Who are sex offenders?
Are they human?
Do they have civil rights?
Why don’t most people understand the impact of the sex offense registry on these citizens’ civil rights?
Most of all, why should I care?
“Every living thing could use a little mercy now,” to quote from Mary Gauthier’s title song, in her album, Mercy Now (2005, UMG Recordings). Those are words I reflect on when any person or group is derided in the media, or by the public, especially via social media’s viral mechanisms. That frenzied mode of communication leads to distortions, oversimplifications, or may be tied in with a string of conspiracy theories that belie an obvious and well-founded simpler truth.
I take up the matter of the sex offense registry, sex offenders, and their civil rights again. I’ve tried in the past. Examples are my novel, ANY JOE, and my numerous letters and emails to editors, legislators, large and small news services or media outlets (PBS and Carolina Public Press are examples). Most of the time there has been no acknowledgement. My hope has been to encourage investigation and discussion, to shed light on these issues, to attempt a real dialogue.
I’ve been reminded that sex offense laws, “sex offenders” and their civil rights are overwhelming, emotional and complicated issues, ones that are easier to avoid.
To return to the first and the last questions: Who are sex offenders, and why should I care?
These two distinct questions have ultimately the same response: You should care because the sex offender could be your brother, sister, mom, dad, cousin, and maybe even you. If you or any one you know stepped over the line at some point in time, and violated one of the myriad sexual offense laws, including misdemeanors, that are active on our federal, state, and local law books, you or that loved one may qualify. It’s more likely that you know someone who is a sex offender, by definition, but hasn’t been prosecuted. It’s less likely that the label belongs to a stranger lurking around the corner.
As for legal definitions, Cornell Law school also defines sex offender in simple terms: anyone who has committed a sexual offense https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/sex_offender.
The sign may as well welcome those who qualify, but aren’t registered. It would be more accurate.
Taking it a step in the direction of law enforcement, according to the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act of 2006, a sex offender is a person who has been convicted of a sex offense.
And a step further: a person on the sex offense registry has committed a crime and has been prosecuted, and convicted, resulting in the obligation to register with local law enforcement, where by proxy, he or she will be added to the state’s registry.
The following are examples of crimes that could be prosecuted, leading to inclusion on a particular state’s registry:
(1) a fifteen year old sexting a fourteen year old peer
(2) a Romeo-Juliet style romance in which the older eighteen year old boy has consensual sexual relations with his sixteen year old girlfriend
(3) the most violent, sordid and reprehensible: sexual assault or rape of a child.
U.S. sex offense registries include people of many ages, both minors and adults, male and female, numbering 904,000. There are many other crimes, not listed above, that would qualify as sex offenses, some in which a real person is physically involved, others largely through internet or other electronic communications. Every state sets its own laws.
More on: Why should I care?
The most prescient reason: Sex offense registries do not keep us safer. There’s a lot of research to back that up. Here’s one well-researched article: https://www.tampabay.com/opinion/2021/12/16/sex-offender-registry-laws-dont-work-heres-what-might-column/.
These ineffective registries are a drain on individuals, families and communities: Like others convicted for felonies, laws subject registrants to limitations on voting. But those on the registry also have restrictions on where they live, are subject to limited employment opportunities, and are often prohibited from using parks and libraries among other community resources, all potential healthy avenues and outlets for someone who wants to become a contributing member of the community.
These restrictive laws also create a huge stigma and a sense of isolation, not just for the registered person, but for their family. We all know that people who are homeless, jobless, ostracized, separated from friends and family, are a huge weight on society, the economy, and the health of our communities. In sum, sex offense registries make things worse, not better.
Why don’t more on the registry speak up for themselves, and why won’t legislators listen?
Some of our civil-rights oriented organizations like NARSOL, WAR, and ACSOL have challenged these laws. There are a variety of smaller, state-based organizations too. (North Carolina’s NCRSOL is one of them). Lawsuits have had limited success, though belonging to such an organization, as do some registrants and their families, helps to build moral and social support, and possibly access legal guidance or referral.
