From Chat Room to Courtroom

A girl, 16, and her mother went through a security checkpoint Wednesday morning at a criminal courthouse. They noticed several young men milling about in the lobby. Both daughter and mother wondered and whispered: Is that one him? How about THAT one? Because neither had ever personally laid eyes on the guy they had come to see.

They knew his name was Jonathan, that he lived in Florida, and that he had begun a computer relationship with the girl when she was 14.

A detective was already waiting when they got to the courtroom. He had been in on the arrest when Jonathan flew to California to meet the girl.

It took a few moments before the mother and daughter spotted someone sitting by himself at the far end of their row.

“Oh my God,” the girl reacted. “That’s him?”

She studied the face of a guy who had once sent a picture of himself, who was so eager for pictures of her that he mailed a camera.

What her mother saw was a young man--not much more than a boy, really--meticulously dressed, shoes shined, suit and tie, good-looking, 22 years old, forlorn and alone. She hated to feel sorry for him, but she did.

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Something is often described as a parent’s “worst nightmare,” but there are so many nightmares to choose from now. Children now need to be warned about striking up a conversation on the Internet the same way they once were told not to climb in a stranger’s car or take candy.

A kid’s correspondence used to come through the mail, so a grown-up could see it--not steam it open to snoop, but at least be aware it exists. Or else your phone would ring. If a mature voice were to ask if your son or daughter was at home, you could ask back, “Who wants to know?”

Today, a stranger could be propositioning your kid, seated at a keyboard. Maybe he’s lying about his age. Maybe she’s lying about hers. One day, one suggests to the other that they meet.

A 41-year-old Palmdale sheriff’s deputy allegedly sent sexually explicit messages to “Laura,” an eighth-grader who turned out to be an FBI agent. A former top Disney executive, 34, is currently on trial for allegedly arranging by e-mail to meet someone at the Santa Monica Pier who said she was 13. She was an undercover deputy sheriff.

Some culprits get caught, but what of those who don’t?

A few nights ago, in the living room of a Granada Hills home, a family sat together recounting its own recent experience. What began as an innocent correspondence between two e-mailers 3,000 miles apart ended Wednesday morning with Beth Simon and her daughter, Genna Johnson, seeing for themselves how someone can go out of a chat room and into a courtroom.

Beth and Rob Simon are probably typical parents. She works in medical administration. He’s in manufacturing management. They expect their family to be close, but, as Rob says of his stepdaughter, “You try to respect her privacy. You’d like to know everything a child does, but how can you?”

When the e-mail began, Genna was 14 and staying in downstate Vista with her father. She and her mother weren’t on the best of terms. To enter an Internet chat room and click with a guy from Florida who seemed cool, it wasn’t like something Genna was dying to call her mom and share.

In time, though, Beth says, “He’d even phone Genna here at the house.”

Getting information from her daughter wasn’t easy. Genna admits she enjoyed e-mailing Jonathan and was curious. But eventually she told him she was 14.

“He told me maybe he should come here from Florida so we could get together and do something,” Genna remembers. “I didn’t realize right away what he meant by ‘do.’ ”

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This family was lucky. When Jonathan sent a package, Genna’s younger sister blurted that inside was a disposable camera. Confronted with this, Genna also disclosed that Jonathan was in his 20s.

He was arrested at a Burbank hotel where he told Genna they should meet. Jonathan this week pleaded guilty to unlawful sexually explicit contact with a minor and must register as a sex offender until a probationary period ends.

“I got a knot in my stomach, seeing him in court,” Beth Simon says. “Not because I was angry, but because I felt so sorry for him. He looked scared to death. I’m told his parents want nothing to do with him now. And yet I can’t feel too sorry for him, when I think of what could have happened.”

If not a parent’s worst nightmare, it was close.

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Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to him at Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles 90053. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com