Posted by: Elizabeth | March 10, 2009

The child molester next door

There’s this old couple who lives next door to the house where I grew up on the East Side.  The wife held a daycare there. And once, the husband took down the fence between our backyards because it was leaning into his side (we were bothered by the anger his action implied, but we didn’t miss the rusty fence). 

When my mother heard this news, she freaked out. The husband just pleaded guilty to two counts of child molestation. Yes, at the daycare. Possibly with the same little kids who ran into our driveway and tried to play with our cats.

Since I’d lived next door to it as a child, Mom recently asked if I’d ever been inside that house. I hadn’t.

“Come on, Mom,” I said. “We don’t even know our neighbors.” Which is apparently a good thing.



  1. Finding out something like this is horrible. I quit as an altarboy at Guardian Angels just as pedophile priest Father Cooley joined the parish. If I had stuck it out, I would probably have been one of his victims. It’s like finding out you dodged a bullet you never knew was fired at you.

  2. I doubt it. He was going after the under-5’s in his wife’s daycare and I didn’t live next to them until I was 9. I was probably too old for his tastes.

    Also, my family never had much contact with any of the neighbors. I mean, if I’d seen this on the news without Mom calling me about it, I would have never made the connection.

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