Jonathan Pincus, "Base Instincts" (2001).

There are numerous theories as to why certain individuals commit terrible deeds, and through my extensive reading in the true crime genre, I've encountered many of them. As you are probably aware, Americans are particularly drawn to the idea that "evil" causes the unwary to strike out against their fellow humans. According to this perspective, the devil makes them do it. This explanation reinforces their belief that man is best served by seeking guidance in the Lord. It also appears to justify a general societal orientation toward punishment, rather than treatment or prevention. There are "victims" and "perpetrators" and it is easy to determine who is who. People are endowed by their Creator with "free will" and are solely responsible for the consequences of their actions.

I'm not totally unsympathetic to this characterization. I sympathize with those who have a fully developed sense of justice. While I shy away from descriptors like "good" and "evil", it is often quite clear that some of the people in our midst wish to do us harm. I have no desire to see the death penalty eliminated. I think the ultimate focus should be on identifying the ne'er-do-wells and applying every strategy to minimize their ability to cause social discord. There should be no tolerance for any individual that seeks to force their will on another by violence. That role belongs to society as a whole, and is determined by a process involving "consensus" and "democracy". In other words, it's appropriate for public debate- not private action.

Still I have no doubt that prevention is the most effective way of decreasing the incidence of violent crime. Unfortunately we've entered an era more interested in reactionary responses than proactive measures. Cries for retribution surround us as the complexity and chaos of our environment increases. Anti-intellectualism is a growing force in the United States, and people seem less willing to participate in objective analysis. The results are rampant inefficiency in the criminal justice system and social regression. Because of these threats, I wish more professionals involved in law enforcement (and especially those working in the court system) would read Jonathan Pincus' Base Instincts.

The central idea behind Pincus' study is that violent crime is the result of a coincidence of factors that includes neurological damage to the brain, abuse during childhood, and mental illness (such as paranoia, mood disorders, etc.). This may sound like common sense, but it is surprising how many people refuse to consider the ramifications of NOT taking into account these factors. So many are looking for the magic bullet, or the unifying theory that can explain every criminal action. I understand that temptation, but it is at its root simplistic and naive. The suggestion that one must decide between "nature" or "nurture" components does more harm than good. They are quite obviously not mutually exclusive.

Jonathan Pincus is no "mere" social philosopher, but rather a practicing neurologist at the Georgetown University Hospital. He has conducted in-depth research with a diverse range of murderers. He has experience with serial killers, mass murderers, and those violent individuals we have been fortunate enough to arrest before they could graduate into one of those first two categories. Throughout his book, he covers the importance of social histories, neurological examination, and psychiatric testing. There are sections throughout that present terribly disturbing firsthand accounts of violent actions. Gradually he focuses the reader on the importance of confronting child abuse, as he identifies that strategy as the one containing the most possibilities for success.

I recommend Base Instincts for any serious reader with a strong stomach and an unflinching commitment to confronting dark realities.

David Fincher, "Zodiac" (2007).

There are some American film lovers that will insist that director David Fincher is an auteur. His hyper-stylized and frenzied movies have captivated the ADHD generation. He has made a handful of successful thrillers, including Se7en (1995), The Game (1997), Fight Club (1999), and Panic Room (1992). In the process he has amassed a huge and loyal fanbase. His early development prepared him well for the role he now fills in our cultural landscape. He started off working for George Lucas' Industrial Light and Magic. He then produced a commercial for the American Cancer Society that featured a fetus smoking a cigarette. This brought him to the attention of the film industry, and gave folks a hint of his developing aesthetic.

Fincher has also directed numerous music videos for Propaganda Films. Notable among his clients were George Michael, Billy Idol, Nine Inch Nails, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Aerosmith, and The Rolling Stones. This work proved that Fincher could display comfort and confidence while at the helm of a very large budget. He was subsequently tagged to make Aliens 3 (1992), a project he would later publicly disavow due to creative differences with 20th Century Fox. After this experience he went on to produce the aforementioned series of films, which propelled him into his current status. He is known to take on challenging stories, and commit to an unflinching depiction of oftentimes sordid material.

I've always viewed Fincher with skepticism. I've felt that he undermines his own promise with melodrama and elaborate special effects. While his films are usually good entertainment, there is always at least one 'groaner moment' which keeps the work from ascending to the level of art. With that perspective, I began watching Zodiac (his latest movie) with reservations. I had read some good reviews from sources I trust, but could not imagine being wholly satisfied with a Fincher picture. My preconceptions seemed to be confirmed in the first half hour of this serial killer flick. While we watch the tense lead-up to the first on-screen murder, we are suddenly subjected to the rising volume of period rock-and-roll. It really does feel as if Fincher has flash backed to his time with MTV.

Even if I did find a hint of crass exploitation in the soundtrack, I resolved to make it through the 157-minute running length of Zodiac. I was familiar with the story, having read Kelleher and Van Nuys' This is the Zodiac Speaking. I wanted to see just how much fealty Fincher would have to the historical source material. It didn't necessarily bode well that all of the killings were portrayed in the first hour of the film. I wondered what the director could have to fill the rest of the time. I was mildly pleased to see the story transform from a series of violent vignettes to a brooding study of growing obsession. The Zodiac case kept much of California on the edge of abject terror for almost half a decade. Fincher's approach seemed refreshing.

By the end of the movie I was ready to give Fincher some long withheld credit. Not only was he able to assemble a great cast of major and minor players (including Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey, Jr., Jake Gyllenhall, Chloe Sevigny, Anthony Edwards, Elias Koteas, Adam Goldberg, Clea Duvall, and John Carroll Lynch), but he was able to include roles that gave them something to chew on. It was refreshing to see that Fincher could include characterization in his film-making toolbox. His trademark atmosphere was present without being overwhelming, and there were only a few moments of obvious excess. It makes me feel better about the rumor that he has agreed to adapt Charles Burns' excellent art comics series, Black Hole. That material is too good to see it marred by an immature sensibility.

Harold Schechter, "The Mask of Red Death" (2004).

I was familiar with Harold Schechter as a recognized expert in the study of serial killers. I had seen him appear in a few documentaries, including one concerning his artist-friend Joe Coleman, and another that detailed the phenomenon of collecting serial killer art. For the hipper, more literary crowd interested in the dark psychology of accomplished murderers, it seems like Schechter is the go-to guy. I've found his perspectives to be fairly convincing. He is absolutely fascinated with the grisly details of crime, but he tends to shy away from elaborate psychosexual explanations for murderous behavior. He seems to know his way around the psychopathic mind, and clearly has the type of non-judgmental attitude required to truly understand extreme violence.

