In crime fiction, many people who commit murders do so because to them, there is no other alternative. But that doesn’t mean they have no feelings; many fictional killers recognise the enormity of what they’ve done and in some cases, it’s even a sort of relief when they’re caught. But there are some killers who have what you might call no conscience at all about what they do. I’m not referring here to the all-too-common serial killer who takes pleasure in killing or in something about killing. I’m also not talking of killers who are glad for what they’ve done (as in a vengeance killing or a murder for gain). I’m talking more of killers who simply don’t feel anything about what they’ve done. To those killers, the taking of a life is a means to an end or serves some other useful purpose, and the humans involved simply don’t matter, or they don’t matter much. That kind of killer is in a way an especially chilling kind of killer, and not easy to depict in fiction. But when it’s done well, stories that feature that kind of killer can be gripping.
For example, in Agatha Christie’s Lord Edgware Dies (AKA Thirteen at Dinner), Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings investigate the stabbing death of George Alfred St. Vincent Marsh, 4th Baron Edgware. His wife Jane Wilkinson is the most likely suspect; she threatened her husband in Poirot’s presence, and it’s known that she wanted to divorce him so that she could re-marry. What’s more, someone giving her name and looking like her was at the Edgware home on the night of the murder. However, there are twelve witnesses who swear that Jane Wilkinson was at a dinner party in another part of London on the night of the murder and that she didn’t leave the party until after the murder had been committed. So Poirot, Hastings and Chief Inspector James “Jimmy” Japp have to look elsewhere for the killer. In the end, and after two more murders, Poirot discovers who killed Lord Edgware and why. And in the end, Hastings describes the killer as “completely conscienceless.”
Patricia Highsmith has described her Tom Ripley as “utterly amoral. “ And so he is. He commits fraud, murder and identity theft all without second thoughts, although he’s never entirely convinced he won’t be caught. And in Ripley Under Ground, he’s no sooner settled into a comfortable life in France with a wealthy wife when he once again gets drawn into the world of crime. In this case, it’s the business of fraud and art forgery, and Ripley has no compunctions about committing the crimes he commits. The closest he gets to even considering the larger consequences of what he does is to think he’d “rather not” have to go as far as murder. He doesn’t glory in killing, but he doesn’t stick at killing someone if murder is necessary. He’s a very compelling character as much for that complete lack of conscience as for his appealing, almost suave ways.
The killer in Margaret Truman’s Murder at the FBI is also what you might describe as amoral. In that novel, the FBI is rocked when special agent George Pritchard’s body is found at the agency’s own rifle range. The murder has to be investigated quickly and thoroughly in order to prevent the bad press that might result if the investigation doesn’t seem transparent. So agents Chris Saksis and Ross Lizenby and their team immediately begin to look into the matter. As they begin to untangle Pritchard’s complicated life though, they find that he was privy to several secrets, some professional and some personal, that could have been good motives for murder. For instance, he knew the identities of several members of a dangerous terrorist group and was about to reveal them. He was also writing a book about the FBI and was possibly going to reveal things that some highly-placed people didn’t want him to reveal. In the end, Saksis uncovers the real killer and we learn that this killer had no qualms about killing, nor seemingly any “pricks of conscience” about taking a life. That fact makes the killer that much more of a creepy character.
That’s also true of the killer in Thomas N. Scortia and Frank M. Robinson’s The Nightmare Factor. World Health Organization (WHO) doctor Calvin Doohan has moved from his native Scotland to San Francisco. He’s working there when he gets involved in the investigation of a frightening outbreak of what looks like a particularly virulent strain of influenza. He volunteers his services to the local Public Health Department to try to find out what exactly is killing the victims of what looks more and more like an epidemic. It’s not long before Doohan and Centers for Disease Control (CDC) doctor Suzanne Synge trace the epidemic to people who attended a recent conference at San Francisco’s Hotel Cordoba. Before long, the CDC, the Public Health Department and the Army Chemical Corps, led by Major Lawrence Hanson, are all working on this strange outbreak. Doohan discovers to his dismay that the outbreak was deliberately caused. What’s worse, the pathogen is not naturally occurring; it was synthesised. So Doohan comes to the conclusion that whoever started this epidemic is using the deaths as a means to some kind of end. When he discovers what that purpose is, Doohan also learns just how amoral his enemy is. He’s up against a force with no conscience or particular feelings one way or the other about the victims.
Adrian Hyland’s Aboriginal Community Police Officer (ACPO) Emily Tempest finds herself up against a similarly amoral enemy in Gunshot Road. In that novel, she’s on her first day on the job as an ACPO when the team is called to Green Swamp Well, where prospector Albert “Doc” Ozolins has been murdered, apparently as a result of a drunken quarrel with John “Wireless” Petherbridge. Tempest doesn’t think Petherbridge is guilty though and begins to ask questions. Against the specific instructions of her boss Bruce Cockburn, Tempest investigates Doc’s murder and finds that he had made a very dangerous enemy. The closer Tempest gets to the truth about what really happened, the more danger she finds. And when we do learn who’s behind Ozolins’ murder, we see that the killer is conscienceless about having taken life. It simply doesn’t matter.
