case for the fraud and my involvement in it. According to them, I was
the "mastermind" and they said I was "the next Jeffrey Skilling" (the
former CEO of the Enron Corporation). At the close, they offered me
a 10-year sentence and implied that if I didn't accept, I'd be looking at
life in prison. My attorney, who was then and is now a good friend,
did his best to convince me that they were just trying to intimidate
me. However, their tactics worked. I waited until I got back to my
rental car and completely broke down. At that point I thought my life
was over. I called my husband, sobbing.
But then, nothing happened. For the next 2 years, I had the threat of
criminal prosecution hanging over my head. However. I did my best to
live my life the best I could and be as happy as possible. My key cop-
ing mechanism continued to be my martinis at the end of the day.
On Aug. 22, 2012, I got "the call" from my attorney. He asked me
where I was. I had just left my apartment in Dana Point, Calif., and
was headed into work. He told me to pull over and then delivered the
news. The U.S. government had indicted me on 16 counts; when you
added up all the possible sentences associated with those charges,
they totaled more than 200 years. I was remarkably composed, as I
had been mentally preparing for that day for a long time. My attorney
informed me that several FBI agents, along with the local police, had
raided our home that morning in Palm Springs before sunrise. They
used ladders to scale the walls that surround the house. Of course, I
wasn't there. It was common knowledge that I commuted to Orange
County every Monday for my work, stayed in an apartment over there
during the week and returned home to Palm Springs on Friday. My
husband was quite surprised by the raid. He answered the door in his
underwear. The agents broke the door in and then interrogated, hand-
cuffed and threw my husband to the ground with a shotgun pointed at
his head. At first they thought he was me even though he told them
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