Branden Coluccio: Millionaire Before 30, Then Prison

“You have so much strength in you that you will surprise yourself. But those dark moments are not always instructive. You could cave. People do cave. It’s a choice.”

Branden Coluccio just became a dad. His daughter was born on a Thursday, and a few days later he was on my show telling me about selling a company for $67 million before turning 30, then watching everything crumble when a federal indictment landed with his name on it.

What struck me most wasn’t the money or the prison time. It was how Branden handled the crisis. He didn’t curl up and disappear. He wrote a book while awaiting sentencing. He found mentors who had been through it. He taught financial literacy to inmates. And he came out the other side with a clarity about himself that most people never find.

Growing Up Around Entrepreneurs

Branden’s family was full of small business owners. His grandparents owned restaurants. His dad was a high-end home builder. As a kid, he spent time sweeping floors and washing dishes at the family businesses. But what fascinated him most were the conversations at holiday dinners.

“Instead of sitting with the kids, I always wanted to be with the adults having these big boy conversations about their companies,” Branden told me.

He’d read about what other entrepreneurs were doing, then go back to his family and ask why they weren’t franchising or doing 200-unit developments. They’d tell him he was 13 years old and didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Fine,” he thought. “I’m gonna go build big businesses then.”

From Private Equity to $67 Million Exit

Branden battled his way into the private equity world without a Harvard degree or a 4.0 GPA. By 24, he was working directly under a managing director, cold calling CEOs about acquisitions and sitting in board meetings he had no business being in.

“I was a knucklehead,” he laughed. “Why did somebody let me in here?”

Then came the opportunity that changed everything. Two executives from the healthcare space approached his firm. They’d turned around a chain of substance abuse treatment facilities but couldn’t get equity from the owners. They were raising capital to start their own.

The deal fell through with the firm, but they called Branden directly. Help us raise the rest of the capital, they said, and you can be an equal partner. He was 26 years old.

It worked. Within 18 months, they had an offer for $45 million. They turned it down and took another offer for just under $67 million instead. The deal closed December 11, 2017. Branden was 29.

”Now I Can Finally Get Started”

When I asked what was going through his mind after that exit, Branden laughed. “I’m thinking, man, now I can finally get started. I got some walking around money to really build something.”

He co-founded Captiva Capital Partners, a real estate development company focused on Class A self-storage. They developed about $40 million in projects in their first year. He was buying other businesses, closing more deals, building an empire.

Then his lawyer called.

The government had decided to make an example of everyone involved in the healthcare company. Branden was the CFO. He was educated, articulate, intelligent. “You’re quite the trophy,” his lawyer told him.

The Identity Crisis

Before the indictment, Branden’s colleagues called him “boy wonder.” Private equity guys would introduce him as a future billionaire. He built his identity around being smart, successful, wealthy, capable.

“When all of that crumbled, I felt like I was nothing,” Branden said. “It happened just like that. In that moment, I went into my partner’s offices and I resigned. I relinquished all my equity. Deals that were in process got shut down. I went from going 100 miles an hour to a guy sitting on his couch feeling sorry for himself.”

He spent three weeks sulking. Drinking heavily. Out of shape. Asking why this was happening to him.

Then he made a choice.

“I can’t do this for the rest of my life,” he told himself. “I need a big objective. A big target. I’m going to take this awful event and find a way to apply that energy towards something good.”

Finding Mentors Who’d Been Through It

Branden found Justin Paperny and Michael Santos, two men who’d navigated the federal system and built careers helping others do the same. His wife initially thought he was crazy for reaching out to some guy he found on the internet.

“My biggest regret is that I waited so long to bring them in,” Branden said. “The value of having somebody speaking from experience to guide you through—I can’t overstate it.”

He started giving back immediately. Did a speaking engagement at a university. Wrote a book called “Looking Forward.” Created a self-directed course and licensed it to Prison Professors. His material was being disseminated to prisons and jails before he ever went away himself.

22 Days in Solitary

Branden surrendered to an FCI low security prison during COVID. Because of quarantine protocols, they sent him straight to the SHU—solitary confinement.

“Imagine you couldn’t get into elevators,” he told me. “I got anxiety attacks on airplanes. I didn’t like tight spaces. And now I’m locked in a cell alone.”

He was there for 22 days. No air conditioning in July. The window opened about an inch. They let him out maybe every two or three days for a 20-minute shower. He ate with his ID card because they didn’t give him utensils.

“I would think of guys like Michael who had gone through extended solitary,” Branden said. “I kept telling myself, if they can get through it and they’re alive and doing well today, I will get through this.”

He walked out of solitary thinking: I just did the hardest possible thing. Everything else is downhill from here.

Teaching Financial Literacy Inside

In the RDAP unit, Branden became a leader. Not through force or toughness, but through service. He hosted workshops on financial literacy, investments, and entrepreneurship.

“A lot of these guys had horrible, tragic stories,” he said. “They were taught to deal drugs at 10 years old. All they want is to be able to support their family. They don’t know how.”

He showed them the compound interest math. Explained that if they dedicated themselves to honest work and built a small business to six figures, they could become millionaires in their lifetime. Create generational wealth. Do it sustainably.

“When I would share that message and show them exactly that it was possible, a lot of guys resonated with it.”

White Collar Savage

Branden got out after about 11 months on a 37-month sentence—a combination of RDAP credit and good timing. Today he’s sober, in the best shape of his life, married with a new daughter, and living in a gorgeous home.

He works as an entrepreneurship coach for Inmates to Entrepreneurs, helping formerly incarcerated people start businesses for less than a thousand dollars. He also coaches through his personal brand, White Collar Savage, sharing content on fitness, mindset, and business.

“I didn’t know I was a teacher,” he said. “I didn’t know I made a good coach. I didn’t know I could lead people from a place of love. Through all this negativity, I found a deeper part of myself that I didn’t know existed.”

His biggest takeaway? “You have so much strength in you that you will surprise yourself. But it’s a choice. You can cave. People do. I chose to drop to the floor and do burpees. I chose to seek mentorship. I chose to serve other people first. Those are small but significant choices.”

You can find Branden at White Collar Savage on Instagram or check out his book “Looking Forward” on Amazon.