While reading The Serial Killer Files: The Who, What, Where, How, and Why of the World's Most Terrifying Murderers (2003), I had to wonder about Schechter's background. He certainly seemed like an authoritative source, but how had he come across his knowledge? Did he have a law enforcement background? That would give him a deep understanding of the investigatory process that identifies and categorizes aberrant behavior. Or was he a mental health professional? Maybe he had experience with examining or treating killers? The truth is a bit strange. Schechter is a professor of American Culture and Literature at Queens College of the City University of New York.

His profession doesn't really explain how he acquired his particular interests. However it does shed light on one of his sidelines- he has written a series of 'historical fictions' employing the iconic poet Edgar Allan Poe as the protagonist. This strange approach puts Poe in the role of detective, trying to sort out the facts of a series of horrific murders in mid-19th Century New York City. In this adventure, Poe meets up with a series of other prominent figures of the age- such as P.T. Barnum, Tom Thumb, and James Gordon Bennett, Sr. (the founder and publisher of the New York Herald). Schechter even has Poe teaming up with one of the biggest celebrities of the day, Christopher "Kit" Carson.

The writer and the explorer make for strange bedfellows. Schechter writes Poe as if he was a pretentious prat, giving him high-falutin' dialog that often distracts from the flow of the narrative. Instead of merely being gloomy and taciturn, Poe is represented as being a flowery dandy, who never misses an opportunity to slag a fellow writer. Meanwhile Carson is portrayed as a one-dimensional cartoon character. He's a plain-talking superhero, who saves the day so many times that he might as well be the second coming of Jesus Christ. In fact all of the characters are drawn so simplistically that Schechter's story loses a lot of its atmosphere. And that's rather a shame, because there is a lot in this book.

An undertaking like The Mask of Red Death is by its very nature quite perilous. Our history books have already colored these well-known figures with distinct impressions. The well-informed reader brings a fairly solid set of assumptions about their personalities and motivations. We have an intuitive sense of how we would expect them to act, and what they would care about. It's risky to try to put words in their mouths, and especially difficult to present a convincing account of how they may have spoken to each other. As soon as a hint of doubt is inadvertently introduced, we remove ourselves from the setting. It takes an extremely deft hand to avoid causing such a reaction. While Schechter is obviously articulate and knowledgeable, I don't think he was quite up to this challenge.

Darcy O'Brien, "The Hillside Stranglers"

Despite the beacon of joy that has recently arrived in my life, I still find myself inexplicably drawn to darker materials. I've told myself that I'm going to lay off the true crime genre, but it's more difficult than I thought it might be. It is actually getting harder to explain why I like reading this type of book in the first place. I suppose I could offer some pretentious theory about the totemic nature of defending oneself with the artifacts of killers. Maybe in some small way I am de-fanging the fear that accounts of such extreme behavior invoke. Or alternatively, in some ugly but indisputable way, I find a perverse satisfaction in learning about what other human beings have been capable of throughout history. Perhaps it reinforces my own sense of internal restraint and humanity.

For whatever reason, I chose to read Darcy O'Brien's account of the "Hillside Stranglers". Angelo Buono and Kenneth Bianchi were convicted of killing ten women in California in the late 70's. They were cousins of Italian-American descent, and seemed to have fueled one another's worst instincts. They shared a hatred for women, and an aggravated lack of compassion for other people. Before almost every incident of murder they perpetrated, they visited violent sex and torture upon their victims. Their crimes inflamed the entire city of Los Angeles with paranoia and panic, and they evaded justice for their actions for far too long. Unfortunately they both received life sentences instead of the death penalty. While Buono died in prison of a heart attack in 2002, Bianchi is currently incarcerated in Washington state.

What makes the case of the Hillside Stranglers so interesting is the interplay between the killers. It is widely thought that Buono was the dominant partner, yet Bianchi continued to kill on his own after being forced out of California by his cousin. Bianchi was actually caught first, after slaying two women in Bellingham, Washington. At first he tried to fake a multiple personality disorder under hypnosis, but he was eventually discredited in a dispute between psychiatrists. He only implicated Buono as part of a plea bargain that ended up saving his own life. Even though he had agreed to testify against Angelo Buono- he continued to lie through his court appearances, and almost sabotaged the trial with his unreliable participation. Fearing a jury's potential distrust of Bianchi's credibility, the District Attorney made a motion to dismiss the charges against Buono. If not for an unconventional decision by the presiding judge (an order to deny the prosecutor's motion), Buono would have walked on the charges of multiple murder.

Darcy O'Brien explains in his forward that he knew he needed to write The Hillside Stranglers in order to tell the stories of the traditionally ignored participants in the events- primarily the investigators, the victims and their family members. He does describe several of the murders in detail, and justifies this choice by explaining the necessity of portraying the horror of the crimes themselves, as well as the cruelty of Buono and Bianchi. Apparently he pieced together his accounts of these events from tapes that various parties made with Bianchi after his capture. I have no idea how O'Brien has reconstructed entire conversations that no one besides the accused men (and the victims) ever heard, or on what he based his analysis of the intricacies of their relationship. In fact the author doesn't include any endnotes, sources or references. This is a glaring omission, and makes me doubt the content of his book.

There seems to be a very specific agenda on O'Brien's mind. He is particularly laudatory of the detectives and sheriffs from Los Angeles. At every step he goes out of his way to praise their honor and integrity. We can only rely on our own perceptions about people, along with suspicions that some things are being left unsaid, to challenge O'Brien's idealistic depictions of these men. One officer in particular has left his family after undergoing a torrid affair with someone involved in the case, yet O'Brien still manages to portray him as completely compassionate and selfless in his drive to prosecute Bianchi and Buono. It is continuously suggested that this character considers "stepping over the line" into abuse and other forms of unprofessional conduct- and it seems like O'Brien regrets the fact that he didn't. The author repeatedly laughs over this same officer's repeated put-downs of women he doesn't like. At one point he publicly calls a defense attorney a "cunt"... and then explains his choice of words by suggesting that she "likes it". All of this while simultaneously focusing on the misogyny of the Stranglers.

O'Brien constantly pines for the "olden days"when things were simpler, and there weren't so many pesky protections for those accused of crimes. He is not mistaken in his assessment of Buono and Bianchi- they are/were complete scum. Yet O'Brien's habit of furnishing all the cops with white hats seems neither appropriate nor particularly convincing. This is not a black-and-white world. It never has been. It is a shame that a reasonably-skilled writer felt such a pressing need to deliver so much stilted moralizing.

Serial Killer Art. Julian Hobbs, "Collectors" (2000)

Because I have interests in both stories of true crime and outsider art, it's natural that I would seek a way to merge the two. It's not difficult to find the connection, as artwork by incarcerated criminals has certainly found its market niche over the last twenty or so years. This shouldn't be too surprising, as "cults of personality" have grown up around the most prominent of society's lawbreakers. A truly heinous class of "evildoer" has been comprehensively studied since the 70's- that of the serial killer. Around these extreme men (for they are mostly male) have gathered "groupies", as if they were rock stars instead of murderers. These fanatics try to establish correspondence with their heroes, and many of them have persuaded their favorites to create and send them poems and artwork.

