Stalkers and their Victims, 2nd Edition

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Stalkers and Their Victims

Stalkers and Their Victims Second Edition

Paul E. Mullen Monash University and Victorian Institute of Forensic Mental Health, Victoria, Australia

Michele Pathé Monash University and Victorian Institute of Forensic Mental Health, Victoria, Australia

Rosemary Purcell ORYGEN Research Centre, University of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521732413 © P. Mullen, M. Pathé and R. Purcell 2009 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2008

ISBN-13

978-0-511-45571-1

eBook (EBL)

ISBN-13

978-0-521-73241-3

paperback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urls for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Every effort has been made in preparing this publication to provide accurate and up-to-date information which is in accord with accepted standards and practice at the time of publication. Although case histories are drawn from actual cases, every effort has been made to disguise the identities of the individuals involved. Nevertheless, the authors, editors and publishers can make no warranties that the information contained herein is totally free from error, not least because clinical standards are constantly changing through research and regulation. The authors, editors and publishers therefore disclaim all liability for direct or consequential damages resulting from the use of material contained in this publication. Readers are strongly advised to pay careful attention to information provided by the manufacturer of any drugs or equipment that they plan to use.

Contents

Preface Acknowledgements

page vii ix

1.

Stalking: a problem behaviour

2.

Stalking as a social construction and social reality

11

3.

The epidemiology of stalking

22

4.

The victims of stalkers

35

5.

Stalking typologies and classifications

58

6.

The rejected stalker and the resentful stalker

69

The intimacy seeker and the incompetent suitor

82

The erotomanias and the morbid infatuations

92

7.

8.

9.

1

The predatory stalker

110

10.

Stalking among juveniles

124

11.

Female stalkers

136

12.

Same-gender stalking

141

13.

Cyberstalking

152

14.

Stalking by proxy

157

15.

The law as the stalker’s agent

164

16.

Stalking in the workplace

172

17.

Stalking of health professionals

184

v

vi

Contents

18.

Stalking celebrities and other public figures

197

19.

False victims of stalking

209

20.

Evaluating and managing risk in the stalking situation

226

21.

The therapeutic approach to the stalker

251

22.

Reducing the impact of stalking on victims

262

Defining and prosecuting the offence of stalking

282

23.

Appendix: Victim services References Index

295 297 313

Preface

Since the first edition of this book was published in 2000 there has been an explosion in the information available about stalking, and several hundred new studies are referenced in this second edition. In the scientific literature, studies have tended to focus on the nature and prevalence of this problem behaviour, as well as on risk assessment and management. The advances in knowledge about the management and protection of victims have also been considerable. Far less progress has occurred in the management of stalkers. The stalker continues to attract the attention of mental health professionals mainly as an object for risk assessment technologies rather than as a potential patient. This is unfortunate, for though not all stalkers are amenable to treatment some are, and their treatment may provide the most effective long-term relief for the victim. This is a book written by clinicians with an interest in research. We all spend part of our working week with stalkers and their victims. Michele Pathé now works mainly with victims but also with the most troubling group of stalkers, those found among predatory sex offenders. Rosie Purcell has a special interest in stalking within institutional settings like universities and companies. Paul Mullen sees a range of stalkers referred from courts and other mental health services. Both Michele Pathé and Paul Mullen have had the opportunity to work with David James and colleagues in the UK on the stalking of royalty and prominent politicians. These experiences influence and shape the approach in this book. We have attempted to provide a clinical, and ultimately a practical, account of a problem behaviour and its impact on both the victims

vii

viii

Preface

and the perpetrators. The systematic studies and theoretical accounts provided by other workers in the field, as well as our own research, form the basic material for the book. The manner in which this information is analysed and understood is, however, through our perspective as clinicians concerned both for stalkers and for their victims. In keeping with our clinical bias, regular use is made of case vignettes. These accounts, all from our own clinical practice unless otherwise specified, have been

anonymised by changing names and non-essential features, and sometimes aspects from similar cases have been combined. Our hope is that the book will provide a clear and accessible account which does justice to the complexities of the social, criminal justice, psychological and psychopathological factors in stalking situations. We hope we have succeeded in conveying some of our fascination with the stalking situation and our concern for the victims of this all too common behaviour.

Acknowledgements

Our sincere thanks to Julie Thompson for her diligence and fortitude in preparing the manuscript. Our thanks also to Dr Rachel MacKenzie and Dr Troy McEwan for their doctoral research and ongoing contributions to this body of work. We are very grateful to Hugh Brazier for his meticulous and good-natured copy-editing. Finally we would like to thank the victims of stalking and the stalkers who provided information through interviews and questionnaires at the cost of their time and their emotional energies, knowing it was in pursuit of our scientific enquiries and not necessarily their own management. Marina Perkovich is a Melbourne-based artist who was born in Croatia. The cover artwork is part of a series entitled Inside the Sick House, which deals with both her experiences as a social worker and her stalking victimisation. Images of her home environment and photographs of custody settings in which she worked are collaged together to create a mysterious world full of foreboding. Marina is currently studying textile design.

ix

1 Stalking: a problem behaviour

Ce grand malheur, de ne pouvoir être seul1 La Bruyère, quoted by Poe (1840)

Introduction Stalkers and stalking are words which have acquired new connotations by being increasingly applied to individuals who persistently pursue or otherwise intrude on others. Stalking has emerged as a social problem which not only commands considerable public attention but is now, in many jurisdictions, a specific form of criminal offence. Stalking is increasingly attracting clinical and research interest among behavioural scientists and mental health professionals. The word stalk refers to the act of following one’s prey, as well as meaning to walk stealthily. To label someone a stalker has been, at least from the sixteenth century, to imply they are a prowler or a poacher (OED, 1989). When the media appropriated the word to describe those who pestered and harassed others they provided a new focus for this ancient indictment. Stalking is now part of our culture’s language. It has become a category with which we describe and understand our experiences. If someone is repeatedly followed by a stranger, or is distressed at receiving numerous unwanted letters from an estranged partner, then, in today’s world, they are likely to describe themselves as being stalked. Looking back over their life, they may now recall having been stalked in the past. At the time they

1

‘This greatest of misfortunes, not being able to be alone.’

might have described the experience as one of being persistently pestered but now, retrospectively, it is recognised as having been stalked. This is not just the substitution of one word for another. Stalking and being stalked are constructs with particular implications and resonance. Stalking is now a warning of future violence. Stalking is a cause of psychological damage. Stalking is a form of victimisation. Stalkers are dangerous. Stalkers are criminals. Stalkers are disturbed and unpredictable. Stalking implies the inflicting of distress and damage (whether or not the perpetrator consciously intends such damage). Being stalked evokes the self-perception of being violated and hurt. In attributing to ourselves the experience of being stalked (and occasionally of being, or having been, a stalker) we potentially change our evaluation of ourselves. We change our moral judgement of what is occurring. Our expectations alter of what will happen and what we have a right to expect from society. The question of whether this reframing is ‘a good thing’ is not at issue here; what is at issue is recognising the potential changes inherent in the emergence of stalking as a social category. The experience of certain types of interactions and certain forms of relatedness have been changed forever (for further discussion see Chapter 2). The capacity of new social constructs like stalking to reframe the past so as to endow it with new meanings and new resonance is not confined to personal experience. The rediscovery and publishing of the longignored first novel of Louisa May Alcott (1832–88) provides a curious illustration of this phenomenon. A Long Fatal Love Chase was written in 1866, two years prior to Little Women (Alcott, 1997). The plot involves the

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Chapter 1: Stalking: a problem behaviour

protracted pursuit of the heroine, Rosamond, by her estranged husband. When Rosamond flees her marriage as a result of discovering both his polygamy and his murderous past he refuses to accept that the relationship is at an end. His reaction is initially portrayed as a desire for reconciliation and a wish to continue their relationship. As she continues to try to escape him he becomes increasingly resentful and angry: ‘with his own unabated passion was now mingled a resentful desire to make her expiate her contempt by fresh humiliation or suffering’ (p. 329). The novel climaxes with the murder of Rosamond and the suicide of her killer, who dies uttering ‘mine first – mine last – mine even in the grave!’ (p. 346). This overheated example of the gothic languished in a university library until resuscitated and published in 1993. It re-emerged as a tale of stalking. On the cover of the paperback version appears the following: ‘He stalked her every step – for she had become his obsession.’ Inside the book are numerous endorsements and quotes from reviews, including this from USA Today: ‘A tale of obsessive love, stalking and murder that seems ripped off today’s tabloids’. Though it might be more correct to say today’s tabloids have endowed this nineteenth-century novel not only with new relevance but with new meaning and a new relationship to our culture’s current preoccupations.

Defining stalking Meloy and Gothard (1995) defined stalking, or, as they prefer to call it, obsessional following, as ‘an abnormal or long-term pattern of threat or harassment directed toward a specific individual’ (p. 259). The pattern of threat or harassment was further clarified as being ‘more than one overt act of unwanted pursuit of the victim that was perceived by the victim as being harassing’, though more than one may seem a generous rendering of a long-term pattern. Meloy (1998b) further states that in distinction to legal definitions, which are set forth to define and prosecute criminal behaviour, this definition was designed to further scientific investigation and clinical understanding. The advantage of this definition is that it directs attention to actions which

are repeated and are perceived as unwanted by the object of these attentions. A further potential strength of this definition is that, disavowals notwithstanding, it closely parallels many of the statutory definitions of the offence of stalking. Pathé and Mullen (1997) define stalking as ‘a constellation of behaviours in which one individual inflicts on another repeated unwanted intrusions and communications’ (p. 12). The intrusions are further characterised as ‘following, loitering nearby, maintaining surveillance and making approaches’ and the communications via ‘letter, the telephone, electronic mail, graffiti or notes attached, for example, to the victim’s car’ (p. 12). To which can now be added texting, which is often the youthful stalker’s prime method of communication. The authors added that, though not part of the core and defining behaviours, there were also the associated activities of ordering goods on the victim’s behalf, interfering with their property, making false accusations and vexatious complaints, issuing threats, and in some cases assaulting the victim. Pathé and Mullen (1997) attempt a definition which can be operationalised and which depends on observable activities, except with the qualification that the activities be unwanted by the victim. It defines a course of conduct but, as it stands, offers no temporal or numerical limits to that conduct. In a subsequent publication, these authors suggested that to constitute stalking the behaviour should consist of at least 10 separate intrusions and/or communications, with the conduct spanning a period of at least four weeks (Mullen et al., 1999). This was an intentionally conservative set of limitations which ensured that the study group consisted unequivocally of stalkers. Westrup (1998) suggested that stalking behaviour be defined as ‘one or more of a constellation of behaviours that (a) are directed repeatedly towards a specific individual (the target), (b) are experienced by the target as unwelcome and intrusive, and (c) are reported to trigger fear or concern in the target’ (p. 276). Subsequent research (see Chapter 3) has suggested that the overarching term stalking encompasses at least two separable problem behaviours. The first typically lasts only a day or so and consists of repeated approaches and following, usually by a stranger or casual

Defining stalking

contact. These brief periods of harassment usually either arise from inept attempts to start a relationship, or are expressions of anger at some supposed slight or injury. The second pattern is characterised by extended, but usually less intense, unwanted intrusions typically lasting for many months. This is usually perpetrated by ex-intimates or acquaintances. In these more extended episodes of stalking, unwanted communications are more prominent, as are the associated behaviours including threats and violence. It has been found empirically that it is possible to separate the stalking characterised by brief, but often intense, intrusions from the more extended pattern of stalking behaviours (Purcell et al., 2004a). Those stalking episodes which continue beyond two weeks will typically continue for many months, whereas those that ceased prior to two weeks will largely have only lasted a day or so. This bimodal distribution of very brief versus extended patterns suggests that they may be separate phenomena (for further discussion see Chapter 3). A third pattern of stalkinglike behaviour, termed obsessive relational intrusion, may be provided by the overenthusiastic, over-hopeful and insensitive courtship practices of some young people who repeatedly intrude on someone, usually from their general social circle, with whom they desire a relationship (Spitzberg & Rhea, 1999; Cupach & Spitzberg, 2000a, 2000b; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2003). The targets of this misplaced ardour have not responded positively to the advances, but to be fair have often not clearly rejected them either. Unlike the previously described stalking, irritation rather than fear is the usual reaction of the victim, and a more robust rejection may terminate hope and with it the behaviour. Given that most definitions emphasise that stalking is a course of conduct involving repeated actions, the behaviour must occur on more than one occasion – but how many more times than one? Meloy and Gothard (1995) opt for two or more instances, and in this they are in accord with most statutory definitions of the crime of stalking (for a full discussion of the legal discourse on stalking see Chapter 23). Thus by their definition the ex-partner who makes a second unwanted phone call to a sensitive erstwhile mate potentially enters the ranks of stalkers. Equally, so does the hopeful suitor who puts himself for a second time in the way of

the woman he desires, if as a result she feels harassed. The problem with such a low threshold is that it leaves little if any gap between stalking and those behaviours which may well be irritating but are certainly extremely common. By placing the lower end of the spectrum of stalking so close to many mundane activities, one captures a very wide range of commonplace behaviours. On the other hand, why shouldn’t a woman followed home by a strange man on two sequential nights be eligible to claim that she is a victim of stalking? The impetus to cast the net as widely as possible in defining stalking reflects at least three influences. The first is the tendency noted by Westrup (1998) to conflate stalking as a description of surreptitious following with stalking as the overarching term for a variety of unwanted attempts to maintain contact. Being followed on one occasion is, for most of us, an unsettling experience – and when it is repeated most reasonable people would become concerned about their safety. This is all the more so if the follower is a man, unknown, or, worse still, is known to hold a grudge. Secondly, stalking is constructed, particularly by law enforcement agencies, as a warning sign of imminent violence. If stalking is viewed primarily as the harbinger of assault then the quicker it is recognised and responded to the better. The third is that more than once seems less arbitrary than more than five, more than 10, more than 17 times. Nobody would want to advise a terrified victim who has had a man stand outside the house all night looking up at the window on nine consecutive nights that, according to Mullen et al. (1999), they had another night to go before they could claim they were being stalked. Central to the concern not to place an inevitably arbitrary barrier to the recognition and potential response to stalking is the proper concern to respond to fear and distress in a potential victim. The resolution of the dilemma of the threshold for the number of intrusions which constitute stalking should, we believe, be a function of the purpose for which the behaviours are being labelled as stalking. The law may plausibly claim a need to respond promptly in pursuit of public safety to the first signs of risk. Given the all too often tardy and partial responses of police and the courts to even gross and extended stalking activities, anxieties about overreaction may seem misplaced.

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Chapter 1: Stalking: a problem behaviour

It should be noted, however, that the low threshold for committing a stalking offence tempts police to use this as a so-called ‘loading’ charge to add on to other offences. At our clinic we have seen a number of men charged with stalking in association with child molestation offences where the so-called stalking was integral to the sexual offence. One man was charged with stalking on the basis of following a child around a playground and subsequently approaching the child in the street where he exposed himself. The two approaches were enough to trigger the stalking charge, which in our jurisdiction carries a potential sentence many times greater than that for the indecent act of exhibitionism. Though the child molester’s plight may evoke little sympathy, the use of anti-stalking laws in this context risks diluting their effectiveness in situations where no other legal protections exist. If penalties for indecent exposure to children are inadequate the solution is to change the penalty. To inappropriately employ antistalking laws which are still in the process of having their role and scope determined by the criminal justice system puts in jeopardy reforms whose purpose was to extend protection to a previously ignored group of victims. If we place only brief time constraints on the behaviour which constitutes stalking, then walking past someone and looking at them on three or four occasions in the space of an hour or so at, for example, an open-air market could conceivably be construed as stalking. And in fact was, in one case we evaluated. Equally, to return to our example of the nocturnal observer outside the front gate, is it reasonable to deny the protection of the law until two weeks have elapsed? It would be comforting to believe that common sense would arbitrate between irritating but broadly sanctioned behaviours and those which are sufficiently intrusive and so potentially fear-inducing as to justify their being labelled, and potentially prosecuted, as stalking. But such common sense depends on shared common values. It is at least arguable that the emergence of stalking as an issue reflects a process of change, if not fragmentation, in our culture’s previously shared notions of privacy, personal safety and the proper limits on the forms of contact and approach sanctioned by courtship and even marriage. Central to the construction

of stalking are the perceptions of the person who is the object of the unwanted attentions that these behaviours are harassing and frightening. It is not the intentions of the putative stalker that are the defining element, but the reactions of the recipient of the unwanted attention who, in the act of experiencing themselves as victimised, creates a stalking event. In the final analysis, stalking lies in the eye of the beholder. Stalking is those repeated acts, experienced as unpleasantly intrusive, which create apprehension and which can be understood by a reasonable fellow citizen (the ordinary man or woman) to be grounds for becoming fearful. A case example will illustrate the extent to which perpetrator and victim may construct the behaviours differently. CASE EXAMPLE When first seen, Patrick was in prison on remand for charges relating to the stalking of his ex-wife. His imprisonment had followed the repeated phoning and approaching of his ex-wife despite both his bail conditions and a previous court order which specifically forbade such contact. He was a practising Catholic, married five years with one child. He regarded marriage as a permanent union. From his perspective he had fulfilled all his obligations to his wife and child: he had worked long hours to provide a substantial income, he had never, whilst they were together, been threatening, let alone violent. He believed he had always been loving and considerate, and he had never even looked at another woman. He had complied, albeit reluctantly, when his wife asked him to move out of the marital home for what he claimed she said would be a brief period because she ‘needed space’ and had ‘some personal issues’. When, however, a few weeks later she had indicated she wished the separation to become permanent, he described himself as devastated. He saw his behaviour over the subsequent year as reasonable and constituting legitimate attempts to attain a reconciliation with his estranged wife. He claimed his repeated phone calls and multiple attempts to approach his wife simply indicated how important she was to him and how enthusiastic he was for a reconciliation. Following her and watching the house at night were in his view the natural result of her seeing another man with sufficient frequency to stimulate in him fears about her fidelity. He acknowledged that on occasions he had become enraged by his wife’s repeated rejections of his advances and that he had several times threatened her and on one occasion torn up the garden fence when refused entry to the house. Though he was prepared to accept he should not have lost control he was firmly of the view

Stalking as popular, legal and scientific discourses

that any reasonable man in his position would have been likely to have responded in a similar way. Patrick was an enormous man, standing over two metres and weighing more than 120 kg, but, in his view, he couldn’t be held responsible for his size and it was of no relevance that he might have been seen as intimidating. Patrick was an intelligent man who was perfectly capable of calculating his own advantage. Despite this he had given the magistrate, who told him he must not continue trying to contact his estranged wife, an extended and forceful lecture on the magistrate’s moral failings in trying to put asunder those whom God had joined. At a later stage he gave the Parole Board a similar piece of his mind. Such outbursts, he was aware, virtually guaranteed his detention, but he felt he could not in all decency refrain. The estranged wife’s perspective was clear from her various statements to police and from two thorough victim impact reports prepared as part of the court’s consideration of sentencing options. She had been initially attracted to Patrick because he seemed so strong and stable, and at that time in her life, following the breakdown of a previous relationship, these had been important qualities. She stated she had wanted them to live together but she had acquiesced in his wishes for marriage. From her perspective the relationship had soon foundered as she was exposed to the extent of Patrick’s demanding dependence. She stated she felt as if she had a family of two small children, not one. She described repeated attempts to negotiate a separation, which Patrick had ignored, threatening suicide should she leave. Her statements did not attempt to hide that she had established a new relationship with an old boyfriend prior to finally persuading Patrick to move out. Nor did she deny that she had managed finally to evict Patrick by misleading him into believing this was a temporary separation. Equally clear was the devastating impact of Patrick’s repeated intrusions on his ex-wife. She was terrified. She described barricading herself in her house, never going out without an escort, being too frightened to answer the phone, being constantly vigilant, expecting yet another intrusion. She reported fearing not only for her own life but for that of her child. She had broken off her relationship with the other man for fear of further provoking Patrick. She now lived the life of a recluse. For the first time in her life she was using sleeping tablets, and she had been prescribed antidepressants. Over the subsequent two years, Patrick spent several periods in prison and made two serious suicide attempts. His estranged wife finally fled to another state, changing her name, breaking off all contact with friends and family and attempting to ‘disappear’. Two lives were devastated, and that ignores the possible impact on their child. Patrick’s sense of entitlement

to his wife and child are unchanged. He still believes he acted in the only ways open to him.

This was a clear case of stalking in the context of a relationship breakdown. Patrick’s behaviour was not only illegal but would probably be regarded by most of his fellow citizens as unconscionable. Not so long ago, however, in most Western societies it would have been the ex-wife’s behaviour that would have been likely to attract most criticism, if not frank outrage. There are still many societies in which the premises that Patrick appealed to in justification of his behaviour would find considerable resonance among established practice and even legal entitlements. Stalking is new, partly because of changes in our society’s understanding of the nature of the relationships between people.

Stalking as popular, legal and scientific discourses In the late 1980s the term stalking came to be used by the media to describe the behaviour of the unwanted followers of the famous. Initially it was the paparazzi to whom the label was applied, only later being attached to disordered fans (Nicol, 2006). It was then extended to include those who harassed ex-partners, co-workers, casual acquaintances and a whole range of fellow citizens. The intense media attention which stalking and stalkers attracted, and continues to attract, has generated a public consciousness and concern, which has found political expression in a series of anti-stalking laws. As discussed in Chapter 23, the first such law was enacted in California, with the other states in the Union clamouring to follow suit, the sole exception being Maine. Currently, most Western nations have either passed anti-stalking laws or are in the process of doing so. The legal definitions of stalking are often framed in response to local preoccupations, be it with protecting the famous, preventing the harassment of ex-partners or strengthening the laws against persistent nuisance. The emergence of what has amounted to a new category of criminal behaviour in its turn has generated interest amongst mental health professionals and behavioural scientists, particularly

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Chapter 1: Stalking: a problem behaviour

those working within the criminal justice area and forensic mental health services. Stalking has generated, almost simultaneously, (1) a legal discourse, particularly around how to define the offence of stalking, (2) a popular discourse, carried forward with no signs of flagging interest, not only in the media but through novels, films and television drama, and finally (3) a scientific discourse. The scientific discourse initially focused on the nature and motivations of stalkers, and on the impact on the victims. Today the focus is also on evaluating the risks presented by stalkers, together with an emerging interest in how best to manage stalkers and relieve the distress of their victims. This emergence of a new way of describing and talking about the world provides an opportunity to examine how these popular, legal and scientific discourses have developed and interacted, and in turn how they have created new categories of fear, crime and scientific study. The rapid acceptance of the word’s new connotations and purpose was in large part because the categories of stalking and stalker filled a need which, if not perceived previously, became obvious once coined and accepted. It defined an area of human behaviour that caused distress to others. The behaviour itself is not new, but once labelled it could in rapid succession be discussed, defined, prohibited and studied. In short, the coining of the word stalking and its establishment as a significant social problem allowed us to recognise and act upon a previously unregarded area of human activity. Stalking, like any form of complex human activity, can be the end point of a range of intentions and influences. Similarly, like many other forms of behaviour which cause distress to others, it lies towards the extreme end of a spectrum of activities ranging from the usually accepted and mundane to the terrifying and fortunately rare. One of the consequences of the identification and naming of stalking as a form of deviance has been to focus attention on which types of related behaviour are, in current society, acceptable, questionable or to be outlawed. The carving off of certain forms of activity, usually aimed at establishing or maintaining interpersonal contact, as not only unacceptable, but criminal and deviant, has occurred with scant discussion of boundary problems outside of law journals.

Little attempt has been made to reconcile the emerging ideas of what constitutes stalking with what in marginal cases amounts to a disjunction between the intentions and attitudes of those involved in establishing a relationship or negotiating an end to a relationship. The legal literature has focused extensively on legitimate versus criminal following and intrusion, as well as subjective versus objective definitions of offending. This has, however, been strictly within discussions of legal process and the framing of effective legislation. In part, the uncritical acceptance of stalking as a social evil has been because initially the actions so described were so obviously dangerous to the victim. Prominent among the first well-publicised cases of stalking were examples in which the victim was eventually murdered by the stalker. That many stalkers are at best a distressing nuisance and at worst dangerous is beyond dispute, but this still leaves unresolved the boundary issues. In, for example, an ex-partner, where is the line which divides the acceptable pursuit of reconciliation and the stalking of that erstwhile love? In the would-be suitor, how many phone calls denote enthusiasm, and how many stalking? In the dismissed worker, how many angry letters and enquiries constitute the legitimate pursuit of clarification and assertion of rights, and how many stalking? This book will attempt not only to describe unequivocally damaging stalking behaviours but also to examine the boundaries and continuities between stalking and related forms of human behaviour. Stalking is a problem because it evokes distress and even fear in the object of the unwanted attention. There are real grounds in some cases for victims to fear for their physical safety, and even for their lives. Equally, there are good reasons to suppose the disruptions produced by persistent stalking will have deleterious effects on the victim’s mental health. It should not be forgotten that the lives of the stalkers are also severely disrupted by their actions. At the root of much stalking lie such states as loneliness, the pain of loss, nostalgia and the longing for intimacy. This is not to excuse, or to argue for some equivalence of suffering, merely to state the obvious: in many cases of stalking both victim and perpetrator have everything to gain from resolution and an end to the behaviour. The successful management

The archaeology of stalking

of stalking, it will be argued in this book, requires that the stalker be exposed to an appropriate balance of therapeutic help and legal sanction. For some, such as the individual with erotomanic delusions, treatment is paramount. In the calculating and vengeful ex-partner, confrontation with the personal costs of continuing to stalk, in terms of legal consequences, can have a gratifyingly salutary influence. For most stalkers a mixture of external treatment and control is optimal. Victims, even if the burden of the stalking has been relieved, are often left sufficiently traumatised to be in need of considerable help. In those still being stalked, practical help and appropriate support may go some way to relieving the burden and speeding its removal. The question of how certain activities come to be identified as stalking has only occasionally been directly considered. As already emphasised, it is the victim who ultimately defines stalking, but what are the cues for recognising oneself as being stalked? Emerson et al. (1998) attempt to address this question by considering stalking as a social process. They base their analysis on a variety of accounts of individuals who had been followed and harassed. They argue that ‘stalking is keyed to a variety of hitches and disjunctures surrounding relational coming together and splitting apart’ (p. 295). What they describe as the ‘core dynamic’ is a one-sided attempt to create or sustain a close relationship. Central is the notion of one party being indifferent or opposed to the establishing or reestablishing of a relationship, with the other party eager for such an outcome. Many intimate relationships begin with the meeting of strangers. The encounter with another person who is either previously unknown or largely unregarded is a common but nonetheless charged event. This is particularly true when the context is one which promises the beginning of an important relationship. As we move from encountering someone to relating to that person we travel across a complex social and interpersonal minefield. Traversing the pitfalls which lie between encountering and relating is rarely straightforward. The opportunities are many, not just for failure but for producing unsolicited responses of anger or fear. Perceiving the other as intrusive and harassing, and oneself as stalked, can be a measure of the experienced

disjunction between the intentions and perceptions of the protagonist of the relationship and that of the unwilling object of those aspirations. When intimate relationships founder and fail one partner usually perceives (or even pursues) the termination before the other. Again this is fruitful ground for those disjunctions which make possible the self-definitions of being a stalking victim. In the quest for a new intimacy the initiator risks being defined as a stalker. In the dissolution of intimacy it is the initiator of the break-up who risks provoking a response in which they experience themselves as a stalking victim. In both situations the reactions of the target may play a part in provoking or sustaining the stalker’s intrusive behaviours. Each and every struggle towards, or away from, intimacy does not inevitably occur under the threat of the evocation of the label stalking. Any unlucky individual could find themselves accused of being a stalker by an oversensitive, overanxious or even self-serving target of their affections. In practice, however, most reasonable individuals give a fair degree of latitude to those whose advances they intend to resist or reject. Sometimes that generosity stems from guilt, sometimes from sympathy, occasionally from simple politeness, but it is usually offered. In most cases the pursuer needs to be possessed of a good dose of insensitivity and an overwhelming sense of entitlement to place themselves at risk of their behaviour being construed as stalking.

The archaeology of stalking The emergence of stalking as a term for a particularly egregious form of harassment has clarified and specified the possible perspectives from which repeated unwanted intrusions can properly be viewed. It has also constrained the extent to which similar behaviours can be presented in a positive light. One construction of courtly love was the unrequited love of the persistent suitor who merely admired from afar the unattainable perfections of the loved one (see Singer, 1987). The great Italian poets Petrarch (1304–74) and Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) both celebrated in

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their works lifelong devotions to women with whom they had had little or no actual contact. Dante writes of his love of Beatrice in La Vita Nuova (c. 1292). Though some have held Beatrice to be a symbol, she is usually identified with Beatrice Portinari. For Dante she is ‘an abstract, almost allegorical, embodiment of beauty, goodness and the other perfections’ (Singer, 1987, p. 156). T. S. Eliot (1930) regarded Dante as having a pathological obsession with Beatrice, with whom he has no real contact but whom he nevertheless uses as the focus and inspiration of his idealised love. Petrarch had a similar infatuation and idealised love for Laura (thought to be Laura de Noves, married 1325, died 1348, the mother of 11 children). It is not the reality of Beatrice or Laura but entirely their imagined properties which moves these poets. De Rougemont (1950) writes: ‘but here again the woman, whether absent or present, is never but the occasion for a torment he cherishes above all else’ (p. 178). Petrarch wrote of Laura, ‘I know to follow while I flee my fire: I freeze when present: absent my desire is hot’ (quoted in de Rougemont, 1950). We don’t know in what manner Dante pursued his Beatrice (though the Pre-Raphaelites portray him as furtively spying). It is not known whether Laura felt harassed by Petrarch’s 365 daily poems, assuming he sent them to their inspiration (number 366 was dedicated to the Virgin Mary). What is clear is that for their contemporaries, and for many generations to come, Dante and Petrarch were a subject not of scandal but of admiration. Western society at that period accepted as an ideal an autistic love constructed by a man out of projections and fantasies which took no account of the realities or feelings of the actual woman. To be fair to these renaissance lovers, it could be argued that they embodied one essential element of the process of romantic love. Scheler (1954, originally published 1912) says the joy of love comes primarily from the act of loving, not from the delights provided by the one loved. Love for Scheler is also a movement that tends to enhance value in the one loved. Thus Dante and Petrarch may well have accessed part of the joy of loving through their distant infatuations. Beatrice and Laura, in their relatively small society, may not have remained entirely ignorant of the great literary appreciation directed at them, and perhaps it is not pushing

extrapolation too far to imagine them gaining some greater sense of their own value and place in the world. Whatever the reality for those long-dead white men, they certainly point to a possible element in the intimacy-seeking stalker, that of indulging the joy of being in love. Søren Kierkegaard (1813–55), the Danish philosopher, theologian and founder member of the existential elite, wrote a curious collection of pieces published as Either/Or (1987, originally published 1843). The first volume, Either, is ostensibly written by ‘A’, a young self-styled aesthete, and includes the narrative The Seducer’s Diary. This is said to be the fictionalised account of Kierkegaard’s pursuit of a young woman, Regine Olsen, renamed Cordelia Wahl in the book. The pursuit consists of surreptitious following, spying upon her, gathering information about her and engineering repeated encounters in public places. Kierkegaard in the fictionalised account describes his (or A’s) first contact with the supposed beloved as follows: A figure appears, enveloped to the eyes in a cape. It is not possible to see where he is coming from … He passes by you just as you are entering the front door. At precisely the crucial moment a sidelong glance falls on its object. You blush; your bosom is too full to unburden itself in a single breath. There is indignation in your glance, a proud contempt. There is a plea, a tear in your eye, both are equally beautiful. I accept them both with equal right … I certainly shall meet her again sometime; I certainly shall recognise her, and she may recognise me – my sidelong glance is not forgotten so easily … I promise she will recall the situation. No impatience, no greediness – everything will be relished in slow draughts; she is selected, she will be overtaken. (pp. 314–15)

In the author’s mind a relationship is created in the moment of eye contact. It is for him an exchange: an exchange of vows, a moment of recognition and reciprocity. The ‘she may recognise me’ at some time in the future is rapidly superseded by ‘she will recall the situation’. The relationship is established, albeit autistically. His claim ‘she is selected, she will be overtaken’ takes no account of her; it is a statement of entitlement. The relationship established is for A one of worship and service: ‘my beautiful stranger … I am at your service in every way’ (p. 320). There is a recognition that at least in the first few weeks there is no real reciprocity, only

The archaeology of stalking

the hope and expectation of a favourable response: ‘in a certain sense my profits are meagre but then I do have the prospect of the grand prize’ (p. 326). The course of the following, manufactured contacts, and information gathering is documented in the form of a diary. He follows her ‘with the intention of passing by her and dropping behind her many times until I discovered where she lived’ (p. 333). He spies: ‘I will know who you are – why else do you think the police keep census records?’ (p. 327). He watches her house – ‘Today I learned something about the house into which she disappeared’ (p. 337) – and plans, for ‘if it is necessary for me to gain entrance to the house … I am prepared’ (p. 338). The behaviours appear to us to be those of stalking, although this is not how either Kierkegaard or his contemporaries would have constructed this story, even assuming the vocabulary existed for such a labelling. Even more interesting is the description of the internal world A creates for himself. First there is the fantasy of the loved one’s inevitable succumbing. Then he bestows on her characteristics, desires and intentions in a vacuum, for at this stage he knows only her appearance and the appearance of her house. She ‘lives in a world of fantasy’ (p. 341). He is convinced that ‘she is an isolated person’ (p. 339), that she is ‘proud’ (p. 342), she has ‘imagination, spirit, passion’ and even ‘maybe at particular moments she wishes that she were not a girl but a man’ (p. 343). It is difficult to avoid the suspicion that the beloved is being constructed, or reconstructed, in the image of the lover. A rich world is created out of glimpsed moments and stolen observations. The Seducer’s Diary seems a window into the world of one particular type of person we would now call a stalker. But is Kierkegaard’s account really that of stalking, and to what extent is it, as is often assumed, a true account of his initial pursuit of Regine Olsen? Regine Olsen did eventually have an actual relationship with Kierkegaard, though it didn’t last. She survived him, living until 1904 and becoming a celebrity on the basis of The Seducer’s Diary. Her later memories of Kierkegaard are not those of the stalker but of the man she eventually met and to whom for a time she was engaged. Kierkegaard remained preoccupied (even obsessed) with Regine for the rest of his life and

even in his last will and testament claimed ‘my estate is her [Regine’s] due exactly as if I had been married to her’ (Kierkegaard, 1996, p. 657). The extent to which The Seducer’s Diary accurately portrays the actions and mental life of Kierkegaard in his early pursuit of Regine Olsen must remain questionable. It could be more fictional than factual, it could conflate (or even transpose) other episodes of such stalking-like behaviour. Kierkegaard (1996) claimed that ‘The Seducer’s Diary was written for her sake, to help repulse her’ (p. 417). What it does unquestionably is to provide an insight into the thinking and behaviour of someone who we would now label a stalker. At the time, however, A could have legitimately, in the eyes of his culture and his contemporaries, styled himself a lover. We do not know the impact on the victim, who must, to some extent, have been aware of the undeclared observer. If this is an account of the stalking of Ms Olsen it is difficult to retrospectively view her as unduly disturbed, let alone traumatised, given that she later accepted his attentions and offer of marriage, and given that she accepted, in later life, the role of the eminent philosopher’s great love. We would speculate that the experience of being followed and spied upon would have been very different for Regine Olsen in the Copenhagen of the mid nineteenth century than it would be for a teenager (she was 16 or 17 years old) in London or New York at the beginning of the twentyfirst century. The man, though unknown, would not have been a stranger in the same sense, for his identity, if not already suspected, could easily be established in the relatively small community. His appearance would have defined him in terms of probable social class and role to a far greater extent than in today’s world. His behaviour would have had acceptable explanations in terms of the shy suitor, the gauche admirer or even the romantic stranger. The threatening and sinister were not imminent to anything like the same degree in the attentions of a stranger. John Updike (1997) describes Kierkegaard’s behaviour as revealed in The Seducer’s Diary as convoluted gallantry, though he does also describe it as stalking. Updike gives stalking a curious resonance, however, when he writes, ‘The hero’s long and loving stalking of a girl too young to approach provides, in fiction

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as in reality, the peak of erotic excitement’ (p. xiii). Kierkegaard’s alter ego A does not appear in The Seducer’s Diary to be desisting from direct contact because Cordelia is a schoolgirl, so the reader is left in some doubt as to whose reality it is that finds stalking young girls the peak of erotic excitement. That such people exist will become clear as this book progresses; that Kierkegaard was an example is, one can hope, a misinterpretation.

Conclusions Stalking is a problem behaviour which is characterised by repeated attempts to impose unwanted communications and/or contacts on another in a manner which could be expected to cause distress and/or fear in any reasonable person. The core features of stalking are often accompanied by other harassing

behaviours, including ordering or cancelling goods and services on the victim’s behalf, making vexatious complaints and perhaps most importantly threats and violence. Stalking usually emerges out of two broad contexts. The first is the attempt to establish, re-establish or impose a relationship on another who has either made clear their disinterest or has not even been consulted on the matter. The second is to retaliate for some perceived injustice. Stalking behaviours have been clearly described in the legal, psychiatric and fictional texts for generations. What is new is not the behaviour but the naming of this course of conduct and the initiation of popular, legal and scientific discourses about the nature of the behaviour, its effects, and how it can be remedied. This book sets out to illuminate those discourses, with an emphasis on the rapidly expanding empirical and theoretical literature on stalking.

2 Stalking as a social construction and social reality

Introduction Stalking as a word to describe the course of conduct involving imposing unwanted and potentially frightening communication and contacts has a relatively short history. It is possible to trace the expanding range of behaviours and contexts to which the term stalking has been applied. With the changing usage the term stalking has acquired a changing resonance. Not so long ago stalking was dismissed as a curiosity produced by celebrity and confined to the overheated culture of California. Now it confronts us as a social problem throughout the industrialised world. From a rare culturebound syndrome to a common criminal activity: the progress can be understood as the development of a new conceptualisation of pre-existing activities in which new meanings are attached to behaviours and events once viewed in isolation but now synthesised into a single entity. This process of social construction is to be understood primarily as the accumulation of attributions of meaning (Hacking, 1995, 1998). Developing a new way to understand the world is, however, only part of the story. Stalking is a social construction, but it is also a pattern of behaviour which emerges from the concrete lived experience of certain individuals in response to particular social and cultural contexts. To label a behaviour as stalking is a new way of talking about the world which has led to new ways of understanding and responding. What is now termed stalking could represent the exposure of previously obscured reality, or it could be useful fiction, like fugue states in their time and post-traumatic stress disorder in our time. If stalking were pure social construction

(assuming such could exist), what would be new would be the conceptualisation. If stalking were a pure discovery about reality, what would be new would be the behaviour, or at least the ability to recognise the behaviour for what it is. In our view it is both construction and the recognition of a specific form of behaviour.

The emergence of a social construction of stalking In an outstanding article Lowney and Best (1995) examined the emergence of the construction of stalking as a social problem. They examined media coverage between 1980 and 1994 in the form of newspapers, tapes of television and radio broadcasts and magazine articles, together with scholarly journals and court and congressional proceedings. The focus was on how and in what form claims about stalking were brought to public attention, and how this led to the construction of a new crime problem. They identified three phases, or periods, in the emergence of stalking as a widely recognised social problem. The first period described by Lowney and Best (1995) was from 1980 to 1988, when there were articles and discussions under such headings as psychological rape and obsessive following. The word stalking hardly ever appeared. The psychological rape and obsessive following which manifested in various forms of sexual harassment and intrusiveness were typified by the non-violent, but persistent, pursuit of a victim (usually, but not exclusively, female). The victims, though distressed and exposed by the limitations of the criminal

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justice system’s ability to protect them, were nevertheless often portrayed as at least partly complicit in their plight. Though the behaviours were accepted as problematic they were not ‘packaged and presented so as to command public attention’ (p. 39). The second phase, from 1989 to 1991, was, Lowney and Best (1995) argue, marked by the increasing use of the term stalker, usually in the form of star stalkers. These were men and women who persistently followed and harassed the famous. The murder of the actress Rebecca Schaeffer by a disordered fan, Robert Bardo, gave a dramatic focus to this new construction. Victims were now celebrities, and the perpetrators typically mentally disturbed and/or inappropriately obsessed with their victims. Stalking becomes a form of random violence for which the victim bears no responsibility. The behaviour of the stalker was now seen as the harbinger of violence, and often as the product of mental disorder. The new construction captured public attention, captured the attention and harnessed the energies of the media and entertainment industries, and finally captured both the attention and (self) interest of the law makers. The final construction articulated by Lowney and Best (1995) was the redefinition, in the period 1992–4, of stalking as a product of failed relationships and male violence. Stalking was reframed as a ‘women’s issue, a widespread precursor to serious violence … a common problem … a form of domestic violence against women’ (pp. 42–3). These authors illustrate how juxtaposing domestic violence and stalking could create new evidence. Thus a statement that 90% of women killed by their partners had previously called the police was equated with 90% having previously been stalked. This in turn generated the claim that nine women a day (in the USA) are killed by stalkers. Stalking had been reconstructed into a violent crime, usually committed against women by former or current husbands or lovers and also labelled by some as an ‘epidemic’ (e.g. Gilligan, 1992). The new construction virtually excluded psychological explanations, let alone psychiatric accounts, of the perpetrator’s motivations. Typifying examples of stalking, when not an extension of the battering of women, feature children and adolescents as victims. Such examples made the stalking child molester’s

responsibilities clear, and the essentially evil nature of the perpetrator manifest. Stalking’s emergence as a social issue and a new category of crime shares features with other similar categories which have come to prominence, including child sexual abuse, mugging and road rage (Scott, 1995; Fergusson & Mullen, 1999). Each in their different ways has acquired the status of social facts whose existence is no longer challenged. The process of constructing a social problem, for example child abuse, has been conceptualised as occurring in the four overlapping stages of discovery, diffusion, consolidation and reification (Parton, 1979; Scott, 1995).

Discovery The key question about the ‘discovery’ of stalking is why these particular forms of harassing behaviours were defined as a special problem at that particular historical moment, and why stalking suddenly gained such prominence. As has been emphasised, there was nothing new about behaving in the manner we now call stalking, nor in considering such behaviour a problem. What was new was increasingly regarding such behaviour as a problem separable from other forms of inappropriate intrusiveness and as having peculiarly sinister implications. The discovery of stalking does not reflect a single influence but the concatenation of a number of trends and concerns, many of which had remained inchoate before the concept and the very word stalking gave them a medium for expression. These included: 1. The last 30 years are marked by an increasing public concern about privacy and the capacity of others to monitor and pry into the lives of fellow citizens. These concerns were particularly acute for those in the public eye, who were more and more the object of the intrusions of gossip columnists, photographers (the paparazzi), investigative journalists and the multiplicity of TV and radio shows which claimed to expose or reveal the doings of the famous. For the famous, be they entertainers, politicians, sports people or royalty, nothing was now sacred. Every action, or rumour of action, was potentially grist for the exposure mill. Alongside the increasing availability of information about celebrities came

The emergence of a social construction of stalking

a different way of presenting celebrity. Magazines, radio and above all television attempted to create a sense of pseudo-intimacy between the audience and not just presenters and celebrities but even the fictional characters of sitcoms. This manufacture of a sense of connectedness succeeded all too well for some vulnerable and lonely souls. For ordinary citizens a similar dialectic was on the move. The combination of information technologies with institutional suspiciousness about fraud and deception, or just the benign hope of keeping track of the services and benefits customers were entitled to, has led to the accumulation of vast databases on each and every one of us. In Australia, for example, in theory it would be possible to trace your every contact with a medical practitioner, virtually every prescription you have taken to a chemist, your hospital and mental health records, a complete credit record, every contact with the police as victim or offender, your education record, your international travel record, and any benefits or government loans you have accessed, to say nothing of records kept by commercial organisations on your buying habits, your computer usage and your favoured internet sites. In the UK you could add miles of video footage of your walking the public streets. In the USA you could add phone conversations and covert surveillance, should you have raised political anxieties, plus drug screens at work and at play. To even enter the USA currently some 30 pieces of information are demanded, many of a patently private nature. In the modern world we are not just potentially naked but transparent, should those with authority, or the covert skills, wish to expose us. With so little real privacy, the appearance of privacy becomes all. Privacy legislation abounds. As clinicians and researchers we are effectively impeded from accessing information or sharing information which would benefit our patients and our science: the very same information that any minor functionary can access with ease, and which governments and companies claim to own. We are painfully aware that true privacy is dead, so we value the ghosts and appearances of privacy in its absence. As a result we tend to feel observed, intruded upon and vulnerable.

Not being able to influence corporations and government agencies, we become more sensitive to the intrusions of those like ourselves, who at least we can try to keep at a distance. 2. There has occurred over the last century or so a continuing change in how people experience themselves in relation to other members of their society. The emergence of large conurbations inevitably led to people living among those about whom they had no knowledge. As early as 1798 a Parisian police agent was complaining, ‘It is almost impossible to maintain good behaviour in a thickly populated area where an individual is, so to speak, unknown to all others and thus does not have to blush in front of anyone’ (quoted in Benjamin, 1968, p. 40). The stranger, in contrast to the foreigner, was of the same society, but was an unknown element within your own community. In literature, the stranger as potential threat and as the carrier of evil became an increasingly common theme. At the very moment in the 1980s when the word community was rising to ideological prominence, the reality for most of those in Western society was a dissolution and virtual disappearance of community. The bonds of common interest which linked individuals to those other individuals with whom they lived in some proximity were disappearing. Most of us no longer live among those of similar occupation and class. Few even live in the neighbourhoods into which they were born and raised. In urban life, neighbours were increasingly becoming strangers. The individuals’ interests were no longer experienced as linked to those among whom they lived. Our neighbours may even become sources not of mutual support but of irritation, intrusiveness and risk. Fear can become a central mediator between the individual and the stranger. In this climate the transformation of stranger into predator was readily accomplished. The fear of others is perhaps greatest in celebrities and politicians, whose role and identity depends on being the object of many people’s attention. Part of achieving prominence has become the acquisition of a need for protection. Whatever the real level of threat to the famous, the perception of risk spawned a specialist security industry with

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new technologies and new forms of expertise to assess risk, manage risk and protect. It would be difficult not to become increasingly sensitive to threats if surrounded by security experts who advise, and induce, the spending of large sums of money on protection from as yet undeclared dangers. 3. The roles of victim and perpetrator emerged towards the end of the twentieth century as central to the processes of government (Simon, 2007). Crime became the pre-eminent manner of understanding and managing social problems. In the USA the problems of African Americans were approached in the Kennedy/Johnson era as rooted in economic and above all educational inequality. Today school integration, Head Start programmes and positive discrimination in tertiary education are dead or dying. Racism is now a crime to be dealt with as a manifestation of an individual’s action. Child abuse was once understood as largely the manifestation of ignorance and deprivation. Today it is only as crime that it is understood by government. Drug and alcohol abuse became less and less problems reflecting social and psychological problems. Abuse became a criminal justice issue to be controlled through interdiction and confinement. Our prisons are now full of substance abusers receiving discipline with or without a semblance of therapy. Even such issues as industrial relations, poverty and immigration policy are in the process of resolving themselves into criminal justice issues. Stalking is a footnote to government through crime. Here failed relationships, social ineptitude, rudeness and interpersonal vindictiveness are being transformed into the simplification of a criminal offence. 4. The 1980s were marked by a perception that our society contained increasing numbers of strange people who might intrude and threaten. Public awareness, and wariness, of groups like the mentally ill, the addicted and the intellectually disabled were fed partly by the reality of increased numbers of such people in the community, but equally by constructions of such disorders and disabilities as predisposing to impulsive and aggressive conduct. 5. The changing roles of women are in our view the single most important factor in both the generation

and the recognition of stalking. Women’s greater ability to reject unwanted advances and choose to separate from unsatisfactory partners sets the scene for greater potential problems with unhappy males. In the workplace, women’s greater prominence, and even occasional seniority, can and does evoke resentment from more traditionally minded males. Attempts to redress past injustice by positive discrimination, or just unprecedented equity, also create anger in some men who lose out where previously they would have succeeded. Women’s unaccompanied presence in public leaves them both more approachable and for many more apprehensive of the unwanted or potentially dangerous approach. Women’s greater choice, increased freedoms and greater assertiveness all have their reverse side of potentially creating a greater wariness about safety, and evoking in some others more frequent disappointment and resentment. These and other social processes found expression in the notion of stalking. The murder of Rebecca Schaeffer provided the case around which the concerns with privacy, safety and the threat presented by the disordered crystallised in the form of the new issue of stalking. Those claiming that stalking should be recognised as a specific and serious crime were able to organise their advocacy around this dramatic example.

Diffusion The phase of diffusion of the awareness of stalking through the wider society was remarkably rapid. Given that stalking was initially viewed primarily as a threat to which media personalities were peculiarly vulnerable, it is not surprising that coverage was as extensive as it was effective. Equally, the combination of the famous, sinister pursuit, violence and in many cases disordered affection proved irresistible to the watching and reading public. Doubtless, experts expounding on exotic and potentially titillating subjects like erotomania and obsessional following added to the fascination. The ready acceptance of stalking as a social problem was accompanied by a dramatic widening of the concept. What began as a description of behaviour directed at the famous was rapidly generalised to include similar

The emergence of a social construction of stalking

behaviours directed at ordinary individuals. A social problem which was relatively uncommon, because it was circumscribed by the contingency of being a star, was transformed into an experience open to all. Nobody was safe, or at least, in the early stages of the genesis of stalking as a social problem, no woman or child was safe. The first and most important phase in the generalising of stalking occurred when well-established concerns about the harassment of women by their male partners were annexed to the emergent phenomenon of stalking. The bracketing of stalking with domestic violence was dramatically successful for those who had been advocating for more recognition and greater protection for battered women. The media fascination with stalking, together with the public and political acceptance of it as a serious form of criminal activity, was readily transferred to stalking as a form of domestic violence. For a period, the construction of stalking was almost completely colonised by legitimate, but previously discounted, attempts to extend legal protections to women harassed and pursued by current or previous partners. The first anti-stalking legislation in California reflected concerns with the stalking of the famous, though subsequent legislation increasingly gave primacy to the protection of women, with some antistalking statutes even confining stalking to the harassment of those who had previously either cohabited or had intimate relationships with their stalker (e.g. original legislation in West Virginia in the USA and New South Wales in Australia). Stalking made one of its earliest entries into the scholarly behavioural science literature firmly coupled with domestic violence (Kurt, 1995). The first community study to be published of the prevalence of stalking surveyed only women (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 1996). The US Department of Justice, which has played an important role in documenting stalking and supporting legislative responses in the USA, produced its reports under the title of Domestic Violence and Stalking and reported to Congress under the Violence Against Women Act. Despite this, to its credit, the research commissioned by the Department of Justice surveyed males as well as females. This research has been important in widening notions of who stalks and who is stalked (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998).

To understand how it was possible for stalking to be so successfully translated into an aspect of domestic violence, it is necessary to examine developments over the prior decade. The intimidation and battering of women by their male partners attained substantial prominence as a social problem in the 1970s and 1980s. The success of advocates for abused women in evoking appropriate social and legislative responses was, however, limited with regard to harassment that did not involve overt physical violence (Follingstad et al., 1990; Walker, 1993). In the early 1980s the media gave considerable attention to the following and harassing of women, after the revelation that Jodie Foster had been persistently pursued by John Hinckley, who later attempted to assassinate President Reagan. Though the media at this time tended to focus on the famous, it did generalise into the broader issue of the harassing of women by their male partners (Wilcox, 1982). Female harassment was the term usually employed for this phenomenon, though ‘psychological rape’ briefly had currency in the media (Jason et al., 1984; Lowney & Best, 1995). An interesting study by Jason and colleagues (1984) examined female harassment. They defined female harassment as ‘a male persistently using psychological or physical abuse in an attempt to begin or continue a dating relationship with a female who had indicated a desire to terminate the dating relationship’ (p. 261). Their study, further detailed in Chapter 4, amounts to arguably the first study of this form of stalking in a community sample. Female harassment did not continue to receive sufficient media coverage to establish its position on either the public or the political agenda. Further systematic studies also had to wait for the stimulus provided by the emergence of the stalking phenomena in 1989 and 1990. Though female harassment failed in the wider public arena to hold attention, it remained firmly on the agenda of activists and advocates. The women’s movement was only too aware of its frequency and its destructive potential. When stalking exploded onto the media as a hot issue, female harassment was a ready-made claimant for a share of the attention, a claim which was pushed home with considerable success by the domestic violence lobby. As part of this phase of diffusion, the emphasis on the stalker being mentally disordered or at the very least

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an obsessional follower was replaced by a characterisation of the stalker as a male who brutalised and potentially battered his female partner. Mental disorder was replaced by criminality, and the stalker became more strongly gendered. Stalking, conceptually and legislatively, has not remained so closely tied to domestic violence. It is not clear exactly which influences led to a further generalisation of stalking and a partial return to a concern with pursuit by disordered admirers. Certainly, when studies of stalkers began to appear they suggested a wider range of victims and perpetrators than could be accommodated within either the domestic violence paradigm or the notion of stalkers to the stars. Initial studies on victims also spoke to a wide range of relationships between stalker and victim (see Chapter 4). The media continued to give prominence to accounts of the stalking of men as well as women, and one of the outstanding journalistic accounts during this period was of the stalking of a male surgeon by a female journalist (Brenner, 1991). Perhaps what was most important in driving the increasingly broad conceptualisation of the relationship between stalkers and their victims was the practical experience of both courts and researchers. Beginning with the behaviour of persistent intrusions and unwanted communications rather than with causal theories (be that around domestic violence or obsessional following) reveals a far richer reality in the phenomena of stalking. Courts must first and foremost consider behaviour, not theories of causation. Behavioural scientists should likewise start with the behavioural phenomena, not with their pet theory about those phenomena. As this book hopefully will illustrate, if you begin with the behaviours which constitute stalking you uncover a varied and rich tapestry of intentions, motivations and forms of relatedness which frustrates attempts to restrict stalking and stalkers to any single context or any overarching theory of causation.

Consolidation The phase of consolidation of a new social problem occurs when a social agency or agencies come to be held responsible for responding to the perceived needs

created by this new social and political agenda. Stalking, once given life by the media, was rapidly transformed into a specific type of criminal offence. It was to the police and the courts that the responsibility of dealing with stalkers fell. Stalkers were initially regarded as drawn from the disturbed and the mentally disordered of the community. Despite the powerful impact of the subsequent absorption of forms of domestic violence into stalking, the notion that stalkers were at least in part a mental health problem persisted. The first organisational structure to emerge specifically to manage stalkers was the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) Threat Management Unit (Zona et al., 1993, 1998). This combined the skills of police, legal and mental health professionals in a system that aimed to manage, and where possible prevent, stalking. They employed a range of interventions, including those of mental health professionals. In our own mental health clinic the first initiative was directed at providing support to victims of stalking, but this soon led to a parallel concern with the assessment and management of perpetrators of stalking. This book is predicated on the assumption that the approaches and skills of mental health professionals and behavioural scientists are central to understanding and managing stalking.

Reification The final stage of the reification of a social problem involves the ossifying of the issue into something taken for granted as a natural area of concern by the general community (Scott, 1995). The question is no longer ‘What is stalking?’, ‘What brings it about?’ or even ‘How much of it is out there?’, but merely ‘Who should deal with it?’ and ‘Why haven’t they dealt with it?’ The issue becomes one for professional competencies and institutional technologies. The problem itself becomes an accepted part of the social landscape which may raise concerns but not curiosity. There are problems over the use of theories of social construction. In attempting to describe the way in which a phenomenon becomes an object of knowledge and a topic of concern within a particular culture, it is all too easy to appear to be overly sceptical or even mocking. Persistently inflicting repeated unwanted

The rejected

intrusions and communications on someone else is a totally unacceptable way of behaving, which, in our view, has rightly been made criminal in most Western jurisdictions. Such behaviour induces fear and can produce in the victim considerable psychological damage, extensively disrupting their functioning. It is a real social evil. It was a social evil before the word and the concept of stalking emerged. Stalking is nevertheless a construction. Neither the reality of the pain and distress which so often accompanies stalking, both for the victim and for the perpetrator, nor that stalking is a construction, should be in question.

Stalking as an emerging social reality Stalking is not a new behaviour, so why has it emerged to prominence at this particular moment in Western societies? The cynical answer would be that we as communities are becoming increasingly sensitive to annoyance, intolerant of risk, prone to experience ourselves as victims, and likely to feel entitled to demand protection from the forces of laws and order. But even if timidity and dependence are now making a major social problem out of one of yesterday’s irritations, it raises the question of why attitudes are changing and why the focus is on stalking rather than a host of other nasty behaviours. Our view is that stalking’s newformed profile is to no small degree a product of an actual increase in the frequency and severity of the behaviour (see Chapter 3 for discussion of the evidence). Societies are becoming more concerned for the very good reason that it has become a far greater problem. The question becomes not just one of changed attitudes and sensibilities but of what is driving the increased resort to stalking. Stalking behaviour can emerge from a variety of contexts and in response to various motivations. In Chapter 5 a typology will be described in detail of five groupings based on context and motivation. These are: 1. The rejected, whose stalking emerges in the context of the end of a close relationship and who initially stalks out of a desire for reconciliation or revenge (and not infrequently a fluctuating combination of both), but who may continue because the

opportunities for contact created by the stalking become a substitute for the lost relationship. 2. The intimacy seeker, who from a context of loneliness and lovelessness begins to pursue someone with whom they in fact have no relationship in the belief that intimacy either already exists or will inevitably develop. The stalking is sustained by unassailable hope and because better a fantasised love than no love at all. 3. The incompetent suitor, who, lacking a partner, attempts to make contact or pursue someone who attracts them in such an inept or unreasonably persistent manner as to create not the desired reciprocal interest but irritation, anger and eventually fear. 4. The resentful, whose stalking emerges in the context of perceiving themselves as a victim of injustice and/ or humiliation, motivated by the desire for retribution and sustained by the satisfaction of feeling, for once, powerful and in control. 5. The predatory, whose stalking in most instances emerges in the context of a sadistic sexuality and which initially is an information-gathering exercise preparatory to an assault but which may become extended because of the satisfactions of the voyeurism, anticipatory fantasies and sense of control. If stalking is fostered in specific social and cultural niches (to borrow a concept from Hacking), then if the context or niche becomes more common the behaviour might reasonably be expected to become more prevalent. The context in which the five types of stalking emerge may provide a clue to why the behaviour is on the increase.

The rejected Contemporary Western society is marked by far greater mobility, geographic, occupational and relational, than in most previous epochs. We live in societies where the norm of a lifelong monogamy (with or without adultery) has been replaced by a norm of serial monogamy (again with or without extra-relational liaisons). It is not just divorce and remarriage at issue but the moving in and out of sexual and emotional relationships which were marked by some semblance of commitment and

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Chapter 2: Stalking as a social construction and social reality

permanence, or at least the hope of such in the mind of one or other participant. Later marriage, later child bearing and more partners differentiate today’s heterosexual intimacy landscape from yesterday’s. In the gay world the beginnings of acceptance, not just tolerance, have brought more gay people out of the furtive and into the world of committed relationships, with all their fragilities. With more relationships come more separations. Each and every parting of the ways brings the risk that one of the parties will become enraged or refuse to accept that the relationship is over. This is particularly so in cases where one partner still entertains the now contested religious and ethical values which once sustained the notion of the permanence of marriage. In short, the conditions conducive to the stalking of the rejected are occurring more frequently. There is now an increased chance that those predisposed to such behaviour will find their vulnerabilities challenged, and more will attempt to resolve their distress through stalking.

The intimacy seeker The context of loneliness and longing for love from which the stalking of intimacy seeking emerges is probably no more common in today’s world. Interestingly, as far as we can tell, the cases of stalking-type behaviours which came before the courts and entered the pages of psychiatric texts in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries involved intimacy seeking (see Chapter 7). The earliest description of stalking behaviours in the psychiatric literature was in Esquirol’s (1965, originally published 1845) description of erotomania, which is the disorder associated with stalking of the intimacy-seeking type (see Chapter 8). This suggests that the intimacy-seeking stalker has been recognised as a distinct problem for longer than the other types. What has changed is that thanks to television, magazines and radio the lonely are exposed in their own homes both to images of the missing intimacy and to desirable and lovable celebrities offered for their admiration, often in the context of manufactured intimacy. Some of those who might once have lived their lonely lives able to ignore their deprivation

now have their noses rubbed in their isolation. Some of these may solve the problem by the fantasies and delusions of love, which can on occasion lead to stalking behaviours.

The incompetent suitor The stalking of the incompetent suitor is born out of a combination of a desire for a new relationship and a sense of entitlement to that connection. The approaches reflect the desire, and the unreasonable persistence and entitlement. To which can be added the ineptitude, which results in the disturbing nature of the approaches, and may have contributed to the pre-existing unpartnered state. Incompetent suitors are almost exclusively male, and the relationship they seek is usually sexual. There are reasons to believe unattached males are more abundant in today’s world. What is more important, however, is the changed manner of experiencing being without a sexual partner and the reasons likely to be adduced to explain this absence. Sexuality has become a core element in many people’s self-identity (Giddens, 1992). Sexual expression has become integral to personal realisation. Our culture places emphasis on the evoking and satisfaction of sexual desire. Sexiness is everywhere and for everyone. The awareness of being unpartnered is constantly brought home to the single, who, like all of us, are bombarded by libidinal images and the media representations of the carnal aspects of relationships. For most in the West, religion can no longer offer the comfort of effectively constructing a virtue out of sexual continence sufficient to ameliorate the unease at lost pleasure. One of the characteristics of modernity is the assumed supremacy of the individual, with their own rights to fulfilment and expression. Sexual satisfaction all too easily ceases to be serendipity or the product of a mutual engagement, and becomes an individual’s right, something they are entitled to have and to take. The stalking of incompetent suitors may be becoming more common not because the context of the lone male seeking a partner has altered but because of the increased sense of both urgency and entitlement attaching to sexual satisfaction. The welcome presence

The resentful

of women in public places, in work places and in entertainment venues may inadvertently contribute to increasing the behaviour, because it leaves them more vulnerable to unwelcome attentions. A final reason for the upsurge in men persistently pursuing those who attempt to reject or avoid their approaches may be the virtual disappearance of the social mechanisms which once virtually guaranteed partners for young men, however socially awkward and unattractive. Long after arranged marriages disappeared from Western societies, the culture continued to support various less formal ways of assisting the shy and ill-favoured into relationships. In extended families and interconnected communities even the least socially assertive would be included. Finding them partners would be a shared responsibility accepted by parents, imposed on sibs and cousins, and assisted by aunts and the parents’ peers. A relative scarcity of men when male babies still succumbed more frequently than females would have made no small contribution to pairing off the less prepossessing young man. A less cosy aspect of these increasingly defunct premodern cultures was the limited choices open to young women, and the limited acknowledgment of their right to choose, even within the restricted areas of action which remained to them. Finding a husband was effectively the only choice open to ordinary women, for whom employment other than domestic offered very limited opportunities. Presumably such dismal lack of alternatives added lustre to even very ordinary males. The low-status, inept or rude male is not likely to thrive so well in a world where women have, if not equality, at least a wider range of alternatives to becoming dependent on males, and can now consult their own preferences, not just those of necessity and parental authority. The males who from shyness, ineptitude or misfortune fail repeatedly to establish relationships may now be more numerous, as well as more likely to feel disadvantaged and unfairly deprived by their solitary state. There are many potential escapes from their distress, but one way to attempt to improve their situation is to become more persistent and assertive in their courting behaviours, which is fine until it spills over into stalking.

The resentful The resentful stalker emerges from a context where they have perceived themselves to have been a victim of injustice. That injustice may have taken such forms as being denied a merited benefit, like promotion or acknowledgment, or having inflicted on them unwarranted blame or abuse, or having had their rights ignored. The resentful stalker is typically driven by righteous indignation as they strike back at those who they believe have treated them unfairly. In the West today there are more agencies dedicated to handling complaints and resolving disputes than ever before. The ideological core of Western democracies is articulated in the language of individual rights, and the war cry with which they confront dissenting nations is human rights (Chandler, 2002). Never have the rights held such a pivotal role, nor procedural justice been accorded such importance. Taking rights seriously is a fundamental tenet of all our viable political parties, and being seen to be fair in safeguarding those rights is proclaimed as an imperative (the War on Terror allowing). In theory we live in societies where citizens are empowered to assert their rights and exercise their freedoms, and in which they are liberated from discrimination. In practice, however, not a few ordinary people experience themselves as none of these, but as marginalised, powerless and victimised. In most Western nations currently the emphasis is on the rights invested in the isolated individual rather than on civil rights which protect group membership and collective action. The protection of those rights is left to the individual operating within legislative frameworks and through complaints organisations and agencies of accountability, such as ombudsmen. Unfortunately the rhetoric of rights is creating in some unrealistic, or at least practically unrealisable, expectations (Mullen & Lester, 2006). Most may understand that the proclamation of such ideals as equal pay for equal work, equal opportunities, and an end to discriminations, are always going to be to some extent aspirational. They accept that the well-publicised cases where such rights are established in law are exemplars, not generally enforceable models to guide the management of all mundane irritations and conflicts. Similarly, as civil rights and

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Chapter 2: Stalking as a social construction and social reality

collective action give way to individual rights, so society becomes a complex of intersecting and potentially conflicting rights. The successful satisfaction of one person’s claims may create a sense of injustice in another claimant. I failed to gain the job because I was either a woman, black, gay, an ex-con, an immigrant, disabled, admitted a history of depression, or wasn’t any of these and fell victim to political correctness. For the self-absorbed and entitled who take their rights very seriously, everyday life has become a minefield. Victimisation is imminent in every frustration and every conflict. Taught by the culture’s media that it is all-important, they live in constant danger of becoming enraged by the failure of others to respect one or more of their multitudinous rights. Injustice created by failures to deliver on the multifaceted social contract constructed on individual rights is everywhere. And such injustice is not just a product of oversensitivity and self-absorption; it is a reality for many who are indeed stigmatised and discriminated against. Redress comes in theory from accessing one of the official mechanisms for helping individuals resolve disputes and assert their rights. In reality few have either the persistence or the confidence to even begin the conciliation/resolution process, and of those that do not a few find the process just adds to their grief. The fortunate majority are protected by friends and family who support their self-esteem, if not their rights, colleagues who sympathise, unions and professional bodies who advocate, and by common sense. The unfortunate isolates left unsupported and seething with anger occasionally resort to projects of retaliation, prominent among which is stalking.

The predatory Predatory stalkers are to be found among a range of sex offenders including serial rapists, child molesters, the more intrusive of the voyeur/exhibitionist group and certain scatological callers who target specific victims for repeated obscene phone calls and other forms of suggestive obscene communications. Femicide is not infrequently preceded by a period of stalking, though this seems to be most frequent in the context of

stalking ex-partners (Warren et al., 2008). The distinction between the predatory stalker and those such as rejected stalkers who go on eventually to attack and even kill their victim is that the project of violence initiates the stalking in the predatory, whereas it develops out of the stalking process in the other types. There is nothing new about rapists, child molesters and sexual pests in general, and the predatory stalker may well be no more prevalent today. Predatory stalking is almost always a preamble to a sexual attack of some form. The predatory stalker is usually a sadist in the sense that part of the gratification comes from the intrusive observations and the sense of power and control that arises from planning and fantasising about the attack whilst observing and being near the future victim. The brutal imposition of a perpetrator’s sexuality on a victim may be no more common, but sadism itself just might be fostered in our modern world. If we accept Medard Boss’s (1949) model of sadism as a response to anxious isolation, it is possible that sadism, and masochism, may be becoming more common. Boss suggests that those who experience themselves as both distanced from others and vulnerable to others create what amounts to a psychological carapace to protect themselves from intrusion and exposure. Such protective skills are common enough, but Boss suggests problems arise when the individual senses themselves as both cut off and unacceptable to others because of the protections they have built around themselves. The next stage is to see others as like oneself, isolated and invulnerable behind a protective shell. You confront each other from behind the protective screen, incapable of real contact let alone intimacy. The possibility of intimate contact requires a rending of the protective screen, or a furtive glancing behind what veils the other. Mutuality is impossible, only the tearing apart of the protective shell and the imposition of sexuality. Sexuality becomes about domination, rending, exposing and humiliating to overcome resistance. The sensitive and sensible resolve such damaging impulses through a sexual dramaturgy where performance and acted-out fantasy satisfy the urges of the ‘twisted nerve’ (Powys, 1967). The less imaginative and more brutal may seek satisfaction through predation and its associated stalking.

Conclusions

Conclusions The social construction of stalking began around instances which typically involved extensive and prolonged intrusions, and which culminated not infrequently in assaults that could on rare occasions be lethal. The incorporation of female harassment in the rubric of stalking widened the net but maintained a clear association with assault, battery and even murder. Stalking has now been greatly extended to encompass behaviours which, though distressing, are typically far less likely to involve either such extensive intrusions or such obvious risks of serious assault as did the earlier typifying cases. This extension has not to date been accompanied by an equivalent modification in the meanings and expectations attached to being stalked. As a result, a radical restructuring of our understanding of the social world may be occurring. A similar trajectory was followed when child sexual abuse, initially constructed around severely physically intrusive and often prolonged incestuous abuse, was broadened to incorporate a wide range of forms of the sexual molestation of children. The benefits of this process were the recognition of the true extent of the sexual exploitation of children and the emergence of a social consensus that such behaviour should be stopped and victims accorded appropriate protection (and in some societies treatment and monetary recompense). The downside was a widespread confusion about the nature, extent and effects of child sexual abuse in all its forms which impaired effective responses (Fergusson & Mullen, 1999). It also brought about a change in how victims understood themselves and their pasts which was certainly not without its problems. The attempt to

more accurately inform professionals and the public about the realities of stalkers and stalking is central to this book. We are at a relatively early stage in the development of stalking as a social issue and an area of scientific study, but already the need to confront growing myths and unexamined assumptions about stalkers and stalking is clear. Stalking in our view gained attention and social prominence because it is becoming increasingly common, not just because of the emergence of a new way of constructing and understanding this old behaviour. The increased prevalence of stalking reflects fundamental changes in modern society. ‘Star stalking’ thrives with a particular form of celebrity in which media access, with its revelations and pseudo-intimacies, creates the impression, and even the expectation, of a relationship between star and audience. The stalking which follows the failure of intimate relationships increases along with the frequency with which people enter, and more importantly in this context end, such relationships. The centrality of sexuality to self-image and modernity’s fetishising of individual entitlement feeds into intrusive, insensitive and unreasonable persistence in courting behaviours. Modern man, wrapped up in his individual rights, fed on expectations, is all too vulnerable to disappointed expectations which can on occasion breed the rancour and resentment that explodes in stalking. Perhaps more importantly, the changing role of women in the domestic, work and public spheres has created, particularly for the unregenerate male, challenges and temptations that some are ill-equipped to manage. This vision of stalking as some kind of judgement on modernism may be fanciful and overstated, but then perhaps stalking really is one of the disorders of our time.

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3 The epidemiology of stalking

Introduction The answer to the question ‘How common is stalking?’ depends both on how the behaviour is defined and on the methods employed to ascertain its frequency. The prevalence of stalking will differ if we confine the use of the term to the pursuit of the famous, the harassing of women, the obsessive following of others, or the specific patterns of repeatedly intrusive behaviour which occasion fear. The changing constructions throw up different typifying instances with different propositions about what constitutes stalking and what are its likely implications. As noted in the previous chapter, the stalking of Rebecca Schaeffer was the paradigm case of ‘star stalking’. The construction of stalking within a domestic violence paradigm offered equally frightening defining instances in, for example, the killing of Kristin Lardner by her ex-boyfriend (Lardner, 1995) and the extensively reported pursuit of Joy Silverman by her ex-lover, Chief Judge Sol Wachtler (Gross, 1994; Kurt, 1995). As the net represented by stalking widens to catch an ever larger range of behaviours and perpetrators, there has not always been an appropriate shift in the image conjured up by the label stalking. When the lifetime prevalence of stalking was reported to be between 8% and 12% for women in the USA (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998), the image conjured up for many was of vast numbers of women living in fear for their lives. These researchers were careful in their definitions and in the presentation of their data, and can in no way be held responsible for the ways in which their figures were utilised in the public arena. The problem is the familiar

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one that once a memorable image of a particular activity is established in the public mind it then becomes not a dramatic, attention-grabbing extreme example, but the defining instance. Whenever stalkers, or for that matter child molesters or muggers, are referred to, it conjures up an image drawn from the extreme and most damaging end of the spectrum encompassed by such descriptions. At the present stage of research into the epidemiology of stalking, research questions are couched in the form of the broadly defined category of stalking. Widely different activities are often grouped under the single rubric. The community studies which have been conducted are inevitably bracketed with the far larger number of case reports and series drawn from clinic or court samples. This reinforces the tendency to view the data as a function of the more extreme aspects of the stalking phenomena. Case studies and clinical series are usually drawn from samples of people whose stalking activities have been sufficiently outrageous to lead to their arrest, admission to hospital or at least referral to a mental health clinic. These are likely to be a different population from those who harass randomly selected community respondents endorsing such enquiries as ‘Have you ever been followed or spied upon, or have you ever been sent unsolicited letters?’ These were among the entirely appropriate screening questions from the study of Tjaden & Thoennes (1998), intended to capture a wide sample of the harassed. No equivalence should be automatically assumed between such community respondents considered to have been stalked and the victims described in clinic-based populations (e.g. Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Kamphuis & Emmelkamp, 2001).

