Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [55]
“'Behavior reflects personality.’ This statement was made by legendary FBI criminologist, one of the founders of profiling, John Douglas.” He paused to let this sink in.
“'Behavior reflects personality.’ What does this mean? Because a person’s so-called ‘personality’ is comprised of so many things: upbringing, cultural background, religious beliefs, moral convictions—and the list goes on. So what can we take from Douglas’s assertion, and how can we apply it to an active case?”
He took a breath. This was turning out to be even harder than he thought. It was one thing to prepare for this lecture—but now, in front of all of these people, he felt exposed and naked. His right hand throbbed, a dull ache like a steady drumbeat in the background of his mind. With his left hand, he took a drink of water from the bottle in front of him, then gripped the podium to steady himself.
“The writer Robert McKee has said that stories happen ‘when you allow yourself to think the unthinkable.’ As many of you know, I had a recent case where there were two offenders working together. Though not unknown, it is not what we usually would expect in a case like this. There are, of course, other examples—the most notorious being Charles Ng and his partner in crime. The pattern that operated there was similar to what was operating in this case: a dominant figure who plans and controls the actions of the more submissive partner. In both the Ng case and this one, if you look closely enough, you see the patterns of not one but two personalities at work.
“Profiling is especially useful when there is also little physical evidence—no blood, semen, DNA, hair, or even fibers—which often means a killer with both self-control and a sophisticated knowledge of crime scenes.”
He paused and took a gulp of water, looking out across the sweep of faces. At this point in an elective lecture, you might expect a few people to have headed off for class. Since the events of 9/11 the whole city was jumpy, and this was nowhere more true than in centers of law enforcement, where there was an explosive combination of guilt, fear, and anger. He even heard rumors that enrollment had fallen off as a result. But no one had left the lecture room. In fact, a few more people had slipped into the room after he began his talk.
“I know there’s been nearly a year of speculation about what went wrong on the morning of September 11,” he said, looking out at the full auditorium, all eyes turned on him, the faces tense and expectant. “But there’s really no other way to say it: We missed all the warning signs. We know now they were there—we just didn’t see them. The men who did this lived and moved among us, and we blinded ourselves to the threat they posed, in part because our arrogance didn’t allow us to see just how vulnerable we were.”
He went on to talk about how the memorandum from the FBI agent was lost in the bureaucratic shuffle until it was too late. “It’s important for all law enforcement professionals to take it upon themselves as individuals to fight the deadening effects of bureaucracy,” he continued. “It’s not a glass ceiling; it’s a concrete one. And we have to make the effort to punch through it when necessary. It’s too dangerous to do otherwise.”
When he finished, the audience sat in silence for a few moments, the younger students wide-eyed, and then he took questions.
Several hands shot up at once, and he pointed to a thin, serious-looking young man in the third row with thick, round glasses. He looked more like a physics major than a future policeman.
“Did 9/11 make you question everything you learned?”
“I guess I’d say it made me question everything I thought I knew, but maybe that