Sunday, June 19, 2011

Who is this person who kills?


I have often wondered about what makes a person a murderer. Are there certain qualities he possesses from birth that predispose him to kill? Is he that different from me? Is it fair to say that we are two different versions of the same species, one normal and one an anomaly?

I tend to look at the act of murder as stemming from two suprisingly opposing possibilities: either a carefully thought-out plan (in legal terms, a premeditated murder) or a sudden explosion of rage and frustration (crime of passion, temporary insanity). As indicated by their relative positions in the judicial system, these two crimes share many qualities, but the key distinguishing point is the activity before (or perhaps "behind") the moment of killing. I want to look at both of these types of murder, to see just who these people are whom we call "killers." Are they a different type of human? And if so, where and when does that distinction occur? At birth? At adolescence? At the moment of the crime? Or are killers sociopaths, insensitive to the feelings (and sometimes, existence) of others? Of course, it's impossible to say with any certainty how (or if) these persons differ from us, but we can still attempt to make a determination about the parameters of murder and murderers by attempting to pinpoint just where that shift to "murderer" takes place.

Since the ability to commit such a crime is ostensibly something we do not all possess, let's start with a very personal examination of the potential for murder in each of us. Perhaps in this way we can determine the line between rational and irrational, law-abiding and law-breaking, innocent and guilty. Who among you has at some point in your life really hated someone, with a white-hot hatred that grew such that the individual was no longer a person, but instead a stumbling block to your life or your happiness: he was in the way of something and refused to budge? How many of you have said to yourselves, however jokingly, "I could kill him"? Have you gone so far as to actually conceive a plan in your head, just a fantasy, that would involve a clever series of events, ending with your being able to kill that person and get away with it? Have you daydreamed about it, laying out in your head how you could survey his house, or his workplace? Have you considered the location of potential hiding places from which you could observe the goings and comings of others and note the times when the person was actually alone? Have you compared your plan to movies you've seen, or episodes of CSI, mentally noting which pitfalls to avoid ("if there is a dog, it must be silenced before proceeding")? In short, have you ever mentally traced a plan, however casually, of how best to access your victim?


Somewhere in this scenario is the first potential stopping point. I admit that I am guilty of all of the above, yet I am not a murderer. But if we stop here, in all honesty, how different are we from the murderer, who does all this and then some, who takes the next step and determines a good time/place/excuse to have the little scenario actually materialize, and then actually puts it into motion? Can we qualify what the difference is between "him" and "us"? Is it moral? Is it a lack of conviction? Is it weakness? Is it love for another human being, perhaps not my intended victim but my children, my friends, my community? Whatever it is, something makes me stop where others continue.

Now it gets tougher. How many of you have researched certain poisons or firearms, to see how they work, and the possibility of obtaining them, just out of curiosity? How many have bought poison or guns, or at least gone to look at them, see what they felt like in your hand, what they looked like, how they smelled? Have you printed out maps of the area where you plan to attack your victim? Have you bought gloves, looked into renting a car vs. going there on foot, planned an escape route? I am happy to say I have never gone this far, but what about those who have, and have not killed anyone? Are they closer to the murderer than I?

And what about those who have moved beyond this point, to package up the tools, maps, guns, binoculars and headed towards the intended victim? Who is the individual who stops short of pulling the trigger, leaving the victim traumatized but still alive, bound and gagged but still breathing? Is that person even closer to being a killer then the daydreamer, or do we lump all these people into the non-killer category with a sigh of relief?

I have often heard killers described as having "crossed a line" and wondered about that line. In the above exercise it is clear that the line is a multitude of lines, and at some point an individual moves forward with something that makes it impossible to go back. Is the line buying the gun? Is it the moment the killer is actually seen by the victim? Is it once a shot is fired, or poison ingested? The point seems to be that a great many people could be viewed as potential murderers, and the question suddenly shifts from "what kind of person could do that?" to "what makes me NOT do that?"

As I indicated before, in some ways the inability to carry out this crime is a kind of unfinishing, where effort and thought are put into a plan that is ultimately not even abandoned so much as left to trickle away on its own. When looked at in this way, the murderer is different from the non-murderer only in that he is the one who is strong enough to complete what he started, a kind of Nietzschean superman, following through what his heart desires and refusing sentiment and fear of punishment.

Monday, May 16, 2011

The Papin Sisters and the Murder Narrative

On February 2, 1933, the mother and daughter of the Lancelin family were killed by their two maids, Christine and Léa Papin, in an unexpected and violent attack. The maids assaulted their employers in a remarkably brutal manner, ripping the eyes out of the two still-living women, beating them to death with a pitcher and a hammer, then slicing their faces and bodies with a kitchen knife to such a point that they were no longer recognizable. The women’s bodies were found hours later by the husband and father, Monsieur René Lancelin. He arrived home to find the house seemingly empty, yet bolted from the inside. Unable to obtain entry, he called police, who helped him break into the house, then accompanied him inside where the grisly discovery was made on the staircase landing.


The two victims had been beaten and stabbed, but perhaps oddest detail of all, their legs had been slashed...striated, actually...in a manner curiously reminiscent of loaves of bread, like the lines on top of a baguette. Their undergarments had been pulled down, but they had not been raped. Blood covered the carpet.

Since the killers were unknown at the time these bodies were discovered, the two maids were assumed to have been killed as well, and the men fully expected to find more bloody carnage upstairs in the women's attic bedroom. Instead, they found the women alive, huddled together in a single bed behind their locked bedroom door. Between the time of the slaughter and the return of Monsieur Lancelin to the house, they had performed their domestic duties as usual, cleaning the blood off their bodies and changing into clean nightclothes. They had rinsed the butcher knife used in the killing and placed it in the kitchen along with the other cutlery in the drying rack. In short, they cleaned up their mess and got ready for bed. The police took them into the station for questioning, and they admitted to having murdered Madame and Mademoiselle with the kitchen knives and pewter pitcher.

