Originally published in the CT Mirror; reprinted here in full with the author’s permission.

By James Cornelio . . . I was born in Torrington in 1955, the son, one of four, of a successful small-town automobile dealer and a stay-at-home mom. After graduating from Cornell University in 1977, I moved to Manhattan, attended Fordham Law School and, upon graduation from Fordham, practiced real estate and private banking law in Manhattan for over 20 years. Upon my release from a New York prison in 2007, I moved back to Connecticut and, as the law required, registered as a sex offender.

Understanding the power of those two words, I have tried elsewhere to explore, as best I could, why and how those words have come to forever define who I am. Here, however, I’m going to explore the effect of those words not just on me but on the legal system which, trained as I was, I had come to respect.

On April 22, 2018, I was arresed in my home because of a warrant issued at the request of the sex offender registry unit of the Connecticut State Police (SORU) for failing to file an email address with them which, as a registered offender, Connecticut law also required. Notably, it was an email address which, though I hadn’t ‘filed’ with SORU, I had used multiple times over several years in communicating with them prior to their request for a warrant. So why did they nonetheless seek my arrest?

In part, because they could.

Thankfully, they no longer can, at least not for that crime.

On Sept. 14, 2023, a Federal District Court held in Cornelio v. CT, a case I initially brought pro se, that the Connecticut law requiring that registrants file their email addresses and all other “internet identifiers” with the police or risk being charged with a class “D” felony violates the First Amendment. Consequently, the court permanently enjoined the state from enforcing the law. Less thankfully, because I had not fashioned my case as a “class action” lawsuit, the court, notwithstanding our request to do so, refused to extend that First Amendment protection to any registrant in the state other than to me.

But given that the court itself acknowledged that “the reasons that the law is invalid as to Cornelio would appear to apply with equal force to all other sex offenders,” we fully expect that a class action lawsuit, to be filed as soon as resources allow, will extend the protection provided to me by my case to all other registrants in the state.

That law, it should be said, is duplicated in states across the country. Moreover, it is but one of many other laws which, of all those who have committed a crime and served their time, apply only to those of us who have committed a sex crime. In fact, it was SORU’s earlier enforcement of one of those other laws, and my reaction to that enforcement, which, most certainly, was the reason why SORU sought my arrest for my subsequent ‘email crime.’

Briefly, in July, 2015, I was arrested because I failed to confirm my home address within the 10-day statutory time period set forth in a Connecticut law requiring registrants to provide written confirmation thereof every three months or face a felony charge. Once the state prosecutor was convinced I would not ‘cop a plea’ to any charge because of my late mail, the case was dismissed. I then, in what was surely a first for them, brought my first pro se case by suing SORU in Federal Court for violating my Fourth Amendment right against unreasonable search and seizure.

In my court papers, I pointed out that SORU, in seeking my arrest, had not only ignored both their own (reasonable) protocol on late confirmation letters and the relevant law’s direction that they refer late letters to local police but, more pointedly, they had ignored that the presumptive purpose of the law was to assure a registrant hadn’t moved. I hadn’t. And they had no reason because of a late letter or otherwise to believe that I had. And if, for some reason, they were concerned that I had moved, there were far simpler and more effective, and far less punishing, ways of determining that risk to the public than by seeking my arrest.

Well, I learned that, per the statutory language adopted by Connecticut lawmakers and interpreted by the state’s highest court, it doesn’t matter whether one has moved or not. Nor does it matter whether the police have a reasonable suspicion that a registrant has moved. Nor even whether the late return of a confirmation letter was unintentional or otherwise excusable. No, under that law as interpreted by that court, a registrant can be arrested and be held strictly liable for a Class D felony simply because their mail is late. Think about it. The elements of this felony are established by two postmarks.

Suffice it to say, with reasonableness rendered irrelevant, my Fourth Amendment case was dismissed. Not long thereafter, I was arrested for my email crime.

I write this not to bemoan my fate but to shine a light on the fact that laws which were meant to protect the public have, with little significant push-back, been weaponized by lawmakers, the courts and those tasked with enforcing those laws. Beyond my personal experience are these other examples: here, strict residency requirements wreak havoc and hardship: or here, even visiting registrants must beware; or here, Halloween horrors abound; and then there’s this; and this; and this; and this; and … more.

