Attorney earns back law license after prison- Charlie Naselsky

What happens when losing your law license feels like losing your very soul?

When I sat down with Charlie Naselsky, I knew I was about to hear something extraordinary. Here was a man who had practiced law for decades, built a successful career, raised two children who became doctors and attorneys themselves, and then lost it all. But what struck me most wasn’t just that Charlie went to prison as a white-collar defendant. It was what he did next: the grueling, methodical process of earning back his law license from the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.

”I Made the Decision to Go Left Versus Right”

Charlie’s path to federal prison began with what he calls “neon signs” he chose to ignore. As a successful transactional attorney at a major firm, he found himself under scrutiny due to his associations with others under investigation. But as Charlie made crystal clear: “What I was found guilty of has nothing to do with anyone else. I just became the focus as a result of having attached with others whose conduct was independently evaluated.”

The decision to go to trial rather than plead guilty wasn’t just legal strategy, it was deeply personal. For Charlie, accepting a felony plea meant immediately surrendering his law license, which he described as giving up his very identity. “Giving up my law license was giving up who I was. I would basically crawl into a rock and there’s no reason for me to exist.”

But the gamble failed. After a three-day trial, the jury returned a guilty verdict in just a few hours. Instead of the typical process where defendants leave court and wait for their surrender date, Charlie was immediately remanded to federal detention. He went from practicing law the night before sentencing to maximum security lockup.

Finding Purpose Behind Bars and Beyond

What followed was 70 months in federal prison, but Charlie refused to waste that time. He established the same kind of routine that had defined his professional life, working warehouse jobs, eventually earning enough trust to become the facility driver. “It was very important to have responsibility and to be recognized to have responsibility,” he told me, describing how he drove officers around, made supply runs, even went to the airport on behalf of the Bureau of Prisons.

That discipline carried over to his release. About three years out, Charlie launched something remarkable: a peer-to-peer mentoring program integrated with the federal re-entry court system. Rather than having formerly incarcerated individuals meet only with probation officers, Charlie created a space where they could share struggles and successes with others who truly understood their experience.

The program flourished for several years, helping hundreds navigate re-entry challenges. It filled Charlie up as much as it helped others, giving him purpose while he contemplated an even bigger challenge.

The 80-Page Road Back to the Law

Charlie’s motion for readmission to the Pennsylvania bar reads like a legal treatise. Nearly 80 pages documenting every aspect of his rehabilitation, character witnesses, community service, and the peer mentoring work. It took three to four years from initial consultation to final decision.

“I approached the readmission process with the same Integrity whether they whether the board and the Supreme Court had that as part of its criteria and decision-making wasn’t relevant to me. What was relevant for me is that if I’m going to get this back it’s because I want it and I’ve earned it.”

When the Pennsylvania Supreme Court finally granted his motion, Charlie achieved something almost unheard of: formal judicial recognition of his rehabilitation. Unlike the vast majority of people who leave prison and spend the rest of their lives checking boxes on job applications, Charlie now carries legal certification that he has been restored.

Today, he practices law again, older, humbled, but with a perspective that can only come from losing everything and clawing it back through sheer determination. His story isn’t about gratitude for going to prison or finding silver linings in tragedy. It’s about accepting responsibility, doing the work, and never giving up on becoming the person you’re meant to be.