‘Against the targets? Yes. Against the bullies themselves? Also yes. In the worst cases, bullying can lead to situations where neither side shows any mercy.’ He sipped his beer and wiped the froth from his upper lip. ‘You have to remember that bullies tend to be completely devoid of pity for their victims. And the sufferers are on such an emotional rollercoaster that they can resort to desperate measures. That said, they’re more likely to harm themselves than their tormentors. Much more likely.’ Then he corrected himself: ‘Rollercoaster’s probably the wrong word, since they go up and down, whereas if bullying’s allowed to continue unchecked, the victim’s situation can only go downhill. It doesn’t improve by itself, only gets worse. Sadly, when it’s bad enough, anything can happen. And violence is an easy way to vent your feelings.’
‘I see.’ Freyja didn’t have to work in the area to be aware that bullying could be serious. She knew from personal experience the mental scars it could leave you with, and her online research yesterday had shown that she wasn’t alone in this. She was amazed by the extent of the problem. All the published material had one thing in common, however: it was from the point of view of the victims, whether named or anonymous. There was nothing from the bullies’ perspective. Perhaps some of them had sat down with the intention of explaining their actions, only to realise that there was no way they could justify them. ‘Are you aware of any examples of bullying resulting in a death?’ She didn’t want to mention the word ‘murder’ in case he twigged that she was talking about the Stella case.
‘Yes. Sadly, suicide’s not uncommon. The youngest person to commit suicide in Iceland as a result of bullying was only eleven.’ He paused and Freyja allowed the silence to hang between them. He took a deep breath and went on in full lecturer mode: ‘These are ugly cases. Ugly and challenging. After all, the point of bullying is to hurt and humiliate people, both physically and mentally. And the damage is often lasting. Those who witness the incidents tend to side with the bully, usually to ensure that they themselves don’t end up as the next victim. This strengthens the perpetrator’s position within the group and earns them respect. It can be difficult for kids like that to step down off the pedestal as it’s not only adults who are reluctant to relinquish their hold on power.’ Freyja watched Kjartan take another swig of beer, much larger this time. He put down the glass and carried on. ‘Speaking of violence, it’s not unknown for victims to turn on their tormentors. It’s rare but the fallout can be dramatic.’
‘Such as?’
‘The Columbine High School massacre in America. Thirteen people lost their lives, in addition to the two boys responsible. They killed themselves afterwards, so a total of fifteen people died. The boys had been bullied and socially ostracised. Not that it excuses what happened – it’s just one of the facts of the case.’
‘But what about here in Iceland? Do you know of any instances where victims have used violence against the people who bullied them?’
‘No one’s been killed, if that’s what you mean. But it occasionally leads to fights. Generally between boys, at the beginning of the bullying process; while the victim’s still labouring under the illusion that they can stop it.’
‘What about adults? Any examples of them going for the kids who’ve been picking on their children?’ From the video clips, Freyja knew that the assailant in Stella’s case was no child or adolescent.
‘No serious cases, no. Just parents swearing at kids and grabbing them by the collar, that sort of thing. They can lose the plot when the system fails them and start trying to take matters into their own hands, but it doesn’t do any good. It only complicates things and distracts attention from the main issue. An adult attacking a child is taken a lot more seriously than peer-on-peer violence.’
‘Yes.’ Freyja told him about the material she’d found online. ‘I have to admit the problem’s much nastier and more widespread than I’d imagined before I started reading up on it.’
‘Yes, it’s a disgraceful situation. Perhaps we’ll manage to limit the problem eventually but at the moment we’re more or less helpless in the face of online abuse. The phenomenon’s changed and evolved like everything else.’ Kjartan drew a quick breath and ploughed on. ‘Everyday bullying, like the kind we remember, was more contained. It was only visible to those who were present. It consisted of taunting and name-calling, and sometimes physical injury or damage to the victim’s property. Whereas cyberbullying involves comments and pictures designed to hurt, humiliate and damage the target’s reputation. It’s not constrained by any limits because the perpetrator doesn’t have to look the victim in the eye. He or she doesn’t even need to know who you are. It’s easy for people to hide behind anonymity and give free rein to their basest instincts.’ Kjartan took another deep breath and carried on. ‘As if that wasn’t bad enough, the material posted on social media can be seen by anyone at any time. The victim is left imagining an endless number of people laughing at them. He or she can’t simply avoid the abuse by staying away from the bully. There’s no refuge; they’re hounded round the clock.’
‘That fits with what I read.’ Freyja watched a group of women downing shots together and slamming their glasses on the bar. ‘I can’t help asking myself what the hell motivates these kids.’
‘For many of them, abusing some poor child provides a vent for their own feelings. But the main perpetrators in bullying cases tend to be individuals who already demonstrate some form of antisocial behaviour. In my opinion, the system ought to focus much more on the bullies. But it’s not always obvious what’s causing their behaviour.’
