by Megan Norris
Robertson, it appears, pursued this fantasy of becoming a famous somebody with tragic desperation. She blamed her parents for her own lack of achievement in life. When she became a parent, she says, she would ensure everything was ‘set up perfectly’ to help her children achieve their dreams. She wrote of her plans to do this; by recruiting an agent for them; by organising dancing classes, acting courses and singing lessons. She would do everything in her power to make sure her children made it.
These letters were written five full years before she found a symbol for her fantasy. That symbol was Rachel Barber, according to Caroline – the perfect girl.
All of this evidence then seems to beg the question: was Robertson mad when she killed Rachel Barber? Mr Lovitt argued that while she might not have been legally insane at the time she murdered, her writings nevertheless showed that she was profoundly disturbed. Experts assessing Robertson agreed: there was no evidence of any recognised mental illness. They were divided on the subject of whether she had been actively depressed at the time of the crime, but agreed she’d been significantly depressed following her detection and arrest. All agreed she now suffered from a major depressive illness.
‘She could tell me that she felt the worst she’d ever felt and she described feelings of helplessness which you often see in someone who suffers a major depressive illness, a psychiatric illness,’ said Dr Barry-Walsh. But he said that while he could find no other symptoms to support the diagnosis that she was suffering from an identifiable psychiatric illness at the time of the offence, he couldn’t discount it either, just that he believed it was possible that she was actively depressed. ‘I couldn’t put it higher than that,’ he said.
‘I think the two most striking things are her recurrent self-denigratory comments, and just the sort of avalanche of them,’ Dr Barry-Walsh continued.
‘The other thing that struck me was her relationship with her father, someone that she had problems relating to, but nevertheless she clearly very much wanted to have a relationship and saw it as being very important. But the theme of self-esteem just recurs, just its content and prevalence through the writings.’
In his opinion the murder of Rachel Barber was the product of a disturbed, dysfunctional woman with a ‘marked disorder of personality’. Robertson’s belief that she was a misfit among her peers had been reinforced, the court heard, when she developed epilepsy in her mid-teens, heightening her feelings of abnormality and ‘otherness’.
Barry-Walsh said that while many of the fits were genuine epileptic seizures, some of the evidence suggested that others might have been subconsciously precipitated by stress. He agreed with Justice Vincent’s observations that some of the episodes could have been ‘pseudo-fits’, but this didn’t mean she was ‘faking’ them. They could have been anxiety-induced: her subconscious was seeking temporary escape from stress.
Like the other experts, however, he conceded that Robertson had been fit to plead to the charge of murder and knew right from wrong when she killed her victim. She was not, he said, legally insane.
However, a clinical forensic psychologist, Mr Jeffrey Cummins, later stated that her disturbed state of mind at the time of the killing raised questions about her ability to appreciate her blameworthiness for her conduct. He said her writings, her mental state in her mid to late teens and her unhappy family background had contributed to her ‘extreme and bizarre’ behaviour at the time of the crime, leading him to form the view that she was ‘in part out of touch with reality’.
But quite unexpectedly, Mr Cummins’s testimony led to fresh evidence emerging that offered a new explanation for the cause of the defendant’s psychological state.
Justice Vincent told Mr Cummins he wanted to explore a previously unaired issue that had not received much attention during the hearing. Directing Cummins to a section of his report on Robertson, the judge asked if there was any ‘real substance’ to the defendant’s claims that she had been the childhood victim of some past sexual trauma. His Honour said that if there was any truth to these allegations, it might explain Robertson’s low self-esteem and self-hatred from a young age.
‘At the end of the day, I have to consider what sentence is to be imposed upon this young woman,’ Justice Vincent said. ‘It is one thing to regard as inexplicable the development of an intense degree of self-hatred, an intense degree of animosity towards others and jealousy and envy and so forth, and a preparedness to destroy – not only her own personality, but the life of someone else as a consequence. That’s a very difficult scenario to contemplate in a variety of senses,’ he said.
But if these behaviours, he continued, were placed in the context of a young woman ‘abused from a young age, and badly’ then the existence of such a background history might explain her warped frame of mind, her low self-esteem and make her writings ‘entirely consistent’ with a history of sexual trauma. What otherwise appeared to be an inexplicable murder might then be better understood.
‘The white picket fence references, and all that sort of thing,’ Justice Vincent asked, ‘are all, of course, very easily integrated into that kind of scenario?’ Justice Vincent said everyone had been ‘very coy’ about discussing the issue and was aware that Robertson herself had not wanted the alleged sexual abuse story raised in her defence. This placed her barrister in a difficult position, constrained by his client’s instructions. And he said that while he accepted Mr Cummins’s refusal to breach doctor-patient confidentiality by elaborating on the prisoner’s alleged past, the question of whether she had truly been the victim of sexual abuse was relevant when considering rehabilitation and sentencing.
‘What is presented before me is a history of childhood sexual abuse which, of course, to my observation and experience, over many years, can produce enormous personal damage and lack of self-esteem in young teenagers,’ said the judge. ‘How prominently do you perceive that consideration as featuring in your analysis of her situation?’
