About Sam Mangel

Sam Mangel grew up in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1985 and spent the next four years living in Hong Kong, working for a family business. It was before the handover to China, when Hong Kong was still a British colony. He watched China open up, remembers crossing the border when McDonald's had just arrived and people saved for weeks to buy a hamburger. He calls it one of the best experiences of his life.

He came back to the States in 1989. In 1998, he got into life settlements, buying life insurance policies from seniors with defined mortality. Over the next decade, he built the largest brokerage in the industry, transacting billions of dollars a year. In 2011, he sold the company and retired to South Florida with his wife. They had been married for decades at that point, their kids were in college at George Washington University. He planned to spend his days cycling along the beach.

On April 18, 2016, at seven in the morning, there was a knock at the door. When Sam looked outside, he counted fifteen to seventeen people in blue windbreakers with FBI stenciled in yellow. They were carrying shotguns. His wife was in the shower. They pulled him out in handcuffs, drove him to West Palm Beach, and didn't tell him anything. His last words to his wife were "call an attorney."

The charges stemmed from the insurance company he had sold years earlier. Sam hired attorneys. He fought. He spent half a million dollars on legal fees. His attorney promised him probation. He went through two years of the federal criminal justice system, did his presentence interview, and showed up for sentencing expecting to go home that night.

The judge looked down at him and said he was no different than a vagrant on the street. Actually worse, given his background. The judge deviated from the guidelines and sentenced him to 60 months. Sam was remanded to custody immediately. He never spoke to his attorney again.

He spent six weeks at the Philadelphia Detention Center, sharing a cell with a young man who had two teardrop tattoos and was serving 30 years to life for fentanyl. Then came diesel therapy: two weeks on buses and in holding cells, moving from Petersburg to Atlanta to Tallahassee. Atlanta was the worst facility he had ever seen. He slept in a cell with an illegal immigrant who paced all night. His wife had no idea where he was. Finally, he arrived at the camp in Miami.

Sam spent 21 months at FCI Miami. He got into the RDAP program, which took a year off his sentence. He learned the system. He figured out how things actually worked, as opposed to what attorneys tell you. One morning, he was cycling on the old Schwinn bikes in the yard when the warden walked up and asked him for advice on a new bike. Sam helped him, and when he needed 12 months of halfway house instead of the six his case manager approved, he emailed the warden. He got his 12 months.

When he got out, his daughter asked him what he was going to do next. He said he was going to help people. She thought he was crazy. Why would he want to stay immersed in something so horrible? But Sam had watched inmates with charges worse than his get sentences half as long because they had consultants who knew the system. He had watched families fall apart because nobody explained what was coming. He knew he could make a difference.

Today, Sam has helped hundreds of clients prepare for federal prison. He has worked with some of the most high-profile defendants in the country. CNN and NPR call him when they need someone who can explain what actually happens inside. He is one of a handful of prison consultants with a Wikipedia page.

Sam has been married to his wife Candy for over 35 years. They have two children. He still cycles. And he still answers his phone on Saturday nights when a scared client needs to talk, because he remembers what it felt like to have nobody who understood.