Sitting between Santa Rosa's current and former police chiefs Wednesday, with trim black hair and a sharp suit, Michael Santos didn't look like someone who had been in federal prison a year and a half ago.
And that, he said, is the point.
Santos, who now lives in Petaluma, was sentenced to prison for cocaine trafficking more than 26 years ago. He says he committed then to emerging as a productive, law-abiding citizen who could help others avoid the path he went down.
"Re-entry for me began the day I was convicted," he said Wednesday at a policy meeting of the Santa Rosa Mayor's Gang Task Force, where he'd been invited to speak. Once released, "I wanted to be able to put on a suit and tie and have nobody know I've served time in prison."
Santos, 50, has become a highly sought-after speaker and educator on prison reform and inmate rehabilitation, lecturing in Bay Area classrooms and participating in local and national news shows. A program he developed in prison to help youth offenders and former inmates stay out of trouble is in use by 10 public agencies around the country, including law enforcement and schools.
The approach seeks to address what he says is a shortcoming in current efforts to keep people out of jail.
"We're not showing people a deliberate path to say, 'Hey, I don't have to be a norte? (gang member). I can be anything I want to be,'" he said. "The only difference for me is that I wanted it."
Khaalid Muttaqi, program manager for the task force, said Santos's message of personal transformation is well-aligned with the group's goal of preventing youths from joining gangs.
"Sometimes we think if we put (an at-risk) kid in a sports program or give him a job that will do trick and sometimes it does," he said. "But if they haven't made a mental shift - as Santos says, a new philosophy - they can get back into their old lifestyle."
Santos told the crowd of lawmakers, law enforcers and educators at Wednesday's meeting, "I was the kind of kid I suspect many of you are now working with."
He grew up in a stable home, the son of a hard-working Cuban father, but was not interested in school or books, he said. The powerful drug kingpin portrayed by Al Pacino in the movie "Scarface" was his idol.
Santos followed that notorious path right into prison. In 1987, at the age of 23, he was sentenced to 45 years after being convicted on more than 15 counts related to his involvement in a Miami-based cocaine distribution ring.
"It wasn't until I was convicted that I realized what a terrible mistake I made," he said. His father broke down in tears while visiting him. His wife later divorced him. The physical stress, he said, caused him to break out in boils.
While awaiting sentencing, facing the possibility of a life without parole, he started praying, asking for guidance. Not long after, he discovered a philosophy book. He jokes that he didn't know how to spell the word 'philosophy' then, but the book changed his life. It described how the Greek philosopher Socrates had accepted his imprisonment.
"I remember putting the book on my chest and saying, 'That's what I have to do. I have to find a way to reconcile with society,'" Santos said.
He created a three-part plan, which included educating himself, contributing to society and building a support network for when he was released. Sticking to that plan with rigid discipline, he earned both an undergraduate and master's degree while incarcerated.
He served his time in federal prisons around the country and wrote and published seven books about life behind bars. In 2003, nine years before his release, he married his second wife, Carole, who he'd known from high school.
"You've got two ways to go (in jail): You can join a gang, do the gang thing, or you can decide to use the time to change your life, get out and be something," said Lee Nobman, owner of Golden State Lumber, who met Santos at Lompoc Federal Prison while serving a 13-month term for tax evasion.
Nobman was released from prison before Santos but returned to visit him frequently. During one visit, Santos informed him that he wanted to work with prisoners when he got out.
"I looked at him and said, 'Are you out of your f-ing mind?'" Nobman said. But Santos stood by his plans, and Nobman has since become a believer.
Santos transitioned out of prison in August 2012 on the condition that he would spend an additional year in a San Francisco halfway house. He completed that stint in August 2013 and has been living with his wife in Petaluma ever since, in a home that Nobman helped him buy. He is scheduled to remain under the supervision of a federal probation officer until 2032.
He's up well before dawn and writes on his blog nearly every day.
He has exchanged the prison track for Petaluma's Shollenberger Park and has run more than 570 miles so far this year, according to the daily log he maintains.
There's no television in his home. When asked what he does for fun, he replies, "work."
"For me, relaxation is work," he said recently over coffee. "It's exciting, fulfilling, and I feel a great sense of urgency."
The sense of urgency is two-fold. First, he wants to build a career with which he can support himself. Getting out of prison in his late forties, even with about $100,00 in savings, mainly from book proceeds, doesn't give him much time to save for retirement, he said.
Then there's his work to lobby for reform of the criminal justice system, which he considers ripe for change.
Santos now teaches a class at San Francisco State University about the justice system. He's spoken with PBS News Hour and written numerous articles. Among the agencies that he said have licensed his "Straight A" program are the San Jose Mayor's Gang Prevention Task Force and the Orange County Department of Education. The program will reach about 10,000 people this year, he said.
In January, a new school operating out of Santa Clara County Juvenile Hall began using his program.
So far, the youths have responded with enthusiasm, said Angela Haick, who runs the school. They relate to Santos because he started out like so many of them, she said.
She remembered one boy, 14, who had been in and out of juvenile hall many times. The school had tried everything to reach the boy, but nothing worked.
Then the boy heard Santos tell his story. "He couldn't take his eyes off him," she said. "He just beamed."
(You can reach Staff Writer Jamie Hansen at 521-5205 or jamie.hansen@pressdemocrat.com. On Twitter at @JamieHansen.)
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