‘It sounds as if you haven’t exactly chosen an easy field.’ The moment she’d spoken, Freyja realised she was hardly in a position to talk. The cases that found their way to the Children’s House were often harrowing in the extreme.
‘No. It’s a challenging area. But there’s a comfort in being able to help.’ A new song started booming over the sound system, even more aggressively upbeat than the last. The message was unsubtle: dance, dance, dance. Hardly a very appropriate background to their conversation.
‘Is it mainly the victims who come to see you, then?’ Freyja took another sip of Coke, trying to block out the noise. The ice cubes had melted, diluting the flat drink still further.
‘Mainly, yes. Though I do get to see the odd bully. Parents as well. Of victims and bullies. And occasionally adults who were bullied as kids or at work. I see a lot of lasting emotional damage, I can tell you.’ Kjartan laid one arm along the sofa back, his fingers resting close to Freyja’s shoulder. The move was calculated to appear casual, like his choice of clothes, but she saw through him. She didn’t shift away, though. ‘But over ninety per cent of my clients are victims.’
‘Are bullying cases the only kind you take on?’
‘No. Surprisingly, there aren’t enough of them. Even though countless children experience bullying and I’m the only specialist in the country. And then there are all the perpetrators. They need counselling too, if they’re to be stopped. But like I said, people tend to leave it too late to intervene because parents cling to the hope that it’ll all blow over. They don’t seek counselling in time, if at all. Most expect to wake up one morning to discover that everything’s fine again. But it never works out like that. Not in the serious cases.’
‘Have you seen any parents, or other relatives, who you judged to be at risk of resorting to extreme measures, like violence?’
Kjartan looked at her in surprise. ‘That’s funny.’
‘What’s funny?’
‘Well, it’s funny you should ask, because yes, I have had cases like that. The father of one of my clients was flirting with the idea of retaliating against the kids who were picking on his son, but he had the sense to unburden himself to me. And I can save you the effort of asking the next question because the answer is no: to my knowledge, none of my clients have acted on their impulses.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Anyway, what is this inquiry you’re assisting the police with? I h
ave to admit I’m curious.’
‘It’s confidential, I’m afraid. I can tell you that it doesn’t directly concern bullying. But the subject came up and I thought it worth looking into as the consultant psychologist. After all, you never know.’ They were interrupted by gales of raucous laughter from the group of women at the bar, which briefly drowned out the music. Suddenly conscious of how inappropriate the venue was for the subject they were discussing, Freyja decided to leave it at that. If it became apparent that bullying was the motive for the attack on Stella, Kjartan would almost certainly be willing to help her. Her thoughts suddenly flew to little Saga. ‘If I came to you as the parent or guardian of a child who was being bullied, what would you advise me to do?’
Kjartan knocked back his beer. ‘Get a lawyer. Activate all the elements of the school’s intervention programme, but sue the bully for compensation as well. It’s not hard to prove the damage you’ve incurred. The victim’s parents invariably have to miss work as a result of all the trips to the school to collect their weeping child. Vandalism of property is common too. And then there’s the child’s diminished quality of life. The kids targeted often suffer permanent emotional scars. It affects their performance at school, and so on.’
Kjartan put down his glass and wiped the froth from his lips. He smiled at her before continuing. ‘Though in practice you probably wouldn’t have to go that far. After all, if the child’s a minor, it’s the parents who’ll have to cough up. And they’d be a lot quicker to intervene if they stood to lose out financially. Seriously, that would be your best move. And it wouldn’t hurt to come and see me as well. I can help with the emotional fallout. But there’s nothing I can do on my own to combat the problem itself.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind. Has anyone done it? Tried suing, I mean?’
He shook his head.
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t imagine schools would encourage the idea. But it’ll happen sooner or later.’
Freyja nodded. She prayed that Baldur would never need to take that kind of action to protect Saga. ‘Can you recommend any articles or studies on violence linked to bullying?’
Kjartan reeled off the titles of several research papers, saying he’d e-mail her a fuller list later. Then he drained his glass, banged it down on the table and asked bluntly: ‘Are you seeing anyone?’
‘No, not at the moment.’ Freyja held his gaze as she answered, taking care not to break eye contact or blush like a coy little girl. ‘Why do you ask?’ Might as well make him work a bit. Stealing another glance at his hands she noticed a paler mark on his ring finger. That didn’t bode well. She hoped he wasn’t the kind of idiot who’d slip his wedding band in his pocket before coming out.
Kjartan didn’t answer. ‘Who’s Baldur, then?’ He added, a little embarrassed: ‘I looked you up in the online directory. Saw that you and some guy named Baldur are listed at the same number.’
The fact that he’d looked her up didn’t annoy Freyja. There was nothing wrong with doing a little homework. ‘Baldur’s my brother. I’m staying in his flat at the moment. He’s … living somewhere else.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Who’s your wife? Anyone I know?’