Introduction

As research has developed, prevalence figures are increasingly being expressed in terms of more tightly defined types of stalking behaviours. Tjaden and Thoennes (1998) took an important step in this direction by quoting figures for victims defined both more and less stringently in terms of the level of fear induced by the stalking behaviour (equivalent in some cases to child sexual abuse being separated into contact and non-contact abuse). Similarly, with more recent community studies, we are also seeing more sophisticated analyses of stalking in terms of its constituent behavioural elements, its frequency, and its impact and associations, most particularly to other forms of violence. The epidemiology of stalking in practice is the epidemiology of the reporting of having been stalked. Epidemiology attempts to establish the prevalence of the phenomenon, what correlates with its occurrence and what are its consequences. Prevalence refers to the portion of the population who have the condition (or in this case, the experience) at a given time. The estimates of stalking will be affected by how stalking is defined. It will also be influenced by the way in which questions eliciting information about being stalked are framed. The selection of the sample to be surveyed can also have considerable influence, as can variability within and between such samples. If stalking is taken as two or more episodes of some form of harassing behaviour, the prevalence will be considerably higher than if the threshold is set at, say, 10 such incidents. If a criterion for a stalking event includes that it occasioned fear in the victim, this will reduce prevalence estimates compared with those obtained by including reports of having been subjected to the behaviours irrespective of their impact. Similarly, as will be seen in this chapter, the degree of fear required to qualify the stalking event also affects prevalence (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). At this stage in the epidemiological inquiries into stalking it is desirable that results be presented in a manner which allows the potential variables in the definition to be applied to the data. Thus, on the issue of how many events constitute stalking, data can be provided for populations reporting varying frequencies of harassment. Equally, the temporal constraints can be shifted if the results are presented with an analysis of the varying lengths of time involved in the stalking events.

The manner of framing enquiries will also influence ascertainment rates. Overarching questions such as ‘Have you ever been stalked?’ are likely to produce lower ascertainment rates than a series of specific questions about particular experiences. Thus, ‘Have you ever been subjected to unwanted telephone calls?’, ‘How often did these calls occur?’, ‘For how long did the calls continue?’, and finally ‘How much distress did they cause?’ A far richer and more flexible database is generated by using properly structured questions which constrain the respondent to detailing what happened, how often, over what period of time, and with what level of distress being generated. Sample selection can also have significant effects on estimates of prevalence. Using convenience samples such as students, or those from a particular occupation, will provide prevalence estimates that are difficult to generalise beyond the group from which the sample was drawn. Even more restricted in terms of generalisability will be samples drawn from clinics or attendees of health professionals, as the effects of being stalked may increase or decrease the chances of attending such services. Restricting sampling to women, or the young, or those from neighbourhoods with a particular class structure, can all profoundly influence prevalence estimates. A representative random community sample is the preferred sampling method likely to produce the most widely applicable prevalence estimates, although this design is not without its problems. The prevalence of stalking behaviours and the extent to which such behaviours are experienced by their target as fear-inducing will almost certainly vary between cultures, between communities and even within communities. The willingness to participate in surveys of stalking will differ, affecting response rates. Systematic errors in prevalence estimates will reflect the extent to which the willingness to participate in a survey of stalking experiences is directly influenced by whether or not the subject has been stalked. Those who have been stalked may be more eager to participate, or, conversely, may experience any enquiry as a re-victimisation they can well do without. In either case, response rates would directly reflect the experience of stalking and bias the resulting prevalence estimate.

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Chapter 3: The epidemiology of stalking

The bulk of information regarding the nature of stalking and the characteristics of both stalkers and their victims was initially derived from clinical studies conducted in forensic mental health settings. In recent years, several large, well-conducted epidemiological studies of stalking have been undertaken in the USA, the UK and Australia which provide invaluable evidence regarding the rates of stalking in the community, the behaviours involved and the characteristics of victims and their stalkers. Attempts to gauge the prevalence of stalking in continental European nations have also recently emerged. This chapter reviews the available literature on the extent and nature of stalking in community samples.

Early estimates of the prevalence of stalking Initial guesses at the prevalence of stalking suggested that each year in the USA, 200 000 stalkers were pursuing victims. It was further speculated that one in 20 women would at some time in her life experience the unwanted attentions of a stalker, though predictions regarding the scale of male victimisation were not proffered. These early estimates were tentatively advanced by a prominent US forensic psychiatrist, Dr Park Dietz, who properly qualified the figure as an educated guess. Subsequently, these figures took on a life of their own, being reiterated through popular and scholarly publications and being endorsed by the US government (National Institute of Justice, 1996). Dietz had in part extrapolated from a series of studies that examined threatening and inappropriate letters sent to Hollywood celebrities and members of the US Congress (Dietz et al., 1991a, 1991b). The authors of these letters all reportedly sent numerous missives to their targets, typically at least 10 but in some cases up to several hundred, their communications persisting for on average 12 months or more. Many of these letter writers undoubtedly shared similar motivations to those encountered in stalking populations (e.g. infatuation or resentment); nonetheless this group could by no means be regarded as representative of stalkers per se, given the highly selective population to whom

they directed their communications, and their unitary method of pursuit. Epidemiological studies subsequently demonstrated that inferring the prevalence of stalking solely on the basis of these early studies certainly underestimated the true extent of this phenomenon in the community.

The prevalence of stalking: results of community studies Australia The first epidemiological study of stalking was published in Australia in 1996. The Australian Bureau of Statistics conducted a national survey of women’s experiences of physical and sexual violence, part of which included novel questions related to stalking and harassment (ABS, 1996). A random, representative community sample of 6300 adult women were asked during confidential interviews whether they had ever been ‘stalked’ by a man. Stalking was defined as being followed or watched; having a man loiter outside the home, workplace or places of leisure; being telephoned or sent mail (including electronic mail); receiving offensive material; or experiencing property interference or damage. This definition was based on a composite of then Australian State anti-stalking laws (see Chapter 23), which broadly defined the criminal offence of stalking as two or more acts that the victim believed were undertaken with the intention to frighten or harm. Those respondents who acknowledged experiencing two or more stalking behaviours, or who had experienced the same unwanted behaviour on more than one occasion, were for the purposes of this study defined as victims of stalking. Based on this definition, the ABS survey found that 15% of women reported being stalked by a man at some time in their lives, which would imply that an estimated one million Australian women have experienced this type and level of stalking. Some 2.4% reported having been stalked in the 12 months prior to the survey. Those who reported stalking were drawn from the entire age spectrum, although young women aged 18–24 were the most likely group to have been pursued

The prevalence of stalking

in the previous 12 months. Contrary to the findings of case reports and non-random studies of stalking (see Chapter 4), most women reported being stalked by a stranger, as opposed to a prior intimate partner or acquaintance. The duration of the stalking experiences lasted less than a month for over 30% of subjects, with a quarter reportedly pursued for a period of between six months and two years, and 15% stalked for two or more years. Those pursued by strangers experienced the shortest duration of stalking (usually less than a month), in contrast to prior intimate partners, who typically reported being stalked for at least six months and not infrequently for over two years. Thus, while women were more often stalked by a stranger than by someone they knew, the duration of stalking was greatest when there had been a previous relationship with the perpetrator. The methods of harassment consisted mostly of unwanted telephone calls and the receipt of letters or cards. Being kept under surveillance and followed were also common experiences, but the incidence of loitering, property damage and the receipt of offensive material was reportedly low. Unfortunately the survey did not examine the frequency of threats to the victim, nor the rates of physical or sexual violence associated with the stalking. Many of the women who had been stalked in the 12 months prior to the survey said they were living in fear for their personal safety, irrespective of whether the stalking was continuing or had ceased. Over a third changed their social activities in response to the stalking, while others modified their shopping routines (16%), or arranged alternative child care or voluntary work arrangements (10%). One in 10 victims in paid employment reported having to take time off work as a consequence of the stalking. Surprisingly, though, the majority of women who were stalked (60%) indicated that their experience did not produce any safety fears. Furthermore, only 38% of victims notified the police of the unwanted contacts or communications. Unfortunately, the survey did not examine whether the impact of stalking was mediated by the duration of the pursuit, the methods used to stalk and intimidate, or the prior relationship to the perpetrator. Similarly, victims were not questioned as to whether their

reluctance to notify the police related to fear of inciting their stalker, concerns that they would not be believed, or a lack of appreciation of the criminal ramifications of such conduct (particularly as most anti-stalking laws in Australia had been in operation for less than a year at the time of the survey). The Australian Bureau of Statistics conducted a subsequent nationwide survey on personal safety in 2005, this time considering the stalking experiences of both females and males (ABS, 2005). The same definition of stalking used in the 1996 survey was employed here (i.e. more than one intrusion designed to frighten the recipient), although on this occasion without qualification regarding the gender of the perpetrator. The results indicated that, since the age of 15, 19% of women reported having experienced this level of stalking, compared to 9.1% of men. The 4% increase in the reported rates of stalking for women between the 1996 and 2005 surveys is perhaps not all that striking, considering that the 2005 figures also allow for samegender stalking. Consistent with the 1996 results, those aged 18–24 years reported the highest rates of stalking (both for males and females) and those aged over 55 years the lowest. Equal proportions of males and females claimed to have been stalked by a stranger (approximately 30%), but females were more likely than males to report having been stalked by a previous partner (20% vs. 11%), and were less likely than males to report victimisation by a relative or friend (28% vs. 39%). The modal duration of stalking was at least six months for both sexes (approximately 45%). The 2005 survey results indicated that males were significantly more likely to perceive the behaviour as ‘stalking’ when it was perpetrated by another man rather than by a woman (56% vs. 14%). No such gender difference was observed for female victims, with 45% overall considering the behaviour to constitute stalking. Interestingly, however, female victims were somewhat less likely to report the stalking to the police when the perpetrator was a male, compared to a female. The surveys conducted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics demonstrate that, broadly defined, stalking is not an uncommon experience, with 15–19% of Australian women and 9% of Australian men reporting some level of harassment. However, when interpreting

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Chapter 3: The epidemiology of stalking

these figures, it is critical to be mindful of the definition of stalking applied. In these studies, respondents qualified as victims of stalking if they had experienced as few as two unwanted contacts. Importantly, this definition of stalking was not contingent on the behaviours producing fear. On the basis of such criteria it is likely that essentially inadvertent, though perhaps unsettling, behaviours (e.g. following someone or standing outside their home) were redefined or reinterpreted by some respondents and/or interviewers as stalking. Thus, while the ABS data provide an indication of the proportion of individuals experiencing unwanted contacts that meet the broad definition of stalking, they fail to illustrate how many were subjected to episodes of stalking causing significant apprehension and distress.

United States The US National Institute of Justice commissioned a study to specifically examine the extent of stalking in the US population (Office of Justice Programs, 1997; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). Like the 1996 ABS survey, its primary purpose was to examine the prevalence and patterns of violence against women, particularly within the domestic context. Additionally, however, the study collected information related to stalking, including its frequency, the nature of the relationship between stalkers and their victims, and the psychosocial impact on victims. The design incorporated both male and female respondents. A representative random sample was generated and potential respondents were surveyed via telephone interviews until a sample of 8000 males and 8000 females was attained. The number of refusals and terminated interviews for women was reportedly 4961 (representing a response rate of 62%) and for men 8890 (representing a response rate of 48%), giving an overall participation rate of 52%. Unlike the ABS survey, the US study did not explicitly ask respondents whether they had ever been ‘stalked’, as this approach necessarily – and perhaps erroneously – assumes that respondents know to what ‘stalking’ refers. Instead, the study used a behavioural definition (derived from US state anti-stalking laws) that intentionally omitted the word ‘stalking’. Respondents were asked to indicate whether any person, male or female

(but not including debt collectors, telephone solicitors or other sales people), had ever followed or spied on them; sent them unsolicited letters or written correspondence; made unsolicited telephone calls; stood outside their home, school or workplace; showed up at the same places even though they had no business being there; left them unwanted items; tried to communicate with them against their will; vandalised their property or destroyed something they loved. A legal definition of stalking was again used, and the study therefore considered as possible victims all those respondents who had experienced such behaviours on two or more occasions. However, only those respondents who additionally acknowledged that the assailant’s behaviour rendered them significantly frightened or fearful of bodily harm were defined as stalking victims in the US study. The study found that 8% of women and 2% of men had experienced stalking at some time in their lives. The 12-month prevalence was 1% for women and 0.4% for men, a rate only half that reported in the ABS sample. The study also examined the prevalence of stalking on the basis of less stringent criteria, whereby respondents were required to feel only a little or somewhat frightened. Using this definition, the prevalence increased substantially, from 8% to 12% for women and from 2% to 4% for men, while the 12month prevalence jumped from 1% to 6% for women and from 0.4% to 1.5% for men. These figures more closely resembled the earlier Australian findings, indicating that setting a low standard of fear significantly boosts the reported rates of stalking. The US study confirmed that women were most likely to be victims of stalking, though men were by no means immune, accounting for 22% of all those having been stalked at some time in their lives. There were no differences in the prevalence of stalking among white and minority respondents of both sexes, although Native American and Alaskan women were found to be at greater risk of stalking than women from other minority ethnic backgrounds (the rates of fatal and non-fatal violence within these populations are also increased, however, suggesting that stalking may be one aspect of a broader pattern of violence in these indigenous communities: Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998).

The prevalence of stalking

The majority of US victims were aged between 18 and 29 years when the stalking first commenced. Indeed, stalkers in the USA showed a preference for young victims, with apparently few pursuing victims aged over 40 years. Female victims reported being stalked almost always by a male (94%). In contrast, males indicated that they were as likely to be harassed by men as by women. One-third of male victims reported pursuit by a current or former intimate partner (most cases involving heterosexual relationships), 34% by an acquaintance and 36% by a stranger. For the men who reported being stalked by a non-intimate, the perpetrator was in almost all instances a male. The researchers were at a loss to explain this unexpectedly high proportion of same-gender stalking, but speculated that this may be motivated by homosexual attraction, homophobia or even gang-related activities. We would argue that this high rate is more likely an artefact of the definition of stalking, as men are arguably more likely to acknowledge and report the experience of fear when the intruder is another male, as opposed to a female, who may be perceived (often erroneously) as less threatening (Purcell et al., 2001). Women claimed to be stalked most often by someone with whom they had a current or prior intimate relationship, be it a spouse, de-facto partner or casual date. The survey did not differentiate between stalkers who were current or former intimate partners, nor did it separate spouses from other types of romantic partners. This practice of treating what are disparate groups as a unified whole unfortunately obstructs the understanding of what may be significant differences in the prevalence, nature, impact and risks of violence associated with stalking in these distinct groups. Furthermore, the failure in this study to distinguish current from former intimate relationships confuses the phenomenon of stalking with the control and manipulation of spouses that occurs in the broader context of domestic violence. The study certainly demonstrated a strong association between domestic violence and stalking, with up to 80% of women who were stalked by a current or former partner reportedly having previously been assaulted by the perpetrator. Similarly, in 60% of cases involving intimate-partner stalking, the pursuit commenced before the relationship had ended. Nonetheless, as the

results of this study also demonstrate, the experience of stalking occurs in a variety of contexts, as well as in the context of diverse intentions, thus warranting its status as a separable phenomenon, rather than an annex of domestic violence (and see Chapter 5). The US survey examined the duration of stalking using an index of years, rather than weeks or months. Almost half were pursued for ‘less than a year’, with a quarter stalked for at least two years, and 10% for five years or more. In keeping with the ABS findings, the average duration of stalking was longer when the perpetrator was an intimate partner than a non-intimate. The methods of pursuit favoured by stalkers included following, unwanted telephone calls and letters, and surveillance. Women were significantly more likely to be spied upon and followed, and to receive unwanted telephone calls, than male victims, although threats, property damage, unsolicited materials and letters were directed equally to both sexes. Almost 50% of victims reported being threatened by their stalker, and a third experienced property damage. One in 10 stalkers reportedly killed or threatened to kill their victim’s pets, although curiously the incidence of physical violence against the victims themselves or third parties was not examined. Half the victims in the US study indicated having notified the police of their stalking. Those who chose not to report frequently claimed that ‘it was not a police matter’, that ‘the police couldn’t do anything’ and that they feared reprisal from the stalker. Equal proportions of men and women informed the police, though police intervention appeared to be heavily dependent on the gender of the complainant. Perhaps not surprisingly, the police were more likely to arrest or detain a male suspect accused of stalking a woman, and were also more likely to refer women than men to appropriate victim services. Less than a fifth of victims who reported their stalking to the police had their case prosecuted, and only 50% of these cases resulted in a conviction. The study found that women were more likely to obtain a restraining or protective order against their stalker than male victims (28% vs. 10%), which may reflect the greater incidence of intimate-partner stalking against women. The use of restraining orders, however, proved largely ineffective, with 70% of female and 80% of male

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victims reporting a violation. Of those victims who notified the police, only half approved of the police response and intervention. The remainder claimed to be dissatisfied that the police had not detained or arrested the stalker, that the complaint had not been taken seriously, or that the police had failed to offer them sufficient protection. Consistent with the 1996 ABS findings, the impact of stalking on victims in the US survey varied. A third of victims stated they were fearful that they would be stalked again by another perpetrator, and 20% took ‘additional precautions’ as a consequence of their experience. Victims reported enlisting the help of family and friends (18%), relocating (11%) or even going to the extreme of obtaining a gun as a protective measure (17%). A third of women and 20% of men sought counselling to deal with the experience, and 25% of victims reported losing time from work, usually up to 10 days, though 7% claimed they were unable to return to work at all. In keeping with the ABS results, however, a significant proportion of victims (50%) indicated that they were not concerned for their personal safety as a result of the stalking, nor did the majority (80%) acknowledge taking any extra precautions in response to the stalker’s conduct. However, the extent to which the methods and duration of pursuit, or the nature of the prior relationship with the perpetrator, mediated the victims’ responses to the stalking was again not considered. The study by Tjaden & Thoennes (1998) provided a comprehensive account of the prevalence and nature of stalking, particularly by its inclusion of male victims and female perpetrators. However the extent to which the reported prevalence rates are inflated by allowing instances of ‘stalking’ by current intimate partners is unfortunately obscured.

United Kingdom The Home Office conducted the first study to examine the extent and nature of stalking in England and Wales. The 1998 British Crime Survey (BCS) included for the first time questions pertaining to the experience of stalking. This followed the introduction of the Protection from Harassment Act in 1997. A random, representative

sample of 9988 adults aged 16–59 years were asked to complete a self-administered computerised screening module examining the experience of persistent and unwanted attention. An overall response rate of 76% for the section pertaining to stalking was reported (Budd & Mattinson, 2000). Unlike the earlier studies, which used specific behavioural probes to define stalking experiences, the BCS used a single gating question to ascertain whether subjects met the criteria for having been stalked. A preamble to the stalking module stated that ‘People may sometimes be pestered or harassed either by someone they know or a stranger. This person might do things like phoning or writing, following them or waiting outside their home/work place’ (Budd & Mattinson, 2000, p. 111). Respondents where asked whether they had ever been subjected to ‘persistent and unwanted attention’ from known individuals or strangers. Only those who endorsed this screening question were classed as stalking victims and further information regarding their experiences sought. The use of a single gating question was designed to ‘capture a wide range of experiences that could potentially be defined as stalking’ (Budd & Mattinson, 2000, p. 6). Importantly, the BCS did not require that the unwanted attention induce fear. The results indicated that 11.8% of adults had been subjected to persistent and unwanted attention since the age of 16. The lifetime rates were significantly higher for females (16.1%) than for males (6.8%). Some 2.9% of adults had been subjected to unwanted attention in the 12 months prior to the study. The annual prevalence of harassment did not differ when more stringent criteria requiring that the behaviour cause distress or upset were employed, with 2.6% of adults reporting this level of harassment. However, the requirement that the conduct involved fear of violence reduced the 12-month prevalence to 1.9%. The majority of those reporting persistent intrusiveness were female (73%). The BCS expanded upon previous studies by examining demographic risk factors associated with victimisation in the year prior to the study. Age and gender emerged as important predictors, with young women aged 16–19 years reporting the highest rates of unwanted attention (17%). Single

The prevalence of stalking

females were at greater risk than their married counterparts, and female students reported higher rates than other occupational groups. The prevalence of harassment was also elevated among respondents (particularly women) who had completed their A levels, who lived in low-income households and who rented their accommodation. The identification of demographic risk factors associated with stalking represents a step forward in this area, but the BCS results are limited in that many of the factors identified are likely to be highly confounded (e.g. it is reasonable to expect that many young women aged 16–19 would be single, and potentially students with a low income). Consistent with the US study, the majority of perpetrators in the BCS were male (81%). Female victims were usually harassed by a man (90%), in contrast to males, who were almost as likely to report being stalked by a woman (43%) as by a man (57%). The majority of victims were harassed by someone known to them, including current or former intimates in 29%, acquaintances in 32% (including 9% who were work-related contacts) and estranged friends or relatives in 6%. In 34% the perpetrator was a stranger. The nature of the prior relationship did not differ according to gender, although females were somewhat more prone to report being intruded upon by strangers. The duration of the unwanted attention varied from a short burst of harassment to often protracted periods of pursuit. In 16% of cases the intrusions abated within a week. Almost a quarter of victims were harassed for between one and three months, and 20% were pursued for a year or more. There were no differences in the duration of pursuit between males and females, though women stalked by intimate partners (current or former) were subject to longer periods of harassment than those pursued by non-intimates. The BCS enquired about the experience of 14 forms of unwanted attention, ranging from silent telephone calls (45%) and following (39%) to being touched or grabbed (34%) or physically intimidated (42%), which included the perpetrator ‘getting too close’. The most frequently reported behaviour, however, involved being ‘forced into talking to the offender’, with 49% of victims reporting this form of contact. The methods of harassment differed according to the victim’s gender,

with women more likely than men to report being forced to talk to their assailant (52% vs. 39%), being followed (43% vs. 30%), having the offender ‘refuse to take no for an answer’ (36% vs. 22%) and being physically intimidated (45% vs. 33%). In most instances the harassment was confined to one or two types of intrusiveness (30%), though 19% were subjected to four or five methods. Curiously, despite meeting the screening criteria for stalking, some 7% of subjects failed to endorse any of the methods of harassment about which the study enquired. The BCS paid greater attention than earlier studies to the rates of associated violence in the stalking situation. Threats of violence were reported by 30% of victims (32% of males, 27% of females), with almost one in five stating that ‘physical force’ had been used against them (24% of males, 19% of females). Nine per cent of women and 3% of men disclosed having been subjected to a sexual assault. The study did not analyse the relationship between prior threats and subsequent physical violence. Most victims in the UK study perceived the unwanted persistence to be motivated by a desire to initiate a relationship (22%), to upset or annoy the victim (16%) or to maintain a relationship (12%). Interestingly, only 33% of victims considered their experiences to be a crime. A further 37% regarded it as wrong, but not criminal, and a quarter felt that it was ‘something that just happens’ (a perception more common among males than females). Only a third of victims notified the police of the behaviour and 8% sought the assistance of health professionals. Nonetheless, most victims indicated being annoyed or irritated by the conduct (92%), and 74% stated they found the episode distressing or upsetting. A significant proportion of victims (particularly women) modified aspects of their lifestyle in response to the intrusions, including avoiding certain people or places (59%), restricting social outings (35%) and taking additional security precautions (42%). The purpose of the BCS was stated clearly at the outset: to capture a wide range of persistent and unwanted conduct. The desire to cast the net as widely as possible may reflect the legislative approach to stalking in the UK, where the Protection from Harassment Act broadly defines the offence in terms of conduct that ‘amounts

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to harassment’, or that causes the victim to ‘fear that violence will be used’, rather than specifying activities that constitute stalking. While many respondents recounted episodes of prolonged harassment, a significant proportion reported brief instances of unwelcome attention that abated within a week. The extent to which such behaviour represents genuine episodes of stalking, as opposed to minor (if not inadvertent) instances of intrusiveness cannot be established from the data. That the majority of ‘victims’ considered the behaviour to which they were subjected wrong or irritating, but not criminal, suggests the BCS captured a wide range of unwelcome phenomena, of which stalking was only one form. The British Crime Survey was repeated in 2001, involving a representative sample of 22 463 women and men aged 16–59 years who completed a computerised, self-administered questionnaire (Walby & Allen, 2004). Unfortunately the definition of stalking differed substantially from that of the 1998 survey, being defined as ‘a course of conduct involving two or more events of harassment causing fear, alarm or distress, of three types: phone calls or letters; loitering outside home or work; damaged property’ (p. 4). The decision to limit stalking to only three methods of harassment is curious (and unexplained), particularly since the 1998 survey referred more broadly to ‘persistent and unwanted attention’. Based on this definition, 8% of women and 6% of men reported being stalked in the 12 months prior to the survey, with lifetime rates of 19% and 12% respectively. Despite the more stringent definition, the lifetime rates of stalking actually doubled for men in comparison to the 1998 survey (up from 6.8%), with a comparatively minor increase for females (up from 16%).

Germany Dressing and colleagues (2005) published the first community-based study of stalking conducted in continental Europe. The authors sent a postal survey to a random sample of 1000 men and 1000 women aged 18–65 years selected from the resident register in the German city of Mannheim (population approximately 330 000). The questionnaire contained a list of 18

harassing behaviours (e.g. unwanted letters, emails, faxes or telephone calls, following, loitering nearby, invading the victim’s home, property damage). Respondents who indicated experiencing any of these intrusions completed additional questions regarding the nature and context of the behaviour. The authors defined stalking as multiple episodes of harassment occurring over a period of at least two weeks, which involved more than one form of intrusiveness and which provoked fear. A total of 679 people responded (400 women, 279 men), representing a response rate of 34%. There was a gender bias among respondents in favour of females (59% vs. 41%), but they were otherwise representative of the resident register in terms of their age (mean = 42.5 years, SD = 13.3) and educational status. In total, 12% of respondents (n = 78) reported an episode of repeated harassment in their lifetime. For 14% of these the harassment was continuing, which amounted to a point prevalence rate of 1.6%. The majority of victims were women (87%) and most perpetrators were male (86%). Nearly all of the female victims (91%) were stalked by a man, whereas males were as frequently harassed by another male (44%) as by a female. The duration of harassment ranged from less than one month in 17%, to a year or longer in 24%. In 76% of cases the stalker was known to the victim, being a prior intimate partner in 32%, a friend or acquaintance in 20%, a work colleague in 9%, and a family member in 4%. The victims perceived the stalking to be motivated by a desire for a loving relationship (35%), the resumption of a former relationship (30%), jealousy, envy or distrust (32%), revenge (27%) and rejection (24%). On average, victims were subjected to five different forms of harassment, most commonly unwanted telephone calls (78%), loitering (63%) and unwanted letters, emails or faxes (50%). Other common forms of harassment involved following (38%), using a third party to approach the victim (36%), standing at the front door (33%), silently hanging around (24%), pursuing by car (19%), invading the home (15%) and placing orders under the victim’s name (10%). Physical violence was reported by 31% of victims, including physical restraint (24%), beating (12%) and hitting with objects (9%). Sexual harassment was reported by 42%, and 19% reported sexual assaults.

When does intrusiveness become persistent stalking?

As a consequence of the stalking, most victims (73%) reported making lifestyle changes. Some 20% reported their victimisation to the police and 12% sought help from a lawyer. The authors also examined the association between stalking victimisation and mental health impacts, which are summarised in Chapter 4. The study by Dressing et al. (2005) is important as the first empirical study of stalking in Europe, as it essentially provides ‘proof of concept’ of this crime, which is yet to be recognised in law by most European nations (see Chapter 23). While the low response rate impedes the generalisability of the results, the findings are nonetheless strikingly consistent with the community studies conducted in English-speaking countries, indicating that the prevalence, nature and contexts of stalking differ little in industrialised Western nations at least.

When does intrusiveness become persistent stalking? The critical two-week threshold The community studies reviewed provide a broad indication of the extent of harassment in the community, but there are limitations. For example, the first ABS study considered only the victimisation of women by men, while the BCS did not require that the behaviour cause fear. With the exception of the recent German study, each survey included harassment by current, and as well former intimate partners, potentially contaminating the prevalence rates with episodes of domestic violence, and failed to impose any time constraints on the duration of the conduct, thus combining intrusions which occurred over the course of minutes or hours (e.g. prank telephone calls) along with instances of persistent stalking over months or years. Such an approach obscures the prevalence of more severe episodes of stalking, which are exactly the incidents so damaging to the victim’s wellbeing and functioning. Purcell and colleagues (2002, 2004a) sought to clarify the prevalence and nature of stalking, by considering both conduct meeting broad legal definitions and more protracted and damaging episodes of stalking. The relationship between stalking and other forms of violence was also examined, along with factors which mediate the type and duration of stalking. Unlike previous

studies, which used telephone and/or home-based interviews, surveys were mailed to a random, representative sample of adults drawn from the electoral roll in the State of Victoria in Australia (population 4.7 million), to examine the experience of stalking victimisation. Entry age to the electoral rolls in Australia is 18 years and the rolls cover over 96% of the population, as both registration to vote and voting are compulsory. A postal survey was considered a more appropriate method to maximise access to potential victims, as clinical studies suggest that a significant proportion of stalking victims, in response to their harassment, screen or avoid incoming telephone calls or unannounced visitors (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Hall, 1998). Consistent with the approach of Tjaden and Thoennes (1998), the word stalking was not used in our survey, to avoid preconceptions associated with the term. A behavioural definition of harassment was employed, with respondents asked whether ‘any person, male or female, has ever: (a) followed you, (b) spied on you or kept you under surveillance, (c) loitered around your home, workplace or some other place you frequent, (d) made unwanted approaches to you, (e) made unwanted telephone calls to you, (f) sent you unwanted letters, faxes or emails, (g) sent you offensive material, (h) ordered things on your behalf that you did not want, or (i) interfered with your property’. Respondents who endorsed any of the behaviours were asked to indicate the frequency with which it occurred (once, twice, 3–9 times, 10 or more times) and whether the conduct produced fear. In keeping with legal definitions of stalking, respondents who acknowledged two or more intrusions which caused them fear were broadly classed as stalking victims. Respondents who endorsed the experience of any harassing intrusions completed questions regarding the nature of the behaviour and their responses to the conduct. Subjects were asked to indicate the duration of the intrusiveness, the nature of the prior relationship, if any, with the perpetrator (importantly, current intimate partners were not included as a response category) and whether threats or assaults accompanied the harassment. Of 3700 surveys distributed, 1844 were returned completed (61% response rate for data for analysis). Of the

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1844 respondents, 23% (432) experienced unwanted intrusions sufficient to meet the legal criteria for stalking, the behaviour being both repeated and fearprovoking. For 10% the stalking involved multiple intrusions (10 or more) which spanned a period of at least one month’s duration, with 3% exposed to this level of stalking in the previous 12 months. Female respondents (17%) were more likely than males (7%) to report having been stalked in their lifetime, though the annual prevalence did not differ significantly according to gender. The experience of having been stalked was significantly more common among younger than older respondents, which is consistent with the results of the 1998 British Crime Survey (Budd & Mattinson, 2000). Both the lifetime and annual prevalence of stalking for those aged under 30 years was double that of respondents aged 56 years or more. There may be several explanations for these results. Stalking may essentially be an experience of younger people. If so, it could be expected that older respondents may have difficulty recalling incidents which occurred many years prior. However, the incidence of more prolonged episodes of harassment which are unlikely to be forgotten (i.e. greater than one month’s duration) also showed a similar age differential, suggesting that recall difficulties alone cannot account for this result. A second explanation may involve greater awareness among younger respondents of stalking as an emergent social problem. For example, Tjaden and colleagues (2000) reported that older women whose experiences met the legal criteria for stalking were less likely than their younger counterparts to actually label themselves as stalking victims. The authors speculated that as stalking has only recently been recognised as a distinct crime, older men and women may be less familiar with the terminology and consequently less likely to acknowledge themselves as victims of this conduct. However, care was taken in this and previous studies to avoid the use of the word stalking, in order to circumvent any such confusion associated with this term. In our view the higher rates of stalking among younger respondents probably reflects a real increase in this behaviour over the last 20–30 years, reflecting the various influences discussed in Chapter 2.

Consistent with all previous studies, the majority of respondents meeting the legal criteria for stalking were female (75%), and most were pursued by a male (84%). Overall, 24% of victims were harassed by someone of the same gender, although males were again overwhelmingly more likely to report same-gender stalking (76%) than females (8%). The duration of harassment ranged from one day to 40 years (mean = 7.8 months). For over half the cases (54%) the harassment lasted one month or less, with 22% pursued for between one and six months and 13% for a year or more. This variability in the duration of stalking prompted consideration of whether a discrete disjunction exists between brief, self-limiting instances of intrusiveness and the type of tenacious stalking which places the victim at risk of psychological and physical damage. We used receiver operating characteristic (ROC) curves to determine the discriminating ability of cut-offs in the duration of the harassment. ROC curves were produced until the ‘best fit’ was statistically determined (see Purcell et al., 2004a). The results indicated that two weeks was the most sensitive indicator by which to potentially distinguish groups in terms of the severity of their harassing experiences. This cut-off was then used to examine whether it clearly distinguished stalking behaviours which placed victims at risk of psychological and social impairment, from those behaviours whose victims, though distressed at the time, were not likely to suffer significant alteration to their daily functioning.

The impact of the two-week threshold on the severity of stalking For the 45% of victims whose harassment abated within two weeks, the median duration of intrusions was two days, with a modal duration of one day. The median number of intrusions reported by this group was five (range 2–40). For the 55% subjected to intrusions which exceeded two weeks, there was a risk of the behaviour continuing for a considerable period. The median duration of harassment in this group

Two weeks as the critical window for recognition and intervention

jumped to six months, with the modal length being 12 months. The frequency of intrusions was also significantly higher among victims in this group, the median being 20 intrusions (range 8–85).

Prior relationship The nature of the prior relationship between victim and perpetrator differed according to whether the experience involved a brief burst of harassment or persisted beyond the two-week threshold. Those harassed for two weeks or less overwhelmingly reported intrusions by strangers (75%). In contrast, victims pursued beyond two weeks were most likely to be harassed by someone previously known to them (82%), including former intimates (21%), casual acquaintances (30%), individuals encountered in a work context (22%) and estranged family or friends (8%). Seventeen per cent of those subject to harassment for more than two weeks were pursued for an extended duration by a stranger.

Stalking behaviours Differences in the methods of intrusiveness also emerged according to the duration of harassment, with those pursued beyond two weeks at greater risk of being kept under surveillance, loitered upon, repeatedly telephoned and contacted via letters, faxes or email. This group also experienced on average more forms of intimidation (median = 3, range 1–9) than those whose harassment ceased within two weeks (median = 2, range 1–6). The frequency of explicit threats, physical assaults and property damage against victims was significantly elevated among those subjected to protracted stalking. Third parties, such as relatives, intimate partners and friends of the primary victim, were also more likely to be exposed to threats and violence when the harassment extended beyond two weeks.

Lifestyle changes and emotional wellbeing The two-week threshold was also significantly associated with the mental health impacts reported by victims. This is examined in detail in Chapter 4.

Two weeks as the critical window for recognition and intervention Stalking is not a homogeneous behaviour. The behaviours associated with stalking overlap with other experiences which, however unwelcome and unsettling, are nonetheless relatively commonplace. Despite this, there has been little debate outside the legal literature as to what constitutes stalking or how this behaviour should be defined. This is crucial, as clinicians require definitions that carve off the more obvious forms of stalking from the universe of related phenomena. The results of the study by Purcell et al. (2004a) suggest that there is considerable heuristic value in distinguishing between two types of intrusiveness, each associated with different impacts on victims’ functioning. The watershed between the lesser and more damaging forms of behaviour is the continuation of the intrusions beyond two weeks. Imposed contacts that persist beyond this threshold are likely to continue for months, and to be associated with greater upheaval in the victim’s lifestyle and psychological functioning. As the epidemiological studies in this chapter attest, stalking victims frequently endure months (if not years) of pursuit before seeking assistance. Many, not unreasonably, hope that the behaviour will abate without the necessity of intervention, which victims often fear, lest it provokes an even more hostile response from the perpetrator. In practice, however, the longer stalking behaviours are imposed, the more ingrained the behaviour usually becomes. Critical to the likely success of any strategies to end the stalking is that these be instituted at the earliest opportunity, before the perpetrator makes a substantial emotional investment in their pursuit. Two weeks is long enough to demonstrate that the perpetrator’s behaviour is purposeful, but not so long as to allow the stalker to become overly involved in his or her quest. The two-week distinction is critical, we believe, because it enables victims, and the professionals they consult, to recognise at the earliest stage the relative seriousness of the situation, providing an opportunity for early intervention both to end the conduct and to avert serious psychosocial harm (see Chapter 20 for a discussion of the two-week threshold in assessing and managing risk).

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Conclusions Epidemiological studies indicate that stalking is a prevalent form of victimisation, with 8% of women and 2% of men conservatively estimated to experience stalking at some time. Men are the primary perpetrators of stalking behaviours, although a significant minority are

also likely to experience victimisation, at the hands of both women and other males. While stalking is characterised by repetition and persistence, two weeks appears to be a critical threshold between self-limited intrusiveness that abates within days, and protracted stalking, which is far more likely to compromise the victim’s personal safety and psychosocial functioning.

4 The victims of stalkers

Introduction The victims of stalking are central to our understanding of the stalking phenomenon. Stalking has been criminalised because of its impact upon its victims. Our understanding of stalking behaviours has evolved from the study of the people they target. Victim responses are integral to the management and resolution of stalking. Much of our knowledge of stalking victims was initially gleaned from media reports of celebrities and other public figures who had fallen prey to crazed fans or resentful constituents (Dietz et al., 1991a,1991b de Becker, 1997), and it was generally thought that such activities rarely involved ordinary citizens. As efforts to understand and ameliorate stalking behaviours gathered momentum in the 1990s, researchers and legislators increasingly turned to stalking victims as a source of data that is not necessarily reflected in official records or in studies of perpetrators (Hall, 1998). As a consequence of systematic enquiry into victims’ experiences, many of our earlier notions about stalkers and those they target have been revised. There is ample evidence in Chapter 3 that victims of stalking do exist in the wider community and are not a rarity, with some authorities believing that this crime has already reached epidemic proportions. Nor can any citizen claim immunity from a stalker’s unwanted attentions by virtue of gender, age, socioeconomic status, occupation or cultural background, though there is little doubt that some, like public figures and health practitioners, are at greater risk than others.

Until the surge of stalking awareness that culminated in widespread anti-stalking legislation in the 1990s, we were largely ignorant of the magnitude of this societal menace. We had little appreciation of the impact of trauma of this nature upon those unlucky enough to become the object of a stalker’s fixation, and our sympathies and any therapeutic efforts were more likely to be directed at those who sustained tangible physical injuries, because it was assumed that these were the cases who suffered the most disruption and emotional damage. Because we understood little of stalking itself, we were poorly equipped to offer its victims constructive interventions, any more than we were able to prevent our patients, loved ones and indeed ourselves from ever falling victim to such behaviours. This chapter profiles the victims of stalkers and describes the various contexts in which stalkers choose their victims. It presents a typology of victims based on the status of the prior relationship, if any, between victim and stalker, and the context in which the stalking arises. The chapter will conclude with a discussion of the impact of stalking upon its victims.

Victim studies Selective samples In what is probably the earliest empirical study of stalking victims, Jason and others (1984) surveyed females who had been harassed by males after ending a relationship or refusing to enter into one. The researchers interviewed 50 women from Chicago, all of whom had

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been subject to harassment which persisted for at least one month and included repeated telephone calls (92%), unwanted approaches at work or at home (48%), following and surveillance (26%), unwanted letters and other unsolicited material (24%), and threats and physical attacks (30%). Sixty-nine per cent of the sample had dated their harasser on less than 10 occasions and 14% had never dated him. While 42% claimed nothing unusual occurred during the period they dated, 24% indicated that their boyfriend was becoming too serious, discussing marriage and the like, 20% noted strange behaviours and 14% were reportedly subjected to physical or verbal abuse. Upon ending the relationship or refusing to date a would-be lover, harassment was experienced for on average 13 months (range 1–120 months), with 26% of the sample experiencing ongoing harassment. In this survey, the majority of subjects perceived the man’s behaviour as threatening and disturbing. A third experienced fear, anxiety or depression. Physical ailments such as abdominal pain, eating disorders and nervous tics were reported by 18% of the cohort, and 16% experienced a loss of trust in others. Over half the subjects talked to a friend, family member or therapist, 34% took legal action and 10% made ‘environmental changes’, such as moving address or changing their phone number. Eight per cent said they became ‘mean or distant’. Interestingly, as many as 48% claimed no psychological or physical problems as a consequence of their harassment, and a third of cases did not make any adjustments to their lifestyle, nor did they acknowledge seeking the help of a friend or professional. This study was conducted prior to the introduction of the term ‘stalking’ and at a time when there was a limited awareness of the phenomenon. The public interest surrounding the ‘harassment’ of actress Jodie Foster by John Hinckley was in fact a catalyst for the research. Nonetheless, the methods of harassment and their reported impact were similar in nature to those described in the stalking studies that emerged a decade later. The lower incidence of disorder and disruption which is apparent in this group of victims compared to those in subsequent studies may reflect a relative lack of awareness, in this pre ‘stalking’ era, of the potential seriousness of the phenomenon (‘ignorance is bliss’)

or a greater tendency to consider the victim’s experience as acceptable, or it may be due to the size and selective nature of the sample, or to a less severe pattern of harassment. A notable study from the University of Toronto (Jones, 1996) examined the nature of stalking by drawing on victims’ reports to police of ‘criminal harassment’ (the offence used to prosecute stalking in Canada) during the period 1994–5. The study analysed data from the Uniform Crime Reporting Survey, an annual review that encompassed 130 police departments throughout Canada, accounting for some 43% of the volume of reported crime nationally. During the study period 7472 victims reported incidents of stalking and harassment to the police. The majority of these victims (80%) were women. The victims’ demographic characteristics were not examined, the research instead focusing on the nature of the prior relationship with the stalker and the outcome of reporting stalking to the police. Most victims were pursued by an ex-spouse (33%) or, in 14% of cases, someone with whom they had had an intimate relationship. In 28% of cases the stalker had been a casual acquaintance. Five per cent of victims said they had been stalked by a family member (other than a spouse), 5% by a workmate or business associate, and 8% by a stranger. A current spouse was the perpetrator in 2% of cases, while 4% were unable to identify who was harassing them. Women were more likely to be pursued by a former intimate partner (56%), in contrast to men, who were typically stalked by a casual acquaintance (46%) or someone known through a work or business relationship (11%). The proportion of victims stalked by a stranger or a family member was similar for both men and women. In this Canadian study one in four stalking incidents known to the police involved associated behaviours not contained within the Criminal Harassment Code, including the utterance of threats, assault, breach of probation or bail, and breaking and entering. Few victims reported being physically assaulted by the stalker, though many claimed to have suffered severe emotional trauma as a result of their pursuit and harassment, particularly when the stalking occurred at the victim’s home (where indeed the majority of stalking

Victim studies

incidents took place.) One should be cautious in interpreting this apparently low level of associated physical violence, given that, at the time, assault was an offence carrying a substantially heavier penalty and the lesser offence of harassment may in some instances have been absorbed into the more serious charge. In 20% of the cases reported to the police, no charges were laid due to reluctance on the victim’s part to pursue such a course. This reluctance was most commonly encountered in cases where the victim knew the perpetrator through a business relationship, or when a man was being pursued by an ex-wife. In contrast, women stalked by a former intimate were more likely to proceed with criminal justice intervention. These findings indicate that stalking is not infrequently brought to the attention of law enforcers, with over 7000 people reporting crimes of this nature in two years. Males were found to be the primary perpetrators of stalking, though they were also at risk of victimisation, accounting for 20% of self-referred victims. The majority of victims were stalked by an ex-intimate partner or a casual acquaintance, though the study well characterised the variation that exists in the prior relationship between stalkers and their targets. While most cases proceeded to prosecution of the perpetrator (the exceptions being those cases in which the victim was reluctant to pursue such a course), the outcome in most instances was probation rather than incarceration. Hall (1998) recruited 145 stalking victims through press releases and media interviews which promoted the research in six major urban centres in the USA. In addition, flyers were distributed in several target regions to major victim centres, such as domestic violence and sexual abuse clinics. The author acknowledged that this selection process resulted in a nonrandom and skewed sample of self-defined victims, all of whom were willing to initiate contact with the researcher and provide their contact details. This is a significant undertaking for victims of stalking, who are typically (and understandably) wary of divulging any personal information to strangers. That a significant proportion of victims were also drawn from domestic and sexual violence centres also limits the representativeness of the study, as these agencies traditionally

do not attract male victims of violence or stalking. The study did not employ any objective criteria to define the parameters of stalking, thus possibly including in the sample victims with the infrequent experience of unwanted contact that would not qualify as stalking for more stringent clinical and research purposes. The participants were a diverse group demographically, incorporating both those who had made contact with police or victim organisations and those who had not previously divulged their victimisation. Females constituted 83% of the sample, in keeping with the findings of the other clinical and epidemiological studies reviewed. Most victims were single or in intimate relationships and were typically aged in their mid thirties. A third of victims were employed in professional positions, 20% of these being in an executive capacity, while 16% had clerical jobs. In the majority of cases (57%) victims and their stalkers were prior intimates (89% of these stalkers being male), though 35% of respondents were pursued by prior acquaintances and 6% by strangers. The duration of stalking ranged from less than a month to over 31 years, the modal duration being between one and three years (though it should be recognised that the reported duration of stalking is likely to be an underestimate in many instances, given the inability of victims, especially those stalked by strangers or acquaintances, to be confident about the time at which they first became aware of the problem.) For half the victims the stalking had ceased, but 25% of those surveyed continued to be harassed, and a further 21% were unsure whether their stalking was ongoing. Most respondents believed that their pursuit was motivated by the inability of the stalker to accept the termination of a relationship, an ‘obsession’ with the victim (frequently involving suspected mental illness in the perpetrator), retaliation for a real or imagined slight, jealousy, or an attempt to initiate a relationship. The majority of these victims experienced multiple forms of harassment, most often involving telephone calls (87%), surveillance (84%) and following (80%), while unwanted approaches, malicious gossip and unsolicited gifts or packages were reported by nearly half the sample. A number of victims recounted less common incidents designed to intimidate and control, such as

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entering the victim’s home and interfering with household objects. It was often difficult for the victim to enlist police support when reporting subtle intrusions of this nature, and these were virtually impossible to prosecute in the absence of other criminal activities such as breaking and entering or theft. Sixty-three victims (43%) said their property was damaged by the stalker, 55 (38%) reported physical assaults and 32 (22%) indicated they had been sexually assaulted by their pursuer; there was no elaboration on the nature of these attacks. Over 40% of stalkers had threatened to harm a third party, although the incidence of overt threats against the primary victims was not reported, prohibiting any assessment of the relationship between threats and subsequent violence in this sample. This study also examined the impact of stalking on the lifestyle and daily functioning of the victims, noting that several victims moved residence, changed jobs or changed their surnames in attempts to elude their pursuers. Others altered their physical appearance in the hope that their stalkers would not recognise them, or would cease to be attracted to them, one woman going to the extreme of surgical breast reduction. The study did not systematically address the psychological impact of stalking, though 80% of victims agreed that their personality had changed as a consequence of their harassment, most victims noting that they had become less friendly and outgoing, and conversely more cautious, paranoid, easily frightened, aggressive and introverted. Many female victims responded that they were less trusting of men and increasingly suspicious of other people’s motives, leading to their retreat from normal activities. Other victims spoke of chronic apprehension and distress, often persisting long after the stalking had ceased, together with the omnipresent fear that the stalking would recommence at any time. As one victim explained, ‘His last contact was two years ago, but part of me is still afraid of him and when he’ll pop up again. Logically I know he won’t, but sometimes it still scares me’ (Hall, 1998, p. 135). Pathé and Mullen (1997) examined the experiences of 100 Australian victims of stalking, focusing predominantly on the impact on the victims’ psychological, social and occupational functioning. The victims who participated in the study were derived from two

sources, the first being persons referred to the authors’ forensic mental health clinic, and the second comprising individuals who contacted the authors directly following a series of articles on stalking that appeared in the print media. The participants represented a broad cross-section of the community but, given the non-random nature of the sample, could not be assumed to be representative of the general population of stalking victims. For the purposes of this study, only those individuals who reported repeated intrusions or being persistently contacted for a period of at least four weeks were defined as stalking victims. Individuals who recounted isolated instances of following or unwanted communications, or who experienced occasional instances of unwanted contact or intrusions over the course of several years, especially where the identity of the perpetrator was uncertain and may have differed on different occasions, were not included in the study, however distressing the encounters. The 100 individuals who fulfilled the criteria for stalking victimisation completed a detailed 50-item questionnaire that examined their demographic characteristics (and those of the perpetrator where known), the nature and the duration of the harassment, the prior relationship with their stalker, the impact of the stalking on their mental and physical health and their social and occupational functioning, and the availability and perceived adequacy of traditional and professional sources of assistance. Many victims provided additional comments, and those seen individually at the clinic gave extensive personal accounts, often remarking that the opportunity to discuss their ordeal in a sympathetic and constructive setting was, in itself, therapeutic. Eighty-three per cent of the stalking victims in this study were female. The victims ranged in age (at the time of the stalking) from nine to 66 years, most being in their mid to late thirties. In the majority of cases, the victim reported some form of previous contact with the stalker, most commonly a prior intimate relationship (29%), although others knew the perpetrator through a professional alliance (particularly doctor– patient) (25%) or through other work-related contexts (9%), and in 21% the victim and stalker were prior acquaintances, usually meeting through social and familial networks. In 16% of cases, the victim and

Victim studies

perpetrator were strangers. A significant proportion of the victims in this sample (36%) were, at the onset of stalking, employed in professional occupations such as medicine, teaching and law. The median duration of stalking was 24 months (ranging between one month and 20 years), 52% of the cohort claiming they were still being pursued. All victims in this study described multiple forms of harassment. Seventy-eight per cent received unsolicited telephone calls, often at inconvenient venues and frequently at times when they felt most vulnerable and violated, such as during the early hours. Those victims employed in professional occupations were more likely than other occupational groups to receive harassing telephone calls, usually at their workplace. Sixty-two per cent of the sample received unwanted letters from their stalkers, some receiving several missives per day. Two victims employed in professional occupations were harassed via email. Nearly 80% of victims reported unwanted approaches by their stalker, most often at their home, workplace or school, their assailants commonly seeking to express their love in person, plead for a reconciliation or verbally threaten. A further 71% were kept under surveillance, most being acutely aware of their stalker’s ubiquitous presence, typically outside their home or at places the victim frequented. Several stalkers menaced their victims by making the extent of their surveillance frighteningly apparent, often calling the victim at various locations throughout the day and night (several victims received calls from their stalker when visiting friends’ homes), or calling the victim the moment he or she arrived home. Some described the outfit the victim was currently wearing or the people he or she was with. Half the cohort received unsolicited material from their stalker, typically in the form of ‘gifts’ (flowers, perfume and chocolates prevailing), though others reported audiotapes, self-help books, magazines (often pornographic) or photographs (most often of the stalker). In several instances victims were sent mutilated animals, one finding a pig’s head on her doorstep and another a parcel containing her missing, now dismembered, cat. Property damage was reported by 36% of victims, with cars bearing the brunt of vandalism, typically in the form of graffiti, scratched paintwork

and slashed or deflated tyres, though homes were also frequently targeted, sustaining broken windows, damaged fences, upended letter boxes and ruined gardens. More than half of this sample (58%) said they received overt threats from their stalker, usually directed both at themselves and at third parties such as relatives, current intimate partners, friends or work colleagues. Threats included promises to destroy the victim unless he or she succumbed to the stalker’s demands. Death threats were received by several victims, being both explicit and implicit in the form of cards bearing gravestones, or in one case a fake notice in the ‘deaths’ column. Other victims were threatened with rape, and several were tormented with threats to harm their children. Assaults by the stalker were reported by 34 subjects, with 31 assaulted physically and seven sexually. Violence was most often directed towards the victim rather than third parties who, though frequently threatened with harm, appeared at lower risk of an escalation to assault. The majority of victims who reported physical assaults sustained bruises, abrasions and lacerations, usually as a result of being hit, kicked, slapped or pushed. However, one victim was fortunate to survive strychnine poisoning and a further two victims survived strangling quite literally at the hands of their stalker. One woman recounted in chilling detail her abduction by her ex-spouse stalker who, over the course of several days, consumed a large quantity of alcohol, watched pornographic videos and raped her. Seventy-six per cent of the victims who were assaulted by their stalker had received previous threats of personal violence. In this study, violence was most likely to be perpetrated when there was a pre-existing relationship of an intimate nature between victim and stalker. All victims had sought assistance to deal with their stalking, most commonly from family or friends (78%) and the police (69%), but many also attended medical practitioners (44%) and lawyers (38%). Police and lawyers were consulted predominantly by those victims suffering property damage, or when there was a prior intimate relationship (where violence was more likely to be a feature). Most victims noted that the stated desire of people and agencies to help was infrequently matched by their effectiveness, common examples being police who could not act to detain a stalker in

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the absence of physical harm or property damage (most of these cases presenting prior to the enactment of antistalking legislation in Australia). Virtually all 100 victims reported that the stalking had a deleterious effect on their psychological, social and/ or occupational functioning. Ninety-four per cent reported major lifestyle changes and modification of their daily activities in direct response to being stalked, most often involving avoidance of any places where the stalker might be and taking additional (and frequently expensive) security measures: these included the installation of motion-sensor exterior lighting and house alarms, and obtaining unlisted telephone numbers and post office box mailing addresses. Several victims changed or modified their cars, one tinting his windows so that his stalker, who persistently and brazenly followed and abused him in traffic, at least could not make eye contact. Many altered their driving habits, taking long, circuitous routes to avoid being followed home and constantly checking their rear-view mirrors for any signs of their pursuer. Curtailment of social activities was reported by 70% of victims, many attempting to circumvent any contact with their stalker. Often victims reported losing friendships due to declining invitations to functions where known associates of the stalker may have been. Although, as noted earlier, intimate relationships often suffer under the burden of the stalker’s involvement, not all deteriorate. One victim in this series married precipitously and immediately fell pregnant because, she candidly reasoned, having a baby would legitimise her need to stay at home and would provide her with company! Over half of the victims in this study reported a decrease or a cessation of work or school attendance, in some instances attributing the loss of employment to the stalker’s incessant telephone calls or other disruptions at the victim’s workplace, including threats to harm co-workers or employers, and absenteeism through attendances at court or medical appointments. Over a third of the victims felt compelled to change their workplace, school or career as a direct result of the stalking, and some 40% relocated their residence, some of these on two or more occasions. A handful of victims changed their names by deed poll to avoid, or at least impede, detection by their stalker. Such was the

level of fear and loss of faith in the protective powers of the judicial system that several victims relocated to a different state or migrated to another country, at enormous financial and personal cost. With few exceptions, victims in this study described deterioration in their mental and/or physical health as a consequence of their harassment. Many had entertained aggressive thoughts towards their perpetrator (admitted by 65%), the desire to retaliate against their assailant being barely contained in several cases. Over 75% of victims reported feeling powerless in the face of repeated intrusions, and a quarter of the victims seriously considered or actually attempted suicide at some point during their ordeal. Many also reported guilt feelings, especially in relation to their perceived poor choice of partners (which, as noted earlier, family and law enforcement agencies may have reinforced). Over 80% of the sample reported increased anxiety and arousal as a consequence of the stalking, most often manifesting as ‘jumpiness’, panic attacks, hypervigilance and ‘shakes’. Three-quarters reported chronic sleep disturbance, largely due to nightmares and hyperarousal, though many were kept awake by their stalker’s telephone calls or lay awake listening for any intrusions. Nearly half the sample reported appetite disturbance, with most experiencing some weight loss, though several victims purposefully gained large amounts of weight in futile attempts to diminish their attractiveness to their stalker. One ex-fitness fanatic became morbidly obese as a consequence of being housebound with fear. Nausea was experienced by a third of victims (often triggered by having to attend work or other venues associated with the stalking). Fifty per cent acknowledged excessive tiredness, weakness and headaches. Almost 25% of victims reported an increase in their alcohol and/or cigarette consumption as a result of their pursuit and harassment, these substances frequently being employed to ‘self-medicate’ intolerable symptoms of stress and anxiety. Several subjects reported an exacerbation of pre-existing physical conditions, such as psoriasis, peptic ulcers, ulcerative colitis and asthma attacks. One victim experienced a miscarriage which she attributed to the stress of being stalked. Another delivered a premature, lowbirthweight baby as a consequence, she believed,

Victim studies

of stress and (stalking-induced) excessive alcohol consumption prenatally. The majority of victims in this study reported experiencing one or more symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). More than half reported intrusive recollections or flashbacks of the stalking which were recurrent and distressing, often being triggered by everyday occurrences such as the telephone ringing, an unexpected knock on the door, or seeing cars of a particular make or colour reminiscent of that driven by the stalker. A further 38% of victims described avoidance or numbing of responses, particularly feelings of detachment from others. Only a third of the victims in this study, however, met the full diagnostic criteria for PTSD according to DSM-IV. An additional 20% met most of the elements for the diagnosis, failing only to meet the criterion of a necessary stressor that involved actual or threatened physical harm or a threat to one’s physical integrity. The majority of victims who fulfilled the criteria for PTSD in the study were female, consistent with the findings from epidemiological studies that suggest that women are at least two to four times more likely to develop this syndrome than men (ESEMeD/ MHEDEA Investigators, 2004; Kessler et al., 1995; Breslau et al., 1998, 1999). The symptoms of PTSD were more likely to emerge in those victims who reported following, as opposed to other forms of harassment, and among those exposed to violence. This diagnosis was also more likely in those subjects who shared a prior intimate relationship with the stalker, who concomitantly were both exposed to a greater likelihood of physical violence and were more likely to be female. The study by Pathé and Mullen (1997) was one of the earliest studies to chronicle the distress and disruption wrought in the lives of victims as a consequence of being stalked. Although the impact of stalking varied among victims, reflecting differences in the nature of the stalking experiences, the availability of support structures, the effectiveness or otherwise of legal interventions, and perhaps (though it was not measured) the resilience or vulnerabilities of the victims themselves, no victim was left unscathed by their experience, with all reporting changes that in some cases amounted to profound deterioration in functioning. Contrary to

popular assumptions, the accompaniment of violence with stalking was not a necessary prerequisite for deleterious effects in the victim, the majority of subjects reporting significant and usually chronic fear in the absence of any incidents of physical assault, though for many fear was a response to the threat of imminent physical violence. Instead, the menace and persistent intrusions that came to dominate the victim’s life, the often incomprehensible motives of stalkers and the unpredictable nature of the behaviour itself were powerful determinants of the observed morbidity. Ironically, several victims commented that a physical assault might have been preferable to chronic, less tangible psychological torment; certainly, this might have provoked a more assertive and sympathetic response from helping agencies. Fremouw and colleagues (1997) conducted a survey of stalking experiences among a population of approximately 600 college students. Anonymous questionnaires administered to psychology undergraduates sought to establish the prevalence of both stalkers and stalking victims in this sample, the prior relationship between stalker and victim and the coping strategies employed by the latter. The survey revealed that 30% of females and 17% of males reported being victims of stalking behaviours at some time. Conversely, a mere 1% (all of whom were male) admitted to having acted as a stalker. Among those reporting stalking victimisation, the stalker was known to his or her victim in 80% of cases, with 43% of females and 24% of males reporting a previous romantic involvement with their stalker. In fewer than 20% of cases the stalker was not previously known to the victim. The study also noted some discrepancies between reported coping strategies among female and male victims. While both either confronted or avoided the stalker, women also carried repellent aerosol weapons such as mace. An additional strategy reported by men, but not women, was to reconcile with their stalker, at least in instances where there had been a prior intimate relationship. Reporting the harassment to police, and legal remedies such as protective injunctions, were less popular options amongst this cohort. Westrup and colleagues (1999) assessed the psychological effects of stalking among a sample of female

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undergraduates. The study compared students on the basis of whether they had been exposed to ‘harassment’ or ‘stalking’ behaviour. The harassed group consisted of students who claimed to have been intentionally and repeatedly followed, harassed or threatened (n = 43). Those who additionally endorsed the question ‘Would you label the situation you were in as one in which you were being stalked by someone?’ were classed as having been stalked (n = 36). A control group of 48 female students who had never been harassed, but who had at some time been involved in a significant intimate relationship of at least six months’ duration, was included for comparison purposes. Participants completed several measures of psychopathology, including the Symptom Checklist-90-R (SCL-90-R: Derogatis, 1977), a self-report inventory examining nine symptom dimensions, including depression, anxiety and paranoia, and a self-report measure of post-traumatic symptomatology (PTSD Scale: Foa, 1995). The results demonstrated variation in the nature of the unwanted intrusions between the harassed and stalked groups, with victims of stalking significantly more likely to report unwanted phone calls (86% vs. 51%), property damage (30% vs. 11%), following (80% vs. 37%) and physical assaults (36% vs. 11%). Differences in the levels of psychopathology between the groups were less pronounced. The stalking group scored significantly higher than both the harassed and control groups on the measure of post-traumatic symptoms. They also scored higher than control subjects on indices of depressive symptomatology, anxiety and phobic reactions, but did not differ significantly from their harassed counterparts on these measures. College samples are of interest to stalking researchers because college is typically a time where young adults interact with a variety of individuals, and intimate relationships are established and relinquished (see also Spitzberg et al., 1998). Bjerregaard (2000) surveyed 788 college students at a US university. The random sample (65% female, 75% white, 85% single) was representative of the student population as a whole. She found that 21% of students (25% of females and 11% of males) reported experiencing stalking at some point in their lives, 6% of whom were currently being stalked. There were no differences between

stalked and non-victimised students in terms of age, race, marital status or household income. Most victims knew their stalker, who in the majority of cases was a former boyfriend or girlfriend of the opposite gender, though males were significantly more likely than females to report being stalked by a person of the same sex. Stalking lasted several months on average, being slightly longer for male victims in this study. There were few differences between male and female victims in terms of methods of harassment, the commonest being telephone and face-to-face contact, but female victims were more likely to report threats from their stalker. Threatened females were also more likely to have experienced approaches, and 39% of female victims who were threatened (vs. 3% who received no threats) were physically harmed by their stalker. Only 5% of males, however, experienced actual violence and none who had been threatened by their stalker were attacked. Female victims accordingly reported higher levels of fear for their physical safety and emotional wellbeing, and a greater propensity than their male counterparts to involve the criminal justice system, seek counselling and invoke other measures such as changing their phone number or relocating. Kamphuis and Emmelkamp (2001) surveyed supportseeking stalking victims drawn from the Dutch AntiStalking Foundation, exploring the nature of their harassment and its impact on their lifestyle and mental health. The survey utilised standardised measures of both general psychological distress (the 12-item General Health Questionnaire [GHQ-12]: Goldberg and Hillier, 1979) and post-traumatic morbidity (the Impact of Event Scale [IES]: Horowitz et al., 1979). Surveys were distributed to 594 members of the Foundation, of whom 255 responded (43%). Twenty subjects were subsequently excluded, as they failed to meet the criteria for stalking victimisation or provided insufficient data. Of the remaining 235 respondents, 34 were male. These were excluded from the analysis, the authors preferring to focus only on the experiences of female victims. Respondents who said they had experienced an ‘abnormal or long-term pattern of threat or harassment’, and who endorsed repeated instances of specific harassing intrusions, were classed as having been

Victim studies

stalked. The victim sample was highly skewed in terms of the nature of the prior relationship, with 73% of women reporting being stalked by male ex-intimates. Subjects were exposed to extended periods of victimisation, the majority (71%) being pursued for at least two years, though the proportion who continued to be stalked at the time of the survey was not given. A wide repertoire of stalking behaviours was reported, including unwanted telephone calls (89%), the spreading of malicious rumours or lies (82%), intrusive visits (74%), being pestered at work or home (79%) and property damage (64%). Three-quarters of women were reportedly threatened with violence, and 55% indicated that the perpetrator had ‘used violence’ against them, although the nature of this was not defined. Virtually all victims in this study said they were fearful as a consequence of the harassment (97%), and 88% felt that their personal safety was threatened. The majority sought legal assistance (69%), despite the lack of specific anti-stalking legislation in the Netherlands at the time of the study, and over a third changed their residence, often moving to another city. A quarter of the sample ceased their work or school attendance, fearing exposure to further harassment in these settings. Over half the sample indicated that they avoided leaving their homes. The psychological toll for this group was considerable. Some 59% of victims met the threshold for ‘caseness’ morbidity on the GHQ-12, indicating moderate levels of general psychological distress. The mean total score on the IES indicated high levels of post-traumatic symptomatology. The rates of psychopathology did not differ according to the nature of the prior relationship with the perpetrator, but analysis did not extend to the potential mediating effects of stalking duration, exposure to threats and assault, or the recency of victimisation on the observed levels of psychiatric morbidity. The study by Kamphuis and Emmelkamp (2001) characterised a particularly severe form of stalking, with most victims pursued by ex-intimate partners who were prone to threatening and physically violent conduct. The high rates of general psychiatric and posttraumatic morbidity were not surprising in this context. Being stalked not only produced significant lifestyle

disruptions for these victims, but in all likelihood isolated many from their usual sources of support. Though not examined, a lack of social support or inadequate legal interventions may have also contributed to the high rates of observed psychological morbidity. Blaauw and colleagues (2002) subsequently sent a survey, including a Dutch translation GHQ-28, to 470 stalking victims registered with the Dutch AntiStalking Foundation. It is unclear whether any of these subjects overlapped with those in the Kamphuis and Emmelkamp (2001) study. The authors commented on the strikingly high levels of psychopathology in this sample, with 78% of the 241 valid respondents receiving scores on the GHQ-28 that equated with a diagnosable psychiatric disorder and 31% reporting suicidal thoughts. Symptoms were largely independent of features of their stalking experience.

Random community samples In all likelihood the experiences of support-seeking victims represent the extreme end of the spectrum of stalking. More recent studies have drawn from larger, representative community-based samples. Some of these have used comparison groups of individuals who have never been harassed or stalked in order to establish the relative risks of psychological distress among stalking victims. The British Crime Survey (Budd & Mattison, 2000: see Chapter 3) found that stalking had impacted adversely on the majority of victims, with 92% reporting some level of annoyance and three-quarters finding the behaviours distressing or upsetting. Distress was more prominent among women. Enforced lifestyle changes were reported by 71% of victims, particularly women, with over half the sample avoiding certain situations or people, a third venturing out less and 42% adopting extra security measures. The psychosocial impact of stalking was observed to be greater in those cases involving a sexual assault, violence or the threat of violence and obscene phone calls. Interestingly, only a third of victims in this survey (conducted in 1998) understood that these behaviours constituted a crime. Those who did were more likely to seek police assistance (56%). Other sources of help reported by this

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sample included friends, relatives and neighbours (72%), intimates (55%) and less frequently a doctor or other carer (8%). Women were again more likely to seek advice than men. As detailed in the previous chapter, Purcell and colleagues (2002, 2005b) conducted a random, representative community survey examining the experience of harassing intrusions and current mental health. Standardised brief self-report instruments (the 28-item GHQ and the IES) were employed to assess rates of psychiatric symptomatology in those who reported the experience of brief harassing intrusions (n = 196, median duration 2 days) or protracted stalking (n = 236, median duration 6 months) and a control group who reported no such harassment (n = 432). The latter group of non-harassed subjects was matched according to gender, age, highest level of education and employment status, but marital status could not be controlled between the groups as the rates of separation and divorce were significantly higher among victims of stalking. Victims in this study reporting a stalking duration of more than two weeks were more likely than their briefly harassed counterparts to boost their home security, change residence, curtail their social outings, increase their alcohol and tobacco consumption and experience greater work absenteeism. These victims were also more likely to indicate they had sought some form of assistance (82% vs. 55%), particularly from the police (44% vs. 27%) and mental health professionals (23% vs. 4%). In this study, rates of psychiatric morbidity on the GHQ-28 were significantly higher among individuals who reported a history of protracted stalking (36%) than among either matched controls (19%) or victims of brief episodes of harassment (22%). Subscale scores on the GHQ-28 also differed according to group, with victims of stalking scoring higher than both harassed and control subjects on most measures (somatic complaints, anxiety/insomnia and severe depression). Victims of stalking were also more likely than the harassed and control groups to endorse recent suicidal ideation, an experience reported by almost one in 10 stalking victims in this study. Sixteen per cent of stalking victims in this study met the criteria for caseness on the IES, indicating clinically

significant levels of post-traumatic symptomatology. Victims of stalking were three times more likely than the victims of briefer periods of harassment to meet the threshold for caseness on the IES, and total IES scores were also elevated for stalked subjects compared with the harassed group. The rates of general psychiatric morbidity among the victims of stalking in this study were not associated with the methods of pursuit or the experience of associated threats and violence. There was no association between the nature of the prior relationship to the stalker and morbidity on either the GHQ-28 or the IES, suggesting that psychopathology among stalking victims may be largely independent of who engages in such pursuit. The recency of the stalking similarly failed to moderate the levels of general psychiatric distress, the proportion of victims meeting the threshold for caseness on the GHQ-28 not differing significantly from those pursued in the year prior to the study (43%) and those stalked more than 12 months earlier (34%). Unlike the rates of general psychiatric morbidity, the levels of post-traumatic psychopathology did vary according to the recency of victimisation. A third of victims who were stalked in the year prior to the survey met the criteria for caseness on the IES, compared to 10% of those for whom stalking ended more than a year earlier. These findings suggest that while symptoms of anxiety and depression often persist, the severity of intrusive reminders and restrictive avoidance behaviours is likely to diminish over time. Nonetheless, 10% of victims remained significantly disturbed by intrusive and unwanted reminders of the stalking long after the immediate threat of the behaviour had abated. This randomly selected community sample found that over a third of individuals exposed to protracted stalking reported elevated levels of psychiatric morbidity, and nearly one in five reported significant posttraumatic symptomatology. Anxiety and depression was more pronounced for those with a history of stalking, approximately 10% of whom acknowledged recent suicidal ideation. The nature of victimisation contributed minimally to rates of anxiety and depressive symptoms, as did the recency of stalking. These findings emphasise the chronic course of impairment that can accompany stalking victimisation, despite evidence

Victim studies

that the severity of the symptoms in many cases diminishes over time. The study also lends further support to our earlier premise that the fear and menace associated with threats may be more emotionally damaging to victims than the reality of physical harm. The rates of post-traumatic symptomatology in the random community sample studied by Purcell et al. were notably lower than those observed in clinical settings, and in the studies of support-seeking stalking victims described earlier (e.g. Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Kamphuis & Emmelkamp, 2001). The Kamphuis and Emmelkamp study contained a preponderance of victims of ex-intimate stalking (73%), a high proportion of whom were subjected to threats and violence. Additional variables that may mediate psychopathology among stalking victims were not measured in the study by Purcell et al. Since the study could not control for marital status, the possibility that elevated rates of psychopathology were associated with higher rates of separation and divorce could not be excluded. This study was unique, however, in distinguishing between two types of repeated intrusiveness, short-lived harassment and protracted stalking (for further discussion of the heuristic value in this distinction see Chapter 3). In doing so it was possible to demonstrate that briefer periods of harassment are not associated with longerterm emotional disturbance. Indeed, the proportion of subjects meeting the criteria for caseness on the GHQ-28 was equivalent between those exposed to brief spurts of harassment and non-harassed controls. This is not to say that individuals subject to short-lived harassment suffer no ill effects, as it is our experience that many individuals will experience some degree of fear and apprehension, and for some the conduct may precipitate a sense of vulnerability or a preoccupation with safety. The impact of stalking will be discussed further later in this chapter. More recently, Dressing and colleagues (2005) conducted a random postal survey of 1000 men and 1000 women residing in the German city of Mannheim, as detailed in Chapter 3. Consistent with the findings of earlier surveys, nearly three-quarters of the victims identified in the Mannheim study reported changes to their lifestyle in response to the stalking, including

changing their telephone number, implementing additional security measures, changing employment and moving to another address. Those who reported stalking experiences also described a range of psychological and somatic symptoms, most commonly agitation (56%), anxiety (44%), sleep difficulties (41%), suspicion of others (39%), ‘stomach trouble’ (35%), depression (28%), headaches (14%) and panic attacks (12%). In this study 24% of victims had consulted a psychologist or physician as a consequence of stalking-related distress, and 18% were reportedly on sick leave because of the impact of the stalking. Almost a third of the victim sample reported aggressive thoughts towards their stalker. The impact of lifetime stalking on current psychological wellbeing was explored by asking all participants in the Mannheim survey, irrespective of their experience of harassment, to complete the WHO-5 Well-Being Index, a five-item scale that assesses psychological wellbeing over the past two weeks (World Health Organization, 1998). Those identified as stalking victims scored significantly worse than non-victimised respondents according to this psychometric measure, despite the vast majority of victims reporting that the stalking had ended at the time of the survey. A multiple regression analysis found a strong association between ever having been stalked and low levels of psychological wellbeing at the time of the survey. The Mannheim survey further assessed current psychiatric morbidity by administering the Patient Health Questionnaire to all participants (Kuehner et al., 2007). The PHQ, an extensively evaluated psychometric tool specifically developed for use in primary care settings, generates threshold and subthreshold psychiatric diagnoses according to DSM-IV, though it does not assess symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (Spitzer et al., 1999). This group found that, when adjusted for age and sex, lifetime stalking victims (n = 77) were more likely to currently manifest major depression, panic disorder, generalised anxiety disorder and somatoform disorder, and when further adjusted for the presence of comorbid disorders the most robust associations were with major depression and panic disorder. Lifetime stalking victims were no more likely to suffer from

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alcohol-related disorders, but 20.8% of victims, compared with 5.6% of non-victims, reported current psychotropic medication usage. When active victims (n = 11) were excluded from this analysis there remained a significant association between stalking victimisation and psychiatric caseness, supporting the findings of earlier studies that stalking can produce poor long-term health consequences for its victims.

