Preate also saw how little access prisoners had to tools and information that would help them become contributing members of society. The system, Preate concluded, only served to dehumanize and degrade convicts, so that they walked out of prison more bitter and hardened than when they'd arrived. Preate made a vow-to use what he learned to reform the system that he had helped create.

Shortly before his release, a group of African Americans prominent in the prison pecking order asked him to "cross the line" and eat dinner at their table. Such an invitation was unheard of. The prisoners asked Preate for help, saying, "You see the system is broken. If we say something, it's just poor blacks whining. You were one of those big shots; they'll listen to you."

When Preate returned to his hometown of Scranton, he began pushing prison reform with the same zeal he once used to prosecute defendants. He talked at schools, churches, and law enforcement symposiums. Using his access to some of Pennsylvania's most influential lawmakers, he argued that the criminal justice system stacks the deck against racial minorities and the poor.

"Who gets targeted for drug arrests?" asks Preate. "The drug sweeps are [in] the ghetto. Who gets the mandatory sentences? About 75 percent are thrown on the backs of people of color. And the poor people in the projects . . . get an ineffective lawyer or an overworked public defender. They go to jail-next case. No one wants to talk about . . . racism, but you have to deal with it if you want a system that fulfills the promise of this country."

Unless our approach changes, Preate predicts, America will be destroyed from within. "We know that the greatest preventer of crime is education," he says. "If we truly committed ourselves to education, we would have a much safer society." But that's not where the government is investing. Pennsylvania hasn't built a single new university in decades, notes Preate, but it has built 19 new prisons since 1984, has expanded one, and has another two in the works.

As for the death penalty he once championed, "we've seen it doesn't deter anybody," he says. One problem, says Preate, is that people who receive death sentences often do not receive effective legal counsel; more than 90 percent of those now on death row could not afford to hire their own attorneys. Another problem is racial inequity; nearly half of those on death row are black. But Preate has already brought about significant change. He was the principal drafter of a Pennsylvania bill, signed into law this summer, that mandates state-of-the-art DNA testing to assure that those who are serving time are indeed guilty. Preate also is promoting the idea of a center to teach lawyers how to defend suspects facing a possible death penalty sentence.