Truth be told, much of the artistic product of serial killers is outright garbage. One might make the mistake of assuming that such personalities would have vivid imaginations capable of depicting dark fantasies characterized by gore and fright. The reality is much more mundane. John Wayne Gacy (who tortured, murdered, and buried 33 young men in the basement of his home) liked to draw Disney's Seven Dwarfs. Elmer Wayne Henley, who was involved with crimes that inspired Gacy, has focused his moderate gifts on sunflowers and landscapes. Richard Ramirez (the "Night Stalker") may have been responsible for some intricately grisly crime scenes, but his drawings consist of little more than juvenile scribblings.

Some of the art produced by serial killers is genuinely inspired. If you think about it, it makes sense- many are on death row, locked in their cells for 23 hours per day. There's not a whole lot for them to do. That's likely why it's so easy to convince them to begin making art. No doubt there are a few killers who would engage in such activities regardless of whether or not anyone cared about the product. Add in the prospect of raising a few dollars for luxuries like candy and soda, and it becomes a no-brainer. Gacy, a successful entrepreneur in his everyday life, was probably among the first famous criminals to realize the potential of artistic enterprise. If nothing else, Gacy had good luck with his timing. As I noted in a previous post, his inclinations coincided with a growing fascination with "outsider art".

While the artwork of serial killers is often less than compelling, the motivations of the collectors of such memorabilia are complex. Why would someone want a piece of art of questionable quality, just because it was created by a man who has taken multiple lives? I understand the acute curiosity that is stimulated by extreme behavior, but insights are not often found in the amateurish articulation of the inane subjects chosen by the typical "prison artist". Would perpetrating intensely destructive acts lead to some deeply mysterious and refined artistic aesthetic? The amount of proportional talent within this self-selecting subgroup probably mirrors that of society in general. Why would we expect to find more value in the paintings, sculptures and drawings of killers? Why would the association between the object and the man's deeds be meaningful at all?

For a worthy study of the topic, I suggest tracking down Julian's Hobbs' obscure documentary "Collectors". The director focuses on the activities of two of the more notable serial killer art aficionados. Rick Staton is a mortician from Louisiana, and a recognized expert within this little world. He has encouraged numerous serial killers to create art by organizing exhibitions of their work. Hobbs followed Staton and his partner Tobias Allen on several of their quests to gather materials from actual crime sites. Along the way, the pair ruminated on their motivations for their peculiar predilection. It could be seen as a hobby like anything else, or a quixotic search for totemic symbols of life and death. But Hobbs has taken pains to present a balanced portrayal.

Staton and Allen have been accused of exploitation, and contributing to a perversion of justice in the promotion of their obsessions. They have become lightning rods for controversy. Victims' rights organizations have decried the insensitivity they perceive in the veneration of serial killer artists. Without the voices of the family members of serial killer victims, the viewer could easily characterize these collectors as harmless (if eccentric) ghouls. But the overall picture is more complicated than anyone could summarize in the space of five paragraphs. Collectors brings up a lot of questions about our society, and it even attempts a few answers. However Hobbs has ultimately provided plenty of space for the viewer to come to his/her own conclusions.

Time to Give it a Rest?

I may have just ended my recent phase of reading serial killer books. As I've mentioned on the blog now and again, I've spent much of this year intermittently reading non-fiction about some of the most heinous and dark members of the human species. I'd be lying of I didn't admit that I found much of the stuff I learned compelling, and that I received a certain jolt from wrapping my head around these pattern criminals. I've often said that I don't believe in the concept of "evil', and I wanted to test just how far my convictions extended. If there is any behavior that can be characterized in that way, I would have to nominate sadistic sexual predation and murder. Yet there is something so perverse about people that engage in these practices that I'm tempted to conclude that their actions have more to do with mental illness than any inversion of contemporary morality. Understandably most folks don't have space within their psychic schema to incorporate necrophilia, cannibalism, mutilation and dismemberment.

It makes sense that the vast majority of the population will go their entire lives without feeling a desire to study serial killing in any detail. The real-life stories of these perps transcend the offhand ruminations of the typical member of society. Even with a full imagination and the bleakest intentions, there is much I would have never thought of had I not read the historical accounts of the actions of some of these individuals. Jeffrey Dahmer is an illustrative example- in an attempt to create zombie partners for his twisted sex life, he drilled holes in the skulls of his victims and poured boiling water and acid in the openings. Furthermore, in the months before he was caught (while his compulsions were accelerating), he began to build an altar with reconstructed skeletons using bones from the young men he killed. The purpose of this mad construction was to harness energy to use ritualistically in controlling future victims.

There is no doubt in my mind that Dahmer was legally insane. While it's true that he was able to hold down jobs while in the midst of his madness, I don't think its a stretch to assume there was something inherently abnormal in his psychology. You'd only do the type of things that he did if you believed they would actually work. My reading of the secret hobbies of other serial killers further reinforces my viewpoint that the word "evil" is both imprecise and irrelevant when trying to explain the activities of these people. Such a categorization fails to provide the insights necessary to investigate, understand or prevent such extreme actions. After all, why bother examining these phenomena if we are going to lump them in with other more prosaic practices that we have either considered or engaged in? If, on the other hand, we intend to cite them as a benchmark for the limits of human behavior- then such a label as 'evil" becomes meaningless. If it requires such extreme examples to call ourselves "good" in comparison, then we might need to re-evaluate our entire conception of morality. This is a scale for a very small minority.

At any time in America, there may be several dozen active serial killers. (Please note that the definition of such a criminal is limited to someone who kills three or more victims, with a "cool-off" period between killings) This thought may be frightening until you consider the vast population of our nation. Truly you have a much greater chance of dying in a car accident, or while crossing the street, then becoming the victim of a future Ted Bundy. If you are neither a prostitute or a promiscuous gay male, your odds of avoiding such a fate improve even further. Yet with the extent to which serial killers have become part of our modern popular entertainment, it's easy to believe that these shadowy figures lurk on the periphery of our everyday lives. Such a belief is obviously magnified when one becomes obsessed with the burgeoning literature of multiple murderers.

So after concluding Harold Schechter's The Serial Killer Files, I have decided to give the subject matter a break for awhile. This encyclopedic compendium of mayhem and monsters overwhelms the reader with historical details and profiles of some of the most dangerous humans to stalk the planet. It is a wealth of information, and disputes many of the assumptions prevalent in our society. Serial killers have existed throughout history- the current rash in activity is not unprecedented, as many of our most strident cultural warriors would have you believe. Reading Schechter's work is truly enlightening, if a bit overwhelming. At the same time- because the book is structured into chapters detailing factors such as motive, methodology, definitions, and profiling- The Serial Killer Files can be annoyingly redundant in its repeated mention of specific criminals and crimes. It's one thing to have one's head filled with the most prominent serial killers like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy and Charles Manson... and it's entirely different to be familiar with the lives of Herbert Mullin, Joel Rifkin and Peter Sutcliffe. When one can recognize these obscure figures as if they were the lineup of this year's World Series championship team- it might be time to step away from the blood puddles.