Typology of stalking victims Several classifications of stalking victims have been proposed, all based on the premorbid relationship between victim and stalker. Zona and colleagues (1993) simply divided victims into two categories, either prior relationship or no prior relationship, the former subdivided into acquaintance, customer, neighbour, professional relationship, dating and sexual intimates. Meloy and Gothard (1995) advocated categorisation of victims as either stranger or former (sexual) intimate while Harmon et al. (1995) were rather more inclusive, classifying the victim’s prior relationship as personal, professional, employment, media, acquaintance, none or unknown. Subsequently, Meloy (1996) argued for a simplification of this relational typology into three broad, mutually exclusive groupings: prior sexual intimates, prior acquaintances and strangers. Fremouw and colleagues (1997) divided the prior relationship between victim and stalker into friend, casual date, serious date and stranger, while Emerson et al. (1998) introduced the terms unacquainted stalking, pseudoacquainted stalking (where the victim is a publicly identified figure) and semiacquainted stalking (where there has been some contact between victim and stalker in the past, as in co-workers). We have proposed the following typology of stalking victims, in which they are categorised according to their former relationship with the stalker and the context in which they are targeted. These are not entirely mutually exclusive groupings, and the allocation of a victim will in some instances be a matter of judgement. The groupings are: prior intimates, estranged family and friends, casual acquaintances, professional contacts, workplace contacts, strangers, public figures, unknowns and secondary victims.

Prior intimates This is the largest category, the commonest victim profile being a woman who has previously shared an intimate relationship with her (usually male) stalker. Although some have defined prior intimates as ‘current or former spouses, current or former co-habitants (of the same or opposite sex), or current or former boyfriends or girlfriends’ (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998), we include as stalking only those cases in which the relationship has been terminated, the victim having made his or her wishes unequivocally known to the other party. It has been noted that approximately half of these cases will have been stalked by their partner while still in the relationship, being even at this stage subjected to behaviours such as following, surveillance and damage to personal property. These relationships are often characterised by the offending partner’s emotional abuse, controlling behaviour and violence. Indeed, it has been found that over 80% of women stalked by a current or former partner have whilst still in the relationship been physically assaulted by them, with a further 30% reporting sexual assaults prior to their separation (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). The stalking behaviours often indulged in whilst the relationship is still in progress serve to intimidate and control the victim. Stalking a partner isolates them from outside supports such that the victim can less easily leave the relationship. Stalked ex-intimates are exposed to the widest range of harassment methods. Repeated phone calls and persistent following, threats and violence are more likely to be experienced by this group (see Chapter 6). Walker and Meloy (1998) contend that, within the realm of domestic violence, ‘stalking is a risk factor for further physical abuse or a lethal incident just by virtue of the tenacious proximity seeking toward the victim, and especially if it occurs in combination with several other high-risk behaviours’ (p. 142). The victims of ex-intimate partners can expect the pursuit to be more persistent, though legal sanctions may persuade their ex-partner to refrain from further harassment. This is often more complicated if victim and stalker share children: the stalker may have legitimate visitation rights (though these are often

Typology of stalking victims

exceeded) or may embark on a custody battle fuelled by a strong sense of entitlement, vengeance and determination to maintain contact with the rejecting party (see Chapter 15). In one instance, a stalker made false allegations that his ex-wife was abusing their two young children, a malicious tactic that very nearly resulted in the victim losing custody of her children and facing criminal charges. Morbidly jealous ex-intimates are also more refractory to legal interventions, their victims typically reporting that they were subject to stalking behaviours, particularly surveillance, during the relationship. One woman left her ex-partner when he became increasingly suspicious of her innocent interactions with male work peers. He had been monitoring her day-to-day activities by appearing unexpectedly at her workplace or at other venues including cafés and shops, wiretapping the home phone, scrutinising her mobile phone bills for unfamiliar numbers, and reading her mail. This behaviour escalated when the relationship ended, the woman being subjected to almost constant surveillance and repeated threats. ‘Date’ stalkers, with whom the victim may have had only a brief romantic liaison, are less likely to exhibit violence than ex-partners, whose emotional investment in the victim is considerably greater. The victim of a date stalker often gives a history of discomfort early in the relationship. They are, however, often reluctant to hurt their (most commonly) boyfriend’s feelings and they may accept further dates beyond the point at which they perceive any future in the relationship. These cases lend some truth to the maxim ‘men who cannot let go choose women who cannot say no’ (de Becker, 1997, p. 203). When victims do make an assertive attempt to extricate themselves, their partner typically reacts badly, often in a childlike or pathetic manner which exploits the victim’s guilt and sympathy. Some will threaten suicide (Pathé, 2002). The guilt frequently experienced by victims in this category can be reinforced by the propensity of others to judge their predicament. Family and friends may express their disapproval of the victim’s relationship choices, and helping agencies may convey their suspicions that the victim in some way encouraged the stalking. Ex-intimate victims are more likely than those in other categories to seek police help and legal advice,

where they may encounter similar attitudes. The response of the criminal justice system does not always live up to the victim’s expectations, leading to calls for comprehensive training for workers in the criminal justice system in the special needs of victims of intimate-partner stalking (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998).

Estranged family and friends Victims may be pursued by an estranged parent, sibling, child, extended family member or former friend. Parents who cannot tolerate their children’s lifestyle or relationship choices on account of religious, cultural or personality factors may engage in stalking behaviours. A 25-year-old psychology student who consulted us had moved out of the parental home in response to her Croatian father’s strenuous opposition to her relationship with her Macedonian boyfriend. Her father stormed her boyfriend’s home and threatened his family, he repeatedly phoned his daughter and called her a whore, and he interrupted her lectures and was so abusive he had to be forcibly removed. The victim ultimately suspended her studies, abandoned her long-suffering boyfriend and fled overseas. In another case a middle-aged man with antisocial personality traits blamed his elderly parents for his childhood sexual abuse by a Catholic priest. He repeatedly threatened his parents and attempted to extort $50 000 from his pensioner father as ‘compensation’, he smashed windows at the front of their house when they refused him entry, and he spread malicious rumours about his father’s sexual proclivities. The parents were forced to obtain a protective injunction against their son, but because the harassment was perceived as a ‘family dispute’ the police were reticent to enforce the order.

Casual acquaintances Victims in this category know their stalker through a casual social encounter or other casual association. They may for example be neighbours. Hall (1998) found that this was the commonest category for male stalking victims. Intimacy seekers and incompetents may commence their activities after a casual social

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encounter, while rejected stalking patterns may emerge after the breakdown of a casual friendship. Neighbour stalking is generally perpetrated by resentful stalkers. Typically, the victim becomes embroiled in a dispute with a neighbour, often over property boundaries, renovations, gardens, pets or noise. The perpetrator develops a grudge against the victim that is disproportionate to the original conflict and becomes increasingly focused on revenge. His or her activities escalate, with personal threats directed at the victim, malicious complaints to police and government departments, property damage, the theft or killing of pets, letters and notes affixed to the victim’s car or property, house break-ins, leaving unsolicited material such as dead rodents on the victim’s doorstep, monitoring the victim’s movements from a vantage point such as a front or side window in the stalker’s home (sometimes aided by binoculars and cameras), repeated accusatory approaches when the victim ventures out and even full-blown assaults. The stalker in these situations may also target the primary victim’s family or other co-habitants, children especially becoming pawns in the conflict. Protective injunctions are problematic and difficult to enforce in these circumstances, the victim or victims frequently resorting to a change of residence to escape their highly stressful home environment. Though drastic and disruptive to the victim’s entire family, this strategy is frequently curative in these situations.

Professional contacts Healthcare providers, lawyers and teachers are especially vulnerable to stalking. These professions are at increased risk of stalkers from all motivational categories, though intimacy seekers, incompetents and the resentful predominate. The termination of a therapeutic relationship may occasionally give rise to ‘rejected’ stalking patterns, and this group of victims can also be prone to the sexually predatory behaviours of their patients, clients or students. Chapter 17 presents research on the prevalence of stalking within the healthcare industry, and examines its impact upon health professionals and its implications for the profession as a whole.

Workplace contacts For some individuals, stalking victimisation arises in a work-related context. Chapter 16 discusses the nature of workplace stalking and a range of approaches to this growing problem.

Strangers Victims in this category are not aware of any prior contact with the stalker. The stalker’s unfamiliarity in itself creates confusion and alarm. Most commonly they are pursued by intimacy-seeking or incompetent individuals, both of whom may admire the victim from afar for some time before subjecting their love interest to more overt forms of harassment. On occasion the stalker’s identity is initially concealed from the victim and is presumed to be a stranger, but later, when the stalker chooses to shed his or her anonymity (or has no choice but to do so in order to seek greater proximity to the object of interest), he or she may actually be known to the victim. Intimacy seekers generally select their victim on the basis of his or her elevated social status or their prominence in the stalker’s environment (see Chapter 7). A socialite was pursued over a two-year period by a 30-year-old male with an untreated schizophrenic illness and secondary erotomanic delusions. He believed that he was secretly engaged to the attractive young woman whose picture frequently appeared in the social pages of the local newspaper. He wrote regularly to his imagined lover and occasionally watched her at public events, but when he finally approached her at a charity dinner he was unceremoniously evicted. Fearful that she was being held captive by her minders and prevented from joining her faithful suitor, he returned to the dinner armed with knives and ‘prepared to fight’. He was easily overpowered and conveyed to a psychiatric hospital for treatment, his victim commenting, ‘He sent a few letters but I thought he was a pretty harmless, pathetic kind of guy … I don’t know what it was with me – I’d never seen him before in my life.’ While psychotic, as opposed to personalitydisordered, intimacy seekers may have a lower incidence of violence towards their love object they are as

Typology of stalking victims

likely as other stalkers to make threats and they are among the most persistent of stalkers (Mullen et al., 1999). Occasionally these stalkers will react with extreme violence to their victim’s repeated rebuffs (Mullen & Pathé, 1994b). Those who fall victim to unfamiliar incompetent stalkers find that, typically by virtue of physical attractiveness and being in the wrong place at the wrong time, they are subsequently subjected to repeated approaches and other unwanted intrusions from an unknown or little-known individual of usually limited endowment who is unnervingly impervious to rejection. Victims report crude attempts to court them, often receiving gifts such as flowers and soft toys, especially on occasions like birthdays and St Valentine’s Day. In this group victims may describe feelings of surprise and even flattery when first approached. In these circumstances they may reply with a polite and often ambiguous response which is perceived by the stalker as encouragement. At times victims give in to their stalker’s persistence, dating them on one or more occasions, perhaps out of naive curiosity but more often in the misguided hope that their unwanted suitor will then desist. This response does indeed gratify the stalker’s wishes – to have, and hold onto, a relationship – and reinforces the pursuit. The sexually predatory stalker frequently targets strangers. The victim is an adult female in the majority of cases, but neither children nor men have escaped the attentions of this group of stalkers. Commonly, victims report a shorter duration of pursuit relative to their counterparts in other victim categories, although their stalker’s involvement often predates the victim’s awareness of their interest. This group is subject to a range of sexually abusive behaviours, from obscene phone calls to rape and even sexual murder, as detailed in Chapter 9. The following case illustrates the overlapping nature of the classificatory system, demonstrating both stranger and workplace stalking with predatory and incompetent elements. CASE EXAMPLE Con was a 22-year-old man of Greek immigrant parents who was referred to our clinic by the court for a pre-sentence psychiatric assessment. He had been convicted of stalking a

19-year-old shop assistant and misuse of telecommunications equipment. He presented as a rather immature and shy man with limited verbal skills but he was reasonably forthcoming at interview, expressing some guilt for his actions which he summed up as ‘stupid … it was really dumb’. It transpired that one day almost a year previously Con had been browsing for jeans in a clothing shop near the home he shared with his parents. He was approached by the sales assistant, an attractive woman who greeted him with a friendly smile and offered to help him find his correct size. As he tried the jeans on he envisioned the young woman as his girlfriend and felt highly sexually aroused. He wanted to ask the shop assistant out but lacked the confidence; he instead put the jeans aside, ostensibly to further contemplate the purchase, but with the actual intention of returning to speak with the girl of his dreams. Con claimed to have made multiple further attempts to engage this woman, but he simply felt too awkward to proceed to ask her out on a date. Instead, he hovered outside the shop, mostly out of sight, trying to catch glimpses of her at work. He admitted also to following her to her car at the end of her shift and to watching her and a group of females as they lunched at a nearby shopping mall. He became preoccupied with her, and she became the focus of his sexual fantasies. One day, he called her anonymously from a payphone opposite the shop, but was paralysed with anxiety and said nothing. However, on the second occasion a day later he asked her about the lingerie she was wearing, proceeding to make a number of lewd suggestions before she hung up. He made a further eight calls, all obscene, before the police intercepted. Con was the youngest of three brothers. Both of his brothers were substantially older and had long before married and moved out of home. Con considered himself a loner who had struggled at school, leaving during Year 10 to embark on a printing apprenticeship. He regarded himself as heterosexual but had never had a girlfriend and remained a virgin, blaming his shyness and lack of social opportunities. Con’s parents were concerned about their son’s social isolation and had arranged on a number of occasions for him to meet the daughters of friends, but Con was never comfortable about pursuing these. By Con’s account his parents were caring people who both now suffered major ill health and wanted to see Con ‘settled with his own family’ before they died. Con had no record of prior convictions but admitted previously following and monitoring other attractive women, though always, he believed, without their knowledge. He denied making obscene calls in the past and specifically denied paraphilic arousal patterns and other sexually offensive activities. He was not a substance abuser, though he was inclined to drink excessively on the infrequent occasions

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he ventured out socially. He said this gave him a little more confidence around people. Mental state examination did not reveal any major mood disorder or psychotic features. Intelligence testing demonstrated an IQ in the low-average range. Con said he had not returned to the clothing shop since his arrest, nor had he made any attempt to further contact his victim. He recognised that his actions would have had a negative impact on her, even though she was probably unaware of the full extent of the stalking behaviours. He claimed he no longer fantasised about the woman, finding his arrest and court appearance sufficiently aversive to extinguish these feelings for her. He agreed to participate in a group programme which provided training in social and intimacy skills, and education in human sexuality.

Victims may also fall prey to an unknown stalker whose actions are motivated by resentment. The victim may well have done nothing specific to provoke the harassment, but rather is selected as a representative of a particular group or class detested by the stalker. For some victims this may be only that they epitomise success in life. One female executive found herself the recipient of threatening phone calls and letters as well as having her gleaming new sports car scratched and scrawled with abusive graffiti. She was eventually confronted with the heretofore anonymous persecutor in the driveway of her home. The stalker, an unemployed young man, bitterly accused her of knowing nothing of hardship and profiting from the misery of the disadvantaged. This same man, who had been retrenched from his job two years earlier, had previously made threats to a prominent wealthy businessman, for which he still faced charges. While the choice of target may not always be clear to the victim of a resentful stranger, there is much less confusion about the stalker’s feelings towards them. As suggested by the word resentful, these individuals are embittered and aggrieved, and it is their intention to induce fear and distress in the object of their unwanted intrusions. Like those stalked by ex-intimates, victims in this category are subject to a range of behaviours including being threatened and assaulted. It is of little comfort to victims that progression to full-blown assault occurs infrequently, the stalker preferring to intentionally create a climate of fear over a protracted period (see Chapter 6). Unfortunately for some victims,

the harassment persists or even escalates in response to legal intervention. One woman received death threats from her imprisoned stalker on his illegally obtained mobile phone. The woman had once worked for a betting agency against which her stalker had a longstanding vendetta. He one day entered her office drunk and verbally abusive and she called the police, who ejected him. Outraged and humiliated, he had since focused his hostilities on her, culminating in what the victim believed would be her two-month reprieve as he served a prison sentence for stalking and threats to kill. The prisoner was unrepentant and righteously indignant when embarrassed prison officials removed the contraband. The incident had enormous implications for the victim’s wellbeing, shattering her confidence and trust in the criminal justice system and her capacity to ever feel safe.

Public figures These victims are known to the stalker through their celebrity or other public profile. Examples include entertainers, sports stars, writers, models, socialites, politicians and heads of state. The psychopathology and motivations of their stalkers are discussed in Chapter 18. Just as celebrity stalkers not uncommonly target, concurrently or sequentially, a number of celebrities, high-profile victims may well have to contend with more than one stalker. Indeed, in his intriguing account of celebrity stalkers and assassins, Gavin de Becker (1997) notes that the phenomenon is now commonplace among celebrities, though only a small proportion of these are ever reported in the media. It has even become a source of black humour in celebrity circles that one hasn’t attained true fame unless one has one’s own stalker! Many place much of the blame for this malediction on the evolution of the media age: Performers, politicians, and sports figures have long been admired and even loved, but that love used to be contained and distant … It was, emotionally speaking, a one-way street, because feelings could be displayed to the public figure only as part of an acceptable function, like voting, sending letters, or seeing a show …[Fans] didn’t seek to make themselves known personally to performers … Before the advent of mass media, a young girl might have admired a performer from afar, and it

Typology of stalking victims

would have been acceptable if she pursued the performer to his home, or if she had to be restrained by police. It would not have been acceptable to skip school in order to wait for hours outside a hotel and then try to tear pieces of clothing from the passing star. (de Becker, 1997, pp. 232–3)

In his book Star Stalkers, Mair (1995) observes that many individuals who pursue celebrity figures share backgrounds which are remarkable for their lack of intimacy. Some harbour delusional beliefs that they have an intimate relationship with their victim (for example, the multiply stalked talk-show host David Letterman was harassed for a decade by a woman who insisted she was his wife), while others understand that their love for the victim is not (yet) reciprocated. Violence occurs uncommonly, its incidence, again, being disproportionately reported in the mass media. Attacks on the victim are more likely in the face of persistent rejection or other precipitants, when the stalker finally realises the hopelessness of his quest, or in those cases where the celebrity is the object of animosity rather than affection. For example, actress/ singer Olivia Newton-John was pursued at one time by a psychotic man who vowed to kill her because he believed her to be an impostor, and the 1993 knife attack on tennis player Monica Seles was intended to eliminate her from the tennis circuit so that her assailant Günter Parche could ensure the success of her opponent Steffi Graf, whom he had idolised for years. It was reported that after his arrest Parche told police, ‘Seles had no right to be the world’s top player. That was Steffi’s place. I love her’ (Who Weekly, May 1993, p. 43). The media can promote stalking of public figures by its reporting of these cases, glamorising them and fulfilling the stalker’s dreams of a relationship of sorts with their victim. The attention accorded to these individuals, especially those who ultimately become assassins, may fulfil one of the stalker’s objectives: to achieve fame, or at least notoriety, their behaviour culminating in the biggest and most important day of their life. Forensic psychiatrist Park Dietz observes, ‘In their quest for attention and identity, these individuals go to the people who have the most identity to spare: famous people’ (cited in de Becker, 1997, pp. 259–60).

Protection of celebrity victims has become an industry in its own right, especially in parts of the world such as Los Angeles where fame is concentrated. Increasingly, the famous forward inappropriate communications for professional evaluation and can be sheltered from much of the harassment. There is evidence that stalkers can be thwarted by the inaccessibility of their victim. Robert Bardo, the stalker who ultimately murdered Rebecca Schaeffer, was known to have stalked several famous people, but gave up on these because they were less accessible than the young actress. In Bardo’s view at least, if stars ‘have security and they have bodyguards, it makes you look at that celebrity different and makes a person like me stand back. It kind of stands against this hope of a romantic relationship’ (de Becker, 1997, p. 242).

Unknowns In some cases victims do not know the identity of their stalker. They may receive anonymous phone calls, correspondence or other forms of harassment that leave few clues to the stalker’s persona or even their motive. The impact of stalking by an unidentified perpetrator can be substantial. Victims feel particularly powerless when they are targeted in this manner, especially in those cases where the stalker continues to evade all efforts at detection. For these victims the entire world can take on a frightening and malevolent quality, heightening distrust and constricting their social sphere. This is depicted brilliantly in Charles Gassot’s movie A la folie pas du tout (He loves me, he loves me not), in which a cardiologist, plagued by repeated anonymous communications from an erotomanic woman, mistakes the identity of his paramour and attacks an innocent patient.

Secondary victims These victims are not the primary object of the stalker’s attention. Their victimisation may be the accidental or deliberate consequence of their proximity or relationship to the primary victim. Commonly encountered in this category are the family members, friends, work colleagues and housemates of the primary victim. We

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were consulted by a woman who lost most of her possessions when her flatmate’s former boyfriend, who had been stalking and threatening the flatmate for some months, set fire to their apartment. More typically, third parties are deliberately targeted when the stalker perceives them as blocking access to the object of their affections. Romantic partners of victims pursued by former intimates and would-be suitors are particularly vulnerable, making up 3% of stalking victims in one random community survey (Dressing et al., 2005). In these situations third parties may be subjected to threats, property damage and even physical violence, the stalker reasoning, ‘If I can’t have her nobody else will’. Even casual friends who are perceived to be romantically involved with the victim are vulnerable to harassment, especially when the stalker is morbidly jealous. Threats may be directed at third parties in order to manipulate or retaliate against the primary victim. For instance, the stalker may threaten to harm the victim’s children or harangue her elderly parents unless she acquiesces to his demands. One stalker sent obscene letters to the family members of the new girlfriend of her primary victim (ex-boyfriend) and circulated staff bulletins at this woman’s workplace, alleging the woman was involved in prostitution. Children are commonly secondary victims of stalking. They may be directly threatened or used as pawns in child custody disputes between the victimised parent and the stalking parent (see Chapter 15). They may be exposed to the stalker’s threats and intrusions, and to behaviours that even to adults are bizarre and incomprehensible. Their pets may be maimed or killed. They are subjected to high levels of parental anxiety, depression and dysfunction. They may be forced to assume adult responsibilities (e.g. grocery shopping because the parent is housebound with fear) or their lifestyle may be severely constrained by the victim’s debility or overprotectiveness. In one case, the children of a woman who was being stalked by her violent ex-husband suffered increasing isolation as their mother kept them at home and other parents would not risk allowing their children to visit their flat. Others who are vulnerable to victimisation are the primary victim’s co-workers, who again may be

perceived as thwarting access to the victim (e.g. when they refuse to pass on the stalker’s phone calls or otherwise block the stalker’s intrusions in the workplace.) As noted in Chapter 16, a stalker’s repeated incursions at work can be very disruptive to staff and customers, and they may become the recipients of threats and violence.

Unusual victims The circumstances underlying the selection of some victims may be highly unusual. A woman who sought our assistance recounted a relatively brief but intense campaign of harassment, being subjected to repeated abusive phone calls, angry approaches in public and arson attacks on her property. Her stalker had a long history of fanatical pursuit of public figures, but it transpired that the victim had herself stalked a local media figure and had been threatened with a court injunction. It was when her stalking activities intruded upon his stalking that she found herself on the receiving end of merciless harassment. She subsequently abandoned her pursuit of the contested celebrity. Interestingly, this decision to abandon her obsession with the celebrity appeared to be based as much on a whole new appreciation of the impact of her unwanted contact and communications as on her fears for her personal safety should she again encroach on this man’s territory. Thus, experiencing stalking through a victim’s eyes proved to be an effective, albeit highly unusual, remedy for stalking (her stalker subsequently responded to the more conventional approach of legal sanctions). Robert Bardo experienced a similar role reversal after his incarceration for Rebecca Schaeffer’s murder: ‘All the fame that I have achieved from this [celebrity murder] results in me getting death threats and harassment. The media says things about me that aren’t even true. I have no control over them invading my privacy, bringing up my case over and over again on TV so they can make money off it’ (de Becker, 1997, p. 241). Now apparently sympathetic to the plight of the famous, he wants to be regarded as the ‘anti-assassin’, offering advice to the stars in the hope that they may avoid harassment and harm (de Becker, 1997).

The impact of stalking on victims

Though arguably a variant of famous victims (Newman & Appelbaum, 2007), notorious prisoners may also attract adoring fans whose behaviours can constitute stalking. An armed robber now detained in a maximum-security prison who received considerable media exposure as a consequence of his multiple prison escapes has been inundated with letters – some containing nude photographs – from adoring young men and infatuated women. One flashed her genitals at the prisoner during a non-contact visit and, although she has been banned from further visits, continues to write him letters and declare her love for him. The attentions are such that this inglorious victim appealed through his lawyer for the ‘hero-worship’ to stop (The Sunday Mail, 14 March 1999, p. 6). Rarely, non-celebrities may be targeted by multiple stalkers, either concurrently or (more often) sequentially. While individuals who make false allegations of being stalked may assert they have attracted multiple stalkers (see Chapter 19), there do appear to be genuine cases who, by virtue of a high-risk occupation, a proclivity to choose high-risk partners, exceptional physical attributes or sheer bad luck, may find themselves revictimised on one or more occasions. Tjaden and Thoennes (1998) found that 9% of female and 8% of male victims claimed to have been stalked by two different individuals, and 1% of female and 2% of male victims reported being pursued by three different stalkers.

The impact of stalking on victims Helen Razer, an Australian radio broadcaster, columnist and comedienne, was stalked by a man with the delusional belief that she was his wife. Over several months, Ms Razer received a stream of disturbing letters and threatening telephone calls, was followed around town by her assailant and was approached on several occasions at her workplace during her live radio broadcasts. Her stalker had to be repeatedly ejected by her co-host. Ms Razer obtained a two-year restraining order against the man, prohibiting any further contact with her, but felt so terrorised by the experience and unsupported by many with whom she worked that she

suspended her successful broadcasting career. The radio host described severe panic attacks and bouts of depression as a consequence of the stalking, and she often felt unable to leave the house or talk to others. She remarked: I never wanted to turn into one of those paranoid, homeinvasional … type of people, but I have, and it’s sad to be so paranoid. Being stalked would shake anyone. It depends on the individual’s reaction but I just felt incapable of defending myself and I don’t know why. (Forte Magazine, 1 October 1998).

The studies presented in this chapter highlight the many facets of victims’ lives that may be affected by stalking. More systematic data from larger community surveys have lent support to the earlier, largely descriptive studies that highlighted the psychological and social damage inflicted on victims and other parties as a consequence of persistent stalking. Community surveys have enabled us to develop a more comprehensive understanding of the psychological reactions of stalking victims and to explore the trauma- and individualrelated factors associated with the development of traumatic morbidity. The psychological responses of victims of stalking have much in common with victims of other traumas, both man-made and natural. For victims of single, violent crimes, an initial acute stress disorder is common; this may or may not give rise over time to the development of stress-related symptoms currently conceptualised most frequently as PTSD. These stressrelated syndromes may also be associated with conditions such as depression, anxiety disorders and psychoactive substance abuse/dependence (Bisson & Shepherd, 1995). Research on the psychological effects of violent crime has focused particularly on the sequelae of sexual assaults on females. PTSD has been found in up to 80% of rape victims (Breslau et al., 1991). Lopez and colleagues (1992) reported that 38% of their survey sample of 436 rape victims met criteria for chronic PTSD and 71% suffered depressive disorders. The threat and uncertainty following the aftermath of a nuclear accident at Three Mile Island (TMI) in the USA in 1979 provided an opportunity to evaluate the psychological impact of a protracted stress situation not

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simply confined to the immediate period after the disaster itself was terminated (Baum et al., 1983). Research from the TMI disaster found that the ‘intensity and duration of stressors are necessary but insufficient to explain the persistence and dysfunction associated with stress’ (Baum et al., 1993, p. 278). Davidson and Baum (1986) noted that while the original environmental mishap at TMI ‘may not have been as intense or gruesome as natural disasters or combat, the continuation of sources of threat at TMI may have compensated by generating lasting consequences there’ (p. 306, emphasis added). This research provides evidence that adverse effects on functioning can occur if a person remains for an extended period in a situation where he or she feels under threat (Baum et al., 1983). It has been proposed by Baum and colleagues (1993) that ‘events involving loss of control and violation of expectations for control have different effects than do events that remind us of forces over which control was never expected’ (p. 279), such as earthquakes and other ungovernable natural forces. Trauma that involves loss of control further appears to generate more persistent disquiet than other stressors. Stress-resistance research has also shown a central role for social support, effective coping strategies and positive personality characteristics in stress-resistance and the maintenance of psychological health: ‘Under high stressors, adaptive personality characteristics and family support function prospectively as coping resources’ (Holahan & Moos, 1991, p. 36). Unlike many other criminal offences, stalking is distinguished by its repetition and persistence. The stalking victim is usually exposed to multiple forms of harassment, often involving threatening and traumatic incidents, the consequence of which may be chronic fear and apprehension. As evidenced in the reviewed victim studies, stalking characteristically produces in the victim hypervigilance and a pervasive sense of mistrust in others. Although in some instances this suspicion and caution are entirely appropriate, they can alienate victims from their usual and formerly valuable sources of support, leading to social isolation. Even the most robust of intimate relationships and friendships can be severely tested by the persistent intrusions of a stalker, together with the victim’s reaction to such activities.

The victim may be further isolated by virtue of the stalker’s effect on their occupational functioning, leading in some cases to the destruction of the victim’s career. Abrams and Robinson (2002) reported the case of a woman who was dismissed from her job for deficient work performance and poor attendance consequent upon stalking by a former intimate. This case demonstrated the multitude of ways in which stalking can impede a victim’s job performance, by interfering directly with the victim’s capacity to attend work (e.g. damaging the victim’s vehicle), by compromising the safety of the workplace (e.g. by the stalker phoning work repeatedly or arriving there unannounced), or through a stress-related decline in the victim’s mental and/or physical health. The study by Pathé and Mullen (1997) also noted that being stalked is time-consuming, and additional demands, such as attendances at police stations and courts and appointments with lawyers and doctors, may diminish a victim’s reliability and productivity. The constellation of symptoms that comprise the diagnosis of PTSD – avoidance, intrusive memories, numbing of responses and excessive arousal – well captures the psychological sequelae in many instances of stalking. As a diagnostic entity, PTSD also valuably emphasises the chronic nature of mental disorder or disturbance that can be produced by exposure to traumatic stressors. However, the current conceptualisation of post-traumatic stress by the American Psychiatric Association is somewhat restrictive in that it allows for psychological decompensation following only a discrete or relatively circumscribed traumatic event that threatens or actually harms one’s physical integrity. This conceptualisation fails to acknowledge the psychological distress produced by prolonged trauma and repeated victimisation, as in stalking, which, although not necessarily involving explicit threats to one’s physical being, is clearly no less damaging to the victim’s mental health. Herman (1992) coined the term complex trauma syndrome to describe a disorder that is more multifarious, severe and enduring than DSM-defined PTSD. Complex PTSD, also referred to as disorders of extreme stress (DES) or disorders of extreme stress not otherwise specified (DESNOS) (van der Kolk et al., 1996),

The impact of stalking on victims

encompasses ‘systematic and pathological changes in the victim’s affect regulation, consciousness, selfperception, identity, perception of the perpetrator, relations to others, and system of meaning’ (Ebert & Dyck, 2004). The symptoms of complex PTSD are typically encountered in the context of severe traumatic events involving coercive control. Such control may be established through physical force, or a combination of physical, psychological, social or economic means. Totalitarian control characterises many stalking situations as well as certain other types of multiple, severe, prolonged interpersonal trauma (e.g. child sexual abuse and torture). Effectively entrapped in an aversive situation as a result of human rather than natural causes, and subject to repeated intentional harm, the stalking victim experiences helplessness, powerlessness and a loss of self-determination. Their beliefs regarding personal agency and autonomy are undermined, as is their view of the world, especially in relation to safety, predictability and justice. Stalking victims face increasing alienation born of distrust and their subverted belief in social order, their dwindling selfefficacy and a mounting sense of futility. This state has been termed mental defeat (Ehlers et al., 2000) or mental exhaustion (Wenzel et al., 2000). Indeed, Ebert and Dyck have argued that a crucial factor determining whether a person develops a more severe and complex form of post-trauma stress syndrome is the extent to which the precipitating trauma causes ‘mental death’, the essence of which is ‘the loss of identity, defined as the perception of sameness and continuity of the self – and the self in relation to others – based on the relative constancy of one’s assumptions, beliefs, values, attitudes, and behaviour’. Symptoms that characterise mental death, including guilt and shame, distrust and estrangement from others, loss of autonomy and constriction of initiative, the collapse of core beliefs and values, and a sense of being irreparably damaged, are all too familiar to many victims of stalking. Clearly not all stalking victims develop traumatic stress symptoms, and research has begun to consider the stressor-related and individual (vulnerability) variables that predict traumatic impact. Kamphuis and colleagues (2003) compared 131 female post-intimate stalking victims drawn from the Dutch Anti-Stalking

Foundation (see Kamphuis & Emmelkamp, 2001) with a normal control group of female undergraduate psychology students. The psychological reactions of this subgroup of stalking victims were ascertained using the Traumatic Constellation Identification Scale (TCIS: Dansky et al., 1990), which assesses a range of cognitive and affective correlates of stressful life events. The relative traumatic impact of specific stalking-related variables and individual psychological variables was also measured. Eighty-seven per cent of this post-intimate stalking victim sample met the criterion for ‘caseness’ on the Dutch adaptation of the Impact of Event Scale (Horowitz et al., 1979). Victims reported prominent affective reactions, especially fear, shame and a sense of loss, as well as reduced trust in others, a heightened sense of isolation and alienation, and attributions of self-blame. The cognitive and affective responses of these victims were markedly elevated compared to normal controls, which included ‘normals’ who had previously experienced sexual violence. About 22% of the variance in post-traumatic stress (as measured by the IES) was explained by variations in the stalking severity (using the indices of stalking duration, range of non-violent intrusions, and violence), and 8% of the variance was explained by psychological (individual vulnerability) factors (measured by personality factor and coping-style inventories). Most predictive of subsequent post-traumatic stress was repeated exposure to violence, with non-violent indices of stalking severity exerting a smaller influence on the development of symptoms. The psychosocial variable most likely to predict poorer psychological adjustment and greater post-traumatic symptomatology was a passive–avoidant coping style. Predictors were not assessed prospectively in this study, so no claims could be made regarding the direction of causality. As previously noted, there is ample anecdotal evidence that severe harassment drastically alters the victim’s assumptive world, diminishing their appraisals of their inner resources and their control over the stalking. Such appraisals lead to a perception of uncontrollability and diminished active coping. In the Mannheim survey (Dressing et al., 2005) all respondents completed a six-item psychological dependency scale. Those with a history of being stalked

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had higher scores than their non-victimised counterparts, inviting similar interpretations that individuals with lower levels of independence and difficulties in setting boundaries might be more vulnerable to a stalker’s intrusions. However, the authors acknowledge that since the direction of causality could not be determined in this cross-sectional study, these scores may actually point to a greater psychological dependency in stalking victims as a consequence of the undermining effect of stalking on self-confidence and self-determination. It is evident that current nosologies are an inadequate means of conceptualising the impact of stalking-related trauma. The symptoms of exposure to coercive control tend to be treated as supplementary to the DSM- or ICD-defined post-trauma syndrome rather than a distinct post-trauma syndrome. Research that is limited to assessing DSM-defined PTSD symptoms in stalking victim populations has largely failed to distinguish noncomplex post-trauma syndromes from more severe, complex presentations of PTSD. Such distinctions are important to any consideration of the likely course and severity of post-traumatic stress symptoms in stalking victim populations. Dunmore and others (1999) have for instance noted the detrimental impact of mental defeat upon the trauma victim’s post-trauma functioning. A more sophisticated conceptualisation of post-trauma syndromes is of particular relevance to treatment approaches, as will be discussed in Chapter 22. Finally, victim studies have also emphasised the variety of coping mechanisms employed by stalking victims. One strategy in particular, acquiescing to the stalker’s demands to establish or re-establish a relationship, is frequently misinterpreted by others. Such apparent capitulation may be perceived as weakness or lack of resolve on the victim’s part, or evidence that the stalking allegations were exaggerated or unfounded. While a reunion may be prompted by the victim’s ambivalent feelings towards the stalker, it is more common in our experience for victims to yield to their stalker because they can see no other option. They hope that their compliance will assuage the stalker’s anger and diminish the threat posed to the victim and other parties, or at the very least appease the stalker as

other exit strategies are contemplated (see also Cantor & Price, 2007). While this tactic may seem illogical and even perilous, it represents a viable solution for forsaken victims when alternative measures have repeatedly failed. In other cases the dynamics underlying victim submission are more complex. As noted earlier, the repetitive infliction of severe interpersonal trauma can isolate the victim and destroy their autonomy, initiative and trust in others. Increasing constriction in their capacity for active engagement with the world leads to greater passivity and helplessness. The perpetrator becomes the most powerful person in the victim’s world, fostering a pathological attachment to the stalker (Herman, 1992). This ‘traumatic bonding’, exemplified in the relationship between captor and hostage and between battered women and their abusers (Dutton & Painter, 1981) has been described as ‘an enforced regression to “psychological infantilism” which compels victims to cling to the very person who is endangering their life’ (Symonds, 1982). The following case of ex-intimate stalking illustrates this debility and pathological dependence. CASE EXAMPLE Jane, a 45-year-old secretary, was stalked for six years by a former boyfriend. Her two-year relationship with the 40-yearold labourer was characterised by his alcohol and marijuana abuse, physical assaultiveness and jealous rages. He assumed control over most aspects of her life, progressively destroying her existing network of friends and family by denigrating them and preventing contact with them. He sabotaged the job she had held for 15 years (by destroying files in her care) and prevented her from pursuing further employment. He threatened her male acquaintances, damaging the car of one who dared to drive her home. He controlled her bank account, her wardrobe, her choice of medical practitioner and hairdresser and even her diet. Jane made multiple attempts to end the relationship but he phoned or approached her at all times of the day and night, pledging his undying devotion and begging her to reconsider. The more determined her resistance, the more dogged was his retaliation, which included dousing her car upholstery with acid, slashing her car tyres, upending the neighbourhood rubbish bins across her driveway, and collecting and shredding her dry-cleaning. Although Jane succeeded in obtaining a restraining order the harassment escalated and little Jane could say or do brought any assertive action from the police.

Conclusions

Jane felt isolated, helpless and forsaken. Her family and friends were critical of her poor choice of men and she perceived that the police blamed her also. She felt guilty, ashamed and depressed. She lived in a state of dread, and said that she didn’t know who she was any more, or how she should eat or dress. Often, her stalker would drop by and leave a hamburger at the front door. Although she had no appetite she felt strangely grateful and retrieved it. She became aware that he was probably camping in her garage but felt powerless to intervene. She even left some blankets and cushions there. She rationalised, ‘He had become a part of my life and I was a part of his and I really thought nothing was ever going to change that.’ When her stalker confronted her one evening with a machete, however, and attempted to drag her into his car, Jane was rescued by a neighbour. The police and courts were now persuaded of the gravity of the situation, and the perpetrator was remanded in custody. He subsequently received a three-year prison term for stalking and related offences. Although the threat had been removed, Jane’s stalker had become a part of her inner life and she remained preoccupied with him. She assumed responsibility for his imprisonment and all the suffering she imagined he would have to endure. She fretted on his birthday, and felt remorse for the loss she had inflicted on his friends and family. She claimed her life felt strangely incomplete without him, likening him to a ‘phantom limb’. Therapy is gradually helping Jane to reconstitute social ties, enhance her debased self-image and recover some initiative. Jane admits that she still frequently thinks about her stalker and wonders how he is faring, but he no longer monopolises her attention.

Conclusions Victims of stalking typically describe feelings of violation, a profound sense of loss of control over their lives and a pervasive mistrust of others. They commonly employ terms such as ‘emotional rape’ and ‘psychological terrorism’ in defining their ordeal. The effects of stalking are often experienced long after the stalker has withdrawn, the residue of ongoing fear and vulnerability characteristic of most stalking victims’ stress response. These effects may and often do impact on those affiliated with the primary victim. Given the prevalence of stalking behaviours within our community and the extent of the damage they leave in their wake, the plight of the stalking victim must be recognised as a legitimate concern for mental health practitioners and the criminal justice system. But the problem of stalking must also be acknowledged as a legitimate concern for society as a whole, not only because of the considerable cost of supporting victims who can no longer work and who may have long-term healthcare needs but because virtually every one of us is a potential victim of stalking, irrespective of our age, gender, occupation, sexual orientation, race, religion or socioeconomic status. As we have found, even stalkers can fall victim to other stalkers. In Chapter 22 we will present strategies and interventions that aim to minimise the chances of falling victim to a stalker and the personal and societal cost to those who do.

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5 Stalking typologies and classifications

Introduction Classifications should not simply facilitate communication by giving names to items in a previously undistinguished landscape, but should both articulate relationships between conceptually similar groups and tell us something about what can be expected of each class. Classifications are in part creatures of convenience which emerge within particular discourses, and they reflect not only the qualities of the things being classified but also the imperatives which operate in those discourses. In medicine, for example, classifications are generally diagnostic, being constructed on the basis of cause, course, outcome and where possible treatment. Diagnosis is used as a guide to prognosis and management. Diagnostic systems are usually subservient to those ends rather than to the purely theoretical goal of establishing mutually exclusive sets where membership in a given set, or class, is absolute, with no room for vagueness or ambiguity. In any practical pursuit, such as those in which mental health professionals engage, classifications should serve the goals of the professional’s clinical activities, not just the purer theoretical aims of the sciences they mediate. Classifications of stalkers are likely to vary according to the needs of the group seeking to articulate the classification. For example, law enforcement officers, mental health professionals and advocates for the victims of domestic violence all have legitimate concerns with stalking and stalkers, and thus they have each evolved classifications which both further their ends and can be readily reconciled with the technical languages they habitually employ. Even within the mental health professions

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the classification of stalkers has been subject to differing priorities arising from the particular goals and theoretical commitments of the specific professional group or individual. In the absence of any comprehensive explanatory theory of stalking, numerous typologies have flourished. To date, over 20 different stalker typologies have been proposed (see Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007, for a review). Most of these can be separated into three broad categories: those that classify according to an underlying mental disorder; those that classify according to the stalker’s prior relationship with the victim; and those that classify according to the primary motivation for stalking. This chapter will examine a number of these classifications and attempt to examine the assumptions and imperatives underlying such divisions. Finally, a typology which is primarily motivational, though acknowledging the relational and psychopathological dimensions, will be outlined.

Classifying stalking as a corollary of domestic violence Those concerned with stalking as an integral part of violence against women have constructed the phenomena specifically in those terms (Coleman, 1997; ABS, 1996). Walker and Meloy (1998) claimed that stalking was simply the name given to a combination of activities that batterers indulge in to force their female partners to remain in a relationship. In short, stalking was constructed as a strategy of intimidation and control used by men within the realm of domestic violence.

Classifying stalkers on the basis of an underlying mental disorder

The focus of any subsequent classification is on the nature and extent of intimidation and on how best to predict, and thus hopefully prevent, the risks of escalation to even more serious, or possibly murderous, violence. The focus on domestic violence as the context and corollary of stalking focuses predominantly, if not always exclusively, on women as victims and men as perpetrators (Burgess et al., 1997). Sonkin (1997) differentiates between the ex-partner who is having problems relinquishing a relationship and the angry, vindictive, controlling and potentially violent stalker. Given that the priorities in work with victims of domestic violence must be the protection of victims, it is entirely appropriate to deconstruct stalking into a series of acts of varying actual and implied threat (Sonkin, 1997). There is no question that the behaviours associated with stalking can and do emerge among cohabitating partners, often in the context of jealousy, both morbid and otherwise (White & Mullen, 1989; Buss, 1994; Mullen & Martin 1994; Silva et al., 2000). Usually this is confined to information gathering via following and surveillance, confronting the spouse/partner for alleged indiscretions, or verbal haranguing in the form of accusations or threats. But whether such behaviour in these circumstances should be deemed stalking is more dubious. Irrespective of whether the intent is malicious or benign, the aim of most stalking is to make one’s presence felt where otherwise it would not exist. It is difficult to conceive how stalking could apply in those circumstances where the protagonists continue to live together. We are aware that our distinction between stalking and domestic violence is not shared by some of our colleagues in the United States, who argue that if stalking behaviours occur between partners in the context of a current intimate relationship, then this constitutes stalking. While we understand this position, and the concern for victims that underlies it, we nonetheless believe that these situations reflect a broader pattern of domestic abuse and should be responded to as such. In our experience, the approaches to assessing and managing stalking which are discussed in Chapter 22 are simply not effective when the victim and perpetrator continue to cohabit.

Classifying stalking as a form of domestic violence – and, by extension, a women’s issue – has obvious appeal and relevance among those whose work is primarily concerned with male violence against women. However, for those concerned with stalking in all its many and varied forms, this approach is far too restrictive and runs the risk of deflecting already scant resources away from victims of non-intimate harassment, or even male victims of this crime. The results of one study conducted in the USA indicate that this may already be happening (Spence-Diehl & Potocky-Tripodi, 2001).

Classifying stalkers on the basis of an underlying mental disorder Zona, Sharma and Lane (1993) were the first to advance a classification of stalkers. They based their typology on reviews of firstly 74 and later a further 126 case files processed by the Los Angeles Police Department’s Threat Management Unit (TMU) (Zona et al., 1993, 1996, 1998). The TMU was the first unit of its kind established specifically to investigate the behaviour of people said to demonstrate what they labelled ‘an obsessional or abnormal long-term pattern of threat or harassment’. The TMU’s establishment was prompted by the high proportion of entertainment figures within the Los Angeles area attracting the unwanted attentions of stalkers. On the basis of the nature of the subject’s assumed preoccupation and prior relationship with their victim, the authors identified three groups of stalkers, which they termed the erotomanic, the love obsessional, and the simple obsessional. The erotomanic group met DSM-III-R criteria for delusional (paranoid) disorder, erotomanic type. This grouping encompassed only those subjects who were absolutely convinced that they were loved by those they were stalking. None of these subjects had a prior relationship with their victim, and as a group they almost exclusively focused their amorous attentions upon those in the entertainment industry. Those they termed the love obsessionals, like the erotomanic grouping, consisted to some extent of individuals who harboured delusions that they were loved by their victim. In contrast to the erotomanic type, however, this group’s

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delusions arose secondarily as part of a more extensive psychotic illness (most frequently schizophrenia or bipolar disorder), rather than manifesting as a pure or primary delusional syndrome. Also included in the love obsessional group were those who were said to show an intense infatuation with the object of their unwanted attentions but not to claim that their love was reciprocated. Unlike the erotomanic grouping, the majority of love obsessionals were male. Both the erotomanic and the love obsessional categories were reported to share a common fascination with media figures, frequently choosing young female ‘bombshells’ as the targets of their ardent affections. Like the erotomanic group, the love obsessionals had no prior relationship with their victim. It was on this basis of no prior relationship that the love obsessional grouping was separated from the final group, the simple obsessionals (n = 35). This simple obsessional group were reported to have pursued victims with whom they had had previous contact. Their victims were typically ex-intimate partners, but included neighbours, casual acquaintances, workmates and professional contacts. Males and females were equally represented among stalkers in this simple obsessional grouping, and they had usually commenced their pursuit after a relationship had ‘gone sour’. It appears, however, that this group also encompassed individuals who stalked in revenge for perceived mistreatment, and whose motivations were primarily the extraction of retribution for injustices they believed had been inflicted upon them. Zona and colleagues (1993, 1998) approached the classification of stalking from the dual perspectives of psychiatry and law enforcement. The subjects of their studies were drawn particularly from the stalkers of the rich and famous. These authors clearly recognised that stalking was not confined to the harassment of celebrities, though they had perforce to focus to a significant degree on those who stalk people with whom they have had no, or only the slightest, of relationships and who are engaged in establishing or asserting a fantasised relationship. This contrasts with the stalking subjects of those in the domestic violence field who deal with individuals, almost exclusively male, who are bent on controlling, retaining, regaining or frankly terrorising their present or prior partner. The commitments of

the researchers and the use to which they intend to put their classification inevitably, and quite properly, directs the nature of the classification produced.

Psychotic versus non-psychotic The typology of Kienlen et al. (1997) divided 25 stalkers into two groups simply on the basis of whether they were, or were not, psychotic. Several differences were noted in the patterns of pursuit employed by the psychotic and non-psychotic groups. Psychotic stalkers were more likely to visit the home of their victim, but were somewhat less inclined to send letters or keep their victims under surveillance. Non-psychotic stalkers more often verbally threatened and also were at higher risk of perpetrating an assault. One non-psychotic stalker was reported to have eventually kidnapped his ex-partner at gunpoint, at which point he melodramatically informed her that he could no longer live without her and asked her to end his misery by stabbing him in the heart with a knife. She declined the invitation. In contrast, only one psychotic stalker assaulted his victim (a parent). Nearly 50% of the non-psychotic group possessed a weapon at the time of the stalking (seven had a firearm and one a knife), compared to only one psychotic stalker, who brandished a metal pipe obtained in the course of damaging the victim’s property. The authors concluded on the basis of these findings not only that non-psychotic stalkers show a greater propensity for violence than the psychotic, but that they are more calculating and resourceful in their use of such violence. Kienlen and colleagues’ (1997) classification was developed to serve the purposes of mental health professionals preparing court evaluations, and it reflects the imperatives of those purposes. Employing a simple dichotomy between psychotic and non-psychotic is certainly parsimonious and has an appeal to both mental health professionals, where the division has potential management implications, and lawyers, where it has some relevance to issues of criminal responsibility. The problem with the classification is that it cuts across issues of stalker motivation and choice of victim which can be critical for predicting both the nature and dimension of stalking and the risks of escalation

Classifying stalkers by nature of prior relationship and/or motivation

to violence. Conversely, the psychotic/non-psychotic division can claim sufficient utility to be considered a candidate for constituting one axis in a more complex classification.

Classifying stalkers by nature of prior relationship and/or motivation The nature of the prior relationship between the stalker and victim, and the stalker’s motivation for pursuit, have been the primary dimensions for analysing stalking (see Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007, for a review). Harmon and colleagues (1995) proposed a classification which distinguished stalkers according to the nature of the attachment between the perpetrator and the object of attention, as well as the prior relationship with the victim. The authors reviewed the case files of subjects who had been referred to the Forensic Psychiatry Clinic of the Criminal and Supreme Courts of New York following charges of criminal harassment or menacing. Forty-eight subjects exhibited the type of repetitive intrusions and communications associated with stalking. The authors’ first axis related to the nature of the attachment between the subject and the object of their attention (either affectionate/amorous or persecutory/angry) and the second axis described the nature of the prior relationship (personal, professional, employment, media, acquaintance, none or unknown). The majority of stalkers in this sample exhibited what the authors describe as an affectionate/amorous attachment to their victims (n = 30). Diagnostically, these stalkers consisted predominantly of patients with erotomanic features, although subjects with narcissistic and paranoid personality traits who stalked ex-intimate partners were also represented. Those with an amorous attachment were said to not infrequently victimise third parties who had been perceived to be attempting to foil the budding relationship between the stalker and the object of their affection. In one example provided by Harmon et al. (1995) a 39-year-old woman with erotomania formed an amorous attachment to a veterinarian, believing that they had had prior sexual liaisons. She flooded the unsuspecting vet with more than 500 telephone calls and threatening letters, later harassing

his staff and family, whom she perceived as obstructing their imagined love. This woman was particularly aggrieved by the veterinarian’s secretary, who she believed was having an affair with the object of her disordered love. She approached the surgery on one occasion and lunged at the vet and his secretary with a knife, though fortunately failed to inflict any serious harm. She had been arrested five times for this ongoing harassment, which had persisted for over eight years. Though all subjects within the affectionate/amorous division commenced their pursuit with romantic if not frankly sexual intentions, their emotions were described as on occasion turning to anger and persecution when rejection occurred. This was illustrated in another case history provided of a man who had been referred to the clinic on 11 occasions. For over 10 years this 47-year-old had stalked and harassed a well-known singer. He claimed that she was once a passenger in his taxi, that they had had sex, and that the woman had put a hex on him which forced him to pursue her (Harmon et al., 1995). Stalking among those in the persecutory/angry category was reported as typically emerging following a real or imagined mistreatment or injury, and often occurred in the context of a business or professional relationship. The objects of attention for these subjects were not only individuals, but frequently large institutions, which placed multiple victims at risk of harassment or violence. One example provided was of a 59-year-old man who had indiscriminately stalked various solicitors and associated staff from a law firm that had unsuccessfully represented him nearly two decades earlier. The stalkers in the persecutory/angry grouping covered a more diverse spectrum in terms of their psychiatric diagnoses than the amorous group, encompassing not only those with delusional illnesses, but also mood or adjustment disorders and personality disorders. One particular stalker, a former professional basketball player, reported as characteristic of this group, was described as narcissistic. He had harassed and intimidated his former girlfriend through repeated offensive telephone calls. Referred to the court clinic, he claimed that he did not need psychiatric evaluation or treatment, nor could he understand why making such telephone calls was inappropriate, let alone criminal.

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The classification of Harmon and colleagues (1995) provides a meaningful framework from which to approach the motivations of stalkers and the nature of their attachment to their victim. Unfortunately it did not provide an adequate means of distinguishing the pursuit characteristics of subjects. Though the subjects in the affectionate/amorous category were more likely to be single, the groups did not differ according to age, gender, ethnicity, education, criminal charges or psychiatric diagnoses. Furthermore, subjects in both groups showed the same propensity for seeking physical contact with their victims and making threats of violence, although there was a greater association between threats and actual assault in the amorous group. It is also limited in that, not infrequently, stalkers fluctuate between angry, vengeful intentions and largely benign intentions. Harmon et al. (1995) recognise that an initially amorous attachment may evolve into anger as a result of what is regarded as betrayal or rejection. This does not, however, deal with the fundamental ambivalence which can characterise stalkers’ intentions and feelings from the very outset. More recently, Mohandie and colleagues (2006) advanced a typology of stalking they termed RECON. The authors specified from the outset key criteria that guided the design and conceptualisation of their classification. They argued that any useful typology of stalkers needed to be parsimonious (in order to avoid unnecessary confusion or overlap between groupings) and reliable (in order to ensure consistency in the assignment of a stalker to a particular grouping), and that it must have high temporal validity and be applicable to a variety of audiences, including mental health, law enforcement and criminal justice professionals, as well as ‘victims’ rights activists’, although curiously the authors did not consider stalking victims themselves as a potential audience for their typology. The acronym RECON refers to the two axes on which the classification is based, namely the nature of the relationship with the victim (or lack thereof), and the private- versus public-figure context of the stalking. This classification specifically excluded motivation and mental disorder, on the basis that these factors are mutable and dynamic, and therefore compromise the criteria of stability and reliability.

The RECON typology broadly identifies two ‘types’ of stalking, which yield four stalker categories. Type I denotes a previous relationship between the stalker and victim, which is sub-categorised as either intimate (casual or established sexual or romantic relationship) or acquaintance (which includes friends, co-workers etc). Type II indicates no – or very limited – contact with the victim, and is sub-categorised on the basis of the victim being either a public figure or a private stranger. To assess the interrater reliability and discriminant validity of the typology, Mohandie et al. (2006) assembled 1005 stalking or domestic violence cases from multiple sources. Roughly a third were derived from the files of a US entertainment firm’s security department, a third from the files of a Canadian police agency, and a third from Californian prosecutors’ offices. The remainder were the authors’ own cases. Stalking was defined as two or more unwanted contacts that created reasonable fear in the target. The interrater reliability of assignment to the four RECON categories was 0.95, although assignment simply to two categories of mental illness among stalkers – ‘suspected diagnosis’ or ‘no mental health issues apparent’ – was 0.85. On the basis of the RECON typology, half the 1005 cases were classed as intimate (50%), 13% as acquaintance, 27% as public figure and 10% as private stranger. The rates of stalking involving intimates and public figures are considerably higher than those observed in other studies (e.g. Harmon et al., 1995, 1998; Meloy & Gothard, 1995; Pathé & Mullen, 1997), although this reflects the sampling frame, since domestic violence and celebrity protection files were utilised as primary data sources. Consistent with earlier studies, intimate stalkers in the sample used by Mohandie et al. were more likely than all other groups to seek frequent, direct contact with the victim, and to threaten and assault the victim (including assaults with weapons). In contrast, those who pursued public figures were the most likely of all groups to engage in indirect methods of contact with the target, and to be psychotic, and the least likely to utter threats or commit violence. Mohandie and colleagues (2006) constructed their typology to appeal to mental health as well as law enforcement professionals. In this regard, management

Behaviour-based models

approaches discussed for their stalker types is, in most instances, a combination of psychiatric treatment and criminal justice sanctions. The exception is the management of intimate stalkers, for whom the authors curiously recommend only the use of intensive probation or parole conditions. Indeed they state that ‘risk management should emphasize … the minimal effectiveness of psychotherapy or pharmacotherapy’ (p. 153) with the intimate group, despite commenting that depression likely contributes to this form of stalking, along with ‘insecure attachment and … diagnosable personality disorder’ (p. 153). The RECON typology meets the stated purpose of being a relatively uncomplicated method of classification with adequate discriminant validity. However, as the authors acknowledge, the results are generalisable only to stalkers who come into contact with law enforcement or private security companies. The applicability to mental health professionals and victims’ rights activists is more questionable. The major limitation of the RECON is the decision to exclude any consideration of the stalker’s motivation for the pursuit, on the basis that this is too dynamic a factor to usefully inform any typology. Pinals (2007), for example, insists that a stalker’s initial motivation for pursuit (e.g. resentment, romantic attachment) should determine classification, regardless of any shift in the nature of the context. The nature of the prior relationship has now been shown to be a critical aspect of any classification, even if in isolation it is insufficient. Consider for example an employee who harasses a manager. Under RECON, this would be categorised as acquaintance stalking. This type of stalking is associated with a number of outcomes, perhaps most notably a relatively low rate of assault (Mohandie et al., 2006). Knowing the nature of the prior relationship in this case can provide practical information that may ease some of the victim’s concerns, but it offers little in the way of specific strategies to effectively end the harassment. Any comprehensive classification of stalkers should not only assist in the assessment of risk, but should also inform the development of optimal clinical treatment and/or management plans for that type of stalker. Taking this example of the employee and manager further, consider the following scenarios. In the first,

the employee holds a delusional belief of an intimate relationship with the manager. Psychotropic medication and cognitive behavioural therapy would be warranted to manage the delusions, although law enforcement intervention without such mental health treatment would be unlikely to stop the stalking (see Chapter 7). In the second scenario, the employee stalks out of resentment, based on the belief that the manager unjustifiably failed to support an application for promotion. In this instance, the resentment may be impervious to many forms of mental health treatment, but the perpetrator is likely to cease the behaviour when confronted with police intervention (see Chapter 6). In both scenarios, the stalker can be classified as an acquaintance, but the motivation for the behaviour is vastly different and requires a different management response. Unfortunately, in aiming for parsimony, the RECON typology is perhaps too narrow in focus to effectively assist the needs of the various audiences for which it was putatively designed.

Behaviour-based models Canter and Ioannou (2004) attempted to derive a multivariate model of stalking behaviours. They examined the records of 50 cases from the LAPD’s Threat Management Unit, though how the cases were selected is not revealed. The sample contained 10 celebrities (20%), 24 ex-intimates, 12 acquaintances and only four strangers. Though the nature of the sample reflects the work of this particular threat management unit, which serves in part the Hollywood elites, nevertheless the approach is sufficiently novel to justify careful consideration. The authors’ focus is on the interpersonal behaviours which make up stalking. They note 24 behavioural variables, which are worth reproducing, because few publications itemise such behaviours. The behavioural variables, with the frequencies found in brackets, were: 1. Phone calls (76%) 2. Sending letters (46%) 3. Public defamation through posting notices, graffiti etc (28%) 4. Sending gifts (28%)

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5. Initiating obscene or sexually explicit communications (32%) 6. Threats and abuse (80%) 7. Asking personal details (16%) 8. Soliciting contact (42%) 9. Revealing knowledge about the victim acquired from enquiry or surveillance (12%) 10. Stealing personal property (24%) 11. Destroying personal property (32%) 12. Confrontations involving threats (52%) 13. Threats to commit suicide (18%) 14. Following or visiting the victim at their home or place of work (78%) 15. Keeping under surveillance (44%) 16. Gaining illicit access to the victim’s home (46%) 17. Making threats or abusing the victim’s family members, colleagues or friends (10%) 18. Violence (physical) to the victim (42%) 19. Breaking a restraining order (50%) 20. Contact after intervention (52%) 21. Threats to others (40%) 22. Driving by the victim’s home or workplace repeatedly (14%) 23. Contacting those connected to the victim (40%) 24. Researching the victim via accessing records and public archives (16%) The list makes clear that this is a particularly busy, intrusive, troublesome and violent sample of stalkers. The authors use these behaviours to explore possible patterns of behaviour, suggesting that they can be organised into four offender–victim modes of interaction: the sexual, the intimate, the possessive, and the aggressive destructive. They suggest there are no totally distinct types of stalker but that ‘stalking seems to have common roots in a mixture of psychological processes that include frustration, aggression and the desire to control the target.’ Perhaps the special nature of their sample and its small size may have contributed to the failure to identify any separable patterns.

Law enforcement perspectives Several classifications of stalkers have been advanced primarily to assist law enforcement and investigation,

including the prediction of future violence. For example, Schwartz-Watts and colleagues (1997, 1998) conducted studies comparing stalkers to other violent offenders. Their initial study (1997) compared the records of 18 males charged with stalking in the State of South Carolina, who had been evaluated pre-trial, with a group of offenders randomly matched for age, sex and whether violence accompanied the crime. In their second study the authors compared the medical records of 42 pre-trial detainees charged with stalking, who were divided on the basis of whether their stalking involved violence (n = 20) or not (n = 22). The groups did not differ significantly on age, sex, marital status, education, substance abuse history, Axis I diagnosis or organicity. Violent stalkers were reported to be more likely to have had a prior intimate relationship with the victim. The attempt to distinguish stalkers on the basis of their risks of future violence is important, but it may be that it is better regarded as a measure of the adequacy of any proposed classification rather than constituting a classification in and of itself. Wright and colleagues (1996), who are affiliated with the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), advanced a preliminary classification of stalkers on the basis of 30 reports which were provided, in the main, by victims. On the basis of their responses, the authors formulated a typology of stalkers related to the nature of the relationship between the victim and the stalker (domestic or non-domestic), the content of the communications (non-delusional or delusional), the level of risk to the victim in terms of aggression (low, medium, high), the motive of the stalker (infatuation, possession, anger/retaliation, other) and the outcome of the case for the stalker (legal, suicide, psychiatric, other). Under this classification, 14 subjects were classed as nondomestic stalkers (predominantly non-delusional/ organised) and 16 as domestic stalkers (all but one non-delusional). Domestic stalkers were not only intimate partners and family members, but could include workmates. Twelve stalkers were deemed to be motivated by anger or the desire for retaliation, 10 were motivated by possessiveness, six by infatuation, and for two the motivation was not specified. Seven committed suicide (an extraordinary mortality rate of over 20%) and only four were given psychiatric help (mostly

Law enforcement perspectives

committed under mental health legislation on the grounds of insanity). This was a highly selected group, as evidenced not only by the high rate of suicide but also by six of the 30 instances of stalking culminating in murder (it is not clear in these cases when or by whom the victim survey was completed). The elements of the classification have face validity, but the small size and peculiar nature of the sample make generalisation to more representative groups of stalkers problematic. Gavin de Becker, a US specialist in private security often called upon to assist celebrities and corporations, also approaches stalking from a law enforcement perspective. De Becker has proposed four types of stalkers based primarily on their presumed motivation: attachment-seekers, identity-seekers, rejection-based and delusion-based (cited in Orion, 1997). Stalkers in the attachment group are seeking to attain a relationship with the victim, while recognising that none exists (the example offered being that of John Hinckley, who persistently pursued the actress Jodie Foster). Identityseekers reportedly pursue the object of their attention as a means to achieve some other end, in most instances attention (an example being Mark Chapman, who unfortunately achieved tremendous fame and notoriety by murdering John Lennon). The rejection-based stalker is driven by the desire to seek revenge for having been spurned by his or her target, who may be an exintimate partner or an estranged workmate or friend. Finally, the delusion-based group in all instances are said to have a major mental illness in which delusions, or other erroneous beliefs, drive their pursuits. This classification also has considerable face validity and appeal, although to date it has not been elaborated to any extent in the available literature. Boon & Sheridan (2002; see also Sheridan & Boon, 2002) proffered a classification for the purpose of assisting the investigation and the management of stalkers. The authors based their typology on a database of 124 stalking cases, the bulk of the information again derived from victim reports. Four groups were proposed: expartner harassment/stalking, infatuation harassment, delusional-fixation stalking and sadistic stalking. The first type, ex-partner harassment/stalking, encompassed hostile, impulsive individuals who were prone to threatening and physically assaulting their victims,

and who often possessed a ‘lack of concern’ regarding both their behaviour and the likelihood of attracting police attention. The infatuation-harassment group consisted of individuals who yearned for a relationship with a ‘beloved’ who had captured their attention. This type of pursuit was reportedly characterised by nonmalicious methods of communication (e.g. letters, notes or gifts) and ‘low levels of danger’. The delusionalfixation stalking group involved mentally disordered individuals who fixed their attentions on strangers and known acquaintances. Within this category, subdivisions of ‘non-dangerous’ and ‘dangerous’ perpetrators were proposed, the latter being more likely to have a history of prior offending (often of a sexual nature) and comorbid personality disturbance. The final group, termed sadistic stalkers, were said to be driven by a desire to control, ‘spoil’ or otherwise unnerve their victims, their behaviour being sustained by the gratifying sense of power they derived from their intimidation. These stalkers pursued both known acquaintances and strangers and, not surprisingly given their title, were prone to threatening and violent outbursts. This typology usefully attempts to elucidate the aims and behavioural patterns of stalkers, which is certainly likely to have particular resonance within law enforcement, their target audience. The degree of overlap between the groupings is a potential limitation, however (e.g. there being little material difference between the characteristics and motivations of vengeful expartners and ‘sadistic’ stalkers, or between the infatuated suitor and the non-dangerous delusional group), with the absence of information regarding the specific management of these groups (even from a policing perspective) the most obvious shortcoming. Douglas and colleagues (2006), in their Crime Classification Manual, which attempts to generate a standardised system for investigating and classifying violent crimes, suggested a tripartite division: 1. Domestic stalkers, including ex-partners, relatives and ‘household members’. They suggest that domestic stalking ‘often culminates in a violent attack’. The attack is usually impetuous, may ‘culminate in the target’s death’, and the stalker ‘may commit suicide’ at the scene of an attack on the victim. Victims ‘often’ describe a history of domestic violence.

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2. Non-domestic stalkers, where the stalker is a stranger. The stalking is ‘an ongoing, usually long-term crime’. 3. Erotomanic stalkers, who are motivated by ‘fixation’ expressed commonly in fantasies of ‘fusion (a blending of his personality in the target’s) or of a romantic love, or even of a religious and spiritual nature’. The target ‘often has high media visibility’. It is suggested that over time the stalker’s attitude shifts to one of ‘if I can’t have her no one can’, which may culminate in an attack or even killing. This approach to stalking only makes sense in terms of the most extreme and violent manifestations of the problem behaviour which have forced themselves on the attention of the law enforcement agencies. It fits ill with the realities of the vast majority of stalking situations.

Classification employed in this book Elsewhere (Mullen et al., 1999, 2000) we have proposed a classification which emerged from our experience with stalkers who have been personally assessed in a clinic which has a known interest in stalkers (Warren et al., 2005). The courts referred the majority of cases, though there were also significant numbers referred from other health professionals and a handful who self-referred, contacting the clinic after learning of its existence in the media. In most cases the clinic is charged initially with providing reports to the courts for the purposes of sentence and disposal. In both those referred from health professionals and a number of those initially referred for court reports, however, the clinic has become involved in the longer-term management of the case. The clinic also initially provided services for stalking victims, and this further influenced the approach to classification. In common with forensic mental health services in the UK, northern Europe and Canada, but in contrast to those in much of the USA, the clinic provides both assessment and treatment facilities. The classification has therefore to serve both forensic and mental health purposes, and it has been generated by direct experience with stalkers both in the role of providing court-mandated assessments and as treating clinicians.

