by PD Martin
Remorse:
Sadistic paedophiles generally don’t feel remorse. However, the presence of underwear on all the victims could indicate feelings of guilt over his actions—guilt over the sexual abuse and/or the murders.
It’s also possible that the murder of each boy is motivated by remorse for the sexual assault. The offender is overcome by guilt at what he’s done to the boys and kills them in a fit of displaced rage. He’s angry at himself, but he displaces this anger onto the person he perceives has “caused” him to behave in such an appalling way. In his rage, he kills them. He could also see the murder of these boys as setting them free from the shameful acts he’s committed on them—better for them to be dead than live with the memory of months of sexual abuse.
Notes:
The underwear could also symbolise the fact that he no longer sees these victims as sexual or never has.
Sadistic paedophiles generally torture their victims until that torture culminates in murder/death. However, the lack of other injuries such as broken bones is in contrast to this theory.
Sadistic paedophiles generally hold their victims for a matter of minutes/hours before killing them—unlike this perp who holds them for months.
If the murders were committed by a two-person team, it’s likely the submissive personality type cared for the boys and possibly also restored their “modesty” by partially clothing them.
Home life:
He’s currently living as a single person, and living alone. His home life would be very basic and would revolve around his male captives. In addition, he probably doesn’t have a very active social life. He’s isolated geographically and emotionally.
Car:
Most likely a ute/pick-up truck—this would fit in well in rural Victoria while also being an ideal vehicle to transport the victims’ bodies to a state park or other location once he’s killed them. He could also use it to transport the unconscious victims after abduction. An SUV or four-wheel drive is also possible.
Intelligence:
Moderate IQ (100-110)
Education level:
High school or maybe TAFE
Outward appearance:
He fits into his environs, so he probably looks like many country males in their sixties—shorts and T-shirt in summer, and jeans and long-sleeved shirts in winter. Although he’s an organised offender, this doesn’t extend to overt neatness or any other trait that may be visible in his outward appearance.
Criminal background:
The killer has been abducting and killing young boys for over thirty-five years (and presumably sexually assaulting them during the captivity). It’s possible he’s spent time in jail to account for our missing twenty-eight years in that cycle, however given how well-planned his crimes are it’s more likely that he was in another country or that he stopped while having and raising his own family.
If the murders were committed by a two-man team, with the dominant person from the seventies dying, it’s possible only the dominant personality type has a criminal record.
In terms of a criminal record, he most likely had early run-ins with the police before he started abducting and killing young boys. At school, these offences could have included bullying younger children. As a young adult there may have been acts of physical assault.
Modus operandi (MO):
He stalks the victims for an indeterminate length of time, getting to know where they live and their routines. He then abducts them from their homes, targeting a hot night when security at the home will be lowered or non-existent. The boys are either physically knocked unconscious or drugged using a fast-acting substance so they can be taken from their homes quietly.
The boys are held for roughly three to ten months and then killed, possibly by manual strangulation. Their bodies are then dumped in isolated locations (to date, state parks).
Signature:
It’s difficult to know what the killer’s signature is, given how old the bodies are when we find them. However, if the underwear doesn’t indicate remorse, it’s possible it has some other significance to the killer and is a signature element.
Post-offence behaviour:
Again, it is difficult to know what his post-offence behaviour is given the lack of forensic evidence from the bodies. However, the fact that he keeps the boys for so long indicates he takes his time with them while they’re alive. Once he’s killed them, he probably disposes of the bodies immediately.
Media tactics:
The media and any specific reports in the news probably won’t affect the perpetrator’s behaviour in any way. He’s not driven by ego, although he probably has been watching the news coverage. Additionally, he’s a confident killer who probably feels untouchable—after all, he has been killing for over thirty-five years.
‘I know what Faulkner’s going to say already.’ Lily lets out a sigh.
‘I can imagine. I bet there are way too many instances of the words “probably” and “possibly” in it for him.’
‘Uh huh. Not to mention “either”…it means either this or that.’
‘It’s part of the job, I guess.’ And while it can be part of profiling, certainly this profile is one of the most ambiguous I’ve ever drafted. An ambiguity reflecting the complexity of this case.
‘Yeah.’ Lily sounds hesitant.
I change the topic. ‘How’d you go with New Zealand and the Asian countries?’
‘I’m starting with New Zealand first. It’s the most likely country given our perp would need a visa to work in other countries. The Kiwi ViCLAS analyst is looking into it for me. What about you? I bet you made a few calls.’
‘I did call one of my Interpol contacts in the South East Asian bureau. Nothing back yet.’
‘Well, at this stage I guess it’ll be tomorrow for New Zealand.’
I nod. It’s 6pm here, which means 9pm in New Zealand. If the New Zealand analyst thought Curtis Baker might only have hours to live he’d undoubtedly stay up all night. But we all know the most likely scenario: Baker’s life isn’t in any immediate danger and he would have already been sexually assaulted.
