Posts Tagged ‘pedophiles’


I know this statement to be true from personal experience. The details aren’t important except suffice to say, if you value your life, don’t ever tickle me.

The interesting part of the above statement are the number of people, once learning of my loathing and aversion to being tickled, take it upon themselves to tickle me. I’ve had it happen so many times that I never tell anyone unless they try to tickle me. If they respect my wishes, no harm and no foul.

If they don’t, they usually try it again.

That is usually the last time I talk to them.

One person at work, years ago, came up behind me and poked me in the ribs. I jumped and swung around. He was a friend and was just doing that rather than tap me on the shoulder.

I told him I hated to be tickled and please not to do it ever again. He said he was sorry and that was that until about a week later.

He did it again, but this time, he laughed. Yeah, he thought it was funny and that I was being dramatic. I once again swung around but this time I was angry.

“Don’t do that!” I said. He smiled and apologized again. He said he forgot. Uh huh….

About 3 weeks later, he did it again, but this time when I turned around, I made a fist and used the full power of my arm and torso to slam it into his sternum.

The look on his face was priceless. I watched him try to breathe. I helped him to sit down in a chair and stood there and waited.

Once he could breathe, I leaned over and put my face up close to his and said “I warned you. You decided not to listen. If you ever do that to me again, I will bring you up on assault charges and the next time, you won’t be able to stand back up.”

I then went to HR and reported what had happened.

He quit a few weeks later.

Predators are patient and calculating. They take their time. They move in, slowly and intelligently. They are aware of everything around them and they know exactly what they are doing. I suppose some of them are bold, but maybe not all. I can’t say for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that it’s true.

It’s not natural for an adult to want to tickle and play with children exclusively. It’s not right that they always want the child around, to sit on their lap, to always be rough housing with them. This is about extremes. This is about just a bit too much interest in your child. Trust me, as a person who doesn’t have children, unless we’re closely related, I don’t want your kid around if we’re hanging out. Shit, I don’t even want my relative’s children around too long. I love kids and I love having them around, but not the entire time.

I was fortunate that my parents didn’t care for this particular adult very much, so my exposure to him was limited but the one time he was alone with me, he pulled that shit. The tickling was torture AND HE KNEW IT. He knew damn well why I started to cry and would…not…stop. The more hysterical I became, the more he tickled. He only stopped when someone walked in.

Years later, his crimes and perversions were found out. I recall hearing of his death and I smiled.

I am far from an alarmist. I don’t go looking for problems where there aren’t any but I do pay attention to those around me. When I see children, I always make sure they are OK and someone is with them. But I always look to make sure. I look at them for a moment.

Of all the women I worked with in jail, the greatest number had been abused/molested as children and young adults. Many got into drugs. I can’t say that the reason is solely the abuse, but I can say that many of them resorted to drugs to escape and ironically, many became prostitutes to earn the money for the drugs and because they were “taught” at a young age that their only value was to sexually please men. That’s a tough one to “let go” and “walk away from.”

No one has the right to touch me unless I tell them they can.

No one has the right to determine what my emotions should be.

No one has the right to decide how I should look, act, or dress.

My point of view is this:

If you violate my physical body, one of two things will happen:

1) I’ll lay you out and you won’t be able to get up.
2) I’ll die in the attempt.

There are no other options.

“You know I can’t do that. You’re not qualified to deal with registered sex offenders. Plus you told me you didn’t want them, so why this one?” he asked.

“Your Honor, this one isn’t a pedophile and I told you THAT was who I didn’t want,” I said. “He’s just a kid…”

The judge raised his hand and leaned back in his chair. We were in his chambers at the end of a very long day for both of us.

“Ms. Lewis, I assure you I know the details of his case.”

“Stop doing that,” I said.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Calling me Ms. Lewis. It makes me feel old. My name is Susan, so feel free to park all the PC crap with me and just talk to me,” I said.

He chuckled. “As you wish but only on one condition; you stop calling me ‘Your Honor,” he said and leaned forward. He was a nice man who had spent the last 15 years on the bench. He often saw the worst of people on a daily basis, but like many judges that I had met, he hadn’t given up hope. He kept trying to help people. He kept trying to find ways to uphold the law and maintain the humanity of it all.

He had a difficult job. I did not envy him.

“OK, fair enough. What should I call you then?”

“James,” he said.

“As in Bond?” I asked.

“Yes, just like him,” he said and laughed.

“OK, James, here’s the deal. I know you know the details of the case. So you know he’s just a kid and so was she. They had consensual sex but now he’s been convicted of rape, labeled as a sex offender and is now registered as one. This isn’t right….”

“It’s the law,” he said, sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The father cried rape and you know how it all turned out. He was over 18. She wasn’t. End of story,” he said.

This was bothering him but he wasn’t going to budge. He couldn’t. He had to uphold the law.

