Psychopaths also sometimes make it difficult for their listeners to understand parts of their narrative. “I met these guys in a bar. One guy was a dealer and the other was a pimp. They started to hassle me and I punched him out,” said one of our psychopaths. But was it the dealer or the pimp who was “punched out”?
Of course, minor breakdowns in communication are not uncommon in normal people; in many cases they represent little more than carelessness or a momentary lapse in concentration. But in psychopaths the breakdowns are more frequent, more serious, and possibly indicative of an underlying condition in which the organization of mental activity—but not its content—is defective. It is how they string words and sentences together, not what they actually say, that suggests abnormality. By way of contrast, both the form and the content of schizophrenic communications are characteristically odd and bizarre. For example, one of our subjects, who later received a diagnosis of schizophrenia, replied to the question, “Do your moods go up and down?” as follows:
I’m just such a—believer that—uh—that life is so short and that we’re here for such a short time and so—so we’re all going to die anyway at one stage so then—uh—you—we—pass on to a totally new strata and all the problems of this world for us are solved and then we have a new set of problems and a new set of joys—whichever one—uh—it’s not something I claim to understand.
This reply is odd in both form and content and is difficult to understand. The psychopath’s reply to the same question, described above, although tangential and somewhat strange, can be interpreted as being evasive or glib. We can infer some sort of meaning more readily from his reply than we can from the schizophrenic’s reply.
It is well known that psychopaths often convincingly malinger—fake mental illness—when it is to their advantage to do so. For example, an inmate I described earlier was able to con his way into a psychiatric unit—and back out again—by slanting his responses to the questions on a widely used psychological test.
A FEW YEARS ago I was asked to consult on a Hollywood feature film about a psychopathic serial killer. The filmmakers had great concern for accuracy and had researched the subject as thoroughly as they were able. But the scriptwriter phoned me one day in near desperation. “How can I make my character interesting?” he asked. “When I try to get into his head, try to work out his motivations, desires, and hangups in a way that will make some sort of sense to the audience, I draw a blank. These guys [the two psychopaths in the story] are too much alike, and there doesn’t seem to be much of interest below the surface.”
In a sense the screenwriter had nailed it: As portrayed in film and story, psychopaths do tend to be two-dimensional characters without the emotional depth and the complex and confusing drives, conflicts, and psychological turmoil that make even ordinary people interesting and different from one another. Invariably, psychopaths are depicted as cardboard characters, and while considerable effort is devoted to graphic, gory, riveting, and gratuitous descriptions of what they do—Hannibal Lecter, in The Silence of the Lambs, overwhelms people with his pompous erudition and eats them when he can—we seldom learn very much about what makes them tick.
To a certain extent, these media depictions may reflect reality. Virtually all investigations into the psychopath’s inner world paint an arid picture. The philosophy of life that these individuals espouse usually is banal, sophomoric, and devoid of the detail that enriches the lives of normal adults.
A particularly revealing illustration of the psychopath’s ability to manipulate experienced psychiatrists and psychologists is provided in Terry Ganey’s book about Charles Hatcher, who killed at least sixteen people because it gave him a thrill.20 Following a charge for murdering a six-year-old boy, he was shuttled back and forth between the courts and a forensic psychiatric hospital. Psychiatrists appointed by the court determined that Hatcher was incompetent to stand trial, but the psychiatrists at the hospital considered him competent to stand trial. And so it went, back and forth. After a seemingly endless series of contradictory psychiatric evaluations, Hatcher tired of the game and turned his talents to outmaneuvering the lawyers and the courts.
