ST. LOUIS • Kevin Wright's comeback was so notable, he was invited to speak at a banquet for volunteers at the Society of St. Vincent de Paul Criminal Justice Ministry. The ministry had helped Wright, and the nuns and caseworkers were heartened by what he had done after two stays in prison.

Wright spoke about how his mother, a factory worker, raised five boys on her own without welfare.

"She was brought up that you worked for what you had," he told the audience two years ago. "If you were able, you just didn't go along for a free ride."

True to his mother's spirit, Wright, after getting out of prison, got on with a temp agency and started working part time at QRS South Side Recycling. Machines sorted most of the trash, but human hands were needed to catch things on the line.

Wright stood out at the plant. He didn't pass out in the corner, like some ex-convicts who weren't asked back. He was dependable. He showed up. He learned.

After a few months, he became a full-time employee, despite his criminal background. The diabetic had health insurance, profit sharing, life insurance, vacation, and, best of all, lots of work hours.

"He was a great worker. He was an asset," said the former plant manager, Bob Rosener.

Wright was eventually promoted to night manager. He'd moved out of the St. Louis Community Release Center and into his own apartment.

But the roll he was on only lasted a year.

Phoenix-based Republic Services, one of the largest waste management companies in the country, bought the recycling plant in December 2010 and let Wright go. Rosener said Wright's criminal record was the problem, and he pleaded with management to make an exception, but they didn't budge.

It wasn't just any crime to overlook. Wright had molested an 11-year-old boy. On top of that, once he was out of prison, he went back six years later because he failed to register as a sex offender.

Someone like Wright poses a quandary for society.

He did his time in prison and now is trying to support himself. But child sex abuse is an unspeakable crime — the reason governments continue to crack down and restrict the movement of child sex offenders and the reason many companies don't want them on their payrolls.

Wright, 39, is also physically daunting. He's 6-foot-2, 330 pounds, and recently had a nasty scratch across the side of his face from a brawl with a relative.

He will always battle perception. It comes with the crime. Our collective fears are stoked each time there's publicity about the latest case. Wright is supposed to tell police every 90 days where he lives and works, while providing a recent photo and address online.

But perception aside, Wright will always be at risk of reoffending. Should his mind wander, therapists taught him to call somebody in a safety network to talk.

So what do we do with people like Kevin Wright?

"If we can't let people come back from prison, and not get the least desirable job of all, how are they ever going to be able to make it?" Sister Carleen Reck, of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, said of Wright.

As of Friday, Missouri's sex offender registry had 12,414 people, including 1,080 new registrations last year, the most since the system gained momentum in the early 1990s.

"When children are violated, as with other people, they have to live with that the rest of their lives," said Will Marling, executive director of the National Organization for Victim Assistance. "Registered offenders are experiencing a parallel."

There are 500 registered sex offenders within five miles of Marling's home in Virginia. There are so many, he said, but society hasn't figured out what to do with them. And, he said, there are still the ones who haven't been caught.

'HARD TO HAVE SYMPATHY'

Wright grew up in tiny Kinderhook, Ill., across the Mississippi River from Hannibal, Mo. He says he was abused as a boy but didn't think it affected him until he went through therapy later. He worked at Walmart and a factory before he ran into legal trouble.

Like most perpetrators, Wright knew his victim. He was convicted in 1996 of aggravated criminal sexual assault and abuse and served about three years. In 2006, he was convicted for failing to register as a sex offender in northeast Missouri. After he was released in late 2009, he decided to look for a fresh start in St. Louis.

Today, he's forbidden to loiter at playgrounds or live near schools or day-care centers.

It can be a challenge to find a place and a landlord willing to rent to sex offenders, so many tend to cluster in the same neighborhoods. Wright is one of four sex offenders registered on the same block of Folsom Avenue.

Every year, new municipal and state laws are proposed to tighten restrictions. Missouri, for instance, has a requirement for some offenders to stay inside on Halloween and post a sign on their front door that reads: "No candy or treats at this residence."

A pending bill in the state Legislature would disqualify sex offenders from serving on school boards. Another bill, sponsored by state Rep. Mark Parkinson, R-St. Charles, would check the citizenship status of registered sex offenders and require that any undocumented immigrants on the list be reported to federal officials. The bill passed in the House last week.

What about citizens like Kevin Wright?

"That's a hard position to be in as a policy maker," Parkinson said. "There is no black-and-white answer."

But he added: "It's kind of hard to have sympathy for a pedophile."

After Wright was laid off from QRS, he was on unemployment for several months before he got another job. He drives a white van now, mainly delivering kitchen and office supplies to businesses around the St. Louis region.

He likes the job. He likes to drive. He loads and pushes a two-wheel dolly with authority, often wishing clients that don't maintain eye contact to have a good day. But he doesn't have benefits, and, he said, he doesn't make enough to cover basic bills.

Wright is at risk of being on the move again. He's behind on rent.

Wright wishes he could have his old job back at the recycling plant. He was in a good place there.

Like the garbage he sorted, he had enough value to stay out of the dump.

Virginia Young of the Post-Dispatch contributed to this report.