The boy whose father set him on fire seven years ago in a twisted attempt to punish his ex-wife held a news conference to tell his newly paroled dad that he never wants to see him again.
"I wanted it to (be known) nationally that I never want to see my father again," David Rothenberg, 13, said at a news conference he held to tell his father, who was paroled Wednesday and presumably watched his son on television. "I wanted to make it clear to him."I think he still wants to be my father, but that can never be done again," he said. "If he was my real dad, he wouldn't act like he did."
The youngster, who refers to his father only by his first name, said he would be able to put the experience behind him only "when Charles dies."
David was 6 when Charles Rothenberg set him on fire in a Buena Park, Calif., motel room in 1983 after he and his ex-wife had argued over visitation rights. Burned over 90 percent of his body, David was severely disfigured but now lives a remarkably normal life.
David, while saying he is no longer afraid of his father, is adamant about never wanting to see him or talk to him again.
"I don't want to say anything to him," he said. "Charles doesn't understand very well. He still thinks I want to see him."
Rothenberg was freed from prison Wednesday and taken to a secret location, where he will be the most tightly controlled parolee in California history. Carrying two boxes of personal belongings, Rothenberg's only comment when he was freed was "I'm afraid and upset," a prison spokesman said.
Officials said he will live in an apartment and has a clerical job with a private company.
Escorted by two parole agents, Rothenberg was released shortly past midnight after serving 6 1/2 years in prison and was driven to his parole destination, which authorities said they were forced to keep secret because of intense public reaction to his crime. At least one California town refused to accept him.
"I don't want to know where he is," said David.
David was asleep when his father poured kerosene around his bed and set it on fire, burning him beyond recognition.
David, who said he has had nightmares in which his father comes after him, said he is comforted by assurances from the state that Rothenberg will be kept away from him.
"I'm not afraid. I think he's in good hands," said the teenager, who sleeps with a BB gun near his bed.
Tipton Kindel, a spokesman for the state Department of Corrections, said Rothenberg's three-year parole will be the most restrictive in California history, costing taxpayers more than $200,000 a year.
Much of the money will pay the salaries of three full-time parole agents who will alternate watching Rothenberg 24 hours a day to ensure he does not contact his son. He must also wear an electronic "leash," a transmitter that will signal authorities if he leaves his assigned area.
Rothenberg, 49, has written to local news organizations that his only reason for living is to see his son and "ask his forgiveness."