NOBODY'S HOME: The Palm River trailer park that housed nine sex offenders is mostly empty.

The sex offender story in this week’s issue is one of the hardest stories I've had to report. In fact, I wrestled with the idea of writing it at all.

Like most people, I abhor sex offenders and their crimes. There’s a comment I heard often this week: Many people regard sex offenders as worse than murderers. It’s true. You can see that in prison; most sex offenders, especially those that targeted a child, try to keep their crimes a secret for fear of violence from other inmates.

But I decided to write the story, because I felt other reporters weren't asking the underlying question: If we push sex offenders from areas where they are legally allowed to live, where should they go? And are we serving ourselves, and our children, by constantly uprooting these people and regulating them to the far reaches of our county?

Nobody wants a sex offender living next door. I certainly don’t. But as our counties build out, it’s becoming harder to avoid, and situations like the one in Palm River are increasing. But instead of crafting sane policies that keep children safe while also giving these offenders a chance to re-enter society, elected officials try to out-do one another with increasingly harsh ordinances. What isn’t being reported is that these residency restrictions can backfire.