'Street justice' for those who assault children

The voice at the other end of the phone line was vibrating with outrage.

"How could nobody know about him?" the man shouted. "How could the police and media not know about this guy, so they could warn the public?"

He wasn't the first member of the public to call the media to vent about accused child-snatcher Danial Gratton, and he certainly won't be the last. The whole city has been in a tailspin ever since Gratton was arrested on Monday.

The caller said he had no connection whatsover to the case. He didn't live in the area, he wasn't related to the victims and he didn't know the accused.

"I know I'm going off on you. I'm not even sure why I'm calling," he said apologetically, spitting out his final words like nails before slamming down the phone. "But. I'm. Just. So. P---ed. Off!"

Gratton was living in Edmonton under a long-term supervision order after pleading guilty in 2002 to molesting six children under the age of nine.

Earlier this week he was charged in connection with two separate child abductions that happened in a 48-hour span over the weekend.

On Wednesday night about 500 members of Edmonton's glitterati gathered in a hotel ballroom to rub shoulders and raise money at an Edmonton Police Foundation gala, which supports special police projects that might be outside the department's regular budget.

The foundation supports several initiatives that address child sexual abuse from catching the perpetrators to helping children recover from the trauma of being molested.

Merely mentioning one of the weekend's victims was enough to send a ripple of emotion through the well-heeled crowd. A few tears welled up.

From Edmonton society's stratosphere to its sub-basement, it seems no one is immune to the sense of outrage.

After spending a few nights in the Edmonton Remand Centre, Gratton showed up for his first appearance in court sporting a bruised face and black eye, and as he was led back to the prisoners' holding area, shouts and jeers could be heard from the cells.

It's not clear where his injuries came from, but here's an educated guess: among inmates, anyone suspected of being a sex offender - particularly if he's suspected of preying on children - is labeled a "skinner" and subjected to merciless, vicious persecution.

Those charged with sex offences are usually kept in protective custody, but the people who want to hurt them have nothing but time on their hands, so they patiently wait for even a split-second opportunity to dole out what they like to call "street justice."

Thomas Svekla, an out-of-control crackhead who killed Theresa Innes in High Level in 2006, was rumoured to have been beaten several times by other inmates while in remand awaiting his trial.

Same goes for Joseph Laboucan, who masterminded the luring, rape and murder of teenager Nina Courtepatte in 2005.

I met an inmate who was released from remand the day of Laboucan's conviction. He told me he saw the killer get attacked as he returned from court to await his transfer to prison.

"That (expletive) is gonna get his," he said with a wide grin.

When I asked the man what he was doing in the remand centre, he waved his hand dismissively.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "All you need to know is, I'm no skinner."