The primary types proposed were the rejected, the resentful, the intimacy seeker, the incompetent suitor and the predatory. This typology attempts to capture the function of the behaviour for the stalker. What are the stalker’s purposes in pursuing this particular course of action, and what needs and desires are being satisfied? The stalking behaviours have a meaning for the stalker which relates in some way to their goals. Equally, for the stalker to persist in such apparently destructive behaviours there must be results from their actions which are sufficiently rewarding to maintain the behaviour. The context in which the stalking arises is also of relevance, given its relationship to the stalker’s likely aims and their manner of advancing those aims. These variables are relevant whether or not they reflect judgements which are distorted or even delusional. The intimacy seekers are responding to loneliness by attempting to establish a close relationship. The rejected are responding to an unwelcome end to a close relationship by actions intended to lead to reconciliation or extract reparation, or both. The resentful are responding to a perceived insult or injury by actions aimed not just at revenge but at vindication. The predatory are pursuing their desires for sexual gratification and control both in and through the stalking. The incompetents are would-be suitors seeking a partner by methods which are likely to be at best counterproductive and at worst terrifying for their target. The second axis relates to the relationship to the victim, which is separated into prior intimate partners, professional contacts, work-related contacts, casual acquaintances and friends, the famous and strangers who had had no contact prior to the onset of the stalking. The clinic is situated in Melbourne, Australia, and unlike in California, or even New York, stars of stage, screen or radio are few and far between. In fact, four of the 10 victims with a claim to be celebrities were radio chat-show hosts. In passing it is worth noting that radio personalities may be peculiarly vulnerable to stalking. This could be because they tend to directly engage with audiences via phone-ins and many seem to cultivate a style intended to give an appearance of direct, personal and in some ways intimate communication with the audience. The trials and tribulations of the seductive

Classification employed in this book

radio disc jockey who attracts an erotomanic stalker are brilliantly portrayed in the film Play Misty for Me, in which Clint Eastwood both starred and directed. The final axis relates to psychiatric status, with a simplified division into a psychotic group, incorporating schizophrenia, delusional disorders, affective psychosis and organic psychosis, and a non-psychotic grouping, being predominantly personality disorders with a lesser number of depressive and anxiety disorders. Substance abuse is usually a qualifier of the diagnosis, being a primary diagnosis in only a handful of cases. Nobody failed to acquire at least a diagnosis of personality disorder or substance abuse, not because of a low threshold for the recognition of mental disorders, but because of the high level of manifest psychopathology in this population. On its own, the typology enables predictions to be made about the duration of the stalking, the nature of the stalking behaviours, the risks of threatening and violent behaviour, and to some extent the response to management strategies (Mullen et al., 1999). Table 5.1 sets out a number of the variables significantly associated with the typology of stalking type in 250 stalkers. This expands substantially on the data already published in Mullen et al. (1999, 2000). The rejected grouping use the widest range of stalking behaviours, often following, repeatedly approaching, telephoning, letter writing and leaving notes. In contrast, the predatory stalkers concentrate almost

exclusively on furtively following and maintaining surveillance, never sending letters and rarely phoning or openly approaching the victim. Intimacy seekers are the most prolific of letter writers, and they also surpass all other groups in the sending of unsolicited gifts and other forms of material. The duration of stalking is by far the longest in the rejected and intimacy seekers and shortest in the predatory, who along with the incompetent are the most likely in our experience to attract prompt police action and referral to our service. The diagnostic variables were collapsed into a psychotic group (schizophrenia, delusional disorders, affective psychosis and organic psychosis) and a nonpsychotic group (predominantly personality disorders). The psychotic subjects are particularly likely to send unsolicited materials and the non-psychotic to follow and maintain surveillance. The psychotic and nonpsychotic are equally likely to threaten, but the nonpsychotic are twice as likely as the psychotic to proceed to assault. The best predictor of stalking duration is the typology. Assaultiveness is also predicted best by typology, which when combined with substance abuse and a history of prior convictions (irrespective of their nature) accounts for most of the explained variance (see Chapter 20). The typology is also of value in determining management strategies (see Chapter 21). This typology, which was advanced in the first edition of this book (Mullen et al., 2000), has been

Table 5.1 Characteristics of stalkers and stalking behaviour according to typology (n = 250) Stalking typology

Variable Male (%) Age (mean/SD) Currently partnered Currently employed Stalking duration in months (mean/SD) Number of harassment methods (Mean/SD) Substance abuse (%) Prior criminal convictions (%)

Rejected (n = 74)

Intimacy seekers (n = 78)

Incompetent suitors (n = 46)

Resentful (n = 41)

Predatory (n = 11)

Significance

85% 36.7 (10.8) 11% 71% 32.0 (44.7) 4.8 (1.6)

77% 38.6 (11.2) 8% 39% 36.8 (44.2) 3.9 (1.4)

91% 34.0 (9.3) 14% 52% 9.7 (13.4) 2.7 (1.4)

80% 38.6 (10.6) 15% 61% 13.7 (13.6) 3.4 (1.7)

100% 31.0 (8.1) 22% 50% 7.8 (10.5) 3.0 (0.9)

0.14 0.06 0.09 0.09 <0.001 <0.001

34% 51%

34% 37%

37% 39%

33% 45%

30% 78%

0.99 0.11

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retained. The last decade, however, has generated information which could be used to further refine and subdivide the typology. The rejected stalkers we now view as having two variants, one pursuing primarily reconciliation and restoration of the relationship, the other being driven primarily by rage at rejection and a desire for retribution. The studies we have been engaged in with colleagues from the UK and USA (James et al., 2007, 2008; Meloy et al., 2008; Mullen et al., in press) on the stalking of public figures have made us realise that the intimacy seekers can be of at least two broad variants. This type of stalker can incorporate not only erotic and loving desires but also the desire for a confiding relationship in which the stalker plays the role of friend and adviser as well as receiving support and comfort in return. The work of Spitzberg and Cupach (2001, 2003), as well as that of Sinclair and Frieze (2000, 2005), has illuminated the stalking-like behaviours which emerge particularly in adolescents. This is related to our concept of the incompetent suitor, but it covers important dimensions not adequately captured in our initial conceptualisation. Epidemiological studies have revealed that stalkers fall into two broad groups, the first of which pursues intensively for a few days, the other for months or even years. Among those perpetrating brief pursuits are not just incompetent suitors but also those retaliating impulsively to perceived slights and injuries. This has suggested that our resentful typology requires modifying to incorporate these vengeful responses. The predatory type could potentially be subdivided according to the type of sexual offending it serves. Those who are primarily voyeurs differ in many ways from those whose sexual desires are fixed on children and adolescents. The serial rapist is in most ways far removed from the sender of repeated scatological communications. The temptation to refine and subdivide our basic typology has been resisted. First and foremost because five types already stretches the tolerance of potential users and the utility of the classification to its limits. Two types would be more user-friendly than three, three preferable to four, and so on. But to compress

our typology would be to lose useful distinctions, while to expand it would make it overly cumbersome. We have therefore retained our five basic types, but have added the finer distinctions that have arisen both from our own research and from those of other groups.

Conclusions No generally accepted approach to classifying stalkers has yet emerged, although our own was recently endorsed by the Group for the Advancement of Psychiatry (GAP) Committee on Psychiatry and Law in the USA (Pinals, 2007). References to our typology have also been found in less elevated circles, including television programmes such as Neighbours, Numb3rs and Halifax f.p., and a high school psychology course guide in Australia (Ricci & Letch, 2004). Even the ‘secret stalker squad’ in the UK (Economist, 2007), otherwise known as the Fixated Threat Assessment Centre, draws on this typology (see Chapter 18). As this chapter demonstrates, a number of different typologies and groupings have now been advanced which are the product of the particular experiences, theoretical commitments and practical needs of the groups who proposed the classifications. At this stage in the development of knowledge about stalking it is probably safe to say that the best classification to use is the one which best serves your needs. Our system of classification works for us, but this is in a context of mental health professionals who, though they assess and treat a wide range of stalkers, have no role in law enforcement and whose contact with the courts is as advisers on therapeutic options, with issues of competency rarely if ever raised. As the knowledge and experience about stalkers and their behaviours, motivations and trajectories increases, so classifications will become more firmly based in the realities of the stalking phenomena. Till then doubtless differing constructions, typologies and would-be classifications will contend for attention and that inevitably elusive pre-eminence.

6 The rejected stalker and the resentful stalker

Rejected stalkers Clinical features One of the commonest forms of stalking is that which emerges in the context of the breakdown of a close relationship. Typically the rejected partner begins to stalk after their partner has attempted to end the relationship, or indicated that they intend to end the relationship. The overt aim of the stalking is either to attain a reconciliation or to exact revenge for the rejection. In practice the stalker not infrequently entertains a mixture of both of these goals, with the dominant motivation shifting with circumstances and the ex-partner’s responses. The stalking can be sustained by the satisfactions obtained by continuing this parody of a relationship in which forced contact substitutes for actual closeness, and imposed communications for the lost mutual interactions. The usual relationship to give rise at its dissolution to stalking is an intimate sexual partnership, but the breakdown of any close relationship in which the rejected partner has invested emotional energy can usher in stalking. In our own experience we have seen stalking emerge following rifts between close friends, parents and their children, long-term work and business partnerships and even therapists and their clients/patients. The essential elements are the stalker’s anger at having had their hopes and expectations disappointed by the unilateral severance of the relationship. This tends to be combined with a sense of loss at the end of an important relationship. The rage at rejection is often augmented by distress at the perceived

unfairness or humiliating nature of the rejection. The sense of loss may be heightened by the stalker’s awareness that for them the lost relationship may be irreplaceable. The rejected can be among the most persistent and intrusive of stalkers. Once established, their pattern of harassment is very difficult to alter. It is not always immediately obvious why these men and women continue so tenaciously to pursue their erstwhile partner. Those who claim to be hoping for a reconciliation and restitution of the relationship will usually admit, if confronted, that constant intrusions and threats are hardly likely to encourage their previous partner to restore the relationship. And yet they persist. Those pursuing some form of retribution (or, as they see it, justice) will often wax lyrical about how dreadful their ex-partner was and how the relationship had been absolute purgatory. And yet they are unwilling to walk away from a partnership they declare to have been a burden bereft of satisfactions. The stalking, in practice, traps both the stalker and the victim in a continuing relationship. For those stalkers who cannot abandon the hope of restoring the relationship the harassment at least provides some semblance of a connectedness to the lost partner. For the rejected stalker who is predominantly angry and vengeful the stalking seems again aimed in part at continuing a relationship in which, for all their raging, they remain enmeshed. The stalking in a sense is a continuation of a relationship, the loss of which is too threatening, or to which they remain bound by unresolved emotions and desires, made all the more compelling by their ambivalent nature.

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The rejected stalker Context

The breakdown of a close relationship.

Victim

The ex-intimate.

Initial

The search for reconciliation, or exacting revenge

motivation for rejection, or a fluctuating mixture of both. Sustaining

The stalking substitutes for the lost intimacy

motivation by creating the semblance of closeness and a parody of an ongoing relationship.

In our own series nearly 90% of those who fell into the rejected type were males. In epidemiological studies most of those pursued by ex-partners were women stalked by men (see Chapter 3). There may be utility in sub-classifying the rejected into the reconciliation seekers, the vengeful, and the mixed (Dressing et al., 2007b).

Psychology and psychopathology As a type in our clinic sample the rejected had the lowest levels of diagnosable mental disorder. Out of 70 in this category only 6 had psychotic disorders and 18 had symptoms of depression and/or anxiety which reached caseness level (McEwan, 2007). On the other hand, this type had high rates of personality problems, with antisocial and narcissistic traits being particularly prominent. There was also a small but significant cluster with marked dependent traits. Substance abuse was a significant problem for nearly half of this sample. Like most other stalker groups, their performance IQs were significantly higher than their verbal IQs. The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI: Graham, 2000; Hathaway & McKinley, 2001) profiles suggested a pattern of egocentricity combined with a sense of insecurity and oversensitivity to criticism and rejection. They strongly identified with masculine roles but dependency traits were nonetheless often prominent in their profiles. Stubborn, immature and impulsive described a substantial minority. They were more likely to be externalisors who blamed others for their problems, which, combined with insecure attachments, made for potential relationship problems (MacKenzie, 2006).

Relationship to other classifications Meloy (1999) describes the ‘modal stalking victim’ as a woman, younger than her pursuer, with whom she has had a prior sexually intimate relationship. The simple obsessional category of Zona and colleagues (1993, 1998), typified by a male who has been rejected pursuing a woman with whom he had a sexual relationship, overlaps with this rejected typology. Similarly, those who are defined simply by the victim being an ex-partner are almost coextensive with this rejected group. The only exceptions are those who are stalking an ex-intimate with whom the relationship had not been sexual but a close friendship or family tie. Mullen et al. (1999) included in the rejected typology two individuals stalking their estranged mothers, six pursuing people with whom they had had a close but non-sexual relationship, and three where the victim had previously worked with the stalker and formed close bonds. The rejected typology contains a number of individuals with personality disorders, predominantly of the dependent and narcissistic type. The jealous and suspicious, who tend to fall diagnostically into the paranoid disorders, are also represented among the rejected stalkers. A number of the rejected stalkers fit into one of the variants of the obsessional follower described by Meloy (1992) and Meloy & Gothard (1995). Meloy (1999) describes obsessional followers as socially isolated and characterologically narcissistic individuals in whom ‘rejection stimulates shame and humiliation … which is quickly defended against with rage – not anger – toward what Kohut would view as a self-object and Kernberg would see as a part object’ (p. 88). Meloy (1999) argues that such individuals when rejected defend themselves against feelings of abandonment by rage and devaluation which in turn ‘fuel the pursuit of the object to hurt, injure, control, damage or destroy him or her’ (p. 89). Meloy (1999) considers the most disturbing aspect of stalking is that the aggressive and destructive pursuit restores the narcissistic fantasies of entitlement and rectitude. Narcissistic traits were evident in a number of our rejected stalkers, though this psychopathology was not perhaps as ‘rampant’ as Meloy (1998a) describes

Rejected stalkers

among obsessional followers. One particularly startling example was provided by a man who had been repeatedly phoning and following a younger woman with whom he had had a relatively brief sexual relationship. This man spent a lengthy period at the onset of the interview explaining how his victim was unattractive, stupid, had no dress sense and was without wit or charm. When asked why he was bothering to pursue a lady so bereft of positive qualities he offered that she had left him but that he had determined that they should again go out together. In response perhaps to the interviewer’s puzzlement he went on to explain: it was obvious a woman like that didn’t walk out on a man like him, but that when the relationship was restored he would of course leave her. An intense sense of humiliation created when one partner unilaterally ends a relationship is not confined to the obviously narcissistic. The end of a relationship can be particularly provoking when not only the expectations of the rejected party are thwarted but they also feel publicly humiliated. One young woman, from a traditional southern European family, had been engaged for some time to a somewhat older man from a very different cultural background. He ended the relationship on the grounds that their interests and aspirations were too divergent to sustain a permanent relationship. For him it was a rational decision politely communicated and realised as gently as possible. For her it was a gross and very public insult delivered in the face of her family and friends. The other problem for her was that from her perspective, and from her family’s perspective, they were already irredeemably committed. Ending the relationship was unthinkable. She pursued this man over several months, initially with entreaties and pleas which were to her increasingly humiliating. Finally she responded with spectacular fury. She destroyed his flat, trashed his car, totally disrupted his work and repeatedly embarrassed him in public. When seen she was a demonstrative young woman, perhaps somewhat lacking in self-esteem but certainly not someone lacking close social contacts, or given to overestimating her own qualities or capacities. She had a defined set of aims in pursuing this man. She was determined to ‘get him back’. Equally, she was determined he would pay for the shame he had brought

on her. In this case it was fear of imminent legal sanctions which played the greatest role in bringing her campaign to an end. The commonest features we encounter among rejected stalkers are not narcissistic but those of overdependence. This overdependence is often combined with poor social skills and a resulting impoverished social network. These individuals have usually invested all their hopes and expectations in the relationship. They tend to have difficulty establishing relationships of any kind, let alone intimate liaisons. Realistically they often express the fear that this may be their one and only chance for love. Their reaction to the rejection has more to do with disbelief and desperation than it has with shame or rage. For many of these individuals there is no one to be shamed in front of, except their partner. The early stages of the stalking tend to combine pleas for reconciliation with activities aimed at continuing the relationship as if no rift had occurred. One of our patients would contrive to turn up at work to drive his ex-partner home. He also repeatedly appeared at social and sporting venues, attempting to escort her as he had in the past. He acknowledged that he hoped if he persisted the separation would just go away. This type of appeal, however pathetic, tends eventually to generate increasingly emphatic and irritable demands from the ex-partner for a halt. These repeated rejections usually eventually either drive the overly dependent ex-partner away (in which case no further stalking occurs) or it produces anger and escalation. The following case illustrates some of these points. CASE EXAMPLE Susan was referred by a magistrate following her conviction for breaching a restraining order. A 39-year-old secretary, she was unable to accept her banker husband’s decision some 12 months earlier to end their marriage. She had repeatedly approached her husband, Craig, at his workplace and his rented flat, pleading with him to reconsider. Craig steadfastly rejected her advances but she did not, as he had hoped, ‘eventually get the message’. Indeed, after he bluntly informed his wife that she bored him and they should never have married, Susan’s efforts intensified. She phoned him over 20 times a day on his mobile phone and work extension, sent multiple letters to his office and home address, and often refused to leave his work premises. Tearful demands that he return now alternated with angry

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recriminations and vengeful attempts to embarrass him in front of his friends, co-workers and customers. Having sacrificed her job in the full-time pursuit of her husband, Susan made constant demands on him for money and insisted he continue to support her in ways expected of a husband: this included washing her car and paying all her bills. After ten months of harassment, desperate for some reprieve and fearful of losing his own job, Craig obtained a restraining order. His estranged wife was enraged, and refused to acknowledge the order’s existence. She persisted in her uninvited visitations, letters and phone calls, and began sitting in her car outside his flat, castigating him whenever he appeared. During this time, Craig made repeated efforts to reason with her, avoiding any denial of a future together because his earlier candour had failed; he also felt guilty and did not want to hurt her further. One evening, Craig arrived home late from work to find a brick had been hurled through his front window. Panicked, he advised the police of the continuing breaches and property damage. He described Susan as an immature woman with poor selfesteem and jealous tendencies. It was only after multiple court appearances and an actual assault upon Craig outside his workplace that Susan was referred for psychiatric evaluation. The magistrate was reluctant to imprison the otherwise law-abiding defendant and handed down a community-based disposition with a condition that she undergo psychiatric assessment and treatment. She was a most unwilling participant, insisting that her husband was the one who needed a psychiatrist, to make him accept that his place was with her. She gave a history of growing up in a large Catholic family with three older sisters, all of whom were happily married and successful in their chosen careers. She had always regarded herself as the unattractive sibling. She met her future husband through a friend and he seemed to show an interest in her, so ‘I chased him till he eventually gave in and we started hanging out together.’ Convinced this was her only opportunity for wedded bliss and babies, Susan mounted a dedicated campaign to win Craig’s hand in marriage, to which he succumbed after two years. When subsequently interviewed, Susan’s parents indicated their early reservations about their daughter’s choice of partner, regarding him as irresponsible and ‘a bit of a womaniser’. They described him as ‘the unhappiest groom we’ve ever seen’, which was borne out by some of the wedding photographs, an observation to which Susan seemed oblivious. Susan had no prior relationships and was a virgin when she began dating her husband. Her feelings of unattractiveness were more subjective than real, though her inferiority in relation to her sisters was reinforced by a weight problem and her

reduced capacity to spend money on her appearance. She was a doting aunt to her two sisters’ young children, but one sister had limited Susan’s contact with the children because ‘she was becoming too attached’. Susan had no prior contact with psychiatric services, her mother describing her as a rather clingy, sensitive child who was nonetheless devoted to family and a staunch Catholic. Since the separation, however, Susan had refused to join in family celebrations because her husband did not escort her, and she was furious if friends and family sent her invitations or cards which did not acknowledge Craig. Susan was frequently tearful throughout the initial and subsequent interviews, angrily devaluing her husband then describing him in idealised terms. She would not hear of the option of ‘starting afresh’, insisting that he was her husband and the only one she would ever be with. There was simply no question of another man. She could acknowledge her underlying fears that she was not good enough to attract another man, and that she was ‘running out of time’ (to start a family with anybody else). She also refused to accept, for religious reasons, that the marriage could be over, insisting that their commitment was lifelong. She dismissed her estranged husband’s right to privacy and freedom from harassment, stating she had no respect for a law designed to prevent her from pursuing what was rightfully and legally hers, and insisting Craig’s breach of his vows and the laws of the church were a far more serious transgression. She alluded to ending her life if it did not include her husband, but there was no evidence at this time of a depressive disorder and she indicated that her religion prevented her from any earnest contemplation of suicide. She was aghast at the suggestion that she could physically harm her husband, and similarly denied she would hurt any future girlfriends (the mere suggestion of these evoking considerable distress), but she felt she would be quite justified in slashing their tyres. Regular sessions were scheduled with Susan in an attempt to shift her rigid and maladaptive beliefs in relation to the marriage, Craig, her own self-image and her prospects for the future. In addition, the legal sanctions in the event of her continued disregard for the restraining order were repeatedly emphasised. Unfortunately, after some initial diminution in stalking activities, she persisted in breaching the order, maintaining that her husband alone was in control of the legal outcome, since his return to her and removal of the order were in his hands. Unfortunately, Craig did have some influence over events in that he tended to accede to her demands to meet and frequently spoke with her when she phoned him at work. While these were understandable efforts on his part to appeal to reason and discourage further approaches, they served only to reinforce contact, strengthen her dependence on him and offer

Rejected stalkers

hope of future reconciliation. Further, Craig was inconsistent in his enforcement of the order, leaving her perplexed and angry about her ability to visit him and receive a hug one day, and being shouted off his property and arrested another. A lack of consistency plagued this case at virtually every juncture, with a reluctance on the part of police to charge her, and bending the rules when she was held in the police cells by allowing her regular cigarettes and sympathetic chats with police. While some may have identified with her situation and possibly blamed her husband’s conduct, they effectively protected her from the stark consequences of her illegal behaviours and any disincentive to persist in these. Eighteen months after their separation, Craig filed for divorce. Susan strenuously opposed this, but assented in the Family Court, abusing Craig, the lawyers and the presiding judge. She was in fact removed from the court, screaming that the divorce papers were meaningless and she would never recognise them. Appearing only weeks later in the magistrates’ court, on this occasion answering stalking charges, she berated the magistrate who referred to Craig as her ‘ex-husband’. Exasperated, the magistrate sentenced her to one month in prison. Susan’s prison experience proved very different to that of the police cells. She was bullied by other inmates and found the prison officers less than sympathetic. Her access to cigarettes was much less predictable, and she was often forced to exchange these for protection. She felt angry towards Craig for her predicament, but came to see that she alone had the power to avoid any further punishment on this scale. She spoke regularly with the prison chaplain, who reinforced the finality of the divorce. Upon her release, Susan moved into a church-run women’s hostel and participated in paid charity work. Susan also continued in therapy on a voluntary basis. Her anger towards her ex-husband persisted, albeit at a diminished and less destructive level. In a face-saving reversal, she said that she ‘would never take the creep back’, given his failure to support her through her traumatic prison ordeal. She admitted to occasionally driving down his street, curious about his social life, but there were no other breaches of the restraining order. With time and some notable improvement in her selfconfidence, helped in large part by her work, Susan began dating a man she met through her charity work. She has developed a good deal of insight into her dependent temperament and is striving to avoid the relationship mistakes of the past. Her boyfriend, himself a rather immature individual, is aware of her stalking proclivities and accompanies her to therapy sessions whenever conflicts arise. Susan has since learned through a mutual friend that her ex-husband is living with a woman who is vaguely known to Susan. She feels ‘they deserve each other’. Craig (now engaged) has moved from

his former residence and his ex-wife has shown no interest in locating his whereabouts.

Jealousy Jealousy and possessiveness are prominent characteristics of some, though far from all, rejected stalkers. Typically jealousy and excessive possessiveness manifest in the early stages of a relationship and become an ongoing theme. A number of rejected stalkers acknowledge that they had been intensely jealous and that this had marred their relationships prior to the separation. A number of victims of stalking by ex-partners described, whilst still in the relationship, long histories of being subjected to cross-questioning, accusations and being checked up on. In effect some of these people were being subjected to stalking-like behaviours by jealous partners even before the relationship was terminated. Jealousy emerges in the context of a fear that a relationship is threatened (White & Mullen, 1989). It is, however, not only a cry of pain at threatened loss and disappointed hope but a way of keeping alive a failing relationship (Mullen, 1990). Jealousy intensifies the concern and increases the contact which the jealous has with the suspected partner. Proust (1980) suggested jealousy’s only virtue was that it stimulated a curiosity about their partner in the most unimaginative of men. The augmented curiosity and associated incursions are, however, rarely regarded positively by the object of suspicion. Jealousy which continues to plague the individual even after a separation has occurred is fertile ground for stalking. Jealousy asserts a continuing entitlement not just to the relationship but to fidelity. Jealousy is nothing if not curious and intrusive (Lagache, 1949; Tallenbach, 1974). Jealousy, like stalking itself, attempts to sustain a relationship by maintaining contact through intrusion, through demands and through fantasy (Mullen, 1990). Jealousy is also productive of self-righteousness, based as it is on an accusation of infidelity and a claim to have been a victim of the others’ ill-directed concupiscence. Entitlement with a self-righteous pursuit of those claims bred in jealousy all too easily feeds into the stalker’s conviction that their harassments are justified.

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A piece of human behaviour like stalking, as has already been emphasised, can be the end product of a wide range of psychological states interacting with differing circumstances. In our experience the rejected stalker, far from having been the typical possessive, jealous and controlling partner, is at least as likely to have been a vulnerable dependent individual clinging desperately to the relationship. In most cases the stalking is for the individual a unique form of deviance arising from a very specific set of circumstances which are experienced by the stalker as provoking, and in many cases as justifying, their behaviour. There may well be in this, or prior relationships, histories of possessiveness, jealousy, clinging dependence, insensitivity to the needs and feelings of the partner and even frank domestic violence. Occasionally stalking is part of a recurrent pattern of responses to failed relationships. These ‘serial stalkers’ often do have marked narcissistic traits and certainly are prone to respond to rejection with rage. The following case describes such a ‘serial stalker’. CASE EXAMPLE Tony was referred by the courts for a pre-sentence psychiatric report, having been convicted of stalking his ex-fiance´e. This 42-year-old computer salesman had a series of failed relationships characterised by stalking. As a 17-year-old student, Tony dated a popular girl in his class but ‘she couldn’t hack it because I wasn’t a virgin and she was.’ She apparently resisted his demands for a sexual relationship (which would in fact have been his first). Angry at her rejection of him, Tony responded by spreading rumours around school that she was a whore. He also despatched five taxis and a pizza delivery to her parents’ home late one night. Tony’s encounters with women were short-lived over the next few years. He dropped out of a computer science course at university during his second semester, claiming that he was too advanced for the rest of the class. He found work for a time with his father in his printing business but found the work tedious, arguing constantly with his father, whose lack of ambition he had long deplored. An uncle offered Tony a sales position in his used-car business, where he began dating the secretary. By his account, this woman was very attractive and he felt constantly jealous of the attentions of other men. He spent increasing periods with her, forbidding her to go out without him, and three months after meeting her proposed marriage. He claims he was sure she would be ‘good wife material and make beautiful

babies’. She declined, but the two continued to see each other for several more months before an angry confrontation – prompted by her renewed interest in a former boyfriend – persuaded her to end the relationship. Incensed, Tony made a series of anonymous, threatening and hang-up calls to the woman and created such enmity at her workplace that she was compelled to resign. On one occasion he pushed her against a filing cabinet, but her employer – Tony’s uncle – dismissed her allegation. He nonetheless fired Tony a short time later for being a ‘disruptive influence’ in the office, after the replacement secretary had accused Tony of sexual harassment. At age 27 Tony, working again for his father, befriended a 22-year-old customer. She initially resisted his requests to go out but she relented after he besieged her with gifts of flowers and customised, romantic cards. The courtship was, by his account, a ‘perfect’ one, though it was equally characterised by jealousy and controlling behaviour on his part. After a year the couple married, against the wishes of the woman’s parents, who described Tony as ‘arrogant and sleazy’. The marriage quickly deteriorated, Tony refusing to allow his wife to continue her work at the beauty counter of a department store, despite their financial difficulties. He felt aggrieved when she questioned his right to go out with male friends and spend money on drinks, girlie shows and gambling, further antagonising her by increasing the frequency of his outings. One day he discovered she was taking birth control pills despite his rigid insistence on starting a family without delay; an argument ensued during which he almost strangled her. She escaped to her parents’ home and they called the police. Tony denied the assault and no charges ensued, though he was quite forthcoming about his actions when seen years later at our clinic, regarding his behaviour as justified under the circumstances (‘well, she lied … that’s hardly any basis for a marriage’). Tony’s wife never returned, despite his repeated approaches to the parental home pleading for a reconciliation. He sent her bouquets of flowers, cards and long letters asserting his undying love. Often, he waited in his car outside the house, being chased on one occasion by his furious father-in-law. His wife was encouraged to take out a restraining order, and Tony responded with self-righteous indignation. He made repeated phone calls through the night, hanging up on his in-laws and execrating his estranged wife. His behaviour became increasingly vengeful. He spray-painted maledictory messages over his in-laws’ fence. He printed flyers detailing his estranged wife’s sexual habits and distributed these to all her neighbours. He severed the fuel line in his father-in-law’s car and punctured his wife’s tyres with a screwdriver. He even removed all the clothes from their washing line and stuffed them in the compost bin. Ultimately, Tony’s intrusions were photographed by a vigilant neighbour and he

Rejected stalkers

was charged on multiple counts of trespass, criminal damage, threats to kill, misuse of telecommunications and breaches of the restraining order (there being no offence of stalking at that time). His conviction resulted in a good-behaviour bond. His wife divorced him, prompting further attempts at contact, but during a subsequent appearance before a magistrate he was threatened with imprisonment and the stalking subsided. Almost a year later, Tony found work with a computer software company. Soon after, unbeknown to his employer, he was convicted of indecently assaulting a woman at a nightclub, having squeezed her breasts in the process of asking her for a date. He received a community-based order with a condition he undergo psychological assessment. The clinical psychologist found him to be a ‘narcissistic, antisocial individual with strongly misogynistic beliefs and little appreciation for the rights of others’. It was recommended he receive counselling but he did not comply and the recommendations were not enforced, possibly because the (female) correctional officer supervising his order didn’t feel it was worth the argument. While still on the community order Tony befriended one of his clients, a fashion buyer. She too was a divorcee, and initially rejected his advances because she didn’t feel ready for another relationship. Tony, typically impervious to such extenuations, invited her for ‘just a coffee’, which she accepted with some hesitation. Further coffee dates ensued, then other outings and a more intimate relationship. The pattern of this relationship was remarkably similar to those which preceded it, the woman agreeing to marriage some eight months later. She however insisted upon a lengthy engagement, during which time Tony’s controlling, possessive ways became increasingly apparent. When his fiance´e attempted to extricate herself from the relationship Tony threatened to ruin her reputation and career. He emailed offensive messages to her, and sent faxes to her workplace falsely alleging her sexual misconduct and dishonesty; these were read by a number of her staff, as intended. One day, Tony arrived at the woman’s apartment and demanded she let him in to ‘talk’. She reluctantly agreed, because his shouting and accusations were disturbing the neighbours. Inside, he pressed her against the kitchen sink and began fondling her breasts and forcibly kissing her. She screamed, alerting the man in the adjacent apartment, who came to her door to investigate. A surly Tony departed immediately, promising to return. The woman changed her locks, installed a security door, obtained a duress alarm and notified the police. Despite his community order and an official record of similar harassment, their only action was to recommend she apply for a restraining order. A fortnight and numerous hang-up phone calls later, and prior to the granting of an interim protective order, the victim

received a letter from Tony’s solicitor, demanding she repay the $10 000 allegedly owed to his client. The woman sought legal advice of her own in dealing with the patently untrue claim, fearful that Tony was plausible enough to succeed in any subsequent action. In actual fact Tony owed his victim money (having kept some of her antique furniture) and he eventually abandoned his claim, but not until his ex-lover had forfeited several thousand dollars in solicitors’ fees. Although Tony refrained from sending faxes and emails after the restraining order was in place, and desisted from phoning her when he learned her calls were being traced, he continued to hover around her neighbourhood and intermittently tailed her car. The victim distributed photographs of her stalker to her neighbours and urged them to notify the police whenever they sighted him. This culminated in Tony’s arrest one evening while using a nearby payphone to arrange pizza deliveries to the woman’s address. On this occasion he was convicted of stalking. Our pre-sentence psychiatric evaluation supported earlier conclusions that Tony had a personality disorder with prominent narcissistic traits, with no evidence of major psychiatric illness. Not surprisingly, he was a difficult man to engage, his angry, entitled, self-righteous nature pervading sessions. He could nonetheless appreciate the significant consequences to him of persisting in his vengeful course. Although his ex-fiance´e reported one further suspicious episode (her mail was removed from her letterbox and strewn around the front garden), Tony denied any involvement and the harassment ceased. After five months Tony’s employers transferred him to an office in another state. He was offered a referral to an equivalent service there but this was declined.

Rejected stalkers are the type most likely to employ intimidation and assault in their pursuit of the exintimate. In part this is because such stalkers are more likely to be drawn from a population given to threats and violence when frustrated or threatened. A history of domestic violence has been noted in some but not all studies to be associated with further violence should stalking emerge following separation. The mechanics and practicalities of ending relationships often draw expartners back into close contact. The mixed emotions, which can include guilt, induce the victim to attempt to conciliate the stalker by seeing them and talking with them. The patterns of ex-partners’ lives have often established common places for leisure and work, together

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with common friends and acquaintances. Unless the victim abandons all the familiar and often valued connections, they risk encountering the rejected expartner. The greater the physical proximity, and the more frequent the face-to-face encounters and confrontations, the greater the risk of escalation to violence. Finally, rejected stalkers are often filled with a combination of self-righteousness and overwhelming entitlement, both states of mind conducive to threatening and potentially violent behaviours. The rejected stalkers are not usually so disturbed and disordered that they cannot calculate their own advantage. Though caught up in the pursuit of their expartners, when confronted with a sufficiently high price for continuing that pursuit, in terms of criminal sanctions, many are able to stop. Relapses back into the stalking behaviours are, in our experience, reduced if not totally prevented by appropriately focused counselling and support. They are often distressed, angry men for whom the loss of the relationship left them adrift without alternative social supports or occasionally even contacts. They need help letting go of the lost partner or other intimate. They often need to appropriately grieve that loss as part of the letting go. Then they need to acquire new social outlets and hopefully new, less conflicted relationships. The latter aim is often very difficult to attain, given both the low levels of social skills and the reluctance to again offer the level of trust necessary to form any close relationship. Substance abuse, when present, often contributes to, and potentially drives, stalking. In such cases the management of substance abuse is essential in terminating the stalking. There are a small number of rejected stalkers where major mental illness plays a significant role. Their disorders, as noted, often involve preoccupations or frank delusions about the partner’s fidelity. Managing intense or delusional jealousy is never easy, and it is particularly problematic when the jealousy has continued beyond the separation of the partners. In our experience, depressive disorders are not usually apparent when this group of rejected stalkers are first seen but do emerge when they are able to abandon their pursuit, for with that abandonment comes for them the reality of the end of the relationship.

Resentful and retaliatory stalkers Clinical features A context of conflict in which one party experiences themselves as a victim of injustice can give rise to stalking. This type of stalking is initially motivated by the desire for retribution. The stalking is designed to frighten and distress the victim. The stalking may exhaust itself in a brief retaliatory episode of intrusiveness. More frequently (at least in those who reach clinicians or the court) the stalking becomes persistent because of the satisfactions the stalker obtains from the sense of power and control over someone who in most cases has previously been regarded as in a stronger and more privileged position. In keeping with the stalker’s perception of their victim as being more powerful, the more extended episodes of resentful stalking will often be pursued anonymously, at least initially. When this type of stalker is interviewed they almost invariably present themselves not as an avenger but as a victim who in the process of defending themselves is striking back at their oppressor. Further, in almost all of these stalkers the targets of their harassment are pictured by the stalker as examples of the type of people who have repeatedly harassed and humiliated the stalker over their past life. The supervisor or co-worker may have evoked the stalker’s indignation by a specific act, which makes them seem an opportune target. The stalker, however, almost always experiences a more generalised resentment against, for example, the firm, or authority, or even ‘the system’. It is for this reason that the resentful stalker usually pictures themselves not as victimising someone more vulnerable than they but, on the contrary, being the true victim in the situation. In contrast to the typical resentful stalker, retaliatory stalkers confine themselves to a brief episode of insulting phone calls and anonymous letters of the poisonpen variety or repeated approaches and following lasting only a few days. These outbursts are more in the nature of open reprisals and are, for the most part, in stark contrast to the surreptitious, persistent, and calculated harassment of the resentful stalker who more often find their way to mental health professionals. The retaliatory stalkers, together with the more

Resentful and retaliatory stalkers

The resentful stalker Context

Emerges where the stalker feels they have been exposed to injustice or humiliation.

Victim

Someone who has attracted the stalker’s enmity by their own actions or by being seen as a representative of an oppressing group.

Initial

The desire for revenge, often a surreptitious

motivation

revenge.

Sustaining

The satisfying sense of power and control

motivation

that comes from harassing the victim. A satisfaction made particularly sweet by the novelty of the experience of for once feeling in control and dominant. The resentful stalker almost invariably feels justified in their actions and presents themselves as a victim fighting back against more powerful oppressors.

common incompetent suitors, form the vast majority of those responsible for the brief periods of stalking which last typically only for a day or two (see Chapter 3). The characteristics of retaliatory stalkers differ from the resentful in that their response to perceived injury is usually impulsive, always soon after injury, usually open, and usually dissipates once the anger and distress have been expressed. These are short-term retaliations, not the planned and controlled responses of the typical resentful stalker. Resentful stalkers can be either seeking planned revenge against an individual or expressing their rage at the world through the vindictive pursuit of someone who has come to embody all those who have humiliated and harmed them in the past.

their verbal as compared to their performance IQ, with differences when they did emerge favouring the verbal over the performance. The pattern which emerged from personality testing suggested self-centred, immature individuals who are hostile, demanding and argumentative. They overestimate themselves and derogate others. Defensiveness and denial is rampant in this group. They tend to have poor frustration tolerance, with high suppressed anger (MacKenzie, 2006). Resentful stalkers as a group showed a marked tendency on the Paulhus Deception Scale (Paulhus, 1998) to consciously attempt to present themselves in a socially desirable light, perhaps fitting with our view that these people attempt to project themselves as good victims battling the forces of evil. The results of MMPI studies in 24 resentful stalkers supported the notion that these people regard themselves as misunderstood, mistreated, with low tolerance for frustration, and difficulty with authority figures (MacKenzie, 2006). In our work as consultants to organisations where stalking is creating difficulties, the resentful stalker is often the problem. These stalkers are far removed from the disabled psychotic stalker often referred from other mental health services. Typically these are employees who have developed a resentment against a senior member of management and are pursuing an anonymous campaign of derogation and occasionally sabotage (see Chapter 16). These are usually relatively high-functioning individuals obsessively pursuing their programme of covert revenge. Similarly, the resentful stalkers who pursue health professionals are more likely to have personality and social vulnerabilities than frank psychosis (see Chapter 17).

The nature of resentment and retaliation Psychology and psychopathology There are relatively high rates of psychopathology in this type of stalker, with psychosis rates second only to the intimacy seekers. In our clinic sample 10 out of the 46 resentful stalkers had a paranoid illness. Substance abuse was also prominent. The resentful were the best educated of our clinic sample and, unlike other groups, there was no significant depression of

In English the term resentment has come to mean simply indignation or ill will excited by an experience of injury or insult. Resentment derives from the French ressentiment (OED). This, in its turn, was compounded of the Latin prefix re, indicative of repetition or returning, and sentire, to feel or experience. The retention of the notion of repeated returns to the memories of the feelings and experiences associated with past injuries

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is central to understanding the power exerted by the emotion of resentment. Scheler (1961) provides a remarkable phenomenological exegesis of ressentiment (despite being German speaking, he prefers the French word). He distinguishes between retaliation, revenge and ressentiment. Retaliation is an immediate reprisal for an experienced injury. Revenge is a planned retribution against those who are perceived as having injured you, and its aim is to return injury for injury. Ressentiment, like revenge, begins with the checking of an immediate retaliation in response to an injury in favour of delayed retribution. Ressentiment, unlike revenge, focuses on a repeated return to the remembered feelings of humiliation and powerlessness associated with the existing injury. The plans and fantasies for specific retaliation gradually merge into a less focused sense of having been ill used. Ressentiment once established, in contrast to revenge, becomes separated from any specific exciting cause and attaches itself to a steadily lengthening catalogue of humiliations. Resentment can become one of the most obsessive and enduring of emotions, often achieving a mood-like scope (Solomon, 1976). Those caught up in resentment experience themselves as the innocent object of other’s vindictiveness. They lay claim to one of today’s peculiarly desirable identities, the victim. If and when they do retaliate against an individual, or an organisation, chosen as the proxy for their various persecutors, they experience themselves as acting righteously. Resentment demands a limitless retribution, for it is not payback for any specific act but for a multitude of hurts, made even more voluminous by their repeated and obsessive reliving. Revenge aims primarily to damage and reduce the enemy. Resentment aims primarily at bolstering the sense of power and righteousness of the resentful individual, an aim which is furthered in the process of confronting the target, who has been transformed into an embodiment of oppression. Retaliatory stalking is a brief outburst of harassment driven forward by the anger generated by a recently experienced injury. Revengeful stalking involves a conscious choice to return hurt for hurt. It is open, not surreptitious, and takes the form of a challenge or open battle. Resentful stalking, in contrast, is a lengthy campaign of harassment aimed at inducing

fear in someone who has come to be the embodiment of those against whom the stalker entertains a multiplicity of grievances. It is almost always covert. The resentful stalker is not usually concerned primarily with obtaining a direct and proportional retribution for a specific injury, but is after vindication and justification. The resentful stalker is a person whose resentment against an unfeeling and rejecting world preceded the event which precipitated the stalking. Their resentment is channelled into the harassment and focused on the target. This is in contrast to reprisal and revenge, where the anger is evoked by, and largely confined to, the actions of the target. We have incorporated the stalking of revenge into the term resentful because in our experience resentment drives all but a minority of the persistent stalkers of these types we see clinically. We rarely encounter stalkers of this type willing to acknowledge they are retaliating and willing to bear the consequences. What we see are self-proclaimed victims claiming to be justified in their actions. Resentful stalkers share a number of features with the querulants, who are morbid and abnormally persistent claimants (Mullen & Lester, 2006). Both are pursuing a wide agenda of personal vindication and retribution through the medium of a specific grievance. A number of our resentful stalkers were at the same time pursuing complex claims and litigations, which were not necessarily connected to the grievances motivating the stalking. CASE EXAMPLE Alan was in his early thirties. He had come from an apparently stable background but had received little attention from either of his parents, who were preoccupied with their own lives. He had had few friends and no long-term intimate relationships. Though well qualified in his profession he had failed to establish himself in regular employment. After a number of short-lived appointments on leaving university he had been reduced to agency work often well below the level his qualifications should have commanded. Alan attributed his social isolation and failure to progress occupationally to the malevolence and envy of others. He was suspicious and easily offended. He had pursued a range of complaints and grievances against previous employers and a former landlord. He was constantly affronted by the contrast between his abject

Resentful and retaliatory stalkers

state and the undeserving success and happiness of those around him. On the day which was to be critical for the emergence of stalking, Alan learnt that a job application in which he had invested great hope had been unsuccessful. Later, when he was walking through the central business area, a young woman rushed in front of him, causing him to step back suddenly and slip. She did not stop but leaving him humiliatingly seated on the pavement jumped into a new Series 7 BMW and drove away. This event, with the well-dressed attractive young woman literally stepping over him to her symbol of power and prestige, crystallised all his sense of resentment against the world. He later recalled having decided at that moment that enough was enough. He should strike back. Alan waited in a nearby cafe´, watching for the young woman’s return. Later that day he followed her to her home. Over the next few weeks he obtained a considerable amount of information about her (all meticulously recorded and filed on his computer). He soon learnt she was not the owner of the BMW, nor even a successful young businesswoman. She was a secretary. The car was her employer’s (who had left it illegally parked for her to take to the garage for a service). She was neither wealthy nor powerful. None of this, however, altered his selection of her as the embodiment of injustice. Later he was to rationalise this by referring to her many other advantages, including looks, friends, occupation, security etc. Alan began a campaign of terror against this young woman which was to last over a year until he was imprisoned. The telephone was his main weapon. Repeated hang-up calls, occasional heavy breathing and occasional indirect threats such as ‘I’m coming’ and ‘It’s your turn now’. He phoned her at home, on her mobile, at work, in cafe´s where she lunched, at friends’ houses that she visited. Obtaining a restricted-access telephone number delayed him for only a couple of days whilst he managed to obtain the new number. He also sent letters, usually with blank pages, though he also enclosed an obituary column on one occasion. The victim was devastated. The police were only induced to act after considerable pressure from her employers (she worked for a law firm). He was finally convicted not of stalking (the legislation still having not been introduced) but under a section of the laws governing the improper use of the telephone. Whilst this man was in prison he created considerable anxiety by justifying his actions and repeatedly stating he would continue his pursuit, and making veiled death threats directed at the victim. Fortunately, in the event, he accepted a referral to a mental health service on release and did not return to harassing the victim. Throughout, he considered that he was the real victim in the case and that his arrest and imprisonment

were another example of the injustice and general malevolence of the world.

This case history illustrates clearly the picture of a pre-existing resentful way of being finding expression through the essentially arbitrary choice of a victim to stalk. In most cases the picture is less clear. The stalker usually begins the campaign of harassment following a perceived injury, and often directs that campaign at a plausible target. The stalking appears to be primarily vengeful, even if the stalker’s activities seem disproportionate and ill-directed. The next case illustrates what could be considered the other end of the spectrum of resentful stalking from that of Alan. Here there was a perception that the target had inflicted immense damage on the stalker. The pattern of behaviour seemed entirely understandable, albeit equally unacceptable. When assessed, however, Graham revealed a pattern of resentment and hostility to the world. He had in the past energetically pursued claims and grievances against a variety of organisations and individuals. The stalking was the latest and most dramatic example of an established pattern of complaint and grievance. CASE EXAMPLE Graham was referred by his community corrections officer. A 34-year-old invalid pensioner, he had been stalking his former general practitioner, Dr Norwood, for nearly two years. The stalking had been precipitated by the death of his wife, for which he blamed Dr Norwood. Graham and his wife Lucy had been Dr Norwood’s patients for over five years. A routine cervical smear performed by Dr Norwood on Lucy was abnormal but Dr Norwood was unable to communicate the result to her patient because Lucy and Graham had moved to another town and had not left a forwarding address. When Lucy finally presented to another doctor her cervical carcinoma was well advanced, and she eventually succumbed to the disease. Graham was devastated. He initially sought redress through legal channels, but the courts could not find Dr Norwood liable because she had made all reasonable efforts to locate her patient and Lucy had failed to phone for the results as advised. The State Medical Board investigated the matter also but concurred with the court findings. Graham was infuriated, claiming the courts and the Medical Board were involved in a ‘cover-up’. He insisted that Dr Norwood had received preferential

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treatment because she was a professional from a privileged background, whilst he and his wife were not. He was determined that she should be made to ‘pay’. Graham moved back to the town in which Dr Norwood practised. He made repeated phone calls to her surgery, berating the hapless doctor for her negligence and promising he would destroy her ‘undeserved’ good name. He added also that he intended to make her suffer in a ‘long and drawn-out’ fashion, as his wife had done. Dr Norwood, distressed at Lucy’s unnecessary demise, the subsequent legal inquiries and now Graham’s angry threats, refused to take any further calls. Undeterred, Graham visited Dr Norwood’s surgery on repeated occasions, publicly berating her. He made a range of malicious allegations, claiming the doctor’s involvement in illegal practices such as euthanasia and abortions, that she was a narcotic addict, and that her medical licence had been suspended. He also informed the waiting room of alarmed patients that Dr Norwood had murdered his wife. After several such visits, Dr Norwood’s receptionist, fearful and on the verge of resigning, called the police. They escorted Graham from the property and advised Dr Norwood to seek a restraining order. Graham refrained from any further calls to the surgery but located the doctor’s home address through the electoral roll (‘I didn’t have any trouble finding her’). The victim received an assortment of newspaper cuttings, delivered to her door, which referred to ‘bad’ doctors who had been deregistered; scrawled across these were accusations that Dr Norwood had avoided similar treatment by ‘sleeping with the judge and the chairman [of the Medical Board]’. He dropped a dead rat in her letterbox with the attached message: ‘This is all you’re safe to practise on’, and photos of a cemetery with her name on all the headstones. Her car was badly vandalised on multiple occasions, both outside the surgery and in the carport of her home. Graham then began to make appearances at the local hospital where Dr Norwood did her rounds, watching her menacingly and informing the nurses and patients that he was a representative from the office of the Health Commissioner investigating a complaint against the doctor. Dr Norwood again reported these activities to the police, who charged Graham with stalking. He was convicted and fined. Incensed, Graham (who had represented himself in court, confident he would be vindicated) intensified his campaign. He denounced the criminal justice system, appalled that the well-paid doctor who had ‘murdered’ his wife escaped scot-free while he – the grieving pensioner husband – was now expected to pay. The phone calls resumed with a vengeance, Graham threatening the doctor’s life and that of her young family. He was promptly returned to court, on this occasion accepting legal representation, and was sentenced to a community disposition

with a condition that he undergo psychiatric assessment and treatment. Graham was surly and resentful on presentation to our clinic. He was very bitter towards the ‘establishment’ and the medical profession in particular. It transpired that he had a long history of dissatisfaction not only with doctors, but with a variety of other agencies. The oldest of three boys, Graham described a difficult and deprived childhood. His father left when Graham was eight years old and they never re-established contact despite learning some years later that his father had won the lottery and remarried. His mother was chronically depressed and Graham assumed responsibility for the care of his younger siblings. When Graham was twelve, the youngest brother was hit by a neighbour’s car while riding his bicycle on the road outside their home. Graham, who witnessed the accident, was distraught when the doctors at the emergency department were unable to save his brother. With news of the death came a further deterioration in his mother’s condition, necessitating her admission to a psychiatric institution. Graham and his surviving brother stayed with an uncle, visiting their mother infrequently. Graham was subsequently informed, weeks before his sixteenth birthday, that his mother had died from an ‘unknown’ cause. Graham was an average scholar who left school at 15 (following his mother’s death) to pursue an apprenticeship as a boilermaker. He was a good worker, and was thrilled to have money to spend for the first time in his life. Then, late one night when returning home from a dance, his car swerved to avoid a cyclist and hit an embankment. Graham sustained several fractured vertebrae and spent some weeks in hospital. Although he made a good recovery he was no longer able to work as a consequence of chronic back pain. He did the rounds of various doctors, angry that they could not offer more effective treatment, and was ultimately placed on an invalid pension. Graham met his wife at a local council rally when he was 26, and they married a few years later. He described the relationship as a very happy one, though money was short. They had few friends and no real social life but found immense comfort and mutual support in each other’s company. He was quite depressed after his motor vehicle accident but refused counselling, ever mindful of his mother’s experience of psychiatry. He denied any other contact with mental health services. At the initial interview, he was noted to be an angry, resentful man who regarded his behaviour towards Dr Norwood as entirely justified. He felt cruelly wronged and abandoned by the ‘system’. He characterised himself as a battler for justice who stood up against the privileged and the powerful on behalf of all victims. He was determined that Dr Norwood should pay (for his wife’s death, but also, it seemed for all the

Resentful and retaliatory stalkers

other losses he had endured in his life as a consequence of the perceived slights, rejections and humiliations). His mood was neither depressed nor elevated and there was no evidence of a psychotic illness. He did not demonstrate any conviction in the scandalous allegations he had levelled at Dr Norwood, these being intended solely to hurt her (‘because nobody else will’). Graham has been seeing a social worker to address his many losses and his associated feelings of guilt, helplessness and abandonment. While he is not admitting any reduction in the anger he feels towards the ‘privileged’ Dr Norwood, there has been no indication of any ongoing stalking activities. He has continued counselling on a voluntary basis after his community correctional order expired.

The resentful and retaliatory type form an important subset of stalkers. They are prominent among those who pursue victims first encountered in their professional

roles. Those who plague health professionals with multiple vexatious complaints and inappropriate contacts and threatening communications fall predominantly into this group. The stalkers who can create chaos in organisations through their surreptitious and damaging accusations and occasional sabotage are also mainly of this type. In addition, they form a small but often disruptive subgroup of those who stalk public figures. Though many resentful stalkers will stop when exposed and confronted with the reality of criminal sanctions, they can be difficult to manage in the therapeutic context, particularly if they add the clinician to their list of the unjust persecutors. That being said, they can also be interesting and rewarding patients if you can reach behind the façade of grumpy victimhood to the actual sources of both distress and discontent as well as the delight in plaguing others.

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7 The intimacy seeker and the incompetent suitor

Introduction The intimacy seekers and incompetent suitors, in combination, account for the majority of stranger stalkers. Both groups are attempting to establish a relationship with the object of their unwanted attentions. Though there are similarities between the intimacy seekers and the incompetent suitors with regard to both their behaviours and the factors which predispose to their embarking on stalking, we will argue below that there are sufficient differences to distinguish between the two types. Those who view stalking primarily in the context of violence against women often emphasise that those who stalk a hoped-for partner are showing insensitivity and the desire to dominate rather than necessarily being psychiatrically disturbed, let alone pursuing some misguided quest for love. Emerson et al. (1998) clearly articulate the view that such stalking is a product of social pathology, not individual psychopathology. They argue that the behaviour arises from a one-sided attempt to create a relationship which ignores the legitimate interests and rights of the object of these unwanted attentions. Emerson et al. (1998) are forthright in their opposition to pathologising the stalker. They write, ‘conceptualising stalking as a result of mental imbalance obscures the relationship bases of many stalkings, and makes the intricate social processes of stalking secondary to the stalkers’ individual psychopathology’ (p. 290). Though we share their view of the importance of social and interpersonal factors, this is not in our view incompatible with also giving a significant role to personal psychopathology in many, if not

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all, stalkers. The social and the psychopathological are not incommensurable perspectives but can be present and interactive in individual cases. There is considerable merit in the notion that some stalking behaviours are the product of the insensitive, inept and grossly overconfident actions of individuals who cannot conceive that their approaches would generate anything less than reciprocal interest. In the survey by Tjaden and Thoennes (1998) many victims considered the stalker’s primary aim was to exert control over them or to gain their approval and attention. In contrast, studies based on clinical or court-referred samples emphasise that among stalkers intent on pursuing the establishment of a relationship there are high levels of psychopathology, including psychotic conditions such as erotomania. The differences in part reflect the fact that community surveys have access only to the assumptions of the victim about the intentions and state of mind of the stalker. It is also a product of the skewed nature of clinic and court samples, which overrepresents the more persistent and outrageous forms of stalking. It is usually necessary to attract considerable attention before being brought to courts, clinics or hospitals. We may speculate that the attitudes of certain males in our society to women or men they ‘fancy’ are conducive to behaviours which unreasonably intrude on those they wish to attract or possess, and that their actions, intentionally or not, arouse fear. As knowledge of the commoner and less dramatic variants of stalking has improved so it has become clear that there are attitudes and states of mind which closely approximate to the normal (statistically, that is) but which are capable of sustaining stalking behaviours. In part we have

Intimacy seekers

attempted to accommodate those who are merely awkward, insensitive or pushy would-be suitors into the category of the incompetent. In contrast, gross psychopathology plays a far greater role in intimacy seekers, who are bent on establishing or asserting a loving or otherwise intimate relationship.

Intimacy seekers Intimacy seekers are usually attempting to establish or assert a loving relationship with the object of their unwanted attentions. A subgroup, however, found predominantly among the stalkers of public figures, are pursuing their hopes for a close friendship in which they will play the role of confidant and counsellor. The first subgroup are seeking romantic intimacy, the second the intimacy of amity.

declaration of affection, even the standard letter thanking them for their support or interest. Any overt rejection can usually be converted into a covert message of love and concern. Even when the target does make clear their lack of interest, the intimacy seeker can fall back on the comfort of knowing that the course of true love never runs smoothly.

The intimacy seeker Context

Loneliness and a lack of love or a confidant.

Victim

Stranger (public figure or casual contact) or acquaintance.

Initial motivation To establish an intimate relationship. Sustaining

The fantasised or delusional relationship

motivation

becomes a substitute for real relationships. The gratifications come from the being in love, or believing oneself to have a friend, not primarily from the receiving of such gifts.

Clinical features This is the only type of stalker where women predominate. In stalking, as elsewhere, the male’s relationship to the pursuit of intimacy tends to be more tenuous than the female’s. The intimacy seekers are typically older than other types of stalker. Intimacy seeking almost always emerges in a context of social isolation in which the stalker lives a life bereft of close relationships. These are lonely people seeking love. Just occasionally intimacy seeking will arise in a narcissistic entitled individual who lacks not social contacts but the quality of lover they believe is their due. They are motivated by the desire to establish or assert an intimate relationship with the person on whom they have fixed their attentions. The intimacy is usually that of a loving relationship, but occasionally it is the close friendship of amity which is sought. Intimacy seeking is sustained probably because it is better to have the fantasy or delusion of love or amity than no close relationship at all. Despite the lack of positive response or even active antagonism from the object of their affections, typically the intimacy seeker is sustained by the hope that they are loved or valued. Any positive response, however trivial, becomes a

This is potentially the most persistent form of stalking. Insulated from reality, inured to most signs of rejection, the intimacy seeker pursues the object of their affections with confidence and hope. The satisfactions of being in love potentially sustain the intimacy seeker indefinitely. Occasionally a rejection will penetrate the intimacy seeker’s defences. This can cause a period of despair or of rage, though they usually re-establish their belief in the future of the relationship.

Psychology In our clinic sample of intimacy seekers the measured levels of intellectual function almost all fell within the normal range, but over half had a verbal IQ 10 or more points lower than their performance IQ (MacKenzie, 2006). This type of stalker was distinguished by having unrealistically positive views of themselves. They almost all denied significant psychological distress, minimised problems with anger and claimed to have secure attachment styles, based usually on their supposed relationship to the victim. Though intimacy seekers had the highest rates of psychotic disorders, they had

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the lowest rates of ascertained personality disorder and none had significant problems with substance abuse.

Psychopathology This type of stalking has the highest proportion of psychotic perpetrators. The younger intimacy seekers (under 35 years) if psychotic are most likely to have a schizophrenic syndrome, though occasionally manic illnesses or psychosis secondary to brain disorders are encountered. Character anomalies of the narcissistic and so-called borderline type may also form a basis for such intimacy-seeking stalking. In the older group pure erotomanias, which currently are classified as delusional disorders, are not infrequently encountered (see Chapter 8) alongside the schizophrenic and organic syndromes. The intimacy seeker believes the object of their attentions is uniquely placed to satisfy their desires. They endow their target with the special qualities of desirability and excellence. The typology of intimacy seekers is a category of lovers. In most cases it is romantic love, but it may occasionally be based in emulation of maternal or fraternal love, or the infantile love of an idealised parent. The intimacy seeker is obsessed with the target (we use obsessed here in its non-technical sense of being intensely preoccupied). Or, to be more precise, they are obsessed with their fantasies about the object of their attentions. Their deepest feelings have been engaged in the hoped-for, or imagined, relationship. Mullen and colleagues (1999), in their study of stalkers, reported that a higher proportion of intimacy seekers were severely mentally disordered than any of the other typologies. Over half had delusions that the individual they were pursuing was in love with them. The remaining subjects also had significant psychopathology, with 15 exhibiting ‘morbid infatuations’ (see Chapter 8) and the remainder having sufficient character disturbance to sustain an unequivocal diagnosis of personality disorder, usually of the narcissistic type. Intimacy seekers are a remarkably persistent type of stalker, on average pursuing their victim for over three years (Mullen et al., 1999), despite repeated rebuffs and the manifest failure of their quest. In part this reflects an intense sense of entitlement. They do not simply

wish for a particular relationship – they are entitled to that relationship. Not infrequently one hears from intimacy seekers words to the effect that their target owes them love, or owes them a response. This supposed debt is for some of these stalkers justified in terms of all they have sacrificed and ‘done’ for the target. The consistent harassment is reconstructed as services rendered and as loving attentions which call out for reciprocal responses. The persistence also reflects the gratification intimacy seekers obtain from their pursuit and hopes, irrespective of signs of success. It is better to love and hope for love, however vainly, than to live an existence bereft of even the distant expectation of love. The intimacy seekers tend to favour less immediately intrusive forms of communication, frequently employing letters (75%) and the telephone (75%). Unsolicited gifts (57%) are not infrequent. They are less likely to follow and maintain surveillance of their target than the rejected and the incompetent, perhaps because they are often shy. In their own eyes, the intimacy seekers are pursuing a course of conduct aimed at establishing an intimate relationship. As one would expect from this situation, declarations of love, invitations to meetings and the giving of keepsakes are common. The rebuffs, rejections or plain indifference with which such communications are received are usually ignored by the intimacy seekers or reframed in a positive light. Occasionally, however, frustration or a rejection which penetrates the stalker’s defences will evoke threats and even occasional violence. Similarly, direct approaches which evoke distress or anger from the object of the stalker’s attentions may occasionally be the trigger to threatening or even violent behaviour. This aggression can either be directed at the victim or at some third party believed to stand between the intimacy seeker and their beloved. As will be discussed in Chapter 8, on erotomania, the intimacy seeker who deludedly believes a relationship already exists with the target may become jealous over what, from their peculiar perspective, is infidelity. CASE EXAMPLE Dennis was referred for a court assessment following a conviction for stalking. He was at the time 32 years old. He had grown up an only child in a disorganised home. His mother, who was

Intimacy seekers

the sole parent, was often absent for long periods. He was cared for during her absences by a mixture of relatives and paid child carers, and was occasionally placed in children’s homes. Frequent changes of school severely disrupted his education, and despite having a measured IQ in the superior range he acquired no academic qualification. Solitary and often bullied at school, he grew up into an isolated man with no close friends and no social or group activities. Dennis had worked in semi-skilled occupations but became bored and left most jobs after a few months. He had started courses in computing but despite excellent grades had withdrawn on each occasion because of the strain of interacting with fellow students and teachers. He had had a few years previously an extended sexual relationship with a woman considerably older than himself who appears to have made few, if any, emotional demands upon him. Dennis had been out of work for over five years when first seen. He lived on social security, renting a room in a boarding house and spending much of his days reading in a local library. Though physically fit, he was prone to concerns over his health. His hypochondriacal tendencies were fed by his reading and expressed in repeated presentations at the surgeries of general practitioners. Two years earlier, on his travels around medical surgeries, Dennis had consulted a female doctor. This particular practitioner had perhaps taken a more careful history, perhaps been more empathic, perhaps recognised both the distress and the untapped potential in her patient. For whatever reason, unlike prior consultations, on this occasion Dennis felt understood and cared about. He returned to the doctor the following week. She made regular weekly appointments during which she began an entirely appropriate exploration of the factors underlying Dennis’s preoccupations with ill health. Dennis began presenting at the surgery between scheduled appointments. The doctor firmly discouraged this but he persisted. Dennis began phoning both the surgery and the doctor’s emergency numbers with increasing frequency. She struggled to control this by offering a scheduled 10 minutes to phone her between appointments, but without success. The doctor began to be troubled by the frequency with which she encountered Dennis when out shopping and when out with her family and friends. Though initially inclined to attribute these meetings to chance, she soon realised their frequency suggested Dennis was putting himself deliberately in her way. The doctor did not confront Dennis, but when he next attended she told him she could no longer see him and had arranged for him to be followed up by her partner. He became distressed and talked of suicide. She relented and made a further appointment for him to see her. The intrusions seemed to decrease. She no longer encountered him away from the surgery, and he phoned

only occasionally between appointments. This continued for a number of weeks. The situation, she thought, had been normalised, until returning home late one night she saw Dennis in her car headlights lurking in the next-door neighbour’s garden. The following night her husband found him again outside their house. Dennis ran away when approached. The doctor, not surprisingly, became alarmed. She wrote a letter to Dennis saying she could no longer see him and asking him to stay away from her. She did offer to arrange for him to be seen at another practice. Perhaps less wisely, at this stage, she also offered to arrange for him to see a psychiatrist. What followed was a barrage of phone calls, letters and approaches both to the surgery and to her home. A court order was obtained restraining him from contacting or approaching the doctor. This was ignored. Visits from the police produced no amelioration in the harassment, and finally Dennis was prosecuted for stalking. Dennis when interviewed spoke glowingly of the doctor. He admitted anger when she had taken out the court order against him but claimed to understand how she might have been made fearful by his repeated intrusions. He said she had been the only doctor who had ever really listened to him and who had understood him. He said he knew she had cared about him and he was convinced that she, and only she, could effectively treat him. He denied any romantic or erotic interest in her, though with no prompting he provided a eulogy on her good looks and vivacious personality. He said he needed her care and her medical skills. At a later session he talked of her as the ideal friend. On yet another occasion he spoke of her as the perfect mother, contrasting the way his mother had treated him with how he believed the doctor mothered her children. Dennis continued to attempt to contact the doctor, occasionally using imaginative approaches such as through the State’s Health Commissioner, the Medical Board and the Ombudsman, pursuing a claim that she was obliged to complete the course of treatment on which they had embarked. Eventually he accepted counselling from a male psychologist with whom he formed a good therapeutic relationship. He has not to date attempted to overstep the bounds of this professional relationship. Dennis’s excessive attachment grew out of a situation of profound loneliness. He created around the doctor a fantasy of the perfect physician who would rescue him from his physical and mental ills. (Though the doctor behaved appropriately throughout, it is possible the rescue fantasies were not confined to the patient). Dennis also described elaborate fantasies of moving in to live with the doctor, not as a lover but as a child to be cared for by her and her husband. She was for him the only person who could help him. She was irreplaceable and the embodiment of all the medical and maternal virtues. She was to be his saviour, and no substitute would be accepted.

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He ruminated about her for hours on end, and at the height of his infatuation she dominated his every thought.

Incompetent suitors Clinical features The stalkers who fall into the incompetent typology cover a wide range of individuals, many of whose behaviours and attitudes differ only in a minor, albeit critical, degree from the mass of their fellow citizens. Incompetent suitors are all to some extent impaired in their social skills and most particularly in their courting skills. In some the impairment would seem to be closer to a wilful ignorance, or cavalier indifference, than any actual deficit in social knowledge and aptitude. At one end of the spectrum of incompetent suitors we have the intellectually limited and socially severely impaired who pursue those who attract their romantic interest with a gaucheness and insensitivity born of profound interpersonal incapacity. At the other extreme are individuals approximating to a feminist’s caricature of a typical male: an assertive, overbearing, insensitive egoist who cannot conceive that every woman isn’t just waiting to fall into his arms. Somewhere in between lie overeager poorly socialised young people who have yet to learn the basics of courting or even acceptable interpersonal behaviour. Though men predominate, incompetent stalkers can be female as well as male, and can target men as well as women. The incompetent suitor usually harasses any particular victim for relatively brief periods, having the lowest average duration for stalking of any type. They are, however, the group with the highest recidivism rate in terms of embarking on a course of stalking targeting a new victim. The incompetent type usually favours direct approaches over communications such as letter writing. The behaviour of the incompetent type of stalker can be caricatured as that of the inept suitor who fails to abide by the basic social rules governing courting rituals. Spitzberg and Cupach (2001) present a valuable insight into aspects of stalking with their concept of obsessive relational intrusions in courtship persistence. Stalking is viewed as less a dysfunction of an individual

and more as problematic relationships created by the individual’s difficulties negotiating their way through society’s constructions of courtship rituals (Cupach & Spitzberg, 1998; Emerson et al., 1998). Obsessive relational intrusions are defined as ‘repeated and unwanted pursuit and invasion of one’s sense of physical or symbolic privacy by another person, either stranger or acquaintance, who desires and/or presumes an intimate relationship’ (Cupach & Spitzberg, 1998, p. 234). In what could be termed normal or ideal courtship, which would usually emerge on the basis of prior acquaintanceship, the suitor would resort to approaches and declarations of interest with a degree of persistence indicative of serious intent but not in a manner distressing or off-putting. The object of such attentions would be provided space to consider and respond with encouragement or discouragement in the knowledge that their decision would be accorded respect. An unacceptable degree of courtship persistence can be regarded as having its origins in the suitor ignoring the subtle and not so subtle signs of lack of interest or active discouragement. There may even be a perverse tendency to reinterpret rejection as encouragement: no really means yes, anger is interest, fear is coquetry. Spitzberg and Cupach (2001) suggest such persistence is often sustained by cultural stereotypes of token resistance and of all-conquering love. The essential feature of their model is that it is interactional and interdependent, and that the responses of the courted also play a role in fostering persistence. The courted may inadvertently encourage persistence out of misplaced politeness or because they are initially flattered by the attentions before giving signs of lack of interest. Equally understandable, a degree of ambivalence may provide the suitor with mixed messages which contribute to prolonging and complicating the pursuit. This type of courtship persistence is relatively common, and though it may be associated with stalking behaviours it is more likely to evoke embarrassment and irritation in both parties than fear in the object of the unwanted attentions. This courtship persistence can be a prelude, however, to what Spitzberg and Cupach (2001) refer to as the obsessive relational pursuit of the incorrigible suitor.

Incompetent suitors

The incorrigible suitor, it is suggested, experiences a sense of compulsion to continue and becomes preoccupied with the person to whom they have become attached. This sense of being impelled to continue pursuing in the face of discouragement can be associated with conflict both over the benefits of continuing and over the chances of inflicting distress. Such insights into the problems of continued pursuit may be overcome by the mechanism of selective memory to deemphasise the elements of rejection and highlight potential encouragement. The incorrigible suitor also tends to respond to discouragement by intensifying rather than moderating or abandoning their quest. This may reflect isolation, desperation and misplaced enthusiasm. The target of the suitor who has become incorrigible is likely to respond to the difficulty of discouraging the approaches with annoyance and distress. Though they may fear they have mistakenly encouraged the suitor, equally they may resort to selective memory to reconstruct the suitor as acting in flagrant disregard of their wishes and as simply victimising them. The studies of Sinclair and Frieze (2000, 2005) are particularly illuminating. They studied a large cohort of students who had described themselves either as having experienced loving someone who had not reciprocated their feelings (pursuers), or as the reverse, not requiting the love of another (targets). Targets of unrequited love, particularly women, perceived themselves as being both the target of unwanted courtship tactics and as having made numerous attempts to discourage the unwanted approaches, including explicit statements of disinterest. The pursuers tended to over-report receiving encouragement and under-report discouragement. The levels of intimidatory and physically violent behaviours were far from negligible (20–30%). Behaviours involving imposing unwanted approaches and surveillance approached 100%. Fear was not, however, a common response in the targets. The study gave little support to the notion of targets inviting pursuit, even inadvertently, by their responses, but supported continued pursuit reflecting primarily the pursuer’s reactions to rejection. The pursuers tended to perceive their targets as being flattered or interested in their approaches. They either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear

rejection, though their apparent failure to recognise the signs of lack of interest might, it was suggested, be a retrospective justification for their persistence and intrusiveness. Sinclair and Frieze (2005) conclude that understanding perception is an important element in understanding the how and the why of stalking, but that though pursuers may think they are acting out of love in accordance with their notions of courtship that does not justify persistent insensitive and distressing pursuit. These models are useful in articulating the interactive elements and the complexity of the failed suit. In the incompetent suitors who find their way into clinics and courts the interdependence of the pursuit often tends, however, to be not just less obvious but absent. The targets of the incompetent suitors we see most frequently were strangers to the stalker, and their initial response was more likely to be marked by surprise, confusion, annoyance or frank fear than any ambivalence or sense of being flattered. Equally, the suitor is usually from the outset intrusive, insensitive and sometimes entitled, showing little concern or awareness of the responses of the person they are pursuing. The other difference between most of the incompetent suitors we see and the persistent or incorrigible courtship of Spitzberg and Cupach and the studies of Sinclair and Frieze is the time scale over which it unfolds. Our group typically make repeated intrusions in a context where such approaches would be very unlikely to be welcomed. The approaches occur over relatively brief periods, from hours to a few days, though the pursuit may be intense while it continues. The courtship stalking suggests a more gradual development over longer periods and within a context where normal courtship might well occur. Combining the two sets of observations and conceptualisations quite usefully produces a spectrum from the failed attempts at relationship building of everyday life through to frightening episodes of insensitive pursuit. The most important variable seems to us to be the level of insensitivity and entitlement in the suitor, with the role of the pursued becoming increasingly marginalised as we move from the overly persistent through the incorrigible to the fully fledged incompetent.

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The incompetent suitor Context

The stalking emerges in the context of loneliness or lust.

Victim

Stranger or casual contact.

Initial motivation The initial motivation is to establish contact, usually with a stranger, which they hope will lead to a friendship or a sexual relationship. The approaches tend to be crude and insistent. They are either indifferent or blind to the signs of disinterest or even distress their approaches evoke. Sustaining

The lack of positive response from the

motivation

target of their unwanted attentions, or finally understanding that the approaches are unwanted, usually removes the motivation for more persistent pursuit. Occasionally, however, the insensitivity is such that they continue hopeful and in pursuit for a more extended period. The extended pursuits are more common where the victim is known to the stalker, at least by sight, as with work colleagues, fellow students, customers or simply users of the same public transport.

The two cases of stalkers with intellectual disabilities reported by Lindsay et al. (1998) are also illustrative of incompetent suitors. Both men made crude and sexually explicit approaches to women to whom they were attracted, and persisted in repeatedly approaching and propositioning these women despite clear indications that the attentions were unwanted. Underlying these incompetent attempts to establish a relationship were reportedly assumptions about what constituted appropriate courting, such as staring at women being a good way of showing you are attracted to them, and that the victims had encouraged their approaches by smiling and laughing with them.

