Mr. Robert Hamilton, Esq. should have known better than to dip into client funds at his white show law practice. However, a combination of hubris and arrogance rendered him unwilling to consider the consequences should his actions be noticed. Sadly, for the once-respected and distinguished member of the bar, he was unmasked as a fraud. His perfect life crumbled to pieces around his feet. In short order, he faced disbarment, bankruptcy, a humiliating trial during which all manner of sordid personal details were aired in public. His cheated clients and former legal associates reveled in his downfall. With no friends left, and unable to afford even the most incompetent private legal team, he grudgingly accepted help from the first year public defender assigned to his case. Mr. Hamilton tried to mount a valiant defense for himself, but the broken man arguing in the courtroom was little more than a shell of his former self. He looked haunted, aged, defeated. Missing his regular appointments with his upscale barber, he was poorly shaven and coiffed. With all his belongings confiscated and auctioned off for restitution, he dressed each day in a rumpled polyester blazer and pants, pityingly provided by his public defender. Compounding his humiliation were the white jail socks and orange clogs he was forced to wear, for he truly had no other option. Stumbling through the trial, he managed to do little more than stutter and dig himself deeper into a hole of guilt. And when, after just 30 minutes of deliberation, the jury handed down a guilty verdict, Mr. Robert Hamilton (formerly Esq.) collapsed in sobs. One almost felt a pang of sadness for the man, now a convicted felon set to serve the next twenty years in Federal Prison. He was 60, and a conviction likely meant a life sentence. However, at least in this case, justice was served. Perhaps next time, the rich and mighty would think twice before putting self interest and personal gain before ethical behavior. Certainly, Robert Hamilton’s conviction did give some other unscrupulous members of the legal world pause. The day after the trial, on the front page of the city’s newspaper of record, the last image of Robert Hamilton, Inmate 2276895, was published for all to see. If it weren’t for his silver shock of hair and a hint of aristocratic resolve on his face, he would have been indistinguishable from his from his shackeled fellow cons, identically jumpsuited, being herded into a prison transport van, and heading for their new lives.