Since the Tylenol case, there have been numerous product tampering incidents, although most have been motivated by more traditional drives. In domestic cases, for example, a spouse’s murder may be staged to look like product tampering. In evaluating this type of case, police should consider the number of incidents reported, whether they’re localized or scattered, whether the product was consumed in close proximity to where it was apparently tampered with, and what the relationship has been between the victim and the individual reporting the crime. As in any other suspected personal-cause homicide, they should look for a history of conflict and gather all the information they can on pre- and postoffense behavior.
A crime that may appear on its surface to have had no particular intended victim may actually have had a specific target. And what seems to be a crime of general anger and frustration may actually involve a motive as traditional as wanting to get cleanly out of a marriage or a desire to collect insurance or an inheritance. After the Tylenol publicity, a wife knocked off her husband using poisoned Tylenol, figuring it would be attributed to the original killer. The staging was obvious and the details different enough so that no one was fooled. In these cases, forensic evidence also usually links the offender. For example, labs can analyze the source of cyanide or other poisons.
This same type of analysis makes it relatively easy for investigators to recognize when someone has altered a product with the intent to sue for money damages, such as placing a dead mouse in a jar of spaghetti sauce, a rat in a soda can, or a needle in a bag of snack food. Companies often want to settle quickly to avoid bad publicity and stay out of court. But forensic science has now evolved to the point where if the company strongly suspects product tampering, refuses to settle, and brings the case to the FBI, the odds are high that the tamperer will be found out and charged. In the same way, a good investigator will recognize acts of staged heroism—orchestrated scenarios created by an individual to get recognition from his or her peers or the public.
The Tylenol case, for all its horror, was something of an anomaly. It didn’t seem to be primarily an extortion. For an extortionist to succeed, he must first establish that he has the capability to make good on his threat. Extortionists who threaten product tampering, therefore, will typically alter one bottle or package of the product, mark it in some way, and deliver a warning in a phone call or a note. The Tylenol poisoner, on the other hand, didn’t begin with threats. He jumped right into killing.
By extortionist standards, he wasn’t sophisticated. Based on the crude nature of the tampering (after these murders, Johnson & Johnson spent a fortune developing effective tamper-resistant packaging), I knew this guy wasn’t highly organized. But of those who do make threats, some of the same guidelines can be used as would apply to a political-threat analysis to determine whether the threatener is actually dangerous and capable of carrying out his announced intention.
The same is true of bombers. If a bomb threat is made, it is always taken seriously. But quickly, so that society doesn’t grind to a halt, authorities must determine whether the threat is real. Bombers and extortionists typically use the word we in their communications to imply a large group watching from the shadows. The fact is, though, most of these people are suspicious loners who don’t trust others.
Bombers tend to fall into one of three categories. There are power-motivated bombers attracted to the destruction. There are mission-oriented bombers attracted to the thrill of designing, making, and placing the devices. And there are technician types who get gratification from the brilliance and cleverness of their actual design and construction. As far as motives, they range from extortion to labor disputes, revenge, even suicide.
Our research into bombers shows a repeating general profile. They’re usually white males, the age being determined by the victim or target. They’re of at least average intelligence, often quite above, though underachievers. They’re neat, orderly, and meticulous, careful planners, nonconfrontational, nonathletic, cowardly, inadequate personalities. The profile comes from assessing the target or victim and the type of device (is it more explosive or incendiary, for instance), much as we profile a serial killer from a crime scene. We would consider the risk factors associated with both the victim and the offender, whether the victim was random or intended, how accessible he or she was, what time of day the attack occurred, the method of conveyance (such as through the mail), as well as any unique qualities or idiosyncrasies in the components or workmanship of the bomb.
Early in my profiling career I developed the first profile on the now-famous Unabomber (from the FBI code name Unabom), who got his nickname by targeting universities and professors.
We learn most about bombers from their communications. By the time Unabomber decided to communicate at length with the public through his letters to newspapers and multithousand-word manifesto, he had left a trail of three deaths and twenty-three injuries in a seventeen-year career. Among other feats, he managed temporarily to slow down the entire commercial airline industry through his promise of a bomb coming out of Los Angeles International Airport.
Like most bombers, he referred to a group (the "FC" or "Freedom Club") as responsible for his terrorism. Still, there is little doubt he is the type of loner I described.
The profile has been widely published by now and I’ve seen no reason to alter my judgment. Unfortunately, despite Dr. Brussel’s groundbreaking work on the Metesky "Mad Bomber" case, when Unabomber first struck, law enforcement wasn’t as set up to use our type of analysis as they are now. Most of these guys are catchable early in their careers. The first and second crimes are the most significant in terms of behavior, location, and target, before they start perfecting what they do and moving around the country. As the years go on, they also expand their ideologies beyond the simple and elemental grudges against society that get them going in the first place. I think that had we been where we are now with profiling in 1979, Unabomber might have been caught years earlier.
