It’s been open only six months, but the Honolulu prosecutor’s safe house for female victims of domestic violence, sex assault and human trafficking already is a flashpoint for criticism locally and nationally.

At the center of the controversy is the prosecutor’s policy of providing secured shelter in exchange for the women’s testimony against their alleged abusers.

No other county prosecutor or district attorney in the nation does that.

To stay in the Honolulu apartment complex, which has around-the-clock security, restricted access and video monitors throughout, the single women approved for the voluntary program must cooperate in the criminal prosecution and follow strict rules, which prosecutors say are necessary to protect the victims and others at the facility.

The victims, for instance, cannot leave the gated grounds without an authorized escort, possess cellphones or laptops, have access to email, or get visits from people who have not passed a criminal background check and been preapproved.

If a woman subsequently decides against testifying, she will be asked to leave the safe house.

Victim advocates and legal experts locally and nationally say the city program undermines the integrity of the criminal justice system, raises questions about coerced testimony, and goes against what are considered best practices when dealing with women suffering from abuse.

“It’s a terrible idea,” said Lynn Rosenthal, a Washington, D.C., consultant and former White House adviser to the Obama administration on policies addressing violence against women. “It really turns the concept of how you support and help victims on its head. To dangle this carrot of safe housing, it’s just not appropriate and very problematic.”

“This violates everything we know to be best practices for helping victims of domestic violence,” added Rene Renick, vice president of programs and emerging issues with the National Network to End Domestic Violence in Washington. “It’s hard to start saying what’s wrong — there are so many things.”

But the project’s chief architect, city Prosecutor Keith Kaneshiro, who was lauded as a pioneer and hero by city representatives when the safe house opened in September, says there always will be naysayers when something new and different is tried.

“Let’s give it a chance to play itself out and see how it works,” Kaneshiro told the Honolulu Star-Advertiser.

He said the program, akin to witness protection, is meant to keep women safe while the criminal cases against their alleged abusers are pursued. The women are allowed to stay free of charge for up to two years, a time frame in which the cases generally will be adjudicated. Extensions are possible.

“The biggest need for these victims and witnesses is safety,” Kaneshiro said. “The safety issue is the major thing, and that’s what we’re trying to address.”

Given the complicated dynamics of domestic violence cases, it is not uncommon for victims to recant their allegations or refuse to cooperate with prosecutors. A woman’s fear of retaliation by her abuser is among the reasons commonly cited.

Kaneshiro said 80 percent to 90 percent of cases his office handles result in recantations or refusals to cooperate, including some in which women are in shelters run by nonprofits.

Citing those statistics, Kaneshiro said the usual way of handling the prosecutions wasn’t working. “We’ve got to change things.”

Changed plans

The plan to open a Honolulu safe house actually started as something else.

In 2010, then-Prosecutor Peter Carlisle, Kaneshiro’s predecessor, secured nearly $400,000 in federal grant money to plan what was called a family justice center.

Such centers have been established around the country and house services for domestic violence victims in one location, addressing a common complaint that the traditional system is too fragmented and bureaucratic to effectively deal with the many challenges victims face.

With the help of San Diego-based consultants, representatives from the city, police, courts, service providers and survivor groups met multiple times to discuss the proposed project. Trips were taken to mainland cities to tour family justice centers, and a strategic plan for the Honolulu project was produced in December 2012.

But what finally opened in September surprised — and disappointed — some who participated in the planning.

“It’s nothing like what we spent years meeting and planning for,” said Marci Lopes, who until recently was the executive director of the Hawaii State Coalition Against Domestic Violence.

Kaneshiro, however, said his project embraces the concept of providing services in one location. But in this case, the providers come to the safe house, he added. Services such as counseling and drug treatment are available. Job training is provided as well.

‘Distorting’ the system

While advocates and legal experts laud the intent of the program, they say a prosecutor-run facility is fraught with potential ethical, legal and logistical problems, particularly because what is in the best interests of an abused woman does not necessarily align with what is in the best interests of a prosecutor seeking a conviction.

The experts note that the roles of prosecutor and housing provider normally are separate, and mixing them creates an unusual blending in which the defense can reasonably argue that the shelter-for-testimony requirement can have a coercive effect.

“I can see blowback,” said University of Southern California law professor Rebecca Lonergan, who has 20 years’ experience as a prosecutor. “I can see multiple problems with it.”

