WHEN THE TIME CAME FOR MARC’S CASE TO GO TO TRIAL, I expected him to be charged with endangering the welfare of a child for trying to groom my son. But, the ADA called to notify me that, in my son’s case, he had decided not to prosecute Marc since he had not succeeded in molesting Christian. I was disappointed and feared that all of Christian’s efforts were for nothing. That night, I had a difficult time sleeping. I drifted off shortly before my alarm rang, but in that small space of time I had a dream that left me quite shaken.
I was young again, around fourteen years old, and living in the small seaside town where I grew up, Long Beach, New York. It was summer and my friend’s “Uncle” Frank offered me a job as a model for his swimming pool company. I begged my mother for permission to go with him to the pool place for an audition and she agreed. Frank told me to bring my bikini bathing suit along. He picked me up early one evening, and on the way to the audition he stopped at a local bar in Lido Beach to make a phone call. He brought me in with him through the back door and sat me on a bar stool with a Coke to wait while he made the call. I had never been in a bar before. I sat there feeling quite grown up. Frank made his call, got me a soda to go, and headed for the door. I followed him out to his car all excited about the possibility of becoming a bathing suit model.
We traveled along the Meadowbrook Parkway that ran parallel to the Long Island Sound. As I stared out at the water, imagining my future as a model, I felt myself growing tired and my vision became fuzzy. I told Frank how strange I felt. He said that it was just my nerves acting up. He handed me the other soda and told me I would feel better after I drank it, but I didn’t feel better. Instead, I fell asleep. The next thing I remembered, Frank was driving down a long gravel road towards the entrance to the swimming pool company. I noticed that there were no cars in the parking lot, and I could see that it was dark inside the building. There wasn’t anybody else there. It was just Frank and me. When I asked him about it, he said that it was he whose job it was to choose the model, so no one else’s presence was necessary. He instructed me to go into the restroom and put on my bikini. I was just a naïve kid, so I complied.
When I came out, Frank commented on how pretty I was and what a nice body I had. He told me he knew that I would be perfect for the modeling job. Then, he began putting me into different poses. He watched me intently as I tried to stand still. Each time he moved me into another position his touch was that much stronger and more personal. At first, he just seemed to be helping me to stand a certain way or to straighten my bathing suit straps. But he went further, and I didn’t like the way he made me feel. He stroked my arm and then my back.
I felt uncomfortable and finally worked up the courage to tell him that I wanted to go home. He reassured me about how much he wanted me to get the job, but I insisted that we leave. He grew angry and argued with me, threatening to hire a different model. But, I stood my ground and demanded that he take me home. Thankfully, he complied. On the long ride back, Frank apologized and said that I had misunderstood his intentions. I didn’t believe him and I began to realize that I might have been tricked into the whole situation. I started to wonder about the modeling job. I just wasn’t sure what was happening, but I foolishly still hoped to get the job.
When we got back to Long Beach, Frank stopped at his apartment saying that he had to go to a meeting and needed to pick up some paperwork on the way. He told me that he rented part of a house and he wasn’t supposed to leave his car in the driveway, so he parked down the street. He said I wouldn’t be safe alone in the car and convinced me to accompany him inside. I hesitantly followed, not knowing which was more dangerous, going with Frank or being in the car by myself.
We entered Frank’s apartment and I noticed that his part of the house was nothing more than a room with a bed and bathroom. I could hear people talking through the walls, so I felt more comfortable knowing that I wasn’t completely alone with him. He instructed me to sit down while he used the bathroom. There was only one place to sit, on the bed, so I positioned myself at the very edge.
He emerged from the bathroom, pants hanging open. I was startled and started to stand up, but he blocked me. He sat down next to me and started whispering to me about sex. He tried to convince me to take off my clothes. He said he wanted to make me feel good. Again, I tried to get up, but he held onto me saying that he would like to perform oral sex on me, and it wouldn’t hurt. I tried to pull away, but he held me tight.
