CLOSE UP AND PERSONAL:
THE JIMMY RYCE ACT
by Christina Jacqueline Johns, Ph.D.
Law, Power and Justice Syndicate
July 3, 2000 Tallahassee Florida
Roy Whitsett and his wife Susan are typical middle class Americans.
They live in a comfortable middle class house. They drive typical middle
class cars and espouse solid American middle class values.
They are people who believe implicitly in justice, democracy, the rule
of law and the most cherished institutions of the country.
But in the last seven years, Roy and Susan Whitsett have had their lives
turned upside down and their faith in the government and the justice system
shaken to its core.
Most of those in the media consider their story "yesterday's news."
But it was today's news a few weeks ago when their son, Steven, made national
headlines by participating in a helicopter escape from the Martin Treatment
Center established in Florida to treat what are called Sexually Violent
Predators.
Then, the Whitsetts were the center of attention for a horde of reporters
asking if they gave their son the money for the escape, if they knew he
was going to escape, and how they "felt."
Steven Whitsett and his accomplice were captured after a manhunt which
included every law enforcement organization in the area, bullet proof
vests, guns, SWAT teams, The helicopter escape was replaced within days
by other "sexier" stories in the news. The reporters went home.
But Steven Whitsett and his family are still there. It's difficult to
get the media to even pay attention to their story now. Helicopter escapes
are hot news, but a family's decade of agony is not. Sex offenders are
usually interesting to the public only as objects of hate; and their families...I
suppose we'd all just rather not think about them.
But those families exist, and they are not all monsters who turned their
children into the same thing. Some of them are like Susan and Roy Whitsett,
baffled, crushed, and disapproving of what their child has done, but also
astounded by the reaction of the media and the criminal justice system.
Susan Whitsett slid a colorful piece of paper across her dining room
table at me as we were sitting, the three of us, sharing a Chinese carry
out meal. I turned the piece of paper around so I could read it and noted
the somewhat familiar style of a major news weekly. Susan Whitsett had
drawn circles around sentences in red marker and written "absolute
lie" at one point.
In the article, published by Time Magazine, Steven Whitsett was described
as one of the most dangerous sexual predators in Florida. The article
referred to Steven and the accomplice as ex-lovers and also stated that
they had lived together.
"And, It's not as if this magazine was..." She paused, groping.
"The National Enquirer." I finished for her.
"Yes."
When Susan Whitsett tried to contact Time Magazine, they didn't even
give her the dignity of a reply.
That night, that Whitsetts told me about the two offences that had gotten
their son sentenced to eight years in prison. Neither of these offenses
was violent, one was admitted to be consensual. Steven Whitsett turned
himself in for the first offense and plead guilty to the second.
But, at the beginning of the summer, while Susan and Roy Whitsett, who
loved and stood beside their son through it all, were waiting for a phone
call from the prison to tell them when to come and get Steven, they received
another sort of call entirely. It was from Steven alright, but it was
to tell them that he had been taken in shackles and in a windowless van
to Martin Correctional Institution await trial for civil commitment. under
the Jimmy Ryce Act. There was a possibility that he would be confined
for the rest of his life.
The Whitsetts phoned a dozen government officials. Some treated them
as if they were too stupid to understand the complications of the Jimmy
Ryce Act, others just admitted that the act was so new they didn't understand
it themselves.
The Whitsett family is caught in the web of Florida's new sexual predator
act. As one psychologist at the facility told me, "We're supposed
to be getting the worst of the worst here. I don't know if we are or not."
The Whitsett's certainly don't think so, not at least in the case of
their son, and no parent who has ever raised a less than perfect child
could fail to empathize with them.
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