Registrants themselves may shy away from taking on the matter individually, though there are exceptions. It takes courage: registrants are already pariahs in the eyes of the public and most politicians. By the same token, they may wish to protect themselves and their family against public scrutiny and even vigilante violence.
Few news agencies devote time this issue, and few legislators are willing to put forth any proposal to reform laws. After all, those laws purport to protect children. They have their public image, their job, and, in the case of politicians, the next election to prepare for. Who wants to lose the next election by questioning laws that trample on the civil rights of a despised and misunderstood group of people? Many would believe that supporting civil rights for anyone labeled as a sex offender would be tantamount to condoning the most violent and vile of sexual crimes.
All those bothersome explanations aside, it’s a fact that registrants are denied the civil rights that other citizens enjoy, well after having served their time, even compared to those convicted of violent felonies such as murder.
If we want to approach this matter on both a human and honest level, we must accept a basic truth: anyone who has committed any kind of sexual crime is an actual human being, therefore in this country, they are protected by our civil rights laws, once legal obligations have been met.
I wonder about the lives of the humans I’ve met, read about, or seen on film, that have been affected by because they are listed on the registry. Here are some examples:
(1) As an RN working at a detox/rehab center, what happened to the substance using and freshly detoxed patient, ready for discharge, but whose name was on the registry? The policy of the institution was: discharge when stable and when safe disposition can be made. This man didn’t have a safe disposition. Family was estranged, and no shelter, no faith-based temporary refuge or treatment program would allow him entry, so after three months of lingering, the detox center could no longer keep him, and he was discharged to the woods. That happened in spite of diligent efforts of our social worker to find him temporary refuge.
(2) Will the police officers in Fairfax County, Virginia, continue to intercept private electronic communications between citizens without a warrant? (Read Bonnie Burkhardt’s 2020 book: Manufacturing-Criminals: Fourth Amendment Decay in the Electronic Age). Will those same police officers be allowed to impersonate a minor (through words or even using someone else’s photograph) during that interception? All this with the aim of finding a “potential” sex offender through an internet sting operation? https://ncrsol.org/2021/12/who-are-the-real-predators-in-online-sting-operations/
(3) Will the adolescent snap-chatting a peer be required to spend seventy years behind bars for an alleged sex offense, and have a life-long stay on the sex offense registry? https://ncrsol.org/2022/09/snapchatting-teenager-faces-up-to-70-years-for-sexting/
(4) Will the seventy-nine year old, bed-ridden and terminally ill sex offender be given the opportunity to die at home so that his family members can care for him, and stay by his side? Does he actually pose a danger to children in Shenandoah City, Texas? https://narsol.org/2022/12/city-council-says-no-narsol-says-yes/
(5) What about the young woman prosecuted as a sex offender as a teenager, featured in David Feige’s excellent 2016 documentary, Untouchable? https://www.untouchablefilm.com/ Did she ever get another opportunity to take her kids to the playground? Moreover, did she ever find a job that allowed her the ability to move forward in life and to support her children?
An overriding question is: Are there some human beings who are not worthy of forgiveness, of second chances, of understanding, or of being treated according to a morality that we hold high in raising our children, and in conducting our own lives? If that human being has shown that he or she can live safely among others, should that person be offered the opportunity to reenter the community?
In this season of grace and giving, it’s worthwhile for all of us to give pause, to ask ourselves: Is there a person or group of people you have trouble accepting? If you’re being honest, it’s likely that you do. It’s a human weakness that we all share. But, given that awareness, we can at least treat them kindly, politely, and fairly.
Beyond that, are there people who we mistreat or fear, based on assumptions we are making about their lives? If any of them are people on the registry, think again. Don’t assume the worst. Offer the gift of mercy, even if it’s just a thought or a prayer or a kind word.
As Mary Gauthier put it: “We stand in the balance, Dangle ‘tween hell and hallowed round, everyone of us could use some mercy now.”
That’s me and you and even those listed on the registry.