08/03/2011
By Michael Mayo
Offenders open up about guilt and shame, but still have to remain hidden
The designation immediately triggers fear, hysteria and hostility: sex offender. They bring backgrounds as varied as their crimes: a middle-aged professional who enjoyed flashing adult women, a Vietnam veteran in his 60s who molested young girls, a man in his 20s who suffered brain damage in a car wreck and forced a woman to have sex with him in return for a shopping spree.
Every week, they come to a South Florida counseling center to open up, to confront themselves and their pasts with brutal honesty. But because they are sex offenders, they have to do so clandestinely.
They are told to be inconspicuous, not to draw attention to themselves or loiter outside before the weekly group therapy sessions. The therapist doesn't want trouble with the community, even though the clinic is in an isolated strip mall.
"Ironic that the place we come to figure ourselves out, the place we're trying to get out of our secret life, we have to remain hidden," one offender said in a session last week.
This is the incongruity of life as a sex offender. In the outside world, they try to live under the radar, even though they must register with the state and their crimes trail them for life. When they get to the small room they consider a sanctuary, they can finally talk freely, sharing their thoughts, frustrations and shame.
"I have a hard time forgiving myself, even though it's been all this time," said one offender, who sexually abused his stepdaughter 25 years ago.
The Vietnam vet, who molested three girls in the 1980s, said, "I can't have contact with my victims, but I wonder, 'Did I screw them up for life?' "
After my recent columns about sex offenders and the strict residency restrictions that make it nearly impossible for them to live anywhere in South Florida, I was invited to sit in on two group therapy sessions last week, provided I didn't reveal identities of the offenders, therapist or clinic.
Here's what the offenders want you to know: Yes, they have done bad things, illegal things, deviant things. But they are still human beings, not animals or monsters. They want to make good choices, and have a chance at redemption. But faced with so many restrictions, they say it feels as though society just wants never-ending retribution.
"A friend of mine asked, 'How come a murderer or someone who sold drugs to kids can move right next to a school after they get out and we're not told, but it's totally different for you guys?' " said one offender, who had sex with several 14-year-old boys when he was in his early 20s. "I can understand wanting to protect kids, but it's very inconsistent."
As the father of a young girl, I'd rather some of these offenders not live anywhere near me. But they need to live somewhere, and they need some stability in order to hold jobs, rebuild their lives and be monitored by probation officers. So how does society strike the right balance?
Here's what the therapist wants the public to know: Treatment can be effective. "The belief is that sex offenders can't be helped and everybody re-offends, but that's just not true … A lot of people think therapy is coddling but we don't do that. We don't accept excuses. We stress accountability. We want them to understand the development of their behavior, and learn to manage it."
Nobody, not even the offenders, says pedophilia or other deviant thoughts can be "cured," but they say therapy gives them tools to change their patterns and cope with stresses that could lead to re-offending. Studies about sex-offender recidivism paint an unclear picture and are hotly disputed, but some recent long-term studies show re-offense rates in the 8-to-24 percent range.
Most of the 25 offenders at the sessions I attended were there by court order, paying $30 for the hour. Some had just been released from prison, and wore electronic monitoring devices. Others have "graduated" from the program — after giving presentations about what they've learned — and keep attending for free.
Nearly all had been abused — either sexually, physically or emotionally — when they were kids.
You don't have to have sympathy for what they did, but it helps having some empathy for what they face.
The man who sexually abused his stepdaughter spent 17 years in prison, and has been in treatment for nine years. "My offense was a long time ago and I've never re-offended," he said. When he returned to his apartment three months ago, he found an unflattering name scrawled on his door. He has since been evicted and is now homeless.
"I want people to know two things," said another offender, who has bi-polar disorder and molested a minor in 1997. "Treatment provides an arena, if you're honest with yourself, to change. And even though what I did 14 years ago was illegal and deviant, I am not my crime. I did a lot of good things in my life — I've been an advocate for mental illness — and I can do a lot of good things again."
