It's time to put this one out of its misery. I thought I might be interested in serial killers in an "it'll be good for research" kind of way, in an "I'd like to better understand why this happens" way. Turns out I'm not all that interested in serial killers.
Barely out of school, a young Helen Morrison was asked by an FBI agent who'd seen her seminar on hypnosis to interview and hypnotize murderer Richard Macek. The agent wanted to find information that might show Macek wasn't guilty of the murder he was being held for, though he'd committed plenty of others. You might think hypnotizing a serial killer might not be the greatest idea, and you'd be right. It wasn't; Macek lost his shit, and Morrison rethought the whole hypnotizing murderers bit, but she stayed on, probing his mind for weeks, building a relationship and breaking him down with exhaustive interviews. Turned out he had indeed done the brutal murder in question. This was how Dr. Morrison began her odd career as a serial killer expert.
It was sometimes hard for me to remember that she was one of the first people to get close to serial killers. It seemed naive for her to think upon meeting these men that they just didn't seem like the types. She thought perhaps the authorities had gotten the wrong man; they were so personable! Eventually she learned that this was part of pattern. Even with the learning curve, some of her conclusions come across--and I feel mean saying this--as loopy.
Additionally, Dr. Morrison's tone is often defensive; she comes off as having been openly scorned during her career, and decries the men who fought the idea of having a woman in the field. That much seemed understandable, but she must also have caused a lot of astonishment and anger from certain choices made. For instance, she testified for the defense in John Wayne Gacy's trial, saying that Gacy lacked "substantial capacity to appreciate the criminality of his conduct at the time of the alleged acts." All 33 of them. This testimony undoubtedly could not make her popular. The over-defensive court case takes up a whole chapter of the book.
She does have stories to tell about serial killers though, heaps of them, and she's not afraid to tell you the creepy stuff you thought you wanted to know. There's a particularly interesting chapter on the history of serial killers; she rolls out names and deeds I'd never heard of, and now wish I hadn't.
In trying to figure out the "why," Morrison concludes that serial killers don't have motives for their murders, nor do they have personality structures in place. She tells us we should think of them as psychologically incomplete, stunted, as if they've never grown emotionally beyond age 4 or 6.
Many of her statements come across like she's arguing with her past, even preemptively arguing with you before you have the time to make a judgement, even in your own head. That defensiveness is half the reason why I didn't care for the book. Another is because the style is sensationalistic. Finally was the author's desire to be able to test future people to find out their genetic destinies, and upon finding markers for serial killers, monitor those individuals ... somehow. Crikey.
I'm convinced the author would have been better off with a ghost writer or biographer doing the heavy lifting. She may have been too close to the story to know what to focus on and what to leave out.
If you're looking for a peek into the heads and lives of serial killers, you will get that; a long, dark look. I won't list any grisly details here, except for this morsel. Upon the death of John Wayne Gacy, Helen Morrison assisted in his autopsy. When it was done, she "got into my car and returned home with Gacy's brain in tow ..." as stipulated in Gacy's will. After searching, she finally found an anonymous neuropathologist willing to test the sections of the brain put aside in the autopsy. When the envelope came with the findings, she was disappointed to find that nothing useful had been gleaned. The brain remains in her home.