At that point, I became frightened and insisted on leaving. He yanked me closer. I began to cry, and remembering that there were other people in the house, I raised my voice. Frank immediately let me go and agreed to take me home. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want to get into his car, but he convinced me that I would have a lot of explaining to do if I showed up at home without him. “What would your mother think?” he asked. Then, he told me that he had put alcohol into my sodas, and that my mother would immediately notice it on my breath. He said she would never believe me if I told her the truth, and he insisted on driving me home.
I got into Frank’s car. On the way to my house, he stopped at a drug store and bought breath mints. He shoved one into my mouth and told me to suck on it and not talk directly to my mother. I was confused. I knew that I hadn’t willingly consumed the alcohol, but I also felt ashamed because I began to realize that there wasn’t really any modeling job. The man just wanted to have sex with me. Being so young, I didn’t fully comprehend the implications of someone his age attempting to seduce a young girl. I had no idea about things like that. Nobody ever talked about child predators back in the early Sixties. I vaguely recall hearing about a man who used to drive around the neighborhood exposing himself to young girls, but nobody was that concerned. We were all just warned not to get too close to any strangers calling out to us from inside of their cars.
When Frank and I arrived at my house, my mother rushed out to meet us. I sheepishly exited the car, bathing suit in hand. I quickly walked past her without saying a word for fear of alerting her to the alcohol. Frank told her that I did a great job, but that there were other girls to consider, and he would let her know. My mother smiled and thanked him. She followed me inside and tried to talk about my exciting night, but I just wanted to go to bed. “How could I ever tell her the truth—that I was just made a fool of and almost molested by that man?” So, the incident was put into the back of my memory bank and tucked away for many years, until now.
My son had almost been molested—almost. And Marc was going to get away with it. Christian had gone to the police and told them everything, but it didn’t seem to matter. It gnawed away at me. I was frustrated, angry. I ached for someone to listen, to understand, to want to stop Marc so he wouldn’t get away with hurting kids like “Uncle” Frank probably did.
I guess that was why the memory came back to me at that time in my life. Somewhere deep inside of me, there was a feeling that was waiting for just the right time to come to the surface. It had been hidden away for so many years. I knew what it was like to have somebody try to molest me and get away with it. In my case, I hadn’t told on the man. I had held on to it for too many years. But Christian had the courage to tell his story, and I wanted him to know that it had made a difference.
When the trial drew near, I received a phone call from the arresting officer. He told me that the charges against Marc for one of the other boys who had come forward would stick. Marc had victimized the boy in his car, and the boy’s father had caught them having sexual contact. The other claims made against Marc were either past the statute of limitations or pleaded away. While the one boy’s charges did stick, they were reduced to a single misdemeanor due to Marc’s insistence that, not only was he mentally ill and suffering from thyroid problems, but that he would kill himself in prison. He even brought in a psychiatrist to testify on his behalf about it.
When the trial ended, Marc was found guilty. Due to my son’s initial involvement in the case, I was offered the opportunity to make a statement before the court at Marc’s sentencing. I accepted and walked to the front of the courtroom.
Marc was standing with his attorney on the left side of the bench as I faced the judge and talked about his consistent deviant actions towards children and how he had continued to do everything he could to be near them, in spite of past orders from the court. I felt some satisfaction in letting Marc hear exactly what I thought of him. As I continued talking, he stood there, head hanging down, silent, and expressionless. It was clear that he did not see the damage he had done.
Even though a number of boys had told their stories to the authorities, and in spite of the prior convictions and Marc’s continued attempts to be with children, a deal was made that allowed Marc to spend only fifteen days behind bars. That was not nearly enough compared to the wounds of all of the children he had hurt.
A woman who Marc had rented a room from attended his sentencing to show her support for him. She became quite agitated when he was led away in handcuffs. She belted threats at me. The ADA took note of her outburst, and I was escorted safely from the building to my car.