I did know how it all turned out, which was why I was in his chambers. I knew it was a hopeless battle, but I had promised the kid’s Dad that I would try. Maybe there was a way. The family was devastated. I knew them. They had run out of money fighting the case.

Justice should not depend on anyone’s pocket-book.

“The law is wrong,” I said more to myself than him.

“Then change it,” he snapped. “And until you do, you can’t have him. You can visit him, if you can get authorization, but he can’t be enrolled in your program and if you try, I guess I’ll see you back here, but for sentencing,” he said. A sly smile crossed his face.

“Would I have to wear the butt-ugly orange jumpsuits?” I asked.

“Yes and I’ll make sure you are cuffed,” he said and let out a belly laugh.

“That’s not funny,” I said.

“Yes it is. I swear it will just be a matter of time before you get brought up on charges for something. You just have to break the rules, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a matter of breaking rules or not. It was a matter of trying to do the right thing, regardless if it broke a rule or not.

I knew this meeting was a waste of his time and mine, but I couldn’t shake the idea that maybe if we just talked we could figure out something, anything, to fix what had happened. He was 18, she was 16 and it wasn’t rape. But the parents said it was and once they pressed charges, there was no stopping the machine. The trial had been a nightmare and he had been in jail for over a year awaiting trial. The girl protested the charges, but it didn’t matter. The DA took the case and ran with it.

I knew there wasn’t anything else to do. I felt a tear run down my face and it surprised me. I quickly wiped it away and hoped he hadn’t seen it.

He had. He leaned back and grabbed a tissue from the box of Kleenex on his credenza and handed it to me. I took it, wiped my eyes and stood up. I stuck out my hand to shake his. He came around his desk, shook my hand and gave me a gentle hug.

“Let me give you some advice, if I may,” he said.

I nodded my head. I was tired. I was fed-up.

“You’re in over your head on this, all of you. You and your friends are running in and out of Juvenile Hall. You’re getting people sent to you that you think you can help. I know your program works. None of the people I have sent to you have ever returned to my courtroom That’s why I keep sending them, but you can’t save everyone. Neither can I.”

“What’s your point, James?” I knew he was right but that didn’t mean I liked hearing it.

“Let this one go and work with who you can. You don’t get this one and even if you did, it won’t change a thing. He’s been sent away for a few years and nothing any of us say or do will ever change that. It’s done. Accept it.”

“I’m going to go home and have a drink. Or two, maybe,” I said as I picked-up my briefcase.

“Just don’t drive. Otherwise, I’ll be seeing you again, very soon. Keep your chin up kid.”

I thought about that for a moment as I walked towards the door. I turned around and looked at him.

“How do you keep your chin up?”

“I meet with hopelessly optimistic and somewhat wild women in my chambers from time to time,” he said and turned around and sat back down at his desk. He didn’t look up but I saw him smiling.

“Next time I’m here, wear the robe,” I said as I walked out and closed his door behind me.

I could hear his laughter as I walked down the hallway.

Defending pedophiles

Posted: November 4, 2012 in Uncategorized

This post is prompted by a previous one I did about having a pedophile accidentally included in a class I was teaching to men who had been convicted of domestic violence.

The blog was linked to Google Plus, as always, and I knew it could spark some interesting comments.

I noted that it was not graphic so as to not worry some of my readers.

What transpired that day was something that upset me tremendously, inspired me and made me so grateful for my friends, all at the same time.

Most responded well but along came the trolls. I have let the comments on Google Plus stand so others may see them and make their own decisions.

I was also hit very hard on my blog with comments I didn’t approve and then deleted. I was shocked by how many I got, asking me to back-off, sympathize with the pedophiles and telling me they can’t help it and don’t belong in jail.

Some tried to force me into defending the pedophile and attacked me for not allowing him to participate in my class.

Others wanted all the gory details of his crimes.

Another one told me I was unprofessional and condescending.

For all of those that came to my defense, I love you dearly. I never explain or defend my stories. They are MY stories and I post them for others to enjoy.

If you don’t like them, then don’t read them. It’s that simple.

I do not believe in tormenting, punishing or harming anyone but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who need to be removed from society as their actions are more harmful than good.

For those that attacked me and wanted details, you tipped your hand. I now know what is really on your mind. Thanks for that. Your names have been forwarded to the proper authorities.

As for those that talk to me and tell me their stories, rest assured I will never betray your trust or disclose anything you have told me. No matter how hard I may get hammered or badgered, I will never repeat what you have told me.

I know this is an ugly subject but the further I get into my writing, the closer this subject approaches. I don’t like it any better than you, but there are stories that need to be told and I have been entrusted with them and will do my best to give them the respect that they deserve.

If writing about it pisses some people off, I don’t care. Someone needs to speak for the silent survivors that contact me and want their stories told.

To all the trolls out there, I say this – bring it on. You ain’t got nothing I can’t handle.

To those that tell me their stories, I say this – as long as I can breathe, I will listen and keep your stories scared and in my heart. I will never betray your trust.