Good Night, Valentine.

Dear (insert your name here):

If you're reading this, then I'm afraid I'm already gone. When you come home tonight to our house/apartment/your parents' basement, I won't be there to greet you. I hope you understand that it brings me no joy that this news reaches you on Valentine's Day, of all days. Truth is, I will look back on our year/month/week-long relationship with great fondness.

Unfortunately, the circumstances of our romance have taken a turn for the worse, and it's time for our relationship to end. It has been brought to my attention that I am going to have to spend some "time away." Twenty-seven months, to be exact. This development has caused me to do a lot of thinking, and I have realized with chagrin that things like "federal sentencing hearings" can be a lot like "relationships."

Much like you never laugh at my jokes anymore, judges just don't seem to have the same sense of humor about violations of Chapter 18 USCA 1461 that they used to. Furthermore, it disappoints me that lately you...and the Southern District Court of West Carolina...have casually mischaracterized my spirited personality as being "drunk in court."

Well, (insert your name again), I won't keep you. It is certainly my tradition around this time of February each year to take a look at my romantic relationships and determine where I can make some cuts. It is perhaps fate that this year, the end of our love affair corresponds with the start of my incarceration.

I do apologize that this news did not reach you before you sent me those flowers. They really are quite lovely. I hope we can still be friends and such.

Your (former) Valentine,
Unfortunate Lawyer

P.S. Please don't visit. I don't look good in orange. But your (filthy) letters and (naughty) pictures would be well-received.