A scream sounds from another room and Curtis Baker huddles closer into the hard springs of the mattress. He doesn’t want to be next, but he knows it’s also wrong to wish it onto whoever’s in the room next to him.
He turns his head to the boarded up window and a few thin slices of light catch his eyes, burning. Morning? Evening? Has to be one or the other with the light so low. It’s hard to keep track of day or night, but he thinks it’s been two days since he woke up with a hand across his mouth. Next thing he knew he was here.
He turns his head into the light again, trying to figure out the time of day, but it’s impossible, so he buries his face into the mattress again, into the darkness.
Sometimes the blackness is better. He keeps his eyes firmly shut as he hears a key unlock his door.
Chapter 9
The domestic terminal of Melbourne Airport is in peak-hour madness, with business travellers flying in and out. Darren couldn’t get a direct flight, so the poor guy had to sit in Sydney for five hours once he’d cleared Customs. On the plus side, because he’s on a domestic flight I’ll be able to meet him right at the gate as he disembarks.
The security line to get to the terminals is hellishly long, but I brave it, keen to see Darren. It takes over twenty minutes to get through security, which means I end up getting to the gate just as the first batch of passengers is disembarking.
Suits rush past me to their Melbourne meetings, while I stand on tippy-toes for my first glance of Darren. After what seems like forever, and just about every passenger, I see him. His hair is messier than usual and his face a little pale. I wave my hands until he sees me, a big surprised grin erupting on his face.
He quickens his step and pulls me into him. ‘Hi, babe.’ He looks tired, and it reminds me that I’m still feeling sluggish from my own journey here. Well, that and my hectic schedule.
I lean my hea
d into the side of his neck. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’
‘Me too,’ he says before kissing my cheek. ‘It took a lot to convince Rory to come back to work early. And I owe him some painting duties when I get back.’
I laugh. Darren’s colleague was using his vacation time to fix up his house. He came back a week early so Darren could race out to me.
We start walking, holding hands. ‘What’s the latest?’ he asks.
I’d told Darren about Curtis Baker and the missing boys from the past, but he’s been in transit while we were finalising the profile and contacting New Zealand and a few Asian countries. I fill him in on these details.
‘I’d say we’ll hear back from New Zealand soon. They’re three hours ahead, which makes it 11am.’
‘Sounds like you’re in the loop.’
‘Kinda. Via the Vic Police’s profiler, Lily Murphy.’
Darren nods, recognising her name and position. ‘I’m glad she’s helping you out.’
I let out a sigh. ‘Me too. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d stonewalled me like Homicide did.’
‘Any interesting dreams? Visions?’
‘Nothing new.’
‘It must be a relief that you don’t have to hide it from your folks any more.’
‘It is…I always wanted to tell them, just never knew how.’ Last time I’d spoken to Darren on the phone, I’d filled him in on mum’s revelation.
He gives another little nod, and I can tell he’s mulling something else over.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
He smiles. ‘Don’t have my game face on, huh?’
‘Nope. You’re probably too exhausted.’
He gives my hand a squeeze. ‘I was wondering if you’d tried going back to your first home. Or visiting John’s grave?’
I wince. I haven’t been to either location for many, many years.
‘No…I haven’t even considered that.’ I lead us through the gates and down the escalators to the baggage carousels. ‘I don’t think it’d help. I’m too close to John, and it’s unlikely I’ll get something now, after all these years.’
A little sigh escapes from his lips. ‘I think it’d be good for you, Soph. Even if it doesn’t trigger your gift. And maybe the fact that you’re so shut off when it comes to John is why you’ve never seen anything more about him or his murder.’
My jaw tightens. ‘I don’t think I want to, Darren. Okay?’
He brings us to a stop and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘It’s not just you now. You have to think about the other boy.’
I flinch—he’s coming out swinging. He knows that I’m ruled by my sense of justice, my desire to right the wrongs and catch psychos before they do any more damage. And this guy sure as hell is doing more damage. He’s destroying so many lives. Are the Bakers on the same path as my mum and Mrs Strawasky?
I’m saved by the bell, literally, as a loud beep signals the start of the nearest conveyor belt. A quick glance shows me it’s for Darren’s Sydney-Melbourne flight, and I move towards it. But Darren doesn’t let it go that easily, grabbing my hand and giving a little tug until I turn back to him.
‘Just think about it, okay? You’re going to have to face this some time, you know. And now with John’s murderer out there again…now is the time.’
‘Let’s just get the bags.’
He crosses his arms. ‘Fine.’
The trip back to Camberwell is icy and I’m not sure if the freeze-dry is coming from me or Darren. Or maybe both of us. I was so looking forward to seeing him and to having him here and now this is how we’re spending our first hour together. The worst part is, it’s a recurring pattern…Lily, then Matt last night and now Darren. They’re all saying the same thing—that I’ve never dealt with John’s death. While I prefer to feign ignorance, I know they’re right. But even acknowledging that feels like a major chink in my armour. And if I admit it to them, to anyone, I’m afraid it’ll open a valve that can never be switched off. And to feel that pain every day? To feel so raw, every day? I don’t think I could do my job any more. I don’t think I’d be me.