Psychology and psychopathology The incompetent suitors, in contrast to the intimacy seekers, have relatively low levels of psychotic disorders but higher levels of personality pathology, particularly

narcissistic and obsessive. They also have difficulties with anxiety and depressive symptoms as well as substance abuse. Anger does not emerge as a problem area for this group (MacKenzie, 2006). Compared to other stalker types, the incompetent have the lowest levels of education and measured IQ, with verbal scores being depressed even further than performance. As a group their verbal IQ scores cluster around the borderline/low-average ranges, with their performance scores well in the average range (MacKenzie, 2006). Put simply, this suggests people with a greater ability to understand the patterns which make up their world than they have the verbal skills to express or manipulate those patterns. The incompetent suitors often describe themselves as troubled with feelings of insecurity and inferiority, though a small subgroup of overconfident, even grandiose, incompetents also exists. Stalking is not the product simply of ineptitude in approaching those to whom the stalker is attracted. Stalking involves repeated and persistent intrusions, and the social incompetence needs to be combined with either a sense of entitlement or some other attitude conducive to repeatedly inflicting unwanted contact on another. CASE EXAMPLE One of the men seen in our clinic was severely disabled by a lack of appropriate social skills. He was of good intelligence but had had lifelong problems interacting with others. There were elements in his history suggestive of Asperger’s syndrome, with an obsessive interest in train timetables dating from early childhood and a fascination with watching the flickering of flames. This man had never had any close relationships. He had, however, held a job for several years involving detailed but repetitive tasks. His peculiarities had been tolerated by fellow workers until he kept approaching a young female co-worker and inviting her out. Despite her firm refusals he continued to repeat his request and took to following her home and standing outside her house. He finally lost his job because of his refusal, or inability, to curb the harassment of this woman. Interestingly, once he stopped going to work he made no further attempts to approach this particular young woman. No legal proceedings were instituted. Some time later he began to attend discos. This was on the advice of a man of his own age whom he remembered from school and whom he had approached in the

Incompetent suitors

street to ask how to find a girlfriend. His technique in the disco was to stand in front of any woman who took his fancy and ask her to dance. Given his unprepossessing appearance (he dressed in a peculiar manner with cardigan, wool shirt and baggy trousers reminiscent of the 1950s) his offer was always declined. This led to his following the young woman around the room, either repeating his request or demanding an explanation for the refusal. After repeating this performance a few times he was invariably ejected from the venue, and was soon permanently banned from these establishments. He was referred to the clinic after repeatedly approaching and pestering a young woman at a local train station with requests for a date. He had harassed this woman on a daily basis for several months before finally being arrested and charged. When seen, he expressed considerable anger at being forced to come for assessment. He made clear his view that he had done nothing wrong and had as much right as any man to have a girlfriend. He believed the fault, if fault there was, lay in the persistent refusal of those he had chosen to approach to accept his offers of a date. When he had finished ventilating his irritation he suddenly demanded of the interviewer how he managed to ‘get dates’. In response to the demur that such activities were long in the past he leaned over the desk, grabbed the interviewer by the lapels and forcefully repeated his request to be told ‘how to do it’. It emerged later in therapy with this man that in the months prior to referral he had been planning to abduct a young woman and keep her imprisoned as his girlfriend. He had read The Collector, by John Fowles, and decided this might offer a more successful way of obtaining a girlfriend for his long-term use.

This case illustrates the ineptitude, the sense of entitlement and the utter disregard of the other’s wishes and feelings. To relate, for this man, was to own and to acquire the use of. Those he approached were devoid of qualities other than being attractive to him. Their individuality, like their personal preferences, was of no interest to him. This is an extreme example produced by profound disturbance in this man’s capacity to understand other people as autonomous beings whose interests should be respected. The vast majority of the incompetent type are, as noted earlier, men and women without gross or obvious psychopathology. We suspect that many of those who in community surveys report stalking experiences when strangers or distant acquaintances pursue and harass them are falling victim to the

incompetent type of stalker. Most such perpetrators are never assessed, given that these events are often relatively short-lived, and even if they are more extended they rarely lead to prosecution. When we see such individuals in our clinic it is usually because they have come to notice for other reasons. CASE EXAMPLE In one instance a man in his thirties was referred for reports following a guilty plea to criminal damage. He had vandalised the car of a young woman who worked as one of the bar staff in a large hotel. He had not had any prior convictions. He was a man of good intelligence who worked in a skilled occupation earning high wages. A long-term relationship had ended some months earlier. He had begun going to a local hotel with a reputation as a meeting place for young singles. His approaches to various women had been unsuccessful. This may have been because he was 10 or 15 years older than most of the customers. He had noticed a young woman tending the bar with whom he had had a number of brief conversations. He formed the opinion she was attracted to him. He invited her out. She laughed off the invitation. He asked her again a few days later and she made an excuse about hotel policy. Failing to see this as a polite brush-off, he phoned her at work the next night to repeat his invitation. This time she was even clearer in her rejection of the offer. Later that night, after he had uncharacteristically consumed a considerable quantity of alcohol, he phoned her again. On the second occasion he acknowledged he was ‘out of order’ and made a number of crude suggestions. Somewhat chastened, he returned to the hotel the next night, allegedly to apologise. She avoided coming near him but he was adamant she kept looking over in his direction, giving him encouraging and inviting glances. He began phoning her repeatedly to apologise and ask her out. She stopped taking the calls and he was asked to stop phoning. He came once more to the hotel demanding to see her. There was a confrontation with other staff and he was ejected. Later that night he vandalised her car. He admitted he knew which car was hers as he had watched her leave work on a number of occasions. When seen in the clinic he was apologetic about both the damage to the car (he had made full financial restitution) and the one obscene call he had made when intoxicated. He insisted, however, that she had fancied him and led him on. He saw himself as more victim than victimiser. He had read her statement about the fear and distress his behaviour had caused her, but the only part of the statement which seemed to have impacted on him was her reference to his being middle-aged and fat (he was particularly proud of his gym-sculpted biceps).

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This combination of an assertive insensitivity with a narcissistic assumption that any approach from them will be bound to be welcome is, we suspect, a relatively common accompaniment of stalking behaviour in the community. Though commoner among men, it is not gender-specific. CASE EXAMPLE A further example of what we would regard as an incompetent stalker was referred to our clinic by a private psychiatrist. The patient, a man in his early twenties, had been taken to the psychiatrist by his mother, who had been alarmed after hearing from him that he had been banned from one of the university computer labs because he had been accused of sexual harassment. This young man had always been shy and awkward, with few friends. He was of high intelligence with a facility for maths and computers. He had successfully completed his degree in computer studies and was now finishing off a Masters. He had had, when younger, a number of non-sexual relationships with girls of his own age, usually arranged by his somewhat omnipresent mother and her friends. (He came from an ethnic background where encouraged if not frankly arranged marriages were still far from rare). He still lived at home. His only outlets related to the social were via the internet. As part of his course he was in a tutorial with a female lecturer to whom he became increasingly attracted. He began to email her between tutorials, initially with workrelated questions. Later he asked her via the internet for a date. She declined, and to save his feelings cited university policy on relations between staff members and their students. This he took as encouragement, and he made a couple of direct approaches to her in person. She again politely put him off. From this point he began a campaign which was initially entirely to persuade her to go out with him but became increasingly contaminated by angry and vengeful acts precipitated by what he regarded as her recalcitrance. He sent her numerous emails, many with spurious and misleading provenance. He hacked into her computer and initially rearranged her files and later deleted some of her work in progress. He left frankly obscene material downloaded from the internet in her email. When seen, he continued to insist that the victim wanted a relationship with him because he was her cleverest student. He claimed she was playing hard to get to stimulate him to increasingly ‘clever’ ways of communicating with her. To the man’s credit he became appropriately distressed when he was confronted with a copy of the victim’s statement about how frightened and how violated she had been made to feel by his

actions. He was persuaded to stop his pursuit, in part one hopes from a glimmering of empathy for the victim, but one suspects because it became clear that to persist would have ended his university career.

Management Managing incompetent suitors is far from easy. They respond relatively readily to either judicial sanctions or counselling by stopping their stalking activities. The challenge, however, is to prevent them reverting to stalking when next their attention is captured by what they regard as a potential partner. They often need to improve their social skills, but such improvements are not easily obtained. They need to acquire greater empathy and concern for those they harass, but victim empathy is not easy to instil. Some need to grow up, some just need to understand the nature and importance of culturally appropriate courting rituals. Not a few are improved if their substance abuse is curbed (though they often argue that this takes away their only social skill). As always, the closer someone is to the normal range psychologically and behaviourally the more difficult it can be for mental health professionals to assist in that change.

Intimacy seekers versus incompetent suitors At the core of the incompetent’s stalking is their need for a relationship. At the core of the intimacy seeker’s stalking is their fantasy of love and quest for fulfilment. These two types of stalker share a sense of entitlement, they share a self-centred approach which invests their needs with absolute primacy, and they share a blindness to the real wishes of the person unfortunate enough to have attracted their attention. There is a world of difference, however, between believing that as a result of true love you have embarked on the most important activity in your life, and on the other hand believing that someone should go out with you on a date. Given that no relationship has existed, and that to even a casual observer no relationship seems likely to emerge, it is probable that the judgements of the

Intimacy seekers versus incompetent suitors

intimacy seekers are even more radically disturbed than those of the incompetent suitor. There is a wide spectrum of levels of disjunction between the real situation and the situation supposed by the stalker to pertain. At one extreme lie those with an absolute conviction that the target is in love with them, despite no actions or communications from the supposed lover which would reasonably sustain such a belief. At the other end of the spectrum is an assertion by the stalker of the right to begin a relationship with someone irrespective of their expressed inclinations. In between are those stalkers who, though they believe they love the target of their attentions, know their feelings are not shared but with varying levels of conviction believe eventually their love will be reciprocated. The incompetent suitors are like any aspirant to a relationship in terms of what they desire and how they perceive

the object of their attentions. What differentiates them is the manner in which they push their claims and the importunate and self-centred nature of those claims. Incompetent suitors differ from the majority of those wanting a relationship in relatively minor, albeit important, ways. They are usually essentially normal people disabled by such matters as poor social skills, over-inflated egos and interpersonal insensitivity. As expected, the level of psychopathology found in intimacy seekers is far greater than in the incompetent. The incompetent verge on normal. It is probable the incompetents will be far more numerous in those stalking other members of the community in search of a relationship. On the other hand, given the selection processes which currently operate, those reaching the courts and mental health clinics are more likely to be intimacy seekers.

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8 The erotomanias and the morbid infatuations

Le mystère de l’amour est plus grand que le mystère de la mort1 Oscar Wilde (1893)

Introduction The emergence of stalking as a distinct category of behaviour brought the topic of erotomania into the clinical limelight. The new-found prominence of a syndrome which had previously languished among the uncommon, not to say obscure, psychiatric syndromes highlighted the inadequacy as well as the utilities of what had been a venerable, if little used, conceptualisation. A detailed account of erotomania and its variants will now be provided, in part because such disorders are the origin of many intimacy seekers’ behaviour, in part because it provides the oldest and one of the richest sources of clinical literature relating to stalking. Currently the erotomanias tend to be viewed as conditions characterised by a delusional system that centres on the belief that the sufferer is the object of the love of another (DSM-IV). The erotomanias are considered to exist either as primary (pure) or secondary (symptomatic) conditions. The primary erotomanias are a mono-delusional state unaccompanied by other severe disturbances of mental state such as hallucinations. The secondary erotomanias involve a delusional system arising in the context of a pre-existing

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‘The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.’

psychotic condition, as for example schizophrenia. To a greater or lesser extent each of the elements which constitute this conceptualisation are under challenge. The exclusive emphasis on a delusional belief in being loved, which excludes pathological infatuation, has been questioned (Stone, 1984; Mullen & Pathé, 1994a). The very existence of a primary erotomania has been questioned by those who regard this condition as always a symptom of some more widespread psychotic disturbance (Ellis & Mellsop, 1985). Finally, confining erotomania to delusional disorders has been questioned, a questioning which has become more insistent as mental health professionals struggle to conceptualise the psychopathology of stalkers (Meloy, 1989; Zona et al., 1993; Mullen & Pathé, 1994b).

A history of erotomania Esquirol (1965, originally published 1845) coined the term erotic monomania, which he later conflated to erotomania. He described erotomania as characterised by an exaggerated and irrational sentimental attachment, usually to someone who in reality has little or no relationship to the sufferer. He held that the erotomanic was ‘the sport of his imagination’ (p. 335) and the condition ‘an exaggeration to the extreme limit of the amorous passions’ (p. 339). Esquirol makes a clear link between the more exuberant expressions of love in the non-disordered and the amorous sentiments of the erotomanic, which are distinguished in degree rather than in kind. Among those he includes in, or on the borders of, ‘erotic delirium’ are Aristotle, ‘who burns

A history of erotomania

incense to his wife’ (p. 341), Tasso, who pined for his lover for 14 years, Héloïse and Abelard (where erotomania associates to religious sentiments) and Cervantes’ character Don Quixote. These are all instances where love may well have been taken to extremes, but other than the fictional Don Quixote they did not need to create a fantasy, let alone a delusion, that their love was returned. It is, however, unnecessary to burden this early-nineteenth-century descriptive psychiatrist with a modern nosological framework. Though he writes of erotomania as an exaggeration of the normal passion of love, Esquirol also places it in the category of monomanias, which are, one suspects, intended to constitute a distinct pathological category. The monomanias also included pyromania, homicidal mania, religious mania and reasoning mania. Central to the notion is that the sufferer feels, reasons and acts like the rest of the world except upon a single point. This, for Esquirol, did not rule out the possibility of hallucinations and illusions related specifically to the defining morbid beliefs. Esquirol also makes a special point of the ability of some monomaniacs to persuade others of the truth of their beliefs. Esquirol includes as an example of a monomaniac William Miller, who in the America of the 1840s preached the end of the world, persuading considerable numbers to join him in awaiting the world’s destruction. When the end failed to arrive on time, this led not to disillusionment in Miller, nor to a loss of faith in him by his followers, but to a recalculation of doomsday’s date. The capacity of some monomaniacs to persuade others of the force of their ideas can be of considerable relevance. Not a few erotomanics convince others, including on occasion the courts, that they are telling the truth and the victims of their attentions are attempting to deny their previous commitments and avowals. An erotomanic journalist who stalked a New York surgeon, when finally charged and brought to court, persuaded the judge that she was the injured party rejected by an unfeeling ex-lover (Brenner, 1991). The judge went so far as to indicate to the accused woman that he had sympathy for her plight and made abundantly clear his disdain for what he mistakenly assumed was a philandering doctor who had driven the poor woman to

such desperation and despair. Poetic justice asserted itself, and over subsequent weeks the lady transferred her affections from medical practitioner to jurist and began making amorous approaches to the judge. The judge soon found himself on the wrong end of stalking. When he resorted in his turn to the law for protection the woman found herself imprisoned rather than the object of further judicial sympathy. In one of our cases a man with an erotomanic fixation on an adolescent girl who lived nearby persuaded his elderly parents that he was finally to be married. The parents had made various arrangements for the expected nuptials and were righteously indignant when the police came round investigating the claims by the supposed fiancée that she was being stalked. Even more impressive was another of our patients who, following his killing of a young woman prominent in the entertainment industry, persuaded police, examining psychiatrists and the court at the initial hearing that he had killed her because of her infidelity. His account of their having had a romance lasting many months was only challenged quite late in the hearing when the evidence of her family and friends made clear she had never had any contact with this man outside of his fantasies. Esquirol’s nine case examples of erotomania are a mixed bag. There are two women and a man who are infatuated and convinced their love is returned by the object of their affections; two women and a man who are so absorbed in their love for someone who is unavailable that they pine, and in one case die; two elderly women infatuated with younger men, though it is unclear if they believe their feelings to be reciprocated; and finally one young woman deserted by her erstwhile love who continues to be overwhelmed by melancholy and preoccupied with the lost partner. The cases, like the text, suggest Esquirol is taking a broad view of the precise manner in which the abnormally exaggerated sentiments of love manifest. Equally clear is the description in several of the cases of what we would now term stalking, with repeated following, loitering outside the house of the fantasised lover and sending frequent letters. It is worth resurrecting one of Esquirol’s case studies, albeit in much-abbreviated form.

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An unattached 36-year-old man of melancholy disposition and unprepossessing appearance conceived a passion for a beautiful actress. He made numerous attempts to communicate with her and approached her repeatedly. He followed her and loitered outside both the theatre and her home. She made clear her lack of interest and he was warned off by the lady’s husband and fellow actors, but despite all he continued to pursue her. He watched her nightly at the theatre and became convinced she gave him encouragement by looking in his direction and by her ‘flushed and shining face’. He began to pursue her whenever she appeared in public, and chased after her when she left Paris for the country. He was assaulted on a number of occasions by the lady’s friends and husband, with on one occasion sufficient ferocity to lead to his hospitalisation, but he still was not discouraged. He was convinced she was being forcibly prevented from either speaking to him or responding to his overtures. He spent his whole income on the pursuit of the lady, and most of his waking hours were taken up with the quest. Esquirol, with a brutal directness lost to modern practitioners, put the following question to the man: ‘How could you believe she loves you … you have nothing engaging about you … you [are] not handsome … you possess neither rank nor fortune.’ His reported response was, ‘All that is true, but love does not reason, and I have seen too much to leave me in doubt that I am loved’. (Esquirol, 1965, pp. 337–9)

This is a clear account of an individual who stalked, in our modern sense, and who laboured under the conviction that his love was reciprocated despite ample evidence, apparent to the outside observer, that there were no grounds for such hopes. The term erotomania came to be used in three distinct ways during the nineteenth century. In addition to the erotomania of Esquirol there was the longestablished category of the love melancholies, in which a wide range of symptoms, including, but not restricted to, those we would recognise as depression, were attributed to sentimental or erotic attractions which had been either unrequited or indulged in excessively (Burton, 1621; Harvey, 1672 (quoted in Hunter & McAlpine, 1963)). There were also the erotic manias (also known as nymphomania and satyriasis), which were described vividly by Isaac Ray (1839) as ‘states of the most unbridled excitement, filling the mind with a crowd of voluptuous images, and ever hurrying its victim to acts of the grossest licentiousness’ (pp. 192–3).

This enviable form of erotic disorder was also on occasion extended to incorporate those sexual behaviours we now pusillanimously refer to as the paraphilias (Macpherson, 1889). Esquirol was at pains to distinguish such nymphomania and satyriasis, with their ‘evil’ origins in the ‘organs of reproduction whose irritation reacts upon the brain’ (p. 335), from the amorous sentiments of his erotomania. Love melancholy, however, appears, at least in the case examples, to be incorporated into Esquirol’s concept of erotomania. Contemporary writers who seek, and find, the origins of erotomania in the writings of classical Greece and Rome are usually annexing descriptions of love melancholy to erotomania (e.g. Enoch & Trethowan, 1979). Krafft-Ebing (1904, originally published 1879), who preferred the term erotic paranoia to erotomania, wrote ‘the nucleus of the whole malady is the delusions of being distinguished and loved by a person of the opposite sex who regularly belongs to one of the higher classes of society … the love, as should be emphasised [is] romantic, enthusiastic, but absolutely platonic’ (p. 408). Kraepelin (1921, originally published 1913) also placed erotomania firmly among the paranoias, giving the pre-eminent clinical description: ‘the patient perceives that a person of the other sex distinguished really or presumedly by high position is kindly disposed to him … an intercepted glance, a chance meeting … let this hidden love become certainty to the patient … Very soon every chance occurrence, clothing, meetings, reading, conversation acquire for the patient a relation to his imagined adventure … the whole colouring of the love is visionary and romantic … finally the patient resolves on further steps. He promenades before the window of the adored one, sends letters … but [if] things take an unfavourable turn the loved one can become the enemy and the persecutor of the patient’ (pp. 245–9). Kraepelin’s English contemporary Hart (1912) seemed to imply that erotomania was specifically a malady of aged females when he wrote ‘in Old Maids’ Insanity an unmarried lady of considerable age, and blameless reputation, begins to complain of the undesirable attentions to which she is subjected by some male acquaintance … [who she explains] is obviously anxious to marry her and persistently follows her about’ (p. 122). Hart proceeds to explain this ‘by no

A history of erotomania

means uncommon sequence of events’ as follows: ‘The patient’s sex instincts have been allowed no normal outlet, and have finally become sternly repressed … the repressed instincts obtain expression, however, by the mechanism of projection’ (p. 123). The unacknowledged erotic passion is, according to Hart, projected onto the object of affection, who is then experienced as the unseemly and intrusive suitor. Kretschmer (1918) considered erotomania to be based on an exaggeration of those dispositions to be found in normal lovers, and therefore concluded that it could involve both beliefs that one was loved and a morbidly enhanced infatuation. In total contrast, the French psychiatrist de Clérambault (1942), whose name has come to be attached specifically to this syndrome, argued strongly that the term erotomania should be confined to those who believe they are loved and who insist that the supposed lover both initiated the relationship and remains the primary pursuer. He added to existing descriptions an emphasis on a sudden explosive onset, and that the erotomanic insist that they are either responding to the other’s supposed advances or have made every effort to discourage the claimed interest. De Clérambault also modified the previous literature’s emphasis on the love being sentimental and platonic, recognising that overt carnal desires and clearly sexual behaviours could form part of the clinical picture. De Clérambault (1942) described two broad groups of erotomanics: the primary or pure erotomanic and those with secondary or symptomatic erotomanias. His pure syndrome is a direct descendent of Esquirol’s monomania, Krafft-Ebing’s erotic paranoia and Kraepelin’s paranoiac megalomania, erotic type. The secondary category of de Clérambault can be regarded as elaborating the descriptions of erotic delusions which appear in Bleuler’s (1950, originally published 1911) famous monograph which established the notion of the schizophrenias. Bleuler described a variety of ‘erotic delusions’ arising as part of schizophrenic disorders, and wrote, ‘the erotic delusions consist mostly of a mixture of grandiose and persecutory ideas … with women it is mainly a question of marrying into a higher social class … the male patient believes every woman who strikes his fancy is in love with him … very often the beloved becomes the persecutor (or the love is

complicated by jealousy) (pp. 121–2). De Clérambault recognised that it was not just the schizophrenias, but that any disorder capable of generating delusions could have erotic fixations as a content of those delusions. It is de Clérambault whose work has had the greatest influence on the development of contemporary psychiatry’s conceptualisations of erotomania, at least in the English-speaking world (despite, or perhaps because of, his works remaining largely untranslated). Erotomania is still referred to, on occasion, as de Clérambault’s syndrome. De Clérambault deserves to be remembered for his delineation of ‘les psychoses passionelles’, of which erotomania was but one form (Baruk, 1974; Mullen, 1997). There was in fact little originality in de Clérambault’s description of erotomania itself, and that which was original has not survived the test of time. De Clérambault, however, left a legacy which continues to bedevil psychiatric nosology. He firmly shifted the emphasis in erotomania to an exclusive focus on delusions in which there is an absolute and central belief that the object of the patient’s disordered affections loves them and initiated the supposed relationship. The initial re-emergence in more recent times of erotomania in the English-language literature was in large part due to a number of influential reviews and reformulations (Hollender & Callahan, 1975; Seeman, 1978; Enoch & Trethowan, 1979; Segal, 1989). The most significant stimulus, at least prior to the emergence of stalking as a major issue, was, however, undoubtedly the inclusion into DSM-III-R of erotomania as a specific form of delusional disorder. It is difficult to overestimate the importance of this decision by the committee compiling the DSM to revive the much-maligned categories of paranoia in the form of delusional disorders. For better or for worse, and we believe it is both, the DSM has become the dictionary for contemporary mental health professionals which confers, or withdraws, legitimacy to the many and varied constructions of disordered and dysfunctional states of mind (Mullen, 2006). The imprimatur of the DSM gave erotomania a new lease of life. The delusional disorder grouping revived in DSM-III-R owed much to Kraepelin’s category of paranoia, but the erotomania was pure de Clérambault.

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Pathologies of love The nature of love has largely been the province of poets, novelists and artists. The psychiatric and psychological literature has tended to be reductionist, suggesting love is, if not frank self-deception, merely a cover for raw sexuality or for such things as the mysterious forces of libido or a clinging form of object relationship (Bowlby, 1969; Harlow, 1974; Buss, 1994; Frijda, 1986). A scholarly literature, mainly from philosophers, has accorded love some respect as an emotional experience in and of itself (Scheler, 1954; Singer, 1966, 1987; Solomon, 1980; Scruton, 1986). The infatuation of falling in love and being in love are suggested to be separable states of affairs (Fisher, 1990). Infatuation does not necessarily require encouragement or even a response from the object of these affections. In normal individuals, however, if the love fails to elicit a favourable response the would-be lover usually will eventually abandon the hopes for a relationship and gradually detach their affections from the lost cause. Some sense of sadness and residual longing for the failed romance may remain, but the rejected suitor is left emotionally able to seek new attachments (Baumeister & Wotman, 1992). Occasionally unrequited love in normal people may not wither but, by an act of self-abnegation, continue without the expectation, or demand, for a response (Fisher, 1990). The borderline between the banalities of broken hearts and the realms of the pathological is approached when fantasy and self-deception begin to substitute for a lack of response from the beloved. Blocked from progress into the mutuality of attraction, desire and benevolent concern, which constitutes being in love, the erotomanic turns to assertion and unfounded conviction. Theirs is not the sad acceptance of lost love but the strident claim that love is, or will be, theirs, irrespective of the apparent behaviour and stated feelings of the beloved. Love for the erotomanic is transformed from a communion with another into a lonely, idiopathic but utterly preoccupying erotic fixation. Though current definitions of erotomania allow only for a pathological state of believing one is loved, morbid infatuations also occur, and in clinical practice most pathologies of love involve a mixture of both infatuation and a belief in being loved (Mullen & Pathé, 1994a).

Pathological beliefs of being loved (erotomania) De Clérambault’s focus on a false belief of being loved in defining the psychopathology of erotomania appears understandable, given that he was constructing erotomania primarily as a paranoid or delusional disorder. A claim to be loved, and to have had that love revealed by specific actions and events, is usually open to falsification. The assertion that one loves another, however, is difficult to argue with, let alone declare to be false, particularly when no accompanying claim is made that the affection is returned. The falseness of the beliefs was held by many psychiatrists to be a theoretical prerequisite for that belief to be considered delusional. In practice, however, it is not so much the falsifiability of the central belief which indicates a delusional development but rather the reasons advanced for the belief.2 In erotomania it is rarely necessary to question the object of the patient’s disordered affections to establish that the supposed lover does not harbour an undying passion for the patient. For example, it hardly seemed necessary to check with the supposed lover of one of our patients when she declared she realised he loved her when one morning in the lift at work he spoke to her about the difficulties he had had with the traffic that morning. This banal, not to say boring, conversational gambit was, the patient insisted, a declaration of love. She did not, as far as could be told, distort or elaborate what he said, but simply endowed it with an utterly implausible meaning. Even in a postmodern world an exegesis of a text consisting of an account of traffic 2

Current definitions of delusion often begin by emphasising the falseness of the belief. The inadequacy of falseness as a criterion is that we are often dealing with convictions which are either unverifiable (as for example many instances of jealousy) or depend on perspective and balance (as in the paranoid litigant), which places the assertions in the realm of probabilities, not truth and falsity. Clear delusions may have at their core an essentially correct evaluation of the world (as with delusional jealousy) or may depend on personalised extensions of widely accepted beliefs (that there is a God who does direct, and in various ways communicate with, his/her creations). It is from Jaspers’ approach, particularly his emphasis on the way the delusion emerges and the effects on the life of the patient, that a more clinically robust understanding and recognition of delusions is to be obtained (Jaspers, 1963).

Pathological beliefs of being loved (erotomania)

problems in terms of an amorous declaration seems to be stretching the prerogatives of the listener (reader) somewhat far. This woman later stated that she had had her beliefs in his love confirmed by his angry demand she cease writing him embarrassing and inappropriate love letters. The assumption of disorder in such patients depends in large part on the eccentric, if not bizarre, grounds on which they base their convictions of being loved, and their remarkable capacity to reinterpret even the clearest of rejections as encouragement, if not outright expressions of love. One of our patients earnestly recounted how he had approached the object of his affections in the street to declare his love and she had responded by telling him to ‘fuck off’ and leave her alone. When it was suggested that this might indicate she wanted nothing to do with him he happily explained that, on the contrary, it was another hopeful indication of their developing intimacy, for after all fucking was part of loving! The other elements which suggest pathology are the degree of preoccupation with the supposed lover and the extent to which these preoccupations disrupt the afflicted individual’s functioning. Pathological beliefs in being loved can be characterised as involving: 1. A conviction that one is loved, despite the supposed lover having done nothing to encourage or sustain that belief, but on the contrary having either made clear their lack of interest or remaining unaware of the claimed relationship. 2. A propensity to reinterpret the words and actions of the supposed lover to maintain the belief in the supposed romance. 3. A preoccupation with the supposed love which becomes the central element in the disordered individual’s existence. These three essential criteria are often accompanied by: 4. A conviction that the claimed relationship will eventually be crowned by a permanent and loving union. 5. Repeated attempts to approach or communicate with the supposed lover (that is, in effect, to stalk them). Pathological beliefs in being loved may be clearly delusional, as where the love is revealed in some

extraordinary manner and extends to affect a wide area of the patient’s experience of the world (for instance, as with a patient who became convinced the telephone and mail service were in league with the Secret Service to interrupt the communications of love from the object of his affections). On occasion, however, there is a plausibility about the notion of an actual or potential relationship, and even some acknowledgement by the patient that they could be over-hopeful, or premature, in their claims for their love being reciprocated. In the great period for descriptive psychopathology, which reached its height in the work of Jaspers (1963), delusion could arise not only as the product of process disorders, such as schizophrenia, but also out of developments (or, as we would now call them, personality disorders) and reactions. Delusion was not a privileged indicator of psychosis and disease process, but an abnormal mental phenomenon which could emerge in a variety of ways. At one end of the spectrum was the direct disruption of brain function by, for example, a tumour, while at the other extreme was the interaction of a sensitive personality with a hostile environment, as with the persecutory states associated with immigration (Ungvari & Mullen, 1997). The narrowing of concepts of delusion in psychiatry has been part of a process of constructing specific disease entities with their ‘about to be discovered’ neuropathologies and their already-available specific treatments consisting of the pharmaceutical companies’ latest magic bullets. DSM-III and DSM-IV are the most obvious and influential embodiment of this ideology, which dominates modern psychiatry and increasingly clinical psychology. Classic psychiatric notions of psychopathology understood disorders as arising as a result of complex interactions between developmental experiences, current social and cultural influences, personality and occasionally disease process. These ideas have largely been lost, surviving only in the anaemic notion of the biopsychosocial model, to which lip service is paid more often than serious theoretical attention. The rich tapestry of human experience is cut up into pieces which are reified into specific disorders, each with its operational criteria and particular nostrum. This process of constructing specific disease categories works for other areas of medicine, so why not for psychiatry? The

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answer is that it works for medicine, as it does for psychiatry, when one is in fact dealing with specific disease entities whose necessary, even if not sufficient, cause lies in a specific organic (biological) lesion or disease process. Just as such approaches fall down when dealing with, for example, essential hypertension, so they all too often choke on the clinical complexity of much psychiatric disorder. In the area of erotomania the occasional strengths of a categorical approach are obvious (mainly in the secondary or symptomatic erotomanias), but equally the limitations become painfully constraining in the primary or pure syndromes.

Pathological infatuations (borderline erotomania) The definition promulgated in DSM-IV (APA, 1994), which continues to embody the influence of de Clérambault, requires that erotomania be equated with ‘a delusion that another person, usually of a higher status, is in love with the individual’ (p. 765). The potential implications of such exclusivity were dramatically illustrated in the trial of John Hinckley, who in 1981 attempted to assassinate President Reagan. Hinckley had developed an intense and preoccupying infatuation with actress Jodie Foster and had claimed that his desire to attract her attention lay behind the attack on the president. He is reported as writing, ‘Jodie I would abandon this idea of getting Reagan in a second if I could only win your heart’, and saying ‘my assassination attempt was an act of love … I’m sorry love has to be so painful’ (Low et al., 1986; Caplan, 1987). Evidence was given at the trial to indicate that Hinckley did not have erotomania because he at no time claimed that Jodie Foster loved him or even currently reciprocated his interest. The consuming infatuation with Jodie Foster, which had directly led, through a tortured reasoning process, to his attempt to kill the president, was not considered capable of sustaining a diagnosis of delusional disorder because Hinckley made no claim that Jodie Foster had reciprocated his affections. (Low et al., 1986; Goldstein, 1987; Meloy, 1989). Hinckley was eventually found insane on quite other grounds, creating such an outcry that it shook the time-honoured

approach to the insanity defence to its core (Steadman et al., 1993). The question of a severe mental disorder based on a morbid infatuation, though important, was just one of the diagnostic issues in this trial, in which clinical experience confronted the word of DSM-III, and the word won (Stone, 1984). The problems created by insisting on a criterion which gives absolute priority to de Clérambault’s delusion of being loved is further illustrated by the two following case histories (from Mullen, 1997). CASE EXAMPLE A 36-year-old man, when first seen, had pursued a young woman with declarations of love and offers of marriage for eight years. He was the only child of an elderly couple. The father had been effectively absent from the home and the mother an intrusive and domineering presence. Socially isolated at school and with only one friend during adolescence, he had nevertheless completed an apprenticeship and established with the friend a thriving business. Some months prior to his first encounter with the young woman he had gone on holiday with his friend and business partner and though the precise events were never revealed there appears to have been a confrontation with his sexuality and possibly the homosexual elements in their relationship. This led to a complete severance of contact with his only companion. He became preoccupied with the need to marry and to find a pure and virginal bride. He began frequenting discos and clubs. One evening he encountered a 15-year-old girl whom he immediately recognised as his ‘God-chosen bride’. This recognition was based on her wearing predominantly white, and an air or emanation he discerned from observing her. He asked her to dance, she accepted. He approached her a second time but, whether due to his manner or to his lack of terpsichoreal skill, she declined to repeat the performance. He returned to the same club the next night in the hope of seeing her but was disappointed. He eventually managed to trace her and ascertain where she lived. He sent flowers and an invitation to go out. She wrote a polite refusal. He repeated the process several times and received a response from her parents that they and their daughter wished him to cease these attentions. He began following her in the street. He would stand in a park opposite her house at night. He continued to send letters. An elder sister approached him and demanded he stop harassing the young woman. He continued. The family contacted the police and were informed that no offence had been committed (this being in the days prior to antistalking legislation). The father and an elder brother confronted him one night as he kept vigil outside their house and

Pathological infatuations (borderline erotomania)

threatened him. The next night he returned armed with a firearm which he brandished when approached. He was arrested. On release from police custody, having received a noncustodial sentence, he returned to his pursuit of the young woman. By this time his business had collapsed. His every waking moment was occupied with pursuing her or with thoughts of her. He had exhausted his financial resources in part by buying flowers and gifts (which were repeatedly returned), but also by paying for cosmetic surgery in the belief that if his receding hairline, slightly off-centre nose and possibly overprominent ears were corrected she would respond to his approaches. This man’s dogged pursuit of the object of his affections continued for years. He was imprisoned and committed to hospital (though not treated), but this produced only interruptions in his quest. The family moved, the young woman changed her name and she married, but still he was there. When examined over these years he insisted she would one day be his wife and that they were destined for each other, but he recognised that she was currently frightened of him and had never borne him any affection. He believed her mind had been poisoned against him by her family, particularly by the sister, whom on one occasion he had assaulted. He was convinced, however, that eventually she would see through these falsehoods and recognise in him her destiny.

CASE EXAMPLE The second case involved a man in his late forties who became infatuated with a woman of a similar age. This man was the youngest of a large family and had had a close relationship with his mother. He was apparently socially successful at school and in adolescence, and in adult life he had considerable success working as a salesman. He had had numerous brief heterosexual affairs. He was a heavy drinker and in later life a regular smoker of marijuana. He dressed immaculately and had an expensive sports car, even though in recent years he lacked the finances to support such an indulgence. On first meeting he radiated charm, with an easy and expansive manner and an engaging verbal fluency. On closer acquaintance, however, it became obvious that he was vulnerable to even the slightest criticism and was prone to blame and accuse others for any reversal, however minor. In the two or three years prior to his meeting the object of his affections his life had been going badly. His business had collapsed and his attempt to redress the decline through dishonest handling had resulted in a prison sentence. His substance abuse had increased. He had alienated most of his acquaintances and all of his surviving family. His boyish charm had abandoned him and he no longer had much, if any, success in finding sexual partners. The object of his affections was a

senior civil servant whom he had encountered while trying to establish yet another business. Initially taken by his charm, she had gone out with him on two occasions. He claimed, but she denied, that they had had sexual intercourse. She had become disenchanted with him and declined further invitations. He began phoning her repeatedly at home and at work. She had her calls monitored to prevent this. He wrote numerous letters. She returned them unopened. He took to intruding on her at work. She had him barred from the building. He followed her in the street and repeatedly came to her flat. She obtained a court order restraining him from approaching her or her flat. He responded by breaking into her flat so when she returned home he had literally moved in. She called the police. He was bound over to keep the peace. He broke into her flat once more and when she attempted to call for help threatened and eventually struck her. He was imprisoned but on release took a taxi from the door of the prison to her flat. He was serving a third prison sentence when eventually assessed by our service. He made no claim that she loved him, going only as far as stating a belief that she might have been beginning to fall for him and because she was afraid of a developing relationship had stopped seeing him. He accepted she was now terrified of him because of his acknowledged inept attempts to win back her affections. He was adamant, however, that he loved her and she was the perfect partner. He was convinced he would eventually wear down her resistance and she would give him another chance. He was certain they were destined for each other. He thought about her constantly and ruminated on potential strategies to gain her love and attention.

The challenge cases such as these present to the current psychiatric orthodoxy with regard to erotomania has become more insistent with the emergence of stalking as a category of criminal offending. The courts are now turning increasingly to mental health professionals for explanations of stalking behaviours and remedies which will prevent such behaviour continuing. Among those who stalk are those who are convinced the object of their attentions loves them. Such individuals can be comfortably accommodated in current definitions of erotomania. Equally, a group of individuals have been recognised who, though they persistently pursue the object of their affections, make no strong claims that their love is reciprocated. Such individuals have been considered to constitute a subgroup of erotomania, termed borderline erotomanics by Meloy (1989) and pathological infatuations by

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Mullen & Pathé (1994a). Meloy (1998a, 1999) refers to an ‘extreme disorder of attachment’ which involves repetitive and persistent preoccupation with the beloved and manifests in the pursuit of the object of attention. Meloy (1989) emphasises in these individuals the presence of a borderline personality disorder, or related personality traits, together with what he regards as an obsessional attachment to the loved one. Segal (1990) also acknowledges the presence of such states, regarding them as exaggerated reactions but appearing to confine such reactions to those who have had an actual relationship and been rejected. Though Meloy (1989) derives his concept of borderline erotomania from a coherent psychodynamic theory, the acknowledged need for postulating a new subgroup of erotomania is that DSM-III and DSM-IV specify that the central feature of erotomania is that the object of the patient’s attentions is believed to love the patient. Confined by the words of the manual, a new category must be created for those cases that simply do not fit. Meloy (1989, 1997) accepts the constraints on erotomania and postulates an additional and separate disorder. Mullen and Pathé (1994a) reject the currently accepted form of words for defining erotomania and appeal to a far longer clinical and nosological tradition which does not accept the exclusive emphasis on a morbid belief in being loved. They suggest that pathologies of love (erotomania) as well as pathological beliefs in being in love can include pathological infatuations. Pathological infatuations are characterised by: 1. An intense infatuation, without necessarily any marked accompanying conviction that the affection is currently reciprocated. 2. The object of the infatuation has either done nothing to encourage the feelings or clearly rejected any continuing interest or concern. 3. The infatuation preoccupies the patient to the exclusion of other interests, resulting in serious disruption to their lives. 4. The subject insists on the legitimacy and probable success of their quest. These elements are usually accompanied by a persistent pursuit of the object of affection with gradually escalating intrusiveness which often creates fear and distress in the object of these unwanted attentions.

Pathological infatuations can phenomenologically be considered delusions or overvalued ideas, the two forming a continuum, with overvalued ideas in turn merging into the more heartfelt beliefs of ordinary people. Occasionally pathological infatuations can be true obsessional phenomena. In normal individuals periods of intense infatuation may occur (particularly in adolescents) but they usually fade when it is clear that no favourable response is to be expected from the beloved. The teenage ‘crush’ lacks the conviction of eventual fulfilment (though fantasies of such fulfilment are common) These infatuations act as a pleasurable embellishment to a life not yet complicated by real erotic entanglements. Adolescent crushes are often social experiences in which the absorbing interest in a particular figure in the teenage culture is shared with like-minded peers and pursued through groups and clubs. This is in stark contrast to the isolating nature of pathological infatuations. Even the adolescent’s passion for some admired, though usually unavailable, figure in their immediate environment is generally shared with friends and becomes a matter for joint interest and enjoyment. Occasionally such teenage crushes do not evaporate to be replaced by actual relationships but persist into adult life. This can continue to provide a largely harmless hobby, or it may progress to an obsessive preoccupation which may culminate in stalking behaviours. One of our more curious referrals occurred when two women in their late twenties sought of their own initiative a joint assessment. They reported a shared obsessive interest in a retired schoolmaster. They had been school friends and in their early teens had confided each to the other an infatuation with one of the teachers at their school, a man who at that time would have been in his late fifties or early sixties. They had combined to gather information about this object of their nubile imaginations and by dint of enquiries, following and observing acquired an extensive dossier on him. This not untypical teenage crush did not however recede before the emergence of the real encounters and relationships of later adolescence. In part the crush continued because both these women were markedly shy and retiring and neither had their first boyfriend until into their twenties. It was also

Primary and symptomatic forms of erotomania

reinforced by becoming an important bond in their own friendship. The infatuation survived their leaving school and continued into adult life. The intensity of their shared interest in the increasingly idealised vision of this schoolmaster did not abate, though their actual and potential intrusions on his privacy became less frequent. They rationed themselves to unsigned cards at Christmas, St Valentine’s Day and his birthday, and to the occasional phone call in which they would hang up when he answered. But both of them retained an image of this man as the ideal lover, and both fantasised of one day being united with him. These were not unintelligent women, and both were aware of the yawning gulf between their imaginings and the reality of the ageing schoolmaster. They entertained no expectations that this man returned their affections, in fact they hoped he was unaware of their interest. The constructions they had made around this man operated as an ideal against which the men they encountered were measured. By that yardstick all actual and potential suitors were found wanting. In effect this prevented them accepting the opportunities for real relationships that had presented. They were aware that the persisting infatuation had become a bar to their establishing an actual relationship, and it was for this reason they came seeking help. In most erotomanics morbid infatuation coexists with a morbid conviction of being loved, but there can be states which are virtually exclusively either morbid beliefs in being loved or morbid infatuations.

Primary and symptomatic forms of erotomania The erotomanias can, as indicated by de Clérambault (1942), be broadly divided between those which emerge as a symptom complex within some underlying process, such as schizophrenia, and those which emerge as a pure or primary disorder.

Symptomatic (secondary) erotomania Erotomania is encountered most often as part of a recognisable psychiatric syndrome where it forms part

of the symptomatology of the underlying disorder. In theory any condition capable of giving rise to a delusional development can generate a pathology of passion. Further, obsessive-compulsive disorders can centre on a morbid infatuation or a compulsive pursuit of a supposed lover. The features of a symptomatic (or secondary) erotomania are: 1. The erotomania owes its genesis and evolution to an underlying mental disorder which emerges prior to or contemporaneously with the erotomanic beliefs. 2. The clinical features of the underlying disorder are present alongside the erotomanic features. 3. The erotomania usually resolves as the underlying disorder resolves. Mental health professionals are most likely to encounter pathological love as part of a wider disturbance of mental state accompanying a mental disorder such as schizophrenia. DSM-III-R listed 22 separate disorders which could have erotomanic delusions as one of their symptoms. Erotomania has been specifically described in association with schizophrenia (Hayes & O’Shea, 1985), affective disorders (Raskin & Sullivan, 1974; Rudden et al., 1990), schizoaffective disorders (Gillett et al., 1990), a range of organic psychosyndromes (Lovett Doust & Christie, 1978; Drevets & Rubin, 1987; Signer & Cummings, 1987; Gaddall, 1989) and even secondary to pharmacotherapy (Adamou & Hale, 2003). The majority of symptomatic erotomanias seen in practice arise in illnesses of a schizophrenic type. Rudden et al. (1990) reported that 12 of their 28 cases had schizophrenia, while Mullen and Pathé (1994a) reported that, of their 16 cases, seven had a primary diagnosis of schizophrenia and three of mania as part of a bipolar disorder. In the series of Menzies et al. (1995) nine out of 13 cases had a primary diagnosis of schizophrenia, and of the 11 cases described by Gillett et al. (1990) three had schizophrenia and four a bipolar illness. The symptomatic erotomanias differ from those occurring as pure or primary erotomanias not only by being accompanied by the other disturbances of mental state specific to the generating disorder but also by being more fickle in changing the object of their attentions over time and in tending to have more obviously

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carnal desires and intentions (Mullen & Pathé 1994a). In erotomanic syndromes occurring in manic states the preoccupations usually disperse when the mania settles, but with a recurrence of the disorder the pathology of love can recur, often fixing on a new object. In the schizophrenic disorders the pathology of love tends to fluctuate with the course of the illness, again with resolution during periods of relative quiescence and a return, often with a new object, during exacerbations. One of our cases with schizophrenia had pursued six different women over a period of 10 years convinced they loved him. His victims were selected from health staff and on one occasion a young woman he saw in the street. Erotomanic symptoms associated with the schizophrenias may be associated with a greater frequency of sexual attacks on the object of their attentions (Mullen & Pathé, 1994b). The risk of assaultive behaviour in general was not, however, reported by either Menzies et al. (1995) or Mullen et al. (1999) to be significantly associated with a primary diagnosis of schizophrenia. Typical examples of a symptomatic erotomania arising as part of a schizophrenic disorder are illustrated by the following two cases. CASE EXAMPLE Mr R came from a stable and caring home. He was noted from infancy to be a slower developer than his elder brother and sister, and at school he was identified as having learning difficulties. He was placed in a special school, where he progressed educationally to the point of acquiring literacy but remained an odd solitary child with no real friends. Soon after leaving school he showed the first signs of a psychotic illness. He was diagnosed as having a schizophrenic illness and had his first very brief admission. A week or so later he was arrested and subsequently convicted of setting a fire in an abandoned warehouse, for which he was imprisoned. He served his sentence in the prison psychiatric unit. On leaving prison he was, if anything, more socially awkward and withdrawn. He lapsed once more into a floridly psychotic state. An extended admission brought his illness into remission and he was placed in a community housing project. He lived quietly for seven years with little contact with anyone except his community nurse and visits from his ageing parents. A new community nurse, Mrs I, was appointed at the local mental health clinic with responsibility for encouraging greater independence and social activity among the more disabled of the clinic’s patients. At

about the same time as this female staff member began visiting Mr R, for reasons that escape easy explanation, Mr R’s antipsychotic medication was ceased. Mr R misinterpreted Mrs I’s interest and encouragement as representing a special and amorous interest in him personally. A number of months passed, during which he neither gave any indication of his feelings nor sought any response from Mrs I about what he fondly believed to be her feelings. He spent increasing time fantasising about Mrs I. He obtained a photograph from the clinic in which she appeared but this was not sufficient to satisfy his desires. He bought a camera and took photographs of Mrs I when she came to visit him at his unit. She was too surprised to object and at this stage still saw him as a disabled man who was responding to her assistance and learning to become a little more socially outgoing. The photographs became for a time the centre of Mr R’s existence. He came to believe that through the pictures a spiritual and physical contact was established between him and Mrs I. He would masturbate gazing on the photographs, and through this process he became convinced he had impregnated Mrs I. During this period the active symptoms of Mr R’s schizophrenic illness became more obvious. He was hallucinating, Mrs I’s voice being prominent among the voices. The television began referring both directly and through coded messages to Mrs I’s love for him and offering guarantees of their later happiness. At this point, during one of her regular visits, Mr R declared his love and assured Mrs I their future happiness was assured. Mrs I’s response, like that of so many professionals before her, was a polite ‘that’s very kind of you’ and a gentle explanation that they had a professional, not a personal, relationship. She concluded by assuring him that his misunderstanding, though unfortunate, could now be forgotten. It is clear from her later statements to the police that she felt at the time she had dealt successfully with ‘the embarrassment’. Some weeks passed with no further embarrassing outbursts from Mr R, and Mrs I continued to visit. Mr R’s account makes clear that he believed his overtures had been received with enthusiasm and the seal placed on their mutual love. As so often seen in these cases, Mr R’s account of what passed between them on that afternoon differs little from that of Mrs I’s; what differs is the meanings attributed to the words and actions. Mr R began to follow Mrs I, and loitered around her house and outside the clinic when she was working there. About a month after his declaration he wrote Mrs I a letter about their love, her pregnancy and that they were now married. The letter was disorganised, both in the forms of expression and in the handwriting, but its central message was clear. Mrs I discussed the letter with ‘the team’ at the mental health clinic and received appropriate support and the totally inappropriate

Primary and symptomatic forms of erotomania

advice not to worry and to work through this with Mr R. Her confronting Mr R with his inappropriate letter was understood by the increasingly psychotic Mr R as a further declaration of love. He sent further letters, enclosing soiled and much-used photos of Mrs I, and became a virtual fixture outside her home. Mrs I became increasingly frightened, as did her two children, who couldn’t understand why there was a strange man outside their house. Mrs I refused to continue seeing Mr R, and one evening she and her husband confronted him outside their house and politely but firmly told him not to trouble them further. This did not have the desired effect: Mr R’s letter writing and following intensified, and he began repeatedly approaching Mrs I and making confused and occasionally lewd suggestions. She obtained a court order to prevent him contacting her. He, as is usual in such situations, ignored the order. She and her family became increasingly distressed. She wrote a letter stating she was a married woman with no interest in him. He wrote back that she was married to him. This continued for several months. Mr R remained untreated and, following an episode at the mental health clinic when he threatened another nurse and threw a chair across the room, he was rediagnosed as personality disordered. The disturbances in his mental state intensified, and he was now almost constantly hallucinating. He cornered Mrs I in a supermarket and demanded she accompany him to his home as she was married to him and expecting his child. She in terror screamed at him to leave her alone and that she never wanted to see him again. On this occasion he understood she was rejecting him. That evening he vandalised her car and sent a threatening letter. The police were involved at this point but took no effective action. A week later he broke into her home whilst she was alone, and when she tried to run from his disorganised proclamations of love he grabbed her and held her whilst he spoke at length. His communications were largely rendered incomprehensible by his excitement and disordered language, but they centred on them being husband and wife. She persuaded him to release her and ran for help to neighbours. He was finally arrested and bailed to his parents. He accepted his parents’ instructions not to go out alone in exchange for their taking a letter each day to post to Mrs I. After a forensic assessment he was admitted for treatment.

CASE EXAMPLE Mr C came from a privileged family background. He was the youngest by nearly 10 years of three children. His early development was normal, and at primary school he was an academically able child who, if not socially outgoing, did at least have a circle of friends. At the age of 15 years he was noted to be

having more difficulties coping and rather than increasing his social activities, as is usual at that age, he was becoming more isolated and housebound. In his final year at school, despite the promise he had shown, there were indications of declining achievement. In an attempt to boost his school performance the parents engaged two tutors, one a female university student. Mr C became infatuated with the young woman tutor and begun, after just a few weeks, writing her love letters. She attempted to deal with this by polite refusal of his approaches, but when he persisted she resigned the tutoring position. He continued to write and phone, and began turning up both at her flat and at the university. His pursuit escalated, and she sought help from the police, but this was prior to the enactment of antistalking legislation and they told her there was nothing they could do. She appealed to his parents, who responded initially by confronting him. He assured them the young woman really loved him and was sending him messages of affection in ways they wouldn’t understand. The parents at this point suspected Mr C was becoming mentally disordered. They took him to their general practitioner, who was reassuring. They took him to a private psychiatrist, who said it was an adolescent crush. In the meantime Mr C had abandoned his studies and left school, and he was spending most of his waking hours either in pursuit of the young woman or thinking about her. In desperation she confronted him and forcibly expressed her anger and dislike of him. He struck out at her, knocking her to the ground. He was charged and bailed on condition he did not approach the victim. He was taken back to court on two occasions for breach of this bail condition before the magistrate finally remanded him in custody. When assessed in prison, perhaps due to the fright of sudden incarceration, he was willing to speak at length about his experiences and beliefs. He knew absolutely the young woman loved him. He was convinced his brain had been altered by some obscure process and he now had the capacity to read others’ thoughts and was progressing to a state of divine perfection. He had a variety of bizarre beliefs about bodily change. He experienced ideas of reference, believing the radio and newspapers contained hidden messages from his beloved. There were no hallucinations, and at that stage his spoken and written language was unremarkable in form. He never subsequently experienced hallucinations. Over the next three years, in which time his schizophrenic disorder was largely treatment-resistant, the delusional beliefs became both more extensive and more bizarre and his use of language became disorganised with neologisms, idiosyncratic use of phrases and a breakdown of the usual connections and organising themes which render communications easily comprehensible. He retained his conviction that he was loved by his one-time tutor

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and that their relationship would eventually be crowned by marriage. On the first two occasions he was given leave to go home from the hospital he attempted unsuccessfully to contact the young woman. A remission in his illness was finally obtained with one of the newer antipsychotics. He had a period of several months symptom-free, during which he was able to return home and even to begin preparing to resume his studies. Sadly he developed a blood disorder, a recognised complication of this particular drug, and the medication had to be ceased. Within weeks he had relapsed back into active illness. He developed an erotomanic fixation on the female registrar treating him at the time. Many of the beliefs, experiences and activities which had characterised his first erotomanic state were now repeated with the new object of affection. On this occasion his intrusiveness was more limited, as he was hospitalised, but until prevented he made ample use of letters and the phone. He succeeded in making it impossible for the young doctor to continue working in the unit. The erotomanic preoccupations were interwoven with grandiose and religious delusions, often bizarre and expressed in language-disordered speech and writing.

Primary erotomania In contrast to the symptomatic forms, the pure or primary erotomanias have the following characteristics: 1. The erotomania forms a discrete entity which initially develops unaccompanied by features of other mental disorders, such as hallucinations, passivity experiences or clear mood disorders (subsequently affective disturbances may emerge in response to the travails of unrequited love, or persecutory or jealous beliefs may come to complicate the picture). 2. The erotomania usually emerges suddenly, though often in an individual with pre-existing vulnerabilities of personality which tend to make them needy of love and affection, prone to misinterpret the words and actions of others and stubborn in asserting their own view of the world and in pursuing their own sense of entitlement. 3. The erotomanic preoccupation, once established, becomes the organising principle around which the sufferer’s life revolves, forming a chronic fixed system of beliefs, often of delusional intensity. (On topics other than those pertaining to the supposed romance the patient remains as clear-thinking, orderly and apparently rational as previously.)

4. The erotomania is fixed on a single object of affection (these are usually monogamous attachments of great fidelity). Most recent authorities confine the primary or pure erotomania to those where the central convictions are delusional (Hollender & Callahan, 1975; Lovett Doust & Christie, 1978; Seeman, 1978; Taylor et al., 1983; Ellis & Mellsop, 1985; Munro et al., 1985; Segal, 1989; Gillett et al., 1990). There is however a parallel, albeit weaker, tradition of seeing pure erotomanias not as discrete psychotic disorders separated in kind from normal experiences but as an exaggeration of the normal passion of love, which at one extreme forms a delusional disorder and at the other an intense and preoccupying infatuation which borders upon the normal. The central feature of the primary or pure pathologies of love is that they are discrete entities unaccompanied by features of other disorders. Their emergence may be understandably related to the patients’ previous personality and to their current personal and social situation. A provoking event can often plausibly be related to the onset. This precipitating event has been suggested to involve a ‘narcissistic wound’ or loss (usually of a supportive relationship) (Hollender & Callahan, 1975; Enoch & Trethowan, 1979; Evans et al., 1982). Pure pathologies of love often appear to emerge from a context of emptiness to fill a vacuum in the patient’s life. Taylor et al. (1983) noted all their cases to have led lonely and solitary existences with no sexual partners for many years prior to the emergence of the erotomanic fixation. Segal (1989) pointed to certain common themes in the lives of these patients which included socially empty lives, a lack of sexual contact and low socioeconomic status. Mullen & Pathé (1994a) noted that all their five cases of pure erotomania were, at the time the disorder emerged, facing a life which appeared to them bleak, unrewarding and bereft of intimacy. The erotomanic fixation can be postulated to provide at least a semblance of an intimate relationship and a route to the engagement of the loving and erotic affections of the patients. In his classic study of the phenomenology of love, Scheler (1954, originally published 1912) suggested that we do not love someone because they give us pleasure but we experience joy through loving. The act of love, even if unrequited, is

Primary and symptomatic forms of erotomania

itself still accompanied by a feeling of great happiness. For those whose life is empty of intimacy, the rewards of even a pathological love may be considerable. The premorbid personalities in pure cases of erotomania have variously been described as shy and awkward (Krafft-Ebing, 1904), hypersensitive and selfreferential (Kretschmer, 1918), proud and rebellious (de Clérambault, 1942), narcissistic (Enoch & Trethowan, 1979; Meloy, 1989), schizoid (Munro et al., 1985), lacking in confidence, suspicious and socially avoidant (Retterstøl & Opjordsmoen, 1991) and finally timid and withdrawn (Seeman, 1978). The feature common to these various formulations is of a socially inept individual isolated from others, be it by sensitivity, suspiciousness or assumed superiority (Mullen & Pathé, 1994a). These patients tend to be described as living socially empty lives, often working in menial occupations and being, or feeling themselves to be, unattractive (de Clérambault, 1942; Hollender & Callahan, 1975; Enoch & Trethowan, 1979; Segal, 1989). The desire for a relationship in many cases is balanced by a fear of rejection or a fear of the realities of intimacy, both sexual and emotional. The following two case histories (from Mullen & Pathé, 1994a) illustrate a pure or primary pathology of love. CASE EXAMPLE Ms Y was the only child of elderly and unsupportive parents. As a child she described herself as intensely self-conscious and easily frightened, with no close friends. Though able academically, she did not enter university, opting instead for a commercial course and a position as a typist. Her husband was her first and only boyfriend. The marriage went badly from the outset and there were considerable sexual difficulties. They had few shared interests and there was little intimacy. Her work provided the only arena of social interaction. A few months prior to the onset of symptoms she lost her job due to the firm’s closure. She had poor self-esteem and acknowledged that she had always been somewhat suspicious of others and tended, when in public places, to feel that people looked at her, laughed at her behind her back and made derogatory remarks. She was very concerned with order and cleanliness and had a number of cleaning and checking rituals. She was referred from the courts following a breach of a restraining order and charges arising out of telephone calls to a local clergyman. Ms Y explained that she had been the object

of the romantic intentions of this particular clergyman for several years. Following her first meeting with him she noted he regularly drove past her house and waved to her. She suspected that at night he would clamber up trees behind the house to watch her as she undressed. She never actually saw him, but claimed that she knew he was there. She also reported that he began to communicate with her by barely audible blips which could be heard from the telephone, both when the receiver was in place and when she lifted the receiver. She was initially discomforted by his attentions, but gradually began to realise that they were the manifestations of a shy man in love with her. She began to return his telephone calls. She said that he always denied having made a call and she realised that this was a ‘friendly game’ which was meant to entice her into an increasingly profound relationship. She began to telephone more frequently, and finally declared her love. His apparent surprise and disavowal she recognised was because he was still married and would have to disentangle himself from his present encumbrances before they could be united. The clergyman became increasingly distressed, and after the failure of mediators to dissuade her from further contact he obtained a restraining order. She noted, however, that at the same time he increased his covert communications via the blips and squeaks emanating from the telephone. She kept a meticulous record of these supposed communications, which occurred anything up to 150 times a day. He obtained an unlisted number, but she soon discovered the new number. The clergyman claimed that his life was now totally disrupted by her calls and her other communications. This lady was absolutely convinced that the clergyman loved her and intended to marry her. She said that he initiated the contact and that he still remained the one more intensely in love. She had no difficulty in explaining all his words and actions, even that of taking her to court, as covert expressions of undying devotion. There were no hallucinatory phenomena, the noises from the telephone most probably being illusions. There were no other abnormalities in her mental state. This lady responded remarkably well on a dose of 4 mg of pimozide a day. The absorption with the supposed lover rapidly decreased from a virtually total domination of her waking thoughts to an occasional consideration of the matter. She continued to assert that this man had approached her, but increasingly she would both disavow any interest in him and accept that he no longer retained any interest in her. Interestingly, the relationship with her husband improved for the first time and they began to communicate and enjoy something approaching a marital relationship. Six months after commencing treatment this lady, on her own initiative, stopped the pimozide. There was a rapid return of symptoms and within

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a matter of weeks she was again plaguing the clergyman with letters and telephone calls. The reintroduction of the pimozide produced another gratifying resolution in her symptomatology. She remains on regular medication.

CASE EXAMPLE Ms L, a female aged 47, was the youngest of four children. Ms L’s father was disabled as a result of a work injury and her mother was the dominant figure. Ms L was described as shy and isolated both at school and as a teenager. On leaving school she obtained a job as an accounts clerk, which she had retained until a year previously. Her husband was her first and only boyfriend. They married when she was 22 and he was 30 years of age. He was always the dominant figure in the relationship, making all of the decisions and controlling the money. His views always prevailed, giving her no opportunity to even ventilate her own opinion or feelings. Ms L was always painfully shy and self-conscious. She reported frequently feeling that people looked at her and laughed at her behind her back. At work she was occasionally overwhelmed by suspicions that others were ganging up on her and talking about her. She said she always put these fears back in control by using logic, because ‘I know it’s not real’. She avoided social contacts outside of the family. She was a well-organised individual but had no obsessional or phobic symptoms. Four years previously she had come to ‘realise’ that a senior partner in the firm for which she worked entertained romantic feelings about her. She had always admired him, and considered him a gentle and concerned individual. Her preoccupations with this man increased markedly after the sudden death of a younger brother, who had been the person with whom she had had the closest relationship. The love crystallised following an incident when the object of her affections spoke to her one morning about the weather and the prospects for the upcoming ski season. It was this she claimed made her realise he reciprocated her affection. She said, ‘I knew this meant he had strong feelings for me, because usually I am completely ignored. No one chats to me. They think I’m not intelligent enough.’ Over the next few months she felt that he expressed his love in a variety of round-about ways; clothes that he wore, the way he nodded a greeting, and the occasional exchanged good morning. It was not, she said, so much what he said but the tone of voice and the way he said it. She became interested in her appearance for the first time in many years, took up aerobics, lost 10 kg and began colouring her hair. The object of her attentions, in a victim impact statement, said he’d been aware for some years that she was infatuated with him, but this was entirely one-sided and had never been

encouraged. He tried to ignore it but it became, in the last three years, increasingly intrusive. She would follow him, turn up unexpectedly, stand next to his car after work awaiting his departure, write notes to him and phone him both at work and at home. He arranged for her to be made redundant to prevent continuing harassment at work. Eight months prior to the admission, Ms L, whilst trailing the object of her affections, observed him to meet and have a drink with a senior secretary from the firm’s office. Over the next week she tailed both this lady and the object of her affections. She became convinced that he was having an affair with this woman. She found herself troubled by intrusive images of her would-be lover in the arms of this other woman. She became increasingly distressed and angry. She made a number of accusatory phone calls to the object of her affections, to his wife and to the secretary she supposed to have stolen his affections from her. At one point she attempted to throw herself in front of his car. She caused a major incident at his place of work by accusing him in front of a number of colleagues of having an affair and having deserted her. At this time she began to develop signs of depression with sleep disturbance, loss of appetite, self-denigratory ruminations and suicidal thoughts. Immediately prior to her admission she confronted the object of her affections with a rifle she had taken from her husband’s gun cupboard. He claims she pointed it at him and threatened him, although she denies actually directing the gun at him. The gun was discharged but the circumstances are in dispute. She left to return home, where she attempted to stab herself through the heart and in fact succeeded in inflicting a serious chest wound. On admission she acknowledged she was still preoccupied by thoughts of her supposed lover. She believed that there would still be a reconciliation between them because he remained in love with her and she returned his affection. She acknowledged that she was still plagued by jealousy, and that vivid images would intrude into her consciousness of him having intercourse with her supposed rival. She claimed no longer to be actively suicidal because she recognised that eventually this hiccup in their relationship would be sorted out and they would have a future together. This lady was commenced on both antidepressants and 6 mg of pimozide, and over the subsequent four weeks the intensity of her preoccupations with this supposed beloved gradually decreased. She came to recognise that the relationship was now over and there was no future given what had occurred. She still retained the belief that he had returned her affections, though she would accept that she may have been over-hopeful in her expectations for the relationship. She remains on medication.

The object of affection

Mullen and Pathé (1994a) noted that, in all the pure syndromes in their series, the premorbid personality was marked by exquisite self-consciousness with a tendency to refer the actions and utterances of others to themselves, usually endowing them with a denigratory or malevolent colouring. It is not difficult to extrapolate from such a tendency to the development of a pathology of love, given that all that may be required to set such a development in motion is seeing the actions and utterances of one particular person not as malevolent but as loving. These character traits may also provide some rationale for why apparently intelligent and not unattractive people are so handicapped in social and erotic relationships that they are driven into fantasy and delusion to satisfy their needs for intimacy. The view advanced here of the pure forms of pathologies of passion being an extension of normal emotional reactions leaves problems regarding the boundary between the pathological and the morbid. The boundary issues are particularly acute in instances where there has been some form of real relationship, however fleeting, between the individual and the object of their affections. That the feelings were reciprocal at some stage makes it difficult to subsequently designate the love pathological. The other area of potential confusion is where unrequited love is pursued with such misplaced enthusiasm that it gives the mistaken impression of pathology. The following case exemplifies this latter quandary.

followed him to his golf club. She understood he was trying to put her off but could not accept that he had no feelings for her. Following one particularly direct and abusive rejection she became angry and vandalised his car. She still kept pestering him, hoping to reawaken his interest. He took out a restraining order. She was enraged and went to his house and in front of his wife and children accused him of destroying her life. She refused to leave. The police were called and she was committed to hospital.

CASE EXAMPLE

De Clérambault (1942), following Kraepelin (1921), considered that the erotomanic fixed their attentions on individuals of higher social status. This was given even greater emphasis by Segal (1989), who contrasted the physically unattractive erotomanic employed in some menial occupation with the attractive, high-status, intelligent (!) object of their affections. The popular attention given to the erotomanic followers of the rich and famous has reinforced this stereotype. Part of normal love is endowing the beloved with attractive attributes, and it would be a poor suitor who could divine no claim to excellence in the object of their affections. The love of the erotomanic, being little constrained by practicalities or even plausibility, is free to fix on almost anyone, so their desire for excellence need

Ms J was a 27-year-old of borderline intelligence from a stable middle-class background. She had worked as an office cleaner. She was shy and self-conscious, having little social life. Following a Christmas party she had intercourse with an office worker in his thirties who was married with children. They were both intoxicated at the time. This was her first sexual experience. She approached him subsequently but he, apparently embarrassed by the connection, rejected her with increasingly brutal directness. Ms J believed that the man must care for her and that his actions indicated that he loved her. She was distressed and confused by his subsequent behaviour and, having no basis for comparison, decided he could not mean what he said. Over the next four months she approached him repeatedly, she telephoned him frequently, she turned up at his home and

The behaviour of this young woman resembles that of someone with erotomania. All her hopes and fantasies about the future became dependent on the supposed love. She was totally preoccupied with this man to the extent of neglecting her work and herself. She certainly made repeated and sustained attempts to approach the supposed lover despite increasingly insistent rejections. She did not, however, reinterpret the man’s words and actions to maintain the belief in his love, but simply found herself incapable of crediting his change of heart. When she finally accepted that the relationship was over she moved to anger and distress. Her behaviour was based on a misinterpretation, fostered by naivety and sustained by a desperate hope, and though she behaved like someone with a pathological infatuation, she did not think like such an individual.

The object of affection

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not be mitigated by pragmatic considerations about likely success. In our experience, however, the objects of pathological love are almost as variable in their personal and professional attributes as are the objects of normal love. The erotomanic fixes his or her attentions on those they find attractive and with whom they have a real, or supposed, contact. The famous who intrude themselves, via television, into our homes, often creating a pseudo-intimacy, clearly become targets more frequently than most. Objects of attention are often chosen from among individuals encountered in the work environment, either through employment relationships or by being a customer or client of the service offered by the future victim (Harmon et al., 1995). At high risk are professionals, particularly health professionals, whose work not only brings them in contact with vulnerable people but often does so in a context of being helpful and concerned. In our experience, male erotomanics, like their non-disordered brothers, most often bestow their affections largely by virtue of the perceived physical attractiveness of the object of affection. Anyone can become the object of the disordered affections of the erotomanic, and though the high-risk groups do have high status they do not account for all victims. Similarly, though erotomanics are drawn from the lonely, socially incompetent and disordered, they are in our experience far from universally physically unattractive, and some have attained high social status (there being a medical practitioner, an academic and a lawyer among the erotomanic stalkers known to our clinic).

Prevalence The prevalence of erotomanic syndromes, both pure and clearly symptomatic, is unknown. Attempts to estimate how frequently these conditions are found in patient populations have been made using retrospective case-note surveys (Rudden et al., 1983; Retterstøl & Opjordsmoen, 1991; Menzies et al., 1995). Retterstøl and Opjordsmoen (1991) reported an incidence of 0.3% in an inpatient population, and there are estimates that between 3% and 10% of delusional disorders centre on erotomanic beliefs (Rudden et al., 1983; Menzies et al.

1995). As the profile of delusional disorders rises, erotomania is likely to be recognised and noted with increasing frequency. Traditionally erotomania was considered predominantly, if not exclusively, a female complaint, but recent studies indicate it is found in men and women in roughly equal numbers, in the gay and the straight and in individuals from a range of cultural and social backgrounds (Lovett Doust & Christie, 1978; Taylor et al., 1983; Dunlop, 1988; Eminson et al., 1988).

Management and prognosis In the symptomatic erotomanic syndromes the treatment relevant to the generating disorder is provided, augmented where appropriate with antipsychotic agents and psychotherapeutic interventions directed at the pathology of love. In the reactive (pure) syndromes the mainstay of management is antipsychotics in low to moderate dosage (e.g. pimozide 2–6 mg per day) combined with counselling and support which both confronts the cognitive distortions sustaining the erotomanic fixation and hopes to move the patient to a more effective engagement with other people. This is often a protracted and frustrating process, with slow progress and frequent reverses, but nevertheless real therapeutic gains are usually possible if the patient remains engaged in treatment. The literature in general does not indicate a good response to treatment even in the symptomatic conditions. Gillett et al. (1990) suggest a poor response in their four cases with a primary diagnoses of schizophrenia, and even more surprisingly a refractory erotomania in a case of mania which persisted despite effective treatment of the mood disorder. Segal (1989), on the basis of a literature review and his own experience, noted the extreme persistence of the erotic delusions with at best some remnant of the delusion remaining in all except the rare case. These gloomy prognostications are reiterated by Leong (1994), who goes so far as to suggest courts and social policy makers ‘should not place much emphasis on psychiatry and other mental health disciplines in diminishing the erotomanic delusion’ (p. 384) and seems to imply that

Management and prognosis

criminal and civil sanctions may be more appropriate. One of the few long-term follow-up studies suggests a somewhat less grim outlook, with favourable outcomes in two cases, relatively favourable in one and poor or uncertain in three (Retterstøl & Opjordsmoen, 1991). Claims for the efficacy of pimozide or other antipsychotics in the pure (reactive) syndromes have been made (Munro et al., 1985; Stein, 1986). An abiding problem with managing these cases is the almost total lack of motivation for treatment. Those caught up in pathological love do not see themselves as ill but blessed with a romance whose only blemish is the tardiness of response in the beloved or the interference of third parties (often including the would-be therapist). The benefits of these disorders for the patient should not be forgotten, for they provide some solace for their loneliness, some support for their damaged self-esteem and some purpose to their otherwise empty existences. As Segal (1989) pointed out, ‘erotomania, if kept under control, is not an altogether negative phenomenon, since it may provide solace for a few lonely souls, who might otherwise spend their lives in unrelieved isolation and solitude’ (p. 1265), though one might question whether unrequited love that is ‘kept under control’ does indeed qualify as an erotomania. A somewhat more optimistic picture was painted by Mullen & Pathé (1994a), who considered the general therapeutic pessimism about erotomanic syndromes to be misplaced. Their experience was that the response to treatment in the symptomatic disorders reflected the nature and severity of the underlying disorder, with their three cases secondary to manic illnesses making a complete recovery, while those with intractable

schizophrenic disorders often continued to harbour erotomanic delusions, though usually in a less florid and preoccupying form. The pure or reactive pathologies of love had a variable outcome, though four out of five either made a full recovery or showed marked amelioration of symptoms with low doses of antipsychotics and supportive psychotherapy. They emphasised the need to persist with treatment in the pure syndromes over many months before improvement can be expected. An element worthy of emphasis in their management is improving the social supports and networks of patients with pathologies of love. Though in our experience it is rarely possible to assist these patients to find and maintain intimate relationships, it has in some been possible to engage them in social activities and contacts which provide considerable support. If their lives remain bereft of human contact let alone intimacy it will be difficult to induce them to abandon the only semblance of a relationship they possess. The widely held pessimism about the effective management of erotomanic syndromes is a self-fulfilling prophecy made prior to any substantial trials of treatment. It is particularly unfortunate at a moment when mental health professionals are likely to be increasingly asked for opinions by the courts about the appropriate disposal of stalkers driven by erotomanic preoccupations. It is probable that only effective treatment is capable of freeing the victim from pursuit and the patient from an all-encompassing preoccupation. By not using the management approaches already available, and by not working on developing more effective therapeutic interventions, we fail both our patients and their victims.