In spite of Marc’s past crimes and his propensity for molesting children, he was able to manipulate the system and gain enough sympathy to go right back out on the street, and against a court order, move back into the home of the woman from whom he had been renting a room. Her five young children lived in the house with her, which made Marc’s presence there a violation of his probation.
Shortly thereafter, I received a phone call from the children’s father. He told me that one of his sons had come forward and told police that Marc had molested him. Marc was brought in for questioning, but according to the boy’s father, the boy recanted after being pressured by his mother and Marc.
Needless to say, I was frustrated with Marc’s ability to roam free. “How could the system fail children in such a blatant way?” I wondered. I didn’t realize at the time that my anger was not only fueled by the events involving Christian, but also the circumstances of my own childhood. I wanted to spare Christian the suffering that I had gone through. I wanted to give him something that I never had—someone to shield me from harm, to step in and save me.
Not long after Marc was released from jail, I received a notice that he had brought a complaint against me with the local bar association. He claimed that I had violated the attorney/client privilege when I brought my son to the police to make a complaint against him, and also when I spoke at Marc’s sentencing. According to the notice, Marc claimed that I had been his attorney and he said that the privilege was in place because of that. He actually had the audacity to claim that he had retained me to represent him against my son in his criminal case. I am not sure how he expected anyone to believe him, but it made me realize how seriously deranged he was.
The bar association dismissed Marc’s claim, and I was left concerned that this man would seek revenge in some other way. I had no idea where he was or whether he still lived nearby. I tried to keep track of him. I did not want him to hurt my family or any more children. Knowing that he had never taken the court’s restrictions seriously, I kept my eyes and ears open thinking that I might run into him again in my neighborhood. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of his plea bargain, Marc was not put onto the sex offenders’ registry. Therefore, it was easy for him to conceal his whereabouts. Needless to say, I realized that there was something very wrong with the then-current system of justice, in that a man like Marc could virtually get away with what he had done. Even though he was ordered to stay away from children, there had never been anybody keeping tabs on him to make sure that he did.
Years passed after Marc’s brief confinement. My focus had shifted to other issues, but Marc remained in the back of my mind. I often wondered where he was and who he might be hurting. I occasionally performed online searches for his address hoping to find out whether he lived in my community. And, I thought about all of the places he might be hanging out in order to be close to kids. I finally had to let it go.
Several years later, in April 2003, I was sitting alone at home working on my laptop when I suddenly thought of Marc again. I can’t put my finger on what brought him to mind, but I decided to do an Internet search to see if I could find him. I had heard about chatrooms and thought that I would enter a few to see what they were about. I had never been in a chatroom and didn’t even know how to maneuver my way around. I invented a screen name that made me appear to be a young girl of fifteen and started scanning through the different AOL chatrooms looking for Marc. I thought that even if I couldn’t find him, I might be able to come across some children who knew him. If they thought I was another kid, they might confide in me if they knew Marc. I didn’t want to portray a boy, because I didn’t know how to act like one. Besides, Marc had a habit of warming up to people to get to their siblings, so I felt that there was a chance that he might even make friends with me to see if I had a brother.
I found some interesting chatrooms that appeared to be aimed at older men looking for young people for sex. I joined a few and sat there watching what was going on. There was a lot of sex talk, and it appeared to be transpiring between young girls and older men. I scanned some more rooms in search of Marc and came across one called “I Love Older Men.” That was where my focus changed. I suddenly found myself sitting in a room being bombarded with instant messages from people openly asking me if I was interested in having sex with them. I was still trying to spot Marc, so I didn’t really care what those other men were saying.
I tried one more general search for him and when I couldn’t find anything under his first name, I began searching for some of the names he used to make up when he played laser tag with the boys. Still, nothing showed up, but I did gain some experience learning my way around the chatrooms. At that point, I still wanted to find him, so when I came up empty in the chatrooms, I did a search on the Web for him under his first and last names. What I found truly shocked me.
