A drug dealer who was groomed by the FBI to become an informant when he was just 14 could be serving life behind bars for helping take corrupt cops and a mayor's brother-in-law down.

Richard Wershe Jr, also known as White Boy Rick, was given life without parole in 1988 for a non-violent drug crime when he was just 17.

The 46-year-old inmate, who was considered to be a drug kingpin by Detroit police, was tried under a draconian 'lifer' law which has since been abolished by the U.S. Supreme Court.

It means the father-of-three is eligible for parole but, even though he is believed to be a model prisoner, the parole board refuses to let him out.

Richard Wershe Jr (left now and right at 17), also known as White Boy Rick, was given life without parole in 1988 for a non-violent drug crime when he was just 17. He is still behind bars because the parole board refuses to let him out - even though he has been described as a model prisoner

He was a paid FBI informant who helped the authorities prosecute crooked police officers and Willie Valson, the brother-in-law of former Detroit mayor Coleman Young - actions which seem to have dented his chances of release.

In an interview with WDIV in February, he said it was his cooperation with cases against high-profile figures, including a former homicide cop and city councilman Gill Hill, which has stopped him being set free.

I embarrassed a lot of people. But all I did was what I was asked and all I did was tell the truth Wershe during an interview with Detroit's WDIV in February

He told the reporter: 'I embarrassed a lot of people. But all I did was what I was asked and all I did was tell the truth.

'I was asked to go out there and get information about some people that were involved in the drug trade, and their connections, and how the drugs were coming in.

'They got me involved in this. I was a kid. I made a poor decision. Should I be paying for it 27 years later? I don’t think so.'

In September, he lost his latest bid to have his sentence reduced, but his attorneys are still fighting and are set to take their argument to the Michigan Supreme Court - where he could be given time served.

But Wayne County prosecutors are vigorously fighting Wershe's re-sentencing, according to Informant America.

His legal team believe he has been wronged by the legal system and his family are constantly pushing for him to be freed. They have a Facebook group which keep supporters updated about developments in his case.

Long-time attorney Ralph Musilli told the Detroit News in September: 'How can you give up a man's life? We're talking about someone who went into prison at the age of 18 on a nonviolent crime. You can't let this guy stay in prison.'

FBI agent Gregg Schwartz, who investigated some of Detroit's drug rings and other corruption, said drug dealers and murderers have been freed while Wershe still languishes behind bars.

Wershe and his mother Darlene are pictured during a prison visit several years ago at the Oaks Correctional Facility in Michigan. She said she wants to spend some time with her son before she dies

A baby-faced Wershe was recruited as an informant by the FBI in 1984, mainly because his father had done the same, and he was trusted by a black family who were being investigated, the Daily Beast reported.

He came from a lower-middle class family. His parents had split in a bitter divorce and his sister was plagued by drug addition problems.

Richard Wershe Sr was a small-time arms dealer who made money on the side by selling information about neighborhood crooks and dealers to federal agents.

The elder Wershe ended up introducing his son to the informant business.

Wershe was a paid informant who helped the authorities prosecute crooked cops and the brother-in-law of former Detroit mayor Coleman Young (pictured) - actions which seem to have dented his chances of release

Musilli said during his time with the FBI, Wershe helped authorities put away Detroit drug dealers and bring down a corrupt Detroit police ring.

He was undercover while crack cocaine was taking over cities across America, replacing heroin as the illegal drug of choice.

The FBI's office in Detroit was keen to look into the dealings of the Curry Brothers. They were traffickers based in the city's east side, where Wershe lived with his father.

Johnny Curry, the leader of the racket, was married to Cathy Volsan, the attractive niece of the then Mayor Coleman Young, who had constantly been on the feds' radar.

Informants known as 'stool pigeons' like Wershe would help convict some of his most loyal allies during his reign.

Cathy Volsan's father Willie Volsan, the mayor's brother-in-law, had been a major player in illegal gambling, but moved on to heroin and crack cocaine when it flooded the streets.

Wershe remembers that, as an informant, he was living a luxurious life alongside drug kingpins that children his age couldn't dream of.

Over two years working for the FBI, Wershe said he was given approximately $30,000. He used the money to buy clothes, jewelry and even cars - even though he wasn't even old enough to drive

He remembers going to Las Vegas when he was just 15 with the Curry brothers. He was sent to watch the Marvin Hagler and Thomas Hearns fight, armed with money from the federal agents and fake identification.

He told WDIV: 'They wanted as much information as I could on a drug organization in Detroit. The government is the one that provided me with the fake ID.'

