In Defense of a Friend

“Turn on Channel 3 News, now!” my wife shouted from upstairs. She sounded serious. I switched channels just in time to see our friend, Sam, being escorted by police into the Chatham County Jail. Sam was in handcuffs. He looked confused. A news reporter was saying, “The suspect, a Pittsboro attorney, was arrested earlier today at his home for a series of Internet sex crimes.” The reporter said that our friend, Sam was charged with sending child pornographic images over the Internet. The report went on to explain that Sam was arrested as part of an interstate sting operation conducted by Florida State Police.

My wife, Carol, came downstairs looking stunned. She said, “Can you believe this? This must be some kind of mistake.” I agreed. At that moment, the news report was unbelievable to me. I thought it was more plausible that the police had made a mistake and arrested the wrong person.

We had known Sam and his family for about five years. We were not close friends but certainly friendly acquaintances. Sam’s son played on a soccer team with our son and Sam had been the team manager. We traveled to many games across North Carolina and had spent a great deal of time on the sidelines with Sam and his ex-wife. On a several occasions Sam and I had killed time together in a sports bar waiting for soccer practice to end so we could pick up our sons.

I knew Sam as a conscientious and responsible parent. He attended almost every game and was very supportive of his son. My wife and I often discussed how well Sam and his ex-wife cooperated with each other. They appeared to have a better relationship than a lot of married people we knew.

The morning after the television news report we were shocked again. A newspaper account provided more detail about the charges against Sam.

“[The suspect] was arrested after soliciting who he thought was a 14-year-old boy, but in fact was an undercover Cyber Crime investigator. [The suspect], 49, approached the ‘child’ in an online chat room for young boys and chatted with him over the course of five months. During their communication, he sent numerous images of child and adult pornography to the boy. He also repeatedly stated his desire to travel to Jacksonville to engage in various sex acts with the boy, according to the arrest warrant. At the time of his arrest, [the suspect] admitted he was the person chatting with the ‘boy’ online.” Sam’s admission that he was the person chatting was enough to crack my denial. I realized that this was not a case of mistaken identity.

A few days later I took my son to soccer practice and saw Sam’s ex-wife surrounded by several soccer moms in the parking lot. She had the look of a person grieving a death in the family. She was explaining to her friends that the allegations were probably true. She said that Sam was a “very troubled person.” She kept repeating, “I do know that Sam has not engaged in inappropriate behavior with any of our children.” The soccer moms were offering support and asking how they could help. Most of the concern was related to the impact this event was having on Sam’s son.

The soccer dads were not focusing on the emotional needs of Sam's family. They were focused on expressions of outrage. They spoke about Sam as if they had always known he was a sex offender. A week ago, he had been a reasonably amiable member of the soccer dad group. His history with the group was now irrelevant. Suddenly he was a sex offender and nothing else. "Pretty sick, huh?" One guy said as I walked up. "I hope they throw away the key on him.” I was more interested in the soccer mom conversation and wandered back to join it.

I learned from Sam's ex-wife that he was likely to be held in the Chatham County Jail until he could be extradited to Florida. I asked her if she thought it would be okay if I wrote a letter to Sam. She said she thought Sam would appreciate it and directed me to the Chatham County Jail website to get the address.

The letter initiated my first (and probably only) pen pal relationship with someone incarcerated for a sex offense. The first few letters focused on circumstances in the present tense. I tried to keep Sam informed about the news of his son’s soccer team. He described to me what his life was like inside county jail. I made it clear in my letters that I was appalled by his criminal behavior. I also wrote, “Your experience has reminded me that even good people can commit very bad and illegal acts.”

Over the next few months Sam and I exchanged letters that became more interesting and revealing. He never denied nor made excuses for the behavior that lead to his arrest. He explained that he was gradually recognizing that he had “unresolved confusion” about sexuality for many years. He wrote that prior to his arrest he had been under a high level of personal stress. He described being deeply depressed and “addicted to the Internet.” He repeatedly expressed his recognition that he needed treatment.

After about a month in the Chatham County, Jail Sam was extradited to a jail in Jacksonville, Florida. Even though he had no prior criminal history, his bond was set at an amount that was impossible for him to meet. Posting the bond set by the court would have left him without with enough money for an adequate defense. So, he waited in the Duval County Detention Facility for another seven months.

During those seven months Sam hoped he would receive mental health treatment or, at least, a mental health evaluation. Unfortunately, no such evaluation was available. Sam wrote that no one he knew in jail had access to mental health services.

