The criminal justice system and the social services sector that often tends to crime victims connect at several points as an assault or domestic-violence case makes its way to trial.

But they also can conflict with each other. Concerns about such a clash of interests have arisen with the city’s fledgling “safe house” for female victims of domestic violence, sexual assault and human trafficking. A story this week by Honolulu Star-Advertiser writer Rob Perez noted complaints from advocates that the program presents legal and ethical problems that should be addressed.

The safe house was officially dubbed the Honolulu Family Justice Center when it opened in September, after $6.63 million was invested to renovate and furnish it. The Makiki facility was modeled after centers in other cities that help victims by rounding up support services under one roof.

But now it’s morphed into a shelter that is not even accommodating families. Service providers are still available but brought in from the outside for the resident clients.

More to the point, it’s run by the city Department of the Prosecuting Attorney. This is an arrangement unmatched in other jurisdictions and one that, critics say, could have unintended consequences. City officials should assess the program’s demerits against any benefits registered in the months ahead.

City Prosecutor Keith Kaneshiro, likened the center to a witness protection program, but the comparison is not apt. The Witness Security Program is run by U.S. Marshals who are not focused on building the court case. The city’s safe house would do better with a similar degree of separation from the prosecution.

So far only four women are occupying the 20-unit center. Kaneshiro said he’s not worried because the word still needs to get out about the program.

The prosecutor, though, needs to take a closer look at why signups are lagging. The facility, which annually costs some $400,000 to run, is free to its clientele.

It may be slow to attract residents because only single women now are being admitted to the program. Kaneshiro said taking in women with children would cost far more.

City officials need to weigh whether this narrow focus diminishes the program’s effectiveness, shutting the door on too many victims who need help.

In addition, the residents must agree to constraints that essentially put too much of their lives on hold. They are rules designed at least as much to bolster the chances of a successful prosecution as to help women rebuild.

They can use no cellphones, laptops or other electronic devices, have no access to personal email, and cannot leave the grounds without an authorized escort. Visitors must have background checks, and even use of a house phone must be supervised.

This arguably could help the case and even insulate the victim against attack. But such severe limitations can work against her, too. Outside employment is difficult. Jobs that don’t mesh with these restrictions must be turned down.

Women agree to the rules and are free to quit the prosecution, Kaneshiro said, but then they also must leave the safe house. Given the level of their insecurity, this may not be a real choice for them. And it opens the possibility that their testimony could be faulted as being coerced.

There are other possible legal vulnerabilities experts have raised: Statements made to staff, employees of the prosecutor’s office, could be called into the trial as evidence for the defense, for example.

It’s too soon to know with certainty that such pitfalls overcome any protection for the women and for the prosecution they also want.

But when that first case reaches trial, city officials would be wise to review whether this model works as advertised. There may be a reason why other states have not followed the same path.