Documents obtained by the TV station list payments for Wershe's flight, room and spending money.

It was with his informant work on trips like this that meant the FBI was able to get permission for wiretaps and listening devices trained on Johnny Curry.

About a year after members of the gang inadvertently murdered a 13-year-old boy during a drive-by shooting, the federal agents and local cops on the task force stopped taking Wershe's phone calls, because they didn't need him.

He had dropped out of school to become an informant and little formal education. So he went back to what he knew - dealing drugs.

His connections from his time with the Curry family helped him get in touch and form a business relationsthip with Art Derrick, a trafficker in Miami who owned a small fleet of aircraft that could get the drugs to Detroit quickly.

Wershe stands with a painting he did in prison. It was sold at auction for a cancer charity

Darlene McCormick in the courtroom sits in a Detroit courtroom during a hearing about her son's prposed re-sentencing. The case is now moving to the Michigan Supreme Court

Wershe was not a street dealer, Musilli told the Detroit News, but sold cocaine at a wholesale level.

By this time Johnny Curry was in jail and his wife, Cathy, who was several years older than Wershe, boldly approached him and suggested they have a fling. She didn't know Wershe had been the one who put her husband in jail.

Mrs Volson was protected by the mayor's family and was warned every time she was close to being threatened by a police investigation.

In 1987, when Wershe was arrested, he had 9,000 grams of cocaine and $30,000 in cash on him.

By that time, the 17-year-old defendant in his own high-profile trial on drug charges was a father to two young daughters.

His youngest child, a son, would be born shortly after he was incarcerated.

While he was in prison, the FBI still asked for his help. They told Wershe to inform Cathy Volsan Curry one of his trusted 'connects' from Miami needed police protection.

The 'connect' was an undercover FBI agent posing as a big-time Miami drug dealer. She in turn introduced undercover FBI Agent Mike Castro, posing as Mike Diaz, to her father, Willie Volsan.

In turn, Volsan introduced the agent to various police officers willing to take bribes to provide protection for what they believed were drug and cash shipments through Detroit. One of these cops, Sgt. James Harris, was a member of Mayor Young's security detail.

Volsan, Harris, and nearly a dozen police officers were indicted and convicted. Harris and Volson were jailed for 19 years in 1993 for an operation designed to ensnare Mayor Young.

Inspector Gil Hill, an officer who worked with the curry family, was a major politician in Detroit at the time and had helped Volsan for a brief time.

When Volsan and the cops were indicted in the sting that was set up with Wershe's help, it had to be clear to Hill the FBI had been after him for five years as a result of Wershe's work as a paid confidential informant, according to The Daily Beast.

Wershe is pictured sitting (right) at a family event in the mid 1970s. He is with his late grandfather Ray Wershe and friend Dave Majkowski

For Mayor Coleman Young, a white FBI 'stool pigeon' sleeping with his niece that had sent his brother-in-law to prison, was seen as the ultimate betrayal.

Wershe had made the wrong enemies in Detroit politics.

In Hill and Young, Wershe had made enemies of two of the most powerful black politicians in Detroit.

For Wershe's parole review in 2003, the Wayne County prosecutor, Mike Duggan, sent a scathing letter to the Michigan Parole Board opposing his release

He reportedly accused Wershe of being a 'gang leader' and 'violent kingpin' who intimidated witnesses who 'just disappeared.'

It read: 'This is one inmate that needs to remain in prison for his entire life.'

But Vince Wade, an investigative reporter who has covered the case, asked for the letter through a Freedom of Information request, and the prosecutor's office said it didn't exist.

A change in the state's drug-sentencing law in 2002 made Wershe eligible for parole. He had one hearing, in 2003, and was denied.

Musilli said Wershe has even helped Florida authorities crack drug cases while locked up in that state in the early 2000s.

He made subsequent requests for hearings in 2007 and 2012, but was turned down. His next opportunity to request a hearing, which comes up every five years, is not until December 2017, according to the Detroit News.

Scott Burnstein, an author and true crime historian, has researched Wershe's case for years.

He told WDIV: 'I don't use the word tragedy or injustice lightly, but I use it emphatically when I'm talking about Rick Wershe,' Burnstein said. 'I honestly believe that this is the prostituting of our youth, and then just throwing them in a cage and throwing the key away.'

'I think it's a true tragedy… an injustice. A wrong needs to be righted,' Burnstein said.

The documentary is still in production and is set to be completed in the Fall.

It is being made by the same team behind Showtime's 'A Murder in the Park,' a film that helped free wrongfully-convicted prisoner, Alstory Simon.

You can watch the teaser here.