There was a link to a newspaper article about him. I opened it up and came face to face with his picture. There he was, right in front of my eyes after all that time. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sat there wondering what he had done this time to warrant him being in the newspaper. I prayed that he hadn’t hurt another child. As I began to read, I realized that the purpose of the article was to discuss a loophole in the sex offender laws that had previously shielded criminals like Marc. The article detailed an indictment against him for several counts of sex crimes against children, including sodomy. I was sickened by this news. He had molested several more boys between the ages of eight and fourteen. He had done it again, and the legal system had allowed him to do it. After all, he had been afforded more protection than his victims. But, the information that followed really floored me. Marc was never convicted of the numerous charges in the indictment because he did what most would consider the unthinkable: he committed suicide. The article said that he hanged himself.
I was stunned.
Marc must have come to the realization that he had finally gone too far. He wasn’t going to get away with his crimes anymore. There were too many convictions and too many boys who had come forward claiming to have been hurt by him. He also knew what would happen to him in prison while he sat on the lowest rung of the jail house ladder. He took the only way out that he thought was feasible for him.
Months later, I found another article entitled “Jail Suicide/Mental Health Update,” jointly published by the National Center on Institutions and Alternatives and the National Institute of Corrections for the US Department of Justice, that said that Marc died after taking an overdose of psychiatric medications that he had been accumulating in his cell when he was supposed to be swallowing them. He was taken to a hospital where he reportedly died two days later. It also said that “the charges against Marc shocked people who knew him and the parents of his victims.” Not surprisingly, it continued, “Several neighbors had him baby-sit their children and teach them martial arts.”
That was the way Marc operated. I had seen it many times already, and yet, he was able to do it all again because the system had failed more children. Here was a man who had apparently achieved a master’s degree in human development from the State University of New York (SUNY) at Stony Brook. He was able to fool everyone around him for years in order to get close enough to children to molest them. And yet, his suicide “prompted jail officials to re-examine how they treat ‘high risk’ inmates.” They changed the way they handled offenders at the jail. How about changing the way they let child molesters prowl amid our children? If Marc Gunning wasn’t coddled in court and sent for a whopping fifteen days in jail the last time he was incarcerated, the trail of hurt he left behind would be a lot smaller!
When I first found out about Marc’s death almost four years had already passed, and I could not believe that I hadn’t heard about it sooner. I know it sounds harsh, but, in a sense, I was relieved. He was obviously not going to stop on his own. At least this predator would not take advantage of any more children. I knew where he was now, and I knew that children were safe, at least from him, and so was I.
While searching for Marc online, my eyes were opened to things that I had never known existed. The chatrooms were full of adults who were hunting for children with whom to have sex. I decided to continue with my online identity, but now I had a broader search in mind. Surely, the persona I was using could be put to good use. I had already seen that there were people on the Internet trying to talk to children about having sex. I decided to go back into the chatrooms that I visited in looking for Marc and see what would happen. Maybe I could do something to save another child from going through what Marc’s victims had endured.
I used the screen name that I had created, Teen2hot4u, as well as the profile that clearly reflected that I was a young teen girl. According to the terms of AOL, profiles can contain anything that a person wants as long as it does not violate the terms of the Internet provider’s service. Many include catchy sayings, personal quotes, and photographs. They generally list a person’s name, location, gender, marital status, hobbies, occupation, and anything else that the creator wants others to know or to think they know about them. Often, much of the information is fabricated so as not to reveal the true identity of the creator.
The first night that I signed onto the Internet, I really thought it a remote possibility that I would accomplish anything. I suppose finding out about Marc was some type of accomplishment, but I had also stumbled into a world that I never knew existed. I scanned the chatroom names until I found the ones that I thought would contain sexual predators; in other words, adults looking for children to meet for sex. I signed into a chatroom that was created by members of AOL and I sat there. My name appeared on the room’s list, but I never entered into the public chat in which everybody in the room participated. In barely a minute, I began receiving instant messages from people identifying themselves as older men.