Barry Pollack, president of the National Association of Criminal Defense Attorneys, said exchanging housing for cooperation “really distorts the criminal justice system in a very serious way.”

If a defendant were to provide housing to a supporting witness, the government would charge the defendant with obstruction of justice, according to Pollack. Yet the Honolulu prosecutor is doing the same thing — providing a benefit in exchange for cooperation, he added. “You simply can’t pay for testimony.”

Kaneshiro agreed that he is providing a benefit in exchange for testimony. But he said what he is doing is no different from what happens when federal marshals provide safe houses to threatened witnesses planning to testify in mafia cases.

Although the marshals are not with the U.S. Attorney’s Office, whose lawyers actually prosecute the cases, the marshals are part of the federal law enforcement team, according to Kaneshiro.

He also said the women understand when they volunteer for the safe-house program that the prosecutor’s goal is to obtain a conviction of their abusers.

“We’re not in the business of providing social services,” Kaneshiro told the newspaper. “We’re in the business of prosecution.”

And prosecutors, he said, can do a better job than nonprofit shelter operators in protecting the women who are planning to testify.

But advocates say the extra measures the prosecutor takes to protect the women, such as strictly controlling who they can talk to and where they go, can create impediments to the victims’ recovery from trauma.

Women in abusive relations typically lose power and control over many aspects of their lives, become dependent on their abuser financially and emotionally, and are isolated from their outside support network. In some ways, the advocates say, the safe house environment imposes similar power and control issues.

“What they’re doing is replicating what these women experienced in a battered relationship,” said Renick, the Washington advocate. “It’s absolutely wrong on lots of levels.”

Kaneshiro said the rules are designed for one purpose — to keep the women safe — and the women can exit the program at any time. “If they’re disenchanted, if they don’t want to be in the program, they can leave and we won’t hold them,” he said.

Usage remains low

Since the safe house opened in September, only four women have moved in, leaving most of the 20 apartments empty. The four are still there because none of their cases — a mix of felonies and misdemeanors — has gone to trial yet.

Some say the low usage reflects a deep-seated distrust that many domestic violence victims in Hawaii have of the law enforcement and criminal justice system.

Kaneshiro said he isn’t concerned about the usage because the program is new and he expects more women to participate as they learn more about it.

His office is considering only single women for the program because of limited resources. Taking in women with children would add significantly to the cost. “We just don’t have the resources to protect everybody,” he said.

Strong political support

The safe house, which will cost the city about $400,000 to $500,000 annually to run, received strong backing from Mayor Kirk Caldwell and the City Council.

“This was an easy thing for the Council to support,” then-Council Chairman Ernie Martin said during the opening ceremony in September. “It was the right thing to do.”

Councilwoman Ann Kobayashi, also at the opening, called Kaneshiro a hero for spearheading the project, which she said marked a wonderful start to solve the problem of violence against women. And Caldwell told the audience he was proud that the city opened the first facility of its kind in the nation, crediting Kaneshiro and his team for the achievement.

But advocates described the distinction as dubious.

“You would be hard pressed to find any DA in America to say it’s a great idea to run a housing complex for domestic violence victims,” said Casey Gwinn, a former prosecutor, co-founder of the family justice center movement and co-author of the 2012 strategic report for Honolulu. Gwinn recently wrote Kaneshiro expressing “profound concerns” about the existing facility, which was recently renamed the Honolulu Prosecutor’s Safe House. It opened as the Honolulu Family Justice Center.

Asked why no other prosecutor has opened a similar safe house, Kaneshiro said, “Nobody has thought of it. When I talk to them, they say, ‘This is a good idea. We wish we had something like this. We never thought of it.’”

One woman who is thankful the city opened the safe house lives there now. The woman, who asked not to be identified for safety reasons, told the Star-Advertiser that she feels a lot safer at the facility than when she stayed at local shelters.

She said the restrictions can be frustrating, making her feel like she has lost contact with the outside world. She said she can’t read the newspaper, check email or use her cellphone and was unable to accept two job offers because of her safe house stay. She also lost contact with two friends who didn’t want to be subjected to the criminal background check.

But the abuse victim said the sacrifices will be worth it once her alleged assailants are convicted. She’s convinced that will happen. “I’ll have my life back, and I won’t have to look over my shoulder anymore,” she said.