Dashawn Carter and Rashaun Stewart | Why keep it a secret?

The conversation about the sexual offenders’ registry is characterised by the intense contention between the interests of the public good and the rights of perpetrators. This contention seems to be an overcomplicated dilemma.

If we were serious about protecting the vulnerable from sexual violence as a national security priority in Jamaica, the decision would’ve been simple. The sexual offenders’ registry would be public so that all Jamaicans could protect themselves and their families from convicted sexual predators.

This position, first and foremost, is rooted in the fundamental right of every person, especially children, to the protection of their life, liberty and personal security. The ability to know when one may be in proximity to potential harm should never be a luxury, as it is essential to the realisation of this right.

Recent online discourse, sparked by a social media influencer and hundreds of other women sharing experiences of alleged threatening behaviour from a particular repeat offender, highlights a pervasive reality. The absence of accessible information enables patterns of harm to continue unchecked. And, though these conversations are uncomfortable/painful, they are not new. Each report, each incident, and each tragedy rekindles the same unresolved question: Why does Jamaica continue to treat this information as a secret?

DISCOMFORT WITH TRANSPARENCY

We are often quick to publish the names and pictures of wanted men, so much so that we have craftily dubbed it ‘Wanted Wednesdays’, accepting public disclosure as necessary for community safety. Yet, when it comes to individuals who have already been convicted of sexual offences, there is hesitation. The question is: Why? What explains the discomfort with transparency, even after guilt has been established? Why have we allowed this conversation to be marred by the false perception that the solution rests on a simple binary choice between community safety and individual protections.

The structure of the current registry creates an information vacuum, one that actively jeopardises the safety and security of our most vulnerable members of society. By limiting access to a prescribed list, it operates on the flawed assumption that risk can be predicted and managed solely by institutions. However, the issue of sexual violence is much more nuanced and not one that can be resolved by such an unbalanced approach. As the shared stories of women online and tragic cases like the recent murder of nine-year-old Kelcey Ferrigon by a repeat offender demonstrate, danger often lurks in your everyday, unsuspecting neighbours, acquaintances, and community figures. The State’s confidential database, therefore, does little to protect individuals in these daily, unstructured interactions.

A victim-centred, rights-based approach must balance the protection of the vulnerable and the right to public safety with the rights to privacy and rehabilitation. This right imposes a positive obligation on the State to provide communities with the tools necessary for prevention.CULTURAL CONTEXT

However, we cannot ignore the evidence from jurisdictions like the United States and Australia, where public registries have, in some instances, led to severe vigilantism and homelessness.

The government has the responsibility of mitigating unlawful retaliation as a consequence of publication of the registry, but the compelling public good is a far greater burden for the government, and it must act accordingly. We must craft a uniquely Jamaican model that learns from both the successes and failures of other systems.

Of course, this is not an invitation to merely replicate another country’s mechanism/model. We must consider the cultural context of “how we stay” as a people and build robust safeguards into the system from its inception. For instance, this may manifest through the exploration of a risk-assessment model, like that used in Bermuda, where a board evaluates an individual’s specific risk of re-offence before determining the level of public disclosure, could be considered. This moves beyond the current offence-based system to a more nuanced, individualised approach.

A public registry is only as good as the data it contains, and transparency only functions in a system premised on accurate information. An outdated and inaccurate database that leads to mistaken identity or harassment is a profound injustice. Simply, the same posture of urgency and commitment that has been directed towards addressing gun violence through recent firearms legislation must be given to the Sexual Offenders Registry.

Implementing such a model would also require careful legislative adjustment and the implementation of recommendations proposed by the Joint Select Committee on the Sexual Offences Act in 2017. These amendments would need to define disclosure tiers or risk-assessment procedures, establish safeguards, and outline removal processes. The Data Protection Act would also require review to clarify the conditions under which this specific category of personal data can be disclosed in the overriding public interest of preventing serious harm.

This is about shifting the burden of risk away from potential victims (particularly children) and recognising the right of the public to information that can protect life and dignity. We owe it to the vulnerable and to every young person to craft a solution that is both practical and efficacious. Jamaica Youth Advocacy Network is calling for a consultative, evidence-based process to design a transparent, balanced, and effective registry that prioritises the overwhelming public interest in protecting the public from known harm. Our collective safety depends on getting this right.

Dashawn Carter is a human rights advocate and a student in the Faculty of Law at The University of the West Indies, Mona. Rashaun Stewart is a medical doctor and a human rights and health advocate. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com