The first guy to really catch my attention was from California. He was in his mid-forties and he instant messaged me by typing “a/s/l.” I had no idea what that meant. I now recognize it as the standard introductory question to find out someone’s age, sex, and location. Then he immediately went into a deep conversation about sex. Through my answers, I made it clear that I was a young teenage girl with no sexual experience. He wanted to see what I looked like, but I did not send him a picture. That did not deter him.
The following is part of a chat that I had with him. Since he was not one of the men who were subsequently arrested, his screen name is altered.
HotXXXinCal: Would be nice to see you in bikini . . . you sound really pretty Don’t have to of course
Teen2hot4u: i have to c if i can find one [c: “see”]
HotXXXinCal: If you ever wanted to see more of me you can . . . does it bother you when I am sexual? Please be honest
Teen2hot4u: no. what dya mean see more [dya: “do you”]
HotXXXinCal: I have pics of me undressed, to be honest [pics: “pictures”]
I did not realize it at the time, but most guys want to see the girl’s picture before becoming too sexually explicit or sending nude pictures of themselves. They don’t generally offer theirs up as easily as this guy did. However, I have since learned that many of those who do are merely looking to send lewd pictures of themselves out to young girls because the girl’s reaction arouses them. For example, read on:
HotXXXinCal: Have you seen a guy’s cock before? Is it OK to use the word cock, btw? [btw: “by the way”]
Teen2hot4u: in magazines. i guess so
HotXXXinCal: Never in person tho, right?
Teen2hot4u: no
HotXXXinCal: Has any guy sent his online?
Teen2hot4u: no
HotXXXinCal: k . . . just wanted you to know I would if you want me to. I’m open sexually. You want to see? [k: “okay”]
Teen2hot4u: k
HotXXXinCal: Could not share, tho could save on disc & put in purse if want
Teen2hot4u: what dya mean share? show it to someone?
HotXXXinCal: Some people show others. yeah . . . please don’t
Teen2hot4u: k
This man was so eager to have a young girl see him naked that he started emailing the pictures almost immediately. He had no idea who I was or what I really looked like. In reality, I doubt he even cared. I didn’t know much about how all of this Internet chatter worked yet, but looking back, I can honestly say that he was probably just an exhibitionist. That’s not to say that he wasn’t also a child molester, but I doubt he intended to fly all the way across the country to see me. However, he appeared to have a sick need for a young girl to see him naked and listen to his sexual stories.
HotXXXinCal: I once chatted with a young woman who stripped and another who even fingered, both on condition no one would see . . . no one has or will NO ONE EVER sees your pics unless you asked me to share em
HotXXXinCal: I sent mail [mail: “email”]
Teen2hot4u: k
HotXXXinCal: 2nd pic. Please let me know if you like at all
Teen2hot4u: is that really u or a magazine?
HotXXXinCal: Its me. Here . . . let me do something. Gimme a minute Teen2hot4u: what r u doin
HotXXXinCal: Takin a pic. I’m downloading into computer & will send.
Teen2hot4u: k
HotXXXinCal: Took just for you. Did you like the ones I sent already?
Teen2hot4u: yeah but i didnt get anotha pic
HotXXXinCal: mail
HotXXXinCal: See, its really me. Did you see it?
Teen2hot4u: how come u dont show me your face. r u really the one who sent the pix
HotXXXinCal: yes. I’ll take digital pic right now
Teen2hot4u: k
HotXXXinCal: I just don’t take full nudes until with someone
Teen2hot4u: its weird seeing jus that
HotXXXinCal: Just my cock?
Teen2hot4u: yeah
HotXXXinCal: k . . . let me take another . . . I’ll take one of face & then one naked but without face, k?
