by Tim Lott
– You slept with her.
– No! Good God, no. I didn’t even find her attractive. I just… kissed her. That was all. But after that she changed. She became sloppy.
– I understand. I find sloppiness intolerable. It’s lazy and selfish. I feel exactly the same.
– You do?
– Oh, yes. I feel the same as you in many ways.
– Such as?
– Well, for instance, I feel lonely sometimes. And… oh, God…
– What is it?
– My head.
She puts her head into her hands and gives a low moan. This time Dr Seymour gets up and moves to her side of the desk. She takes her hands from her face.
– What are you doing?
– You talked about trust. Just trust me for a moment.
– What are you going to do? Reiki? Acupressure? I’ve tried them all. They don’t work.
– Someone once told me I had healing hands.
– And do you?
– I don’t know. I don’t really know any more.
She turns her head towards him and tries to force a smile through her grimace of pain.
– Why don’t we find out?
At this, Dr Seymour stands behind her, places his hands on her head and begins to massage her temples and shoulders gently. She seems to stiffen, then relax. She leans back in her chair. For several minutes no words are spoken. Both Dr Seymour and Sherry Thomas have their eyes closed. There is nothing sexual about the massage, but it is tender. The longer it goes on, the more she seems to relax. After a few minutes he opens his eyes and stands back.
– Anything?
Now Sherry Thomas blinks and rubs her eyes.
– It’s gone, Alex. Completely gone.
– Has it? Has it really?
– That’s amazing.
– I’m certainly amazed.
– You really do have healing hands.
Dr Seymour holds them up to his face and regards them, first with puzzlement, then with a kind of fierce joy.
– I knew it! I knew I did.
As if he is a little dazed, he moves to the other side of Sherry Thomas’s desk and sits down again.
– Listen, Alex, do you want something for your surgery? As well as the kids’ bedroom? Something that will make you feel safer?
– I don’t know. It would be highly unethical.
– What would be unethical is if you were to have your career – your healing career – ruined for no good reason. Has the woman been back to the surgery since the incident?
– No.
– Do you think you could get her to come in again?
– Possibly.
– Then that’s what you need to do. Obviously, if you’ve been abusing her she won’t. But if she does you can talk about the previous consultation in terms that make it clear that nothing improper took place.
– Wouldn’t it be enough just to get her back in to the surgery – without filming her, I mean?
– It might be. On the other hand, it might not. It might be thought that you threatened her, effectively forced her to come back. Perhaps she’s an asylum-seeker or an illegal immigrant and you’re threatening to have her deported.
– That’s a rather far-fetched story.
– Perhaps. But are you willing to take the risk that any investigating agency wouldn’t believe it – at least for long enough to ruin your career?
– I don’t know. It would be a serious matter to tape a patient secretly.
– I don’t offer any advice about the legality of one course or another. I just give out the equipment. But I would say this. Raping is worse than taping.
– That’s an unpleasant way of putting it.
– It’s an unpleasant business. The point is, no one is going to find out about the camera unless the worst comes to the absolute worst. It’ll just be our secret.
– We have a different kind of smoke alarm at the surgery. The ones you sell would stand out like a sore thumb.
– There are plenty of other possibilities.
Dr Seymour’s eyes scan the room. His gaze falls on a large brown teddy bear with a dim-witted but convincingly lovable expression. Sherry Thomas follows his gaze.
– The camera is mounted in one of his eyes.
– I have lots of soft toys in the surgery. For the kids. No one would notice another.
– That’s a good idea. I’m sure it will make you feel much better. And I could give you a discount.
– What kind of discount?
– One hundred per cent.
– Why on earth would you give me the equipment for free?
– Because you healed me, Alex. And more than that – I like you. I like you because I can see that you’re on – you’re on a quest. You haven’t just lain down and accepted it all like some kind of dumb animal. You’re fighting back, Alex, in your own way. All those invisible worlds ranged against you. You’ve got the courage to do something about it. I respect that, I really do.
– Is that all?
– No. There’s one other thing. I’d like you to bring the tapes here.
– What on earth for?
– Because I can help you interpret them. It’s a purely professional matter. You’d be surprised how easy it is to misread what you capture on a videotape. Also, if things aren’t working technically, I can tell you how to improve them.
– Is this a service you provide for all your clients?
– To be honest, no. But I find your case interesting, and I think I can be of help.
Dr Seymour weighs the offer carefully before he replies.
– Can I think about it?
– Of course you can. No pressure.
Sherry Thomas gathers together the surveillance equipment – the teddy bear transmitter, an extra receiver and a new smoke-alarm transmitter for the children’s bedroom – and places it in a plain white plastic carrier-bag. She hands it to Dr Seymour, who, without another word, takes it from her and leaves CSS.
Interview with Barbara Shilling
Author’s Note: It was relatively straightforward to track down the therapist to whom Sherry Thomas referred in her second meeting with Dr Seymour. There were three listed in the local Yellow Pages within five miles of her home, and the second I rang, Barbara Shilling, confirmed that she had been a client.
