Too close for comfort Fear: How reassuring and informative the laws governing sex offenders are can depend on how near your home and children the person lives.

August 05, 1997|By Rob Hiaasen | Rob Hiaasen,SUN STAFF

Suspicion found company quickly as the scarlet letter made the rounds in a Timonium neighborhood this summer. Neighbors called neighbors to trade and confirm information.

Of course they know the man. He's a neighbor on Patann Street. But is it true?

"We have been notified that an offender has moved into your area. The below listed individual is a convicted child sexual offender," said the letter, sent by the Girl Scouts to 275 families in Timonium's 21903 ZIP code.

We have been notified that an offender has moved into your area.

"Eeek! I know this person. I knew this person was weird," says a neighbor of the 35-year-old man identified in the letter. The letter said he was convicted this year of a second-degree child sex offense.

"I'm trying not to assume the worst about him, but as a parent, I want to find out what happened," says the mother. Like other parents interviewed for this story, she spoke anonymously, fearing possible retaliation by the offender.

"It scares everybody," says a father who lives in the same neighborhood. Without knowing the details of the crime, a few neighbors have agreed to agree: "The children are not allowed to play outside alone. Everyone is on the alert," he says.

Patann Street runs behind Timonium Elementary School, where Kathy Volk was named principal this year. She keeps a file of such notifications, but never has an offender lived so close to her school.

"As a principal, this really worries me," Volk says. She plans on posting the sex offense notification in the school's office and will alert faculty and the PTA -- but not the students.

"I'm a little afraid to get the kids a little afraid," she says. "You have to walk a fine line."

'Megan's Law'

In little Timonium and in big communities across the country, residents are regularly being notified of the presence of sex offenders in their area.

"Megan's Law" -- named for Megan Kanka of New Jersey, a 7-year-old girl who was raped and murdered by a neighboring pedophile -- requires convicted child sex offenders to register with local law enforcement authorities. Maryland and some 45 other states have enacted more sweeping measures based on the law.

As of October 1995 in Maryland, child sexual offenders have been required to register with local law enforcement, which, in turn, has been allowed to notify area youth groups.

This isn't news. But it can be disturbing to receive a letter from, say, the Girl Scouts, informing parents a sex offender lives behind an elementary school in Timonium.

For the youth organizations, spreading this news is also disturbing.

"I wish it hadn't landed in our laps, but once it did, we had to make a decision," says Lisa Cid, executive director of the Girl Scouts of Central Maryland, which serves 24,000 girls. "If it saves one child from being molested, I guess it's worth it."

In the last six months, the Girl Scouts of Central Maryland have sent out 12 offender notifications. "We don't make any judgments," Cid says. "We let you use the information as you see fit."

Responses can be satisfying and unsettling. Cid says parents call to thank the organization for the information. One mother took her letter to Kinko's and ran off hundreds of copies. Other residents call to chide the Girl Scouts for identifying those who have paid their debt to society.

Generally, notifications are sent to people having the same ZIP code as the offender's. But some groups inform residents outside their immediate area too. A recent Falls Road Community Association newsletter, for example, informed its members that "a child sex offender now lives in Reisterstown."

The letter alerting Timonium residents lists basic information about the offender: name, address, date of offense and crime. No picture or place of employment is given. Law enforcement agencies and youth organizations realize the letters can raise more questions than they answer.

"It's unfortunate," says one neighbor. "You're given just enough information to be scared."

For parents, the questions start once the letter is opened. Now what? They get out a map and locate the offender's address. Is it near a school? His court case is public record; should we go to the courthouse and read the details?

Should we drive by his house? And then what?

For the Timonium mother whose children have met the registered offender, there's another question: "What do we tell our children?"

She knows this much: "I told my children to never go in his garage or house."

Reaction elsewhere

Since the offender registration law went into effect, parents in communities across the country have picketed offender's homes. Some have carried signs: A CHILD SEX OFFENDER LIVES HERE.

Oregon legislators passed a law this year requiring some sex offenders to post a scarlet "M" (for molester) in their windows.

In Orange County, Calif., public protests led to three offenders moving from their homes. In Michigan, an offender's house was ransacked. And in a New Jersey case, a man mistaken for a registered offender was beaten.

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