‘Very significantly, Your Honour,’ responded the witness.
Mr Cummins said he didn’t believe Robertson had concocted the story to attract sympathy, since she would then have raised the issue much earlier in her assessment and insisted on having it aired in court to assist her. Instead she had refused to allow the matters to be raised, or even explored further, which was of no benefit to her at all.
Cummins agreed though, that Robertson had told her story only after being probed about possible abuse. He said he would raise issues of sexual abuse routinely in such cases, agreeing that he had already read about her claims of abuse in Crewdson’s report. During his assessment Robertson gave more details but said she didn’t want them repeated.
Robertson, he said, was now more psychologically at ease than she had been in years. He said it was his view that she was now exhibiting symptoms indicative of reactive agitated depression, thought to be a response to immediate stressors such as the court case and her present incarceration. Mr Cummins said he, like Mr Crewdson, had also identified a number of aspects of her presentation which were consistent with Robertson possibly having a borderline personality disorder, though he was more inclined to say that her negative ruminative thinking, low self-esteem and self-doubting were more consistent with major depression.
Justice Vincent then took an unusual step. He decided to call Robertson’s treating psychologist, Michael Crewdson, into the witness box. This was the man who, many speculated, offered the greatest insight into the prisoner’s behaviour. He had seen her every week since her arrest and knew most about her. Surprisingly, he was the only medical expert who had not been called as a key witness for the defence.
‘It is not the practice for judges, nor is it appropriate for judges, to be calling witnesses who the parties have decided not to call before them on a plea,’ said Justice Vincent. ‘But in the particular circumstances of this matter, and because of personal concerns which I experience in relation to the way in which I have to go about dealing with this matter, I decided that it was ap
propriate for me to do so.’
The judge wanted to explore further the possibility of sexual abuse. ‘I don’t know how far I can take it,’ responded Crewdson, referring to professional doctor-patient confidentiality. He did, however, confirm that the details of Robertson’s alleged abuse, while limited, appeared to cause ‘an immense amount of distress’ to her. If the statements were true, he said, they provided the court with a clinically demonstrable track through the self-esteem issues, the depression and the teenage years themselves – explaining the crime as ‘an acting out of internal conflicts’. But whether the prisoner’s story was founded in reality or not, her eventual act of strangling the young dancer, and her mental state leading up to the killing, illustrated a ‘common joining together of issues’, he said.
Justice Vincent said his parole board experience had led him to read ‘vast amounts of material’ relating to victims of sexual abuse and stated that everything about the prisoner’s history was consistent with that picture. ‘There is nothing that jars,’ he said. But, if it were untrue, it could indicate the basis of some other psychological disturbance underlying Robertson’s behaviour – right up to the present time. And that would provide an entirely different basis for the ‘horrendously tragic action and killing’.
Mr Crewdson told the court that he believed Robertson was suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome. Though more usually an illness suffered by victims of violent crime, PTS was an illness that could affect the perpetrator of an offence too. He explained that Robertson was so traumatised by the murder of Rachel Barber that this form of dissociation was likely to be the cause of her amnesia. He said that in spite of this post-traumatic ‘distancing’ from her crime, being apprehended and incarcerated provided some catharsis as Robertson attempted to internally resolve her guilt and shame. Ironically though, the fearful prospect of being sentenced remained a barrier to any further recall at present.
He said he had no reason to doubt Caroline Reed Robertson’s story that she continued to be ‘haunted’ by her actions – plagued by repeated memories of them at night when she tried to sleep. But she was not a young woman facing trial for an awful murder, he said. For her, at a fantasy level, she was still a young child in trouble again, where revelation of her motive brought the prospect of even more fearful punishment.
30
THE SENTENCE
Three weeks elapsed before Justice Frank Vincent announced a date for sentencing. He had already warned lawyers representing both parties at the plea hearing that since his burden of responsibility was ‘heavy,’ he would have to think long and deeply about the evidence.
The Barber family learnt on Monday, 27 November 2000 that the judge had made his decision. Robertson would be sentenced on Wednesday at 10 a.m. and attending media would be issued with a written statement outlining his decision.
Caroline Robertson, looking pale and distant, filed into the Supreme Court through a side door for the final time. Escorted by two uniformed guards, she was led past a watchful and cramped press bench to her seat where she stayed, head bowed, avoiding the eyes of her estranged parents who sat well apart in the public gallery behind her.
Barristers for both sides, shuffling black robes and paperwork, and whispering among themselves, their grey wigs still glistening with raindrops from the downpour outside the historic building, took their places in the bowl of the court. The Barbers, joined by the Carella family together with friends, relatives and many of Rachel’s fellow dance students, sat in a nervous silence. And waited.
In his opening address Justice Vincent told the packed court that while a great deal was known about the circumstances surrounding the crime, material relating to other important matters ‘remained silent’. But the broader sequence of events was clear and essential features on which sentence would be determined had been set out in the narrative provided by the Crown.
