Perfect Victim (37 page)

‘I have my own suspicions,’ he said, ‘but they are no more than that. Even at this point, I still don’t think any of us have a particularly wonderful understanding of Caroline, or the murder itself. Perhaps in the fullness of time, she may find herself able to talk about what happened a bit more clearly. You never know. Still, I am left with that sense of not being one hundred per cent certain about anything at all.’

One thing Pathe, like Minisini, is in no doubt about, however, is that Robertson’s perception is that she is the victim in this case, her pity more directed towards her own plight than the fate of her victim.

A prominent Australian specialist on stalking and obsessive behaviours and now head of the world’s first stalking and threat management centre, based in Melbourne, Dr Pathe describes the murder as a depressive homicide committed by a narcissistic killer. Narcissistic killers, she explains, are self-centred individuals incapable of empathising with their victims. Unlike some depressed people, who turn to suicide as a means of escaping intense emotional pain, depressed narcissistic people strike outwardly, killing others in response to perceived past hurts and humiliations.

‘Homicidal depression can be considered narcissistic because it involves reactions to shame, and loss of pride,’ explains Dr Pathe. ‘These cases of homicidal depression where the losses are internalised are quite different from the psychological state of killers in ‘anaclitic’ homicides, which are reactions to external losses – like the loss of a relationship, a person, or an object. Since narcissistic people tend to be egocentric and focused only on their own feelings, they have difficulty forming relationships with others and are incapable of empathising with anyone else’s feelings. Narcissistic people are able to establish attachments, but demonstrate reactions of anxiety and despair when those attachments later break down – striking out in response.

‘What I see clearly in the Robertson case,’ Dr Pathe says, ‘are the feelings of shame and humiliation which result from narcissistic “injuries” and lead to serious loss of self-esteem and resulting depressive mood. They produce intense aggressive impulses and result in a general lashing out at others. When a narcissistic individual eventually unleashes their aggression, they are incapable of feelings towards their victim or family. They are thinking only of themselves and feeling sorry only for themselves who they see as the
true
victim of their actions. And this is what we have in Robertson’s case.

‘Robertson’s writings are typical of those of a narcissistic envy killer,’ states Dr Pathe. ‘She sees
herself
victimised by the world. This warped victim scenario is commonly observed in studies on stalkers and obsessive personalities.’

Dr Pathe says closer examination of Robertson’s writings reveals that her developing fixation with Rachel Barber led to close monitoring, or stalking, of her victim. ‘While no evidence exists of an obsession in the true psychiatric meaning of the word, there are certainly obsessional qualities about the lists she prepared on her victim. The ongoing surveillance became consuming over time.’

Making the distinction between ‘obsession’ and ‘fixation’, Dr Pathe explains that
obsessive thinking
involves unpleasant and intrusive thoughts that cause distress to the individual. But there was no hint of distress in Robertson’s mind as she meticulously compiled lists about her victim’s personality, her life, her family and her physical appearance. Her continued monitoring, which included photographing Rachel, applying for her birth certificate, and written observations on her dance school, boyfriend and family, all highlight the deepening fixation.

‘The perpetrator also made other observations about the victim, such as Rachel dyeing her hair several different colours, and it is clear that by the time Robertson was arrested she had dyed her hair green and had been planning cosmetic surgery to transform her facial features, perhaps into those of her victim. All evidence of wanting to emulate her.’

Dr Pathe says intense interest like this often leads to stalkers experiencing a ‘fusion’ process with their victim as they over-identify with the object of their fascination. It might begin with emulating clothing, hairstyles, make-up – and grow until, in the stalker’s mind, he or she is the victim of the situation. As reality blurs, this perception is heightened. While Rachel Barber was the real victim in this case, in Robertson’s eyes Robertson herself was the victim, and Rachel was the cause of
her
pain and misery. ‘We know of cases where stalkers, in their irrational frame of mind, blame their victim for stalking
them
,’ says Dr Pathe. ‘The reality is actually very different but that is how
they
perceive it.’

