It took ten days to get through the list, the files so repulsively fascinating Dick found himself lost in the reading. It was like getting an up close, intimate look at the dark, sordid underbelly of society. Over the years, Dick’s read plenty of stories about abuse by priests and other figures of authority such as teachers and coaches, but the occupations and personality types of the pedophiles living a stone’s throw away were hardly confined to the predictable. They included anybody and everybody. There was a gardener, a dentist, a butcher, two psychiatrists, even a surgeon who abused his victims while they were under anesthesia. Every case had its own underlying story. Many of the perpetrators were victims themselves, while others came from seemingly perfect backgrounds and circumstances.
His mouse hovers over the calculate button, his excitement concerning. He knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this but is unable to help himself. It was a difficult task parsing the files, and now that he’s finished, he is undeniably eager to see the results.
Click.
Like a crystal ball, the screen refreshes, and he scrolls through the results to see four of the seventy-two names highlighted green. Within the next five years, four of the seventy-two registered sex offenders of children within twenty-five miles of where he is sitting have a 93 percent probability of reoffending.
He leans back and blows out a breath, relieved. The result is better than he feared. He had thought it would be at least twice that.
The scores range from sixty-four, one point above the break point, to sixty-eight. Number five on the list catches his eye. The score is sixty-two. The next highest is fifty-five. Dick looks back at the file of the sixty-two, a man by the name of Diego Ramirez. His victims were girls, and he only has one conviction, which is what kept him below the Mendoza Line.
He thinks about this. He doesn’t like to fudge. Precise analytics dictated the score where a significant statistical change in probability occurs, which in this case was sixty-three. The number isn’t arbitrary, and Diego Ramirez is below it.
Just the same, he reviews the file, and a small note in the psychological profile causes him to reconsider, “Mr. Ramirez has deep resentment toward his victims, which manifests itself in a need for their total acquiescence. If they do not submit, it’s likely he will seek revenge.”
Dick thinks about Otis and the note he sent Dee when he was convicted. It’s not one of the contributing factors, too difficult to measure, but he decides to add it as an “extra criteria.” If resentment toward the victims is evident, the subject receives a bonus point.
He erases the other profiles, keeping only Ramirez and the other four. Seventy-two possibilities winnowed down to five. He feels a perverse sense of accomplishment, the thrill of knowing he’s done something very few could do.
It’s after seven, and he’s tired. He saves his work, scrubs his computer, and tucks the thumb drive in his pocket. He’ll decide what to do with his newfound knowledge another day. For now, he’s earned a beer.