A convicted sex offender has no rights. To anything. Full stop.
The public has a right to know who is living in its communities. Parents have a right to know if a convicted child sex offender has moved into their neighbourhood. Schools and sports clubs should not have to rely solely on a closed government database to protect the children in their care.
As journalists, our job is to report the facts, not our feelings. That does not mean we don't have opinions. Believe me, we do. Most days, keeping those opinions out of reporting is not difficult, until a story lands on your desk that refuses to stay on the page. It follows you home and wakes you up at three in the morning.
Some years ago, I reported on a case in Barberton that is one of many that still haunts me. A baby girl had been repeatedly sexually abused by her teenage mother's boyfriend and the mother knew. Despite the abuse that had already been proven, the system still believed the little girl should spend weekends with her biological mother as part of a reunification process while remaining in foster care. What the foster mother did not know was that the abuser was out on parole. Then it happened again. When she collected the little girl after one of those weekend visits, she found severe bruising to the child's private parts.
Why, when overwhelming evidence shows a child has been abused, does the system continue trying to reunite that child with the very environment in which the abuse occurred? At what point do the rights of the child finally outweigh the rights of the criminal?
One person who refused to stop fighting was Astrid Christianson from Barberton Tourism. She worked tirelessly to protect that little girl and ensure her wellbeing remained the priority when it seemed the system had lost sight of what mattered most. As editor of the then Barberton Times, I met that precious child on numerous occasions and will never forget Christianson's determination to prevent anyone from taking her away from the foster mother.
Then, this week, on July 21, a father from Malmesbury was sentenced to life imprisonment after raping his three daughters over many years. As I read the words written by Western Cape police spokesperson Thembakazi Mpendukana, similar cases came flooding back. When I reached the final paragraphs of the SAPS statement, where the court ordered that the man's name be entered into South Africa's National Register for Sex Offenders, I once again found myself thinking about the fact that ordinary South Africans are not allowed to see it.
By law, the National Register for Sex Offenders is confidential. It serves as a screening tool for employers and organisations working with children and other vulnerable people, but members of the public cannot access it.
I do not believe every criminal's name should be plastered everywhere. My concern begins the day a convicted sex offender walks out of prison.
The public has a right to know who is living in its communities. Parents have a right to know if a convicted child sex offender has moved into their neighbourhood. Schools and sports clubs should not have to rely solely on a closed government database to protect the children in their care.
I am not someone who sees every issue in life in black and white. Most have shades of grey. People make mistakes, circumstances differ and justice requires balance. Rape is not one of those grey areas and once a court has convicted someone of rape or sexual abuse, my sympathy ends.
I understand the arguments about privacy, rehabilitation, reintegration into society and protection against vigilantism and those principles have their place, and I recognise that not everyone who commits a crime will commit another one, but this is not petty crime!
The United States has taken a different approach. Public sex offender registries allow communities to search for convicted offenders living in their area. The system is not without criticism and it certainly has flaws, but it is built on a principle I understand: giving potential victims greater protection takes precedence over preserving the anonymity of someone convicted of a sexual offence.
South Africa has chosen the opposite path. We keep the register, but exclude the public from it. Government has indicated that it is considering legislative changes to make the register more accessible, but for now the information remains confidential. Meanwhile, SAPS continues to record thousands of sexual offences every year. Those figures represent only the cases that are reported. They cannot tell us how many children remain silent because they are too frightened to speak, or because the offender is someone they know and trust.
When it comes to child sex offenders, society cannot afford to get it wrong.
If I have to choose between protecting the identity of a convicted child sex offender and giving parents every possible opportunity to protect their children once that person walks out of prison on parole, I will choose the children every single time. I trust only what I have witnessed as a journalist, and no amount of argument you can bring to the table will convince me otherwise.
The day a person chooses to rape or sexually abuse anyone, they forfeit the privilege of anonymity the moment they walk back into society. That anonymity should end the day before those prison gates open to let them walk out.
A convicted sex offender has no rights. To anything. Full stop.
Oᴘɪɴɪᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ Eᴅɪᴛᴏʀɪᴀʟ Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: Tʜᴇ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴs ᴇxᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs ᴀʀᴇ sᴏʟᴇʟʏ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀɪʟʏ ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪᴇᴡs ᴏꜰ ɪOʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Mᴇᴅɪᴀ (Pᴛʏ) Lᴛᴅ, Aꜰʀɪᴄᴀ IɴTᴏᴜᴄʜ Nᴇᴡs, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛs ᴀꜰꜰɪʟɪᴀᴛᴇs, ᴇ.ɢ.: Kᴀʀᴏᴏ Tɪᴍᴇs; Dᴇ Kᴀᴀᴘ Eᴄʜᴏ; Rɪᴠɪᴇʀ Rᴇᴋᴏʀᴅ; Tʜᴇ Tʀᴀᴠᴇʟ Tʜʀᴇᴀᴅ, Fʟɪᴘ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀʀᴋᴇᴛ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛs ᴀssᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇs.
Anchen Coetzee
Liz Thorne
Lynette Spencer
Mariana Balt
