Preparing our children is parents' right

Three weeks ago, President Clinton came to town and my daughter and I went to see him. Getting in was no easy task. To get tickets, we had to supply identification and register our address.

At Xavier University, we were questioned by security staff, run through a metal detector, had our belongings examined.

Before the president walked into the room, security officials wanted to know who was there and what we had done. It seemed reasonable. He was vulnerable. We might have held high risk.

I recalled those events as the controversy grew surrounding Larry Don McQuay, the convicted child molester in Texas who has asked to be castrated.

Along with many Americans, I agonize over the conflicts raised by this issue. Privacy vs. open notification. Civil liberties vs. compelling public interest.

As a mother, I ask only the same right President Clinton's security staff asked at Xavier - the right to be prepared.

The world is already full of vague dangers against which I can only attempt to protect my daughter. That law enforcement officials could knowingly send a sexual predator into my unsuspecting neighborhood and tell state parole officers - who were never his victims - but not parents and children - who were his victims - is surely unjust.

I have talked to friends with children who say, ''It's the guy's own business. I've taught my children how to protect themselves, and I know where they are.''

Well, I have taught my daughter, too. And I know where she is as well. But there is a different level of preparedness when the danger is that much greater, closer and likely to occur. Living next door to a child molester is not the same as living next door to a guy who backs out of his garage too quickly.

Children of the 20th century already live on continuous low-alert to endless dangers. How far can we push this hyper-guardedness of children so that 24 hours a day, in the most innocent, backyard moment of their lives, they are on guard against an enemy who has every advantage? Especially anonymity.

The myth of the deranged, dirty old man may be the child molester's best protection. According to profiles from the FBI Academy and the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, sexual predators are expert manipulators. Three-fourths are younger than 35. About 80 percent are of normal intelligence or above. Many are model prisoners who do well in prison - where there are no children - but come out with little counseling and in high denial, then return to their criminal behavior.

According to studies by the state of Washington, recidivism rates range from 18 percent to 45 percent. The more violent the criminal, the more likely he is to repeat the crime. For many it is more than a criminal act. It is a compulsion.

It is utter foolishness, then, to propose that all of us routinely prepare our children for that level of vulnerability. People who live beside swimming pools take extra precautions against drowning. People who live beside busy streets take extra precautions with traffic safety. That's called being responsible.

It is only fair and sensible that people living beside a criminal who preys on children be allowed to forewarn their own.

The issue goes far beyond that of punishment and retribution, of ''doing one's time'' and ''paying one's debt.'' It is less about crime and more about sickness.

Larry Don McQuay's request, not only for castration but for public notification, tells us everything. Allowing a molester to move into a neighborhood of unknowing, unprepared children may be the worst thing not only for the children, but for the molester as well.

Thrusting him into an unsuspecting, vulnerable community is not the answer.

The state of Washington offers a better approach - a comprehensive, intelligent community notification law with different levels of notification based on different levels of risk. A first-time offender who committed a non-violent crime and went through extensive counseling may have to notify only the local police. A violent, three-time offender may have to notify the entire community.

It preserves privacy to the greatest extent possible. It gives families the one right they ask: the chance to be prepared.

Krista Ramsey's column appears in The Enquirer on Saturdays. Write her at 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati 45202 or fax at 768-8340.

Originally published April 13, 1996.