Coalinga is a $400 million complex that costs the state $200,000 per year to house each of the 800 individuals detained there (and it can hold 1,500 people.) Considering 70% of them there don't participate in the therapy sessions, it's effectively "warehousing" the majority in a comfortable environment until the day they die. And, while Coalinga resembles a prison in many ways (barbed wire fences, tan-coloured utilitarian uniforms), the interior is not unlike an empty shopping mall -- containing tennis courts, gyms, a baseball field and music rooms. This is clearly because it's not, strictly-speaking, a prison; it's a maximum security hospital and none of the inhabitants are criminals.
Louis meets Mr. Rigby, a convicted paedophile trying to go straight (or is he just pretending to?), with a curious taste in photos of naked male statues and paintings of young ballet dancers that Louis believes look underage. Louis' concern is brought to the attention of Coalinga's staff, and Rigby himself takes it upon himself to contact a New York art gallery to enquire about the age of the people depicted in the painting he has a print of.
There's Mr. Lamb, one of only 13 people at Coalinga ever considered ready to be released into the community (having agreed to be castrated after molesting 50 kids), but so far they've failed to find anywhere suitable. One potential landlord backed out at the last minute when a rattlesnake was left on his porch in protest. The quiet, unassuming Lamb certainly sounds like he's been rehabilitated and doesn't pose a danger to kids, but then you have to wonder why we meet him making a Ferris Wheel out of paper...
Are these men perhaps suffering from arrested development and consider themselves children? Sadly, the documentary doesn't really tackle the mentality of paedophiles, it was more interested in the superficial oddity of a place like Coalinga -- where adults make sugar paper decorations for a Halloween party, then sing the Addam's Family theme tune together, apparently unaware of the lyrical creepiness given their background ("they're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky...")
And there's Mr. Yahn, a man who refuses to participate in the therapy sessions (which includes wearing a device to measure your erections when shown various sexual imagery), and has exhausted his legal appeals. He will now spend the rest of his life inside, adamant that he doesn't actually have a problem.
The documentary was non-sensationalist and interesting enough, but it was another example of an investigation that didn't really get to grips with anything. It was just a curious tour of a very strange place, that gave the paedophiles quite a sympathetic angle, and Louis looked unsure about how best to tackle the men he interviewed there. Should he confront them about their crimes and elicit some response that might prove cathartic for them, or the viewer? Or should he just interview them gently and see where it might lead?
Louis chose the latter, and most of the sex offenders came across as apologetic, sincere, quiet oddballs. Commendably, Louis did wonder if these men are play-acting, as they must surely be adept at appearing likeable in order to "groom" kids. And, considering only 13 people have actually been released into the community, is that a condemnation of the rehab process (some of the staff were almost as creepy as those they help), or a sign that most people don't want to leave?
Overall, this was certainly a fascinating glimpse into a weird crack of unsettling society, with the bespectacled Louis our unbiased guide. But I can't say it really changed my opinion about the subject-matter, or exposed anything very shocking.
19 April 2009
BBC2, 9pm