There are other examples of amoral killers in crime fiction – more than there is space for here. They have to be depicted with a deft hand though; otherwise one risks either the stereotypical serial killer or a character that’s too hard for the reader to “buy.” When it’s done effectively, though, an amoral killer – a killer with no feelings one way or the other about having taken a life – can be a very chilling antagonist. Have you read novels with killers like that? If you’re a writer, have you experimented with a truly amoral killer?
*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Duran Duran’s Ordinary World.
Good post, Margot. I’ve often wondered if the truly amoral person exists other than among the mentally ill. It’s very hard to imagine, but the concept is interesting to explore in the context of a novel. It would almost seem like an imaginary character, such as a vampire.
Pat – Thank you
I don’t know either whether something like a truly conscienceless person exists who isn’t a certified sociopath. But as you say, it’s an interesting question to ask because it allows the author to explore the kind of person who would act that way. If there are really such people, there probably aren’t many of them.
For me, most amoral characters are sociopaths and would turn into serial killers if they felt the necessity to. They have a goal and those that stand in his/her way will be eliminated one way or another. If they accomplish their goals with one death and see no need for more, then they stop killing. They may have serial killer tendencies but have no need to kill. Very interesting topic. I also feel that if a person kills once, it’s much easier to kill again.
Thanks for your email. I can not wait to work with you on your story.
Clarissa – I’m excited, too.
You’ve got an excellent point that killing once makes a person feel less compunction about killing again. There’s research supporting that and it shows up a lot in crime fiction, too. Your point about sociopaths is an interesting one. If a sociopath sees no need to kill (because nobody is standing in the way), then s/he may not kill. If there are people in the way, the sociopath feels nothing about killing them. Interesting thought that I’ll have to mentally “chew on” for a bit.
The one that comes to mind is Hannibal Lecter. In some ways he is similar to a serial killer in that he takes pleasure in his killings but he treats it as high art rather than base pleasure. He comes to the conclusion to kill in some emotionless, logical way. and in his mind it was perfectly natural that he should do it.
Peter – You make an interesting point that Thomas Harris’ Hannibal Lecter decides to kill in a logical, rather than emotional, way. He really doesn’t have the kinds of attitudes toward killing that most people would have.
Margot: The real life criminal justice system of Canada is struggling to deal with accused who have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Many with the Syndrome do not have normal emotions.
Bill – You know I hadn’t thought about that but you’re quite right about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Many people with FAS don’t have the same sorts of emotions and senses of conscience about their behaviour towards others that people without FAS have.
Many psychopaths and sociopaths are characters in mystery fiction, with a propensity to kill. Also, mobsters. I heard a woman on a cable show talking about her spouse who is in jail for multiple murders. He worked as a killer for a mob, and did what he was told to do. She didn’t think it impacted on her relationship with him(!) Or lessened her affection for him(!) That issue needs serious analysis, too. I always wonder about the women who are enablers or partners with their spouses in committing terrible abuse or worse, as in the case of the young woman kidnapped and held for years in California.
What about the Ted Bundys? Or those two guys who killed three people in a family in Connecticut? Why? I guess forensic psychologists can figure this out. Luckily, there aren’t as many in real life as in crime fiction or societies would be in serious danger. But there are horrors that are in the news all of the time it seems, with domestic abuse of spouses and children, sometimes carried to the worst extreme. Or animal abuse. Some people have no empathy or understanding of others or don’t care. But what leads to extreme behavior? Many mysteries help to explain this behavior.
I don’t like books written from the killers’ point of view. I avoid them like the plague, but sometimes insights come through in other types of plots.
There should be a way to catch this behavior early on. There are signs in childhood of psychopaths and sociopaths. Much more should be done.
Some people’s childhoods are horrendous. It’s a social problem.
Kathy – You remind us of some really excellent examples of people who kill with no real feeling about it. It’s especially interesting that you bring up mobsters, many of whom kill as a part of their jobs. And as you say, their spouses know full well what they do, and it doesn’t change their feelings. It does make one wonder about the kind of background that leads a person to have that sort of attitude about killing. As you remind us, those things happen in real life as well as crime fiction.
You also make an interesting point about reading books written from the point of view of the killer. I don’t generally reach for them first, but as you say, they can sometimes be really interesting ways to explore what makes people amoral.
Amoral killers are a staple of “B movie equivalent” crime fiction. They are frequently lazy creations featuring in books that celebrate the number of times said killer kills, & how, etc. It is a thriving subgenre. Killers that are not amoral are more challenging to write about, but more interesting as individuals. Hannibal Lector, as mentioned here, was quite interesting in the battle of wits of Red Dragon but became less so in subsequent books, to the point of risibility.
“Cod psychology” of this type is not usually done in convincing depth in crime fiction, though I think Mari Jungstedt did it pretty well in her recent Dark Angel – via a sibling comparison and a look at how similar childhood influences (same parent) can affect the way we turn out as adults.