Teen2hot4u: how come u dont want me to c yur face
HotXXXinCal: I do. Just not full nude . . . no offense, but til REALLY know one another, people sometimes share pics . . . we are just learning about each other
Teen2hot4u: i dunno
HotXXXinCal: Here . . . let me share pics
Teen2hot4u: if yur sendin me pix of it why cant i see its really yur face
HotXXXinCal: I am. Mail. 2 more just took in bathroom
At this point, I was beyond horrified. Here was a man who assumed that he was communicating with a fifteen-year-old girl, and he thought nothing of talking explicitly about sex and sending nude pictures of himself to her. I needed a break!
Teen2hot4u: k.have to let my dog outside.brb [brb: “be right back”]
HotXXXinCal: k [after some time away]
Teen2hot4u: i got em
HotXXXinCal: I would not lie . . . its really me
HotXXXinCal: If was gonna send fakes, would send one in better shape . . . LOL [LOL: “laughing out loud”]
HotXXXinCal: You like what you see?
Teen2hot4u: yeah
HotXXXinCal: What think might want to do if I was there? You can save any, all or none of em, btw
Teen2hot4u: i dunno
HotXXXinCal: Have ever wanted to touch one or stroke a cock?
Teen2hot4u: i guess
HotXXXinCal: This is kinda personal and you don’t have to say, but ever touch self?
Teen2hot4u: maybe
HotXXXinCal: k . . . its OK if don’t want to chat about it
Teen2hot4u: i feel funny
HotXXXinCal: k . . . no prob. Honestly. I just was wondering if had ever had orgasm was all. I had my first when your age
Teen2hot4u: i dunno
HotXXXinCal: Masturbating that is. Oh, you’d know if you did. Its rather intense. Feels awesome
Again, I needed a diversion. This subject was not one that I discussed freely, especially with total strangers on the Internet!
Teen2hot4u: wait moms on phone
HotXXXinCal: k
Teen2hot4u: shes comin home soon i have to get ready
HotXXXinCal: k . . . I understand . . . can I ask one q before go? Did seeing me excite you? [q: “question”]
Teen2hot4u: yeah i guess
HotXXXinCal: cool
Teen2hot4u: i gotta go now before she gets home
HotXXXinCal: Hope you can scan your pic soon & email . . . great chatting & will chat more soon
Teen2hot4u: what if u don like my pic
HotXXXinCal: I will. No doubt
Teen2hot4u: even if im just a kid not like in a magazine
HotXXXinCal: Thats what I prefer
Teen2hot4u: really how come
HotXXXinCal: I don’t want done up pics . . . just you
HotXXXinCal: I just like natural. Look at me, I’m not a model. I’m just me
Teen2hot4u: but im not like a grownup like my mom
HotXXXinCal: Thats cool . . . you sound really gorgeous to me
I “sound” really gorgeous? On the computer?
HotXXXinCal: I’m serious
Teen2hot4u: i dunno did u see someone my age before
HotXXXinCal: yes
HotXXXinCal: One of the girls who took naked pics was your age . . . I don’t expect yours to be naked tho of course
Teen2hot4u: yur just sayin that cause yur nice to me
HotXXXinCal: She started with dressed pics
HotXXXinCal: No . . . I’m not just saying that
Teen2hot4u: and you liked it
HotXXXinCal: yes. a LOT
Teen2hot4u: did she meet u
HotXXXinCal: She would have. Dad caught her as going out
Teen2hot4u: o-was she in trouble
HotXXXinCal: yeah, kinda. Nothing serious
Teen2hot4u: did she live in cal
HotXXXinCal: yes 10 miles away
Teen2hot4u: how did he know where she was goin
HotXXXinCal: He didn’t . . . he just knew she was ready to go out at 1AM or so. Mighta been 2
Teen2hot4u: did she tell that she was goin to c u
HotXXXinCal: No
HotXXXinCal: He grounded her anyway
Teen2hot4u: i guess he was jus mad cause she was sneakin out
HotXXXinCal: yeah
Teen2hot4u: yeah my mom doesnt like me to go out late but she works alot
HotXXXinCal: cool
Teen2hot4u: i gotta get ready
HotXXXinCal: k
HotXXXinCal: Glad you liked me naked
Teen2hot4u: k*
This guy had just told me that he makes plans to meet young girls, and he gets naked pictures of them. “What kinds of girls do that?” I wondered. They must really talk about sex with him. But, thinking it through, I realized our chat was obviously one-sided. I barely said anything to him except that I didn’t believe the pictures were of him and that I had to go. But, that didn’t stop him from talking sexually and sending me nude pictures of himself.
