A few days ago I got one of those quality postcards with a guy's picture, address and info letting you know a convicted sex offender lives in your neighborhood. Immediately my neighbors gravitated to me as I walked out of the house carrying my uniform and assorted corrections gear.
"Should we be afraid?"
"What can we do?"
"Was he in your jail, what did he do?"
Ok, here's the deal folks. You know as much as I do. I deal with thousands of prisoners a year. I have no idea where this guy committed his crime, was convicted or served time. He could be from out of state for all we know. All I can tell you is tell your kids to stay away from him, since the card says his victims were children and they were raped. Tell them he's a man who did bad things and run to a neighbor if he tries to talk to them. Tell them to find a police officer, a firefighter, a teacher or a trusted adult. I wish I could give you the answers, tell you to run him out of town, or do whatever it is you want to. I can't.
Sometimes being in public safety isn't all it's cracked up to be . . .
I did not die. Well, I am dead inside. Hear me whine! It's like "hear me roar!" but not as profound and it gets kind of annoying. The whine. I need to drop...
1 day ago