Filler: Downside of offender registries

Lane Filler is a member of the Newsday editorial board.

We've fallen in love with the myth of "stranger danger." We imagine horrible acts perpetrated against ourselves or loved ones if we are not constantly vigilant against the evildoer lurking in the woods, the Walmart or two blocks over.

We may, of course, have horrible acts perpetrated against us or our loved ones, but rarely by strangers. It's members of our inner circle who are most likely to harm us, and we rarely protect against them. While we should be eyeing creepy Cousin Nestor, we expend time and energy guarding against reprobates we've never met who, statistically, aren't much threat to us.

That's how it is with the violent criminals registry that would be created by a bill passed by the New York State Senate Tuesday and in committee in the Assembly. The legislation comes after Brittany Passalacqua and her mother, Helen Buchel, were murdered in 2009 in Geneva, N.Y., by John Edward Brown. Brown was on parole, having served 2½ years for slamming his infant daughter against a wall.

In response to this heartbreaking double murder, legislators devised a law that would force released violent felons to register their address with the state, and create a database people could access to determine whether ex-cons have moved into their communities.

The plan apes Megan's Law, which created the sex offender registry, and it shares the same flaw, easily illustrated with a few more details about John Edward Brown.

Brittany Passalacqua and Helen Buchel aren't dead because Brown moved into their neighborhood while his violent past went undetected. They're dead because Brown became Buchel's boyfriend, lived with them, then killed them both.

The sex offenders registry is popular because it gives people a visible bogeyman to be concerned about. Want to protect the kids? Just check the Website.

But while Megan Kanka, the New Jersey girl for whom the law was named, was victimized and murdered by a stranger who moved into her neighborhood, studies show more than 90 percent of molested children are victimized by relatives, family friends, coaches, teachers and others in their inner circle. Few are assaulted by strangers.

So the energy we expend worrying about the sexually deviant random neighbor ought to be devoted to protecting our kids against Uncle Rick, the youth group leader or the wrestling coach. And as anyone who's worked the crime beat at a newspaper will tell you, above all else, watch out for mom's new boyfriend. Violent crime is the same. It happens far more between friends and lovers than strangers.

Even though these registries redirect our energy improperly, they might still make sense if it all stopped with the lists. But after the lists come the laws that say no one on the registry can live within 2,719 feet of a church, school or Chuck E. Cheese, which, on Long Island, means they'd have to live in hot air balloons.

It's important that schools and employers have the ability to do background checks on prospective employees, and even volunteers. Those checks have a specific purpose and focus, and the resources already exist to conduct them. It's also crucial that people take a hard look at anyone coming into their lives in a meaningful way, into their homes, into their families and into contact with their children. Criminal convictions are public information, and it's worth checking such people out.

But registries for sex offenders and violent felons? They invite hysteria, and by making us scrutinize strangers rather than the people who actually endanger us, they're harmful.