Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [65]
“So if they can’t feel empathy, how can they know their actions are wrong?” the Russian asked, pouring himself more tea. He had a large pot of black tea on his table, and he held little bites of sugar cubes between his teeth as he drank.
“They know their actions are wrong,” Lee answered. “They just don’t care.”
“Ah!” said the Russian, brandishing his book like a weapon. “But if they can’t empathize with how their actions affect others, then how can they have a real sense of morality?”
“How do they … get like that?” asked Jonathan, the serious young man with the glasses.
“There’s some indication this kind of hardwiring takes place when they are young,” Lee said.
“How young?” said the Russian, concentrating so hard his bushy eyebrows almost touched.
Lee told the story of Ted Bundy’s aunt waking up with the knives all around her bed, and everyone was suitably impressed.
“My God,” said the Frenchwoman with a gasp. “How can you blame a five-year-old boy?”
“So does that mean evil exists but we’re not responsible for its existence?” asked her husband.
“How old does someone have to be before their actions can be considered evil?” said Jonathan.
“Can they be … helped?” asked the Frenchwoman.
“We don’t know for sure,” Lee said, “but there is evidence to suggest that once this psychopathic personality is in place, no amount of therapy can change it.”
The Russian slurped down some tea and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “It sounds as though these people lack a key component of what it means to be human.”
“That’s very tragic,” said the Frenchwoman.
“So you’re saying that this kind of monster can be created—through no fault of their own?” Elias asked Lee.
“And they can’t be fixed?” the Frenchman added. “There is some indication that once those neural pathways have been laid down, there’s no going back,” Lee said. A pall fell over the group.
They went on to discuss the difference between evil deeds and evil people, and concluded that while no one was totally good, it was likely that no one was totally evil either. They did not revisit the issue of psychopathic personalities, perhaps because it was too depressing—Lee had the feeling his comments had upset them. Kathy added few more remarks, but he kept silent. No one invited him to comment further, which was just as well, he thought.
They ended on an upbeat note, with the agreement that if evil does exist, it is overshadowed by good more often than not. They took a vote on next week’s topic of discussion, and “Is Happiness Attainable?” won.
The formal discussion over, they broke into small groups. Heads bent over their wineglasses, they continued their earnest discussion. Lee found it profoundly comforting that these people were willing to gather twice a month to tackle the Big Questions—wine or no wine, they clearly took their philosophy seriously.
He and Kathy stood next to a life-sized statue of Apollo and sipped their wine. Someone had covered his private parts with a yellow polka-dot bikini.
The French couple approached them, smiling; the serious young man they called Jonathan lingered just behind them, as if he wanted to be a part of the discussion, too, but was too shy to come forward.
“We found most interesting what you had to say,” the Frenchman said.
“Yes,” his sharp-faced wife agreed. Her accent was thicker than his, though Lee could tell from her English that she was educated in British schools. “Mon Dieu,” she said with a little laugh, “how do you ever catch zese criminals?” “Well, sometimes we don’t.”
The French couple nodded and murmured something polite Lee didn’t quite catch. Jonathan stepped forward at that moment, blushing.
“But when you do catch them, how do you do it?”
By this time anyone in the group who hadn’t yet left the restaurant had gathered around to listen to what Lee had to say. The Russian stood at the back, clutching his thick volumes and pulling at his beard.
“Sometimes they make mistakes,” Lee said. “They get sloppy or careless.”
“Because zey wish to be