The judge, summarising the case against Robertson, said it was clear that the defendant had developed ‘some level of fascination’ with Rachel as far back as 1997. Her writings suggested that this became an ‘abnormal, almost obsessional’ interest. And Justice Vincent said the prisoner’s reference to the proposed disfigurement of her victim’s body in the murder plan was indicative of the degree of jealousy she felt towards Rachel and her family.
The reconstructed notes indicated to him that it had been the prisoner’s intention to assume a false identity after murdering her victim. But he thought this a ‘curious’ scheme, lacking the careful planning of the actual murder plot. Evidence suggested that little thought had gone into the activities which followed the young dancer’s death, or into Caroline’s own ‘curious disappearance’ which was to culminate in her developing a new identity. No financial arrangements had been made before the murder to help facilitate the identity-swap plan; no careful scheme had been formulated to help dispose of the victim’s body – and, His Honour noted, Robertson must have been fearful of the risk of attracting attention when faced with the prospect of removing the body from her wardrobe to the country.
By contrast, the murder plan involved a number of steps, and considerable time to execute, he said. Robertson’s every action had been aimed at keeping Rachel Barber under control, while carefully avoiding arousing suspicion. ‘I find the deliberation and malevolence with which you acted extremely disturbing,’ he said. Despite all the unknowns in this bizarre case, he was satisfied Robertson had encompassed the young dancer’s death in her thoughts for a substantial period before finally moving against her. ‘In any event, whatever period may have been involved, there can be no doubt that your actions were carried out after extensive deliberation, and to a great degree, in a calculated fashion.’
Justice Vincent considered that the ‘device’ the prisoner employed to induce Rachel Barber to her home had also been given considerable thought. The victim would have been vulnerable to this approach by Robertson: ‘Indeed, what normal person would have contemplated the terrible existence of such a chilling design or that she was the subject of such hatred?’ he said. ‘I have no doubt that you appreciated that the combination of a slightly adventurous but harmless secrecy, and the prospect of obtaining what she referred to as “a heap of money”, that would enable her to purchase some shoes that took her fancy, would have been very attractive to a person of her age and apparent temperament.
‘Your planning in this respect possessed subtlety and demonstrates the operation of a devious mind and your possession of considerable manipulative abilities.
‘I suspect that the twin fires of a powerful obsession with the perceived attributes of Rachel Barber, and an intense hatred of her for possessing them, increasingly consumed your thoughts, driving out any serious consideration of the practical unreality of achieving your desire, and motivated you to act before you were fully prepared. This view is, I think, consistent with your general conduct at that time.
‘What is apparent in the material before the court in relation to your planning is the total absence of any suggestion or impression that you ever gave thought to the individuality or humanity of your victim, or any sense of the significance of taking a life. You appear to have been totally self-absorbed, concerned only with your own life situation, feelings and desires.’
The judge said that this self-centredness had resulted in the death of a youngster who, in spite of Robertson’s research, she clearly did not really know or understand. Justice Vincent, his voice occasionally breaking with emotion, said it was a simple reality, contrary to Robertson’s distorted perception, that there were no perfect lives or perfect people. All individuals were unique and irreplaceable in a society where every life is inviolate and should not be unlawfully taken. ‘That is both a profoundly important moral principle, and a proposition of law based, in part, on sheer necessity, if we are to live together in a decent and civilised community,’ he said. ‘You have broken that precept, bringing about the death of Rachel Barber, motivated by envy of her for her family, her beauty, and her persona
lity, and above all, I am satisfied, because you believed that she would be likely to have a happy and successful life of a kind that you anticipated that you would never experience.’
But, he said, it was also possible to feel sympathy and sadness for Robertson, whose level of self-esteem was so low and whose deep-seated, longstanding self-hatred and envy of others were so intense that she was prepared to kill in order to achieve her ‘un-realisable and unreal dream’. But her crime had created more than one victim, he said, referring to the Barber family’s Victim Impact Statements, which conveyed the pain of having a young life criminally and senselessly taken. This was a reminder, he said, of the impact of crime on those intimately affected by it. ‘For most in the community, in time, what you have done will become a distant bizarre occurrence,’ said the judge in a quavering voice. ‘But for some, and I refer to the family and friends of your victim, the anguish will remain, sometimes intensifying as milestone events take place in their lives or the lives of those around them, but ever present and constantly evoked by everyday life occurrences.’
He said that psychological and psychiatric evidence had been of limited assistance to him because of Robertson’s inability or unwillingness to provide further information about aspects of her background or of the crime itself. But what had emerged, said Justice Vincent, was that the prisoner suffered from a deeply entrenched personality disorder.
Directing the court to the evidence of Dr Barry-Walsh, Justice Vincent referred to Robertson’s home life. He noted Robertson’s account of poor relationships with her parents and the numerous mentions of her obesity, which had resulted in her being marginalised and bullied at school. Her writings supported the poor self-image she later developed. It was clear, he concluded, that Robertson’s alienation as she grew older increased her sense of anger. But the lack of detail in relation to the crime, and the absence of necessary information on her background, had left everyone speculating.