Mark Essex... Race Warrior and Mass Murderer.

As I continue to read about some of the most violent incidents directed by individuals upon their fellow society members, I am occasionally surprised to come upon an unfamiliar name. Such was the case when I read about Mark Essex in Elliott Leyton's landmark study of multiple murderers- Hunting Humans (2001 ed. of a 1986 copyright). This well-respected book established Leyton's reputation as one of the foremost academics studying serial and mass murderers in America. It makes sense that Leyton would choose Essex as a representative case, because the author takes the unique approach of considering larger social factors when studying the actions of what many have characterized as "monsters". Throughout Hunting Humans Leyton examines the "tasks" of these individuals that may influence them to act out a bloody and horrific script.

Leyton is actually proposing that these killers are acting out some hazily-conceived rebellion against particular segments of society that they view (subconsciously or not) to have wronged them. This perspective certainly generates controversy as psychiatrists, law enforcement personnel, FBI investigators, and other observers have identified a litany of causes and predispositions that seem to override generalized social concerns. In some instances it does seem that Leyton is stretching the details of history to accommodate his theory. But at the same time I think it's fair to consider the behavior of multiple murderers on several different levels. It makes sense that developmental problems, genetics, a history of abuse, head injuries, mental illness, and (yes) sociological factors can all influence even the most extreme of human behaviors.

While it may not seem appropriate to look for social causes when we look at John Wayne Gacy or Jeffrey Dahmer, it seems hard to avoid the issue in the case of Mark Essex. Born to a loving and stable family in Emporia, Kansas, this young African-American grew up believing in a fair and essentially just society for all. According to all accounts he was a gentle and happy boy who got along well with almost everyone. Although he wanted to be a minister someday, he displayed a special aptitude for technical skills and decided to enlist in the US Navy. This is when his life began to spiral downwards. He was posted in San Diego after basic training, and was working as an assistant in a dentist's office. At first his superiors found him to be positive, soft-spoken, and eager to continue his history of engaging with all types of people. But gradually Essex became aware of a United States he never knew existed. He was increasingly subjected to racism from white sailors at the base.

As time went on Essex became frustrated with the inequalities he was now experiencing. He began to spend time only with blacks on the base and in the city, and became involved with outwardly militant political groups. After a clash between black and white sailors led to what Essex saw as a fundamentally unfair and inadequate formal resolution, he decided to go AWOL. This action would lead to a demotion and (eventually) an administrative discharge "for reason of unsuitability due to a character behavior disorder". Essex was by no means alone in his perception that the US Navy was a discriminatory body. There was widespread disillusionment among African-Americans in the military, and even sabotage on occasion. The resentful ex-sailor had been irrevocably altered- Essex went to New York City and then New Orleans, and ended up in the company of Black Panthers and other extremists.

While in Louisiana Essex continued to subscribe to an increasingly defiant revolutionary worldview. During a last attempt to assimilate into society as a vending machine repairman, Essex was distressed to learn of the local on-campus killings of two black student demonstrators. He responded by arming himself and becoming a recluse. Simmering in a small apartment alone, he "decorated" the walls with pro-Black and anti-white rhetoric and hateful slogans. When he finally emerged he initiated a stunning campaign of bloody violence. On New Years Eve (1974), he shot three police officers and cadets, killing two. Somehow he evaded capture. A week later he began a murderous rampage that ended with him being surrounded by 200 cops, on top of the roof of a Howard Johnson's Hotel. When he was about to run out of ammo, he left his hiding place and was riddled with bullets and killed. In the end Essex had managed to take the lives of nine people and wound ten others.

During the tense standoff at the hotel, a crowd of African-Americans sympathetic to Essex had loudly threatened to join the man in his rebellion. Each time he shot at the police, they chanted "Kill the Pigs!" in encouragement. Although the actions of this self-perceived Black Messiah did not touch off a full-scale revolution, it was clear that many of the disenfranchised blacks in society shared his sentiments. A twelve-year old boy that would later become John Allen Muhammed was a resident of the Baton Rouge area at the time- he would become famous as 1/2 of the infamous Washington DC Snipers.

Part Four- Helen Morrison, "My Life Among the Serial Killers" (2004)

This is the final post in my series about Helen Morrison's My Life Among the Serial Killers. Here's the end of my point-by-point rebuttal:

24. In a later chapter, Morrison deals with international serial killers. She examines two individuals in particular who committed suicide after being imprisoned. She goes on to suggest that maybe the prison structure led to a change in their personalities that made them more "humanlike (sic)". Not only does this typify the type of non-scientific conjecture that she rails at throughout the book, but it directly contradicts her oft-stated belief that serial killers cannot change or develop over time.

25. "Behavioral scientists don't do the medical work that I do to discover what makes a serial killer commit murder after murder. They'll look at the external characteristics of the person, and sometimes they get into a false way of 'psychoanalyzing 'the serial murderer'. " (p.252)

One wonders what Morrison means here regarding "a false way of 'psychoanalyzing' ". Would such a practice entail comments about the lack of emotional maturity in serial murders? What about suggesting that they are "addicted" to killing? It might behoove Morrison to take a good, hard look at her own beliefs before taking these potshots at FBI profilers. Her statements expose her self-importance repeatedly, without end.

26. "Serial murderers never commit suicide before being apprehended, and they rarely kill themselves in prison." (p. 256)

This is yet another assertion that cannot be substantiated. Certainly no serial murderers that we have identified and imprisoned have committed suicide before their identification. That should go without saying. But how does Morrison know that there aren't serial killers that kill themselves before they are identified? There's no way we would ever know, either way.

27. "If you, the reader, remember some or all of these points when watching frightening reports about the latest killer, you too will be able to keep the strange phenomenon of serial murder in perspective." (p.273)

Here's where Morrison tries to make us feel better about sticking it out to the end of her tremendously flawed book. In the last chapter (entitled "Where Do We Go From Here") the author makes a list of the controversial "rules" she has superimposed on serial killers (for example- they aren't psychopaths, they are addicts). This is merely a rehash of a few simplistic categorical statements she has proposed in the previous 270-odd pages. We are meant to think that we have gained some crucially enlightening insights, but only the least critical of readers could possibly believe that.

