What must Corey Kemp think?

I mean, Prince Vince is convicted of 137 felony counts for conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and defrauding his own nonprofit and gets a little over four years. Kemp, our former city treasurer, was convicted of 27 felony counts for tax evasion, conspiracy, and extortion and gets 10 years.

Let me say it again: 10 years.

Kemp, 40, caught up in the federal-bug investigation during the John Street administration, has become the poster boy for unequal justice among prisoners in Philadelphia politics.

I could almost hear Kemp's heavy sigh through the telephone as he spoke from the Federal Medical Center in Devens, Mass., where he is grinding out Year Four of his sentence.

"I don't know [Fumo] personally. So all I can compare is the number of years in our convictions and the amount of money involved," Kemp says.

"It seems like a disparity. But I'm not trying to take a shot at him. I don't wish Fumo got more time than I got. I just wish I got less time than he got."

Even if he does 85 percent of his time - the minimum he must do, according to federal guidelines - he won't get out until almost 2014.

By then, he'll be 45 years old.

'Mental torture'

"The mental torture that you go through here is enough to humble anybody," Kemp says.

When he falls asleep, all he dreams about is being in prison, only to wake up and find he's living his own nightmare.

Kemp fills his days with reading and writing his untitled biography. He's worked as an orderly, dabbled in photography, and organized the prison's sports leagues, as befits the all-city basketball star he used to be at the High School of Engineering and Science.

Growing up in hardscrabble Strawberry Mansion, the son of a single mother who didn't know his own father, "I witnessed the drug game and killing, but I worked my behind off and made it. I vowed I would never go to prison and leave my kids like I saw other guys do . . ."

He couldn't finish the sentence.

A web of deceit

He oversaw billions of city dollars, though he didn't have authority to approve deals or send business anyone's way. But soon, Kemp found himself running fast and loose with some questionable associates, including influential rainmaker Ron White, an attorney investigators believe actively traded his business and political connections for money and perks.

"I always thought he was genuine," Kemp says of White, who died of pancreatic cancer before he could stand trial. "I don't have anything bad to say about him, but I walked in the middle of a web."

What follows is part of Kemp's rap sheet - the FBI bug investigation; $10,000 for a deck from a company seeking business with the city; an all-expenses-paid Super Bowl weekend with White, including transportation in a private jet, a free stay in a five-star San Diego hotel, a $1,000 steak dinner, and a limo ride to the game.

"The Super Bowl wasn't even worth it," he says wryly, taking a stab at gallows humor. "I left at halftime - would they have given me half the time? It turned out to be the worst trip of my life."

Sure, Kemp was convicted in pay-to-play, but compared with Fumo, it sure seems like he's the one who wound up getting played.

After all, Fumo was the guy who got 55 months and was allowed six weeks to "prepare" to report to jail. Kemp got 10 years and was taken out of the courtroom in handcuffs.

He seldom hears from his old friends. But he corresponds with new pen pals and tries to keep up with the lives of his wife and three children, ages 16, 12, and 8, who live near the Poconos.

"It's tough on them emotionally and financially, but they're still standing by my side. And I've been in prison long enough to know that's not a given," Kemp says.

He tries to keep idle time to a minimum, because "you start reliving your life again."

Still, he doesn't want anybody to look at him as a victim.

"Obviously, I had something to do with my situation," says Kemp, who still owes $300,000 in restitution and $10,000 in fines. "I was guilty of not knowing my limitations as a city official, but not enough to be put away for 10 years.

"I don't need 10 years to be rehabilitated. I'm rehabilitated now."

Read her work: http://go.philly.com/annette