Sexual misconduct by teachers in New Mexico is costly, not just to taxpayers but also to its young victims.

Ask Terry Pearson, an ex-cop and ex-magistrate whose granddaughter was molested in first grade by a substitute teacher.

"It can be devastating. There's no other word for it. It takes your whole world and it turns it upside down," said the Farmington man.

Over the past decade, at least $8.6 million has been paid out for sexual misconduct claims in 20 of New Mexico's 89 school districts.

And there's more in the pipeline. The New Mexico Public Schools Insurance Authority, which covers every school district but Albuquerque, accounts for $8.1 million of those payouts. But NMPSIA estimates that figure could grow to as much as $14 million, once pending cases are settled.

Albuquerque Public Schools has paid out about $550,000 over the past decade, according to an estimate from its Risk Management Department, which couldn't provide more precise numbers because of a recent switch in computer systems.

And recent incidents — such as an Albuquerque former substitute teacher accused of videotaping up the skirt of an elementary-school student — could lead to yet more claims. Two parents have filed a civil lawsuit against the district.

"If you're a predator, you want to go where there's prey, meaning schools," said Santa Fe psychologist Ned Siegel, who evaluates sex offenders and testifies in court.

Across the country, sexual misconduct allegations led states to take action against the licenses of 2,570 educators from 2001-05. That includes licenses that were revoked, denied and surrendered.

In New Mexico, 14 of the 55 actions against educators' licenses during that period involved allegations of sexual misconduct, according to the Public Education Department.

The figures were gathered as part of a seven-month investigation in which AP reporters sought records on teacher discipline in all 50 states and the District of Columbia.

New Mexico's problems have been worsened by a disconnect between school districts and state officials. Districts until recently were not explicitly required to tell the Public Education Department about teacher misconduct, according to Education Secretary Veronica Garcia.

Moreover, some districts signed confidentiality agreements with problem teachers, allowing them to move on to other districts without disclosure of their misdeeds.

"It's referred to as 'passing the trash,' " said Sammy Quintana, executive director of NMPSIA, which is required by law to defend such teachers in civil cases.

A law that took effect June 15 attempts to plug those loopholes. Districts must investigate alleged misconduct by school workers who are fired or quit, and then report to the Public Education Department, which can suspend or revoke licenses. Confidentiality agreements are out.

The department also has stopped its longtime practice of waiting until after criminal convictions to revoke licenses. Now, it's yanking them sooner.

"We've been a lot more aggressive about that and changed our practice," Garcia said.

NMPSIA also trains school workers about what conduct is appropriate and how to spot molesters, and encourages them to report possible problems with their colleagues.

That's a difficult hurdle, said Julie Garcia of Poms & amp; Associates, NMPSIA's insurance broker.

"Knowing what's inappropriate and then looking at somebody you think you know pretty well and saying, 'Whoa, there's something wrong with that person' — it's a hard leap," said Garcia, who conducts training sessions for school personnel.

New Mexico's problems were highlighted by the case of Ernest Dominguez, who was investigated — but never criminally charged — in Tucumcari in the late 1990s for allegedly molesting boys, then moved on to school districts in Espa & ntilde;ola and Santa Fe.

He has been indicted for allegedly molesting four boys in a Santa Fe elementary-school classroom in 2001 and 2002, when they were in fifth and sixth grades.

"I was outraged. ... Here we are putting all these kids at risk, and we know he's alleged to have done this before," said Deputy District Attorney Shari Weinstein, whose Santa Fe office is prosecuting Dominguez.

At least four federal lawsuits have been filed against school officials and Dominguez, whose teaching license wasn't revoked until 2006.

Three of the claims — on behalf of two boys in Tucumcari and three boys in Santa Fe — have been settled for a total of about $1.9 million, according to federal court records. A fourth is pending.

The criminal case, meanwhile, has been sidetracked by legal battles in a state appellate court.

At issue is whether the Tucumcari history can be introduced into his trial — the Court of Appeals said no — and whether a state district judge was right to whittle down the number of counts against him. That matter is pending.

Dominguez's lawyer, Tom Clark, who is handling the case for the public defender department, maintains his client is innocent and "a victim of mass hysteria regarding molestation in the schools."

Dominguez has Marfan syndrome, a connective tissue disease that gives him an odd appearance — he's tall and gaunt — and odd mannerisms, making him an easy target to pick on, Clark contends.

Among the costliest New Mexico cases was a federal jury's $3.2 million verdict in 2005 in a lawsuit against the Farmington school district and a former substitute teacher. The award was eventually negotiated down to $2.65 million.

Authorities accused Arthur Brokop, then 21, of fondling three first-grade girls on his lap in 2002 after dimming the classroom lights for a video.

In a plea agreement, Brokop — whose substitute license expired at about the same time — pleaded guilty to two counts of criminal sexual contact of a minor and went to prison.

All three girls sued; two of the cases were settled for about $300,000 apiece, according to federal court records, and the third went to trial, resulting in the large verdict.

Pearson said his granddaughter — whose case was settled — suffered when her friends, and even her teachers, treated her differently after she told on Brokop.

And although there was no trial, the publicity about the case, the numerous interviews with police and lawyers, and the questioning from friends was tough on the little girl, he said.

Her parents have since divorced. Like other young victims, she developed an inappropriately early interest in anything sexual, he also said.

"I've got a 12-year-old granddaughter that might as well be 40. ... She wasn't allowed to grow up the way she should have, and it's not her fault," Pearson said.

Last year, after Brokop's release from prison, Pearson picketed a doughnut shop where Brokop was working, which he objected was too near an elementary school.

Pearson said it was "my way of doing my part. ... Something is better than nothing."




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