Sentencing is scheduled for next week, but my lawyer says he may file a continuance if he doesn’t receive the evaluation from my therapist today. A part of me wishes I could postpone sentencing indefinitely. Another part wishes to skip sentencing entirely and go straight to prison and be done with it.

The last time I was in a courtroom was when I entered a guilty plea to the magistrate judge. My lawyer was late, and I had been left to sit alone at the back of the court to wait for him. The room had been filled with other defendants that day who were also entering pleas. Two Mexicans sat shackled together, dressed in orange jumpsuits, both charged with crossing the border illegally.

Sitting beside the district attorney, I recognized the FBI agent who had interviewed me the year before.

Finally, my lawyer arrived and the hearing began. One by one each defendant, including myself, was made to stand before the judge and answer a series of questions: What is your full name and date of birth? Do you fully understand the charges against you? Are you entering the plea of guilty freely and voluntarily?

After my plea was accepted, I was escorted to another area for processing. Before leaving the courtroom, I turned and made eye contact with the FBI agent.

Processing is where they “book you.” On a small stool I sat before a gray canvas backdrop to have my picture taken. Next, I was fingerprinted. Each finger and thumb was scanned separately by a machine, and then all four fingers of each hand were scanned together.

As frightening as it was, I expect sentencing will be far worse. My father and brother have committed to being there, though my mother is still undecided. The lawyer says the more people who show the better; a large turnout of support will impress the judge. But while part of me wants them there for support, I think I’d rather be left to face the humiliation alone.

I imagine when I walk into the courtroom there will stand beside the witness box an easel holding a poster-sized image of a boy being penetrated by a man. The district attorney will stand before my family and tell them that the defendant, their son, was found to have over 600 images in his possession, just like this one.