When child sexual abuse comes to light, the refrain is often hauntingly familiar: “I wish I would have said something. I had a bad feeling.” That gut instinct, shared by concerned adults, underscores a painful reality—early intervention could have prevented the abuse. But without a clear legal framework, that hesitation too often turns into inaction.
Grooming, the deliberate pattern of behavior predators use to gain access to children, build trust, and erode boundaries, is a well-documented precursor to sexual abuse. Yet in most states, the legal system only steps in after abuse has occurred—by which point the damage is irreversible. That’s why advocates argue that criminalizing grooming at the federal level is essential, rather than relying on a patchwork of state statutes that leave children’s safety dependent on geography.
“Predators do not operate within neat boundaries, and our laws should not assume they do,” said Laura Wills-Coppelman, co-founder of ICKYSchools.org, a grassroots advocacy group focused on student safety in Kentucky. She noted that grooming often feels like attention or validation to a child, masking its predatory nature. To outside adults, however, red flags like excessive one-on-one time or unnecessary physical contact may emerge—but without a shared legal definition of when concern becomes actionable, good-faith adults feel powerless to intervene.
Kentucky recently took a significant step forward. A bill sponsored by state Rep. Marianne Proctor (R) and signed into law by Gov. Andy Beshear (D) last month criminalizes grooming of minors, marking a shift from reactive to proactive intervention. The legislation passed both chambers with unanimous bipartisan support, a rare achievement in today’s polarized climate. “This is not about politics,” Wills-Coppelman said. “It is about whether we are willing to use the law to address the problem at its earliest stage.”
The Kentucky law joins a growing number of states that have enacted similar measures, acknowledging that sexual abuse rarely begins with a single act. Instead, it unfolds through a pattern of behavior over time, often involving adults in positions of trust—within schools, churches, and other institutions. The law’s supporters argue that early intervention is not only possible but necessary, drawing parallels to how other crimes are prosecuted: stalking, harassment, and attempted crimes all allow legal action before harm is done.
Critics worry about potential overreach, but Wills-Coppelman emphasized that a clear, evidence-based definition of grooming can preserve due process while enabling intervention. “Modern research shows that grooming follows behaviors that develop over time and warrant earlier action,” she said. The goal is to stop abuse before it starts, not to punish innocent behavior.
The push for a federal standard comes as other child safety measures gain traction. For instance, a Senate panel unanimously backed a bill to restrict AI chatbots for children, reflecting growing concern about online predators. Meanwhile, state attorneys general are leading crackdowns on tech giants over child safety as Congress stalls on comprehensive legislation. These efforts highlight the fragmented nature of current protections.
Wills-Coppelman’s advocacy began after a grassroots effort in one Kentucky community revealed broader truths about institutional failures during the early stages of grooming. Her organization now calls for a federal standard that would establish consistent protections nationwide, ensuring that a child’s safety doesn’t depend on where they live. “Waiting for certainty is what allows abuse to happen,” she said.
As more states act, the momentum builds for Congress to follow suit. The Kentucky law offers a model: bipartisan, evidence-based, and focused on prevention. For advocates, the next step is clear—criminalize grooming at the federal level, and don’t let geography determine a child’s protection.