The connection with Ms Shilling was invaluable, given how thin the available information is about Sherry Thomas. Even the tabloid press has been unable to unearth any more than a few scant details about her. Her name, or at least her surname, is fabricated. According to the story she told Ms Shilling, she had been in the UK for less than a year. She bought her shop lease and all her equipment with cash. She set up her bank accounts using false identification documents. A post-mortem revealed that she had had extensive plastic surgery. Attempts to discover traces of her on the other side of the Atlantic failed. According to Ms Shilling’s limited knowledge of her, she lived a rootless life, moving from one place to another, living on her wits. There may be criminal records of her, but as it has proved impossible to unravel her numerous aliases no one knows for sure. One can only speculate as to the reasons for her arrival in Britain. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to make a new start that failed. Certainly, what met her on this side of the Atlantic was still more loneliness and alienation. Whatever she was running away from pursued her.
Barbara Shilling runs a small practice in Ealing. She is not registered with any formal organization – the rules governing therapy in the UK are lax. She advertises herself as a specialist in psycho-sexual and relationship therapy. Her advertisement in the Yellow Pages suggests that she can alleviate or address problems of ‘anxiety, hopelessness, phobias, abuse and compulsions’. She holds no formal qualifications in psychotherapy, but she is well read, and has an extensive knowledge of the various psychodynamic disciplines – Freudian, Kleinian, Personal Construct, Gestalt – as well as behavioural therapies.
Despite her lack of qualifications,
my impression of Barbara Shilling was not that she was a quack. She is a small, serious-minded woman, who rarely smiles and peered at me through small, intense brown eyes that seem larger because of the powerful spectacles she wears. She speaks clearly and concisely, without gobbledegook. I found her an entirely credible witness. She seems anguished about the end her client met, and blames herself, to some extent, for failing to notice that Sherry Thomas was in extremis.
Thank you for agreeing to see me, Ms Shilling.
I’m grateful to be able to talk about it. It’s been a burden. Poor Sherry.
Sympathy hasn’t been the overriding response to what she did.
No, of course not. People fear understanding, lest it leaves them with no one to blame.
Are you saying you think Sherry Thomas bore no responsibility for what she did?
Certainly she did. I also know that she was an unhappy and abused woman who was doing everything she could to keep her head above water. In the end she destroyed the one person she thought might save her. Desperate people often take down with them those they care about, one way or another.
When did you first meet Ms Thomas?
Three months before this thing blew up. She picked me out of the local telephone directory. We had only six sessions so I don’t have an immense amount of information, I’m afraid.
Why did she feel she needed a therapist?
The reason most people feel they need a therapist. Because she was unhappy.
What was your initial impression of her?
She put on a brave face. She came across as charming, positive and dynamic. That’s not uncommon – particularly among Americans who consider it almost a moral duty to be happy. All the time she talked to me she was at pains to appear ‘up’, to put a positive spin on things.
What did you find out about her past?
I don’t know. I’m not sure she was entirely honest about it. She told me she grew up in an institution in Salt Lake City, Utah, after being abandoned by her mother as a baby. Her memories of her childhood seemed rather vague – whether because she was falsifying them or because she had suppressed them, I couldn’t be sure.
Author’s Note: There is no record of any Sherry Thomas being brought up at any of the orphanages in the Salt Lake City area.
She claimed not to have had too bad a time in the institution, but she was very solitary and sometimes bullied. She said she was a plain-looking child, and that was why no one fostered her. She stayed there until she was sixteen, when she left and got a job at a local fast-food outlet. She started seeing boys at about this age, and claims to have remained a virgin until she was seventeen. Then she said that she met someone nice, and moved in with his family.
Did she mention his name?
I don’t think so. She said he was a football player. ‘Kinda sweet’ was how she described him. ‘Kinda sweet, but dumb.’ Sherry had quite a high opinion of her own intellect, and a certain disdain for those she considered less intelligent than her. They broke up anyway, after a while.
And after that?
She was rather sketchy on the details. She told me she moved about a lot, getting involved with various men. She drifted, really. She was making jewellery in California at one time, then she claimed to have done a degree, and after that she started one of several retail operations.
To do with surveillance?
Not initially, although she said she had been interested in security from an early age.
Meaning what?
It’s rather an odd thing to say, isn’t it? But she told me she was obsessed with things like locks and keys. She always had the latest security bolts and installations on any apartment she lived in, she said, even if she wasn’t earning much. She said she enjoyed going to security shops and choosing the latest innovations. It was a kind of hobby, she claimed. But she didn’t get involved in surveillance until some time in her early thirties when she worked for a security firm in Oregon. That was where she picked up the know-how to start Cyclops.
Obviously she wasn’t someone who felt particularly safe within herself.
Of course. The point wasn’t lost on her. But to some extent she was in denial over it. She made out that her interest in security was rational, that the world was a dangerous place. Which, of course, it is.
When did she come to the UK?
I’m not sure. Quite recently, within the last nine or ten months.
What kind of life did she lead here?
