I phone my mom at home. No time for our "go to a casino" arrangement. "I’m in Raleigh, North Carolina," I tell her. "The FBI is outside the door. I don’t know where they’ll take me." We talk for a few minutes, each of us trying to reassure the other. She’s beside herself, really upset, distraught, knowing I’m headed back to jail. I tell her I love her and Gram, and to be strong, that eventually one day this whole thing will be behind us.