In summation, I'd like to express my opinion that this is the worst book on serial killers that I have ever read. Instead of insights into the minds or behaviors of these most destructive of individuals, My Life Among the Serial Killers offers a set of poorly reasoned conclusions and wild speculations. I had a lot of difficulty finding the utility of viewing these subjects as "emotionally immature" or "addicted to killing." Morrison is completely unwilling to concede that an individual's environment might contribute to his/her development. Because not every single serial killer tortured animals, experienced head trauma or were abused as children- Morrison feels emboldened to discount these as contributing factors of their behavior. Perhaps if she truly adopted the methods of the science she claims to respect, then her wild claims would be worth investigating. Instead, as I demonstrated in this series of posts, she relies on her own flawed intuition and "eureka moments".

Aside from her total inability to source or substantively defend her assumptions, Morrison lends an annoyingly dismissive tone to her writings. She is unwilling to grant peers, attorneys or law enforcement personnel any authority that might challenge her own. It's great that she is a leading feminist in the field, but that is no reason to be so incredibly self-important. Morrison's ultimate position- that criminality has a genetic component is neither original, nor is it particularly compelling. Contrary to her claims she is not the first "scholar" to propose such ideas. She is, however, remarkable in her abilities to remain entirely unconvincing- despite her ample experience in the field.

The real shame of this book is that she does a disservice to anyone making an alternative claim about the causes of extreme deviant behavior. Many of the reviews of this book that I have read have seized on Morrison's feminism in order to associate her with liberal thought. This is entirely unfair, as many progressive readers would or have had just as much difficulty with both the style and substance of My Life Among the Serial Killers. Neither the content of this book nor Morrison's disregard for her professional colleagues is representative of left-leaning scholarship.

Part Three- Helen Morrison, "My Life Among the Serial Killers" (2004)

This is the third in a series of posts presenting a point-by-point rebuttal of Helen Morrison's My Life Among the Serial Killers (2004).

15. "Then I heard that the lawyers and Bobby Joe had spoken to some other psychiatrists for his trial, and I felt that was not a good sign. As I found with Gacy, too many cooks spoil the broth" (p. 160)

Evidently, after Morrison had served as a defense witness for Gacy, her services were sought after by attorneys and defense teams representing other serial killer clients. Given her failure in the Gacy trial, one wonders why that was so. Perhaps it's because it's difficult to find a psychiatrist willing to work towards a lesser punishment for the most spectacularly dangerous members of society. However, we might be tempted to assume the type of legal fees such experts command are convincing. It's clear from her description of the situation that not only does Morrison see herself as more competent than attorneys, but she also resents having her sole authority challenged on a case.

16. "Like other serial killers I had profiled and interviewed, [Bobby Joe] Long had never matured emotionally beyond infancy." (p.180)

Morrison has a disturbing tendency to infantilize serial killers. This is the crux of her unique approach and perspective. She is making the claim that these criminals kill because they are "emotionally immature". Throughout the book, she systematically dismisses other common factors attributed to serial killers- head trauma, childhood abuse, prior criminal behavior, etc. In this she proves to be irredeemably reductionist. She believes she is revolutionary in finding the unifying theory behind serial killing.

17. "There's a kind of profiler who has studied behavioral science who believes that serial killers torture and kill dogs and cats in addition to humans and that torturing animals is a precursor to killing human beings. But I have not seen this to be true." (p. 191)

Here's an example of what I mentioned above. Her attempt to flout conventional wisdom makes sense because (if there is any truth to it) then her own pet theory crumbles. Unfortunately for Morrison, there are many reports of killers first initiating their cruelty upon animals. Jeffrey Dahmer is just one well known example of this. As conflicting "evidence" we have Morrison's contention that she just hasn't "seen this to be true".

18. "Many [serial killers] have IQs that are above average, though none are geniuses." (p.194)

Here's another incident of the author making a completely unsubstantiated claim. How does she know that no serial killers are geniuses? Has she tested each and every one of them? It seems that Morrison believes that by stating something with absolute authority, her words become reality. Maybe a psychiatrist of like mind would suggest that this itself is an indication of "emotional immaturity".

19. "In one swift moment, Pearson bit [Robert] Berdella so hard, he nearly severed his penis. (..) Berdella then injected him with acepromazine, an animal tranquilizer, and began thrashing Pearson with part of a tree limb. It was thick, splitting Pearson's lip and knocking him out. Then Berdella, oozing a lot of blood from Pearson's bite, drove himself to the hospital." (p.191)

"Most people might immediately react to the pain by wanting to get back at the person who hurt them, a reaction that might lead to killing someone who did such a thing. Berdella did nothing to Pearson right away, he just left the house and went to the hospital." (p. 196)

Nothing of course... besides thrashing him unconscious, and leaving him in that state. Morrison doesn't even seem capable of following her own narrative. She wants to make the case that Robert Berdella (a known sadist) was like a "baby playing with a ball" who did not know the actual reality of torture. She says that he didn't know what pain was, and therefore failed to kill his intended victim when, in the course of that victim's attempted resistance, he almost had his penis severed. In the process of trying to make the facts conform to her theory, she descends into complete and utter nonsense.

20. "He was sleeping like a baby." (p.206)

In an account of the crimes of Michael Lee Lockhart, Morrison describes how Lockhart killed a cop, fled the scene in a sports car, lost control of the getaway vehicle, crashed, escaped on foot, cleaned up at a nearby restaurant, and hailed a cab to Houston. When the cab was pulled over by a the Texas Highway Patrol, Lockhart was discovered sleeping on the backseat. Maybe he was exhausted by the day's activities? No... not in Morrison's esteemed judgment. Her guess is "that he was lulled by the movement of the car, which can have a soothing, soporific effect, especially for someone like Lockhart, who wasn't emotionally developed." (p.206) By now we know exactly where Morrison is going with this.

21. "To me it means they all have this kind of free-flowing identity that is sometimes male and sometimes female and sometimes something in between, pointing to the fact that they have a very fluid sexuality, which means they can function as heterosexuals or homosexuals." (p.208)

This is another absolute gem. Now we are told that all serial killers are bisexual. Are you feeling enlightened yet?

22. "It wasn't that he didn't like his mother or that his father had abused him, and that led him to kill. There was something deeper at work here, something that had less to do with nurture and more to do with nature. To me, there was a consequential, scientifically logical connection to be made here, a connection that no one, absolutely no one, before had made." (p.212)

Morrison's talking about Michael Lee Lockhart here, but she could be talking about any serial killer. In her eyes, she has identified a pattern that applies to them all- They are simply immature babies! You have to appreciate the way she congratulates herself here for this amazingly unprecedented revelation. She's obviously forever altered the case of modern criminology.

23. "All the others before and all the others in the future: they all had this trigger moment prior to killing. They were addicted to killing." (p. 214)

Wait... what's that you say? Maybe they are not all babies? They are addicts? OK, that explains it. And it's a good thing too, because now all we have to do is get them into a 12-step program. Who wants to be a sponsor?

Tomorrow... the last installment of this sordid affair...

Part Two - Helen Morrison, "My Life Among the Serial Killers" (2004)

This is a continuation of yesterday's point-by-point rebuttal to Helen Morrison's My Life Among the Serial Killers (2004).