Much of the time, bomb threats are a means of extortion, directed against an individual or a specific group. In the mid-1970s, a bomb threat was phoned in to the president of a bank in Texas.
In a long, complicated script, the caller says that a few days before when Southwest Bell sent technicians to the bank, it was actually his people. They planted a bomb that he can set off with a microwave switch, but he won’t do it if the president complies with his demands.
Now comes the most chilling part. He says he has the president’s wife, Louise. She drives a Cadillac, goes here in the morning, then here, et cetera, et cetera. Panicked, the president has his secretary call his home on another line because he knows his wife should be there. But no one answers. Now he’s become a believer.
Then the caller makes his money demand: used bills—tens through hundreds. Don’t contact the police, we can easily recognize their unmarked cars. Tell your secretary you’ll be leaving the bank for about forty-five minutes. Don’t contact anyone. Just before you leave, flash the lights in your office on and off three times. My group will be watching for this signal. Leave the money in your car, parked by the side of the road at a specific heavily trafficked area, leave the motor running and the parking lights on.
Now, in this particular case, there was no bomb and no abduction, merely a clever con man targeting the most likely victim. Everything about this scenario has a purpose. His timing was based on when the phone company had actually been working in the bank, so that he could cast them as his bomb planters. Everyone knows the phone company does technical work that no one understands or pays much attention to, so it’s quite believable that they could have been impostors.
Knowing the bank president would call home for his wife, the extortionist had called her that morning, claiming to be from Southwest Bell, saying they had received a number of complaints about obscene phone calls in her neighborhood and they were trying to track the caller—so between noon and twelve forty-five today, don’t pick up the phone if it rings; we�
�ll be running a trap and trace.
The instruction about leaving the money in the car with the lights on and the motor running is perhaps the most ingenious part of the plan. The president thinks the lights are part of the signal, but in fact, they’re part of the caller’s escape system. Despite the warning not to contact the police, the extortionist knows the victim will probably involve them anyway, and the most dangerous phase for the offender is always the money exchange, when he presumes the police will be watching. Under this scenario, if the offender is unfortunate enough to be nabbed by the police in the car, he can say he was walking down this busy street, saw a car with lights on and the motor running, and decided to be a Good Samaritan and turn them off. If the police grab him at that point, they’ve got nothing. Even if they grab him with the money, since he’s already established a legitimate reason to be in the car, he can say he found the bag sitting there on the seat and was going to turn it in to the police.
For the extortionist, this is a percentage game. He’s got his script written out and all he has to do is fill in the details. If today’s targeted victim doesn’t go for it, he’ll try it on another the next day. Eventually, one of them is going to bite, and he’ll end up with a nice piece of change for his efforts without actually having to kidnap or bomb anyone. In these cases, the script is generally a good piece of evidence since the offender will keep it, knowing it will be useful for future jobs. Because the one thing he knows is that with a few simple advance arrangements, anyone can be his victim.
Once authorities were finally onto his tricks, he was apprehended, tried, and convicted. He turned out to be a former disc jockey who had decided to put his gift of gab to more short-term advantage.
What’s the difference between this type of individual and one who actually does kidnap? They’re both in it for profit, so neither one wants to expose himself to the victim any more than necessary because killing is not part of the aim. The big difference is that the true kidnapper will generally need someone to help carry out his scheme, and while the simple extortionist is basically a clever con man, the kidnapper is a sociopath. Killing the victim is not his intention, but he is clearly willing to do so to fulfill his goals.
Steve Mardigian participated in the case of an Exxon Corporation vice president who was abducted in front of his home in New Jersey and held for ransom. In the struggle, he was shot in the arm by accident. The kidnappers—a former company security guard and his wife—went ahead with the abduction and held the wounded man (who had a heart condition) in a box, where he died. The reason for the box—or its equivalent—is so that the abductors can have as little contact with the victim as possible and not have to personalize him. In this case, the kidnappers professed regret at the outcome and a sense of desperation that led them to the crime in the first place. But they did it, and they carried it out step-by-step without hesitation. They were willing to have someone else die for their selfish purposes, and that is one of the definitions of sociopathic behavior.
As terrifying as it is, unlike certain other serious crimes, kidnapping is such a difficult act to get away with that an investigator really has to evaluate it carefully and with a skeptical eye, looking closely at victimology and preoffense behavior. And, while acknowledging that anyone can be a victim, the investigator has to be able to answer the question: why this particular victim?
