Coming soon to your community: the sex offender next door

There are some people for whom it's really only possible to feel a theoretical kind of sympathy.

James William Conway is one of them.

The 40-year-old sexual predator is what one judge called a "disadvantaged offender"; exposed to alcohol in the womb and oxygen-starved at birth, he has borderline intellectual functioning; he grew up between 30 and 50 foster homes.

And yet, much as Conway was born into misery, he has inflicted a lifetime of pain onto others.

He was convicted of touching the buttocks of nine-year-old girls at a public swimming pool in 2005. He has a record for arson and theft. As a diagnosed pedophile, he has been assessed as a high-risk to re-offend.

Not surprising then that the succession of Lower Mainland communities where Conway has been slated to live haven't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon upon learning — through public warnings — of his arrival.

'This isn't good for him either'

Still, he's a human being. He exists; we have to do something with him. Something for him. 

That's largely left to the government agencies tasked with protecting the public from Conway — and protecting Conway from the public.

Judging from his latest reception in Mission, someone has dropped the ball.

Neighbours are fuming. Parents are alarmed about the proximity of his new home to a school. And District Mayor Randy Hawes is contemplating the same kind of zoning-related B.C. Supreme Court action which saw Conway bounced from Abbotsford last month.

Hawes blames B.C. Corrections, which is tasked with managing offenders in the community.

He says the case highlights the need for a mental health facility specifically dedicated to the handful of offenders like Conway whose cases hit the headlines with each dire notification. People, whose proven inability to change, turns their stints of limited freedom into a dangerous waiting game between prison sentences.

"They can be in very intensive programming and therapy that hopefully straightens them out, but then they're away from the public. The danger to the public is minimized, and I happen to believe that their life is a little better than sitting in a house where there's dozens of protesters standing a few feet away," Hawes says.

"This isn't good for him either."

Who exactly is responsible?

Because of his mental problems, Conway is housed by Community Living B.C. (CLBC), the Crown agency which funds services for adults with developmental disabilities.

They, in turn, contract a care provider called WJS Canada to look after him. And in Abbotsford, at least, WJS Canada subcontracted another individual to do the job.

But because of Conway's criminal history, B.C. Corrections also has a role to play, ensuring Conway abides by 25 court-ordered conditions which include staying away from parks, swimming areas and any site which offers activities for children.

As such, they say he's living under the highest degree of supervision: 24-hour house arrest, electronic supervision, and not leaving his residence at any time without prior approval and with an approved adult.

B.C. Corrections makes the decision to issue notifications about high-risk offenders. And Hawes says they told him they approved Conway's residence from a list of potential homes provided by CLBC.

But while the agency warned the public at large about Conway, his neighbours in both Abbotsford and Mission have complained bitterly that nobody told them specifically about the dangers of the new guy on the block.

'This is not meant to scare the public'

Nor is this a hypothetical concern.

In 2008, a court found B.C. Corrections partly responsible when a high-risk offender sexually assaulted a boy after moving into a suite in the child's home; the location was approved by the man's probation officer.

The province ultimately had to pay $135,000.

According to a paper called 'Best Practices to use when Housing High-Risk Offenders in the Community' that decision "prompted agencies to look at their current policies surrounding placement of high-risk offenders in order to determine their own levels of liability."

The paper features three cases studies, none of which exactly fit Conway's profile in terms of mental functioning. 

But the authors strike a chilling note on the impact of public notification, media attention and vigilantism on the prospects of safely releasing high-risk offenders.

"At times, the most dangerous people in the province are released homeless, un-medicated and without financial means," the paper says. 

"These barriers, compounded with lower optimism, loneliness and isolation can contribute to the likelihood for lack of success. This is not meant to scare the public."

Neither, presumably, are warnings like the one Vancouver police issued this week about the release on day parole of another high-profile prisoner, Larry John Takahashi, better known as the 'Balaclava Rapist'.

He's serving three life sentences for sexually assaulting dozens of women in Edmonton three decades ago, but is still considered at a moderate to high-risk to reoffend.

A 'principled position'

Like Conway, it's hard to muster up anything beyond revulsion for Takahashi.

According to probation documents, one victim spoke of the "never ending devastating impact" of the rapist's crimes. Another attempted suicide twice.

And yet another victim said she lost faith in a justice system that allowed Takahashi to plead guilty to just 14 of 70 charges. The charge involving her was stayed. The woman said she felt victimized twice, first by the plea bargain and then by a presiding judge who "commented on her sexual past."

But as John Howard Society head Catherine Latimer points out, we have a system which is built on the prospect of rehabilitation, and so we don't lock people up and throw away the key.

She isn't asking the public to embrace men like Conway or Takahashi. But she says high-profile parole should prompt more than just outrage.

"I think the right thing to do is to have an effective corrections regime which understands that people are going to be released at a certain point and works towards mitigating the risk, giving them options and giving them opportunities to do something other than participate in criminal activity," she says.

Latimer admits hers is a "principled position."

But how else to find mercy for the worst among us?