Given all that, let me suggest that the reasoning by the Supreme Court in its 2003 decision in Smith v. Doe was, at best, naïve if not willfully blind to what cruelty it might unleash. In that seminal case, the court ruled that an Alaska law establishing a public registry and requiring convicted sex offenders, who have already served their court-imposed sentences, to thereafter routinely re-register on that public registry was merely “regulatory” and not punitive in nature. In effect, the court’s decision meant that judges and juries — that is, those familiar with the particulars of the who, what, when and where of the crime — need not even be aware of, let alone weigh in on, whether the defendant before them may become subject to those “regulatory” reporting requirements. Instead, as I personally experienced by being required to register for life, a sweeping, harshly crude, paint-by-numbers formula for determining one’s “risk” to the public is unilaterally imposed by those who write the laws — and who answer only to the voters.

Not only voters but any empathetic human being understands, and would seek to allay, the pain and abiding distress of those who have been sexually victimized and the fear of others, especially parents, about their own potential victimization or that of their children. But an uniformed belief that so-called “stranger danger” is widely prevalent and that but for public registries the recidivism of convicted sex offenders would be out-of-control have served to further inflame sexual fears already ignited by a competitive media seeking clicks and ambitious politicians seeking power, both more-than-ready to exploit those fears.

The result is a legal system which has gone well beyond the deeply unfortunate, if somewhat less punitively oppressive, Alaska law at issue in the Doe case to one which now embodies the modern equivalent of banishment for a whole class of citizens.

The post Life and occasional victory as a “sex offender” registrant first appeared on NARSOL.

Reprinted in full with permission; first published Octobrt 23 at the CT Mirror.

By Cindy Prizio . . . When I was a kid, Halloween was a night of freedom, fun, and candy. Our parents never accompanied us. We were neighborhood kids, and this was our community.

Years later, when I had a child of my own, some aspects of the holiday had changed. A parent always accompanied each group of kids. Neighborhoods were more spaced out and the danger from cars increased.

What didn’t change is the excitement my son felt — his costume carefully thought out and prepared. He eagerly waited for dusk and the festivities to begin. I loved hearing the sound of my son squeal with unadulterated glee as we went door to door with our family, including our dog and many others. On Halloween we were ALL family no matter our race, politics, or socioeconomics.

The moms would dress up as witches to greet us with hot cider. At one house a mummy propped up on a bench came alive when we rang the doorbell. This wasn’t some machine, but rather a real person scaring the wits out of us! Cul-de-sacs became block parties. Other adults in our neighborhood stood around bonfires, some enjoying Devil’s Grog or maybe a stogie. The night was a celebration!

As a mother in her 60s who has lived in Connecticut nearly my entire life, I have experienced Halloween as a child, parent, and neighbor. Over that time, I have seen Halloween change from my favorite holiday to another sad example of community fear and division. In the past there were so many children we ran out of candy and had to resort to giving out quarters and apples. As the years went by, we began to have a lot of candy left over at the end of the night. Only a few older teens were trick-or-treating at our house. Eventually, we stopped needing candy altogether; children don’t come to our door anymore.

What’s changed? For one thing, I have! As executive director of a statewide non-profit that speaks out against the injustice of marginalized people, I see up close the societal and human cost of irrational fear and how it erodes the strength of our communities. Such fears lead to public policies that are destructive and ineffective, costing precious taxpayer resources and doing more harm than good.

Urban legends abound during Halloween. Some are harmless, but others cause extreme reactions from parents to imaginary dangers. In 1970, the New York Times published an article claiming Halloween goodies could bring “more horror than happiness.” It spread fears of candy-tampering that were fueled by the era’s social upheaval and the sense that neighbors could no longer be trusted. The resulting rumor panic ended homemade Halloween treats for children and led to “safe” spaces at trunk-or-treat events or the malls.

Yet researchers have found zero instances of a stranger killing or seriously injuring a child with Halloween candy, and the Times itself has admitted its mistake.  However, other media outlets continue to spread this myth because it “sells papers,” (or drives clicks) which creates more fear, which leads to more mythical stories, which sells more papers.