What happened in the Lancelin house that evening is not a mystery in the traditional sense of the word. Whereas investigators of most murder cases initially look for the killer, in this case the identities of the murderers were known from the moment the crime was discovered. Neither Christine nor Léa ever denied her involvement in the killing—in fact, Christine was more than willing to provide details about the moment of the murders, giving police a clear account of the chronology of the attack. Yet over and over, she stumbled on one point: why had she and her sister slaughtered their employers? What provoked such a brutal killing? When investigators asked her the reason for the assault, she was unable to give them an answer. Similarly, younger sister Léa reported that she did not know why she had acted as she did, instead offering her own gruesome details about who stabbed whom, the words spoken by her sister, and the cries made by the victims.

As a result, this one unresolved element of the story—the motive—has haunted the crime ever since. How could two apparently rational women kill with such violence? Did something provoke them? These questions lead to others: Should their potential for violence have been noticed before the crime? Was the wrath they obviously carried with them somehow visible in their faces? In their actions? In their lifestyle? Should someone have known they "had it in them," to kill, given the odd upbringing of the women and their unhealthy attachment to each other? In short, how could this have happened without anyone seeing it coming? And what exactly is "it"?

Society needs an explanation, which is usually provided in the form of some kind of logical narrative. When chaos erupts, disrupting the (often imagined) smooth flow of events, logic and order are thrown into disarray, necessitating an explanatory narrative to put it all back into place, as it were. If we can grasp what happened, and why, we feel satisfied and the world is, if not put exactly right again, at least somehow understandable. Any violent crime is upsetting, of course, but if it can be packaged and placed into the existing tapestry of society, we can move forward. But the world becomes a very disturbing place when something this messy, this chaotic, this unexpected just happens, with no explanation whatsoever. Where do we file away this violence?

In the years since the murders, various writers have come up with possible explanations for the crime, some focusing on sociocultural causes for the unexpected violence, others examining it from a psycho-sexual point of view, taking into account the hints of an incestuous lesbian relationship between the sisters. Many have used the crime to support their own ideologies, bolstering psychoanalytic analyses of self and other, or theories about hidden violence in the female. Yet none seems completely satisfactory, as there is something about this crime that cannot be contained in one single explanation. What is important here is that the inability to resolve key mysteries around the event seems unexpected, as if the crime should be understandable. But on what are those expectations based? Why do we think motive can be pulled out, clearly stated, and analyzed?

Put another way, given the violence and chaos of a bloody murder, isn't it more logical that any explanation will be insufficient, that the logic of language is not compatible with the illogic of slaughter? What explanation for the above image of the two women could possibly satisfy us?

O poor Mary Bellows


They found Mary Bellows cuffed to the bed
With a rag in her mouth and a bullet in her head
O poor Mary Bellows

It only seems fitting that I begin this new blog with a Nick Cave quote. As the ultimate singer of murder ballads, Nick and his ability to bring out the beauty and the horror and the inevitability of killing epitomize what pulls me to this subject. I am working on a book about murder, about the popularity of murder and the reasons behind it, among other things. Somewhere in my dissertation research I remember stumbling upon a quote by someone that stated people shouldn't be surprised that we have so many murders in our society, but that there are so few.

I've been thinking about this quote, and the implication that human beings need an outlet for violence. While murders have always been a part of society, the rise in crime and its coincidence with the industrial revolution and the resulting leisure time and sedentary lifestyle cannot be ignored. Professor Bonnefis pointed out to me the interesting correlation between the decline of public executions and the increase of aesthetic representations of murder in the form of stories and plays about the guillotine, something that seems to indicate that society needs this outlet, this vicarious living out of a violent fantasy.

On the other side of the coin is the desire to kill in the form of the actual murderer. I recently ran across some audio clips of Ted Bundy talking about various murders he committed. The obvious coldness of the psychopath and his ability to recount his activities as if her were discussing a baseball game -- I did this, I felt this way, I did that, she reacted in this way -- implies that for him, this IS the same as a baseball game. In Bundy's world, the brutality and horror of abducting, torturing and killing strangers is simply the way he deals with his needs and desires. Far from showing evidence of brutal outrage, his voice, demeanor and words reflect a calm mundanity that is chilling.

But what if we move past this chill? Is it possibly to see the act of killing as a necessity for some individuals? And if we can imagine such a scenario, will it change our view of the role of the killer in society? Put another, and slightly frightening, way, in our society, is the killer in some way necessary for our own collective sanity?

In this blog I plan to examine a series of well-known murders, to analyze their crimes in a variety of ways. I will also look at the popularity of murder as tabloid fodder, especially as it concerns unsolved crimes that remain in the public eye for years after their occurence. I will examine the implications of gender in the crime of murder, and the assumptions that are associated with each possible scenario, i.e. male killer/female victim, female killer/male victim, etc.

I want to close with the words of housemaid Christine Papin, who with her sister, Léa, slaughtered their employers one February night in 1933:

When Madame returned home, I let her know that the iron had broken down again and that hadn't been able to finish the ironing. When I told her that, she wanted to attack me...we were at that time, my sister and I and our two mistresses, on the landing of the second floor. Seeing that Mme Lancelin was about to attack me, I jumped towards her face and ripped out her eyes with my fingers. When I say that I jumped on Mme Lancelin, I am mistaken; it was Mademoiselle Lancelin I jumped and her eyes that I ripped out. During this time, my sister Léa jumped on Mme Lancelin and also ripped out her eyes. When we had done this, they were lying or crouching on the floor. Then I went downstairs to the kitchen to find a hammer and a kitchen knife.

Happy reading.