8. "It wasn't that the panties had sexual meaning to him. He just liked the feeling of them in his hand and on his body. To him, it was about simple comfort and quick release and not about fantasies or dreams ." (p.96)


In Chapter 6 ("The Gacy Interviews"), Morrison relates John Wayne Gacy's account of stealing his mother's panties as a kid. He also stole his neighbors' underwear off their clotheslines. And he even took panties from some of the boys he slept with. He admits that he "used to masturbate with them". Morrison's analysis of this habit is striking. Gacy clearly had issues with his gender identity. By sleeping with men, he confounded conventional expectations regarding sexuality. But to suggest that Gacy's sexual practices were not sexually meaningful seems to me to be the apex of denial. Obviously this extends to his masturbatory habits and methodology. Morrison's statements make me question whether she understands anything at all about male sexual behavior.


9. Dr. Morrison administered a "language test" in which she read a very simple and vague sentence, and asked John Wayne Gacy to interpret what was happening in the imagined scenario. He displayed what (to me) appears to be an understandable hesitancy to assume to know what had not been said. He explained that there were several unexplained variables, and outlined some possibilities. Instead of interpreting the answer as a cautious effort to avoid unwarranted assumptions, Morrison characterized it as the display of "a very primitive mode of thought" (p.98). She went on to say, "A normal person would come up with a structured beginning, a middle, and an end to the story", and then gave her own formulation of a correct answer. Apparently if a subject is unwilling to jump to conclusions based upon flimsy data, then they are abnormal. This explains much of the logic within Morrison's book.


10. Morrison has the unfortunate tendency of overgeneralization. I remarked on this in my last post. Chapter 7, in which the psychiatrist appears for her first time as an expert witness in a "high-profile criminal trial", and displays her habit of flawed simplification. She suggests that her study of Gacy led to extensive knowledge of serial killers in general. She goes on to say that seeing Gacy "is like seeing [Richard] Macek in a different body" (p.101). Macek was the very first serial killer Morrison was allowed to examine in depth and in person. Here she appears to have formed a template to superimpose on individuals, regardless of their differences. This strategy seems not only naive, buy also completely unproductive.


11. "After ten years of research and investigation, I felt I'd barely scratched the surface of what goes on inside the head of a serial killer. (...) I knew a little, and while that was more than anyone else, I still needed to know a lot more." (p.127)


The first part of the above quote is understandable, given Morrison's shoddy research techniques and obvious pattern of misconception. The second half (containing the portion I placed in boldface) is downright disturbing. Her self-assessment shows such an extreme narcissism and hubris that it raises the question of whether or not she should be allowed by law to claim any credibility or expertise on the subject of serial killers.


12. "Gacy could have gotten bored with his victim or he could have become tired physically. But it was not something Rignall did that made this occur. Rignall's passivity did not allow a distraction to occur; it couldn't have." (p.129)



Here Morrison is referring to a victim that was released by Gacy. There has been speculation that Rignall's demeanor helped influence Gacy's decision to let him go. How Morrison feels qualified to make her assertions is a mystery. She has no way of qualifying her claims. She couldn't know what happened between Rignall and Gacy. She wasn't there. Yet she voices her guess with total authority, as if she were omnipotent. Perhaps this too is attributable to her role as defense witness. She attempted to "prove" that Gacy's actions were beyond his control. If Gacy could choose to let a potential victim go free, then her position is necessarily disproven (as it ended up being judged at the trial).


13. "Whenever he drank too much, Peter would indeed open up, only to collapse in fits of hooting laughter, incessant giggling, that often went on for up to ten minutes. Once he got started, he couldn't stop."(p.132)



Morrison included a chapter that presented a detailed profile of British serial killer Peter Sutcliffe (the Yorkshire Ripper). Apparently Peter both abused alcohol, and experienced decreased inhibitions when using it. These are both blatant contradictions of earlier statements made by the author (see Part 1). It's amazing that Morrison was able to get her doctorate, but is unable to identify her many academic inconsistencies. My Life Among the Serial Killers is a prime example of poor scholarship.


14. "Serial killers rarely can control the intensity of their impulses. When they go to do something, they don't modulate their reactions. It's all or nothing, broken wrist or not." (p.132)



This quote references an incident when the young Sutcliffe broke his own wrist while punching a bigger target. Any substantial exploration of the lives of serial killers will demonstrate that Morrison's conclusion here is mistaken. There are multiple incidences of serial killers fighting their instinct to take additional victims, and then succumbing slowly to their aggressive drives after a number of years. The author even gives several examples of serial killers deciding to release their victims after torturing them, but before killing them.



Stay tuned for Part 3...

Helen Morrison, "My Life Among the Seral Killers" (2004)

Given my propensity to enjoy reading true crime, I thought a book like Helen Morrison's My Life Among the Serial Killers would be fascinating. After all, I thought reading a forensic psychiatrist's thoughts about these most heinous of criminals would (at the very least) be intellectually stimulating. I certainly didn't expect to laugh out loud at flawed logic and skewed perspectives. But within the first 30 pages, that's exactly what I was doing.

Right off the bat I discovered that the author was extremely defensive about being a woman in a male-dominated field (and an attractive one at that, if the narrator is at all reliable). In the interactions she had with men, it was immediately evident from her descriptions that she had preconceived notions that would affect her ability to operate objectively. She seemed to even look down on law enforcement, with stereotypes of the class of people that concern themselves with it, and a less-than-subtle condescension toward those who don't have the luxury of doing "pure research". Her attitude made me quickly doubt the quality of her judgment. As I continued reading I began to dog-ear the pages where the most dubious assertions occurred. It wasn't long before I resolved to post here about what I had found.

I decided that the best format for my consideration of the book would be a point-by-point rebuttal, including quotes. Bear in mind that I don't view myself as an expert on criminal pathology, and my objections to the author's thinking process are generalized in nature. What I know about killers, I've learned by reading books- unlike Morrison, who has met and interviewed them in great depth. Yet (as a self-defined expert and frequent court defense witness) I would have predicted that her theories and contentions on the subject would be more logical than they appear to be. Notice that I confine myself to an evaluation of her own words alone, and that I haven't even sought other sources that may contradict her accounts.

1. Morrison puts great stock in hypnotherapy- a method of recovering memory. This is a technique that has been (at the very least) controversial, and generally discredited in the scientific community.

2. (p.24) "(...) no serial murderers are addicted to drugs, drink, or even smoking."

Morrison is prone to making blanket statements about serial killers, based upon her interactions with several of them. Nowhere does she explain her odd belief that they are without substance addiction. But no reputable scientist would frame an absolute in this manner.

