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So far, Mazor says, everyone's been sympathetic. She doesn't feel like she's branded with a scarlet S. But now she and her other Stanford friends are having to find jobs in one of the worst recessions in memory.
"It killed me to see these people who grew to be my family during my time here just all suffering like this," Mazor says.
Outside the front doors of 5150 Westheimer, no more water flows through the marble fountain bearing the ubiquitous Stanford eagle logo. Mazor used to give tours of the Stanford building, and she would of course point out the elegant fountain, but she'd also point out something obscure — a small carving in the stone edifice several yards beyond the fountain. Allen Stanford, supposedly a man with deep religious convictions, made sure this corner of the building would reflect his company's core values. Under a crucifix, in capital letters, are the words "These companies are dedicated to the glory of God."
Charles Hazlett, a top Miami investment broker, aired his fears about the company in 2003.
Mazor would like to believe that, somewhere deep down, that's true. She would like to believe that, for the sake of the employees who were turned out onto the street, Stanford will cooperate with authorities.
"I know in my heart, when I first met him, that he was an honorable man," Mazor says. "I just want him to be honorable now."
Craig Malisow contributed to this story.