However, the evidence presented in this chapter suggests that it may not only be the psychopath’s skill at manipulation that sometimes makes it difficult for clinicians to evaluate his or her sanity. An interview in which a psychopath’s statements are contradictory, tangential, or poorly connected to one another is bound to influence astute clinical judgment. For example, the trial of John Wayne Gacy, the Chicago businessman and serial killer who performed as Pogo the clown for sick children, was marked by contradictory psychiatric testimony.21 Prosecution experts argued that he was a psychopath and sane, whereas defense experts said that he was psychotic or insane. One psychologist said that he was a psychopathic or antisocial personality with sexual deviation, and that during interviews Gacy’s statements were marked by contradictions, evasiveness, and rationalizations and excuses. A psychiatrist noted that Gacy just liked to talk. Under cross-examination the psychiatrist was asked “if Gacy’s effusive stream of talk didn’t demonstrate loose associations, a characteristic of schizophrenia. ‘When Mr. Gacy says on one hand ... he killed someone and on the next hand he says he didn’t do it, is that loose association?’ ” The psychiatrist replied, “I think that’s lying. I think he doesn’t remember what he says from one day to the next because he lies.” [p. 338] The jury rejected Gacy’s insanity plea and recommended the death sentence.
Gacy’s “loose associations” and his contradictory statements and lies may reflect little more than mental carelessness, lack of interest in keeping things straight for the listener, or part of a strategy intended to confuse the listener. However, in the context of the material presented in this chapter, they also may stem from a condition in which continuity among mental events and the self-monitoring of speech are defective, perhaps even disordered: mental Scrabble without an overall script.
This raises an important issue: If their speech is sometimes peculiar, why are psychopaths so believable, so capable of deceiving and manipulating us? Why do we fail to pick up the inconsistencies in what they say? The short answer is, it is difficult to penetrate their mask of normalcy: The oddities in their speech are often too subtle for the casual observer to detect, and they put on a good show. We are sucked in not by what they say but by how they say it and by the emotional buttons they push while saying it.
DURING A TALK I recently gave at a university in California, a linguist in the audience suggested that in some respects psychopaths resemble skilled story-tellers. Both use exaggerated body language and twists and turns in the plot that engage and hold the interest of listeners and “bring them into the story.” For many listeners the performance is at least as important as the story. The linguist suggested that, in this sense, psychopatfis are effective story-tellers. Even so, the scripts followed by story-tellers generally are more coherent and logically consistent than are those used by psychopaths. Further, the goals of story-tellers include entertainment and education, whereas tfiose of psychopaths consist of little more than power and self-gratification.
DOES THIS MEAN
THEY’RE CRAZY?
Contradictory, inconsistent statements! Emotional poverty! I’m sure that by now you are troubled by a nagging question: Are these people sane? Are we back to the old mad-versus-bad debate?
Following a lecture I gave on psychopathy and language at a psychiatric conference in Florida, a forensic psychiatrist approached me and said, “Your research implies that psychopaths may be mentally disordered, perhaps not as responsible for their behavior as we once thought. Until now, a diagnosis of psychopathy has been ‘the kiss of death’ for many murderers. Will it now become the ‘kiss of life’ for them?”
An interesting question. As I mentioned earlier, psychopaths do meet current legal and psychiatric standards for sanity. They understand the rules of society and the conventional meanings of right and wrong. They are capable
of controlling their behavior, and they are aware of the potential consequences of their acts. Their problem is that this knowledge frequently fails to deter them from antisocial behavior.
Still, some observers argue, psychopaths are deficient in the mental and emotional mechanisms needed to translate their knowledge of the rules into behavior acceptable to society. If they have failed to develop a conscience, are unable to experience guilt or remorse, and have difficulty in monitoring their behavior and its effects on others, the argument runs, then surely they are at a serious disadvantage compared to the rest of us. They understand the intellectual rules of the game but the emotional rules are lost to them. This modern version of the old concept of “moral insanity” may make some theoretical sense, but it is not relevant to practical decisions about criminal responsibility. In my opinion, psychopaths certainly know enough about what they are doing to be held accountable for their actions.
Chapter 9
Flies in the Web
People can be induced to swallow anything, provided it is sufficiently seasoned with praise.