3. Morrison claims that a subject that she hypnotized (Richard Macek) manifested spontaneous blisters on his hands during a session where he was meant to recall a previous experience of being burnt. Later when she explains why she had no documentation of the event, she contends that the institution guards would not let her bring such equipment into the mental hospital where Macek was incarcerated. Perhaps we should simply let her own evaluation of the event stand- "I was frightened at what seemed to be an almost supernatural event." (p.28)

4. When the same Macek lapsed into addressing Morrison as his wife in a letter, she completely omits any mention of doctor-patient transference. This is a fairly common concept in psychological therapy, and for all of Morrison's validation of Freudian theory- you'd think she would have caught this. Yet she writes, "We didn't look or act alike. How could he have mixed up the two of us?" (p.43) She concludes that "Richard had just forgotten to whom he was writing."(p.44)

5. "What happens with many normal people is that they lose inhibitions when under the influence [of alcohol], but this doesn't occur with the serial murderer, and it can't be seen as a trigger." (p.55)

So... Morrison is saying that, although serial killers are never alcohol addicts, they don't lose their inhibitions when they drink. Maybe she is suggesting that they have no inhibitions. Or maybe she is claiming that serial killers are immune to the effect of alcohol. Either way, the claims are ludicrous. Ted Bundy himself claimed that he needed to drink alcohol in order to prepare himself to commit crimes. His loved ones confirmed that his manner often changed under the influence of alcohol.

6. Morrison tells us the story of Albert Fish, a child-killer form the 1920's who ate his victims. She says that when he was arrested it was discovered that he had inserted needles between his scrotum and rectum. This would widely be considered deviant behavior. Yet our good "doctor" asserts confidently that the practice "had no greater psychological meaning." (p. 65) This claim is meant to support her theory that "serial killers like to experiment simply for the sake of experimentation." (p.65) Of course even if this were true, it would be useless due to the fact that it can neither be proven nor refuted by data.

7. "First, the serial murderer is never as organized as a psychopath in his methodology. A Psychopaths can plot and carry out complex schemes. Secondly, psychopaths have a structured personality that doctors can pinpoint, utilize and work with. That structured personality is like most everyone else's, with an ego, an id, and a superego. The psychopath has problems with the superego, where guilt and conscience reside; he has no conscience, and he's not scattered the way a serial killer is." (p.71)

There are so many problems with this excerpt that it's difficult to find a starting point for criticism. The outdated and simplistic Freudian psychology should be noted right of the bat. Later in the book, Morrison entertains us with the notion that she tries to avoid "pop psychology". Maybe she has problems with definitions and/or classification. But even if we grant her that confusion, we can't let her get away with the other nonsense here.

It is generally accepted that most serial killers fit the description of "psychopath". Morrison even uses the conventional definition for the term. Few feel remorse for what they have done. In fact, they might even be considered the archetypes of the classification. Not every psychopath is a serial killer, and it can be argued that the reverse is true as well. But Morrison frames her argument as if they are mutually exclusive descriptions. This is simply untrue, and a dangerously irresponsible claim.

Furthermore, there are both organized and disorganized serial killers. Some have undeniably "plotted and carried out complex schemes". It's ironic that the quotes above come from a section about John Wayne Gacy- a man notorious for his plotting and execution. Perhaps Morrison tries to get away with these claims here because she was hired to work on Gacy's defense team. In her capacity as defense witness, she was supposed to provide evidence for Gacy's insanity. Needless to say she was unsuccessful.

Much more to come in Part Two...

Jason Moss "The Last Victim" (1999).

Yesterday I mentioned a book by Jason Moss called The Last Victim: A True Life Journey Into the Mind of a Serial Killer. After completing high school, the author decided that he wanted to make contact with serial killers. He wanted to write a college honors thesis about his experiences, and eventually work as a criminal profiler for the FBI. His first target was "The Clown Killer", John Wayne Gacy. For those of you who don't know the story- Gacy raped, tortured, killed, and buried in his basement 33 young men. The Chicago native had owned a construction business and was well known in his community. Moss decided to read all the available material on Gacy and send a letter to him on death row.

In order to get Gacy to "open up", the eighteen-year-old Moss developed an alter ego. He posed as an abused, lonely, sexually confused youth... just the kind of boy that the killer whould have chosen as a potential victim. As the letter exchange continued, Gacy became more controlling and eventually began to prod Moss to initiate an incestuos sexual relationship with his younger brother. Despite the growing concerns his family members had about his obsession, Moss proceeded to write a second set of letters under the assumed identity of his younger sibling. His letters were constructed in a way that would convince his pen pal that he had indeed started such experimentation. He justified this decision to himself with the idea that it would hook Gacy for the long haul, and lead him to make significant revelations.

As time went on the unlikely pair exhibited more intimacy in their respective letters, and soon Gacy was calling Moss' personal telephone line at home. Gacy sent checks for the calls, and several of his paintings, in order to seduce his final prey. When Spring Break came around, Moss was invited to visit the the death row cell block in Illinois at the prisoner's expense. While his family was suspicious of Gacy's motives, Moss considered this a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and accepted the offer. He flew to the prison by himself, and was welcomed by Gacy's nephew. The agreement was that Moss would stay at a hotel for three days on Gacy's dime, and visit the inmate for several hours each day. The young investigator thought that he would get crucial insights into the the killler's methods, and indeed he got more than he bargained for. In fact he was lucky to get out of the visit intact.

Moss didn't limit his pursuit to Gacy. Simultaneous to his budding relationship with "The Killer Clown", he also established contact with Charles Manson, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Henry Lee Lucas. In each instance he varied his approach based upon his reading of each of their criminal profiles. Manson sent a series of enigmatic notes and poems, and actually forwarded a suggested reading list. Dahmer asked for photos of Moss in compromising positions. The interaction with Lucas was the result of an invitation Moss received to interview him in Texas before his execution. The prolific murderer graced the occasion with a list of tips for the would-be serial killer. But Ramirez was the most cooperative of the bunch. Moss told him that he was the head of a Black Magick cult in Las Vegas, and "The Night Stalker" bought it hook, line and sinker. It wasn't long before Moss was extended the invitation to join Ramirez' Satanic Friends Network.

It's quite clear from the book that this peculiar project caused the youthful Moss much psychic pain. In the beginning of his quest he had a hugely inflated assessment of his own ability to deceive and manipulate these sociopaths. Under "normal" conditions, this type of naive hubris usually elicits mild corrections that contribute to one's emotional growth. In the adventures of Jason Moss, the stakes were much higher. He wasn't dealing with anything conventional society would describe as normal. Moss had been sheltered by his family and surroundings, and he was armed mostly just with his innate curiosity and a nascent ability to bullshit others. He was challenging a subset of society that had resisted all efforts to control them. Although he escaped the clutches of John Wayne Gacy, his audacity had serious consequences. On 6/6/06 (a date with obvious occult implications), Moss shot and killed himself.

Brushes with Fame.