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9 The predatory stalker

Introduction Norman discovered the film maker’s address by buying a tourist map of stars’ homes. He spent a month watching the mansion … He went to the gates at least four times and was finally arrested as he tried to run from private security guards … Norman boasted to police that he wanted to rape Spielberg while the director’s wife … watched … [He] kept diaries about Spielberg’s films and family, stockpiled sex toys and made repeated attempts to break into the director’s sprawling estate … [When Norman was arrested] he was carrying a ‘rape kit’ containing a knife blade, razor blades, tape and handcuffs … Police also discovered a book with a shopping list of tools they say Norman planned to use on Spielberg, including three eye masks, three sets of handcuffs, four pairs of nipple clips and three dog collars. (Australian newspaper reports from the June 1998 trial of Jonathan Norman, who stalked film director Steven Spielberg. He is now serving a 25-year sentence.)

The predatory stalker’s behaviours are a means to an end, and that end is an attack on the victim which is usually, but not always, sexual. The predatory stalker prepares for and anticipates the attack in the process of following and observing the victim. The behaviour of the predatory stalker is, however, seldom entirely instrumental. This group is selected in part from the ranks of those who delight in the sense of control and power which accrues from watching and planning an assault on the target. In contrast to the resentful stalker, for whom harassment is designed to inflict fear and distress, predatory stalkers seem to derive excitement from the surreptitious observation of their victim. Often there is no manifest intent to disturb or even alert

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the victim to his or her emerging fate. The victims of the predatory stalker may even live in ignorance of the destiny their stalker is preparing for them. Predatory stalkers constitute a small but salient subset of stalkers, who have been disproportionately represented, in their most dramatic forms, in fictional portrayals of stalking. For predators such as Jonathan Norman, the stalking activities are the prelude to sexual attack, but in addition these behaviours may in themselves be sexually arousing, providing erotic gratification from the sense of power over the victim and, in some instances, their capacity to humiliate them by unwanted intrusions and the arousal of fear.

Studies of predatory stalkers In a clinical study of 145 stalkers (Mullen et al., 1999) the predatory type predominantly comprised paraphilias. Only one had a history of substance abuse. All were men, with a mean age of 32 years. Half were currently employed and two had adult partners, though the quality of these relationships was dubious. The duration of stalking by predators was significantly shorter than that of most other stalkers, and they had the narrowest range of harassment methods. Predatory stalkers favoured following and surveillance of their victims, phone contact being confined to those subjects with scatologic pathology who derived sexual gratification from making anonymous obscene calls. The predatory group was more likely to have prior criminal convictions, with an official record of offences, most often sexual, in the majority of cases. The incidence of threats made

Studies of predatory stalkers

by the sexually motivated stalker was relatively low. However, half the predatory sample assaulted their victim. Indeed, in this study, these stalkers were more likely to assault their victims than all other categories of stalker except the rejected. The authors also noted that, in contrast to other groups, there is a troubling lack of warning of the danger, as these are the least intrusive stalkers, often only glimpsed by their victims, who may report fearing, but not being certain, that they are followed. More recently, MacKenzie (2006) conducted a clinically based systematic investigation of the psychological and demographic profiles of all referrals for stalking behaviours to our forensic mental health service over a two-year period. All predatory stalkers were found to have a DSM-IV-TR Axis I disorder (paraphilia in 37.5%, bipolar disorder in 12.5%, substance abuse/dependence in 75%), and their substance abuse patterns were more likely than those of other groups to involve illicit drugs only. In 62.5% of the predatory sample there was an Axis II diagnosis (antisocial personality disorder (PD) or traits in 12.5%, narcissistic PD or traits in 12.5%, mixed/unspecified PD in 37.5%). Adjusting for educational level, the predatory group had significantly higher VIQ and full IQ scores than the incompetent suitors, the rejected and the resentful stalkers. When examining childhood attachment, the predatory group scored significantly lower on the Paternal Care Scale of the Parental Bonding Instrument (Parker et al., 1979). These men generally remembered their fathers as being less affectionate and nurturing and more emotionally neglectful than did the other groups, who scored in the average range on this scale. Similar deficiencies in paternal relationships were reported by stranger rapists in a study of male sex offenders (Smallbone & Dadds, 1998). When MacKenzie (2006) explored attachment style from both childhood and adult perspectives she found general support for earlier theories identifying insecure attachment as an antecedent to stalking (Langhinrichsen-Rohling & Rohling, 2000; Davis et al., 2002; Tonin, 2004). The majority of the predatory group in this study (along with their rejected, incompetent-suitor and resentful counterparts) selected responses indicative of negative selfdescriptors and negative impressions of others. In contrast to the intimacy seekers, who typically revealed

a secure attachment style, none of the predatory sample regarded themselves as secure, most selecting the statement that was indicative of dismissal of intimacy (Bartholomew & Horowitz, 1991). MacKenzie (2006) summarised the key findings from her clinical studies in the following description of the predatory stalker: The archetypal Predatory stalker is a single male in his earlier thirties who targets multiple female victims to whom he is a stranger. The duration of stalking is usually brief, rarely persisting beyond 3 months. The majority of this group are in some form of employment, most with full-time jobs. Although half have no history of psychiatric illness, assessment invariably reveals Axis I disorders, with paraphilias and substance abuse the most common diagnoses. Even when substance abuse is not the primary diagnosis, the majority do use illicit drugs, either alone or in conjunction with alcohol. Most Predatory stalkers receive an Axis II diagnosis, or exhibit disordered personality traits, typically of a Cluster B type. Despite being intellectually capable with verbal and nonverbal IQs in the average range, Predatory stalkers tend to have histories of academic underachievement. Most fail to complete high school and, for the few that do commence university degrees, it is unlikely that they will complete the course. Though none of the Predatory stalkers in this sample committed violence in the offence that resulted in their assessment, half had a criminal history involving usually violent and/or sexual offences. Although threats are relatively uncommon in this group, threats when made are usually done so anonymously and are of a sexually graphic nature. Predatory stalkers tend to be emotionally distant, have poor empathy and harbour deep feelings of insecurity. An absence of close relationships and problems with their family of origin, particularly their fathers, are common. Although they have an exaggerated need for attention and affection, they repeatedly set themselves up for rejection and failure as a result of their behaviour. They are suspicious of others’ motives and generally feel misunderstood and alienated. Their behaviour is often impulsive and unpredictable, and they frequently fail to learn from their mistakes. Anger is often a problem for this group. They frequently suppress the emotion and fail to exert control when the feeling becomes too intense. Sexual deviation is regularly present, and they may be obsessed with sexual thoughts. Although Predatory stalkers generally do have insight into the fact that they have problems, they are either unwilling to change or do not know how to go about it. (pp. 195–6).

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The characteristics of the predatory stalker are: 1. Male gender. 2. Multiple victims, usually female. 3. Stalks for relatively brief periods. 4. Stalking behaviours are intended as preparatory to assault, usually sexual, upon the victim. 5. The stalking is a combination of information gathering, rehearsal, intrusion through surreptitious observation and the exercise of power. 6. In most cases the stalker’s intent is not to disturb or alert the victim prior to the fantasised or planned attack. Associated features may include: 1. The stalker often demonstrates deficiencies in selfefficacy, empathy and the capacity for close relationships. 2. Stalking behaviours do not always betray their sexual origins.

The predatory stalker Context

Deviant sexual desires and unusual practices.

Victim

Usually a female or child who has attracted their lust, just occasionally a public figure or contact who has attracted their murderous rage.

Initial motivation To gain information and prepare for an attack, usually sexual. Sustaining motivation

The pleasures obtained from the voyeurism, the rehearsing in fantasy of the coming attack whilst watching the victim, the sense of power derived from knowing their fate and being the agent of that fate while the victim remains blissfully ignorant and helpless to prevent the oncoming disaster. In short, the satisfactions of sadism.

Stalkers and sex offenders As most predatory stalking is sexually motivated, it is not surprising that similarities have emerged between the characteristics of these stalkers and sex-offender populations. In the sexually perverse, poor self-esteem

and low self-efficacy in social relationships are commonly encountered, often accompanied by deficits in sexual knowledge, intimacy and courting skills (Finkelhor, 1984; Hall, 1989). Panton (1978) observed that ‘child molesters tended to be anxious, inadequate individuals who felt insecure in their associations with others and who expected rejection and failure in adult heterosexual advances.’ Wilson and Cox (1983) concur, noting that paedophiles in their study were ‘more likely to be shy, sensitive, lonely, depressed, and humourless’. Hall (1989) notes that ‘paedophiles often report that they feel inadequate in adult situations. They fear rejection from adults and avoid situations in which the rejection might be forthcoming … By avoiding adult situations, they miss the opportunity to gain experiences in interpreting the non-verbal and other social cues needed to form and maintain successful adult relationships’ (p. 141). Indeed, McConaghy (1993) believes that for sex offenders in general it is these difficulties in interpreting the social cues, rather than a lack of social skills per se, that predispose them to seek inappropriate and non-threatening sexual objects. MacCulloch et al. (1983) found similar deficiencies in their cohort of sexual sadists, all of whom experienced general difficulties in social relationships from an early age: ‘These developed after puberty into a problem of relating sexually to their preferred sex, commonly epitomised by an inability to make any sort of appropriate approach.’ Many stalkers share similar deficits, which in these individuals appear to play a pivotal role in the evolution of stalking. Lindsay and colleagues (1998) reported two cases of intellectually disabled sex offenders who stalked. One made frequent direct approaches to his female victim at her home over a six-month period, requesting she have sex with him and exposing his genitals to her. The other became enamoured of a female supervisor at his sheltered work placement, following her and becoming more persistent and abusive in response to her continued rejection of him. In this case the stalking, which included vandalising the victim’s car and that of her long-standing partner, travelling some distance to watch the victim’s basketball team play, and verbal abuse, persisted for four years before the perpetrator was convicted of sexual harassment and vandalism.

Stalkers and sex offenders

Both these men were in their mid twenties, and their intellectual functioning was in the mildly retarded range. The first case, considered by the authors to be typical of their ‘nuisance’ category, received a two-year probation order with a requirement for treatment, while the second, categorised as ‘delusional’, received three years’ probation with similar conditions. Given the lower incidence of stable relationships and social competence in intellectually disabled populations, and reports that up to 50% of intellectually disabled offenders have sexual convictions (Cockram et al., 1992), one might reasonably anticipate higher rates of intellectual disability among predatory stalkers relative to other stalker types. However, the only study to formally assess stalker intelligence (MacKenzie, 2006) did not support this. Increasingly, since the introduction of anti-stalking legislation, sex offenders are attracting charges of stalking, with or without more specific sexual charges. We are also seeing the increasing misuse of stalking charges in sex crimes particularly, to ‘load’ less serious, non-contact sexual offences (see Chapter 23). The case of the ‘upskirter’ described later is an example of the misapplication of our anti-stalking laws to sex offenders who are not stalkers by accepted clinical or legal definitions. The offence of stalking can occasionally disguise that which is primarily sexual deviance. It has long been recognised that sexually illicit acts may be concealed by crimes which are overtly non-sexual, such as the would-be rapist convicted of breaking and entering (in search of a victim), the fetishist of theft (of undergarments from clotheslines) or the voyeur convicted of trespass. Hence, in a man charged with stalking a woman who is a stranger, the possibility of some wider sexual psychopathology must be considered. MacCulloch and co-workers (1983) have noted, in relation to a cohort of sexual sadists, that aggressive and sadistic fantasies may progress to ‘behavioral try-outs’, or enacting the fantasies in vivo: ‘At varying stages of these behavioral try-outs criminal offences were committed. In this context some offences which are not overtly sadistic are as significant as overtly sadistic sexual offences because they are part of an escalating sequence of sadistic behavior which, if unchecked, can ultimately lead to loss of life.’ They considered

it ‘extremely rare for any connection to be made between early non-sadistic offences, later sadistic offences and sexual fantasies’. There are serious risks in failing to recognise connections between stalking and sex crimes.

Stalking in paraphilias Paraphilias are characterised by ‘arousal in response to sexual objects and situations that are not part of normative arousal-activity patterns’ (McConaghy, 1993). The DSM-IV requires, as a minimum: A. Over a period of at least 6 months, recurrent, intense sexually arousing fantasies, sexual urges, or behaviours involving … [sexual object/situation]. B. The fantasies, sexual urges, or behaviours cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. Arousal to the objects that excite paraphiliacs can be part of normative patterns, some authorities contending that fantasies of involvement in certain ‘deviant’ sexual activities may be a common experience in the normal population. Not all paraphilias are proscribed legally, and as such do not constitute arrestable sex offences. Likewise, sex offences, including many sexual assaults, may occur in the absence of DSM-IV-defined paraphilias. Paraphilias and non-paraphilic sexual offences may potentially manifest stalking behaviours, though it is less likely, relative to other categories of stalker, that the predator’s attentions will be as enduring or exclusively focused on a single victim. The following case vignettes are illustrative of paraphilias associated with stalking. Some of these exhibited multiple paraphilias, a finding familiar to researchers and clinicians in this area (Abel et al., 1988). The cases are drawn from those attending our forensic mental health clinic, which provides an outpatient treatment programme for sex offenders in addition to being a referral centre for stalkers. The vast majority of these referrals are made by the courts, adult parole board and correctional services. Those treated at the clinic tend to represent the more complex and recalcitrant end of the sexually offensive spectrum, with few enjoying stable employment or satisfactory adult relationships.

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Telephone scatologia In scatologia, also known as telephonicophilia (Money, 1988), the arousing fantasies and sexual urges or behaviours relate to lewd phone calls. Freund (1990) regarded scatologia as an auditory analogue of voyeurism. The following case is an example of the progression from commercial telephone sex to illegal obscene calls targeting female victims, then to what amounted to stalking a specific victim by phone. CASE EXAMPLE Dennis was a 34-year-old single male convicted of stalking a female TV host. Over a three-month period Dennis made repeated obscene calls to the woman, with whom he was besotted since he first saw her on TV 12 months previously. In addition, he sent several anonymous cards to the TV studios where the woman worked, all containing sexually explicit messages relating to his sexual fantasies about her. The woman sought police advice and, contrary to all that is known about stalking, to say nothing of common sense, she was persuaded to arrange a meeting with her stalker in a public place so that the police could apprehend him. Dennis was startled by his victim’s proposition, nervously agreeing to the face-to-face encounter. The TV host had no difficulty discerning which of the men at their rendezvous was her stalker: Dennis sat alone, staring self-consciously at his hands, visibly sweating and trembling. She approached him – herself weak with anxiety – and as soon as he had confirmed her suspicions the police swooped. Dennis at no stage denied his criminal actions. He was ultimately sentenced to a community-based correctional order with mandated psychiatric treatment. He was a cooperative individual who expressed considerable remorse for his actions and concern for the trauma that he had inflicted on his victim. He denied any intention to make further contact, claiming he felt physically ill whenever he allowed himself to think about his actions. Initially at a loss to explain his behaviour, Dennis demonstrated sufficient insight to appreciate the role that lifelong interpersonal difficulties may have played. He had always been a rather insecure, unassertive person with few friends. He had been close to his mother, who had died from lung cancer two years previously. In contrast, his father was an intolerant and punitive man who criticised Dennis for his reluctance to play contact sports or to bring home a girl, sure signs that his son was a ‘poofter’. Dennis was an average scholar who completed high school and proceeded to study arts at university. He abandoned this

after his first semester because he found university life and study too stressful. He struggled to find work, having to rely upon social security payments. He rented a cramped onebedroom flat, spending increasing periods alone, his outings dwindling along with his finances and self-esteem. Although he had two male friends from school days they drifted apart, and contact with his parents was limited by geographical distance and his mother’s ill health. His only sibling – an extroverted younger sister to whom he had never felt close – had since married and moved to another state. Dennis had always yearned for a relationship with a woman. Despite his father’s accusations he regarded himself as heterosexual but felt shy and awkward in the presence of women. He acknowledged regular masturbatory fantasies involving consensual sexual acts with adult women, as well as fantasies of idealised, romantic love. Then one day he stumbled upon the telephone sex lines, finding their explicit content intensely sexually arousing. He dialled these frequently for about three weeks, until he received his quarterly phone bill, which was astronomical. Further in debt, he vowed to forgo this pastime, but it created a considerable void in his life that could not be filled by the occasional purchase of ‘soft’ pornographic magazines. He was unable to afford other visual erotica such as videos, strip shows or pornographic websites on the internet. Dennis admitted then proceeding to make random phone calls and ‘talking dirty’ if a female voice answered (but hanging up if the recipient was a male). He gave little thought to his detection, sometimes redialling the same household if the response was suitably gratifying. While he had fantasised about conventional sex and romance with the TV host virtually from the first time he watched her show, he didn’t have her number and had no real plans to pursue her. However, one day the woman was featured in the ‘celebrity homes’ section of the newspaper, in which her street and suburb were revealed. Curious, he drove along the street, identifying the actual house from the picture in the news article. He then ascertained her (unlisted) home phone number by reading it off a phone bill in her mailbox. The inevitable publicity surrounding the victim’s ordeal had a profoundly aversive effect on this man’s scatologic activities. It was nevertheless important to address Dennis’s social ineptitude in a bid to diminish his personal suffering and minimise his need for deviant outlets in the future. Self-esteem enhancing exercises and assertiveness training proved beneficial, as was his inclusion in a basic social skills group specifically for sex offenders. In addition, grief counselling was undertaken to assist him to deal with issues surrounding the loss of his mother. He resumed his studies and joined a university volleyball group, befriending one of the women on his team. He

Stalkers and sex offenders

also plays tennis on a regular basis with his father, who was shocked by his offences but now admits his respect for his son’s courageous efforts to deal with his problem.

Depending on the nature of their deviancy, predators may share the goals of other stalkers (to possess the object of attention), but attaining an intimate relationship is frequently not the desired end point. Dennis demonstrated this somewhat paradoxical response to his victim when she ostensibly submitted to his advances. With abject insight into his physical, emotional and social shortcomings, the prospect of shedding his anonymity for face-to-face contact with his beautiful and accomplished victim proved terrifying rather than sexually arousing.

Exhibitionism In exhibitionism, the fantasies, sexual urges or behaviours pertain to exposure of one’s genitals to an unsuspecting stranger. Of the sexual deviations, exhibitionism is one of the most common, and it can occur in conjunction with other paraphilias such as voyeurism (Freund & Blanchard, 1986). CASE EXAMPLE Bruce was a 54-year-old clerk with a 30-year history of exhibitionism, for which he had served two previous terms of imprisonment. His most recent offence attracted a charge of stalking in addition to wilful and obscene exposure. Bruce, a homosexual, became attracted to a new co-worker, a 27-yearold man. He began to fantasise about exhibiting his genitals to the man and eliciting the desired response of an invitation to mutual masturbation and fellatio. Over the ensuing six weeks Bruce, who worked on a different floor to this man, made repeated visits to the man’s workstation under the guise of running errands for his boss. He also anonymously posted advertisements for gay social events and venues on the office walls, leaving some flyers on the man’s desk. One day, Bruce overheard that his co-worker’s motor vehicle was unserviceable and he promptly seized the opportunity to offer him a ride home, which the man unwittingly accepted. The next day Bruce posted some gay male pornographic material to that address. He followed this up with a phone call during which he admitted his feelings for the man, the object of his attention promptly terminating the call. Angry and humiliated, Bruce phoned back and threatened to ‘out’ the man to his family and employer if

he continued to reject him, unswayed by the man’s insistence that he had a girlfriend and wasn’t gay. Shortly thereafter, Bruce followed his co-worker to some little-used toilets at the back of their office block and exposed his genitals as the man tried to leave. The victim fled, fearing he would be assaulted, and reported Bruce to his employer and the police. Bruce was not imprisoned on this occasion, agreeing to participate in a community sex-offender programme, his first experience of treatment. He was dismissed from his job and had virtually no remaining supports: his parents and only sibling were deceased and his friends were limited to a few exprisoners. His contacts from his regular forays to gay saunas were generally fleeting, although four years earlier he had sustained a five-month relationship with a 30-year-old man. He presented as a rather introverted individual with a depressed mood accompanied by low energy, poor appetite, weight loss, impaired sleep and suicidal ideation. He expressed contrition for his actions and was very pessimistic about his treatment prospects. Bruce was commenced on the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) antidepressant fluoxetine. His depression resolved over the ensuing months. It was likely also that the antidepressant’s serotonergic action contributed to a reported diminution of sexual drive and improved control over his exhibitionistic urges. Cognitive behavioural techniques were introduced to promote internal controls. Seven months later he formed an intimate relationship with a 42-year-old man who has been apprised of Bruce’s offending history.

Fetishism and voyeurism In fetishism, the fantasies, urges or behaviour pertain to the use of non-living objects such as female underwear, the objects not being limited to ‘articles of female clothing used in cross-dressing … or devices designed for the purpose of tactile genital stimulation’ (APA, 1994). In voyeurism, the sexually arousing stimulus is the observation of an unsuspecting person who is naked, in the process of disrobing, or engaging in sexual activity. In its more technologically advanced form, discussed later, voyeurism employs electronic surveillance devices that enable repeated viewing of images and opportunities to transmit these images globally. Voyeurs or ‘peeping Toms’ may return repeatedly to a setting where they have had previous success, increasing the probability of being apprehended and of their behaviours being labelled as stalking. The

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following case exhibits multiple paraphilias, predominantly voyeurism, fetishism and scatologia. CASE EXAMPLE Jared was a 20-year-old single farm hand who was convicted of stalking and using a telephone to harass. A pre-sentence psychiatric report noted the presence of multiple paraphilias and recommended he be referred to our sex-offender programme. He was given a two-year suspended sentence with a condition he participate in this programme. Jared presented initially as a rather imperious and immature young man. He was loath to discuss his offences, minimising their seriousness and attributing blame to his victim. He revealed that he had admired a local woman from afar for more than 12 months. He was attracted to her ‘pretty hair’ and big breasts, and yearned to go out with her but said he lacked the courage to ask her for a date. Instead, he followed her on foot and by car on several occasions, secretly taking photographs of her, then after locating her home telephone number in the local directory he made a series of obscene calls to her. He admitted also to having stolen some items of lingerie from her clothesline, masturbating with these during and after his calls and ejaculating over the garments and the photographs. He was apprehended after his panic-stricken victim arranged for the calls to be traced. At the age of 10, Jared was cautioned by police for shoplifting (a Penthouse magazine). At age 17 he was apprehended and charged with two counts of trespass on separate properties in his country town and received a small fine. Shortly thereafter he was convicted of burglary and theft, receiving a further fine. A year later he pleaded guilty to one count of indecent assault after grabbing the breasts of a female acquaintance at a hotel, and one count of wilful and obscene exposure. His victims on that occasion were two adolescent females who were cycling past as he hitchhiked along a main road. Jared had not received any prior psychiatric evaluation, though his mother had previously expressed her concern to his lawyer and the presiding magistrate, adding that he kept a large number of pornographic magazines and videos in his bedroom and that for some years items of her underwear had gone missing and she strongly suspected, despite his protestations, that he was responsible. The available documentation supported our suspicions that all of Jared’s prior recordable offences were sexually motivated. He admitted that he had actually been peeping at women in their bedrooms when apprehended for trespassing, in one case returning repeatedly prior to being discovered. He had burgled a home, but only after his illegal entry in search of the female occupant’s underwear; he admitted to ejaculating over the

woman’s pillow, although this was not reflected in the charges. The theft (one count) related to stealing lingerie from that victim’s clothesline, but Jared confessed he had targeted many more without detection. He was more reluctant to acknowledge other instances of exposing himself, but the probability of additional victims appeared high. In addition, he alluded to dozens of obscene telephone calls which may never have been reported by his female victims, having accrued huge phone bills on his employer’s phone. Jared was a rather solitary individual from a young age. He was a poor achiever at school, a psychological assessment in Grade 9 indicating he functioned in the borderline intellectual range. He left the educational system at the commencement of Grade 10, working for a short time in the local supermarket before becoming a farm hand eight months prior to the most recent offences. His employer commented that he was quite a good worker but that he tended to drink to excess and to make inappropriate sexual remarks to the farmer’s 40-year-old wife and 16-year-old daughter. Jared had never experienced a relationship with any adult but said he had had sexual intercourse with female prostitutes on about five occasions. He would have preferred this more regularly but his low wages and living circumstances precluded it. He proudly added that he often frequented peep shows when he was in town and once exceeded his allocated two-minute viewing time by about two hours before the licensee discovered that his booth was faulty. Jared’s only other major expense was alcohol. He was a regular at the local hotel and he described feeling ‘cool’ around the ladies when he drank. The publican begged to differ, observing that when Jared imbibed he became obnoxious towards women, and had achieved some notoriety for his foul language and lewd acts, including the incident where he grabbed and bruised a woman’s breasts. This woman had apparently been stalked by Jared over a six-week period, receiving frequent obscene calls as well as being followed and having some items of clothing stolen from her laundry, although the police felt unable to charge him on these other matters. Jared currently sees an alcohol counsellor and participates in a sex-offender treatment programme, combining behavioural techniques to control deviant sexual arousal patterns, education in human sexuality, relationship skills development and victim empathy training. He has refused to consider the option of anti-androgen therapy.

Paedophilia The fantasies, sexual urges and/or behaviours in paedophilia involve sexual activity with a prepubescent child or children. A number of child sexual abuse

Stalkers and sex offenders

cases have involved stalking behaviours, some of these culminating in murder. McCann (1995) contends that anti-stalking legislation does not meet the needs of child victims in that existing laws place emphasis on the victim’s subjective sense of fear and apprehension, yet in children this will depend on their developmental stage and cognitive maturity. It was suggested that the threat perceived by adults in the child’s family would be a more appropriate measure in cases where young children are stalked. In the following example the offender is more accurately described as a hebephile or ephebophile (Money, 1988) than a paedophile, since his victims were postpubertal minors. CASE EXAMPLE Mario was a 36-year-old single man convicted of stalking two teenage girls. He had taken an interest in the schoolgirls in shops he frequented near a high school. He admitted to following the girls in his car on several occasions as they walked home from school. He had even driven slowly up and down the street where one of the teenagers lived. The girls became aware of Mario’s interest in them, panicking when he one day pulled up beside them and offered them a ride. When they declined he grabbed one but she managed to wriggle free. The girls then ran to the nearby police station with Mario in hot pursuit, brazenly following them into the police car park. While Mario at no time denied his activities he disputed the distress he had caused his young victims. He acknowledged a sexual interest in the schoolgirls but insisted he was ‘only looking … I wasn’t going to hurt them.’ He said that he found the immediately post-pubescent female body very attractive and that many adolescent girls ‘asked for it’ because they wore skimpy outfits. Due to concerns that he might reoffend or interfere with the witnesses Mario was remanded in custody, and a month later he was sentenced to a community-based correctional order with a condition that he receive psychiatric treatment. Mario presented as a rather aggrieved individual who accepted little responsibility for his illegal behaviour. His month in jail had been a daunting experience and he seemed genuinely perplexed by the hostility from other inmates. Indeed, he had initially refused protective custody but quickly sought refuge with other sex offenders after mainstream prisoners urinated in his dessert. This experience seemed instrumental in his motivation to address his sexual problems. Mario was an only child whose parents had migrated to Australia from southern Europe when he was 11 years old. He

struggled with the English language and was teased mercilessly by his peers at school. He was a studious person who managed average grades, but he left school at 15 to work in a textile factory alongside his father. He had no real companions around his own age, and his clumsy attempts to befriend girls failed dismally. He recalls at the age of 14 following a female classmate home because he was curious to see where she lived, believing she would make an ideal girlfriend. He returned to the address on a number of occasions on weekdays and weekends, hoping to see her and find the courage to ask her out, but inexplicably her family moved away and he never saw her again. When Mario turned 18 an older male work colleague encouraged him to visit a brothel. Although he returned on many more occasions he did not find sexual intercourse with ‘mature women’ particularly inspiring. Seven years after he commenced the factory job Mario, bored and seeking better wages, obtained temporary work with a concreter. His first job was at a secondary school, which brought him into contact with the students. There was a small group of 14- and 15-year-old girls in particular who hovered about and, in his words, flirted with him. Emboldened by his improved financial position and his ‘macho’ working-man image, Mario offered one of the girls money in exchange for sex. He claims she agreed, but on that one occasion only. He found the experience intensely pleasurable and thereafter regularly purchased teenage pornographic magazines, which he carefully concealed from his parents, with whom he still resided. As anticipated, Mario divulged a long history since early adulthood of loitering near schools and undetected – or unreported – following of teenage girls. For many years he had taken refuge in a rich sexual fantasy life that revolved around schoolgirls, following them, controlling them and having sex with them. His surveillance of teenage girls fuelled his fantasy material for later masturbation. He repeatedly denied any fantasies, urges or behaviours involving rape of minors, or sexual attraction to males. Mario participates in our outpatient programme for sex offenders, which has focused particularly on his deviant sexual arousal patterns, deficient interpersonal skills and pro-offending attitudes. He remains a fairly solitary individual who tends to avoid adult social opportunities by working long shifts in a refrigerator factory. Although there have been no subsequent arrests, he has arrived late to appointments on several occasions after being involved in minor car accidents while distracted by teenage pedestrians.

Sexual masochism and sadism In sexual sadism the source of sexual gratification is ‘acts (real, not simulated) in which the psychological or

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physical suffering (including humiliation) of the victim is sexually exciting to the person’ (APA, 1994). It has been proposed that it is the wish to control another that is the primary motivating force in sadism (MacCulloch et al., 1983), Krafft-Ebing (1886) observing that ‘mastering and possessing an absolutely defenceless human object … is part of sadism.’ Boss (1949), in perhaps the most profound examination of the psychopathology of the sadist, highlighted the sadist’s attempt to break through the barrier they experienced between themselves and others via a violent and imposed penetration. The inflicting of pain or humiliation is substituted for the mutuality of an intimacy they believe to be beyond their grasp. Sadistic fantasies may well be relatively common, but if they find expression in any action it is usually in choreographed performances with likeminded partners in S&M clubs, or with prostitutes specialising in these particular sexual theatrics. The DSM-IV definitions exclude such sadistic interests or desires from the category of a paraphilia as they are simulated, though it is difficult to imagine what else these performances constitute if it is not the deviant expression of deviant desires (however common lesser forms of such a sexual proclivity may be). There is fortunately a wide gulf between indulging in sadomasochistic fantasies, or even participating in dramaturgical representations, and the inflicting of pain or worse on a frightened and coerced victim. This gulf is bridged by few, but those who do so can be amongst the most calculating and vicious of sexual offenders. Serial killers are drawn predominantly from the ranks of such deviants. These fortunately rare sexual crimes are grossly overrepresented in popular media depictions of predatory stalking. Sadism finds satisfaction in unfettered and unlimited access to the object of lust. It is in theory a one-way street in which the sadist’s desires have free rein over the captive and utterly compliant body of the other. It is not only about such control but also about the humiliation and degradation which emphasises the sadist’s power over the object of lust and the extent to which the other will go to satisfy the fantastic desires of the sadist. Sadism, at least in the idealised constructions of its habitués, surpasses inhibition, the partial and the constrained desires of normality in search of a

transcendent erotic. Curiously sadists, at least in fantasy, often construct the object of their desires as both trapped and overwhelmed whilst simultaneously being compliant and attaining pleasure through the complete satisfaction of the sadist’s desires. Perhaps this is not so curious, given that the wish to be the subject of unfettered desires is often combined with the wish to be the object of the controlling and overwhelming desire of the other. Thus the interchangeability of sadism and masochism in many practitioners. Sadism, particularly when it manifests in adolescent boys, can be linked to curiosity, a need to penetrate all those unknown places in an exploration unhindered by the sensibilities of the other or the demands of the possible, let alone the decent. Stalking potentially satisfies some of the sadist’s erotic fantasies. The stalker intrudes on the victim, satisfying curiosity by in a very real sense penetrating their privacy and integrity. These stalkers are free to indulge their fantasies as they watch, follow and loiter. They learn more about the victim, and in doing so attain a sense of control and power. Finally, by inducing fear and a sense of helplessness in the victim they potentially further satisfy their erotic desires. To some degree this sadistic aesthetic plays a role in a wide range of stalkers, but in the predatory stalkers it is often the central motivation. The stalking feeds the sadistic fantasies, and for those sadists who move from the world of their imagination to the realisation of their desires stalking becomes a preparation, a rehearsal and finally a preliminary to attack. CASE EXAMPLE Peter was in his mid twenties when he presented. He had attended his local emergency room stating that he was afraid he was going to kill someone. This led to the young man being directed by a sceptical casualty officer to a duty social worker, a curious but as it turned out a serendipitous choice. The social worker, recognising the very real threat, made a referral to our forensic clinic, insisting, successfully, on an immediate assessment. Peter had decided to seek help at the point when he was about to abduct a young woman whom he had been stalking for over six months. He had chosen a deserted house in an isolated location, acquired ties and ether, as well as having devised a plan of abduction based on a detailed knowledge of the victim’s

Stalkers and sex offenders

routine. It was when he realised he was rapidly approaching the point of no return that he made the decision to seek help rather than proceed. Peter was a pleasant-looking young man with a diffident manner and a minor speech impediment which became more pronounced when he was stressed. His use of language and the way he articulated his dilemma suggested good intelligence, though he had only the most basic of formal education. He was an only child. His father had been a heavy drinker, intermittently violent to both his partner and Peter. He finally left the relationship when Peter was eight or nine and had had subsequently only brief and superficial contact. Following the breakdown of the marriage Peter’s home life became even more unsettled, with frequent moves both from place to place and from his mother’s care to that of his maternal grandparents. The mother had a series of relationships, and his placement with the grandparents was usually dictated by the mother’s need to acquiesce to the demands of her latest male partner. As a consequence Peter was subjected to fluctuating maternal attentions, with unpredictable periods when she was entirely unavailable. At school he remained socially isolated, partly as a result of temperament, partly because no sooner had he begun to settle in a school than he was moved to a new location. Peter left school without qualifications. He left home immediately, moving to a bedsitter in which he remained until the time of his assessment. He worked in a number of unskilled occupations, the longest being as a storeman. A year prior to his presentation he had begun attending evening classes to acquire the educational skills he lacked. As an adolescent and young adult he remained socially isolated, with only casual acquaintances garnered from work contacts. He had asked women out on a number of occasions but, even when they responded favourably to his initial approaches, this had not progressed to any lasting contact let alone an intimate or sexual relationship. Peter, when first seen, had an established pattern of sexual fantasy centring on bondage, rape and the penetration of a woman with a knife. It was not clear when these sadistic fantasies first emerged, or exactly when they had become the dominant images in his masturbatory practices. He initially related this transition to having acquired some three years previously a number of bondage magazines and copies of sadistic books, in particular the Story of O. Later it emerged that sexualised fantasies of abduction and killing had probably been present from early adolescence, and that the books and magazines, at best, gave more detailed form to, and possibly encouraged a greater focus on, the sadistic daydreams. Peter was aware that the fantasies of abducting and raping were at least in part a reflection of his belief that he would never be able to establish and maintain a normal sexual relationship.

He required no interpretation to connect the need to control a woman with his experience of multiple and unpredictable desertions by his mother. He described experiencing himself as cut off from others, particularly young women, and seeing them as removed from him by an impenetrable shield. His sadism, as is the case so often, was about the rending and tearing of barriers which he experienced as standing between him and any intimacy with the desired woman. At a later stage Peter recounted episodes of voyeurism in his late teens when he would follow women he found attractive, making every effort to avoid their noticing his pursuit. When he found out where they lived he would return at night and, when it was possible, attempt to observe them by peeping through windows. He was never discovered in these voyeuristic excursions. The first extended period of stalking had not, however, occurred until he began the pursuit of the woman he had been planning to abduct. Peter had met this woman briefly at the college of further education he attended in the evenings. He had originally planned to ask her out but was so sure she would reject his approaches that he never progressed beyond saying hello to her on a couple of occasions. Catching sight of her in the street one day, he followed her to her home. The surreptitious following gave him exactly the sense of power and control over her that was absent in his contemplation of the more usual approach of asking her for a date. He began loitering in the vicinity of her house at night and taking opportunities to observe her, for example, on the train to work in the morning and when she went for lunch with work colleagues. A pattern of following and observing developed, during which he elaborated increasingly complex fantasies of rape and murder. This continued with fluctuating intensity over a period of nearly a year. He had assumed he had managed to track his victim without her observing his presence, but a few weeks earlier she had walked over to him at the train station and loudly accused him of following her, saying if he didn’t stop she’d call the police. Her angry accusations attracted considerable attention from those around them on the platform and Peter believed, probably correctly, that she was arousing the sympathy of the onlookers. He fled. Following this humiliating public exposure Peter became afraid to engage in any obvious stalking and confined himself to observing her house in the dead of night. His sadistic sexual fantasies about her were now augmented by a sense of righteous indignation at the manner in which she had publicly upbraided him. He concluded that the only way forward was for him to put into practice his fantasies of abduction. On completion of this dreadful project he was intending to also end his own life by hanging. Fortunately, before putting these plans into

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action a moment of insight into the awful nature of this carefully prepared murder–suicide enabled him to seek help. When initially assessed, Peter was actively suicidal, having now resolved to kill himself rather than abandon himself to his murderous project. It was apparent that he had had significant depressive symptoms for some considerable time and that in part the increasing insistence of his sadistic fantasy life reflected an increasing hopelessness about himself and his current existence. His initial management focused on treatment of the depressive symptoms, with a postponement of the fuller exploration of his sexual deviance and social and interpersonal difficulties. Peter’s commitment to avoid slipping back into a murderous state of mind led to an enthusiastic engagement in treatment. He attended both for counselling and for treatment of his depressive symptoms. He also continued contact with the social worker who had originally assessed him assiduously, following all her suggestions with regard to changing his work to enable greater interpersonal contact, joining a sports club and actively developing social contacts when opportunities arose. Retrospectively, it was clear that the planned abduction and associated panic which had led him to the emergency room was a watershed in this man’s life.

To revive a word from the dead language of psychoanalysis, sadistic behaviours are overdetermined. In Peter’s case, sadism was a response in varying degrees to a frustrated sexuality, a lack of intimacy, social alienation and the powerlessness of a devalued and abused childhood. An intervention that simply addressed the social isolation made the resort to actual sexual violence less probable.

Paraphilic asphyxia (asphyxiophilia) Sexual excitement is produced, or enhanced, in certain individuals by a degree of asphyxia. Central to the practices surrounding erotic asphyxia is the production of a degree of cerebral hypoxia, usually by mechanical constriction of the carotid arteries in the neck but also by chemical means (usually involving inhalation of toxic gases) or the obstruction of breathing (Hazelwood et al., 1989). Various forms of autoerotic asphyxia are the commonest manifestation of this curious and potentially lethal sexual practice. In autoerotic asphyxia, sexual excitement during masturbation is augmented by ligatures around the neck or by restrictions to breathing such as plastic bags over the head. Asphyxia also forms

part of the sexual activities of some practitioners of bondage or other sadomasochistic pursuits. In these situations the erotic element is usually the experiencing of the effects of cerebral anoxia, but for a small group sexual excitement is produced by asphyxiating their partner. The erotic triggers for those who are excited by inducing, or witnessing, asphyxia are around control, the helplessness of the partially asphyxiated ‘partner’ and the appearance of total abandonment. Like any deviant or paraphilic practice, erotic asphyxia can form part of an individual’s sexual repertoire or become virtually the exclusive expression of their sexuality. A rare variant of erotic asphyxia is sexual excitation both at the sight of someone being asphyxiated by drowning and at the sight of a drowned corpse. The drowned body as a provocation to sexual excitement for these individuals is not primarily necrophilic but connected to the fantasising of the process of drowning. The following is an extract from a young man’s account of this condition, which is published in full in Money (1988). The subject is referring to the drowning murder of a woman on a popular TV police drama: Now it never ceases to amaze me that drownings of girls are the longest murders that they do on T.V. A shooting of a girl isn’t much, and neither is a stabbing (for me, psycho and slasher films don’t count), but a drowning of a girl has more camera angles and lots more shots. It takes longer to drown a girl, and they have special music for the scene too, usually thrilling types of music that are supposed to be exciting, and maybe it is supposed to be scary, but I know one thing, that whole thing has fucked up my life for the past two weeks now. I keep seeing the vision of the murder over and over and over in my mind, over and over and over again. Orgasm after orgasm. For days and days. If only I could have taped it and watched it over and over again. In filming a girl drowning, a lot of the extra footage is not even used. I wish I could get hold of that extra footage of her drowning. (pp. 164–7)

The following case shared similar fantasies, which led to stalking and was complicated by alcoholic brain damage with an organic delusional disorder of erotomanic type. CASE EXAMPLE George was a 44-year-old invalid pensioner referred to us by his defence lawyer after he was remanded in custody on charges

Stalkers and sex offenders

of stalking. His history of violence was noted, including his discharge from the Army after threatening the life of another soldier, serious assaults upon his wife (using a knife on one occasion) and numerous pub fights. George became enamoured of a teacher at an adult literacy course, claiming it was ‘love at first sight’. He described her in detail, believing her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had gathered considerable information about her, including her address, the addresses of immediate members of her family and her usual movements. Over the six months since his first contact with his teacher, George took every opportunity to see her and to talk to her. He said that at the time he was convinced that she reciprocated his feelings and was in love with him. He claimed this affection was revealed by her waving to him, talking to him and smiling at him. He made a number of attempts to follow her, and phoned both her and her family. One evening, after consuming a large quantity of alcohol, he approached her in her office, expressed his affection and was politely but firmly rejected. He became angry, threatened her and pushed her against a wall. Subsequently he phoned both her mother and her sister and made death threats. He also went to the sister’s address looking for her, and it was then that the police were phoned and he was arrested. George acknowledged his violent past, understanding this to be a major factor in his wife’s decision to leave him two years previously. He conceded also that he had a long history of problem drinking. This was supported by documented evidence of global cognitive impairment with a recent computerised tomography scan demonstrating mild atrophy of the cerebral cortex. In addition, exploration of his sexual development and fantasies revealed his long-standing propensity to indulge in fantasies of drowning women. He described feeling sexually aroused by visions of women drowning, but also by visions of dead women floating and even decomposing in the water. Chillingly, he admitted to entertaining such fantasies in relationships, both in the case of women he had known in the past and most particularly in the case of the teacher that he had recently stalked. He had on occasions planned in detail how he could either drown someone or kill a woman and place her body in the water. Despite his years of alcohol excess he reported normal sexual functioning. While in custody, George received psychiatric treatment in the form of depot injections of the antipsychotic medication flupenthixol. When released two months later on a communitybased correctional order he agreed to attend our clinic, although there was no legal imperative to do so. George was placed in supported accommodation with regular input from prison post-

release outreach services. He has lost interest in drinking since his stint in prison and involves himself on a voluntary basis with a welfare agency sorting clothing donations. His erotomanic delusions have responded favourably to the antipsychotic medication and he has not been in further contact with his victim. He is quite frank about the continuation of his bizarre sexual fantasies, but asserts they have diminished substantially in frequency and intensity and he has not experienced any strong urges to act on them. Basic behavioural strategies have assisted in this regard, together with support and efforts to improve his living skills. It is recognised that George will require close supervision over an extended period, and at the present time he is amenable to this.

The upskirter: problem behaviour mislabelled as stalking The accessibility and affordability of new technology such as camera phones and miniaturised video surveillance devices has produced a new breed of voyeur, along with new threats to personal privacy and further challenges to legislators. Voyeurs can now covertly tape their victims through low-light sensitive cameras as small as a pen or a pack of cards. These cameras are easy to install and to conceal (in a recent Australian case dubbed ‘sneaker cam’ the camera was discretely mounted on the top of the offender’s shoe). They can also be remotely activated. The new-age voyeur can view and replay his material in the privacy of his own home, with less risk of apprehension (Simon, 1997). Although stalkers are undoubtedly exploiting this technology, not all video-voyeuristic behaviours constitute stalking. Yet in our jurisdiction the perpetrators are commonly charged with this offence. One increasingly prevalent form of video voyeurism, ‘upskirting’, involves obtaining surreptitious images and video from beneath the dresses of unsuspecting people (or from above, in the case of ‘downblousing’), usually with a camera phone or miniature video camera. The equipment is typically concealed in bags, clothing, shoes (hence ‘sneaker cam’), or even the palm of their hand, in locations where access is possible (e.g. public events, shopping centres, escalators, public transport.) These images may be downloaded and retained as personal fantasy material or posted on websites. In January 2007 a 34-year-old Japanese student was jailed

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in Melbourne, Victoria, for upskirting offences. He was caught filming women showering in a city backpackers’ hostel. Police also discovered an upskirting photo on his camera which had been taken at the Australian Open tennis tournament days before. The student’s lawyer explained that his client was deeply remorseful and his actions were opportunistic, in that a friend had recently lent him the camera and pointed out a ‘special feature’ that allowed him to secretly record things. (That may be so, but it is interesting to note that Japan has experienced a boom in upskirting, prompting legislation that requires all cell phones with cameras to make a loud ‘shutter release’ noise when taking a picture (News2Houston, 2004)). The student pleaded guilty to stalking, using an optical device and offensive behaviour, and received a six-month prison sentence (ABC News Online, 2007). Clearly, this man’s victims either remain unaware of his actions or discovered them after the fact, but it is immaterial whether his behaviour aroused apprehension and fear in his victims, as Victoria’s anti-stalking laws require only that a person subjected to this behaviour would reasonably feel fearful (see Chapter 23). These statutes do, however, require that the crimes are perpetrated ‘with the intention of causing physical or mental harm to the victim or of arousing apprehension or fear in the victim for his or her safety or that of any other person’ (Crimes Act 1958, italics added), which was most unlikely in this case. His conviction for stalking could also have reasonably been challenged on the basis that the offending behaviours must constitute a course of conduct, and isolated acts of voyeurism targeting available quarry rather than any specific person, however invasive and abhorrent, cannot be deemed stalking. Legislators around the world are examining the adequacy of existing laws in dealing with this insidious sexual crime (see Standing Committee of Attorneys-General, 2005). In the meantime, he has appealed his prison sentence.

The non-sexual predatory stalker These are almost exclusively drawn from the ranks of the stalkers of public figures. This group is distinct from the terrorists, freedom fighters and other political

activists in that they are pursuing a personal agenda in isolation from political or other groups. This is discussed further in Chapter 18.

Management of the predatory stalker Clinical studies consistently underscore the predatory stalker’s high potential for sexual assaultiveness, which may occur in the absence of any prior warning. Furthermore, as a group, these stalkers show a tendency for shorter periods of pursuit, commonly terminated by arrest or sexual attack. When sexually motivated stalkers are apprehended they may be charged with sexual offences alone or in addition to charges of stalking, but the latter may be brought without reference to the crucial underlying sexual pathology. The predatory group highlights the perils of approaching stalking as a homogeneous entity, with an exclusive focus on the harassing behaviours to the neglect of their context and driving force. Although they constitute only a small subset of stalkers, it is imperative, given their potential to pursue multiple victims and their sexual violence, that this group of stalkers be recognised and appropriately treated. The avoidance of treatment programmes that typifies sex offenders in general, as well as issues of dangerousness and recidivism, dictates that the success of any treatment is likely to depend on the appropriate mix of legal sanctions and therapeutic interventions. While it is generally recognised that paraphilic behaviours, because of their insistent and compelling nature, respond poorly to incarceration, imprisonment may prove the only realistic dispositional option for serious recidivist offenders. Ideally, these individuals should be included in prison sex-offender treatment programmes, with continuation of treatment upon release, preferably as a condition of any parole order. It is useful to draw on the combined resources of supervising community correctional and specialist forensic mental health services in the management of these challenging cases. This cooperative approach has equal merit in the treatment of offenders who receive a community-based disposition. While it is beyond the scope of this book to detail current treatment approaches for sexually deviant and

Management of the predatory stalker

offensive behaviours, it should be noted that a comprehensive approach addressing both offence-specific and offence-related factors is most likely to succeed in reducing recidivism (see Marshall et al., 2006). Lindsay and colleagues (1998) suggest that groupbased cognitive therapy may be more efficacious than individual therapy in the intellectually disabled sexual predator, with the constructive application of group pressure to highlight cognitive distortions and facilitate attitudinal change, in addition to providing

important opportunities to develop interpersonal skills. Predatory stalkers commonly share with their non-sexually deviant counterparts a lonely and socially inept existence with a paucity of meaningful adult relationships. These deficiencies pose a significant therapeutic challenge, but life skills training combined with cognitive behavioural and pharmacological therapies specifically directed at the sexual aberration offer hope to the sexually deviant stalker and a reprieve for his victims.

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10 Stalking among juveniles

Introduction Current social and scientific constructions of stalking are limited by the almost exclusive focus on this behaviour as a form of adult-only violence. Case studies (Urbach et al., 1992; McCann, 2000, 2001; Brewster, 2003b) and media reports, however, suggest that stalking is a behaviour both perpetrated by, and inflicted upon, children and adolescents. Despite this, few studies have examined the extent, nature or impacts of stalking activities in juveniles – the notable exception being the studies on relationship intrusion, which, though not specifically focused on adolescents, does largely concern this group. This neglect of juvenile stalking is striking when one considers the crucial stage at which this behaviour occurs in both the victim’s and the perpetrator’s social, emotional and vocational development. The experience of being stalked during childhood or adolescence is likely not only to compromise the victim’s emotional wellbeing, but potentially also to interfere with their educational functioning, the consequences of which may echo into future employment or higher-education opportunities. The developing personality of the young victim may also be influenced by the experience of being stalked, such that prominent themes of fear, mistrust and isolation are incorporated, to the potential detriment of their social and interpersonal functioning. Just as childhood trauma and abuse has been shown to lead to adverse psychosocial outcomes in adulthood (Fergusson & Mullen, 1999; Fleming et al., 1999), so may stalking during youth, although this remains to be investigated.

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Equally, the consequences of engaging in stalking can be ruinous for young perpetrators, who may be liable (in many jurisdictions) to criminal prosecution under stalking legislation and related laws. The significant proportion of perpetrators who harass or stalk their contemporaries at school may also face suspensions or even expulsion, with attendant educational or vocational repercussions. While the potential impacts on the victim (and stalker) are cause enough for greater attention to juvenile stalking, it is the opportunity for prevention – or at least early intervention – with this group of offenders that makes the issue so especially compelling. Intervening at the first signs of stalking behaviours offers the best chance of reducing stalking recidivism in the perpetrator, and arguably of stemming any progression to more entrenched or serious forms of interpersonal violence in later life (e.g. domestic abuse or sexual assault). Regrettably, early intervention in juvenile justice and adolescent forensic mental health is sorely lacking, if not absent, in most countries. Such reform is urgently needed not only to promote the functional recovery of young offenders, but to move to a more preventive approach in the management of offenders and offending. The study of juvenile stalking offers a critical step forward in how this may be achieved. Given the dearth of research on juvenile stalking, this chapter draws predominantly on our recent empirical study of juvenile stalkers (Purcell, Moller, Flower & Mullen, in submission), as well as on our clinical experience, to examine the contexts in which stalking emerges among children and adolescents, and to highlight some of the particular challenges posed by

Stalking by juveniles

managing both young perpetrators and victims. We have defined juveniles as those aged 18 years or less, and therefore we have not considered here the body of work on stalking experiences among college students (see Ravensberg & Miller, 2003, for a review of this literature). Furthermore, our interest is with stalking behaviour among juveniles; that is, repeated unwanted intrusions that induce fear in the victim. Related phenomena that are commonplace in adolescence (e.g. crushes, infatuation) are discussed only to the extent that they precipitate persistent pursuit or harassment, but we do not consider these behaviours necessarily to be analogous to stalking.

Stalking by juveniles Stalking by children and adolescents is considered by some to be ‘relatively rare’ or ‘uncommon’ (Scott et al., 2007), despite the absence of any prevalence studies of stalking in this population. The lack of scientific and popular attention given to juvenile stalking may be explained in part by the common misconception that, by virtue of their age and development, children and adolescents are simply not capable of engaging in behaviours as egregious as stalking. Though, given the evidence of serious and even lethal offending among juveniles, this seems naive. Many of the motivations for stalking that operate in adults are just as apparent in young people, such as dealing with disputes among friends or colleagues, and initiating or terminating a relationship. As this book attests, negotiating the coming together and breaking apart of intimate relationships is a challenge for many adults, let alone juveniles, who are likely to be struggling with their first romantic or sexual entanglements. While adolescence is a period of ‘firsts’ (first sexual experience, first use of alcohol and drugs, first relationship, first heartbreak: Elkind, 1998), the age of many of these ‘firsts’ has been steadily decreasing in recent decades. Teenagers in most developed English-speaking countries are now increasingly sexually active from a young age (Skinner & Hickey, 2003). The most recent figures in Australia, for example, indicate that the median age of first vaginal intercourse for both males and females is now 16 years (Rissel et al.,

2003), with the median age for other sexual activities (e.g. oral sex) even lower. The challenges of navigating intimate relationships are arguably complicated in juveniles by developmental variations in social competence and emotional and cognitive maturity. The phenomenon of the ‘crush’ can be an invaluable experience as it offers the young person a soft-entry into the world of romantic love and all the emotions that that entails, without the risks and hazards of embarking on an actual relationship. A ‘crush’ is defined as an intense but fleeting infatuation (OED), usually upon a celebrity (e.g. movie star, sportsperson, singer), although teachers are common, accessible objects of affection, as are, to a lesser extent, older friends or schoolmates. The crush is a customary part of adolescence that, negotiated well, teaches the young person how to manage powerful emotions: not only ardour or devotion but, more often than not, disappointment and disillusionment. However intense the infatuation, and however vast the amount of mental energy (and money) expended on the desired object, the crush represents for most people little more than ephemera. The desired object is eventually either replaced by a newer and more intriguing model, or reality intrudes to rudely shatter the illusion (‘he’s going out with her’). While a crush may precipitate an episode of stalking, these behaviours should not be regarded as synonymous. Unfortunately, in the case of juveniles, stalking that emerges in the context of trying to initiate or reconcile a relationship is often trivialised as representing little more than the throes of ‘puppy love’ or a crush (Brewster, 2003b). Minimising such incidents of juvenile stalking is at best misguided, and at worst reckless, given the damaging nature of the victimisation and the potential for escalation to serious physical violence. Joseph McCann’s (1998, 2000, 2001) influential work on adolescent stalkers provided the first indication that this behaviour cannot merely be dismissed as ‘teenage infatuation gone awry’. Drawing on legal case reports, mental health evaluations and media articles published in the United States, McCann (2000) assembled 13 cases of juvenile stalkers (or ‘obsessional followers’) in order to characterise, albeit in a preliminary manner,

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the context and nature of stalking activities in young perpetrators. The age of this group ranged from nine to 18 years, with all but one of the perpetrators male (the exception being an erotomanic girl who pursued a female teacher, as well as a physician), and all but one of the victims female. Adults were pursued in seven cases (including three strangers) and six involved the stalking of peer-aged victims. Not surprisingly, given the method of sampling, clinical diagnoses were noted in seven of the 13 cases, including conduct disorder in four cases and psychosis in two. The young perpetrators in McCann’s sample (2000) typically confined their stalking activities to seeking physical proximity to their victims (usually involving overt sexual advances) and making repeated phone calls. The broader range of stalking behaviours observed in adult perpetrators was not reported here, although the rates of threatening (61%) and physically violent conduct (31%) were not dissimilar to those in adult samples (see McEwan et al., 2007a). The primary motivation for stalking in this series was the desire for ‘sexual contact’ with the victim, followed by revenge and resentment. These juveniles typically pursued known acquaintances (61%), such as classmates and teachers, although three pursued strangers, and one teenager reportedly stalked his parent. Only one case involved the stalking of an ex-intimate partner. McCann contrasted the nature of the prior relationship in this young sample with adult stalkers, who are far more likely to target prior intimates. McCann (2001) attributed this difference to developmental variation, arguing that emerging sexual feelings in adolescents predispose them to fixate more on casual acquaintances than prior intimate partners. It is not clear to us, however, why this would produce such a distinction, particularly since actual – rather then merely hoped for – sexual intimacy is increasingly common in adolescents. McCann’s (2000) small and selective sample likely represents the extreme end of the stalking spectrum, with the perpetrator’s behaviour being sufficiently damaging or disordered in each instance to warrant mental health or criminal justice intervention (or worse, media attention). While this prevents meaningful generalisations, McCann’s work has nonetheless been instrumental in drawing attention to the problem of juvenile

stalking. Importantly, his findings indicated that stalking in juveniles can be motivated by factors which operate in adult perpetrators (intimacy seeking, revenge) and that psychopathology and personality disturbance contribute to this form of offending. The frequency of overt sexual advances in this sample is notable, however, perhaps pointing to the degree of social ineptitude in many younger stalkers. That threats were common in this series, and physical assaults occurred in a third of cases, clearly demonstrates that stalking by juveniles cannot merely be dismissed as harmless or otherwise innocuous.

An empirical study of juvenile stalking In order to systematically assess the nature of juvenile stalking, Purcell et al. (in submission) assembled a large sample of juvenile perpetrators from a metropolitan Children’s Court in Melbourne, Australia. The sample was obtained by an archival search of consecutive applications for a restraining order against a juvenile aged 18 years or less. In Australia, as in many other jurisdictions worldwide, cases of stalking are frequently managed via applications for a restraining order prior to the initiation of criminal charges of stalking. Restraining orders are recommended to victims by both police and court staff as a ‘first-line’ approach to managing stalking, as many anti-stalking laws requires proof that the perpetrators’ unwanted behaviour is intentional (Purcell et al., 2004b). The breach of a restraining order therefore provides – in theory – the basis for establishing intent for potential future criminal prosecutions. Consecutive applications in the Melbourne Children’s Court between 1 January 2004 and 30 November 2006 for an order against a juvenile perpetrator were extracted. An application for a restraining order may be made in the Children’s Court when either party (victim or perpetrator) is a juvenile. An adult, usually a parent or police officer, may also make an application on behalf of a minor. Of the 928 restraining order applications against a juvenile processed, 299 (32%) met the study criteria of stalking by a juvenile (Purcell et al., in submission). A distinction was drawn between bullying and bullying

An empirical study of juvenile stalking

involving stalking behaviours, on the perhaps arguable basis of where the behaviours occurred. Approaches, notes, spoken provocations and even following which occurred entirely within the premises of a school or public institution which both victim and perpetrator were legitimately attending were classified as bullying but not stalking. When such behaviours extended beyond the school or shared institution into the domestic and social situation in the wider community this was classified as stalking. The majority of victims in the study by Purcell et al. (in submission) were female (69%) and their mean age was 18.8 years (SD = 11.3, range 5–77). The majority were attending secondary school (72%) or primary school (12%), with 11% in paid employment. The majority of juvenile stalkers were male (64%), with a mean age of 15.4 years (SD = 1.8, range 9–18 years). Like their victims, most were attending secondary (79%) or primary school (8%). The majority of victims knew the perpetrator (98%), with only 2% stalked by someone who had previously been a stranger to them. The prior relationship most commonly involved a current or ex-school peer (24%), or a family or peer acquaintance (23%). The perpetrator was an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend in 21%, an estranged friend in 15% and a neighbour in 14% of cases. Overall, 57% of cases involved same-gender stalking, with females significantly more likely to pursue someone of the same gender than their male counterparts (86% vs. 40%). Similarly, while 30% of the sample used the tactic of stalking by proxy (see Chapter 14), this strategy was more strongly favoured by female perpetrators than males (42% vs. 23%). Juvenile stalkers typically subjected their victims to unwanted approaches (76%), phone calls (42%), text messaging (15%) and following (16%). Other unwanted intrusions involved cyberstalking (11%), spreading of malicious rumours (7%) and loitering (10%). Few juvenile stalkers sent their victims unwanted letters (2%) or maintained surveillance (2%). The mean number of stalking methods was 2.1 (range 1–5) and the duration of the unwanted conduct ranged from 16 days to 6 years (median 120 days). Overall, 75% of victims reported being threatened and 15% reported threats against a secondary target,

usually a relative or friend. Threats ranged from veiled (e.g. ‘watch your back’) through to explicit threats to harm, rape and kill. One female threatened to cut and disfigure the face of a young pregnant woman whom she had subjected to a lengthy campaign of stalking, in the belief that the victim had made a derogatory remark about her. Over 50% of victims reported being physically assaulted. Cuts and bruises were common injuries from being kicked, scratched, punched and pushed by perpetrators, although several victims lost consciousness after being strangled or suffering head injuries (one perpetrator smashed his ex-girlfriend’s head into the footpath outside her school). Weapons (e.g. knives, bottles or sporting equipment) were also used. Sexual assaults were disclosed by five victims, including a 14year-old girl who was raped by her 15-year-old exboyfriend on school grounds, and a six-year-old boy who was molested by his 13-year-old neighbour. The motivation for the perpetrator’s behaviour and the context in which the stalking emerged were used to construct categories of stalking. All but six cases could be categorised (in the remaining six, insufficient content was provided in the victim’s report to make an assessment). The motivational categories significantly differentiated both aspects of the perpetrators’ characteristics and their methods of stalking.

Stalking as an extension of bullying Stalking as an extension of bullying, which usually commenced in a school context, was the single most common group (28%). No clear initial precipitant for the behaviour could be discerned other than the perpetrator’s desire to persecute and torment the victim. This in no way distinguishes the behaviour from bullying confined to the school environment. The behaviour of these perpetrators involved a high degree of threatening and physically assaultive conduct, as well as intrusions via unwanted approaches. This type of stalking typically persisted for several months. There was a single victim, usually a school peer (56%) or estranged friend (21%). Males and females were equally represented as perpetrators and victims in this category. The rates of associated violence and the duration of

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the behaviour did not differ according to gender. Involving others in the harassment and same-gender stalking were most likely to occur in this context. It was common in the bullying situation which had extended into the victim’s domestic and social life for a concerned parent to file the application on their child’s behalf (68%).

Retaliating stalkers Retaliation for some perceived injury or slight motivated the stalking in 22%. Retaliatory cases were distinguished from bullying in that a precipitating incident or grievance could be identified in each instance. Males and females were equally represented among perpetrators, who fixated their animus usually towards acquaintances (48%) and estranged friends (29%) rather than school peers (17%). The stalking consisted mainly of unwanted approaches (82%) and phone calls (55%). Threats were common, though comparatively few assaults were committed.

Rejected stalkers Stalking following the termination of an intimate or dating relationship between the victim and perpetrator occurred in 22% of cases. These cases usually, but not exclusively, involved a male perpetrator harassing and intruding upon a female victim (86% of cases). The victim and perpetrator had frequently attended the same school. Rejected perpetrators focused their energies on subjecting the victim to unwanted approaches at multiple venues (73%), inundating them with phone calls (66%) and making threats. Third parties were also often targeted by rejected juveniles, typically the victim’s parent(s) or new romantic interest. Physical assaults were not uncommon (44%), and two victims reported being raped by their stalker. There was a relatively brief duration of stalking in this group. CASE EXAMPLE Cassie (14 years) was referred to an adolescent mental health service for treatment of suicidal depression and anxiety in the context of her having been stalked, threatened and assaulted by her ex-boyfriend.

Nick (15 years) and Cassie were friends from primary school. Their efforts to keep in contact with one another after moving to different secondary schools eventually developed into a dating relationship which lasted 18 months. From the outset, Cassie noted that Nick was ‘possessive’, but initially she didn’t mind spending all of her time with him. However, when she refused his requests for sex, Nick began subjecting her to more intense scrutiny and surveillance. According to Cassie, Nick was ‘paranoid’ that she would leave him (and her virginity) for someone else. When his demands for sex began to border on physical intimidation, Cassie ended the relationship. Nick responded immediately by throwing a brick through the front window of her home and threatening to harm Cassie’s mother if she notified the police. Cassie was inundated with SMS and voicemail messages telling her ‘not to be stupid’ and threatening her if she should ‘so much as look at another guy’. In full view of her classmates one afternoon, Nick attempted to drag Cassie into his brother’s car, but fled when a teacher intervened. Staff at Cassie’s school were alarmed by the incident, but claimed that they were hampered in their ability to act as Nick was not one of their students. They instead recommended that Cassie and her mother obtain a restraining order against Nick. Despite Cassie’s considerable fear and misgivings that this would ‘provoke him even more’, they applied for and received an interim restraining order, with a final hearing scheduled six weeks later. Four weeks prior to the hearing, Nick repeatedly raped Cassie on the school grounds after classes. He threatened to kill her if she told anyone about the assaults. Fearing for her life, Cassie refused to proceed with the restraining order, and her mother reluctantly withdrew the application. Cassie subsequently required a pregnancy termination as a result of the assault. Despite her mother’s pleas, she continues to refuse to cooperate in any criminal charges against Nick for fear for their safety.

Disorganised and disturbed stalkers In 20% of cases the stalker harassed a number of people at the same time, often with few, if any, obvious links between them. In these cases, no clear precipitant for the perpetrator’s behaviour could be discerned, other than the perpetrator’s frequently noted ‘long-standing’ conduct problems. There were multiple victims and, in contrast to bullying, the stalking emerged outside of the school context. The most common context for this pattern of stalking involved the prolonged harassment of neighbours (47%) and acquaintances (22%). The behaviour was largely confined to unwanted

Impacts of stalking by juveniles

approaches (76%), threats and property damage, though assaults also occurred. Perpetrators in this group were the most likely to target adult victims (50%). A number of these cases had come to the attention of the children’s courts for unrelated offences. This group seems to be constituted of a mixed bag of unhappy, angry and delinquent young people at war with their environment.

Predatory stalkers In 5% of cases the perpetrator’s behaviour was predatory, being primarily aimed at imposing unwanted sexual contact on the victim. Most perpetrators were male, although one female exhibited this behaviour. The target was usually a younger child (31%) or an age-peer (62%), though there were a few adult victims. This group limited their behaviours to directly approaching the victim (56%) and making threats, usually demanding compliance with their sexual demands. The rate of assault, often sexual, was higher in this group than in any other category.

Intimacy-seeking stalkers Few juveniles in this series were motivated by infatuation, or the desire to establish an intimate relationship with the victim (2%). All but one of the infatuated perpetrators were males pursuing a female, usually an acquaintance or school peer. While small in number, this group was notable for a longer duration of pursuit than all other groups and a greater number of harassment methods, being one of the few groups to maintain surveillance (50%) and loiter (33%). Threats and assaults were comparatively rare. CASE EXAMPLE Andrew, a 17-year-old male secondary-school student, was suspended during his final year for stalking a fellow student with whom he was enamoured. He was referred by his school counsellor for an assessment of both his mental state and his likelihood of continuing to stalk if permitted to return to classes. Andrew presented as a socially awkward young man. He admitted being infatuated with Amy, although he was unable to articulate what made her especially appealing. He denied having ever stalked Amy, attributing his frequent approaches to her at school as ‘legitimate’ in the context of shared classes, and

his visits to her workplace as innocent (‘They make the best fish and chips in town’). He was unable, however, to explain how he came to obtain Amy’s phone number, home address and email address. Nor could Andrew adequately explain frequently walking past Amy’s house, given that he lived on the other side of town. Despite Amy’s continued rejection of his advances, Andrew persisted in his quest. After five months of pursuit, he finally wrote a letter to Amy declaring his love, which precipitated a complaint to the school from the distressed victim and her parents, and culminated in Andrew’s suspension. Prior to the stalking, Andrew was described by the school counsellor as a pleasant student. His academic performance was above average and he had never posed any behavioural difficulties. While Andrew described having been bullied and ostracised at school, he did not feel this had affected him in any significant way. But he did acknowledge a limited network of friends. He stated that he had never had a girlfriend before, nor indeed any close friendships with females. Upon assessment, Andrew showed no evidence of mental illness, but his stalking was clearly the product of his deficient courting skills. He reluctantly stated that he was aware that Amy did not reciprocate his feelings. He even acknowledged that he was ‘imposing’ himself on Amy, when she was so obviously distressed by his frequent approaches, but claimed he didn’t know how else to demonstrate his affections. He refused to accept, however, that his actions amounted to ‘stalking’, as he never intended to cause harm to Amy. By Andrew’s account, many of his approaches were merely designed to assuage her concerns about his persistent behaviour and intentions. Nonetheless, Andrew did grasp that any further pursuit of Amy would undoubtedly constitute stalking. At any rate, he regretted the damage his actions had caused and did not want to visit any more harm on Amy. Equally, he acknowledged being embarrassed and ‘stressed’ by the situation, and worried about the impact of the suspension on his grades. Given his insight into his behaviour, along with his remorse, it was recommended that Andrew be allowed to return to school, with strict limits imposed on face-to-face contact or other proximity-seeking with the victim. As his social incompetence was central to his pursuit of Amy, Andrew was encouraged to continue his school counselling to address his interpersonal difficulties, and to minimise the risk of future stalking activities.

Impacts of stalking by juveniles Purcell et al. (in submission) report a range of adverse effects in victims, chief among them anxiety and

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pervasive fear that the perpetrator would ‘make good’ on threats. Students subjected to prolonged stalking by peers and ex-boyfriends and girlfriends attending the same school frequently indicated being unable to concentrate in class and fearing for their safety, both at school and in transit to and from school. Absenteeism and a decline in school performance were commonly reported in this context. Severe depression and suicidal ideation was noted in several dozen cases, with at least one victim requiring hospitalisation. Similar levels of distress were reported by parents who filed applications on their child’s behalf, several indicating being so ‘sick with fear’ for their child’s safety that they accompanied their children to and from school, often compromising their own work performance. In a handful of cases, parents had removed their child from school or relocated home at considerable financial cost. CASE EXAMPLE Katie, a 14-year-old student, was referred for assessment in the context of her having been stalked by her ex-boyfriend Dan (also 14 years) for four months. Katie and Dan attended the same high school and had started going out some seven months earlier. Katie described their three-month relationship as initially happy, but it deteriorated as Dan became increasingly jealous. In the weeks prior to their break-up, Katie stated that she was ‘forbidden’ by Dan to talk to other boys at her school, and if she did, he would physically ‘grab and drag’ her away. When he tried to impose limits on her after-school and weekend activities, Katie ended the relationship via SMS. Over the next three months, Dan engaged in daily disruptive behaviour at school to show Katie ‘how much he cared’. He frequently cried and moaned in class, banged his head on his desk, and repeatedly stared at Katie. He was often observed sitting inside his locker during school breaks crying. When Katie complained to her teachers about his behaviour, she was advised that she should ignore it (as they were), as it was merely ‘attention-seeking’. This advice was repeated when Dan threw a glass of water at Katie and her new boyfriend, showering them with shards as it hit a nearby wall. Dan bragged that he was responsible for defacing a photograph of Katie displayed in the school trophy cabinet and writing ‘SLUT’ on the footpath outside her home. Only when Dan cut his wrists at school and presented them to Katie did the school acquiesce to her parents’ requests to take action. Dan was instructed to take a ‘10-day break’, but his behaviour only worsened on return. His previous classroom dramatics were replaced by mouthing

menacing threats to Katie, and spreading a false, and sexually explicit, rumour about Katie via SMS. When the principal refused to place further sanctions on Dan’s behaviour (claiming that expulsion could not be considered since there was no other public school in town), Katie’s parents withdrew her from the school and at considerable cost enrolled her at a private school. The family then sought and obtained an intervention order against Dan. Dan observed the order for three weeks, but then recommenced his harassment, eventually trying to assault Katie outside her new school. When assessed, Katie was suffering significant anxiety and depression. Her hair was failing out, she had lost significant weight and was suffering amenorrhea, and was unable to sleep due to nightmares. She stated that she was ‘unable to feel safe’ except in the presence of one or both of her parents. She wanted to abandon the criminal charges pending against Dan (assault and breaching an intervention order) for fear of having to face him in court. Having previously won a scholarship to attend school, she was now struggling with her studies, given her impaired concentration. Katie and her parents were provided information to enhance their safety and minimise any future contacts by Dan, and Katie was referred to a psychiatrist in her regional town. At last contact, while Katie had settled into her new school and was making some progress, her parents were weighing the costs of moving to another town, ‘to be rid of any more threat from that boy’.

