When the authorities caught up with my financial shenanigans, I went on the run. But Christ caught up with me.
Richard D. Mangone with Peter K. Johnson
On
September 13, 2013, I sat alone on the bunk in my cell, eating a cold
egg sandwich at the federal correctional institution in Ray Brook, New
York, a medium-security prison in the High Peaks region of the
Adirondack Mountains near Lake Placid. It had been my home for 18 years.
I walked out of the prison ...
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