America's prison system houses networks of violent criminals whose reach extends far beyond the bars. Michael Montgomery came face-to-face with the ex-leader of one such gang

In an old arrest photograph, Rene Enriquez stands defiantly, his criminal history stamped across his torso. One tattoo on his chest shouts for attention: a black hand, symbol of one of America?s most violent gangs, the Mexican Mafia.

I had seen this photograph prior to meeting Rene, so when we sit down in a conference room at Los Angeles County State Prison, my eyes are drawn to the tattoos creeping from under his prison garb.

His tattoos don't just document past crimes. They command an 'entitlement to violence' for others to fear: "You want to be able to walk into a room and have everybody take notice. They need to see that nothing will stop you," he says.

For nearly 20 years, nothing stopped Rene in his climb from street thug to leader of the Mexican Mafia. He killed men and ordered hits, ran elaborate drug rings and mobilised thousands of Latino street gang members for battle.

Remarkably, Rene committed many of these crimes while serving a life sentence in one of America's fearsome 'Supermax' prisons. The Mexican Mafia is one of the 'big five' prison gangs that have turned California?s criminal justice system on its head by operating with near-impunity from behind bars.

California runs America's largest prison system, with more than 160,000 inmates. For years, gangs controlled drug sales, extortion and other criminal networks in prisons. But, as prisons became packed, gangs grew larger and looked to the streets to boost power and profits.

California responded by confining gang leaders like Rene in isolation. For 13 years he was locked down, alone, in a windowless cell with only one hour of solitary exercise in a concrete pen. But, instead of 'breaking', Rene deepened his commitment to the gang. He learned complex secret codes, adopted the gang?s punishing exercise routine and plunged into study, reading hundreds of books on philosophy, leadership, modern corporations and military history.

"There's nothing they can do to stop us. They can't stop me from killing people on the streets. They can't stop me from communicating," he said.

But life in solitary took its toll. The gang descended into internal strife. Exhausted, the final straw, says Rene, was when some members proposed targeting rivals' families.

"That's when I knew it was time to leave," he reflects.
To get out of jail, Rene had to betray the gang's innermost secrets to authorities. His information was vital in prosecutions of top Mexican Mafia members, but put Rene on the gang's hitlist.

He now lives in a unit designed to protect gang defectors from retaliation. His hopes are focused on making parole, but redemption is daunting, given Rene's history.