Juvenile stalkers: comparisons with their adult counterparts The picture of stalking by juveniles which emerges from the study by Purcell et al. (in submission) differs to that characteristic of adults. This sample demonstrates even higher levels of threats and violence, greater involvement of female perpetrators, and more involvement of accomplices in the harassment. The contexts in which stalking emerged in this sample differed not only from that found in adults but also from that suggested in the previous literature on juvenile stalking (McCann, 2000). Stalking by rejected ex-partners is the single commonest context in which stalking emerges in adults (Mullen et al., 1999; Palarea et al., 1999). In the juvenile population stalking by ex-partners was less frequent than in adult samples, though it still made a substantial contribution. Stalking as an extension of bullying was the commonest form, which was not surprising. What was

Juvenile stalkers: comparisons with their adult counterparts

unexpected was the frequency of stalking related to retaliation for actual or supposed injury, and a rather non-specific pattern of disorganised harassment usually directed at more than one target. Such disorganised harassment is rarely encountered among adults. There was an almost total absence of stalking related to infatuation or attempts to impose an unwanted relationship by repeated advances, except in the context of highly deviant predation. When it came to the impact of the behaviour on victims, however, the parallels with adult victims were clear. It is not obvious to whom this population of juvenile stalkers should be compared. Had they been adults, most of the individuals concerned, on the basis of their behaviour, would have been charged with the criminal offences of stalking and/or assault rather than be left to the civil jurisdiction and retraining orders. This method of dealing with such cases is appropriate, given the policy in Australia to avoid bringing juveniles into the adult criminal justice system whenever possible. But it is probable that the proper comparisons are to forensic rather than community samples of stalking by adults. In contrast to adult stalkers from community studies and forensic samples, who typically utilise a broad repertoire of intrusive behaviour, including relatively covert forms of harassment such as loitering and maintaining surveillance, juvenile stalkers in this sample favoured direct means of contact, mostly via unwanted approaches and phone calls. The rates of threats and assaults in these juvenile stalkers are notably higher than those reported in adult samples (see McEwan et al., 2007a). Juvenile stalking appears more likely to manifest as a direct, intense and overtly threatening form of pursuit than that observed in adults. In adult stalkers the lowest rates of violence against person and property are found among those who pursue strangers (Mohandie et al., 2006). The sample studied by Purcell et al. included only a handful who were strangers to their victims prior to the harassment commencing. This may explain part of the relative increase in rates of violence. The message, however, is clear. Juvenile stalkers are at least as likely, if not more likely, to assault their victims. Poor impulse control is probably a greater factor, together with generally higher rates of

interpersonal aggression in this age group, from a variety of causes. The impact of the stalking on the psychological and social functioning of the victims closely parallels that reported by adult victims (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Kamphuis & Emmelkamp, 2001; Purcell et al., 2005b). Given that most victims were themselves juveniles at a critical phase in their psychological, social and educational development, the long-term effects may well be even more serious than in most adult victims. These data argue not just for taking juvenile stalking seriously but for establishing appropriate support and treatment services for these young and often vulnerable victims. In contrast to adult stalkers, a greater proportion of perpetrators in the study by Purcell et al. were female. Females were mainly encountered in the contexts of bullying and retaliation, and typically focused their harassment on a victim of the same gender. Like their adult counterparts, female juvenile stalkers did not differ from males in the persistence or intrusiveness of their unwanted conduct, or in their propensity for threats (Purcell et al., 2001; Meloy & Boyd, 2003). These adolescents’ familiarity with technology was notable, with cyberstalking and the dissemination of malicious gossip via SMS and instant messaging preferred methods of harassment. One 14-year-old female perpetrator commenced a vicious campaign of harassment against a (former) friend and schoolmate whom she accused of ‘ruining’ her birthday party (on the basis that the victim’s outfit upstaged the birthday girl’s). This vengeful youth used SMS to spread malicious rumours about the victim’s sexual history, and recruited her friends to stalk by proxy, including harassing the victim at sporting events and on shopping trips. The volume of nuisance and hang-up calls made to the victim’s home by this group was sufficient for the family to change telephone number. Interestingly, McCann (2001) argues that the involvement of a group in harassment disqualifies the behaviour as stalking, as only individuals stalk. In his view, group harassment can only be construed as bullying. We disagree, as this ignores the tactic of stalking by proxy (see Chapter 14), which was utilised by a significant proportion of juveniles, especially females, in the sample studied by Purcell et al. On the basis of these

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data, we would posit that stalking by proxy is a more common feature of juvenile than of adult stalking, although this comparison remains to be empirically tested. The motivations that gave rise to the stalking in the juvenile sample also differed somewhat from those seen in adults, with fewer cases precipitated by a desire to initiate a relationship or date with the victim, and a greater proportion driven by a desire for retaliation and antisocial behaviours such as bullying and tormenting neighbours. The nature of the sample suggests that caution should be exercised in dismissing or downplaying the importance of the intrusions of overly persistent and insistent would-be suitors, however. The data pertain to individuals who were sufficiently persistent and disturbing to bring their victims or a parent to take the relatively costly and difficult course of a civil action. It is probable that so-called relationship intrusions, even in their more extreme manifestations, are regarded even by their targets as within the range of the normal, if unpleasant, experiences of adolescence. Even though such intrusions involve stalking behaviour, because they tend to be normalised they are likely to evoke irritation rather than fear and be less likely to produce major parental concern. Contrary to McCann’s (2001) observations, rejected stalking following a relationship breakdown was relatively common in the study by Purcell et al. (in submission), being the primary motivation in a fifth of cases. It was not possible to establish from the file review how many of these relationships were sexually intimate, although by juvenile standards a significant proportion were long-term (e.g. 12 months or more). Like their adult counterparts, rejected juveniles drew on a repertoire of stalking behaviours, extending beyond the intrusive approaches of McCann’s sample to include inundating their victims with phone calls and text messages, spreading malicious rumours and property damage. Threats and physical violence were unfortunately common in this group, which also mirrors the behaviour of adult rejected stalkers (Chapter 6). The school environment was the typical backdrop for rejected forms of stalking – if not the venue where the stalker and victim met, then the forum where much of the offending occurred. It is the combination of the

high degree of intrusiveness and the physical setting of the stalking that increases the risk to the victim of the rejected juvenile stalker. Many young victims reported feeling vulnerable to ongoing intrusions and assaults both at school and in transit to and from school. Unfortunately many of the schools who have consulted us have been ill-prepared to manage such stalking, claiming that they are powerless to act if the perpetrator is not one of their own students, or limited in the sanctions they can apply to their own student perpetrators without compromising their educational entitlements (e.g. suspension or expulsion). Ironically, however, one young victim who refused to attend school for fear of encountering her stalker was threatened with expulsion for repeated truancy. Like the adult victims of rejected stalkers, young victims are all too often blamed for ‘bringing the situation on themselves’ or their ‘poor choices’ in selecting a romantic partner. Several young female victims known to us have been accused of shameless promiscuity simply for having a romantic partner at their age. That juveniles engage in rejected stalking should not be unexpected. Dating violence is one of the most common forms of violence reported by young people (Carolyn Olson et al., 2004), certainly in the United States, where estimates during adolescence range from 9% to 65%, depending on the definitions and method of ascertainment (Kreiter et al., 1999; Howard et al., 2003). Juveniles may be physically capable of sexual intimacy, but developmental variations in emotional and cognitive maturity likely contribute to problems managing experiences such as rejection. Unfortunately, rejected stalking in juveniles is too often trivialised as merely the ‘throes of a broken heart’. The seriousness of such behaviour was dramatically highlighted by the widely reported attempted murder of a female secondary-school student by her teenage ex-boyfriend at a school in the Australian state of New South Wales. Unwilling to accept the termination of their relationship, the youth took a crossbow to school (this was prior to the publication of Lionel Shriver’s award-winning book We Need to Talk About Kevin) and fired a volley of arrows at his ex-girlfriend, seriously wounding her and impaling her friend, who was seated beside her. At trial, the youth was acquitted

Issues in managing juvenile stalkers and victims

of attempted murder as the judge ‘was satisfied the boy was telling the truth when he said he wanted to maim but not kill his former girlfriend’ (italics added; ‘Crossbow attack injures two schoolgirls’, Sydney Morning Herald, April 2003). The presence of a subgroup of 16 predatory stalkers in the Purcell et al. study was concerning. Most of these young men, and even the female, would on the basis of the complaints have been charged in an adult court with serious sexual offences. These were not over-eager or insensitive approaches but persistent patterns of following and approaches culminating in sexual assaults or intimidation aimed at obtaining sexual contact. How appropriate a children’s court and a civil order is in such cases must be questioned.

Issues in managing juvenile stalkers and victims At this preliminary stage of knowledge about juvenile stalkers, we have found the clinical management strategies recommended for treating adult offenders to be applicable to this younger population. This is consistent with the approach of Scott and colleagues (2007), who also recommend using available assessment and treatment strategies for adults as at least a guide for responding to juvenile offenders. These authors suggest a comprehensive psychiatric assessment of juvenile stalkers that takes into account emotional and cognitive development (especially as this may pertain to any legal requirements that the perpetrator be able to form intent to harm the victim), as well as peer influences and familial functioning. They also advocate a general risk assessment for escalation to threats and physical violence against the victim. We would additionally urge a careful assessment of the risk of selfharm by the perpetrator, given the high rates of suicidal ideation and attempts among juvenile offenders (e.g. Rohde et al., 1997) Just as adult stalkers often have multiple deficits that benefit from intervention (e.g. impaired social skills, substance misuse), so do adolescent stalkers, many of whom have long histories of behavioural problems both at home and at school. It is also not uncommon

to encounter significant deficits in verbal skills in these young offenders, which in itself may be a risk factor for stalking at this age. Interestingly, marked deficits in verbal intelligence have also been observed in an adult sample of stalkers (MacKenzie, 2006). In these cases a more behavioural focus to treatment is recommended, as opposed to cognitive strategies. Irrespective of age, stalkers with emerging or manifest psychiatric distress (psychosis, depression, anxiety) require assertive clinical treatment, and any contributing deficits in social skills and competence should be appropriately augmented. Evidence for the effectiveness of legal remedies for the management of juvenile stalkers (e.g. restraining orders, incarceration) has also yet to be examined (although we are in the final stages of one such study). In the absence of data, anecdotally, we have found restraining orders to be provocative in many rejected juvenile stalkers (as they are in adults), particularly those who evince an intense sense of entitlement to the victim and a righteousness in their pursuit. This is echoed by Scott et al. (2007), who similarly caution against the blanket use of restraining orders for juvenile stalkers. Custodial sentences (or ‘intensive residential programmes’) in this group of young stalkers are rare in our experience, and in the absence of any clinical management they are unlikely to significantly alter the individual’s offending behaviours or the beliefs and attitudes which sustain them. As indicated in the introduction to this chapter, intervening early with this group of juvenile perpetrators in our opinion offers a ‘best bet’ of stemming further stalking (of the same or different victims) and potential escalation to other forms of interpersonal violence. In our jurisdiction, most juveniles who are convicted of stalking activities are, at best, likely to be ordered to undergo an anger management programme, which rarely addresses the (often sub-threshold) psychological or characterological difficulties that give rise to their stalking, and usually fails to specifically modify the offender’s stalking behaviours. Only the most obvious cases of psychiatric illness are referred for courtmandated clinical assessment, and only a fraction of those are subsequently directed to adolescent forensic mental health services for treatment. Given that some

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juvenile stalkers are likely to be at risk of future offending, it is astonishing that early intervention in criminal justice is not a priority (while concurrently, ever more private prisons are under construction). Given the lack of compelling evidence for the effectiveness of primary crime prevention programmes in young people (e.g. Mytton et al., 2006), at this stage it may be better to focus on identifying relevant risk factors for stalking, which will at least allow for the development of indicated prevention programmes that target those at heightened risk for stalking, based on their attitudes or environmental experiences.

Managing juvenile victims This focus of this chapter has been on the stalking of children and adolescents by their peers, but young victims may also be subject to stalking by adults. Often the picture conjured here is of the sexually predatory stranger. While this certainly can be the case, like all forms of predatory stalking, thankfully this constitutes a tiny minority. A far more common context in our experience involves children and adolescents as secondary victims in adult stalking cases, usually that of a rejected parent pursuing their ex-spouse. The child (or children) in such cases are often deliberately used as pawns by the stalker/parent in an ongoing campaign against the former partner, not surprisingly with devastating effects on their emotional wellbeing. In one memorable case, a mother consulted our clinic for advice on how to end her ex-husband’s five-year reign of harassment. The final straw came when her eightyear-old son returned home from a weekend access visit with his father with his previously healthy mane of hair completely shaved (in accordance with his – and his mother’s – Maori heritage, the boy had been growing his hair for many years). Having tried to manage her ex-husband’s intrusions through appropriate means, the woman snapped and punched him – unfortunately in full view of her neighbours. While the shaving of the child’s head against his will was not deemed offensive, the mother’s actions were deemed criminal and she was charged with assault. In another case known to us, a father subjected his estranged wife and 17-yearold daughter to a two-year campaign of threats,

assaults, property damage, defamation and custody battles, culminating in an arson attack on the family home. His victims almost perished in the fire that completely destroyed their home, forcing them to seek temporary refuge in an elderly relative’s cramped lodgings. As a consequence of the distress and disruption generated by her father’s behaviour, the straightA student abandoned her studies and relinquished her long-standing ambition to become a doctor. Engaging and treating a child or adolescent victim of stalking can present unique challenges compared to clinically managing an adult. Most notably, the commonly recommended strategy of ‘no contact or confrontation’ with the stalker (see Chapter 21) is a concept that many young victims struggle with, and an approach many simply refuse to adopt. For young victims (not unlike their adult counterparts), this strategy is often interpreted as ‘letting the stalker get away with it’. Whereas most adults ultimately recognise that continued contact with the perpetrator is reinforcing, this realisation can unfortunately elude young victims. The long-term pay-offs of the ‘no contact’ approach (e.g. a reduction if not a cessation in the stalking) are all too frequently forsaken by the young victim for the short-term satisfaction of retaliation. In assisting or managing young stalking victims, it is critical to keep an open mind about behaviours that may appear problematic – such as a failure to follow advice – and to adopt a cooperative approach to avoid falling into a therapeutic dynamic of being authoritarian, controlling, or worse, punitive with the client. One teenage girl subjected to stalking by her ex-boyfriend had been referred to our service by her school counsellor, who found her too ‘difficult’, given her emotional outbursts, obstinacy and repeated acts of self-harm. Over several interviews, the girl recounted a traumatic history of childhood sexual abuse by a male relative. She also disclosed that her ex-boyfriend had sexually assaulted her, after she confided her previous childhood abuse to him. The girl refused to follow the school counsellor’s well-intentioned advice to ignore her exboyfriend’s harassing comments and provocations, as now that she was ‘old enough to defend herself’, she intended to. When we provided the client with alternative, but from her perspective more empowering,

Conclusions

ignoring strategies (e.g. staring back or gesturing rather than verbally responding to the perpetrator’s remarks), she was gradually able to better manage her own behaviour, which in turned improved her relationships with those around her. While this approach took longer to effect any change in the stalker’s behaviour (as the client often succumbed to the urge to fight back), it enabled the young victim to retain a sense of control and ultimately to remain engaged in treatment. The extent to which parents should be involved in the management of a juvenile stalking victim will necessarily vary according to the victim’s age, living arrangements, level of autonomy and closeness within the family, as well as any cultural expectations (e.g. McCutcheon et al., 2007). While involving parents (or other carers) is clearly desirable, it is important that the victim’s wishes are recognised and individual circumstances taken into account. It is important to establish early in the process of assessment or treatment what the young person prefers and whether there are any specific reasons for not wanting family involvement, such as blame or stigma. It may be useful to describe the potential pitfalls of not involving parents, such as lack of support or inadvertent undermining of the

safety management plan, to assist young victims who are otherwise reluctant to involve others.

Conclusions Stalking behaviours in young perpetrators have traditionally been trivialised as harmless or inoffensive. There is no doubt that a continuum of behaviour exists, from the valid but misguided attempts to rekindle a terminated relationship, and the inept efforts to establish a relationship, through to the damaging forms of protracted pursuit that constitute stalking. The reluctance of many researchers and clinicians to acknowledge stalking in juveniles is arguably driven – not unreasonably – by a desire to avoid pathologising normal and commonplace behaviours in young people, such as the phenomenon of the crush. Nonetheless, as the results of the comprehensive study by Purcell et al. demonstrate, juveniles do engage in stalking, the consequences of which can be devastating to many young victims. There is no reason why the seriousness that is afforded to adult forms of stalking should not apply to juveniles.

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11 Female stalkers

Clinical and epidemiological studies indicate that the overwhelming majority of stalkers are male, accounting in most studies for over 75% of all stalkers. Nonetheless, females also engage in stalking behaviour. Little attention has been given to females who persistently intrude on and stalk others, with the exception of the literature on erotomania (see Chapter 8) and the popular media, where stories of female stalkers pursuing the famous abound (for example the stalking of David Letterman, Brad Pitt and Germaine Greer). Indeed, we are aware of studies which have intentionally excluded female stalkers from their analyses (usually on the basis of low frequency), which unfortunately only reinforces the perception that stalking by females is rare or an aberration. As this chapter attests, it is neither. Greater awareness of, and attention to, female stalkers is necessary for several reasons. In our experience, victims of female stalkers often confront apathy, indifference or scepticism from law enforcement and other helping agencies. In the case of male victims, their complaints are often trivialised or dismissed, with some even being told that they should be ‘flattered’ by the attention. Alternatively, sniggers that ‘hell hath no fury like a women scorned’ are not uncommon. For female victims, their sexual orientation (as well as the perpetrator’s) is frequently questioned, with authorities often inappropriately assuming a homosexual relationship or motive. Victimisation studies indicate that females are seldom prosecuted for stalking offences, with criminal justice intervention most likely to proceed in those cases involving a male accused of stalking a woman (Hall, 1998; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). Put simply, stalking by females is yet to be afforded the

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same degree of seriousness attached to males who harass. This is despite empirical evidence that females are no less intrusive or persistent in their stalking, and that they are no less a threat to their victims. Stalking by females is not uncommon. Communitybased studies of stalking victimisation indicate that women are identified as perpetrators in approximately 11% (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Purcell et al., 2002) to 19% of cases (Budd & Mattinson, 2000). In forensic mental health settings the reported rates are even higher, often reflecting the greater incidence of erotomania observed in these populations. For example, Zona and colleagues (1993) reported that 32% (24 of 74) of the individuals investigated by a specialist antistalking unit in Los Angeles were female, six of whom were classed as erotomanic. Harmon et al. (1995) similarly found that 33% of stalkers (16/48) referred to a forensic psychiatry clinic in New York were female, though this rate dropped to 22% (38/175) in a subsequent and larger sample (Harmon et al., 1998). Other studies have reported rates of between 17% (Meloy et al., 2000) and 22% (Palarea et al., 1999). Compelling illustrative examples of female harassers are also to be found in first-hand victim accounts such as those by psychiatrists Doreen Orion (1997) and academic Robert Fine (1997). Despite the observation that a significant minority of stalkers are female, only two studies have considered the contexts in which this behaviour emerges among women, and the extent to which females differ from their male counterparts in relation to stalking characteristics or propensity for violence. The first study of female stalkers, by Purcell and colleagues (2001),

Female stalkers

examined perpetrators consecutively referred over an eight-year period (1993–2000) to a community forensic mental health clinic in Melbourne, Australia, which specialises in the assessment and management of stalkers. The cases were assessed by one or more of the authors. Referrals came predominantly via the courts, community correctional services, police and medical practitioners. In most instances collaborative information was also available, usually in the form of victim statements, police summaries of the offences, official criminal records and psychological or psychiatric reports. Stalking was defined in this study as persistent (at least four weeks’ duration) and repeated (10 or more) attempts to intrude on or communicate with a victim who perceived the behaviour as unwelcome and fear-provoking. Of the 190 stalkers referred to the clinic during the study period, 40 (21%) were female. The female stalkers were aged between 15 and 60 years (median 35 years) and the majority were single (62%), with a further 32% separated or divorced. Only three were in stable intimate relationships when they commenced their stalking activities. Most of these women were in paid employment, although 32% were unemployed. The female stalkers did not differ from males in terms of age, marital status or employment status, but the females were significantly less likely to have histories of criminal offending (18% vs. 47%), including violent offences (13% vs. 36%). Psychiatric diagnoses were assigned for 38 of the 40 female stalkers. Eighteen meet the diagnostic criteria for a major mental disorder, including 12 who manifested delusional disorders (eight erotomanic type, two jealous type, two morbid infatuations categorised as delusional disorder, unspecified type), two with schizophrenia (one of whom presented with erotomanic delusions), two with bipolar disorder and two with a major depressive disorder. The primary diagnosis in the other 20 cases was personality disorder, predominantly dependent, borderline and narcissistic types. The overall diagnostic profile of the female stalkers did not differ significantly from that of males (in terms of the proportion meeting the criteria for a personality disorder, delusional disorder, schizophrenia or other Axis I disorder), but the rate of psychosis at the time of

the offence was comparatively higher among the females (47% vs. 35%), and comorbid substance abuse significantly lower (8% vs. 31%). A striking difference between the female and male stalkers was in the choice of victim. Female stalkers overwhelmingly targeted individuals previously known to them (95%), with only two cases pursuing a stranger. A substantial proportion (40%) fixed their attention on those with whom they had professional contact, particularly psychiatrists, psychologists and general practitioners, though teachers and legal professionals were targeted on occasion. While the choice of victim among females was heavily skewed towards professionals, male stalkers pursued a broader range of victims, with similar proportions harassing prior intimate partners (28%), acquaintances (22%), strangers (21%) and professionals (17%). Stalking by males was also more strongly gendered, with 91% pursuing victims of the opposite sex, in contrast to females, who were equally likely to target men and women. Few cases of samegender stalking among females, however, involved homosexual motivations. Only two women in this series reported their sexual orientation as being homosexual, and in both instances their stalking was directed against prior sexual intimates. While it is often assumed that same-gender stalking cases involve homosexuality in either the perpetrator or the victim, or in both, these data suggest that this may be the exception rather than the rule. Closely related to the choice of victim among female stalkers was the motivation for the stalking. For almost half (46%), the stalking emerged from a desire to forge an intimate relationship with the victim, who was in most instances (14 out of 18) a professional contact. The nature of the hoped-for intimacy, though usually romantic or sexual, also encompassed such aspirations as establishing a friendship or even a mothering alliance with the victim. Given the rates of serious mental illness among female stalkers in this sample, it is perhaps not surprising that mental health clinicians were so frequently targeted, their professional concern and empathy easily reconstructed as romantic interest. A quarter of female stalkers displayed ‘rejected’ patterns of pursuit following the breakdown of a sexually intimate relationship, although one woman commenced

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stalking her psychiatrist after the abrupt cessation of long-term psychotherapy (see case example below). In 18% the stalking was motivated by resentment, and the remaining 10% were regarded as incompetent suitors who persistently utilised crude and intrusive means of establishing dates with would-be partners. There were no cases among the female subjects of sexually motivated predatory stalking, though 7% of males demonstrated this stalking pattern. CASE EXAMPLE Gaby was convicted of stalking a male psychiatrist (Dr S) whom she had attended for weekly psychotherapy for six years. She was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment, and upon release she was referred to our clinic. She was assessed by a male psychiatrist, who elicited a history of attachments to, and pursuit of, various male therapists Gaby had consulted over the years. Her subsequent referral to a female clinician for treatment was easy to justify. Gaby was 23 years old and studying at university when she commenced treatment with Dr S. Her treatment was ‘recommended’ and paid for by her father, with whom she had a troubled relationship. According to Gaby, her frequent sessions with Dr S focused on her difficulties establishing relationships (she had never had a romantic encounter or sexual relationship), maintaining relationships with her relatives and few friends, and pharmacotherapy for a depressive disorder. She later indicated that Dr S had openly labelled her difficulties ‘borderline personality disorder’, but claimed not to be perturbed by this diagnosis. Indeed, she stated that the therapeutic relationship was relatively unremarkable until Dr S abruptly terminated treatment on the basis of her ‘non-compliance’ with medication. While Dr S’s victim statement contained little information regarding the nature or quality of the therapeutic dynamic, he similarly indicated that Gaby’s treatment was ended on the basis of non-compliance, without referral elsewhere or transfer of care. Initially Gaby was angered by Dr S’s sudden ‘withdrawal’, but this was quickly replaced by a desire to resurrect the relationship via the resumption of treatment. Her calls to his office for further appointments were unsuccessful, and she was warned of police intervention when the calls became abusive. Gaby desisted from her intrusions for several weeks, but described being ‘overwhelmed’ by not being able to talk to Dr S or ascertain why he had ‘abandoned’ her. She obtained Dr S’s home phone number, and after speaking to his alarmed wife was served with a restraining order. Gaby described feeling aggrieved that her intention to merely speak to Dr S had been construed as

‘threatening’. She drove to Dr S’s home and, by her own account, attempted to ‘scream the house down’. She was arrested, charged and subsequently convicted of stalking. When seen at the clinic, Gaby had little remorse for her actions, remaining bewildered and angered by Dr S’s ‘rejection’. She indicated that she continued to make hang-up calls to his house to ‘punish’ him and was unconcerned with the consequences of her reoffending. Gaby was a bright but morbidly obese young woman, who was unemployed (and unlikely to be able to pursue a career in her chosen field given her criminal conviction) and living in her cousin’s converted garage. She claimed that further imprisonment was not a deterrent, given her circumstances, and indeed a cost she was willing to pay to ‘teach Dr S a lesson’. While Gaby was ultimately able to refrain from contacting Dr S during treatment, she was acutely aware of her currency as a ‘stalker’, especially of mental health professionals, and sought to test boundaries with her female clinician (including waiting in the clinic car park for six hours to gauge which car the therapist drove). Her behaviours and intentions in this regard were openly addressed in treatment, which gradually diminished their appeal. After eight months of treatment, Gaby no longer harboured a desire to contact or punish her victim and had made some progress with joining a local social club and gaining part-time employment. Her profound dependency and fear of rejection required more intense treatment, however, before her risk of future stalking could be reduced.

Purcell and colleagues (2001) found that, contrary to popular assumptions, female stalkers were no less likely than their male counterparts to threaten their victims or attack their person or property. Males were more likely, however, to progress from explicit threats to physical assaults on the victim. The methods of harassment were largely equivalent between the groups, the exceptions being telephone calls, which were favoured by all but one female stalker, and following, which was preferred by males. The tenacity male and female stalkers applied to their quest was also strikingly similar, with no differences apparent in the duration of stalking activities. Thus, while the contexts for stalking vary between men and women, the intrusiveness of the conduct and its potential for harm do not. In the only other study to date of female stalkers, Meloy and Boyd (2003) assembled a sample of cases from mental health and law enforcement researchers in the USA, Australia and Canada. Researchers who

Female stalkers

agreed to provide cases were asked to complete a survey measuring 140 items (perpetrator, offence and victim characteristics). A total of 82 cases were assembled from the records of 20 mental health professionals, eight law enforcement professionals, one private security professional, three stalking victims, and the relative of a stalking victim (10 of the cases were supplied from our own files, and hence overlap with the study discussed above). Meloy and Boyd did not conduct comparisons with male stalkers, instead focusing on the demographic, clinical and stalking characteristics of the sample. Consistent with Purcell and colleagues’ (2001) earlier findings, the average age of the female stalkers in Meloy and Boyd’s (2003) sample was 37 years (range 18–58). The majority were single (58%) or divorced (21%), with 13% married. Most had completed secondary school and 38% had a university degree. The sexual orientation of these stalkers was described as predominantly heterosexual, with 8% reportedly lesbian and 12% bisexual. As the sources of data for Meloy and Boyd’s study varied widely, only 46 subjects could be reliably evaluated for psychiatric illness. Psychosis was the most common Axis I condition (n = 14), predominantly delusional disorder and schizophrenia, with the most common Axis II diagnoses borderline (n = 10), narcissistic (n = 3) and dependent personality disorders (n = 3). Half of the females (49%) who were evaluated at the time they engaged in stalking were judged to be psychotic. In contrast to the findings of Purcell et al. (2001), a third of the sample reportedly used substances at the time of the stalking activities, usually alcohol or cannabis. Over a third of the sample (37%) had an adult criminal history prior to stalking, and 16% had a prior arrest for stalking other individuals. The majority of female stalkers in Meloy and Boyd’s (2003) sample pursued a male victim (67%), a rate somewhat higher than that observed by Purcell et al. (53%). Over half stalked a prior acquaintance, a quarter an ex-intimate partner and 21% a stranger. No further information was provided regarding the nature of the ‘prior acquaintance’ category, therefore hampering comparisons with the sample examined by Purcell et al., particularly in terms of the propensity for female stalkers to pursue helping professionals. Common

emotions that reportedly underpinned the stalking were obsession (63%), rage at abandonment (44%), loneliness (37%), dependency (37%), jealousy (33%), retaliation (24%), attempted reconciliation (18%) and social incompetence (12%). Meloy and Boyd concurred with the earlier suggestion of Purcell and colleagues (2001) that the desire to establish an intimate relationship is the primary motivation in female stalkers, whereas males are more likely to attempt to maintain a relationship with a former partner. In the majority of cases in Meloy and Boyd’s sample, the stalking lasted for a year or more (68%). Telephone calls were again the preferred method of harassment, followed by sending letters and unwanted material and loitering in the victim’s vicinity. The rate of threats was somewhat higher than that reported by Purcell and colleagues (65% vs. 50%), with 19 women making homicidal threats against their victims. Physical violence and property damage were reported in 25% of cases, with threats preceding violence in a third of cases. The authors noted that the violent acts perpetrated by female stalkers were rarely serious, with less than 10% of assaulted victims requiring medical attention for injuries sustained. While neither study of female stalkers examined the impact of the pursuit on the victims, there is no reason to presume that being stalked by a female would be any less devastating than being stalked by a man, as the following example illustrates. CASE EXAMPLE Beth, a successful public relations executive, attended our clinic for advice and counselling in the context of being subjected to a three-year campaign of stalking by Lisa, the ex-wife of her fiance´ Harry. Lisa and Harry had been married for 12 years and had two children (aged eight and six). The relationship had failed to satisfy either party for many years and Lisa did not object when Harry indicated his intention to separate and move out. Their divorce some 18 months later was amicable, with custody of the children being shared. Harry relocated to a nearby city for employment and Lisa continued to pursue her own career and many local community interests. All that changed two years later when Lisa learned that her ex-husband was seeing Beth. Unprepared for this news, Lisa convinced herself that Beth had been ‘on the scene all along’ and had ‘stolen’ her husband. She obtained Beth’s work address

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and began bombarding her with abusive telephone calls. Faxes containing malicious sexual accusations were sent to Beth’s workplace in the hope they would further embarrass and compromise her work situation. Lisa also made abusive phone calls to Beth’s home, although she was careful never to be ‘caught in the act’ by her ex-husband, who often spent time there. This behaviour continued for a year, until Beth and Harry became engaged and moved in together. This prompted an escalation in Lisa’s harassment. She relocate to the same city and began following Beth and abusing her at shops and cafe´s (never in the presence of Harry). She managed to steal Beth’s diary, which enabled her to materialise at numerous work and social functions attended by the distressed victim. All these behaviours Lisa justified to Beth as being ‘payback for ruining my life’. Beth eventually sought police help and was advised to obtain a restraining order, which led to a temporary cessation of the abuse. Incensed at this new check on her behaviour, Lisa rented a house in a neighbouring suburb to Beth’s. She began using the same shopping centre, hairdresser and bank, although she was careful not to directly approach or speak to Beth. The police failed to enforce these breaches of the restraining order, considering them innocuous in light of Lisa’s new residential address. On one occasion, when Beth saw Lisa following her down a street, she attempted to take a photograph as evidence of the pursuit. This enraged Lisa, who screamed, ‘I’m going to be in your face till the day you die’ and then drove her car at the terrified woman before swerving and fleeing the scene. As witnesses observed the attempted attack, Lisa was charged and subsequently convicted of stalking, for which she was heavily fined. When Beth consulted our clinic, she was at her wits’ end. She indicated that while Lisa had curbed her overt harassment, she continued to follow her and keep her under surveillance in public places. The stress of the stalking had taken a significant toll on her relationship with Harry, but she refused to follow the advice

of virtually all her family and friends to end the engagement, asserting that Harry was ‘as much a victim’ as she was, and that at any rate ending the relationship was unlikely to stop Lisa’s campaign. Her work performance also suffered, with Beth avoiding public functions for fear of encountering Lisa (and provoking increasingly regular panic attacks). She felt depressed, powerless and hopeless about the situation, was unable to sleep and had gained almost 10 kilograms. While counselling attenuated her anxiety attacks, after uncharacteristically venting her intense anger about her fiance´’s lack of support, she cancelled further sessions on the basis that she just needed to learn how to live with it.

Conclusions Women are overwhelmingly the primary victims of stalking, but it is critical to recognise that in a significant minority of stalking cases females may also perpetrate the crime. Studies of female stalkers are limited, but suggest that these women are typically socially isolated individuals with high rates of mental illness and personality disturbance. Though driven in some instances by resentment or rejection, the majority are motivated by a desire to establish a loving intimacy with the victim, who is not infrequently a professional helper. Psychiatric interventions aimed at managing the underlying mental illness are crucial to the resolution of stalking behaviours in this group, but, as will be seen in Chapter 17, therapists providing such treatment should be cognisant of the vulnerability sometimes inherent in this role.

12 Same-gender stalking

Introduction Stalking is usually portrayed as a heterosexual activity, with men pursuing women and (less commonly) women pursuing men. Instances of same-gender stalking were thought to constitute a rarity, with earlier estimates of less than 1% of all cases (Meloy, 1996), but increasingly studies of stalking behaviours undertaken in larger, less selective populations have found same-gender stalking to be more prevalent. There is relatively little by way of published data on same-gender stalking. Earlier suspicions of higher rates of physical violence in female–female ex-intimate stalking have not received empirical support (Travis et al., 1996). In our clinical experience those stalked by individuals of the same gender are exposed to greater scepticism and indifference by law enforcement and other helping agencies. This is not entirely a homophobic response, as it appears independent of the victim’s sexual orientation, although the victim’s stated sexual proclivities are not infrequently called into question. This chapter reviews cases of same-gender stalking reported in the literature over the past sixty years, including our own clinical study of 29 same-gender stalkers and their victims. Much of the earlier information pertaining to same-gender stalking was confined to media reports of same-sex celebrity stalkers and the literature on erotomania. Case reports of same-gender erotomanic attachments have tended to employ misleading terminology such as homoerotomania or homosexual erotomania, implying homosexuality in the sufferer, victim or both, when in actual fact this cannot be assumed in all cases. It has been noted that

erotomanic attachments are more often characterised by the idealised and spiritual than the carnal aspects of love (see Chapter 8). Consistent with this, the reported cases of same-gender erotomania have not necessarily demonstrated a homosexual orientation, nor indeed have their victims. For the purposes of the following review, the terms homoerotomania and homosexual erotomania are applied in accordance with their usage by the author(s) concerned, but they should not be regarded as indicative of homosexual orientation, either in the stalker or in their victim.

Media reports of same-gender stalking Case reports of same-gender stalking which are from time to time reported in the popular press predominantly involve celebrities and other public figures. These have included John Lennon’s assassin, Mark Chapman, and Jonathan Norman, who stalked film director Steven Spielberg with the stated intention of raping him (see Chapter 9). Author Stephen King was reputedly the victim of two male stalkers, and actress Sharon Gless was pursued for years by a woman claiming to be in love with her; it was reported that this woman had planned to ambush and sexually assault Gless, then commit suicide (Mair, 1995). A 46-year-old woman who pursued Australian singer Judith Durham for more than five years was sentenced to a suspended jail term for stalking. The court heard that the woman, a long-standing devotee of the former lead singer of The Seekers, sent faxes and letters, made hundreds of phone calls to Durham and her family, friends and

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lawyer, followed her to concerts, publicly maligned her and initiated spurious legal action against her. Three weeks before her stalking conviction, the woman repeatedly delivered doormats to the singer’s home, 42 in total, because she felt the celebrity had treated her like one (The Age, 20 August 1998, p. 3). Australian rugby star Ian Roberts was pursued by a man who sent the former player up to 10 sexually explicit and threatening letters a day (The Sunday Age, 22 August 1999, p. 3). More recent examples of same-gender celebrity stalking include a woman who stalked actress Catherine Zeta-Jones and threatened to ‘slice [Zeta-Jones] up like meat on a bone and feed her to the dogs’ because she was in love with the actress’s husband, Michael Douglas (The Sunday Mail, 27 February 2005, p. 39). Actor Mel Gibson recently testified against a man who repeatedly approached the actor-director at his home and chapel, asking to pray with the celebrity (The Courier-Mail, 5 March 2005, p. 17). A French woman who bore some resemblance to Pamela Anderson broke into the actress’s home, stole her trademark red Baywatch swimming costume and was eventually discovered by the housekeeper asleep in a spare bedroom. Before her deportation the woman told the press, ‘To me, [Anderson] is the perfect woman. I adore her; she’s my goddess … But please do not think I am a lesbian. Truthfully, I never wanted to have sex with her. I just wanted Pam to be my friend’ (New Weekly, 2 April 2001, pp. 12–13). There are occasional media reports of same-gender stalking targeting non-celebrities. One such case involved Australian Trevor Cullen, a former journalism lecturer who was stalked over the internet by a Los Angeles man. The cyberstalker had worked with his victim several years earlier before he was sacked for aggressive and inappropriate behaviour. He then embarked on a campaign of cyber-harassment against his former employer and staff members, turning his attentions to Cullen when the lecturer complained to the webmaster. The stalker then set up a webpage in Dr Cullen’s name, ‘confessing’ that he was a paedophile and had committed academic fraud, and obtained the email addresses of Dr Cullen’s colleagues to harangue them for supporting the lecturer’s alleged misconduct (The Sunday Mail, 3 August 2003, p. 40).

A number of personal and fictional accounts of same-gender erotomania have appeared in literary circles in recent years, notably psychiatrist Dr Doreen Orion’s account of being stalked by a female ex-patient in I Know You Really Love Me (1997) and Ian McEwan’s novel Enduring Love (1997), which portrays the plight of a man pursued by a male stranger who has an erotomanic attachment to him.

Case reports of same-gender erotomania In 1937, Fretet (cited in Signer, 1989) described an alcoholic male with homoerotomania. Later, homoerotomania in a woman with bipolar disorder was described by Bastie (1973). The latter was not exclusively homoerotomanic, with a history of hetero-erotomanic episodes also. Peterson and Davis (1985) reported the case of a male with schizophrenia and a chronic, fixed erotomanic delusion involving a man whose life he threatened when rebuffed. Signer and Isbister (1987) referred to a possible homoerotomanic episode in a schizoaffective woman, and homoerotomania in a woman with bipolar disorder and left temporal lobe epilepsy was reported by Signer and Cummings (1987). Dunlop (1988) presented two cases of homosexual erotomania, in both cases women who ‘developed passionate feelings, similar to those of a schoolgirl “crush”’ towards, in one, a female hospital administrator and the other a woman who worked in a store. The former, who had a past diagnosis of schizophrenia, repeatedly approached her victim and bombarded her with presents, including groceries, money (up to £2000) and even a set of garden furniture. In the second case, a 22-year-old woman spent much of her time purchasing goods in her victim’s sales department. When she was banned from the shop she bribed strangers to go there and make further purchases from the victim on her behalf (see Chapter 14). She kept a diary which detailed her extensive and ambivalent feelings for her victim. Dunlop considered these cases to be very similar in other respects to those of heterosexual erotomania, satisfying generally accepted criteria for primary or pure erotomania. She noted also a lack of any sexual element to their amorous attraction, although Case 2

Case reports of same-gender erotomania

described her feelings as ‘more than platonic’. The author suggested ‘it is probable that these women could not have coped with more intimate contact’, preferring instead this form of distant romantic worship. Urbach and others (1992) wrote of homosexual erotomania in an adolescent, the teenager becoming aggressive towards her love objects when spurned. Meloy (1992, 2006) described a possible case of homoerotomania, an ‘aggressive, hysterical, and paranoid’ homosexual male who pursued, somewhat unusually, a schizophrenic man. He regularly approached his victim, haranguing him and insisting that his victim was in love with him. He would not agree to assessment or treatment. Boast and Coid (1994) reported the first known case of ‘male homosexual erotomania’ in association with HIV infection. This 30-year-old homosexual man with AIDS-related complex became enamoured of his volunteer support worker, who was himself homosexual. The patient modified his personal appearance to resemble the love object and made sexual advances towards him. The volunteer withdrew from the case but the patient continued to pursue him, angrily alleging that the worker had encouraged his affections. He sent bizarre letters with claims such as their spirits had met and spoken to each other, and referred also to the writer’s communications with Satan. He then left threatening messages on the victim’s answering machine and ignited paraffin in the victim’s letterbox, later telling him he wanted to watch him ‘die in agony’. He was subsequently arrested and placed on probation with a mandate to receive psychiatric treatment. His psychotic disorder was thought to be reactive to specific stressors rather than a consequence of AIDS-related involvement of the central nervous system. Michael et al. (1996) also reported a case of homoerotomania in association with organic pathology (polycystic ovary disease), although the aetiological significance of this condition in the development of the patient’s delusional disorder was similarly uncertain. This woman was bisexual and developed first ‘homosexual’ erotomania, in which the love object was her married female lecturer, and later ‘heterosexual’ erotomania involving a famous film producer. While the patient wrote letters,

sent gifts and made sexual advances towards the former, there were no manifest stalking behaviours associated with the male victim, communications being limited to telepathic messages. Cases of same-gender erotomania and associated stalking behaviours have been noted in several larger series of erotomanic patients. Lovett Doust and Christie (1978) presented eight cases of erotomania, two of whom focused their attentions on individuals of the same sex. One female developed homosexual erotomania following cortisone injections for eczema: After the cortisone the patient became convinced that her older woman friend had developed a secret passion for her and felt it terribly urgent to be close to her. She felt that her friend was exercising a compelling power over her and was sending messages of support and encouragement during her sickness. The patient stated she did not know how these messages were conveyed, but was certain that she was receiving them and that they were being relayed by her friend. The patient was very much moved by these communications and felt that she had to respond. She would fondle her telephone at home in case it might suddenly ring, and thus ensure that if the caller were really her friend she would be there to answer it. But it never did ring. Instead the patient would place calls to Vancouver in an attempt to reciprocate what she firmly believed was her friend’s kind thoughts about her and respond to the love she knew her friend was feeling for her. Often the patient’s calls were fruitless because no one was home when the telephone rang. On the occasions when her friend answered the telephone she would reassure the patient, telling her to rest and not to worry and certainly not to keep calling her as it seemed only to increase the patient’s anxiety and must surely be very expensive. The patient was convinced that her friend’s husband was inadequate. She felt that he was not only a poor provider, but also that he suffered from ill health and demanded far more of his wife’s time and affection than she could spare. (p. 101)

The authors considered this case to be homosexual, while they regarded their second case, a male who manifested homoerotomanic delusions during bouts of heavy drinking, as ambisexual. Gillett and others (1990), in their postal survey of 34 consultant psychiatrists in the north-east of England which requested access to the case notes of patients demonstrating ‘a delusional conviction of being in amorous communication with another person’, found 11 patients,

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all female, who exhibited erotomanic phenomenology. One of these exhibited ‘homosexual’ erotomania, typically rationalising the paradoxical responses of the woman she believed to be in love with her. This case received a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, but the erotomania was noted to be refractory to treatment of the underlying mood disorder and was ‘unrelated to the course of the bipolar illness’. In dispelling the earlier notion of erotomania as a disorder of ‘chaste heterosexual women’, Giannini and others (1991) presented five cases of erotomania in sexually experienced women. One of these was employed as a private secretary to her victim, a wealthy married woman eight years her senior. Since there were no manifest stalking behaviours, the secretary’s family dissuading her from forwarding sexually explicit letters to her employer, the older woman was apparently never aware of this homoerotomanic attachment during the two years of her secretary’s employ.

Studies of stalkers and stalking victims Harmon and colleagues (1995), in their archival study of 48 people charged with harassment and menacing, uncovered two cases of same-gender ‘obsession’. One of these, a 38-year-old woman with erotomania, targeted several women including her social worker and drug counsellor. In their analysis of 74 case files of obsessive harassment, Zona et al. (1993) described three of seven in the erotomanic group (one male and two females) as either homosexual or bisexual, while three of 35 in their ‘simple obsessional’ category were described as homosexual, and two of 32 in their ‘love obsessional’ group were noted to be homosexual or bisexual. Several more recent stalking victim studies have commented on same-gender stalking. Fremouw and others (1997), in their large college-based survey of stalking, found that 30% of females and 17% of males had been stalked. In what they termed ‘a few’ cases, subjects claimed to have been stalked by a person of the same gender. Tjaden and Thoennes (1998) found that 2% of male respondents in their study reported stalking victimisation during their lifetime, 60% of whom had

been pursued by males. Men tended to be stalked by strangers and acquaintances, who in 90% of cases were male. The researchers noted: ‘There is some evidence that homosexual men are at greater risk of being stalked than heterosexual men: Stalking prevalence was significantly greater among men who had ever lived with a man as a couple compared with men who had never lived with a man as a couple.’ The lifetime prevalence of stalking victimisation in women in this study was 8%, with 6% of these reporting their stalker’s gender as female. While it is noted that the majority of females were stalked by some form of intimate partner, the prior relationship in female–female stalking cases was not reported. Hall’s (1998) study of 145 self-defined stalking victims also found high rates of males stalking males. While females were with few exceptions stalked by the opposite gender, male victim respondents were almost as likely to be stalked by a male (female stalker in 52%, male in 44%). In those cases in which stalker and victim had a prior intimate relationship (57% of the total sample), males overwhelmingly targeted females (99%) while 1% of their victims were males. Thirtythree per cent of female post-intimate relationship stalkers (n = 3) stalked females. In all, 5% of the intimate relationships which culminated in stalking were homosexual. Same-sex stalking was more pronounced when victim and stalker had been prior acquaintances: of the 35% of cases in this category, 56% of males were stalked by males. Of the nine cases in which the stalker was previously unknown to the victim, same-gender stalking occurred in three (38%) of females and in the single case of a male stalked by a stranger. In our Australian survey of 100 stalking victims (Pathé and Mullen, 1997), 14% of the cohort experienced same-gender victimisation, 10 of the 83 female victims (12%) being stalked by females, and four of the 17 male victims (24%) being stalked by males. These victim studies did not address the extent to which unwanted contact was sexually motivated. The British Crime Survey (Budd & Mattinson, 2000) reported that as many as 57% of male respondents had been stalked by a man. Purcell and colleagues (2002) noted that 24% of the victims in their sample reported same-gender stalking and that 48% of their female

A comparison study of same- and opposite-gender stalkers

stalker sample pursued women (Purcell et al., 2001; see Chapter 11). In Kamphuis and Emmelkamp’s (2001) study, 5% of female victims identified their stalker’s gender as female, while in the Mannheim study (Dressing et al., 2005) male respondents were as likely to report harassment by another male (44%) as by a female.

A comparison study of same- and opposite-gender stalkers Between 1993 and 1998 we collected data on 29 samegender stalkers and compared them to 134 oppositegender stalkers referred to our forensic mental health clinic over the same period (Pathé et al., 2000). As this is, to our knowledge, the largest study to date of samegender stalkers, the findings will be considered here in detail. It should be noted, however, that this was a non-random, selective, clinic-based population, and its relatively small sample size limits the extent to which we can extrapolate the clinical findings. In the same-gender group there were 18 female and 11 male stalkers. The ages of these same-gender stalkers ranged from 15 to 53 years, with a median of 38 years. Only two were in a stable intimate relationship, both of them male, while five were separated or divorced and 22 were single. Sexual orientation as reported by 28 of the stalkers was predominantly heterosexual in 71% (16 female, 4 male), homosexual in five cases (2 female, 3 male) and a further three, all men, declared themselves to be bisexual. Same-gender stalkers were employed in 15 cases (54%), three of whom held professional positions, 11 (39%) were unemployed, one was a student and another a housewife. This demographic profile was similar in most respects to the larger group of opposite-gender stalkers with the exception of gender, same-gender stalkers being significantly more likely to be female. The duration of pursuit by the same-gender cohort ranged from two months to 20 years, with a median of 12 months. Again, this was not significantly different to the duration of stalking reported by their opposite-sex counterparts. The most frequently employed means of contact with the object of their attentions was

telephone calls (90%). One woman called her female victim more than 20 times a night, pleading for a relationship and variously claiming to be her daughter, her long-lost relative, and even that they were eligible to marry as she had had a sex change operation and was now a man! The victim changed to an unlisted phone number on several occasions but was repeatedly traced by the stalker and the barrage of calls resumed. Unwanted approaches were made by 22 subjects (76%), one woman driving for many hours to sit on the front porch of her victim’s home in the country. Letters were sent or hand-delivered by 19 subjects (66%). A female who pursued her one-time physician took photographs of her as she conducted her hospital rounds. Subsequently she smothered the photos with lipstick kisses and then posted them to the hapless physician. Another wrote long letters demanding a relationship with her doctor, unconcerned that her victim was married with children because this meant she was ‘more [sexually] experienced’. Following and surveillance occurred in 17 cases (59%). One infatuated woman purchased a year’s gymnasium membership in order to attend aerobics classes and position herself behind her startled victim, compelling the latter to forfeit her membership. The stalker predictably followed suit. In another case the smitten stalker followed the children of her (married) love object as they walked home from school. An analysis of intrusion methods found, however, that same-gender stalkers were significantly less likely to follow and approach their victim compared with their opposite sex counterparts. Unsolicited material was sent by 16 (55%) of this cohort. One female in pursuit of her office manager, a heterosexual single woman, sent the object of her attentions a selection of CDs by lesbian singer k d. lang. Gifts from same-gender stalkers were otherwise no more or less creative than those sent by oppositesex stalkers, with flowers, chocolates and magazines predominating. Two cases, one female and the other male, sent pornographic magazines catering to the gay community. Only three stalkers confined themselves to a single method of harassment (following, in the case of one male, and repeated telephone calls by two females),

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with 19 employing two to five methods and seven using practically every form of intrusion at their disposal. This pattern was not significantly different to that observed in opposite-sex stalkers. Threats were made by 21 same-gender stalkers. In 19 cases (9 female, 10 male) the stalker threatened his or her victim, and 12 stalkers (6 female, 6 male) threatened third parties. Four female and six male samegender stalkers made threats to both. An unemployed woman sent letters to her female counsellor of two years containing threats to shoot her, and enclosed pictures of gravestones and a crucifix. Another who stalked her general practitioner made threats to ‘eliminate’ the victim’s husband, and one female stalker threatened to kill her victim, whom she (wrongly) believed was hindering her chances of marrying the man she admired from afar. One gay man felt powerless to control his ex-partner’s harassment since the stalker had threatened to inform both the victim’s elderly mother and his employer of his homosexuality. The victim found the prospect of being ‘outed’ more distressing than actual physical violence. Damage to property and pets was inflicted by 45% of same-gender stalkers (6 female, 7 male). A spurned student kicked in her female teacher’s classroom door, screaming obscenities, while an enraged and intoxicated woman drove her car over her ex-lover’s dog. Occasionally, property damage serves other purposes: one woman tampered with her work colleague’s computer so that she would be called upon to fix it, in the process brushing her breasts against the victim. Attacks were made by 11 (38%) of the same-gender stalkers on their victim, six by females and five by males. These were similar in nature to those reported by an earlier sample of stalking victims (Pathé & Mullen, 1997). One woman was punched, kicked and grasped around the neck by her young female student, enraged at being rejected. Sexual assaults occurred in two cases, one a gay man who touched his straight victim on the genitals, the other a woman who forcibly kissed her teacher-victim. In addition, the office worker described previously appeared to have frotteuristic as well as seductive motives when she brushed her breasts against her love interest while providing ‘technical assistance’. Of nine (31%) who had a known offending

history, five had committed previous violent offences against other individuals. Same-gender stalkers in this series were no more likely than their opposite-gender counterparts to have a prior history of offending, including violent offending. Furthermore, there were no significant differences in the incidence of property damage, violence (including sexual assaults), and threats between same- and opposite-gender stalkers. The relationship between the victim and his or her same-gender stalker in this study was a professional one in eight instances (28%), the victim being their treating doctor in five of these (3 female, 2 male) while three were teachers stalked by their students. A further eight stalkers and their victims had been casual acquaintances, while in seven instances (24%) contact between stalker and victim was initiated in the workplace. In four cases (14%: 2 female, 2 male) stalker and victim were ex-partners, while in two cases (7%) there was no prior relationship. Compared to oppositesex stalkers, significantly fewer instances of samegender stalking arose in the context of prior intimate relationships, while significantly more originated in the workplace. Major psychiatric diagnoses were assigned to 11 same-gender stalkers. Five manifested delusional disorders, one of erotomanic type, one persecutory and a further three with morbid jealousy (classified as delusional disorder, unspecified.) Schizophrenia was diagnosed in three cases, one of whom had erotomanic delusions, and another subject had a bipolar disorder. In addition, there were two cases of morbid infatuation (categorised as delusional disorder, unspecified, as discussed in Chapter 8). There was a primary diagnosis of personality disorder in 15 cases, most frequently borderline and dependent (4 each), but also narcissistic (2) and antisocial (1), with four unspecified. A history of substance abuse was present in five (17%). This is not a significant departure from the diagnostic profile of the opposite-gender sample, apart from an absence of paraphilias amongst the same-gender group. We have earlier proposed five categories of stalker on the basis of motivation and the context in which the stalking emerges (see Chapter 5.) There were group differences in stalking motive and typology between same- and opposite-gender stalkers, with

A comparison study of same- and opposite-gender stalkers

more instances of resentful stalking among samegender stalkers and fewer involving rejection. It was not possible in one instance of same-gender stalking to establish the motive with confidence. Eight samegender subjects (29%: 6 female, 2 male) were categorised as intimacy seekers. CASE EXAMPLE Sandra, a 37-year-old clerk, was referred to our clinic by her (male) psychiatrist. This followed her eight-year pursuit of a married female doctor three years her senior. Sandra said she first met the object of her long-standing attentions as a psychiatric inpatient under her care. At that time, the victim was a psychiatry trainee who subsequently abandoned this career path as a consequence of her distressing harassment. Sandra described an overwhelming sense of peace and tranquillity upon seeing the doctor for the first time, and there gradually emerged a conviction that they were destined to be a couple. She developed a strong desire for both a sexual and an emotional relationship with this woman, but given the doctor’s gender this was a source of some conflict. Sandra did acknowledge past homosexual relationships but had come to regard herself, at the time of meeting the doctor, as heterosexual. She resolved this by convincing herself that either she or her love object would undergo gender reassignment so that they could live as man and wife. Further, she became increasingly convinced that she and the doctor had been united as a couple in a previous life in which she was the male and her victim the female. Sandra wrote the doctor a number of letters, which were generally of a romantic nature. She made phone calls to her home and workplace, up to 10 times a night, again addressing the doctor as her lover and relaying her plans for their perfect future together. She also attempted to approach the doctor on several occasions at her home. At the time Sandra’s infatuation began her life was in turmoil. She had had no sustained intimate relationships for many years and had become increasingly socially isolated, as well as experiencing serious financial difficulties. She had had a number of previous psychiatric admissions commencing five years prior to meeting the doctor, with a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. There was no clear history of psychotic phenomena, nor any sustained disorder of mood. She had no past history of stalking people of either sex. She was not prescribed any regular medication. At interview, Sandra had a rather androgynous appearance. She was an intelligent and articulate woman who spoke candidly about her situation. She conceded that she had not

actually elicited evidence that the doctor reciprocated her feelings, though she felt that on several occasions she had sensed a warm and loving concern emanating from the doctor, albeit at a non-verbal level. It was noted that there were rather bizarre notions associated with Sandra’s persisting infatuation, in particular those of the sex change and their union in a previous life, but these were not difficult to understand, since they enabled her to avoid the homosexual implications of her infatuation as well as to establish a claim to the legitimacy of her pursuit. It was noted also that Sandra did not advance any evidence from the doctor’s behaviours or statements in support of her belief that a relationship would be possible. There were none of the paradoxical interpretations common to erotomania, no conviction that her feelings were reciprocated and no subsidiary ideas either about persecution or about organised schemes to keep her from her beloved. Sandra did not manifest any disturbance of mood, and denied hallucinatory experiences. Sandra’s stalking and harassment of her former doctor was driven by her pathological infatuation with this woman. There was insufficient evidence that this infatuation arose out of a psychotic process, but it appeared almost certainly on a substrate of borderline personality disorder and disturbed sexuality common to such characterological disturbance. Accordingly, antipsychotic medication was avoided in the first instance and she was offered supportive psychotherapy incorporating gentle confrontation with suggestions that the ‘relationship’ had now run its course and should be abandoned. Sandra gradually came to accept this, with the help of legal sanctions in the form of a protective injunction granted to the victim, who had thus far resisted such action on the advice of colleagues. Ongoing psychotherapy continues to focus on sexual identity and relationship issues.

In seven (25%: 3 female, 4 male) the stalking arose in response to rejection, in three cases following the breakdown of an intimate relationship. CASE EXAMPLE Trudi, a 30-year-old unemployed hairdresser, was referred to our clinic for assessment as a condition of a community-based correctional order. She had been convicted of stalking her former female lover. She said the two had met at a lesbian wedding and her friend, a 34-year-old journalist, had soon moved into Trudi’s flat. Theirs was a brief and tumultuous relationship. Trudi had a long-standing alcohol problem which had cost her several good jobs. She could not fund her drinking problem with social security payments alone and admitted to stealing money from her girlfriend. She became very jealous of

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her partner’s relative affluence, interesting friends and supportive family, and began to accuse her of infidelity, which her girlfriend repeatedly denied. Trudi nonetheless checked on her girlfriend’s movements, frequently waiting up for her in a drunken state and berating her when she arrived home. On one such occasion, Trudi lunged at her partner (who had been working late to meet an urgent deadline), bruising her arm and tearing her jacket. A week later, Trudi’s girlfriend terminated the relationship and moved out. Trudi, both furious and panic-stricken, pursued her to her new residence and pleaded for her return. In addition to these approaches to her ex-girlfriend’s home and workplace at any time of day or night, she repeatedly phoned her victim, wrote long, rambling letters and left soft toys with red satin hearts on her doorstep. Her communications generally vacillated between pleas for forgiveness and reconciliation, savage accusations of infidelity and threats of suicide or retaliation. During one drunken phone call she informed her horrified victim, ‘I have a gun at my head and I’m going to blow my brains out, so you can hear what you’ve done.’ Trudi began to appear at her ex-lover’s home while she was away, scrawling obscene messages over her fence and upending rubbish bins. On one occasion she smashed a front window and bled over the lounge suite while awaiting her victim’s return. Her terrified ex-lover immediately called the police, but Trudi left before they arrived and no arrest was made. The victim was advised to apply for a restraining order, which Trudi breached on multiple occasions before being convicted of stalking. Her ex-girlfriend had long before left her job and moved to a secret address. Trudi gave a history of troubled interpersonal relationships, having stalked two previous female partners, and restraining orders still operated in both cases. Morbid jealousy had plagued these relationships also, the second characterised by violence towards her partner and a serious motor-vehicle accident caused by an argument and Trudi grabbing the steering wheel from her partner’s hands. Trudi had seen various therapists since early adolescence. She described an abusive and chaotic upbringing, subsequent drug and alcohol abuse, promiscuity and a failed marriage in her teens, coming out at age 22. She had a prior criminal record which included prostitution, theft, drug possession, alcohol-related traffic offences and assault. Her erratic moods and periodic aggression had alienated most of her small social network and her family. Trudi was placed on a good-behaviour bond and agreed to undergo drug and alcohol counselling. She also sees a psychotherapist, but her attendance is erratic. She has, however, refrained from any further contact with her former lover.

For a further four individuals in the rejected category, same-gender stalking was precipitated by the breakdown of a friendship. CASE EXAMPLE Karen was a 28-year-old high-school teacher who was referred by her local general practitioner. She was, when first seen, facing disciplinary proceedings arising from the persistent pursuit of the headmistress of a school at which she had been employed. The victim was in her fifties, married with three teenage children. The stalker, despite having been transferred to a different school, despite the headmistress obtaining a court order prohibiting further contact, and despite suspension from her job, was continuing to phone and to turn up at the victim’s home. Enquiries revealed that Karen had been involved in similar stalking behaviour some five years earlier when she had persistently pursued a female lecturer at university who, like the current victim, was a married woman in her fifties with a number of children. This harassment had only ended when the lecturer took an extended overseas sabbatical and Karen was persuaded to pursue her studies in another State. Karen, the only child of two professionals in senior positions in their respective callings, had a childhood as materially privileged as it was emotionally deprived. She was reared by a series of nannies and placed in a boarding school at the age of ten. Her relationship with her mother was always distant at best, and that with her father markedly ambivalent. She had, as an adolescent, successfully striven to fulfil his immodest ambitions for her attaining high academic distinction at school and the early years of university. Her first attempt, at the age of 20, to assert her independence over the choice of university course led to a rift which never entirely healed. She saw herself henceforward as a failure in her parents’ eyes, a perception to which she responded by alternately seeking either to restore what she supposed to have been her parents’ approval or to fulfil their worst prognostications about her inability and lack of direction. Karen had, in early adolescence, a close relationship with a school friend whose family she visited regularly and of whose mother she became inordinately fond. For several years she spent considerably more time in the company of this friend and her family than she did with her own parents. When she was 16 the friend and her family moved overseas, and other than letters in the first year they had no further contact. She found solace in a confiding relationship with an elderly teacher at the school. This woman continued to provide support to Karen for the first year after she left the school but then the teacher retired

Victims of same-gender stalking

and moved to a warmer climate, reducing their contact to the exchange of letters. Karen remained isolated in her late adolescence and early adult life, partly because of her commitment to the pursuit of high academic marks and partly because of her manner, which she acknowledged her peers experienced as aloof. When she moved into teaching her isolation if anything increased. She shared few interests with her colleagues and, having considerable independent wealth to augment her teaching salary, she was conspicuously better off. As a teacher she was apparently talented but unresponsive to, or frankly dismissive of, the institutional and collegial demands which surrounded the classroom activities. Karen had had a series of heterosexual relationships but none had involved much, if any, emotional intimacy. Her chosen partners were her inferiors intellectually, socially and financially and were all either married or in another long-term relationship. She vehemently denied any homoerotic fantasies, let alone activities. Karen’s first episode of stalking occurred in the context of what began as a mentoring relationship but which the lecturer, with presumably the best of intentions, had allowed to develop to the point that Karen was visiting and even staying overnight with the lecturer and her family. This lady, like the headmistress at a later stage, seemed to have recognised Karen’s need for support and human contact. What they failed to see until too late was the insatiable nature of Karen’s appetite for care and concern. In both instances, when Karen’s demands began to become too intrusive, the women attempted to extricate themselves from their involvement with her. Karen responded by escalating her demands and by becoming intermittently angry at the perceived rejection. She wrote to, phoned and repeatedly approached the lecturer over a period of some six months and, when first seen, had been similarly stalking the headmistress for nearly a year. Karen claimed she was simply looking for a friend. She needed no interpretation to be offered for her to acknowledge that in part she sought both the mother she felt she had never had and a return of the idealised mother figure of her early adolescence. She sought from these women acceptance and admiration, but her own insecurities fostered both escalating demands and a constant testing of their affection.

Eight same-gender stalkers (29%: 4 female, 4 male) were categorised as resentful. One of these was a local doctor who pursued a hospital administrator and made multiple death threats. He had lost his job through budget cuts, for which he held the administrator

responsible. Another resentful stalker plagued the rooms of a cosmetic surgeon and threatened him with a knife because he was convinced his rhinoplasty rendered him effeminate and that the specialist’s staff ridiculed him and spread rumours that he was homosexual. Five individuals (18%: 4 female, 1 male), whose stalking behaviours arose in the context of social incompetence, could be categorised as incompetent suitors. Loneliness was the driving force for these individuals, two of whom had recently migrated to Australia (one from the Middle East and the other from the Philippines.) One sought the companionship of her English teacher, with escalating demands on her victim’s time. Though all five in this category strove for emotional intimacy, none harboured any desire for a sexual relationship.

Victims of same-gender stalking Anecdotal reports suggest that victims of same-gender stalking experience greater difficulties in their efforts to procure assistance than those stalked by the opposite gender. The victim’s sexuality may be questioned, although only a minority of same-gender pursuits in our series arose in the context of former sexual intimacy, and most victims were heterosexual in orientation and practice. Homosexual overtones, regardless of the victim’s sexuality, have been used to discredit the victim, one heterosexual journalist being asked by a cynical police officer whether he was a sex worker when he and his stalker met. Many victims of same-gender stalking allege that their complaints were not taken seriously. This is especially the case for female–female stalking, one woman commenting, ‘As she [the stalker] was smaller and younger than me, they [the police] found my fear of her difficult to understand.’ Given that male victims frequently report fears for their safety when confronted with the unwanted and relentless pursuit of a female (Pathé & Mullen, 1997) there is no reason to assume that female victims should feel any less intimidated. Information was available on 22 of the 29 victims of same-gender stalkers described above. All but three of

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these were heterosexual, most of them in stable relationships at the onset of the stalking. The overwhelming majority believed that their experience had had a deleterious impact on their psychological, interpersonal and/or vocational functioning. Seventeen (77%) had modified their usual activities as a direct consequence of being harassed. In 13 (59%) social outings were curtailed to avoid the stalker, some victims driven by shame or humiliation to withdraw from family and friends. In 45%, work productivity diminished in response to the harassment, and in four cases the victim ceased work altogether. One victim – a wellbuilt male who feared he might eventually be raped – drastically reduced his work hours to avoid travelling home in the dark. Six (27%) felt compelled to change their careers, and five (23%) moved residence in a bid to evade their stalker. Additional security was sought by 64% of samegender victims, mostly in the form of unlisted telephone numbers, upgraded locks and the redirection of mail to private post office box addresses. One female teacher was provided with a security guard escort at work and another female victim, despite her stalker’s diminutive stature, enrolled in self-defence classes. Anxiety symptoms and feelings of powerlessness were acknowledged by 73% of the cohort, which was in accordance with larger, predominantly opposite-sex stalking victim samples (Pathé & Mullen, 1997). The woman who had been subject to, amongst other things, her female co-worker’s sexual advances at her computer workstation was bitterly disappointed at the sluggish and ineffectual response of her employers, and she ultimately moved to another department because ‘it was easier to move me than [the stalker]’. The combination of her harassment, the unsympathetic response of her work superiors and the disruption and lost opportunities consequent upon the job change led to the development of a range of anxiety symptoms and psychosomatic disorders. She reported marked insomnia with recurrent nightmares of falling into an open grave and nobody coming to her rescue. She suffered panic attacks whenever she travelled alone and experienced constant tension, with headaches, muscle pain and bruxism requiring dental attention. She also developed a prominent startle reflex, knocking over a cup of

water in our first interview in response to the abrupt activation of the air-conditioner. This unfortunate woman had gained a substantial amount of weight through binge eating and her inability to continue her gym classes, despite early-morning vomiting most workdays. During this time she was also diagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome. Same-gender victims sought help from similar sources to stalking victims in general, most commonly turning to friends and family (73%), then police (60%), lawyers (45%) and the medical profession (41%). All but one of these, who openly acknowledged her prior intimate relationship with her stalker, reported dissatisfaction with the help that was received outside the family. There was a tendency for authorities to assume a sexual motive in such cases, despite increasing recognition of the heterogeneity of motives in opposite-gender stalking cases. In some instances these assumptions appeared to justify desultory and sceptical responses to the complainant’s plight. A female health professional who was subjected to a female client’s repeated phone calls, letters, gifts and visitations felt ridiculed when her (also female) manager confidently assumed responsibility for the case (‘because she thought her superior handling and heterosexuality made her immune to such attentions’) – though neither the victim nor her stalker were homosexual, nor was the motive a sexual one. Ironically, the client transferred her attentions to her new case manager.

Conclusions Until quite recently, our knowledge of same-gender stalkers was limited to a series of case reports of socalled ‘homoerotomania’, most, but not all, involving stalking the love object, as well as to media reports of celebrities targeted by same-gender fans. The phenomenon was thought to be uncommon, but there is now evidence from larger victim surveys to counter this assumption. These studies also raise questions about the nature and course of same-gender stalking, and about the relevance of present interventions. In our own series of 163 stalkers, same-gender cases were by no means rare, comprising 18% of the sample.

Conclusions

Analysis of our clinical sample of 29 same-gender stalkers suggests that they are notable more for their similarities to than for their differences from oppositegender stalking cases on a number of measures, including their impact on the lives of their victims. There were several significant departures, however. Despite the relative frequency of males reporting victimisation by male stalkers in large community studies (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Budd & Mattinson, 2000), same-gender stalkers were in this study more likely than oppositegender stalkers to be female. Furthermore, the prior relationship between stalker and victim was less often an intimate one and was more likely to have originated in the workplace. Same-gender stalkers were less inclined to harass their victims by following and unwanted approaches, which may be a reflection of the greater accessibility of their victims within the work setting. Same-gender stalkers were more commonly motivated by resentment than their opposite-gender counterparts, and the absence of sexual predators among the same-gender group was consistent with the absence of diagnosed paraphilias in these subjects. The psychopathological profile did not otherwise demonstrate any significant departure from the larger population of opposite-gender stalkers. There was no support in our clinical study for a greater propensity for violence or threats in samegender stalking. In our earlier study of predominantly

opposite-gender stalkers (Mullen et al., 1999; see Chapter 5), it was noted that those stalkers in the rejected and resentful categories were more likely to damage property and make threats. The rejected and predatory groups were the most likely to commit assaults. The relatively small number of rejected samegender stalkers and the absence of those with predatory motives would tend to predict a lower occurrence of assaultiveness in this study. The association of resentful stalkers with threats and property damage would, however, predict that non-assaultive violence would occur no less frequently in this same-gender subgroup. The results of this clinical study indicate that samegender stalking victims are at no less risk of violence, lifestyle disruptions and psychological trauma than their opposite-gender counterparts. Despite the similarities, stalking victims who share their harasser’s gender can expect to encounter sceptical and unsympathetic ‘helping’ agencies and employers. Such responses are in part fuelled by ignorance and homophobic attitudes, irrespective of the sexual orientation of victim or stalker. The victims of same-gender stalkers in this study suffered equivalent levels of distress and disruption as those targeted by opposite gender stalkers. Clearly, it is important that stalking cases be judged not on the respective genders of stalker and victim but on the nature of the harassment itself and its impact on the lives concerned.

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13 Cyberstalking

Introduction Cyberstalking has attracted considerable media attention, ranking alongside celebrity stalking as the most widely reported and discussed form of stalking. The attention probably reflects a combination of being a novel activity and employing technologies which though fascinating to many are seen as alien and threatening by some. The public interest in cyberstalking is not yet matched by systematic studies of this new phenomenon. Even the definitions employed of cyberstalking range widely. The activities incorporated into cyberstalking vary from expert to expert. As befits an online phenomenon, much of the information about it is to be found on the internet rather than in the more traditional sources of statistical and academic knowledge.

