks; and Wesley, a former Pennsylvania state senator who took a bribe; and Mark, a small-town mortgage lender who cut some corners.
Carl, Kermit, Wesley, and Mark. All white, average age of fifty-one. All admit their guilt.
Then there’s me. Malcolm Bannister, black, aged forty-three, convicted of a crime I had no knowledge of committing.
At this moment, at Frostburg, I happen to be the only black guy serving time for a white-collar crime. Some distinction.
In my Black Gang, the membership is not so clearly defined. Most are kids from the streets of D.C. and Baltimore who were busted for drug-related crimes, and when they are paroled, they will return to the streets with a 20 percent chance of avoiding another conviction. With no education, no skills, and a criminal record, how are they supposed to succeed?
In reality, there are no gangs in a federal camp and no violence. If you fight or threaten someone, they’ll yank you out of here and send you to a place that’s far worse. There is a lot of bickering, mainly over the television, but I have yet to see someone throw a punch. Some of these guys have served time in state prisons, and the stories they tell are horrifying. No one wants to trade this place for another joint.
So we behave as we count the days. For the white-collar guys, the punishment is humiliation and the loss of status, standing, a lifestyle. For the black guys, life in a camp is safer than where they came from and where they’re going. Their punishment is another notch on their criminal records, another step in becoming career felons.
Because of this, I feel more white than black.
There are two other ex-lawyers here at Frostburg. Ron Napoli was a flamboyant criminal lawyer in Philadelphia for many years, until cocaine ruined him. He specialized in drug law and represented many of the top dealers and traffickers in the mid-Atlantic region, from New Jersey to the Carolinas. He preferred to get paid in cash and coke and eventually lost everything. The IRS nailed him for tax evasion, and he’s about halfway through a nine-year sentence. Ron’s not doing too well these days. He seems depressed and will not, under any circumstances, exercise and try to take care of himself. He’s getting heavier, slower, crankier, and sicker. He used to tell fascinating stories about his clients and their adventures in narco-trafficking, but now he just sits in the yard, eating bag after bag of Fritos and looking lost. Someone is sending him money, and he spends most of it on junk food.
The third ex-lawyer is a Washington shark named Amos Kapp, a longtime insider and shifty operator who spent a career slinking around the edges of every major political scandal. Kapp and I were tried together, convicted together, and sentenced ten years apiece by the same judge. There were eight defendants–seven from Washington and me. Kapp has always been guilty of something, and he was certainly guilty in the eyes of our jurors. Kapp, though, knew then and knows now that I had nothing to do with the conspiracy, but he was too much of a coward and a crook to say anything. Violence is strictly prohibited at Frostburg, but give me five minutes with Amos Kapp and his neck would be broken. He knows this, and I suspect he told the warden a long time ago. They keep him on the west campus, as far away from my pod as possible.
Of the three lawyers, I’m the only one willing to help other inmates with their legal problems. I enjoy the work. It’s challenging and keeps me busy. It also keeps my legal skills sharp, though I doubt if I have much of a future as a lawyer. I can apply for reinstatement to the bar when I’m out, but that can be an arduous procedure. The truth is I never made any money as a lawyer. I was a small-town practitioner, black on top of that, and few clients could pay a decent fee. There were dozens of other lawyers packed along Braddock Street scrambling for the same clients; the competition was rough. I’m not sure what I’ll do when this is over, but I have serious doubts about resuming a legal career.
I’ll be forty-eight, single, and in good health, hopefully.
Five years is an eternity. Every day I take a long walk, alone, on a dirt jogging trail that skirts the edges of the camp and follows the boundary, or the “line,” as it is known. Step over the line, and you’re considered an escapee. In spite of being the site of a prison, this is beautiful country with spectacular views. As I walk and gaze at the rolling hills in the distance, I fight the urge to just keep walking, to step over the line. There is no fence to stop me, no guard to yell my name. I could disappear into the dense woods, then disappear forever.
I wish there was a wall, one ten feet tall, made of solid brick, with coils of glistening razor wire along its top, one that would keep me from gazing at the hills and dreaming of freedom. This is a prison, damn it! We can’t leave. Put up a wall and stop tempting us.
The temptation is always there, and, as much as I fight it, I swear it’s getting stronger by the day.
Chapter 2 – The Racketeer
Frostburg is a few miles west of the town of Cumberland, Maryland, in the middle of a sliver of land that is dwarfed by Pennsylvania to the north and West Virginia to the west and south. Looking at a map, it is obvious this exiled part of the state was the result of a bad survey and shouldn’t belong to Maryland at all, though it’s not clear who should have ownership. I work in the library, and on the wall above my little desk is a large map of America. I spend too much time gazing at it, daydreaming, wondering how I came to be a federal prisoner in a remote part of far-western Maryland.
Sixty miles south of here is the town of Winchester, Virginia, population twenty-five thousand, the place of my birth, childhood, education, career, and, eventually, The Fall. I am told that little has changed there since I left. The law firm of Copeland & Reed is still doing business in the same storefront shop where I once worked. It’s on Braddock Street, in the Old Town, next door to a diner. The name, painted in black on the window, was once Copeland, Reed & Bannister, and it was the only all-black law firm within a hundred miles. I’m told that Mr. Copeland and Mr. Reed are doing well, certainly not prospering or getting rich, but generating enough business to pay their two secretaries and the rent. That’s about all we did when I was a partner there–just manage to scrape by. At the time of The Fall, I was having serious second thoughts about surviving in such a small town.
I am told that Mr. Copeland and Mr. Reed refuse to discuss me and my problems. They came within an inch of being indicted too, and their reputations were tarnished. The U.S. Attorney who nailed me was blasting buckshot at anyone remotely connected to his grand conspiracy, and he almost wiped out the entire firm. My crime was picking the wrong client. My two former partners have never committed a crime. On so many levels I regret what has happened, but the slander of their good names still keeps me awake. They are both in their late sixties, and in their younger days as lawyers they struggled not only with the challenge of keeping a small-town general practice afloat but also fought some of the last battles of the Jim Crow era. Judges sometimes ignored them in court and ruled against them for no sound legal reason. Other lawyers were often rude and unprofessional. The county bar association did not invite them to join. Clerks sometimes lost their filings. All-white juries did not believe them. Worst of all, clients did not hire them. Black clients. No white client would hire a black lawyer in the 1970s, in the South anyway, and this still hasn’t changed much. But Copeland & Reed nearly went under in its infancy because black folks thought the white lawyers were better. Hard work and a commitment to professionalism changed this, but slowly.
….
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