She agrees with Claude Minisini’s observations that Robertson saw herself to be the victim in a hostile world that had mistreated and humiliated her. Like Justice Vincent, she believes that the killer was a self-absorbed young woman focused solely on her own feelings and desires. She is highly immature, Dr Pathe says – a self-centred individual with a ‘very manipulative nature’ who had begun to dissociate herself from reality and escape into fantasy. ‘And it’s likely Robertson had been quietly boiling with rage for some time before the murder.’

Though the courts had heard explanations from Robertson’s assessing specialists that Rachel had been murdered by someone who wanted to possess her qualities, Dr Pathe believes the final act of killing the young dancer was much more of a ‘lashing out’ at the world for all the injustices the killer had ever suffered. ‘Robertson’s target was not somebody who had personally wronged her. Instead, Rachel exemplified the type of person who had previously oppressed and humiliated her. Robertson was striking back against the more powerful forces oppressing her. Her resentment against an unfeeling world, real or imagined, likely preceded her interest in Rachel, but then Rachel became the focus, the proxy, against whom she channelled all her resentment.’

She says that Robertson’s typically self-referential and oversensitive behaviour reflects someone inclined to project their anger and persecution onto others, having grown up to perceive the world as a rejecting, persecuting place. And why Rachel in particular? Pathe supports Claude Minisini’s view that Robertson chose Rachel rather than any other fifteen-year-old as the object of her rage simply because she was easy to kill. ‘Rachel Barber, unfortunately, became the accessible representative of all those people who had previously made her life a misery, by being successful and pretty and talented. Robertson knew she could get to her.’

Neither Dr Pathe nor Claude Minisini was surprised to learn that Robertson had built up a collection of magazine photographs of actresses, all fresh-faced, pretty and talented, like Katie Holmes and Claire Danes and, indeed, like Rachel. All symbols of what she wanted to be. This was, according to Dr Pathe, part of the fixation she developed in conjunction with her fantasy ideal, part of the fusion taking place between fantasy and reality, between herself and the person she wanted to be.

‘It is a disturbing feature of the case,’ Dr Pathe says, ‘that the murder was premeditated by such a young woman over such a long period, with Robertson recording information on her victim, setting out her plan to lure and later dump her. All of this is consistent with the methodical, structured and highly organised personality she appears to be. But perhaps, at some level she never really believed she would do it. Yet the tragic reality is that she did.’ Dr Pathe says it was clear that reality had already begun to dissolve from Robertson’s life years before she murdered Rachel. Her writings certainly illustrate intense periods of despondency characterised by hopelessness, resentment and anger.

‘I think the observations of her work associates illustrate a person living out some sort of fantasy most of the time,’ says Dr Pathe. ‘It’s interesting that she makes constant mention of theatre friends that never existed and fantasises about becoming an actor, sometimes even talking as if she already was an actor. It shows she was using fantasy as an escape, either from the awfulness of her daily life or to protect herself from extreme emotional pain. Escaping to fantasy had the inevitable result of leaving her friendless … Allowing anyone to get too close would simply have exposed her fantasy life for the elaborate lie it had become.’

This ability to dissociate herself from the world, Dr Pathe says, while a feature in some sexual abuse victims, can also be used by others as an emotional safety device. For this reason Dr Pathe feels that it is dangerous to give too much credence to her so-called sexual abuse story, because it could well be false. Perhaps, Dr Pathe hypothesises, this is why Robertson didn’t want the matter explored further in court, because it might not stand up to closer scrutiny.

Minisini also remains sceptical about any sexual abuse claims. He sees them as another manifestation of the notion of Robertson as a woman who lies and manipulates. He views the issue of sexual abuse as a careful strategy aimed at generating the sympathy required by a person still needing to be perceived as a victim.