A couple of years ago, I got an urgent call one night at home. A detective in Oregon proceeded to tell me the story of a young woman who went to school in his district. She was being stalked, but neither she nor anyone else could discover the identity of the stalker. She would see the stalker in the woods, but by the time her father or boyfriend went out to look, he was gone. He would call the house, but never when anyone else was home. The girl was turning into a basket case. After several unnerving weeks of this, she was at a restaurant with her boyfriend. She left the table to go to the ladies’ room. While leaving the rest room, she was grabbed and quickly dragged out to the parking lot, where her assailant savagely stuck a gun barrel into her vagina, threatened to kill her if she went to the police, then let her go. She was emotionally traumatized and couldn’t provide a good description.
Now, apparently, she’d been abducted as she left the library one night. Her car was found in the parking lot. There had been no communication and things were beginning to look pretty grim.
I asked the detective to tell me about the victim. She was a beautiful girl who’d always done well in school. But last year she’d had a baby and had had some problems with her family, particularly her father, about support. Her grades had been going to hell lately, especially after the stalking began.
I said not to say anything to the father just yet in case I was wrong and the young woman ended up dead, but this sounded to me like a hoax. Who would stalk her? She had a steady boyfriend and no recent breakups. Generally, when a noncelebrity is stalked, it is by someone who knows that person in one way or another. Stalkers aren’t that good or careful at what they do. If she saw the stalker, her father and boyfriend should not have missed him each time. No one else ever got the phone calls. And when police put a trap and trace on the line, the calls suddenly stopped. It also happened that the kidnapping took place right before final exams—not at all a coincidental finding.
The proactive strategy, I suggested, would be to have the father be interviewed by the media, emphasize the positiveness of their relationship, say how much he loves her and wants her back, appealing to the kidnapper to let her go. If I was right, she should turn up a day or two later, banged up and dirty with a story about how she was abducted, abused, and thrown out of a car on the side of a road.
This is what happened. She was pretty banged up and filthy with a story of abduction. I said that the interrogation—in this case in the form of a debriefing—should focus on what we really believed had happened. It should not be accusatory, but acknowledge that she was having a lot of trouble with her parents; going through a lot of stress, trauma, and pain; was panicked by exams; and needed a face-saving way out. She should be told that she didn’t need punishment, what she needed was counseling and understanding, and that she would get it. Once that was made clear, she confessed to the hoax.
This is one of those cases you sweat, though. If you’re wrong, the consequences are horrible, because when stalking is for real, it can be a terrifying and, too often, deadly crime.
Most often, whether we’re talking about the stalking of a celebrity or an ordinary person, the stalking begins with love or admiration. John Hinckley "loved" Jodie Foster and wanted her to return his love. However, she was a beautiful movie star going to Yale and he was an inadequate nobody. He believed he had to do something to equalize the situation and impress her. And what could be more "impressive" than the historic act of assassinating the president of the United States? In his more lucid moments, he must have realized that his dream of the two of them living happily ever after together wasn’t going to come about. But through his act, he did achieve one of his goals. He became famous, and in a perverse way, he would be forever connected to Foster in the public mind.
As with most of these cases, there was an immediate stressor with Hinckley. Around the time he shot President Reagan his father had given him an ultimatum about getting a job and supporting himself on his own.
Secret Service agent Ken Baker conducted a prison interview with Mark David Chapman, the assassin of John Lennon. Chapman felt a strong connection to the former Beatle and, on a superficial level, tried to emulate him. He collected all of Lennon’s songs and even went through a string of Asian girlfriends, to imitate Lennon’s marriage to Yoko Ono. But as happens with many of these types, eventually he reached a point where his inadequacy was overwhelming. He could no longer deal with the disparity between himself and his hero and so had to kill him. Chillingly, one of the things that moved Hinckley to commit his crime and become famous (notorious is actually a much better word) was the example of Chapman.
I interview
ed Arthur Bremmer, who stalked and then attempted to assassinate Alabama governor George Wallace in Maryland while he was running for president, leaving Wallace paralyzed and in chronic pain for life. Bremmer didn’t hate Wallace. Prior to the shooting, he’d stalked President Nixon for several weeks but couldn’t get close enough to him. He just got desperate to do something to show the world his worth, and Wallace was approachable, essentially another victim in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The cases of stalking that have turned to assassination are alarming in their number. In the case of political figures, there is the construct of a "cause" for the killing, although this is virtually always a cover for a deeply inadequate nobody who wants to be a somebody. In the case of movie stars and celebrities like John Lennon, even that excuse is meaningless. Among the most tragic of the cases is the murder of twenty-one-year-old Rebecca Schaeffer in front of her Los Angeles apartment in 1989. The beautiful and talented young actress, who had become widely known as Pam Dawber’s younger sister on the television series My Sister Sam, was shot once, as she answered the front door, by Robert John Bardo, an unemployed nineteen-year-old from Tucson whose most recent job had been as janitor in a Jack in the Box. Like Chapman, Bardo had begun as an adoring fan. His adoration had grown into obsession, and if he couldn’t then have a "normal" relationship with her, he would have to "possess" her in another way.
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