CZ detailed his experiences in U.S. prisons on a podcast; you can check it out. When you lose your freedom and health, you'll realize that money is no longer useful (link):
Just the process of entering prison is torturous; you have to strip down for a search, expose your buttocks, and be locked in a cell. My first roommate was a 'double murderer'. Yes, on my first day in the cell, I was assigned to someone who had killed two people.
In prison, no one cares who you are; they won't treat you specially just because you're CZ or wealthy. I was told I was under 'central supervision', meaning some upper-level unit would be monitoring me specifically, which is probably the only difference. But the guards and inmates in the prison basically have no idea who I am; they just follow procedures.
By rights, I belong to white-collar crime; even if guilty, I should be placed in a minimum security prison. But since I am not a U.S. citizen, even though I voluntarily flew over to assist in the investigation, I could only be assigned to a 'low security' prison. And there are murderers in this level of prison.
My roommate, his sentence is 30 years for committing two murders. Because he behaved well, after serving 12 years, he was transferred from medium security to low security, which is the lowest level he can reach. He can never be transferred to a minimum security prison. And I was assigned there as well. Additionally, Asians, Pacific Islanders, and Native Americans are categorized into one 'racial group', so I shared a cell with a Native American. Although I was very scared at first, we got along pretty well later.
The environment is really frightening. When you first enter the prison, there is registration, taking photos, changing clothes, and being searched before being taken into the cell block. The cell block is a three-story building with symmetrical cells facing each other across two hallways, housing about 240 inmates altogether. The moment you walk in, you see big guys with facial and head tattoos shouting loudly, which is very intimidating.
As soon as I walked in, I was assigned to cell number five on the first floor. I tried to open the door but couldn't. Seconds later, a big guy came over and said to me, 'The door doesn't open like that; you need to let a guard open it.' At that moment, I realized: everyone knew I was the 'newbie'. Actually, they could tell right away from my outfit.
The most tormenting part is the psychological pressure. I kept worrying they would make me serve more than the originally planned four months. In the U.S. prison system, this 'unexpected extension' is very common; they might suddenly add a new charge, turning it into 'California hotel mode': you can get in, but you can never get out.
If someone had told me at the beginning '100% guarantee you'll be released in four months', I could have accepted that. But reality is not like that; there are too many ups and downs in between. Even after being transferred to a 'halfway house' (a semi-open management for the last part of the sentence), I was eventually taken back by ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) in the last month and a half because they said my visa had expired.
But the problem is, they asked me to stay to handle legal matters, and we also applied for a visa extension. They forced me to stay in the U.S. while using my expired visa as a reason to lock me up in a detention center. Three days later, my lawyer helped me get the detention order revoked, but they didn't let me return to the halfway house. I will write more about this absurd series of experiences in my book.