What is it about a brush with fame that so captivates people? There are well over 6 billion people on earth, yet a very small minority of them are assumed to be of general interest. In many cases this interest is driven by the corporate-owned media. What's really so special about Paris Hilton or Ozzy Osbourne's wife? We've been led like sheep- our attention directed toward whatever the shepherd wants us to see. Are their special answers to be found? Do famous people hold the keys to your particular problems in life? Americans are obsessed with celebrity. It seems only right to ask why that is.

Growing up, I remember falling into this trap. Baseball was a constant subject around our home, and we went as far as amassing huge collections of collectibles. We'd attend baseball card shows and sometimes we'd wait in line to get the autographs of whatever players they were featuring. Often we did so only because it was free. It felt rewarding somehow to make contact with someone who had attained an element of success in the game. It didn't matter whether the person was on our favorite team, or if we had ever really cared about their career. At some point the autograph appearances became big business, and promoters began to charge fees for signatures. My father was wise enough to discourage our interest at that point. However I do remember waiting nervously to pay for the opportunity of having my all-time favorite ball-player tag my own little piece of cardboard. When I got to the front of the line, the guy wasn't even looking at the crowd filing by his table. I actually had to greet him loudly to get him to acknowledge me. I don't even know the current whereabouts of the souvenir he signed for me. But at the time it was a prized possession.

Nowadays I can't think of anyone that would inspire me to wait in line or to pay money to have them scrawl their name on a relic. Truthfully it probably wouldn't even occur to me to ask for an autograph, even if I admired them greatly. Perhaps I would snap a photo or two, but that would be the only concession I would make to the memory of the interaction. By this point in my life I have met a number of small-time celebrities. I've even shared a beer with a few of them. And I do have to admit that I have felt there was something special about getting those opportunities. Maybe like so many others, I have a subconscious feeling that their fame and success will somehow rub off on me. Of course that's completely irrational, unless they are actually in the position to help you with something. If that's the case, then the whole dynamic shifts.

I guess that I believe that all people are basically the same. They have to eat, shit and sleep- just like you. That realization takes away some of the anxiety I might otherwise feel in measuring up to their fame. Yet I must concede that I am so curious and fascinated by certain individuals that I would go out of my way to meet them. There would have to be some specific purpose behind the meeting. I would certainly pay large amounts of money to sit in a class taught by one of my favorite directors, artists, or authors. In that case there is a defined relationship that governs the experience. Ideally each party understands the expectations. A contractual agreement looms over the interaction, and insures against disappointment.

This entire train of thought is inspired by a book about a young man who established written correspondence with several famous serial killers. In the last fifty years, even the most transgressive of psychopathic criminals have developed fan bases. If you could strike up a conversation with Charles Manson, Gary Ridgeway, or Dennis Rader- would you do it? Do you believe that you could learn something from them? Or would it be a strange novelty to be able to tell your friends and family that you have made some extremely odd pen pals? The author of the book in question (Jason Moss, The Last Victim) has apparently gained his own form of notoriety from the relationships he has forged with conventionally-defined "monsters" like Manson, John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer. His pursuit of infamy begs the question- What was he hoping would rub off on him?

Ann Rule, "The Stranger Beside Me" (1989 ed.)

The events surrounding the writing of The Stranger Beside Me would be almost completely unbelievable if they appeared on a television drama. As it is, author Ann Rule probably couldn't have made them up. Rule was a policewoman and writer of detective stories before she ever worked the late shift at a crisis center alongside one of the most notorious American serial killers of all time. She developed a friendship with the charming and attractive man that sat next to her in her office. Had she known about the secret activities of the only other person in the building on those working nights, she may well have refused to come back.

Over a period of years Ann Rule maintained a friendship with Ted Bundy. At the time, no one would guess that Bundy was capable of the horrifying crimes he would later be put to death for. He was a rising star of the Republican Party in Washington state. He had a degree in psychology and was about to pursue a law degree. All indications pointed to a bright future for the brilliant young man. But it was not to be. In the final days before he was executed, Bundy confessed to murdering thirty women, many of which he also raped- both before and after they were dead. The identities of ten of those were never discovered. Many authorities think that there were many more victims. Rule herself came to believe that Bundy had killed over 100. It was fortunate for Rule that she didn't fit Bundy's target profile. She was over a decade older than her friend, and lacked the beautiful vulnerability that Bundy searched for.

From Rule's account, it is not surprising that so many people believed in Bundy's innocence- even after he had been convicted of abduction and murder. He forever changed the science of criminal profiling. Although he was an illegitimate child, he claimed to have had a normal and relatively pleasant upbringing. Bundy had no serious criminal record as an adolescent. He had several normal heterosexual relationships, and was engaged to be married to two different women. He once saved a young child from drowning. Even the governor of Washington trusted him enough to employ him as one of his closest aides. Many who knew him considered him a perfect example of the "rags-to-riches"- Horatio Alger story. Yet there is some suspicion that Bundy took his first victim at age 16. The killer himself traces his first kidnapping attempt to 1969, when he was 23 years old.

As the authorities finally caught up to Ted Bundy, Ann Rule was working on her first full-length book, investigating the mysterious disappearances and murders of young women in the Seattle/Tacoma area. Little did she know how close she was to the story. She soon found herself in a peculiarly awkward position. Did she owe her loyalties to her accused friend, or would she be able to find the objectivity to complete her book? Rule and Bundy maintained a written and phone correspondence for over a decade after he was imprisoned. As more information about Bundy's crimes surfaced... as the evidence against him slowly accumulated into a mountain- Rule began to feel that Bundy was indeed guilty. The inner conflict over her friend's culpability is a subject that threads throughout the entire book.

The Stranger Beside Me is of substantial size. It includes background information about Bundy's early life. Rule describes her interaction with Bundy, but she also spends a lot of time outlining what is known about each victim and the crimes themselves. Much of the book describes the experiences Bundy had in various jails. There are accounts of the two successful escapes Bundy made in the West. After his second flight, Bundy traveled to Florida and resumed his campaign of horror. Rule follows his story right through the Chi Omega rampage, and the very last abduction and murder he would commit. Finally a large portion of the original edition was dedicated to the subsequent trials in Florida, and Bundy's legal maneuvers to prolong his life in the face of the death penalty. The 1989 edition that I read included several add-ons that brought the reader up to speed on Bundy's ultimate fate. The last update recounts his confession and execution.

It's fascinating to see the slow transition in Rule's position regarding Bundy's guilt. His power of persuasion was so advanced that the author couldn't accept the reality of the situation. This is understandable in light of recent research regarding psychopathy. Analysts that were charged with examining Bundy's mental state concluded that he had antisocial personality disorder. He was competent enough to represent himself in court, but lacked normal human empathy and compassion. Having recently dealt with an individual with this disorder (though one not nearly as talented or intelligent as Bundy), I can understand why so many people were taken in by his mask.

For more on Ted Bundy, refer to this earlier post.