Just six weeks after Dodd arrived, the local parole chief reached a stunning decision: Dodd's request to move to the state of Florida would be granted -- even though all of his parole conditions would no longer apply.
"He seemed like a person that wanted to do well," said Michael Quinata, Guam's chief parole officer. "I didn't sense that [he was going to reoffend] because he was very compliant."
Given what happened next, Quinata said: "I think we got played."
Six weeks out of prison for sexually abusing children, Dodd moved into a house in suburban Orlando. There, officials say, he seemed to be trying once again to befriend young children.
Jennifer Roberts, a grandmother who lived across the street, said Dodd called a young girl into his yard.
"My husband was test driving my motorcycle and he went around the corner and saw [Dodd] out there [talking] to our neighbor's little girl and he had a little puppy with him," she said. "And when my husband came back he said you better call the police."
Though the police came and spoke to Dodd, they did not put him on parole supervision. Sgt. Glen Hall of the Lake County Sheriff's office, in Tavares, Fla., said he had no legal authority to increase Dodd's supervision, as he said he was responsible for sex offender registry supervision only and had no parole authority.
"We did everything we could do as far as making sure he was in compliance, checking in on him," Hall said. "It's absolutely scary -- especially knowing his background. There's no doubt about it."
Hall said that he wouldn't have even known how to sound the alarm about Dodd's track record and admitted the system seemed to have completely failed in this case.
But this situation is not uncommon; of the more than 700,000 sex offenders in the U.S. today, 100,000 are missing, according to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
"It's very frustrating. There's concern. There are worries there without a doubt," Hall said of the parole system. "You know they've already committed these offenses one time. When are they gonna commit again?"
Dodd's case was about to get worse. In August 2007 -- about a year after getting out of prison -- he moved to Syracuse, N.Y., where he continued to display a worrisome interest in young children, a caseworker reported.
Judy Klenchik, who was Dodd's case manager at a homeless shelter, said he told her that he wanted to approach a young child on the street corner.
"Michael told me he saw the child standing on Gifford Street and he was concerned about that child and wanted to approach him," Klenchik recalled. "That was another really big red flag and concern."
Klenchik said she got truly alarmed when, a few months later, in December 2007, Dodd showed her a plane ticket to Cambodia, where he said he had a job teaching English to children.
Klenchik said she notified the parole board, but doesn't know what action they took.
"I don't know what they did when I notified them. I did everything that I could at that time to get the ball rolling to make that not happen," she said. "As far as I could go; I made the calls, I did what I had to do. I was praying that that plane wasn't going to leave for Cambodia."
But it did.
In Cambodia, Dodd was accused of attempting to arrange his marriage with a 14-year-old girl named Nang.