Geoff Richstone

Not long after the tragedy of 9/11, I met Dr. Geoffrey Richstone at Fort Dix Federal Prison. Fate placed us in the same housing unit, and from the moment we began talking, I knew he was the kind of friend I valued most. Geoff was a cardiologist with over 20 years of experience, running a medical clinic in New York City’s iconic Upper East Side. His sophistication, intellect, and disciplined approach to life immediately set him apart. He became both a mentor and a close friend, someone I deeply admired.

By the time I met Geoff, I had been incarcerated for more than 15 years. Throughout those years, I developed a habit of seeking out mentors—people whose experiences, intellect, or character could inspire and guide me. Some mentors came from books, like Shakespeare, Dostoevsky, and Cicero. Others, like Geoff, were living examples of excellence. Geoff was a Columbia University graduate and a connoisseur of literature, particularly Shakespeare, and spending time with him felt like studying with a professor at an Ivy League university. We would walk together, and talk together for several hours each day. His insights into literature and life expanded my world. He also impressed me with his discipline in fitness and diet, qualities I strived to emulate. Together we discussed the stock market, and opportunities to grow wealth by understanding business.

Around the same time I met Geoff, I began my relationship with Carole. He was both intrigued and skeptical about how I could build and sustain a meaningful relationship while anticipating more than ten additional years in prison. Yet, he supported us in ways that left a lasting impact. Geoff was struggling with challenges in his medical practice, and he graciously offered Carole a job and a place to stay in New York City. Her move from Oregon to the East Coast meant we could visit regularly, a gift that made our relationship much stronger.

When authorities transferred me from Fort Dix to Colorado, Geoff and I maintained our friendship through letters. He proved his loyalty in ways that went beyond friendship. Knowing the challenges Carole and I faced, he extended a $20,000 loan to help her pursue her nursing education. Later, after my release, Geoff became a cornerstone of my early success. He believed in me enough to invest more than $1 million in my ventures, a contribution that accelerated my career in ways I could not have imagined. His support extended beyond finances—he was an advisor and a confidant, someone whose wisdom I relied on during pivotal moments. I visited him in New York several times each year to nurture our friendship and thank him for all he had done.

In 2020, during one of those visits, Geoff shared devastating news: he had been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. I was heartbroken. The man who had given me so much—his friendship, guidance, and resources—was facing a battle he could not win. We reorganized our business ventures so that I could repay his estate under favorable terms, but no financial arrangement could repay the profound influence he had on my life. Geoff was like a brother to me, and I still miss him very much. When my wife and I discovered a television show called Elementary, which is a story based on Sherlock Holmes, the lead character always brings back memories of Geoff. He was extremely witty, with a super power of deductive reasoning.

I often think about the lessons I learned from Geoff. His willingness to invest in me—both as a person and a professional—stemmed from the early preparations I made in prison. By focusing on self-improvement, education, and building credibility, he saw me as a worthy investment. Without those years of preparation, I doubt he would have seen me as the man he could trust so profoundly.

Geoff remains a shining example of the kind of friend we should all strive to be, and his legacy inspires me to invest in others with the same generosity and belief he showed me.

‍