I mentioned this circumstance to an attorney in my neighborhood who taught at the UNC School of Law. He said, “A mental health evaluation probably wouldn’t make any difference because sex offenders don’t respond to treatment.” I thought the law professor’s certainty was strange, so later I searched “sex offender treatment and recidivism” on the Internet. I read numerous articles that contradicted the law professor. One was published in 2001 by the National Center for Sex Offender Management. It said, 

 

“Results [from a sample of 11,000 sex offenders] indicated that sex offenders who participated in relapse prevention treatment programs had a combined re-arrest rate of 7.2 percent, compared to 17.6 percent for untreated offenders. The overall re-arrest rate for treated sex offenders in this analysis was 13.2 percent.”

While waiting for seven months in Duval County Detention Facility Sam became more aware of some of the quirks in the justice system. For example, he wondered how the court determined who waited for justice inside a cell and who waited for it outside. He said he met one inmate who had physically assaulted a police officer and was released on $50,000 bond. Another man was charged with impregnating a sixteen-year-old relative ($150,000 bond). A male prostitute with AIDS was charged with a 3rd degree felony for having unprotected sex ($1,500 bond). Sam was charged with sending child pornographic images and other communications over the Internet and was held on five hundred-thousand-dollar bond.

In his letters Sam did not complain about being locked up. He just described his environment and his coping strategies. Sam’s attorney advised him “to stay positive” and Sam seemed to take the advice seriously. He focused much of his attention on helping other inmates. He learned the details of other inmates’ stories and wrote to me about them with deep empathy. He offered informal legal advice to those who requested his help. He also spent time playing checkers or staring out the window of his cell. He and his cell mate referred to their window as “the television that is always on the Weather Channel.”

After eight months of incarceration Sam’s attorney got the bail requirement reduced to $50,000. Sam was released in Jacksonville, Florida to continue waiting for the disposition of his case. The terms of his release required that he find a job and be closely supervised by an officer of the court. Sam quickly found a minimum wage job changing tires at a tire rim plant. After a few weeks, he changed jobs to work as a bagger at a super market.

While out on bail Sam finally was able to get mental health treatment. He met as often as he could with a psychologist who determined that Sam was suffering from severe depression and an obsessive-compulsive disorder. He was seen by a psychiatrist who prescribed Prozac. Sam took the medication and reported that it helped control the obsessive-compulsive part of his disorder. As part of the standard treatment protocol Sam’s psychiatrist conducted a clinical “risk assessment” to predict the likelihood that Sam would re-offend. Sam’s score on the assessment predicted that he was a “low risk” for future sex offenses.

After a complicated and lengthy negotiation Sam’s attorney presented what he considered to be the prosecutor’s “best offer.” The plea bargain would allow Sam to enter a guilty plea and accept a sentence of between 5 and 15 years in prison. Sam’s attorney pointed out that the eight months he had already served would apply to the sentence. He also argued that Sam’s clean criminal history and the positive psychiatric report on risk assessment could further mitigate the length of the sentence. In one of his letters Sam wrote, “There is a remote chance that the Judge could impose a 5-year sentence and suspend part of it. The balance between punishment and treatment is hers to assess.”

Sam seemed satisfied with his plea bargain and optimistic about the sentencing hearing. He asked me to consider writing a letter of support for his hearing. I was glad to write the letter and took the assignment seriously. I described my personal history with Sam and then ended the letter by saying, “I hope that you will recognize that Sam needs treatment and supervision more than he needs additional punishment.”

I have not heard from Sam since. Another friend of his who attended the sentencing hearing told me that the Judge appeared to ignore the mental health assessment and letters of support. The Judge sentenced Sam to the maximum of 15 years in prison and stated that, “I would have imposed a longer sentence if not bound by the plea agreement.” I am not a legal expert but I think Sam’s plea “bargain” was not a very good deal.

He was immediately escorted out of the court room and back into a cell. I learned that he was transferred to a state penitentiary somewhere in Florida, but I have not been able to locate him.

Sam’s sentence has added to my feelings of ambivalence about him and his situation. I continue to believe that he is a decent person who is guilty of a serious crime. I also believe that the price he is paying is out of proportion. Is it reasonable for people who commit sex crimes in cyberspace to receive harsher sentences than criminals whose comparable acts are committed in real space? Instead of long prison sentences for “low risk” sex offenders, wouldn’t communities be better off requiring the less expensive and more effective alternative of mandated mental health treatment and close supervision? Sam’s experience reinforces my opinion that the justice system is often less focused on protecting us from genuine threats and more focused on meeting our collective need for irrational revenge.


Note: I recently got Sam’s new address and mailed a copy of this article to him. He corrected a few details in the story. He and his lawyer are appealing his case. They are not appealing his guilt, just the length of his sentence.