Hammel-Zabin - Conversations with a pedophile: in the interest of our children

There are three people in my life without whose presence this book would not have been possible. My mother, despite all obstacles, who has always been an example of strength and creativity. My mainstay, Marty Goldray, who helped me place a level of importance on both myself and my work. And my dear friend, Stewart Gabel, who not only helped me enormously both professionally and personally, but also welcomed me so warmly into his wonderful familyI am eternally grateful.

There are also exquisite personal friends and colleagues who have helped me become whole over the years to all of you I am eternally grateful. I would also like to thank my friend, Lisa Bielawa for helping me make my words coherent. And to Alan X. I appreciate your honesty and hope that this rare illumination into pedophilia from our conversations will help protect children in the future, a goal which I know we share.

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I first met the man I call Alan in the late 1980s. Since then, Ive been over that meeting in my mind a thousand times trying to imagine how I might describe it to someone elsewondering what there was about that particular afternoon, this particular prisoner, that was so very different.

At the time, I was working as a music therapist in a maximum-security unit. In my years of specialized training and experience in my practice, I have seen extensive evidence that music can serve as a powerful form of communication and self-expression when conventional therapies fail. The lyrics of a particular ballad, the strains of a half-forgotten lullaby, the steady rhythm of a hand-held drumall of these can provide a critical means of accessing and expressing feelings where ordinary conversation cannot.

That was certainly true in my first encounter with Alan. Perhaps we were somehow drawn to each other because he seemed as out of place as I did among the brash, arrogant younger prisoners and the indifferent, cynical guards and staff.

To the rest of the unit, we must have seemed an unusual pair. Thin, rather frail, Alan was considerably older than the other men. His wire-rimmed glasses and graying hair made him look more like a college professor than a criminal. The withdrawn, downward cast of his eyes and mouth betrayed a severe state of depression, even despair. I was even more of an anomaly on the unitin my late twenties, but petite in a way that made me look younger, with long blond hair cascading down my back. And I always carried the tools of my tradea set of hand drums and a guitar.

In those days, even getting onto the forensic unit was something of a challenge. I was an attractive female entering a maximum-security, all-male facility Many of the guards made no attempt to conceal their hostile feelings toward me. The instruments I used and I myself were subject to searches. I needed to walk a fine line, because in prison, its the guards who make the rules. Too much familiarity was dangerous for me; being aloof, on the other hand, could get me in even bigger trouble.

Each of the prisoners in this particular unit was being evaluated for mental illness prior to his hearing. Alan was no exception. I could see him following me with his eyes as I made my way slowly through the day room, introducing myself as the music therapist. I came to the corner where Alan sat alone, isolated from the guffaws and crude jokes of the rest of the men. I stood by his side and he never took his eyes from the guitar.

If you want to understand me, listen to my music, Alan said in a voice so soft that it was little more than a whisper.

The staff attendant nearby shot me a startled glance, and I was confused by his reaction. I took another long look at the man who sat in front of me, clasping and unclasping his hands as he stared at the instruments. What I didnt know was that Alan had refused to converse with any other professionals until that afternoon. In fact, although he had already been on the unit for some time, it wasnt until I stood in front of him, guitar in hand, that Alan spoke spontaneously to anyone at all.