By Sandy . . . “I am just one person,” he wrote. “I have been trying to find a place to live for ten months and it’s nigh impossible. . . I’m paroled to Milwaukee, a place I’m not legally allowed to live. If something doesn’t change, I will be homeless soon. The laws are making me homeless.”

He was arrested in China in 2016, underwent a trial of sorts, was convicted on a child pornography charge, and served half of a three-year sentence in prison there before the FBI took custody of the case and brought him to Wisconsin for a trial here in 2018. He

was convicted for distribution of child pornography and was sentenced to eight years. He served seven years in New Mexico, six months at Oxford FCI in Oxford, Wisconsin, and March of 2024 was placed under community supervision at Parson’s halfway house in Milwaukee for a year.

Every step of the way, he was humiliated, threatened, and mistreated.

He will be on parole for seven years. He is registered on Wisconsin’s sex offender registry until 2047. He was raised and grew up in Washington State and has no  connection to Wisconsin except it was part of the internet hub used in the distribution charge.

I asked him why he wasn’t legally allowed to live in Milwaukee, and for the first time I learned about Wisconsin’s allowance of original domicile laws. These laws, at the most basic level, prohibit someone on the registry from living somewhere unless they lived there at the time of their conviction.  A significant number of Wisconsin’s cities have original domicile laws, effectively banishing registrants from any of those cities unless they were convicted there or grew up there. Between residency restrictions and original domicile ordinances, a registrant on parole can find virtually no place to live in Milwaukee nor its surrounding cities.

The interplay between  state and municipal original domicile laws and residency restriction ordanances is convoluted and almost impossible to follow; even finding citations is difficult. Additionally, some of the laws have been repealed or modified, but for “serious sex offenders,” they remain fixed. In most states, any CP conviction is labeled as serious.

The bottom line is that Christopher has to have an apartment by the time he leaves the halfway house, March 5. He has gotten a job in Milwaukee, but he can’t stay in Milwaukee due to the restrictions. He is looking outside of the city in hopes of finding a place withough original domicile laws where he can legally live that is close enough to commute to his job. If he doesn’t find something by that deadline, he will be homeless. Even if he finds something, it must be approved by a DOC supervisor, which is another layer of hoops to jump through.

Christopher isn’t the only one. We contacted Robert, NARSOL’s Wisconsin state representative, about

the situation. His response validated everything Christopher had said:

We’re having a massive problem here in Milwaukee.  There is no state-widestandard for registrant housing; each municipality sets its own rules.  State law requires someone being released from incarceration return to the county they’re convicted in, even if they have no connections in that county.  When a registrant finds a place that would accept them, their agent has to accept it as being within the rules—as they interpret them.  I’ve talked with people who had found a place, but the agent wouldn’t approve it and wanted them to go to a different town.  The result is that many registrants right now are homeless.  Even if they stay at a motel, they can only stay there nine days then have to move for at least one day, or they’re “establishing domicile.” I believe the Department of Community Corrections is just as frustrated as we are.

Everyone involved feels frustrated, but that doesn’t even begin to describe Christopher’s feelings.

Most of the people and police departments I contact don’t know what to tell me. I have to fulfill all these requirements, and yet the state has made it impossible for me. I’ve served my sentence; I’ve taken responsibility; I want to be in compliance. Only by good luck or the grace of God could anyone actually in my shoes make it back into society under these conditions. They have boxed me in and left no way out. I am contemplating what I might have to do to stay off the streets and return to prison where at least I’d have a bed and food. My case manager doesn’t even know what to do to help me—can’t offer any advice or tips on how to fix this problem. They are dooming me from the starting gate.

Those who commit these offenses must be held accountable. Christopher has been. He is still paying, now, after incarceration. He will pay by living many more years on the sex offender registry. He will pay until he dies with the scorn and contempt he receives, and many will say rightly so. But should that payment include difficulty even having hope for access to the things that evidence-based data shows inhibits reoffense and best assures a healthy lifestyle—housing, occupation, and family and community connections?

And most of all, should that payment be something that decreases public safety—homelessness—and does so due to the laws that he must abide by?

This piece is based on a series of email interviews with a registrant on parole in Milwaukee County, Wisconsin. Every attempt has been made to verify information as accurate.

The post “The laws are making me homeless” first appeared on NARSOL.