The man never saw a picture of Lorie. He hadn’t heard her voice yet. But, because she was a young impressionable child, he knew he could make her feel special with his compliments.
His first pictures were innocent. Then, he sent a few showing his genitals. It took only a matter of minutes before he sent full-length nude photos of himself. Some even showed him masturbating. Others depicted women and men performing sexual acts together.
I was outraged, not only because he was exposing himself on the Internet without caring who saw him, but because he thought he was sending the pictures to a child. I never expected that. I thought that I might come across some people who wanted to chat with young girls and possibly even meet them for sex. I never expected to be faced with visuals. This man was obviously using his webcam, as I came to learn that many of the Internet predators do, to send instant images of himself. I wanted to tell him what a disgusting pervert I thought he was, but I realized that he would just sign off, maybe create a new screen name, and then move on to find another young girl. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do something to stop him from finding a real girl to meet. I had to notify the authorities.
Due to the fact that the man lived out of state and was using the Internet, I thought it appropriate to notify the FBI rather than the local police. I decided to contact them to see if they were interested in investigating the man.
My initial reaction after communicating with him was that I had caught the big, Internet predator! I felt so lucky to have come across him as quickly and easily as I had. After all, I was signed on for only a few minutes, and somehow I managed to attract who I perceived as this infamous criminal. I thought it would make such a huge difference to get him off the Internet.
The next morning, I called the Manhattan FBI office. I was asked several questions and left my phone number. The following day, Special Agent Austin Berglas called me. He asked if I would send him the man’s photos and we discussed the chats. Then he suggested that we set up an appointment to meet at my home. I assumed that he wanted to see if I was a crazy woman trying to get revenge against an old boyfriend. And, my assumption was pretty much correct. Much later, Agent Berglas shared with me that when I first called, he was skeptical about me and wondered what type of person I was because they do get calls from some questionable people. But, he added that he was interested in talking to me because it is important for the FBI to have sources outside of law enforcement. He said that it’s difficult to have a good source of information because individuals who report these kinds of crimes are generally involved with them, and most agents aren’t willing to give those types of people a break. Since I didn’t have an ulterior motive, he was excited to talk to me because I already had an in.
Agent Berglas was the Coordinator of Squad C-20, also known as the Crimes Against Children Squad, which is a violent crime squad in the New York FBI’s criminal division. At the time, Squad C-20 did not have the authority to go online to do proactive investigations. They were reactive, meaning that they were reacting to tips from citizens and leads from other agencies or field offices. So Agent Berglas was glad to have a person who was already talking to sexual predators and could provide the squad with valuable information.
Agent Berglas arrived at my home with another agent, most likely for protection, I thought. I invited them in and led them into my living room where we all sat down. There was a moment of silence during which I felt quite awkward. “They work for the FBI and I sit home talking to perverts on my computer,” I thought. “What must they really think of me?” They began asking me various questions.
“What made you go into these chatrooms?”
“Did you know the man you called us about?”
“Did you instigate the conversations?”
“Did you bring up sex first?”
“Did you ask for his pictures?”
