Sex offender Laws Are Broken. These Women Are Working To Fix Them. STANDING UP FOR THE RIGHTS OF A WIDELY REVILED GROUP ISN'T FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.

• Author: Lieberman, Hallie

SANDY ROZEK IS the polar opposite of what comes to mind when you hear the word activist. A 78-year-old great-grandmother and retired high school English teacher who lives in Houston, Rozek is not woke, doesn't post on Twitter, and spearheads a movement you've probably never heard of.

Rozek works with the National Association for Rational Sexual Offense Laws (NARSOL). She is one of several women who lead an effort to oppose the unjust, irrational, and ineffective laws that continue to punish sex offenders long after they have served their time.

All 50 states have sex offender registries, and the U.S. Justice Department combines them in a single national database. The information, which is available online to the general public, covers nearly 1 million people, whose crimes run the gamut from streaking to rape. In addition to the stigma imposed by that electronic pillory, registration comes with a panoply of restrictions that dictate where people can live and work, when and where they are allowed to travel, and even whether they're allowed to pick up their own children from school or take them to the park.

Reform organizations cite four major reasons for scaling back or eliminating the registry. They say it's unconstitutional, imposing ex post facto penalties that deprive registrants of rights everyone else enjoys; it's unscientific, relying on discredited beliefs about the danger that registrants pose; it's unforgiving, disrupting people's lives decades after they've completed their sentences; and it's undiscriminating, burdening not just the registrants themselves but their families and communities.

In this #MeToo moment, when everyone seems focused on holding men accountable for their sexual crimes, the civil rights of people who have committed such offenses tend to get short shrift. But both movements are spearheaded by women who are determined to change the national narrative about sex crimes.

Most of the registry reformers are in their 60s or 70s, with grown children and grandchildren. Unlike the founders of the #MeToo movement, they have not been featured in glossy magazine articles lauding their courage. But make no mistake: These women are brave. Many have been shunned by their friends and family because of their stances. Speaking out against the registry means aligning yourself with modern-day lepers, people who are viewed with fear and disgust by the vast majority of Americans.

NEVER-ENDING PUNISHMENT

LIKE MANY OTHERS in the movement, Rozek became a registry reformer because of a personal connection. About a decade ago, one of her friends was convicted of having an inappropriate sexual relationship. While it didn't put her on the registry, she served a term of probation and had to complete a treatment program. "I really got started with it because of the treatment angle," Rozek says. "In Texas, sex offender treatment is a joke. They don't treat. They monitor. They intimidate."

When Rozek started volunteering at NARSOL, she was 65. Her first task: scouring the internet for articles on sex offenders and using the comment sections to post corrections. She also penned the occasional op-ed. Eventually she became NARSOL's communications director, writing for the website, helping to run its committees, and organizing its conferences. She spends up to eight hours a day on the work, all unpaid.

As a Christian, Rozek "just cannot accept that people cannot be forgiven." If a sex offender has "served his time, and if he's trying his best to be a decent human being now and wants to be a law-abiding citizen," Rozek says, "we need to not throw roadblocks in his path.... If it was 30 years ago, and the person did everything required, has fulfilled every legal obligation, has been free and clear of any involvement with law enforcement for 30 years, has established a family, has been living with this family for years now, and then all of a sudden he cannot live with them anymore [because of residence restrictions ], that is a horrible destruction to families."

Although most of the people on the registry are men, most of the people running the reform movement are women. Nobody really knows why, but there are a few theories.

"Women, in our culture, pull together the families," says Emily Horowitz, a professor of sociology at St. Francis College who is an expert on sex offender registries. "That's a lot of the reason why women fight so hard. I think men are somewhat hesitant to weigh in on something that's about sexual violence, because it could be viewed as like, 'Oh, you're defending men who hurt women.'"

NARSOL, which was founded in 2007 and has branches in 19 states, is the oldest and largest sex offender law reform organization. It is joined by three other national groups, all led by women, most of whom have a friend, son, or husband on the registry.

The crimes that will land someone on the list vary by state, but they include not just assaultive crimes such as rape and child molestation but also nonpredatory offenses such as public urination, promotion of prostitution, and possession of child pornography. Children as young as 9 have to register in some places. A handful of states require people convicted of any sex offense to register for life--and even after death.

In many states, registration comes with residence restrictions. Under those local and state laws, registrants typically are banned from living within 1,000 or 2,000 feet of schools, parks, churches, or day care centers. The practical impact of such exclusion zones can be so dramatic that registrants end up homeless. In Miami, dozens of them live under a bridge.

Several states also prohibit registrants from visiting locations such as parks, schools, community pools, and day care centers. Sometimes they even restrict where people can work. In Alabama, registrants are not allowed to be employed within 500 feet of "a playground, park, athletic field or facility, or child-focused business or facility." Such rules compound the problems registrants already face in finding jobs. Many businesses don't want to hire them, especially since some states require that employers of sex offenders also be listed in the registry.

'THE KEY WORD IS RATIONAL'

THE NATIONAL SEX offender registry was created in 1994 by a law named after Jacob Wetterling, an 11-year-old Minnesota boy who was kidnapped and murdered in 1989. That law required states to create registries listing people convicted of sexually violent offenses or crimes against children. Unlike today's databases, this registry...