Melbourne-based criminologist Judy Wright also agrees, saying that while Robertson’s defence claimed there was no advantage to be gained in raising the issue of sexual abuse unless it were true, she believes the defendant had in fact a great deal to gain. ‘Especially if the claim is false, because it not only feeds into the notion that she is a victim, but it is an ideal diversion and an effective means of creating at least a little doubt in everyone’s minds. The defence asked why it should be raised at all, only for Robertson to refuse to allow it to be used as part of the defence plea. But I would say the primary advantage lies in making the suggestion itself. Just by hinting at the possibility of some past sexual trauma, even if it isn’t true, leaves everyone wondering. She doesn’t need to take it any further which means it cannot be fully explored by the Crown, or disputed. So either way it works for her.’

Wright, who once worked with serial sex offenders during her years with the Office of Corrections and now teaches criminology at a number of tertiary institutes in Melbourne, cautiously raises another point: prison libraries, she says, are filled with books on coping with sexual and physical abuse, and overcoming dependencies. This provides an opportunity for clever offenders to familiarise themselves with helpful information while on remand. This information might help an offender successfully portray herself as a victim at a pending hearing, but not enough to stand the test of close scrutiny if it were questioned. However, Wright asks, given insufficient detail, even if sexual abuse were true, would it be an excuse for murder?

‘It’s always fascinated me that when we have male offenders we rarely look at their victimisation, yet with women, there is certainly a tendency to pathologise their crimes – even medicalise them,’ says Wright. ‘With men, while we might well accept they have had a hard life, it never excuses what they have done.’ Yet, she argues, medicalising the behaviour of female offenders is now almost routinely employed in the defence of women, particularly those on serious charges. But with men, their crimes are often simply put down to anger and violence. ‘You don’t hear many men saying they were depressed at the time they committed an offence because their hormones were fluctuating or that their testosterone levels were too high, making them aggressive and angry. We almost accept that it is part of male make-up for them to be outwardly angry, so they don’t need an excuse. Yet with women, we instantly assume there
must
have been some underlying medical reason to have caused them to behave in such an anti-social way.’

She poses the question: what if Rachel Barber had been abducted and murdered by a twenty-year-old son of a family friend, instead of a twenty-year-old daughter? Would the same background reasoning of deep depression, self-loathing and perhaps sexual abuse, have explained such a crime? ‘I doubt it,’ says Wright. ‘It would instantly raise suspicions about a sexually motivated crime: a pretty young dancer becoming the subject of unwanted interest and a strange infatuation, all the more understandable if the perpetrator is male. We’d say the victim was abducted and lured to the perpetrator’s home and the crime would be bound to be seen to have sexual connotations. No doubt the young girl rejected his advances and he would, most likely we assume, have sexually assaulted her before killing her in the heat of the moment. It would make more sense.

‘Would we care that he’d been bullied at school, had feelings of despair over his parents’ marriage break-up, or his general depression? Would we listen to his bizarre writings being read out in court and feel sorry that his cries for help didn’t receive an appropriate level of response? How would being a
male
misfit excuse murder? Even if he hadn’t gone to the extraordinary lengths of planning the killing in fine detail like Robertson did, would any of these same arguments raise any sympathy? Do the crime, do the time. No sympathy.’

So Wright is certain that a medical explanation for a male’s criminal behaviour would raise little public sympathy. ‘Research amongst offenders shows that just as many males as females have been sexually abused as children, probably more. Yet experts assessing females are much more likely to raise these issues in pre-court assessment reports, sometimes perhaps suggesting to offenders during interviews that there might be such a background. I note from Robertson’s case that in cross-examination one of the assessing doctors admitted he had asked her if there was a past of sexual abuse. Robertson had not volunteered this information, but had raised it only after being questioned by a doctor.

‘The defence use the argument that if it
had
been a lie, she would have raised it earlier in the proceedings, especially if she was making it up for sympathy,’ says Wright. ‘But
earlier
in the proceedings she was maintaining her innocence and going for trial. The issue of sexual abuse was raised pretty quickly once she changed her plea and was about to front court, where she’d be facing a heavy jail sentence.’