Finally, when the silence feels like it’s about to crash in on me, Darren speaks.
‘Not exactly the best start to my first time in Oz.’
‘No.’
‘Look, I know maybe I was a little heavy handed, but I worry about how switched off you are. I understand it, I do. We all have to do it in this job to a certain extent.’ He takes a breath. ‘But this is your brother, Soph. Your flesh and blood.’
‘I know.’ I chomp down on my bottom lip and then catch myself out and stop. ‘You’re not the only one who’s been singing this song.’
‘Your folks been giving you a hard time?’
‘No, not them. Lily Murphy, and then my ex paid me a late-night visit last night.’
‘Last night?’ There’s a hint of jealousy in Darren’s voice.
‘Don’t worry, it was barely amicable. I never told him what happened to John. Well, I told him John died in a car accident.’
‘Ouch.’ Darren rubs his hand over sizable stubble. ‘That’s gonna hurt.’
‘Yup. And he heard it on the news first.’
Another ouch escapes Darren’s lips. ‘Makes me kinda wonder what you’re hiding from me.’
‘Come on, Darren. You know about my brother and my gift. That’s two out of two when it comes to my secrets and demons.’
He reaches his hand across to my knee. ‘Good.’
We spend the rest of the trip talking about the profile. Darren, with his extra experience in child abductions, agrees with every element but is also concerned by some of the problems: the time gap with no conclusive explanation, the fact that the boys are kept so long before being killed.
‘We had a rapist in Arizona a few years back who was displaying inconsistent behaviour—violent and aggressive with his victims and then remorseful afterwards.’
‘That’s not uncommon,’ I say. ‘Especially for a rapist.’
‘No. Many perps feel remorse after the anger subsides. But this seemed different and it was. The guy had multiple personality disorder. The stress of the rape would bring out an alter, who felt remorseful.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘That would explain how the boys are cared for, but still abducted and then killed.’ And explain it well. ‘But multiple personality disorder, MPD, is quite rare—particularly in males.’
‘That’s what the psychiatrist who worked the case at trial said. Rare, but still possible.’
‘True.’ I nod. ‘And this guy’s core was the rapist?’
When describing someone with MPD, we speak about their core personality, which is their “original” personality and their alter—or alters. Sufferers could have one core and one alter, or lots of alters, all within the one “host”.
‘The doc decided the core was the rapist, and the guy had two alters, one who helped him target the women and another alter who was very moralistic and good.’
‘Mmm. Interesting. We have been thinking about a two-man team, with one dominant and one submissive. But this would be that package in one person. One personality type is the sadistic paedophile that stalks and abducts the kids, and then another type could take over and protect the kids. The pattern goes on for months, until finally the sadistic personality takes it too far and kills the boy. The other personality feels guilty and covers the boys’ genitals to superficially hide the sadist’s actions.
‘Does it matter if it’s the core or the alter doing the actual killing?’
I shrug. ‘I guess if it’s the alter doing everything, a conviction may be tricky. The defence will claim their client’s not responsible and just needs medication.’
Darren blows out a long breath. ‘I’ve only worked the one case with MPD, but it sure was bizarre. I thought the guy was faking it.’
‘That’s a common problem. It’s hard for us to reconcile two or three totally different people effectively living in the same body. Eve
n close family and friends find it difficult to believe.’
I turn into our driveway and the crunching of gravel under the tyres is a familiar and welcome sound.
‘Nice place.’
Camberwell is a leafy suburb, and it’s definitely one of Melbourne’s more expensive areas—although it’s family comfort rather than the chic and often snobby feel of South Yarra or Toorak. Our family home is dark red brick, quite big and on a large block of land. The gardens are more than well looked after, thanks to both Mum and Dad, and while many of the more traditional, flowery plants have made way for succulents in recent years, the large front area is still colourful and perfectly structured, giving a good first impression.
Before I’ve even put the car in park, the front door of the house opens…enter Mum and Dad.
‘Darren, hi!’ Mum moves quickly towards us and plants a kiss on Darren’s cheek. ‘Good to see you again.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Anderson. You too.’
‘Now, now, it’s Jan, remember.’
Darren smiles. ‘Sorry, Jan.’
Dad holds his hand out. ‘Welcome to Melbourne, Darren.’
They exchange a firm but friendly handshake. ‘Thanks, Bob.’
‘The flight’s a nightmare, isn’t it?’
Darren manages a small laugh. ‘It’s pretty bad, all right.’
‘You’ll get used to it.’ Mum gives him a wink. ‘Come on, let’s get you settled.’
Darren’s opted for two smaller bags, and he and Dad take one bag each.
‘We’re so glad you’re here, Darren.’ Mum, who’s leading the way, turns back to him.