But, I wonder if I’d prefer a “computer generated” amoral killer to that other cliche, the person who was badly treated by his (usually) mother as a child and thinks in italics a lot?
Maxine – I think you’re absolutely right that amoral killers are often not written well at all. Far too often they are “cardboard cutout” characters who simply aren’t interesting. And yes, novels featuring them quite often rely on gore to cover up for plotholes. There are some well-written amoral killers, but you’re right that they’re few and far between. Oh, and I really like your term of “computer generated” killer; it’s quite apt. You know, maybe I’ll rework the novel I’m working on now and start putting my killer’s thoughts in italics; it might make the novel a best-seller!
Seriously, though, you’re quite right that it’s very difficult to write this kind of killer with anything like convincing characterisation or a solid plot. I’ve seen it done; I know it can happen. But it’s difficult.
Yes, it is much harder to write about killers other than amoral, psychopathic killers or guns for hire. I hate those “italics” chapters or paragraphs in the p.o.v. of the sociopath. I skip them. I want to know about more complicated reasons and motives than sociopathy.
I learned a lot about a certain type of killer from seeing “Dead Man Walking,” the excellent movie based on the book by Sister Jean PreJean, is an anti-death penalty advocate. The person portrayed — so well — by Sean Penn, was brutalized by his step-father and felt no one had ever cared about him, until Prejean did. That famous line, “I had to die to be loved,” is one of the best in movie history.
That movie shifted me 100% to oppose the death penalty, that and John Grisham’s The Chamber, although I was 80% convinced already.
A friend who works with the Texas anti-death penalty organizations, says that everyone on death row was horribly brutalized as a child, beaten, locked in closets, denied food, not taught any socialization skills or how to care about anyone. So it is a social problem that should be dealt with much more than it is.
Kathy – Thanks for mentioning both Dead Man Walking and The Chamber. They both really show the various sides of the death penalty issue. As you say, there are many killers who had horrible childhoods, and that is a social problem. It doesn’t excuse murder. However, there is a high correlation between presence on death row and childhood abuse. Maybe at some point I’ll do a post about changing attitudes towards the death penalty.
I remember attending a talk by Patricia Churchland where she presented some findings about how they investigated the most violent and psychopathic killers and found that that pretty much all of them had two things in common – a particular gene and a abusive childhood. Either one by itself wasn’t enough to guarantee a violent future but together it was impossible to overcome. Basically, if both nature and nurture screws you, it’s game over.
Peter – Thanks for sharing that insight. It certainly seems logical that that kind of sociopathic behaviour would be a product of a blend of “nature” and “nurture.” Really interesting information! I wish I could have attended that talk and learned a bit about the background to that research.
Nothing excuses murder, but circumstances differ, which is why there are different degrees of it, different charges and sentences. Cefense attorneys can present extenuating circumstances, backgrounds and explanations for a defendant’s behavior.
Certainly, after seeing “Dead Man Walking,” I became further entrenched in my anti-death penalty stance, but know that people who are are deeply disturbed as Sean Penn’s character, who was based on a real person, present a danger to society and need to be in prison. In states with the option of imprisonment without parole, juries are more deciding for that and not the death penalty, although not all states have it.
As the Innocent Project and associated law students and others have found, though, there are many innocent people in prison, on and off death row.
The bad guy in Michael Connelly’s The Scarecrow seemed like an amoral type, also the horrifying killer in The Drop, who was so awful that I had to skip paragraphs, just too much. Why is anyone like this?
Kathy – You ask a very good question. Certainly a terrible home life, unspeakable abuse or that kind of thing has a profound effect on a person. And as you say, juries are not always eager to impose the death penalty and that’s one reason for which the option of life in prison without parole is more attractive to juries in states where the have that option.
You’re right too that circumstances affect cases, too. There are degrees of murder and different charges depending on those circumstances. In fact I sometimes think that not very much about murder is “black and white.”
Ms. Kinberg, I can’t distinguish between one murderer and another – they are all calculated and cold blooded – unless they are mentally unfit. Individuals who kill other individuals, for whatever reasons, know exactly what they are doing and must pay for their crimes. Some fifty years ago, a prominent naval officer in Bombay, India, who caught his wife and her lover together shot the man in a fit of rage. The media and the public sympathised with the officer in what became a sensational case but the fact remains that he killed another man. He may have killed on impulse but he still knew what he was doing and could have stepped back if he wanted to.
Prashant – You make a very interesting and valid point. Just about everyone who kills has that moment when one could draw back and not kill. There are cases, such as in defending oneself, where most people would agree that it’s a situation of “kill or be killed.” But there are many, many cases such as the one you describe, where the decision to kill was a conscious one that could have been prevented.
Crimes of “passion” aren’t regarded the same way as planned, deliberate murders. Sometimes, even now, people receive relatively short sentences for this type of murder. Bar fights, which could kill someone might entail a manslaughter, not murder charge.
Kathy – Exactly! That kind of “crime of passion certainly is seen in a different light to a planned, deliberate murder.