“This man will be crippled for the rest of his life,” he told a recent group. “Just one little bullet can keep me up in the middle of the night, and it can change a life.”

The police-operated after-school recreation centers where these kids go after school every day to do homework, sports, arts and crafts, and other activities are open until as late as 9:30 p.m. As a PAL board member, Cornwell has adopted a large center in East Baltimore. When he arrives for his monthly visits, the boys materialize from every nook and cranny, as if drawn by a magnetic force.

Grinning from ear to ear, they high-five him. “What’s up doc?” they ask, on the way into Cornwell’s boys-only, 30-minute rap session where topics like the effects of drugs, alcohol and street violence are fair game. His particular passion is preteens, Cornwell says. “Working with them is most time-worthy because they’ve not yet been victims of violence.”

After the rap session, Cornwell heads to the gym where he plays basketball with the boys. It’s been a while since he played at Brown, but he can hold his own—even with this scrappy group of players. “That doctor, he got game!” the kids exclaim.

Officer Fred Allen, leader of the East Baltimore center, says Cornwell’s been a godsend. He’s broken down the stereotypes, Allen says. “Most chief surgeons are older white men. I want these kids to see that he’s like them, he’s African American. And even though he’s a doctor and has a certain status, he doesn’t just let them come to him; he comes into their world.”