She worked, mainly. She was very committed to making Cyclops a success, though I’m not sure how well she was doing. I know she went to the gym regularly. She would work out for exactly one hour, five days a week. But her social life, otherwise, was limited. She was fairly promiscuous, but made no lasting relationship. I’m not sure that she wanted one. She distrusted men, but she didn’t find it easy to be alone.
Friends?
Not really. Always said she was too busy. But perhaps she wouldn’t put herself into a situation where she might be rejected. She greatly feared rejection.
Anything else about her everyday life?
Not much. She watched a fair amount of TV.
Reality shows?
Funnily enough, no. She thought they were fake. Said they weren’t ‘hard core’ enough. That they didn’t get at the ‘truth’ about people. No, she liked old movies and weather reports. Said she found them calming. Other than that, she read celebrity magazines, and ‘kept house’, which took up a great deal of her time. She was fanatically houseproud. Cleanliness and tidiness were very important to her.
What did she tell you about the causes of her unhappiness?
First and foremost, it was loneliness. And anger. The loneliness came from the upbringing. Even by American standards, she was rootless, wandering from place to place, looking for something that always eluded her.
Was her unhappiness – how can I put this? – within the normal range of behaviour?
You mean, was she mentally ill?
Yes, I suppose so.
That’s hard to say. Obviously, after what happened, it’s easier, with hindsight, to make that diagnosis than it was at the time. From the little I saw of her, she seemed merely depressed.
She was described in the newspapers, of course, as a ‘psycho’.
The word ‘psychopath’ has a precise clinical meaning. As many as twenty character traits help to define one. They would include, for instance, deceptive behaviour and lying, superficial charm, proneness to boredom, self-centredness, manipulativeness and, of course, lack of guilt or remorse. A psychopath is often promiscuous, has trouble maintaining relationships and tends to blame others for their actions.
And how many of these characteristics did you witness in Sherry Thomas?
It’s hard for me to say. I saw her a total of six times. You don’t find out a lot about people in five hours. Certainly, she was charming, but I never sensed that she was trying to manipulate me or that she was lying. On the other hand, I know that she suffered from acute boredom and, as I’ve said, that she was sexually promiscuous, often picking up men in bars for one-night stands.
Did she strike you as someone who was, not to put too fine a point on it, mad?
I object to the word ‘mad’.
Deranged. Not in her normal mind.
Actually, no. She didn’t strike me as being far beyond the pale. I liked her. She was trying hard to be honest with me, but it was clear that she had severe problems with living.
How did they manifest themselves?
She had a number of behaviours that might have qualified as compulsions. As I’ve said, she was extremely concerned with tidiness. Mess or clutter didn’t merely irritate her, it infuriated her. She brushed her teeth about five times a day. Also, and more unusually, she was obsessed with the videotaping process. It was no coincidence that she set up a surveil-lance shop. She told me – and this was interesting – that she found the constant disappearance of time very disturbing.
Of time?
Yes. Sh
e said it was like moments were constantly being lost, that they were dying all the while. She felt she needed to capture them, to preserve them. Of course, it was really herself she was trying to preserve, her sense of reality, or self, which was fragile. I think she had a constant fear of disappearance, an immense dread of the evanescence of things. Many people do, in some form or another, but her fear was particularly acute. She had clocks everywhere, always set to exactly the right time. She hated lateness with a passion.
What else?
She was fanatically clean – hated all forms of dirt. She was – and this is not typical of psychopathic behaviour – extremely self-controlled most of the time. It was as if efficiency and organization were substitutes for life itself, which eluded her in some peculiar way. She was concerned to achieve, to keep on the move, but this always left her deeply unhappy. And her ability to connect emotionally with others was always sabotaged by her obsessions. Her emotional responses were ultimately very shallow. If she wasn’t a psychopath, she was certainly borderline narcissistic.
Anything else?
Not that I can think of. She was superstitious – read the astrology columns, believed in destiny and that kind of thing. Thought it was all connected. Oh, yes, and she was fanatically patriotic. She believed America was the greatest country in the world.
If that’s the definition of psychopathy, it’s a lot more common than I realized.
[Ms Shilling does not laugh, and instead looks somewhat stern, reprimanding.]
We’re talking about a terrible tragedy here. I don’t think it’s a time for levity.
I’m sorry. Did she talk about Dr Seymour?
Yes, she did. But we’re going to have to leave that for another time. I’m sorry to cut you short. I have a client now.
Thank you for talking to me.
You’re welcome.
Dr Alex Seymour’s Video Diary, Excerpt One, Sunday, 6 May, Time Code 02.03
Author’s Note: Dr Seymour started recording a video diary on the night he returned home with the additional equipment. It does not amount to a great deal of tape – about thirty minutes in all. Perhaps the pressure he was under had led him to start recording himself as a kind of ‘confessional’ to assuage his guilt over his illicit activities. He was, after all, a lapsed Catholic. Samantha Seymour told me that in the past he had intermittently kept a written diary; this was just a new technology with which he had decided to experiment, presumably stimulated by his deployment of the other cameras in the house.