Safety of our children must come before a sex offender's civil rights

When bereaved parents speak about the death of their children, there is one phrase that unites them in their disparate grief - "if only". "If only we had kept him off school that day"; "if only we had collected her from the club, instead of letting her walk home." It is a lament made all the more poignant because it is born of the guilt they heap upon themselves.

For Margaret Ann Cummings, the "if only" is just as heart-wrenching, but it has broader repercussions because it relates to circumstances outwith her control.

"If only" she had known a convicted sex offender was living in her block of flats in Royston, in Glasgow, she could have protected her eight-year-old son, Mark. If only she had known Stuart Leggate had a history of abusing children, she could have made sure Mark knew to avoid him at all costs.

As it was, Mark was lured into Leggate's home, sexually assaulted, strangled and then dumped in the rubbish chute. It is little wonder then that Cummings wanted the government to pass a law that would give residents the right to be informed if someone on the sex offenders register had been housed in their midst.

She is, of course, not the first to demand a degree of disclosure. Sarah Payne spent years campaigning for similar legislation after her daughter Sara was murdered by convicted paedophile Roy Whiting in 2000.

Neither got exactly what they wanted, because of the fear that releasing information on sex offenders' whereabouts would encourage vigilantism and so breach the civil liberties of those involved. And those concerns are not without foundation: it is not so long since the infamous Mags Haney was taking the law into her own hands and "outing" alleged paedophiles in Stirling.

For a long time, I sympathised with the view expressed by the then Home Secretary, David Blunkett, that "we cannot open the register to people who do not know the difference between paedophile and paediatrician", a comment which referred to the daubing of the word "paedo" on the home of a respected woman doctor during one outbreak of hysteria in Wales.

The kind of lynch mob mentality that leads to doors being kicked in and missiles thrown benefits no-one: it is degrading for all involved and is more likely to drive the sex offender underground than solve the problem. And, although I understand the parents' motivation, I have always found demands for "Sara's law" or "Mark's law" vaguely distasteful: legislation that has profound social implications should not be framed on the basis of a single case, however tragic, and the use of a child's name to try to persuade the government otherwise smacks of emotional blackmail.

Recently, however, I have found myself rethinking my ideas on the treatment of sex offenders. Partly this is to do with having children myself. Although it shames me to admit it, I find it a lot harder to care about the civil liberties of those who prey on children when the very fact that these people exist mean my offspring are deprived of the right to walk home from school by themselves.

But it's also to do with living in a part of the south side of Glasgow where large, detached sandstone houses jostle with damp-ridden high-rises. As I pass the flats - which are teeming with people from myriad countries and social backgrounds - it occurs to me that it is very easy to expound liberal theories on human rights and the rehabilitation of sex offenders if you live in a leafy suburb, where children play in their own gardens (and where, in any case, convicted sex offenders are less likely to be housed).

It's less easy if you are forced to share corridors and lifts with people you know nothing about, and if, in order for your children to have any freedom at all, they have to be allowed out of your sight to play from time to time.

When you think of what life must be like in such places is it really so outrageous to suggest they should be told if a convicted sex offender is living nearby? The risk of vigilantism cannot be ignored, but, in the past such attacks have often been the result not of information on sex offenders, but the lack of it.

When communities have to rely on the rumour mill or tabloid newspapers for the names of suspected sex offenders in their midst, it creates a climate of fear and suspicion, and a sense that the rights of convicted sex offenders rank higher than their own. Is it too naive to hope that if residents were treated as if they too had civil rights, they might behave more responsibly?

It is this thorny issue, the balance of rights, that Professor George Irving has tried to address in his review of the management of sex offenders commissioned in the wake of Mark Cummings' death.

As a result of his report, the Scottish Executive last week announced police officers would be given the power to seek orders allowing them to force their way into the homes of paedophiles, and access their bank accounts and other personal details - but only if they persistently fail to co-operate with the authorities' attempts to monitor their behaviour.

On the subject of disclosure, Irving also tried to steer a middle course, suggesting that the identity and whereabouts of convicted sex offenders should be passed on to key individuals, such as landlords, employers and leisure centre managers, on the same three-strikes-and-you're-out basis.

The recommendation - which has also been endorsed by the Scottish Executive - is a brave attempt to reconcile society's conflicting duties to rehabilitate the guilty and protect the innocent, but has its limitations.

It hardly seems fair to place the burden of monitoring sex offenders on to the likes of leisure centre managers. And partial disclosure - with its potential for Chinese whispers - has the potential to generate the same tense atmosphere that has in the past provoked riots.

The distressing truth is that in any sizeable community there are likely to be paedophiles at large, and identifying those who have been found guilty in the past eight years would not eliminate the risk. Yet, despite this, and my deep-seated belief that the point of a justice system is not to punish, but to rehabilitate, I can't help concluding that protecting my children would be easier if their right to walk the streets in safety took precedence over the rights of one-time sex offenders to blanket anonymity.

Dani Garavelli
30 October 2005

http://news.scotsman.com/columnists.cfm?id=2167752005