A few years ago while attending a gala at a Buckhead hotel, I noticed an elegantly framed bulletin in the women’s restroom. It provided a phone number to call if the reader was a victim of sex slavery.
One would think sordid, deviant behavior of that nature would take place in the hour motels far from the highbrow crowd. Yet, sex trafficking – a $9. 5 billion criminal enterprise – happens right under our nose.