Aqui, 53, a serial rapist, arrived in February after spending nearly 20 years in prison and a decade in the state's controversial sex-offender civil commitment program, under which predators can be held indefinitely if they are deemed dangerous. He could get a roommate later this year, depending on how another offender progresses in treatment.

But for now, the residence is all his.

The state opened the Secure Community Transition Facility in response to court rulings that said authorities had to find a way for offenders to graduate to programs less restrictive than the Special Commitment Center on McNeil Island. It's one of a very few halfway houses in the state for sex offenders.

Aqui, who has admitted to 15 rapes, is kept behind 12-foot-high walls and a 1,700-pound magnetic door. Twenty-six cameras monitor the six-bed facility, which has a dozen staff members plus a police cruiser parked outside. It also has a backup generator, radio system and a tempered-glass surveillance booth overlooking the home's central living room.

He barbecues in the building's courtyard, where he hopes to plant a 4-foot-by-4-foot garden. He jogs every morning on a treadmill and uses a stationary bicycle in the living room, according to a recent article about the facility in The Spokesman-Review of Spokane. There's a large TV with satellite channels, some of them blocked to avoid arousing him.

A few potted plants dot the living room. Consumer Reports magazines, the Wall Street Journal, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Seventh-day Adventist magazines, Forbes and a book titled "How to Clean Practically Anything" are piled on a table.

Aqui won't speak to reporters, but facility manager Tabitha Yockey said he enjoys researching the stock market and tying fishing flies, which are sold by his wife, whom he married while he was in prison. Aqui attends a weekly counseling session with a sex offender treatment provider, as well as a weekly group meeting.

A radio-toting escort accompanies him whenever he leaves. He is allowed to go shopping, to restaurants, to the library and to look for work. He wears an electronic monitoring anklet at all times, and whenever he does leave, staffers photograph him, so they can immediately describe his clothing to police if he flees.

He's been trained as a baker, landscaper, sheet metal worker and data entry clerk, but no one wants to hire him.

The cost of the facility baffles some, including Jim Hines, a Gig Harbor man who has lobbied for years for tougher penalties for sex offenders.

"When you see this beautiful building - one guy, the cost, law enforcement, the TV cameras - it's just crazy," Hines said. "Nobody's comfortable with these guys getting out, but even to me, this doesn't make a lot of sense."

Hines would like to see all Level 3 sex offenders - thousands of men - on electronic GPS monitoring and released into communities after they serve their sentences.

"We owe it to our kids and communities to keep those most dangerous people on a short leash," Hines said. "But to put them in a halfway house like this, I think, is silly. Does society feel safe that we're spending $2 million on one guy?"

There are 238 sex predators in the civil confinement program. So far, 11, including Aqui, have been placed in halfway houses or other community homes. Four live in a halfway house on McNeil Island. Three others share a home in Snohomish County. One, suffering from severe medical problems, is in an adult family home in King County. The other two are in Mason and Kitsap counties.