At first, I felt somewhat defensive. They were shooting questions at me, and I began to feel as though I was on the witness stand. But, then I realized that I would have been asking the same questions if positions were reversed. So, I just continued to answer them to the best of my ability and soon, I had a reason to exhale. It wasn’t long before Agent Berglas commented that what I was doing was wonderful, because for every sexual predator that is arrested, several children are being saved from getting hurt. I was relieved. The agents had validated what I was doing. They didn’t consider me to be a perverted weirdo. Whew!
Much later, Agent Berglas shared with me that when he showed up at my home, he was pleasantly surprised to find someone who was intelligent, well spoken, and willing to help. He added that he was impressed because I had no ulterior motive other than to help.
At our first meeting, Agent Berglas suggested that I save my chats if I continue chatting with sexual predators. I didn’t know how to save chats, so he instructed me. He also explained what entrapment was, a term that I was already familiar with due to my legal background. But, he needed to make certain that what I was turning over to him would not be tainted evidence, in other words, evidence that would be inadmissible in court. He then gave me some instructions regarding how to avoid entrapping anyone. I knew what he was going to say, but I also knew that he had to say it, so I remained quiet. He said that I was never to begin an instant message chat with anyone the first time. And, once a chat had been initiated, I was never to bring up sex the first time.
We talked for quite awhile longer, during which time Agent Berglas informed me that if I continued reporting predators to the FBI it would be of my own free will and that I would not be an employee of the agency. He added that I should not be under the assumption that I work for the agency in any capacity and that I could not expect to receive any type of compensation from them. However, he did clarify that last statement. He said that there is a reward fund set aside and that, on occasion, he is sometimes able to give people money for various reasons. He said that he couldn’t promise anything. I understood that before they had arrived. I never expected to get anything in return. Frankly, I never expected most of what has transpired since that meeting.
Before our meeting ended, the agents got down to business and discussed the man I had called them about. Since he had given me his phone number and asked me to call him, Agent Berglas decided to set up a monitored phone call. I had always sounded young, especially on the phone. Callers still often ask if my mother is home. So, the agents agreed on a time and day for me to make the call and our meeting ended. Unbeknownst to us all at the time, that was the beginning of a very long and unique relationship between two good friends—Lorie and Julie.
I was excited. I felt as though I was finally doing something worthwhile, something that would give me back a purpose in my life. I had been home for a long time recovering from a car accident. I had planned to be out in the world working on a great career, but it was derailed by a motorist who ran into the back of my car, pushing it into and under the vehicle ahead. The accident caused injuries serious enough to put my plans on hold.
Not long after our first meeting, Agent Berglas and a colleague of his returned to my house with some telephone monitoring equipment. They hooked it up to my phone and we called the man I had met on the Internet. It was awkward sitting there in front of two strangers, making myself sound coy and so much younger and talking about things I normally didn’t discuss on the phone or in front of strangers. The man freely talked about all of the sexual things that he wanted to do to “me,” the little girl he thought he had been chatting with online. I didn’t know yet just how typical the call was for a conversation with a sexual predator.
Over the next few weeks, I had many more chats and calls with the man. He was more than explicit about his intentions. He told me that he was going to fly 3,000 miles to see me and we would get a hotel room and spend a few days having sex. After each call, he would send more obscene pictures and chat more openly about what he wanted to do with me when we met.
As I have learned, there comes a point when we have to make a decision about whether to continue communicating with certain people. At times, it becomes clear that a person is not really interested or is too afraid to meet. Then, the agents have to decide if there is enough evidence to make an arrest without a meeting or if they should just let the person go until something more happens.
As time passed, it was obvious that this particular person did not really intend to do more than chat, at least not with me, a “girl” 3,000 miles away. So, his name was passed on to local agents in his area. Thus, a meeting with him and Lorie never took place, but the experience sparked the beginning of a long relationship for me with the world of Internet predators and the FBI that has led to many arrests and convictions.
*The screen name HotXXXinCal was created for purposes of the previous example. While the content of this chat is authentic, I have not had contact with anyone using that screen name and have no information about anyone who may have used, may currently use, or may subsequently use that screen name.