For the past few decades, the media has focused on another boogeyman in our neighborhoods: the person who has been convicted of a sexual crime (more egregiously known as a “sex offender”). Journalists who create sensationalized stories direct parents to the online Sex Offense Registry. The product-research site Chamber of Commerce erroneously ranks towns on Halloween safety in part based on the number of individuals convicted of sexual offenses living there, despite the fact that the Registry website itself states that being on the Registry is not an indicator of dangerousness.

The research has shown that children are at no higher risk of being sexually harmed on Halloween than any other day. The vast majority of sexual offenses against children are by other children or trusted adults in their social proximity. Additionally, more than 95% of sexual crime is by people who are not on the registry.

For the fathers and mothers who are on the Sex Offense Registry, or have a loved one on the Registry living with them, Halloween is a time to be in your home with lights off and absolutely no exterior decorations. Parents and grandparents on the Registry often have children who would otherwise be trick-or-treating with them. Their children don’t get to participate with the entire family on Halloween. Why are these children being punished?

Much as with the persecution of witches, today’s myths cause suffering based on nothing more than feelings of fear and hate. The fear of strangers continues today in mythical poisoned candy, the boogeyman of the “sex offender,” and other false beliefs. Only time will tell who the next group to be feared (and hated) will be. We are all strangers to someone.

As news organizations face pressure to generate revenue, their journalistic integrity will continue to erode. The media can provide a real public service through insightful and well-researched reporting. Or it can also cause real harm through spreading imaginary dangers. The public must hold the media accountable for misinformation if it is to stay well-informed with accurate facts. Until certain media outlets stop their sensationalism and fear mongering, it’s up to the public to be critical about what they are being told. It is easy to give into fear; we create healthier and safer communities by seeking and understanding the truth.

The unvarnished truth is that the real and greatest threat to our children on Halloween is the automobile. Kids are three times more likely to be hit by a car on Halloween than on any other night of the year. By focusing on imagined dangers, communities are failing to take action that could actually protect children.

Our communities need to stop chasing the latest media ‘witch hunt’ and come together as neighbors. We can start by getting more involved in local government and other community organizations. Maybe we’ll even find a way to make Halloween fun again.

The post NARSOL’S CT affiliate: Let’s make Halloween fun again first appeared on NARSOL.

By Jaden Edison . . . During counseling programs he’s attended throughout adulthood, Aaron Kearney has been told not to let mistakes define him and not to let the past hijack his future. But for a quarter-century, the 52-year-old has worn a label making it burdensome to live up to those ideals: “registered sex offender.”

“The only thing I feel is that I’m just existing. I’m not living,” said Kearney, on a recent windy Thursday at Bridgeport’s St. Mary’s-by-the-Sea, sitting at a picnic bench with the Long Island Sound as his backdrop. “At the end of the day, you should have sentenced me to death.”

The Bridgeport native never imagined that his name would live on the state’s public sex offense registry for the world to see. The Connecticut Mirror could not locate records outlining specific details in his case, but available documents show he was charged in 1997 with third-degree sexual assault for what he describes as assaulting a sex worker. Promptly after, he pleaded guilty and served eight months in prison.

Months following his release, however, Kearney received notification that Connecticut had recently enacted legislation creating the public registry. The new policy, approved during the 1998 legislative session, was retroactive, meaning people convicted of a “sexually violent offense” in the decade prior to the law’s passage would have to enroll.

Whether or not the person had served time, sexually reoffended or posed a serious risk was insignificant under the new law. That wasn’t the end of it for Kearney. The state first required people convicted of a violent sex offense to register for at least a decade, where a court would grant them relief if they could prove they weren’t likely to reoffend. But in 1999, the legislature amended the law, extending the enrollment mandate to a lifetime.

Read the rest of the piece here at the CT Mirror.

The post CT senator and NARSOL’s CT affiliate work to defeat retroactive inclusion on registry first appeared on NARSOL.

Originally published at CT Mirror; published here in full with permission.

By Cindy Prizio . . . This year will mark the 25th anniversary of the public Sex Offender Registry (SOR) in Connecticut.

The SOR – also called the sexual offense registry by advocates who want to move past the stigma of dehumanizing labels – is a publicly accessible internet database of individuals who have been convicted of a sexual offense and reside, work, or attend school in Connecticut. It is searchable and includes their name, physical description, addresses, photo, and offense details.

The post Time to reform the Connecticut Sex Offender Registry first appeared on NARSOL.