MAN'S REFUSAL TO BE AN INFORMANT MAY KEEP HIM IN PRISON FOR LIFE

Reed Prior sits in prison for dealing methamphetamine. But he is in
prison for life, his family argues, because he refused to snitch.

"That is repugnant to me, and I can't do it," the Des Moines man said
at his sentencing.

U.S. District Judge Ronald E. Longstaff called the life sentence
unjust and begged Prior to assist in the investigation of others. That
was the only way the judge could reduce the mandatory "three strikes"
sentence.

But nearly three years later, Prior, 49, stays silent in a federal
prison in Greenville, Ill., where he will remain until he dies.

His parents, however, have begun to speak out. Prior's choice may seem
futile, even foolish, but they say his case illustrates a justice
system based not on what people do, but who they turn in.

"I neither condone nor excuse Reed for what he has done, but the cost
of his life is too great a penalty to pay for his addiction," said his
mother, Barbara Prior.

Iowa lawmakers may be headed in the same direction as the state fights
meth, critics say. Barbara Prior has expressed her concerns to Gov.
Tom Vilsack, who is supporting a 99-year term for those convicted of
making or selling meth to minors, and mandatory life for those
convicted twice. Defendants could get shorter terms if they give
prosecutors information on other dealers.

Several people have avoided life sentences in Iowa's federal courts
because they cooperated. The stiff sentences give dealers a huge
incentive to talk - or critics say, to lie.

Don Nickerson, U.S. attorney for Iowa's Southern District, agrees that
the use of informants is controversial, but it's also the law. "It"s
not a perfect world, but we do our darn best to prevent abuses."

Critics point to several cases around the country in which they say
high-level traffickers received big breaks for cooperating while
addicts like Prior were unfairly punished. In some cases, the minor
players say they were handed stiff sentences because they had no one
higher to turn in.

Prior hardly fits the stereotype of a drug dealer. His mother was
director of secondary education for Des Moines public schools and
continues to teach at Drake University. His father, Don, was football
coach at Roosevelt High School in Des Moines for more than 30 years,
retiring in 1982.

An Educated Man

Reed Prior has a master's degree in history and education from the
University of Iowa and was a successful computer entrepreneur until
drug abuse caught up with him. He has never been accused of committing
a violent crime, and until his last arrest in 1995, had spent no more
than a few hours in jail.

According to the federal sentencing guidelines, based on the amount of
drug involved, Prior would have received 14 to 17BD years in prison
for the last conviction. But he had pleaded guilty three times before
to drug felonies - mostly possession charges in Arizona, California
and Iowa - and that triggered a mandatory life sentence without parole.

At Prior's sentencing in April 1996, Longstaff said he wished that a
judge had given Prior prison time on one of his previous convictions.
He noted that while in jail on his last arrest, Prior was able to kick
his 27-year drug habit. "You would have been given more of a chance to
straighten out your life, because all of a sudden you come in here

having served no prior time in jail," he said. " . . . Unfortunately,
under the law, right or wrong, you're the only person right now that
holds the key to unlock the handcuffs that bind me right now."

A judge cannot impose a sentence below the mandatory minimum unless
the Justice Department requests it. The government has the power to
say when the drug offender has given "substantial assistance" in the
prosecution of another person.

Reducing sentences in exchange for testimony is an age-old method to
fight crime. But in the mid-1980s, Congress shifted some discretion
from judges to prosecutors.

The use of informants has helped officials break big cases. Last
month, for example, an informant in a federal drug case gave
information that led to an arrest in a six-year-old slaying in Des
Moines.

Jamie Bowers, who prosecutes drug cases in federal and Polk County
courts, said the law helps break down the wall of silence protecting
gang members. "It's been extremely successful. It's the best thing
that Congress has given us in the war on crime."

Last year, the Iowa Legislature gave prosecutors a similar tool,
cutting mandatory sentences for meth by as much as two-thirds if
defendants plead guilty and cooperate in the prosecution of others.
Bowers and others say it's too early to determine how the law is working.

The federal law is getting more scrutiny. A study last year by the
U.S. Sentencing Commission found inequality and inconsistency in the
way prosecutors grant leniency and how much time is shaved off
sentences. Some informants must testify to get breaks, but others
merely have to give prosecutors the name of a dealer.

"What will get you a substantial assistance motion in one district,
won't get you it in another," said Alan Chaset, a sentencing expert
with the National Association of Criminal Defense Attorneys.

Besides the disparity, critics are concerned that defendants will say
anything to avoid a long prison sentence. "It breeds an environment
where you're going to get bad information," said Bob Rigg, a defense
lawyer and a professor at Drake Law School.

Nickerson says his office carefully evaluates informants before
accepting their word. Judges and juries also can smell a skunk, he
said.

The goal of the federal laws was to equalize treatment, but it's had
the opposite effect, Rigg said. "It's gotten those lower on the totem
pole. They don't have anybody to give up. It's intended to get drug
kingpins, but that's not who you get."

That's not the case in Iowa, said Assistant U.S. Attorney Stephen
Patrick O'Meara. "I can say with certitude that in the cases I've
done, the lesser players have not gotten greater sentences than major
players," he said.

The exception, he said, occurs when defendants have previous criminal
histories, like Reed Prior.

Except for his last arrest - when he was caught with a little less
than 2 pounds of meth - Prior had never sold drugs for profit, he
testified, but only to supply his own habit. "There were times when I
would start out in a deal thinking I would make money, but time and
again, the addiction won out."

Prior pleaded guilty and signed an agreement that said he could get a
reduction if he cooperated with the government. He later tried to
withdraw his guilty plea, arguing that he was unable to make a
competent judgment because of his addiction to meth, Valium and
opiates. The court rejected the argument.

Lost Appeal

The Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals also ruled against Prior, and the
U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear his case.

It's not clear whether Prior could have led prosecutors to bigger
dealers. The U.S. attorney's office said only that it gave Prior every
opportunity to cooperate, and interviewed him a year after he was
sentenced to see whether he had changed his mind.

Prior told Longstaff he was not trying to protect anyone. "My
position, though, is I will not help the Department of Justice and the
DEA arrest any more people. It stops with me," he said.

Barbara Prior said her son can be arrogant, and to try to talk him out
of his protest would have been futile.

"The only thing I could have done is play on his sympathy, and I just
didn't do that," she said. "He's proud of his decision, and he's not
proud of very much else."

Mandatory Sentences

Seven Iowans have been sentenced to life in prison without parole for
their involvement in meth distribution.

Most led major drug organizations or trafficked in illegal weapons.
Reed Prior did neither, but he triggered the mandatory sentence
because of his previous drug felony convictions.

More judges have spoken out against mandatory minimum sentences. U.S.
Supreme Court justices Anthony Kennedy and David Souter have told
Congress that the laws take away their discretion and promote
injustice because blanket solutions cannot cover all cases.

Critics have also complained that mandatory sentences contribute to
prison crowding and increase costs. Taxpayers pay, on average, almost
$23,000 a year to incarcerate one prisoner.

Mandatory sentences trouble even some prosecutors. U.S. Attorney Don
Nickerson said he would like to see Congress reconsider drug
penalties. "It"s won"t happen until the public sees prevention and
treatment works," he said. Supporters argue that mandatory minimums prevent
judges from treating defendants differently. Critics say it hasn't worked
in practice, but that Congress finds the laws politically popular. "It's a
narcotic to
politicians. They become addicted to sentencing guidelines," said Bob
Rigg, a Drake University law professor. (http://ads.infi.net/tag?click)