—Moliere, The Miser (1668), 1, tr. John Wood
The State policeman stands back as a woman gets out of her car. He has pulled her over for topping eighty on a narrow rural road.
It is generally against protocol for a traffic violator to get out of the vehicle—the standing posture of the officer gives him a physical advantage and contributes to his aura of authority. And yet she emerged so confidently, smiled so winningly. She isn’t really beautiful, but the direct eye contact she makes is powerfully attractive. He asks for her license and resists her attempts at conversation—for the moment. Finally, though, he gives in to her bantering style and writes out only a warning. A boy was killed on this stretch of road only last month, he says. The officer watches her climb back into her car and drive away, fighting to keep himself from waving in her rearview mirror.
Most of us accept the terms and rules of human interaction. But there are always people who use their appearance and charm—natural or contrived—to convince others to do their will. And in each case, the “victim’s” needs and vulnerabilities help to determine the outcome of the exchange. Mostly, the outcomes are relatively harmless, part of the everyday interactions among people.
But in cases where a psychopath is involved, the impact on the victim can be catastrophic. Psychopaths tend to see any social exchange as a “feeding” opportunity, a contest, or a test of wills, in which there can be only one winner. Their motives are to manipulate and take, ruthlessly and without remorse.
SHOWTIME
As I discussed earlier, although psychopaths may talk a lot they are not necessarily skilled wordsmiths. It is primarily the “show,” not eloquent use of language, that attracts our attention and cons us. Good looks, a touch of charisma, a flood of words, contrived distractions, a knack for knowing which buttons to press—all these can go a long way toward obscuring the fact that the psychopathic presentation is nothing more than a “line.” A good-looking, fast-talking psychopath and a victim who has “weak spots” is a devastating combination. If the psychopath’s “show” is not enough, the adroit use of “stage props”—phony credentials, flashy car, expensive clothes, a sympathy-inducing role, and so forth—will usually complete the job.
Of course, psychopaths are not the only ones capable of theatrical displays. We all know people who are always “on stage,” flamboyant, given to the use of verbal and gestural exaggerations and gimmicks. Many of their interactions with others are no doubt shallow and insincere, designed to make a good impression, bolster a poor self-image, or achieve professional or political goals. But unlike psychopaths, their intention is not simply to suck others dry.
Society runs on trust, and we ordinarily pay more attention to what someone says than to the accompanying nonverbal behavior—hand gestures, facial movements, smiles, eye contact. However, when the speaker is attractive and gives a really impressive nonverbal performance, the effect can be reversed—we watch the show and pay little attention to what is said.1
THE “PROPS” USED by some imposters seem bizarre, even stupid, to most people, but there is no shortage of eager believers. For six years Ed Lopes, fifty-six years old, posed as a Baptist minister who had found God on death row. Lopes claimed to have had a fifteen-year career as a mafia hit man for Murder, Inc., during which he had executed twenty-eight people. Nevertheless, he told his flock, and other church groups throughout Washington State, that he had been counseled by Billy Graham, and that petitions from 350 prison employees persuaded the parole board to let him go free. Recently unmasked, Lopes admitted to being a parole jumper from Illinois who had strangled his second wife, beaten to death another woman, and stabbed and choked a girlfriend. His congregation’s response? Some members were upset, but others raised his bail, set at a surprisingly low $5,000, and rallied to his support. The court quickly had second thoughts about the low bail and returned him to jail to await proceedings for return to Illinois, [from the Associated Press, January 8 and 10, 1992]
Again, psychopaths often make effective use of body language when they speak, and often it is hard not to follow their actions with our eyes. Psychopaths also tend to intrude into our personal space—for example, by means of intensive eye contact, leaning forward, moving closer, and so forth. Overall, their display can be so dramatic or unnerving that it serves to distract, impress, control, or intimidate us, drawing our attention away from what is actually being said. “I didn’t follow everything he said, but he said it so beautifully. He has such a gorgeous smile,” said a woman who had been bilked by one of the psychopaths we studied.
