Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. For some other takes on this picture prompt just click on the blue froggie below. My story begins after the picture.
“Five to ten.” That was the sentence he had received.
It seemed a bit harsh to him. He hadn’t murdered anyone or had done anything in the narcotics business. He was selling securities to people on their belief they could get rich just by listening to him. Things just seemed to escalate once he had a few clients and those clients referred other clients. And on it went.
“White Collar Crime,” the major newspapers called it. All he knew is that nobody knows why stocks go up or stocks go down. Once the stocks went up his job was to sell his suckers, er clients, on another deal with the same promises. They were getting rich on paper but each trade was pure cash for him. He viewed his job as taking money from their pocket and putting it in his. Simple.
The five to ten-year sentence in retrospect wasn’t that bad. Here at the minimum security camp offered some pretty fantastic benefits considering he was a convicted criminal.
Like today! It was family day at Brushwood State prison.