‘I’m getting divorced, actually.’ Kjartan glanced around the room. ‘It’s a pity for the kids’ sake but we both agree our relationship’s over.’ He smiled and she returned it. So the mark on his finger had a legitimate explanation. ‘What do you say to moving on and getting something to eat? On me.’
‘I say yes please.’ Freyja was just reaching for her Coke when his offer came. Instead of draining the glass, she pushed it away. ‘What are we waiting for?’
Chapter 21
Erla was chalk-white apart from the dark circles under her eyes that had grown even more pronounced. Her shirt was creased, there was a coffee stain on one sleeve and a small red mark on the collar, possibly ketchup. It was getting on for half one in the morning and she was still at work. Huldar wouldn’t be surprised if she had a sleeping bag rolled up in the corner of her office. When the pressure was on, she had a tendency to drop anything she regarded as inessential, and he was fairly sure that her drive home would come under that heading. If they’d still been friends, he would have advised her to go home, get eight hours’ kip, and have a proper breakfast before coming back to work. It was a more effective method than continuing to run on empty, becoming ever more tired until you couldn’t think straight any more. She wouldn’t have listened, though.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Huldar nodded at the newly topped-up coffee cup in Erla’s hand. He was holding a full mug himself and had lost count of how many he’d downed over the course of the day. Then he remembered that it was well past midnight, which meant a new day had started and he could begin again with a clear conscience. ‘If you cut yourself, you’ll bleed caffeine.’
‘Sod off.’ The weary way she said it suggested she was just about done in. She took a big slug of coffee, probably larger than intended, to convey the message that he should stop interfering: she’d only do the exact opposite of what he recommended. He made a mental note of this for later use. On reflection, it had been a bad move to suggest they consider bullying as a possible motive. With Erla in this contrary mood, it would have worked better to flatly dismiss the theory in her hearing.
‘It is something they have in common.’ Huldar watched her roll her eyes. They were sitting facing each other across a small table covered with brown rings that would disappear when the cleaners turned up at six. Another four and a half hours. ‘It’s not as though we’ve uncovered any more promising leads.’
‘Bullying?’ Erla took another sip, her eyes wandering around the empty cafeteria. Huldar had followed her downstairs and taken a seat opposite her. He was determined to give it another go; see if she’d be more receptive now than she had been earlier, when he got back from the airport. Instead of heading straight home, he’d swung by the office, guessing Erla would still be there. On the way, he’d dropped Gudlaugur off at home, feeling resentful with him for refusing to open up about the Ásta business. Huldar didn’t want to fall out with him and knew that the wearier he was, the greater the risk that he’d take it out on Gudlaugur.
‘It’s no more far-fetched than any other angle.’ Huldar turned the mug in his hands, watching small rings forming in the liquid. ‘It’s led to mass shootings abroad.’
‘You’re talking about bullying carried out by kids. It was no kid who killed Stella or attacked Egill.’
‘Adults can get drawn in.’ He’d learnt that this afternoon from the e-mail Freyja had sent, summarising the information she’d dug up on the subject in general and on Stella in particular. None of it was conclusive evidence, but she’d promised a more substantial report in the morning. He hadn’t been surprised that she chose to e-mail rather than talk on the phone. Obviously she wanted to avoid another of his clumsy attempts to ask her out. He cringed at the memory.
‘The kids’ parents are affected too. Often badly.’ Huldar kept his voice level in an effort not to provoke Erla more than necessary. He was hoping to use this unforeseen opportunity to improve their professional relationship. Admittedly, rubbing it in that the information came from Freyja would do nothing to restore their friendship, but he was coming round to the idea that the bullying theory might be key. And solving the case mattered far more than making it up with Erla. ‘Some parents are capable of anything when it comes to their kids.’
‘Oh, please.’ Erla shook her head wearily. ‘Can I just drink my coffee in peace? I’ve already told you I think it’s bullshit but I promise to consider it anyway. Later, though. Not right now. I’ve got more than enough on my plate.’
Huldar nodded. He’d wait until she’d had a few hours’ sleep, then renew the attack tomorrow. ‘Anything I can do to ease the burden?’
Erla snorted. Then, seeing that his offer was genuine, she mellowed a little. ‘Two, three … What about one? If you could tell me that, I’d be happy.’
‘I’m not sure of anything. It’s one big fucking mess.’
Huldar was silent a moment, then asked: ‘Is there anything I can do before I head home?’
‘Nope.’ Erla smothered a yawn.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the humming of the fridge. It was oddly soothing and Huldar realised his eyelids were drooping. ‘Can I give you a piece of advice?’
‘No.’ Erla drained her cup and heaved herself up, slowly and stiffly, like an old woman.
Against his better judgement, Huldar went ahead and said it anyway: ‘Go home. I promise you won’t regret it in the morning. Get eight hours’ sleep in your own bed.’ He shouldn’t have mentioned her bed. They were both instantly embarrassed, looking anywhere but at each other.
‘See you tomorrow.’ Erla appeared to be addressing the fridge. He doubted she would take the blindest bit of notice of what he’d said.
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