One of my former colleagues, trapped in a web of passion and deceit spun by a wife he was sure was a psychopath, stated, “She made my life a hell but I feel bereft without her. She was always doing something exciting, outrageous even. She would disappear for weeks at a time, without ever really explaining where she had been. We went through just a load of money—all my savings, the mortgage on the house. But she made me feel really alive. My mind was always messed up when she was around. I couldn’t think clearly about anything but her.” The marriage ended painfully for him when she moved in with another man. “She didn’t even leave a note,” he told me.
BUTTONS
If you have any weak spots in your psychological makeup, a psychopath is sure to find and exploit them, leaving you hurt and bewildered. The examples below illustrate the uncanny ability of psychopaths to detect our vulnerabilities and to push the right buttons.
• In an interview, one of our psychopaths, a con artist, said candidly, “When I’m on the job the first thing I do is I size you up. I look for an angle, an edge, figure out what you need and give it to you. Then it’s pay-back time, with interest. I tighten the screws.”
• William Bradfield, the psychopathic teacher I described earlier, “never stalked attractive women.... [He] could smell insecurity and loneliness the way a pig smells truffles.”2
• In a chilling auditorium scene in the movie Cape Fear, the psychopathic character played by Robert DeNiro mesmerizes and practically seduces a fifteen-year-old girl by playing on her awakening sexuality.
The callous use of the lonely is a trademark of psychopaths. One of our subjects used to seek out depressed, unhappy women at singles’ bars. After moving in with one of these women, he convinced her that she needed a car, and sold his to her for four thousand dollars. He promptly took off before the formal transfer of ownership could be made—with the car, of course. She was too embarrassed to press charges.
Some psychopaths, particularly those in prison, initially contact their victims through the lonely-hearts columns. Letters often lead to visits and, inevitably, to disillusionment and pain for the victims. Several years ago one of my former students, a lover of Siamese cats, put an ad in a lonely-hearts column, and several replies came from prison inmates, including a psychopath whom she had previously interviewed as part of our research on psychopathy. The prose in his l
etter was flowery, full of syrupy descriptions of warm sunsets, long walks in the rain, loving relationships, the beauty and mystery of Siamese cats, and so forth, all of which stood in stark contrast to his documented record of violence toward both sexes.
• Psychopaths have no hesitation in making use of people’s need to find a purpose in their lives, or in preying on the confused, the frail, and the helpless. One of our subjects carefully studied newspaper obituaries, looking for elderly people who had just lost a spouse and who had no remaining family members. In one case, posing as a “grief counselor,” he persuaded a seventy-year-old widow to give him power of attorney over her affairs. His scheme fell apart only because an alert church minister became suspicious, checked up on the impostor, and learned that he was a convicted swindler out on parole. “She was lonely, and I was attempting to bring some joy into her life,” said our subject.
• Psychopaths recognize and turn to their own advantage the “hang-ups” and self-doubts that most people have. In his book The Silence of the Lambs [pp. 20-22], Thomas Harris describes a revealing scene in which Dr. Hannibal Lecter—“a pure sociopath”—quickly and skillfully manages to detect and use to his advantage FBI agent Starling’s weak spot: her fear of being “common.”
Agent Starling was a novice at dealing with psychopaths, but even those familiar with the disorder have buttons that can be pressed. Virtually every psychiatrist, social worker, nurse, or psychologist who has worked for any length of time in a mental hospital or prison knows of at least one staff member whose life was turned upside down by a psychopathic patient or inmate. In one case a staff psychologist with a solid professional reputation—and a nonexistent social life—ran off with one of her psychopathic patients. Two weeks later, after cleaning out her bank account and charging the maximum on her credit cards, he dumped her. Her career ruined and her dreams of a loving relationship shattered, she told an interviewer that her life had been empty and that she simply had succumbed to his blandishments and promises.
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