Editor's Note: You are about to read the words of a convicted felon. ­Until recently, Bill Lerach waged a one-man war on big business—he was the most feared class-action lawyer in America. He and his New York firm, Milberg Weiss, were a machine that made publicly held companies pay: Enron, Tyco, WorldCom, Martha Stewart Omnimedia and others, all taken on and, in many cases, taken down by Lerach and his partners on ­behalf of aggrieved shareholders. In the course of his war, he and his firm made a fortune. Then it all came ­crashing down. In March, ­Lerach pleaded guilty to charges that he made illegal payments to plaintiffs, who essentially were hand-picked to get suits against ­corporations rolling in ­exchange for kickbacks from Lerach and his team (his partner, Melvyn Weiss, faces similar charges).

In May, Lerach began ­serving his two-year prison ­sentence for conspiracy. In ­response, he has written a ­remarkable document, partly an attack on the corporations and government officials who brought him down, partly a ­finger-wagging indictment of the system that made him rich, and partly an attempt to rationalize what he did. (View an interactive feature detailing some of Bill Lerach's biggest windfalls.)

My Side of the Story
I am guilty. Because I committed acts that prosecutors and a judge decided were crimes, I’m on my way to a federal prison for 24 months.

As I go, I’d like to tell my side of the story. I pleaded guilty, so this is not an appeal for sympathy. I merely want to raise some questions that haven’t been addressed in the media and deserve a more nuanced discussion than is possible in the course of a criminal case.

First, some background. I specialized in securities class-action suits—cases brought on behalf of individual shareholders against powerful corporations. I was accused of participating in a conspiracy in which my former law firm, Milberg Weiss, gave some plaintiffs a portion of the fees we earned. While lawyers divide fees with other lawyers all the time, bar associations have deemed it unethical to split fees with nonlawyers. In addition, because false documents had been filed with the courts concerning those fees, prosecutors accused me of conspiring to make false statements—a federal crime.

Now, about the payments: Prior to 1995, paying plaintiffs wasn’t illegal under federal law. In fact, courts sometimes approved small "bonus" or "incentive" payments to plaintiffs. After the 1995 Private Securities Litigation Reform Act, however, these special payments were prohibited, and plaintiffs were required to submit sworn statements that they would not receive any.

In my plea agreement, prosecutors cited a single false declaration filed in late 1996 by someone who had been part of a paid-plaintiff arrangement. The plaintiff 's case was dismissed; there was no recovery and no legal fee, and the plaintiff received no money.

So why did I plead guilty? If you haven’t been a defendant in a federal criminal prosecution, let me tell you, it is not a fair fight. Prosecutors have virtually unlimited discretion to determine which charges to pursue. They structure indictments with multiple counts and money-laundering claims to threaten a defendant with huge financial penalties and the possibility of a long prison sentence. This creates draconian pressure to plead guilty.

The prosecutors hold all the cards. The judge holds the gavel, and from the defendant’s perspective, it might as well be a bazooka. The judge is free to ignore sentencing guidelines and impose an even harsher sentence. And because prosecutors and the judges both work for the government, there is a disturbing synergy in the entire process. Like a nonconformist during China’s Cultural Revolution, a defendant in a federal criminal case is forced to bow and humbly express guilt, regret, and contrition. You speak only to affirm your guilt and sorrow. If I hadn’t pleaded guilty, the judge could have sentenced me to seven years instead of the 24 months I now face.