The nervous man sits on the other side of my high computer desk talking with the deputy. He talks too loud. He talks too much, never finishing a sentence. He responds to the deputy’s questions and instructions with a quick "Oh, yes ma’am!" He has been out of prison only three days. Four weeks ago, I would have been curious. Today, I am trying to ignore him.

When my predecessor retired, the duty of registering sex offenders in our county became the responsibility of Terri, a commissioned law enforcement officer. Her private office is under construction so the files are still in my office. When the offenders come in, she brings them where the file cabinet is to fill out paperwork and take photographs. I make it a point to remain seated behind the wall of my desk and if I must walk past them, I never make eye contact. I’m not afraid; I just don’t want to see them.

Most offenders are very quiet. They are polite and on their best behavior. The most unsettling thing about them as a group is their failure to stand out in any way. They are old, young, scruffy, neat, well spoken, illiterate. So far, with the exception of a very young Hispanic man, they are Caucasian. I want them to look like monsters. I want them to have "bad guy" tattooed on their foreheads. Instead, they look like the guy next door, or in the supermarket, or two pews over in church.

The nervous man asks the deputy about the limitations his sex offender status places on him. He says the "boss" at the prison unit told him before he left ‘stay away from kids… don’t do anything to get sent back here…’ He says he wants to make sure he follows the rules. Terri tells him he has served his full ten years and, aside from coming in to re-register every three months, he is subject to no limitations on his activities. Terri goes back to filling out papers and the man begins to talk even faster. He talks as if a dam has burst inside him. He rambles in half-sentences, never completing a thought. He talks of being featured on a TV show about "America’s 10 Most Wanted." He tells of finding the skeletal remains of a policeman in the woods and now he talks of playing horseshoes with his dad. My heart is chilled when he speaks of telling the children in his neighborhood to stay out of the woods, that ‘there are bad people in the woods.’

Finally, the paperwork is done and his photograph is taken. Terri escorts him to the outer security door. Rockie, my office mate, has been standing out in the hall waiting for the nervous man to leave. As the three of us pause in the hall staring at the outer door, Rockie says what I am thinking, "That guy is sick!"

The deputy thumbs through the file folder in her hand. "He sexually assaulted two seven year old boys." Her shoulders sag forward a little and she looks down at her shoes. Quietly, she says, "He’s going to re-offend."

Copyright © 2006 Joy N. Vyoral, All Rights Reserved

Joy Vyoral