Definition Bocij and colleagues have written extensively and persuasively on the topic, arguing that cyberstalking should be regarded as a unique form of deviant behaviour involving a wide range of activities including repeated unwelcome emails, attempting to sexually entrap children and, in the business world, disrupting the commercial activities of competitors (Bocij & McFarlane, 2002, 2003). Incorporated in Bocij’s (2004) definition is a wide range of online crime: A group of behaviors in which an individual, group of individuals or organization uses information and communication technologies to harass another individual, group of individuals or organization. Such behaviors may include, but are not

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limited to the transmission of threats, and false accusations, identity theft, damage to data or equipment, computer monitoring, solicitation of minors for sexual purposes, and any form of aggression. (p. 14. emphasis added)

Barak (2005) characterises cyberstalking as one form of sexual coercion. This potentially opens up a wide range of activities which sexually denigrate, exploit or suborn those who are either the object of the computer user’s attentions or the computer user themselves. These definitions and the area of criminal activity described go beyond the limits of the concept of stalking which informs this book. This is not a criticism. The term cyberstalking now has a life of its own. It may have begun as closely linked to ‘offline’ stalking, but it may well expand to incorporate activities far removed from imposing unwanted communications and contacts on individuals in a manner which creates fear or distress. The laws currently emerging to criminalise cyberstalking appear to be directed at criminalising a wide range of unwanted online and telephone behaviours, even where such laws are in the form of amendments to existing anti-stalking statutes (Hitchcock, 2003). Given that today’s stalking studies took their original form from legal definitions, tomorrow’s stalking studies may well include an entirely separate area devoted to wideranging aspects of online harassment and criminality. Alternatively, given the importance of such activities as fabricating computer viruses, hacking into data stores, and advocating or supporting criminal activities (particularly related to the current fears of terrorism and the panic about child molesters), it is possible that laws against cyberstalking will soon outgrow both the term stalking and legislation employing that term.

Cyberstalking behaviours

An alternative approach to cyberstalking is to regard it not as a different category of criminal activity but as a method by which stalkers pursue their harassing activities (Meloy, 1998b; Ogilvie, 2000; Sheridan & Grant, 2007). This approach does not reduce cyberstalking to a ‘client status’, where offline stalking has to occur for online activities to be legitimated. We see many cases in which stalking activities are confined to texting or emailing the target, as well as those in which online activities are one aspect of a wider range of stalking behaviour. We would regard both as examples of cyberstalking. In an important study, Sheridan and Grant (2007) systematically examined the difference between cyberstalking and other forms of stalking. They concluded that the picture which emerged was one of similarity between online and offline stalking rather than of difference. They suggested that cyberstalking was usually one more invasive technique for pursuing stalking rather than a distinct type of activity. Their study sample was recruited from self-identified victims of stalking, which may have contributed to the stalking being the dominant variable rather than the cyber aspects.

Cyberstalking behaviours Cyberstalking as the online stalking of individuals can involve a range of activities which use the internet and SMS facilities: 1. Sending repeated unwanted messages. Clinically this is one of the commonest activities encountered among stalkers sent for assessment or treatment from the courts. Emails can become a formidable tool in the hands of a stalker. The email lends itself both to ease of repeated communication and, should precautions be taken, to reducing the chances of forensically identifying the sender. Flooding, or, to use the technical term, ‘flaming’ the victims with so many messages it disrupts their ability to use their own email facility tends to be confined to the more computer-literate stalkers, often of a resentful type. Repeated, lengthy and often abusive communications from rejected ex-partners are not uncommon. The attachment of photos from happier times

seems to be a technique employed by some rejected stalkers to appeal to their ex-partners. Incompetent suitors, when rejected, may, if they have the skills, either attempt to pursue their hopes through increasingly sophisticated messages or resort to the gross and obscene in response to rejection. Email is the ideal medium for making threats or indulging in abuse, given the relative ease of concealing the sender’s identity using such strategies as internet cafés, other people’s internet accounts or anonymous remailers (see Chapter 22). The use of SMS or mobile-phone internet facilities to send unwanted messages is particularly favoured by stalkers of both the rejected and incompetent types. This is usually an ill-advised method of harassment, given the ease with which the source of the message can be traced and the frequency with which such messages are sent impulsively from the stalker’s own phone. In the jurisdiction in which we work there seems a remarkable enthusiasm for prosecuting casual acquaintances or strangers who send two or three messages seeking a date or making sexually inappropriate comments, which in some cases amounts to little more than an inept compliment. The original complaint may reflect, in part, the social aspects of sending and receiving such messages, which may include sharing and comparing the content of such communications with friends, or in part the centrality of the mobile phone to some young people’s sense of both self and security. The frequency of subsequent prosecution, one suspects, reflects merely the ease of catching the culprit and preparing the evidence. 2. Ordering goods and services on the victim’s behalf is a well-recognised association to stalking. This can take on a new dimension with the internet, where copious orders, enquiries, and bids can be placed on the victim’s behalf, potentially entangling them in multiple difficulties. 3. Publicising private information of a potentially damaging or embarrassing nature. This in our experience usually involves rejected stalkers taking revenge by circulating emails, placing notices, or even establishing websites containing personal details about their ex-partners. One posted pictures of himself and his

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4.

5.

6.

7.

ex-partner in sexual congress on a range of internet sites, another broadcast details of minor financial delinquencies, and another details of an abortion when the victim was in her teens. Spreading false information. A wide range of misinformation can be spread via the internet, with the authors of these calumnies able, should they wish and have the necessary skills, to hide their identity. A CEO of a large organisation with a high public profile was targeted by a resentful stalker. This stalker began by sending anonymous threats via emails but then progressed to sending detailed accusations related to dishonesty to a wide range of journalists and media outlets. These accusations were accompanied by what purported to be copies of documentary evidence. The documents were constructed using materials extracted from the victim’s waste bin which were then modified and falsified. The victim had both good networks and a high reputation for probity, which probably provided protection from the damage that could have been caused by these false accusations gaining credence. Gathering information about a victim online can cover a wide range of material, from addresses and employment histories to financial details. There are even online services for tracing people which can be utilised by stalkers whose victim has eluded them. Identity theft may go beyond simply pretending to be the victim for the purposes of ordering goods or initiating contacts, as far as an attempt to assume not just the name but the actual property and attributes of the victim. Encouraging others to harass the victim. This can cover a wide range of activities. The most frequent method involves placing communications purporting to be from the victim on websites and noticeboards which are likely to provoke unwanted responses or attentions. The most egregious example involved a rejected stalker who posted personal advertisements in his ex-partner’s name, giving her address and suggesting she enjoyed being raped and solicited such attentions. Apparently six men actually came to her house in response to these provocations (Miller & Maharaj, 1999). Another related method of harassment is posing as the victim online and

antagonising others, particularly those to whom the victim may be beholden. One of our patients kept receiving angry and abusive emails accusing her of being a racist after an ex-partner posted a series of anti-immigration rants in her name on the internet, giving her email address. 8. Launching attacks against the victim’s computer and its databases. This is the equivalent of the more familiar property damage by stalkers. One of our patients, who had rejected the inept advances of a computer ‘nerd’ from the same university, suffered a series of attacks on her computer. The most serious was a deliberate virus attack which crashed her computer and led to the loss of some of the recent work on her thesis.

Laws Cyberstalking laws vary, but are all directed at limiting the misuse of electronically transmitted material (Glancy et al., 2007). They usually require a defined target – it is not enough to transmit remonstrances or insults at the world in general, though targeting a specific religious or ethnic group can be an offence. All existing laws require evidence of an intention to harm through intimidation, injury or harassment. Often included in so-called cyberstalking laws are prohibitions on obscenity or otherwise advancing criminal activities such as child molestation (Merschman, 2001; Ryan et al., 2005).

Prevalence The problem with estimates of the prevalence of cyberstalking is that they depend on how many types of unwanted online activities are included. US estimates of close to half a million victims a year were admitted to be speculative (Reno, 1999). Estimates based on cyberstalking as an addendum to ‘offline’ stalking produce far more modest prevalence figures than those that regard cyberstalking as a broad category of online harassment. Bocij (2004) quotes figures from a number of internet safety organisations. Cyber Angels deal with approximately 500 cases of cyberstalking each day,

Victims of cyberstalking

and Working to Halt Online Abuse (WHOA) reports dealing with 100 cases a week. Web Police, which is an international governmental organisation, reports receiving over 3000 complaints a day, of which 3–4% involve stalking, with a similar percentage for other forms of harassing or threatening online communications. A large survey of female undergraduates noted that 25% of stalking victims reported email use by their stalker to harass them (Fisher et al., 2000). Studies of college students also found email being commonly used by stalkers to harass (Leblanc et al., 2001; Alexy et al., 2005). Glancy and colleagues (2007) note that cyberstalking is believed to be exponentially increasing as a phenomenon, proportional to the rise in the use of the internet and electronic media. Spitzberg and Hoobler (2002) administered a questionnaire exploring cyberstalking to 232 undergraduates. Receiving sexually harassing messages was reported by 18%, and 3% had been threatened online. Finkelhor and colleagues (2000), in a study of the harassment of children online, reported that 6% had received in the previous year communications which caused them to feel ‘threatened, worried or embarrassed’. Working to Halt Online Abuse reports that the majority of those claiming to be victims of online harassment are female (61.5%), though this might reflect the nature of the organisation (WHOA, 2003). In contrast, Alexy et al. (2005) found that among student victims males predominated. When our service was set up over a decade ago the use of computers to stalk was a rarity largely confined to university staff and students. Today it is a relatively common behaviour seeming to be pursued by every man and his blackberry.

The cyberstalker The very nature of the act of sending electronic messages or using online process to communicate with or harass someone may promote the behaviour. Cyberstalking is pursued in private, with anonymity an option. It is an activity stripped of social context and lacking traditional rules and taboos which might inhibit the more destructive manifestations. Potentially it also objectifies any prospective victim to an even greater

extent than offline stalking. The victim may all too easily join the ranks of the electronic simulacra of the user’s world of computer games. It is tempting to speculate on a connection between an enthusiasm for computer games and a propensity to Cyberstalking – tempting but futile, given the popularity of such pursuits. Relative anonymity has been argued both to lower the threshold for indulging in stalking behaviours and to widen the net of potential victims (Finn, 2004; Eytan & Borras, 2005). Sheridan and Grant (2007) have cautioned against overemphasising the disinhibiting and facilitative aspects of cyberstalking, noting that in reality offline stalkers seem to have little difficulty surmounting the social and psychological barriers to their harassing behaviours. They also suggest that offline stalking may be more reinforcing, as perpetrators are better able to observe the impact of their activities.

Victims of cyberstalking The organisation Working to Halt Online Abuse publishes on its website aggregated data about those who have contacted the service complaining of being the victims of cyberstalking (www.haltabuse.org/ resources/stats). The majority of victims are young women. The most frequent form of online harassment was using email, with chat rooms and message boards also being relatively common. SMS and other messaging were reported infrequently but this probably reflects the nature of the organisation, which is perceived as dedicated to internet rather than all electronic forms of communication. Strangers, or at least unknown perpetrators, made up virtually half the stalkers, with some 28% having first encountered their victim online. The only systematic attempt to evaluate the impact of cyberstalking on victims comes from Sheridan and Grant (2007). They found in a large convenience sample of stalking victims that the reported effects on a wide range of factors for psychological and social wellbeing did not differ between those subjected to online stalking, offline stalking, or a combination of the two. In short, being stalked online is just as potentially damaging to a victim’s psychological and social health as any other form of stalking. Strategies to reduce

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the impact of cyberstalking upon its victims are discussed in Chapter 22.

Conclusions Studies of cyberstalking are in their infancy. For all the media attention and scholarly consideration of

cyberstalking, there remains a paucity of systematic study. This gap will undoubtedly be filled. Then cyberstalking may emerge as an important and largely independent phenomenon encompassing a wide range of online criminality. Alternatively it may remain one set of techniques among others for imposing unwanted communications and making life difficult for stalking victims.

14 Stalking by proxy

Introduction In addition to the more direct forms of harassment described in earlier chapters, stalkers may involve other people or agencies in their attempts to communicate with or track their victim. On occasion, other parties may perpetuate the harassment without any active encouragement from the stalker. We have termed those stalking activities which are perpetrated by others on the stalker’s behalf stalking by proxy. For the most part the involvement of others is unwitting. All manner of explanations may be offered by the stalker to incite others to engage in these activities. Sometimes, friends and family members labour under the illusion that their loved one is in fact the victim of stalking at the hands of the true victim (this role reversal is described further in Chapter 19). Some confederates are less concerned with the moral or legal implications, succumbing to bribes. In certain situations, such as delivery services, the transaction appears quite legitimate and may not arouse suspicion. Victims may on occasion erroneously believe that others have been recruited by their stalker. They allege corrupt employees in telephone companies hired by the stalker to monitor calls or to interfere with traced calls, motor mechanics incited by the stalker to tamper with the victim’s vehicle or council workers recruited to watch the victim’s home. These claims may have a delusional basis, or may reflect the overwrought reactions of a distressed victim driven beyond reason (see Chapter 19). This chapter describes instances of individuals or agencies who have knowingly or unwittingly been

suborned into assisting a stalker’s pursuit and intrusions. It will be followed in Chapter 15 by an examination of the various ways in which the legal system can be used by stalkers as a tool of harassment.

Private detectives One of the more commonly recognised forms of stalking by proxy is the commissioning of private investigators to locate the victim and to monitor their movements. The engagement of private detective services allows the stalker indirect access to expensive and sophisticated means of surveillance. One private detective was paid a generous sum to follow his client’s victim in a helicopter (Mullen et al., 1999). A woman who pursued a police officer hired a private investigator to photograph the man and obtain confidential details including his police record number, passwords to his bank accounts and account numbers. This information was used to maliciously divulge information to criminals who had been arrested by the victim in the past (Silverman, 1998). In another case a woman who was stalked by her neighbour, a schizophrenic man with erotomanic delusions, moved home to escape his repeated approaches and his dogged assertions that she was pregnant (at the age of 57) with his child. The man, who had recently inherited $50 000 from his father’s estate, paid a private detective to locate her new address. The exploitative investigator obtained the address within hours from the electoral roll but withheld the information for three weeks, alleging the process had been ‘very complex’ in order to justify

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his $20 000 invoice. While the ingenuous stalker paid dearly to be reunited with his imagined lover, the victim, forced to contemplate another move, faced considerably greater financial and emotional upheaval. An infamous example in which the services of a private detective aided and abetted a stalker’s deadly quest was the tracking down and fatal shooting of actress Rebecca Schaeffer by Robert Bardo. A private investigator was instrumental in locating Schaeffer’s Los Angeles address through the California Department of Motor Vehicles, enabling Bardo to confront and murder the young star (Mair, 1995). Private detectives are not commonly utilised, as the cost is prohibitive for the ‘average’ stalker. In our experience they are more likely to be employed not by the stalker but by the victim, to provide personal protection or to gather evidence that may assist in the successful prosecution of the stalker. There are anecdotal accounts of celebrity stalkers who have obtained positions as security guards ‘protecting’ their famous target (Gross, 1994). In the following case of non-celebrity stalking, the perpetrator obtained a private investigator’s licence in order to stalk his victim with relative impunity. CASE EXAMPLE Simon had plagued his ex-wife since their marriage ended 18 months previously, breaking into the home she shared with her mother, vandalising her property, besieging her with phone calls at work and home, staring through the bedroom window as she undressed and making repeated threats upon her life and that of her mother. Both women eventually obtained a restraining order but he breached this on countless occasions, once by attending his ex-wife’s workplace (a legal firm), falsely accusing her of indecent acts against a niece and threatening a co-worker who demanded he leave. He continued his campaign of harassment despite his impetuous second marriage to a Russian migrant. He then applied for a licence to establish his own private detective firm. Despite his dubious history and his contempt for the restraining order, Simon was successful in the application and proceeded to outfit the company with a range of surveillance equipment, though his application for a gun licence was denied on the basis of the restraining order. His new wife joined him in this enterprise, assisting particularly with surveillance operations, always at the one address: that of Simon’s ex-wife and mother-in-law, although his ex-wife was convinced this woman

knew nothing of the harassment nor even that her husband was previously married. She also suspected that his second marriage was one of convenience. When the police felt unable to intervene in this man’s persistent pursuit, since they considered his activities to be legal by virtue of his new-found occupation, the victim and her mother fled interstate, convinced he would one day kill them both. They now lead a sequestered lifestyle which surprisingly, given their stalker’s officially endorsed investigative skills, remains uninvaded.

Ordering or cancelling goods and services Ordering goods which are then delivered to the victim is a relatively common means of recruiting innocent citizens to the stalker’s campaign of harassment. Providers of various goods and services will unwittingly oblige, the usual examples being midnight pizza deliveries or flowers dispatched to the victim’s address. One pizza delivery boy was instructed by the stalker to knock very loudly (at 1.00 a.m.) because the lady of the house was deaf! In some cases, stalkers have arranged for deliveries of firewood, manure and gravel, and there are a few instances known to us where new cars, white goods and entire lounge suites have arrived at the victim’s address by order of the stalker. Stalkers have also subscribed to magazines on the victim’s behalf: one of these was a weekly publication, such that the victim was forced to endure an onslaught of unwanted reading matter. Her efforts to cancel the subscription were initially ignored because the publishers were under the impression that she was seeking a refund without good cause. Monthly pornographic magazines arrived at another victim’s address, creating embarrassment and exacerbating his feelings of fear and violation. Furthermore, his girlfriend of six months ended their relationship because she was unable to comprehend the magnitude of the problem, suspecting her boyfriend of leading some sort of ‘secret double life’. Stalkers may also cancel essential services in the victim’s name. In one case the stalker persuaded the victim’s local power company to terminate her electricity supply. Ironically, the victim reported greater difficulty convincing the company of the deception than the stalker had apparently experienced in executing it.

Health professionals

The victim was forced to stay the night with a friend before the power to her home was restored. She stated she felt very vulnerable, fearing she may at any time be plunged into darkness, rendering her easy prey for her tormentor. Another tactic that has been adopted by some stalkers involves cancelling the victim’s credit cards. A woman whose (ex-husband) stalker had reported her credit cards stolen experienced great embarrassment and inconvenience, and her temporary lack of funds heightened her sense of vulnerability. A similarly affected woman commented: This [cancelled credit cards] was not only a terrible violation of my privacy. When the sales assistant discovered the card was stolen and I was suspected of fraudulent use it was the final straw … this guy is the criminal yet here I was having to defend myself to the police and the bank officials! I now avoid using any credit cards, because I feel great anxiety whenever I have to hand the card over … Of course, it means having to keep more cash in the house and that makes me pretty anxious also.

Finally, stalkers have on occasion advertised the victim’s ‘services’. One placed job advertisements in local newspapers with the victim’s contact details. In another case a man posted advertisements on the community bulletin board for his ex-girlfriend’s (fictitious) massage parlour, complete with her picture and contact numbers. These attracted a distressing barrage of enquiries at the victim’s home and workplace (a primary school), not only from eager prospective clients but also from a less impressed school principal and the police.

Friends and family Stalkers will in some instances enlist friends, family or acquaintances to supplement harassing behaviours or even to ‘stand in’ for them, so that the stalker creates the illusion of compliance with legal injunctions. Examples include persuading friends to repeatedly drive past the victim’s residence (with or without the stalker on board) and friends and/or family members sharing surveillance of the victim. In Rule’s (2001)

disturbing account of ex-intimate stalking, multimillionaire stalker Allen Blackthorne continued to monitor the movements of his former wife Sheila Bellush after she remarried and moved suburbs by cultivating the sympathies of her new next-door neighbour. By alleging that Sheila was physically abusing their children, Blackthorne incited the neighbour to spy on his ex-wife and provide him with regular bulletins. The neighbour even reported Sheila to child protection authorities. Sheila Bellush was brutally murdered after she fled the state, and Allen Blackthorne, whom some have dubbed a ‘white O. J. Simpson’, used malicious lies, money and psychopathic charm to enlist the help of various acquaintances and private investigative services to track her down. In another case known to us, a young man promised his non-English-speaking migrant family that with their support he would win over the ‘Australian lady of my dreams’, a woman who had been friendly to him in a local store. This ‘support’ extended to family members joining him in renditions of romantic ballads in the street outside the woman’s home, attired in T-shirts bearing the unfortunate victim’s photograph! The victim ultimately moved interstate, believing there was no other way to dampen the enthusiasm of her stalker or his family. She said that her fear and anger were tempered with embarrassment and guilt, as her pursuers had also intruded on her neighbours, adding wryly, ‘the singing was awful … they were hardly the Partridge family.’

Health professionals There are also disturbing accounts of healthcare professionals succumbing to the manipulation of stalkers. One victim’s family doctor, who treated both her and the ex-husband who was stalking her, indiscreetly passed on her personal details to her stalker. He had in fact been apprised of the situation by the victim several months earlier when she consulted him about her disturbed sleep pattern, but he uncritically accepted the ex-husband’s allegations that the couple were reuniting. If he considered it strange that the victim had obviously not divulged her new address and phone

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number to this man he certainly didn’t dwell on it, or concern himself that the woman might be placed at risk. We have also encountered instances in which medical receptionists have disclosed critical contact information to significant-other stalkers because they were not acquainted with the risks. In one such case the treating physician was well aware of his patient’s victimisation at the hands of her estranged husband but had failed to alert his receptionist to the relevant security measures. In both examples the victim was forced to move to a new address and change her phone number, at considerable cost and inconvenience. Both also changed their medical practice and practitioner. From time to time we have also encountered psychiatrists and psychologists who, in the course of preparing reports for courts or lawyers defending clients charged with stalking, have been seduced by very plausible defendants, with serious repercussions for the victim. One psychiatrist who interviewed the stalker-defendant for an hour concluded that the complainant – the defendant’s psychotherapist – had in actual fact encouraged the defendant’s advances. This was based entirely on the defendant’s convincing but false account, without any reference to a wealth of objective, discorroborating information. Although in the course of the subsequent court proceedings the defendant’s allegations were disproved, the victim’s suffering was greatly exacerbated by the psychiatrist’s uncritical acceptance of the stalker’s malicious portrayal of her. In several cases only ignorance could account for health professionals stalking by proxy. A young woman who had been relentlessly pursued by an erotomanic man from her church was relieved when he was committed to a psychiatric hospital – until she received a letter from his psychiatrist requesting a recent photograph, ‘to help the patient deal with his loss’. In a similar case a general practitioner who had been stalked by a former patient received a phone call from the psychologist who was treating the patient’s borderline personality disorder. She urged the GP to send the patient one of her handkerchiefs soaked in the doctor’s favourite perfume, in her view an ideal ‘transitional object’.

The church The church is another fiduciary body that has demonstrated its vulnerability to exploitation of this nature. One victim described her anger and disillusionment with the church, which, by providing support to her stalker, allowed his activities to continue and ultimately, she believes, helped him to evade prosecution. In this case, the stalker appeared to cultivate the sympathies of church members by maligning his victim and endearing himself by presenting a picture of hypermorality. When the stalker was brought before the court on a charge of breaching a restraining order, the parishioners provided glowing character references and naively recounted the defendant’s many horror stories about the victim, all of which were projections of the stalker’s malevolent qualities.

Real-estate agents Real-estate agents are a potential resource for stalkers. One was deceived by a stalker into attending the victim’s residence with a view to selling the property. Several victims under our care have recounted instances where agents have been encouraged by stalkers to disclose crucial information, including the new address of the vendor-victim. When victims are forced to change residence as a consequence of stalking activities they may be too distressed and distracted to ensure these details are withheld. Unfortunately, indiscretion of this magnitude can prove enormously costly.

Psychics One morbidly infatuated woman sought the opinion of an astrologist regarding her future with her imagined paramour (her family physician). The astrologist unfortunately confirmed from the birth signs of both parties that they would indeed marry, and she forecast a very happy future for them. Her beleaguered doctor did not share his ex-patient’s excitement when she defied a restraining order to hand-deliver the astrological charts to his surgery. In another case, a palmist

The media

predicted that her client (who had an erotomanic attachment to an artist) would die in the year 2000; this created an imperative for the fated stalker to step up her pursuit, so that she and her imagined suitor could wed and have a baby as soon as possible.

Motor vehicles Stalkers can hire cars to conduct their surveillance activities, often with the intention of disguising their illicit presence. On occasion we have encountered situations where the stalker’s occupation provides ready access to a variety of cars. This behaviour instils considerable trepidation in their target, who becomes suspicious of every strange car in the street and especially fearful of any motor vehicle that travels behind them. A victim who was pursued by the sales manager of a local BMW dealer was more specifically concerned about any latemodel BMW, while the trepidation of a woman whose stalker worked for a Toyota dealership was constantly triggered by the rather ubiquitous sight of Toyotas. One of the stalkers under our care had a penchant for hired limousines, directing the chauffeur to park outside his victim’s house. The chauffeur had never before been greeted by a screaming, knife-wielding young woman who clearly had no plans to accompany his client that night. There are also examples of stalkers obtaining personalised car registration plates to taunt their victim. One woman who absolutely refused to accept that her relationship with a businessman had ended obtained plates bearing the unusual surname of her ex-lover, then repeatedly drove her very recognisable vehicle past his workplace, screaming obscenities. Gross (1994) refers to the serial stalker in California who obtained two personalised licence plates: ISTLKU and ISTLKU2.

The media The media contributes to the phenomenon of stalking in a number of ways. Many believe that the behaviour of the paparazzi who plague the lives of celebrities constitutes stalking in its own right, such that the term

stalkerazzi has been coined to describe them (Meloy, 1998b). Furthermore, their activities expose the readers of their tabloids to the personal lives of celebrities, promoting a false sense of extensive intimacy between celebrities and fans never before realised. In the Madonna Ciccone case (see Chapter 15), after her stalker Robert Hoskins was taken into custody the star’s ordeal was far from over: the violation continued, as she was then subjected to the scrutiny of the world press, with the media staking out her home. The ignorance and lack of empathy demonstrated by some reporters was astonishing, matched only by that of the court and indeed Hoskins himself, portraying Madonna as unreasonable in her fears and heartless in seeking to prosecute this allegedly harmless eccentric. Radio, television and cinema variously foster such pseudo-intimacy. The accessibility of the famous through the media encourages in the suitably vulnerable individual the development of fantasised ‘relationships’ (see Chapter 18). Media reporting of stalking cases is at times insensitive, and may encourage the stalker, with words such as ‘husband’ or ‘boyfriend’ rather than ex-husband and ex-boyfriend. One high-profile sport star who was pursued by a morbidly infatuated casual acquaintance was regularly referred to in media reports as a ‘former lover’, reinforcing the stalker’s belief in a romantic bond that had never existed in reality. Signer and Signer (1992) have observed that newspapers from time to time publish letters from stalkers in their ‘personals’ columns. They provide the following example, as it appeared in a Montreal newspaper in 1991. It was one of a series, probably written by the same man, who appeared to have erotomanic delusions: Two years ago I was on Sherbrooke metro 1 cent dropped off me, one girl gave it to me. I said to her 1 cent is nothing, she answered me for good luck. One year ago she said to her girlfriend I am going to marry him. I saw her a couple of months ago. I am looking for her, but I cannot find her. I think she is German, many German girls know me. I am the most important for West. (p. 224)

Gross (1994) also provides an example of stalking via the print media, the stalker inserting menacing notes in the daily newspaper after the teenage girl with whom

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he sought a relationship began dating another man. They read: ‘I’m out there. No telling what I might do,’ and ‘I’ll be watching so I can catch you.’ One stalking victim told us that the local newspaper regularly published her ex-fiancé’s messages to her in the public notices section. This man, who had pursued and abused her since she ended their engagement nine months earlier, publicly demanded she retract her statements to the police. These communications persisted, becoming increasingly intimidating over a six-week period, before the victim’s lawyer threatened the paper’s editor with legal action. A singer/songwriter released a CD with lyrics directed at the ex-girlfriend he stalked, a mix of wooing, romantic songs and themes of being united in death. Attempts on behalf of the stalking victim to have a ban placed on the CD’s release were unsuccessful. The victim heard her stalker’s chilling descant over the airwaves while in a shop and was overcome; for nearly two years she could not bring herself to listen to any radio station, nor venture near shops where music was playing. She considered that the media and prominent people in the music industry had promoted her exboyfriend’s intrusions at the expense of her wellbeing.

The internet With the advent of the internet, an additional vehicle for stalking has emerged. Electronic mail may constitute an exclusive mode of harassment, or supplement existing forms of unwanted communication with the object of interest (see Chapter 13). The internet can also facilitate the stalker’s pursuit by furnishing him or her with intimate details about the victim from the wealth of personal data available in cyberspace. Lloyd-Goldstein (1998) described the internet as a ‘goldmine of online personal information’ (p. 209), and the potential for misuse by stalkers cannot be overstated. Addresses, telephone and fax numbers, medical histories and photographs amongst other data can be accessed through these interconnected computer databanks. The Web offers a number of commercial online private-investigator services, which can unearth information on an individual’s legal history and assets,

voting-registration records and even US Social Security numbers. For a fee and ‘a permissible purpose and screening process’ one may access the most personal records. One of these will even allow access to a person’s safe-deposit-box holdings. Incredibly, a specific home page for stalkers was set up in the USA for people wanting to stalk someone. The user specified the gender and region or city of their potential victim and the site then furnished a list of matches and telephone numbers/addresses for the stalking to begin. This absurd site was promptly shut down, for obvious reasons (Pappas, 1997). On occasion intimate details are volunteered by victims themselves. A naive surgeon created his own website, which included photographs of his family and his luxury car (complete with registration number), details about each of his four children (including the schools they attended, their academic progress and sports achievements) and plans for the family’s upcoming vacation. His enthusiasm soon evaporated, however, when a disgruntled patient paid a visit to the family blog. This led to a campaign of harassment spanning 12 months, when the stalker eventually succumbed to an illness for which he had held the doctor responsible. He followed the children as they walked home from school, scrawled graffiti over the surgeon’s car and fence and repeatedly threatened the doctor and his wife. The terrified wife became increasingly bitter, blaming her husband for their ordeal and ultimately moving away with the children to a secret address. Devastated, the primary victim resigned from his hospital appointment on account of depression and deteriorating physical health, selling the family home and trading his beloved car for an unprepossessing secondhand vehicle.

Conclusions Innocent disclosures, unwitting exploitations and inflexible systems that facilitate contact and communication between stalker and victim may all constitute stalking by proxy. In most cases this form or extension of stalking creates disproportionate distress to the recipient because it confirms to the victim that the rest of the

Conclusions

world does not comprehend, trivialises, or simply lacks sympathy for their predicament. Worse, some may be viewed as willing accomplices. The sum effect is to heighten the victim’s mistrust of others and isolate him or her from needed supports. This situation lays fertile ground for imagined revictimisation (see Chapter 19). As we will see in Chapter 22, victims must endeavour to enlist the support of others to maximise their protection against unwitting harassment by proxy. The information provided need not be exhaustive but should convey the seriousness of the situation. It may be appropriate for victims to provide neighbours with a description of the stalker, or even a photograph where this is available. This applies also to work colleagues

and security staff. Real-estate agents must be clearly instructed not to divulge any identifying information; this applies also to any other agency where there is a potential for breaches of confidentiality. Many stalking victims harbour feelings of guilt or shame for their predicament, with consequent reticence to involve others, particularly strangers. They may avoid approaches to the aforementioned agents because their efforts to elicit help have thus far failed, and they feel increasingly helpless and pessimistic about the capacity of anyone to assist. More commonly, however, these approaches to would-be helpers engender concern and protective responses, and reduce the opportunities for stalking by proxy.

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15 The law as the stalker’s agent

Introduction Those who are repeatedly harassed and intimidated look to the criminal justice system for protection. In the past such protection was not extended to stalking victims primarily because of gaps and weaknesses in existing legislation. A stalker’s repeated intrusions, however frightening, or however obviously the prelude to greater violence, simply fell outside the ambit of the criminal law, as long as each incident, in and of itself, was lawful. As noted in Chapter 23, the introduction of statutes to criminalise and control stalking has done much to rectify the gaps in the legal framework through which stalkers had so often fallen. But despite the new legislative environment, the police and courts continue to fail some victims of stalking. This is not just because of the glitches and infelicities inherent in any social system but also because of insensitivities and legal loopholes which, at their worst, allow the stalker to use the legal system as an agent of their campaign of harassment and intrusion. This chapter will address both the ways in which stalkers are subverting the legal system in pursuit of their victims and the ways, despite the legislative provisions, victims are sometimes being deprived of the protections they seek. Stalkers are adept at exploiting weaknesses in any system, and the legal system in particular offers stalkers ancillary methods of harassment and a ready vehicle for stalking by proxy. We will first consider those areas of the legal system that are particularly susceptible to abuse, the manner in which stalkers can, and do, use the legal system to their own ends and the potential problems arising in specific jurisdictions and around

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particular legal provisions. Though it will never be possible to prevent all abuses, we conclude with a consideration of steps that could be taken to minimise these particular misuses of the legal system.

Stalking by law Stalkers can turn the police and the courts to their own ends, employing the justice system to trace, to harass and to enforce contact with their victim.

Tracing fugitive victims A number of victims we have seen managed to escape their stalkers by moving home and work, only to have their whereabouts divulged by the police or officers of the court. One of the more egregious examples was a rejected stalker who had continued pursuing his ex-partner over a number of years despite the presence of a restraining order. She finally changed jobs and moved to another neighbourhood, carefully concealing her new home and work addresses from all but her closest family and friends. The stalker, after several months of fruitless searching, contacted the court that had issued the order requesting the complainant’s address, to ‘facilitate his compliance’ with the order. The court officer obliged. In another case, a woman who moved interstate to escape being stalked by her ex-husband found that her new address was included in documents supplied to the stalker by those prosecuting him for assault charges against her.

Stalking by law

Less easily avoided is the exploitation by some stalkers of the civil and criminal justice systems to trace lost victims. Simply by swearing out complaints or initiating civil actions, stalkers can facilitate a search by police or court officers. A stalker told police he had been involved in a hit and run car accident in order to obtain his victim’s new address, by ostensibly providing police with the registration details of the ‘other driver’ and activating a police search via motor vehicles registration records. His victim had endured six years of stalking, finally changing her name and appearance and moving to an isolated address in the country, but as she still owned the same car her new location was promptly exposed.

Contributing to the harassment Stalkers can employ aspects of the legal system to intrude on and harass their victims. The commonest strategy we encounter is the stalker who falsely accuses the victim of being the stalker (a phenomenon we have termed role reversal, discussed further in Chapter 19). This not infrequently occurs in the context of the victim having threatened to go to the police if the harasser does not desist. To be fair to stalkers, some are so deluded, or so caught up in self-justifying fantasies, that they genuinely lose a grip on who is stalking whom, but this is the exception. Most mischievous accusations are either calculated attempts to ‘get in first’ and create sufficient confusion to delay or prevent their own prosecution, or a deliberate strategy to cause further distress to the victim. The accusation of stalking is particularly difficult for the police, or occasionally for organisations in which the behaviour occurs, as the pattern of contacts and intrusions can easily be reconstructed to make the victim appear the initiator. This is especially the case where victims have responded to their stalker in an attempt to appease, dissuade or threaten them into stopping. Being galled into mistaking stalker for victim is forgivable in some circumstances, but all too often it is a product of carelessness and ignorance. A graduate student who made an official complaint to the university against a fellow student, whom he claimed was using the university computer resources to stalk him, succeeded in having the accused

woman barred from the university until she underwent ‘compulsory counselling’. Not only did the injustice seriously disrupt her doctoral studies and create understandable distress, but it reinforced her feelings of powerlessness and undermined all hope of escaping this man’s continuing attentions. Fortunately the appointed counsellor was sufficiently savvy on matters of stalking and information technology to insist the university investigate the timing and source of the emails and other electronic intrusions, which soon made abundantly clear who was the cyberstalker and who the victim. In Chapter 19 we note that false claims of being stalked have become a significant problem for mental health services and the police. The stalker accusing the victim is only one variant, and far from the commonest, of the false victim of stalking, but when they succeed in persuading officials of the validity of their complaints the implications for the actual victim can be particularly devastating. False accusations by stalkers are not confined to accusing their victims of stalking them, but have in our experience included assault, sexual harassment, theft, fraud, the sexual molestation of children, professional misconduct and malpractice, and even terrorism. Gross (1994) reported the case of a woman who stalked her ex-lover and his wife, filing harassment, slander and assault charges against them. The stalker was self-represented and proceeded to ‘verbally eviscerate’ the defendants. Professionals stalked by patients or clients are peculiarly vulnerable to false accusations. The nature of modern complaints organisations and professional disciplinary procedures is such that considerable latitude, and assumed credibility, is extended to those complaining against individuals in potentially powerful positions, a situation to be welcomed in most contexts but problematic when stalkers are pursuing false and malicious complaints. The law attempts, with varying success, to prevent the disruption of its own procedures and practices by vexatious litigants, but to date seems to offer little protection to the individuals who may be the victims of vexatious complaints pursued through those same courts and tribunals. Victims of stalking may be revictimised by the legal system when the emotional distress suffered as a

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consequence of the harassment is judged by the ‘reasonable person’ standard. Abrams and Robinson (1998) note that ‘imposing a standard of reasonableness opens the door to an examination of the victim’s character, mental health, and stability.’ Cross-examination of the stalking victim’s past psychological history is highly invasive for the victim and hugely empowering for the stalker.

Enforcing unwanted contact A famous example of the courts acting as the stalker’s agent was that of Madonna Ciccone, who was forced to appear in the trial of a man who had been pursuing her for years. The morbidly infatuated man had repeatedly entered the celebrity’s property, alternately demanding they marry and, when rebuffed, threatening to ‘slice her throat from ear to ear’. After her stalker’s arrest in 1995 Madonna was required to testify at his trial because her evidence was considered critical to establishing that the defendant’s actions had placed her in fear for her safety. Not unexpectedly, Madonna was reported to be deeply traumatised by the prospect. A detective served her subpoena by joining the media throng outside her home and giving chase when she emerged. When Madonna chose to ignore the subpoena a warrant was issued for her arrest, with bail set at US$5 million. During her testimony Madonna said of her court-mandated confrontation with the defendant, ‘I feel incredibly disturbed that the man who has repeatedly threatened my life is sitting across from me and we have somehow made his fantasies come true [in that] I am sitting in front of him and that is what he wants’ (Saunders, 1998). We have also encountered situations in which stalkers have attempted to circumvent a restraining order by contacting their victim through their lawyer. In one such case the stalker instructed her lawyer to recover a large sum of money allegedly owed by the victim, prompting repeated letters of demand from the stalker’s legal firm to the victim. The lawyer did not succeed in recovering the bogus debt but the victim’s overwrought correspondence more than satisfied their client. In another case the stalker’s lawyer simply posted his client’s letters to the victim, blatantly disregarding

the restraining order that prohibited any contact, attaching a ‘with compliments’ slip on his firm’s letterhead! To add to the victim’s distress, when she pursued the matter with the police she was assured that neither the stalker nor his lawyer were in breach of the order. (The Legal Practitioners Board has been less magnanimous, and may instigate disciplinary proceedings.)

Other ways the law can fail stalking victims Stalking victims can have their problems aggravated rather than ameliorated by a number of specific aspects of the enforcement of anti-stalking laws and of the functioning of certain courts and tribunals.

Law enforcement It must be acknowledged that stalking is a pattern-based crime rather than an incident-based crime, which presents a more complex problem for those responsible for investigating and prosecuting such offences. Studies in various Western jurisdictions have nonetheless consistently identified victims’ dissatisfaction with the law enforcement response to complaints of stalking. The reluctance of police to investigate complaints is attributed to a limited appreciation of the seriousness of the conduct or even that the behaviour constitutes a criminal offence (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Brewster, 2003a). Similarly, when legal sanctions are imposed, victims commonly report that they are not properly enforced. This effectively encourages stalking by signalling that the behaviour is of little consequence and will be tolerated. The trivialising of stalking and its impact on victims remains a widespread concern. Not only are some victims dismissed as oversensitive when they endeavour to make complaints to police, they may actually be derided and humiliated. We have several male victims of persistent and frightening stalking who were told by police that they were either ‘lucky’ to have a young woman pursuing them, or pathetic to let it upset them. Similarly, those pursued by another man were regarded unsympathetically as weak or gay, irrespective of their

Other ways the law can fail stalking victims

true sexual orientation. Women likewise are subjected to demeaning and insensitive responses, often sensing that police have better things to do than to sort out petty domestic problems, whether or not the stalking has arisen in a domestic context. The guilt experienced by many victims may be reinforced by police who perceive the stalking as the product of poor relationship choices. Not infrequently, those who complain to the police of being stalked, particularly when pursued by an expartner, are told to see a lawyer and obtain a restraining order. Such advice is often misplaced, usually unsustainable for those on lower incomes, ignores the fact that violence emerges most commonly with stalking by ex-partners, and we suspect is frequently motivated by the desire to avoid the trouble of investigating the complaints. At the other end of the spectrum is the damage that may result when the police do intervene. Despite the recommendation of professionals who work with stalking victims that the victim avoid any interaction with their stalker, police may encourage further contact in a misguided attempt at conciliation. In some cases stalkers have been advised to write letters of apology to their victim, or arrangements have been made for ‘dispute resolution’ meetings between the parties. While the police are attempting to bring an end to the harassment and reduce the burden on the justice system, the more usual outcome is a revitalised stalker and a re-traumatised victim. Such attempts often place already traumatised victims in the untenable position of feeling compelled to partake in a mediation process that forces them to have direct contact with their harasser. Refusal to participate places them at risk of being labelled uncooperative, uncommitted and undeserving of police resources. Unhelpful or even deleterious law enforcement responses are often the product of a limited appreciation of the psychological effects of stalking. Police and prosecutors may decide not to proceed with a complaint based on their own assessment of the victim’s credibility (Abrams & Robinson, 1998). They may exert their discretion in cases where the victim is highly emotional and apparently mentally unstable, although such presentations are in our experience common and understandable responses to the trauma of being stalked

(see Chapter 4). In cases where victims return to their stalker as a means of seeking temporary respite from the intrusions, usually when other measures have failed to protect them, this evokes an unsympathetic or even hostile response from police, who accuse the victim of inviting the harassment.

The misuse of stalking charges Stalking is a diverse offence that comprises a range of behaviours that vary in duration, intensity, motive and impact, and defining it has proved problematic for legislators and researchers alike (Samuels, 1997; Westrup & Fremouw, 1998). As discussed in Chapter 23, from a legal perspective definitional difficulties arise from how to codify the complex conduct of stalking without drafting laws that are so broad that they criminalise legitimate behaviours and are hard to enforce, or too narrow to afford protection to many victims. This problem in formulating what constitutes stalking is highlighted by the variations in anti-stalking statutes, not only in the required elements of the offence and the behaviours proscribed, but also in the associated penalties (Goode, 1995; Freckelton, 2001). In our community forensic mental health practice we have also observed considerable variation in the application of these laws. For example, one young man was referred following a conviction for stalking that comprised two SMS text messages. His relationship with the victim was confined to telephone contact, and when she informed him she wanted to end their exchanges he sent a message questioning her decision. When she did not reply he sent an abusive message indicating that he felt she had been leading him on. Although this was the man’s first offence he received a nine-month suspended sentence that was amended on appeal to an 18-month probationary order. While it is acknowledged that the messages were upsetting to the victim, it is doubtful that the behaviour warranted the label of stalking despite its qualification under the letter of the law in our jurisdiction. In contrast, another man who, over a period of a couple of months, made more than a 100 threatening phone calls to his victim at all times of the day and night was charged with telecommunications offences and breaching a restraining

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order, although his behaviour clearly also met the legal (and clinical) criteria for stalking. We are aware of numerous other cases of rejected stalkers who, despite the existence of restraining orders, have repeatedly threatened, harassed and even assaulted ex-partners and have escaped any criminal charges. It appears that the dismissal or downgrading of stalking charges, and the inappropriate and inconsistent application of stalking laws, arises out of a combination of the ambiguity inherent in anti-stalking legislation and a general failure to appreciate the fundamental concept of stalking. Unfortunately, this lack of understanding has three important ramifications: an attenuation of the stalking laws, a failure to direct stalkers to the appropriate assessment and treatment services, and inadequate protection for victims.

Protection orders There is continuing debate about the efficacy of protective injunctions in stalking cases (Meloy et al., 1997; Kuennen, 2003; see Chapter 22). However efficacious protection orders may be in theory, in practice they are potentially very detrimental if they are not effectively policed. The victim has to pursue what can be an expensive, often prolonged and not infrequently contested process to obtain an order. If this order is ignored or subverted by the stalker, the victim is deprived of the police and criminal justice protections they were led to expect. Of the victims we see, among their most bitter complaints are the inadequacy or absence of the response when a protection order is breached. Returning to court can result in little more than a restatement of the original order, which has already demonstrably failed. The experience of various forms of intervention and protection orders, which in the event prove to be paper tigers, both reinforces the victim’s sense of helplessness and increases the isolation consequent on the apparent impotence or indifference of the justice system. For the stalker, the lack of consequences reinforces their feelings of rectitude and bolsters their sense of control over the victim. So widespread, in our experience, is the failure of effective enforcement of protection orders that we increasingly advise victims to pursue complaints exclusively

through the criminal justice system (a strategy which, on occasion, comes to grief when victims encounter police and magistrates who seem to believe that such orders are a prerequisite for criminal prosecution). Protection orders provide dubious benefits for the victim, but for stalkers unassailable opportunities to further their harassment. As noted earlier, stalkers may petition the court for a protection order against the victim, alleging that person is in fact stalking them. Rejected stalkers are more disposed than other groups to duplicitous behaviour of this type. Protection order hearings enforce contact between stalker and victim, imposing a relationship that is both gratifying to the stalker and distressing to the victim. They indulge the stalker’s quest for personal information about the victim and provide them with an audience to the litany of abuses they claim to have suffered. Protection order hearings can become an effective means of exacting revenge, by casting the victim in the role of offender and subjecting them to the attendant emotional trauma, inconvenience and financial burden. When stalkers succeed in obtaining their order, as occasionally happens, or when a decision is made to grant mutual orders, a potent tool of entrapment is added to the stalker’s armamentarium.

Complaints tribunals As we have earlier noted, stalkers may make spurious complaints against the victim to various boards and tribunals, effectively subjecting their target to administrative harassment. Revenge is again a powerful motivator, but in addition the investigative process inevitably maintains a relationship of sorts between the stalker and the object of their allegations. One such case involved a medical practitioner who became the victim of rejected stalking by a former patient after the termination of a year-long therapeutic relationship. When the doctor refused to respond to her incessant phone calls and faxes the woman filed a complaint of sexual impropriety against him to the Medical Board. After a lengthy and cynical process the doctor was cleared of any wrongdoing, but the impact on his family, his practice and his emotional health was considerable. His stalker, however, was received sympathetically, was privy to

Other ways the law can fail stalking victims

personal information about the doctor and avenged the humiliation of the lost relationship without being held accountable for her vexatious claims. Far from assuaging the woman’s ardour, the process led to an escalation of the harassment. Rejected and resentful stalkers are more likely than other groups to harass through these channels, though the resentful may genuinely believe they have been wronged. As in the Medical Board case, otherwise isolated, aggrieved individuals may find an attentive, sympathetic social network in these investigative bodies, and a sense of vindication and empowerment. Given these rewards and the abundance of complaint agencies at their disposal, the stage is set for serial complaints. Indeed, a man who was driven by resentment to stalk his neighbour reported his victim to the local council for various specious infringements. Each month he complained to a different department, and the victim was cleared on each occasion, but as there was no communication between departments the pattern was not initially recognised. As a consequence, the victim underwent unnecessary investigations that were embarrassing and time-consuming, and that involved costly legal advice.

Family court Rejected patterns of stalking can be particularly difficult to resolve when the stalker and victim share children. Stalkers who may have formerly shown little interest in their children view child custody hearings as another chance to maintain contact with the victim and to punish them for trying to end the relationship. Shared custody arrangements provide stalkers with further opportunities for intruding on the victim, either during visitations and exchanges or less directly, through the children. For example, they may arrive hours early for visitations, to ‘buy’ more time at the victim’s home, or send harassing messages home with the children. One victim claimed that every time she bought new outfits for the children her former spouse deliberately ruined them, and then informed the children’s teachers that their mother would not buy them any clothes. The school reported the apparently neglectful mother to child protection services. In another case the family

court attempted to facilitate joint decision making and cooperation between a woman and the ex-husband who had stalked her for four years, by directing them to keep a ‘communications book’. Every time the woman needed to communicate any aspect of the children’s care she made an entry in the book, which was to be collected from a shared post office box by her exhusband prior to child visitations. He was required to communicate in a similar fashion. The book quickly became another tool for harassing the victim, such that she experienced marked anxiety whenever she approached the post office. The stalker also defaulted on his agreement to share the post box rental fees. In addition to orchestrating protracted disputes over child custody, stalkers can continue to dominate their victim’s life through disputes over property and child support payments. They can exert considerable influence over the victim’s continuing welfare through these measures. In the above example the stalker who refused to contribute to the post office box costs also failed to meet child support obligations. He repeatedly disputed his victim’s income, even hiring a private detective to investigate the assets of her entire extended family. In addition to enabling him to gather a large personal database on the woman, the man’s efforts plunged the mother of his children into increasing financial hardship. Indeed, in her desperation to end the harassment, the victim ultimately forfeited her rights to child support payments and she now resides in public housing. In another case a woman used the family court system to harass and intrude on her ex-husband and his new partner for more than 15 years. The courts sanctioned over 100 orders and injunctions, most ostensibly in the children’s name, and almost all centring on the supposed undisclosed wealth of the ex-husband and child support payments. At the time of the separation the couple had had two children in their mid teens, but the court was still sanctioning intrusive enquiries and claims around child support when both children were in their thirties. The ex-wife was usually self-represented, and exploited to the full the opportunities this provided to harass and insult her ex-husband. The claims and enquiries repeatedly led nowhere, and various judgements were highly critical of the ex-wife, but this apparently in no way inhibited the court ordering

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subsequent intrusive investigations on the basis of similar claims. The new partner had been subjected to court-ordered enquiries into her finances and property which she found intensely distressing. Legal costs drained the couple’s resources and still they were receiving solicitors’ letters and notices of court proceedings on an almost weekly basis. Children in such cases are inescapably secondary victims. They suffer displaced blame and abuse from the stalking parent and incur the displaced wrath of the victim when they are forced to convey the stalker’s provocative messages. Children are inevitably affected by the psychological, social, and vocational damage inflicted by stalkers on their victims. Parents whose lives are consumed by stalking have less time and energy and fewer financial resources available to their children. Multi-millionaire stalker Allen Blackthorne, referred to in Chapter 14 (Rule, 2001) used his two daughters and the family court as merciless tools of harassment in the war he waged against Sheila Bellush. After his ex-wife fled the state with her children and new husband, Blackthorne encouraged his younger daughter to maintain phone contact and divulge her mother’s new location. The child then had to live with the realisation that she had facilitated her mother’s murder. Stalkers can be particularly credible in the family court setting, often in contrast to their emotionally and sometimes physically battered victims. Their propensity to eschew responsibility for the marital collapse and to undermine the victim’s competence, or indeed to falsely allege abusive or irresponsible parenting, may influence the court’s decision. Other court workers, including child advocates, lawyers and mental health professionals, may be similarly deceived (Zorza, 2001).

The stalker in correctional settings Stalkers are resourceful people, and some succeed in continuing their harassment while incarcerated. One morbidly infatuated stalker phoned his victim from prison, having convinced correctional authorities she was his legitimate girlfriend. Another rejected stalker serving a two-year prison term used visiting times to plot revenge attacks upon his victim, which included

paying acquaintances to slash the victim’s car tyres and deposit dead rats at her front door. Victims sometimes feel that the privacy of the prisoner is protected at the expense of the victim’s safety. Despite the likelihood that some stalkers will resume their pursuit upon their release, victims are not routinely given key information that would enable them to prepare for this. A woman who had been stalked and repeatedly assaulted by her former boyfriend over an eight-year period experienced a reprieve when he was imprisoned for stalking, but she was alerted to his release, six months earlier than she had anticipated, when a brick was hurled through her window. Stalkers often receive custodial sentences divorced from any form of mental health assessment or intervention. As with sexual offenders, deviant attitudes may intensify rather than attenuate in a prison setting. Whether through ignorance, lack of resources or the brevity of sentences, the failure of the justice system to incorporate mental health evaluations in the disposition of stalkers passes up precious opportunities to address the pathology that may underlie the offending and deprives victims of the only intervention that may end their suffering. Moreover, even those stalkers who receive non-custodial dispositions with a treatment mandate may be lost to intervention if supervising correctional officers fail to ensure these conditions are met. One stalker known to us received a six-month intensive probationary order but repeatedly avoided appointments to undergo assessment and treatment at our clinic until the expiry of the order. Worse, when he reoffended against his victim some weeks later his former corrections officer advised the court that her records showed he had ‘received psychiatric treatment’ which had ‘obviously failed’.

Minimising legal system abuses Stalking is less likely to thrive in a system that encourages inter-agency information sharing and a coordinated response in which police, the judiciary and victim support agencies work together to bring the behaviour to an end. Police and judicial training should be aimed at improving knowledge of stalking,

Minimising legal system abuses

its impacts, the responses that reinforce the behaviour and the legislative options in each jurisdiction. Programmes in the USA are demonstrating the benefits of centralised handling of stalking cases, with vertical investigation and prosecution procedures (American Prosecutors Research Institute, 1997). Every effort should be made to identify and penalise malicious false reporting by stalkers. The dangers inherent in issuing mutual protection orders must be recognised, and their use resisted in cases where suspected stalkers allege they are victims. In stalking situations courts should consider exercising their powers to have complainants give evidence by video link. This need for separation is most pressing in cases involving intimacy-seeking stalkers who desire direct contact with their victim at almost any price and who will reinterpret virtually any statement or gesture, or even the lack of them, as indicators of the victim’s affections towards them. Enforcing face-to-face contact in this situation simply encourages reoffending. Stalkers, particularly of the resentful and angry rejected types, who stalk with the specific intention of frightening their target, may have terrorised their victims over many months or even years. Forcing the victim into physical proximity with their tormentor may evoke such strong feelings as to both revictimise the complainant and satisfy the stalker’s wishes to inflict distress and tumult. This situation is compounded when the stalker elects, as they not infrequently do, to be selfrepresented. Courts should avoid if at all possible perpetuating victimisation and reinforcing and rewarding criminal behaviours in these instances.

Rejected stalking patterns frequently emerge from relationships that were characterised by domestic violence, and many of the issues pertaining to domestic violence cases before the family court are relevant to stalking. Approaches such as mediation, which may have value in some family court cases, are inappropriate if stalking is present because any contact or communication between parties will gratify the stalker’s desires and reinforce their behaviour. As discussed further in Chapter 21, the majority of stalkers have some form of psychopathology which is amenable to psychiatric treatment or other psychological intervention. Sentencing practices need to reflect the important role of mental health services in the management of stalking (Fritz, 1995). As stalkers seldom acknowledge their problem or voluntarily seek psychiatric help, their conviction may unlock a scarce window of opportunity for crucial psychiatric intervention. Dispositions for those convicted of stalking and related behaviours should include a mandate for mental health assessment, and treatment where this is indicated. Sentences should be of sufficient duration to facilitate these referrals, and the conditions must be assertively enforced. Stalking is best managed by a skilled multidisciplinary approach and, like law enforcement and legal personnel, mental health practitioners who provide assessments to the courts should receive training in stalking and its impacts. Continuing ignorance and inflexibility in our judicial system will encourage stalkers and condemn their victims, to the detriment of society as a whole.

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16 Stalking in the workplace

To truly address the threat of stalking, we must broaden our focus beyond domestic violence and beyond the home. Smock (2003, pp. 13–17)

Introduction Over the past decade there has been an increasing focus on antisocial workplace behaviours, in particular sexual harassment, bullying and ‘mobbing’ (Davenport et al., 1999), robberies, physical and sexual assaults, and homicide (Schell & Lanteigne, 2000). The US Department of Justice Special Report on Workplace Violence (Warchol, 1998) found that each year between 1992 and 1996 over two million US residents were victims of violent crime while at work. This encompassed 1.5 million simple assaults, 51 000 rapes and other sexual assaults, an estimated 84 000 robberies and over 1000 workplace homicides, accounting for 16% of all assaults, 8% of all rapes and 7% of all robberies. The proportion of fatal to non-fatal incidents increased during this period. Moreover, the US Bureau of Labor Statistics (2002) reported that murder is the leading cause of death in the workplace for American women and one of the main causes of death for men. In Britain, the annual incidence of workplace homicide is approximately 1.41 per 100 000 workers, while in Australia the annual incidence is around 4.88 per 100 000, or about one person per month murdered at work (Mayhew & Chappell, 2007). De Becker (1997) observes, ‘The fear of violence at work is

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understandable because work is a place where many of us are forced to interact with people we did not choose to have in our lives’ (p. 143). The existence and ramifications of stalking in the workplace, however, are only beginning to be recognised. Indeed, there is a dearth of specific research on workplace stalking. In their study of workplace attacks in Canada and the USA, Feldmann and colleagues (1997) found that stalking cases in general resulted in workplace violence 44% of the time (67% in medical facilities). The Workplace Violence Research Institute in the USA found that 90% of corporate security professionals had handled three or more incidents of men stalking women in the workplace, and claimed stalking was related to workplace homicides in some 15% of cases (Smock & Kuennen, 2002). While businesses are assuming greater responsibility for tackling issues of violence and sexual harassment in the workplace, stalking has tended to be viewed as a personal problem that does not concern employers. This neglects the fact that stalking in the workplace, regardless of its origins, can exact a heavy toll upon a range of people in addition to the primary target. This chapter describes the various presentations of stalking in work settings and the sweeping impact of these behaviours. It concludes with a consideration of management strategies for employers and victims of workplace stalking. Although the stalking of health professionals and public figures can be regarded as categories of workplace stalking, these topics are considered separately (see Chapters 17 and 18).

The nature of stalking in the workplace

The nature of stalking in the workplace Stalking that arises outside the workplace (external) Nearly half of all stalkers will present at their victim’s workplace. Typically, these are cases of rejected stalking, where the (usually male) ex-lover or spouse harasses his former intimate at her work. In some instances, however, particularly in rural areas, the stalker and his victim may be employed by the same organisation, and even work in the same building. Like rejected stalkers generally, these individuals typically subject their victim to multiple forms of harassment: they may watch their target leaving and arriving at work, approach the victim in the workplace, phone her repeatedly at work or send emails to her work address, leave notes, unsolicited gifts or threatening material, or drive through the parking lot in search of the victim’s car. Some attempt to sabotage the victim’s job, by disseminating malicious information about the victim to her employer or co-workers. In one case known to the authors the stalker informed his ex-wife’s employer about her shoplifting charge many years earlier, costing her the responsible bookkeeping position she had held for four years. Another sent a group email to all the work colleagues of his former lover, a manager, with false details of her sexual exploits. As noted in Chapter 6, rejected stalkers have a greater propensity for violence, and this may erupt in the victim’s workplace. A stalker known to us smashed through the reinforced glass doors to the entrance of the office where his victim, an ex-girlfriend, worked as a receptionist. Another (female) stalker entered her ex-husband’s business, lay in wait for him in the male restrooms and kicked him in the groin. There are occasional examples of lethal violence by ex-intimates in the workplace, as illustrated by the following case, detailed by Fresco & Bird (2005). Just before 7.45 p.m. on 14 September 2005 sales assistant Clare Bernal, 22, was working behind the beauty counter of a Harvey Nichols store in London when her 30-year-old former boyfriend, Czech-born Michael Pech, calmly approached her, spoke to her, then walked behind the counter and, in view of

customers, shot her several times at close range with a semiautomatic Luger pistol before killing himself. When Bernal ended their one-month relationship earlier that year Pech reportedly told her: ‘If I can’t have you nobody will.’ Army-trained Pech subsequently stalked Bernal, phoning repeatedly, bombarding her with text messages, standing outside her home, watching her in cafe´s, following her home from work, assaulting her and harassing her at her workplace. His pursuit of Bernal was all-consuming, apparently costing him his job as a security guard. Bernal eventually reported the stalking and Pech was charged under the UK’s Protection from Harassment Act 1997. He was remanded in custody but granted bail eight days later on the condition that he desist from contacting his ex-girlfriend or attending her work. By that time Bernal was reported to have obtained a restraining order and changed her home address and phone number. Pech was due to be sentenced a week after the murder–suicide. Staff at Harvey Nichols said they were aware of their colleague’s difficulties with her former boyfriend but claimed that initially nobody at work had taken Pech’s threats very seriously.

Stalking that arises in a work context (internal) When stalking arises within the workplace the relationship between victim and stalker is usually that of employer–employee, supervisor–employee, co-workers or service provider–customer. The stalker’s methods include unwanted approaches, observing the victim’s work activities and social interactions, monitoring the victim’s workstation, accessing the victim’s personnel files, sending or leaving gifts on the victim’s desk, interfering with or pilfering the victim’s property, sending letters, faxes or emails or leaving notes for the victim, disseminating malicious gossip, stalking by proxy (i.e. suborning other workers to perpetuate the harassment), following the victim when they leave work, and tampering with their car. The increasing availability of internet and email resources has expanded opportunities for offenders to stalk across state lines or even internationally. In one such case, the Melbourne manager of a large multinational company accepted a transfer to the Hong Kong office after he was stalked by an infatuated employee. The woman quickly located her victim’s new address (through staff bulletins) and resumed communications via daily emails.

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Internal stalking is frequently motivated by resentment, typically arising from some perceived injustice or mistreatment. The stalker may believe they have been unfairly passed over in favour of the victim and may contest the perceived discrimination before various tribunals and appeals boards, with escalating harassment as the complaints are dismissed. The victim, who may be an individual or an entire organisation, becomes the focus of the stalker’s embitterment and vengeance. Organisational CEOs, managers and others who are assigned the task of conveying unpalatable truths or performance appraisals to employees are at particular risk of being targeted, especially after the employee is fired from their job (Beatty & Beatty, 2002). Simon (1996) noted that disgruntlement is a frequent characteristic among workplace killers, some of whom previously stalked their victim(s). These individuals are akin to our resentful category of stalkers (see Chapter 6), often possessing major grievances against their employers or fellow employees. They have a history of insubordination incidents, disciplinary action, frequent absenteeism and disputes with – and threats towards – the object or objects of resentment. The latter may find their activities and performance being monitored by the aggrieved worker, who may even maintain a dossier on them (de Becker, 1997). Such cases are notorious for erupting in violence, often precipitated by a dismissal. For these individuals, losing their job is akin to losing their lover, wife or battle with a neighbour. It signifies major rejection, and precipitates a refusal to let go. Alternatively, workplace stalkers may be motivated by the desire for a date (incompetent suitors), morbid infatuation (intimacy seekers) or, less commonly, deviant sexual interests (the predatory). While ex-intimate stalkers who invade the workplace present the greatest risk of violence, intimacy-seeking and socially incompetent individuals may focus their attentions on a coworker and react with violence to the humiliation of persistent rejection. One tragic example was Californian software engineer Robert Farley, who became infatuated with fellow worker Laura Black. He responded to her repeated rebuttals by stalking her and, some four years later, after he had been sacked by the company where Laura still worked, he stormed his former

workplace and shot seven innocent employees. Laura Black, though seriously wounded, survived (Simon, 1996). Hockley (2000) conducted a small qualitative survey of stalking among female registered nurses in Australia, and found that in all cases included in the study (final numbers were not provided) the stalker was in a more senior position than the victim. The author noted that ‘stalking mainly occurs in a supervisory role with a person with legitimate power stalking a person they are supervising, or at least getting other staff members to do the “stalking” on their behalf’ (p. 7). The commonest stalking activities reported were privacy intrusions and being followed and watched. ‘Monitoring the victim’s work performance’ was a frequent rationalisation for the behaviour. Just as external stalking can infiltrate the victim’s workplace, so too can internal stalking extend beyond work to the victim’s private life. Stalkers can glean a wealth of personal information about their victim by eavesdropping, accessing their workstation or confidential personnel file, extracting information from other employees, and following the victim after work. The following five case examples (three from our own files and two from external sources) illustrate some of the contexts in which stalkers have targeted people within their workplace. CONGRESSMAN STALKED BY EMPLOYEE Mair (1995) reports the high-profile case of an employee who stalked his employer, a US Congressman, after becoming infatuated with the boss’s wife. In the early 1980s Congressman Bob Krueger of Texas hired Thomas Humphrey as his pilot during Krueger’s US Senate campaign. Humphrey became obsessed with Krueger’s wife, Kathleen, and was mortified when Krueger narrowly lost the campaign and Krueger’s staff disbanded. Humphrey would not accept that the campaign, and his services, were terminated and he hung around the Kruegers, even professing his love and devotion to them. Initially, the Kruegers were sympathetic and tolerated Humphrey’s continued presence in their lives. When they agreed to rent him one of their properties adjacent to their residence, his intrusions increased. He watched the Kruegers’ movements, and repeatedly dropped in unannounced. When Krueger requested privacy and encouraged Humphrey to get on with

The nature of stalking in the workplace

his life, Humphrey was enraged. He phoned the Kruegers incessantly, and on one occasion he visited Kathleen while her husband was out and embraced her. Thereafter, the Kruegers became virtual prisoners in their own home, fearing Humphrey was lurking about and might attempt to harm them, particularly after Krueger evicted Humphrey from his rented lodgings. The Kruegers lived with the curtains drawn, fearful of answering the door and telephone. Humphrey sometimes rang the doorbell, for up to 20 minutes at a time. For nine years, he wrote and phoned repeatedly at all hours, leaving up to 50 messages per day on their answering machine. Some of these professed his love for Kathleen (‘I just love you so much, goddamn it!’), while others threatened harm (‘You’re going to die’). The Kruegers were unsuccessful in their efforts to discourage Humphrey. Krueger tried to reason with his former employee, Kathleen screamed at him to stop, and they appealed to Humphrey’s parents, who refused to accept that their son was the problem. As the congressman and ambassador-at-large to Mexico needed to be accessible to clients and constituents, the Kruegers could not unlist their home phone number. They sought assistance from the police and the FBI, but were told they could not act until Humphrey physically attacked them. In 1987, the Kruegers unlisted their phone number when Kathleen became pregnant. Humphrey reverted to phoning Krueger at his office, cramming Krueger’s answering machine with messages (dialling 120 times a night to leave 120 halfminute messages.) Over time, the messages became more abusive and more threatening. When Humphrey left the following message at Christmas time 1987, Krueger finally had evidence of a specific illegal threat to murder him: I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’ve hired a killer to put a .22 caliber to your head while you lie sleeping next to your wife. You won’t be much of an ambassador with a hole in your head. (Mair, 1995, p. 210) The FBI now stepped in, as the phone call had crossed state lines from California to Texas. The Kruegers went into hiding and the FBI eventually arrested Humphrey in a California hotel. Though Humphrey pleaded guilty in 1989 to interstate extortion and death threats, and was sentenced to 12 months in a federal prison followed by three years’ probation, he served only five months of his prison term. By early 1990 the threatening phone calls had resumed. He was returned to prison for a further six months, but upon his release he continued to stalk and threaten the Kruegers (now with two young daughters). He was imprisoned for the third time in 1991. This case highlights the inadequacy of stalking laws at the time of Bob Krueger’s ill-fated decision to recruit Thomas Humphrey.

Krueger was subsequently appointed a US Senator in 1993, and went on to sponsor federal anti-stalking legislation.

MANAGER STALKED BY EMPLOYEE Sophie, a 50-year-old manager in a large government department, became increasingly unnerved by the repeated discovery of dead birds on the bonnet of her car at the end of her shift. Her vehicle, parked in a reserved bay in the staff car park, appeared to have been deliberately targeted. She also received a brief spate of hang-up phone calls at work, and on one occasion a dead bird was left overnight at the door to her locked office. She indicated there had been recent organisational changes and she had had to talk to several long-term employees about alterations to leave entitlements and penalty rates. One employee was particularly aggrieved by the changes and angrily confronted her the day after their meeting. Sophie described the disgruntled employee as a man who should have been dismissed years earlier. She said he was a manipulative, argumentative man who was frequently in conflict with other employees. He was a lazy worker who could not be depended upon and who often lied about his mistakes. He was an extremely entitled individual who relished power and control, and he was a constant ‘thorn in management’s side’ as the office union representative. She considered him emotionally unstable and potentially violent, and strongly suspected that he was her stalker. Her suspicions were further fuelled by the knowledge that he lived in a rural area with access to an abundant source of birds. Sophie felt very threatened by the dead birds. She voiced her concerns to the departmental director but he teased her for ‘getting all worked up about a few dead sparrows’. The director did agree to interview the suspect employee, at her insistence, but the man strenuously denied the allegations and threatened legal and industrial action. Sophie daily contended with the man’s hostility and poor work performance. The dead birds continued to appear intermittently, at approximately weekly intervals, and she responded with increasing anxiety and hypervigilance. She became disillusioned with the lack of support from her superiors, and her confidence in her capacity to manage employees deteriorated. When Sophie was referred to our service through her employee assistance programme (EAP), we arranged for her employer to install closed-circuit TV in the staff car park. Video evidence was subsequently obtained of the disgruntled employee making another perverse deposit. The matter was reported to the police but the employee was never charged, despite the compelling video evidence. When the organisation subsequently dismissed him, he unsuccessfully fought an unfair dismissal claim. Sophie’s fear and anxiety escalated in direct proportion to his reasons for hating her. Unable to work, she

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made a workers’ compensation claim. Shortly thereafter her stalker was re-employed at a non-government agency and he made no subsequent attempts to harass Sophie. Eight months later, she is continuing to experience panic attacks at the prospect of re-entering her work premises, and remains unfit to return to her former position.

EMPLOYEE STALKED BY CO-WORKER William, a 27-year-old married journalist, presented to our clinic after being stalked for approximately six months by Irene, a 39year-old unmarried female clerk who worked in the same building. He had transferred from a country posting eight months earlier and recalls Irene approaching him soon after his arrival and commenting that he resembled her favourite television star (a likeness that neither he nor we could see.) A week later, photocopied posters of the TV star appeared around the walls at work. William dismissed this as a childish joke on his co-worker’s part, but over the ensuing weeks and months he was bombarded with hang-up phone calls, which rotated between his work number, his home phone, his mobile phone and even his wife’s work phone, at one time receiving 400 calls over a 45-minute period. William then received a series of anonymous faxed messages, usually movie or book reviews, and on one occasion he received movie tickets through the departmental mail. These were accompanied by a none-too-subtle handwritten message that read, ‘To the guy with the movie-star looks – come join me at a movie soon’ which was signed ‘your BIGGEST fan’. Convinced Irene was responsible, William confronted her, but she laughed and denied any involvement. She nonetheless continued to visit his floor and hover near his workstation, on the pretext of delivering legitimate messages to co-workers. William threatened to complain to management but she seemed unfazed. After months of harassment he finally approached his supervisor, who ‘seemed to think it was a bit of a joke’. The victim subsequently intercepted a rumour that he and Irene were having an affair. Apparently his work colleagues had accepted this at face value, despite the unlikely nature of the union. That same day, a taxi cab arrived at his home address, ordered in his wife’s name. His wife contacted him and demanded to know ‘precisely what was going on between me and that woman’. His explanation was met with scepticism and, devastated at the effect of the false rumours upon his reputation and marriage, and alarmed that Irene had managed to access his personal file including his residential address, William again approached his employer, threatening him with a lawsuit unless appropriate disciplinary action was taken. Prompt action did ensue on this occasion, an investigation revealing that Irene had indeed made many calls from her work extension to William and his wife. When confronted, she

admitted her activities and conceded there had been no affair, as much, she lamented, as she’d have liked one. William subsequently learnt that, over the 18-year period Irene had worked there, no fewer than four other male employees had been subjected to similar harassment. While on this occasion, at his insistence, definitive action was taken (Irene was suspended pending the outcome of criminal proceedings on charges of stalking), disillusionment with the unassertive management style of his employers and the development of disabling anxiety symptoms forced William to abandon his chosen career.

EMPLOYEES STALKED BY CLIENT In December 1997 The Sunday Mail in Queensland, Australia, reported the case of a man who stalked five Department of Families, Youth and Community Care staff, including the department’s director-general. The man had begun stalking departmental staff after they removed his four children from his custody. Over a three-month period he made repeated obscene and abusive phone calls and visits to staff, and threatened them with violence. One woman was told ‘he was going to get me, he knows where I live, he knows what hours I was working.’ The director-general noted, ‘He said he’d take me out and take me down and take the Government down. I didn’t think he meant for a cappuccino.’ The staff reported that they feared for their lives and some of the office staff had become ‘absolute nervous wrecks’; two had taken stress leave and additional security measures had been introduced for staff at their home and office. The man was arrested and subsequently convicted of five counts of stalking. The director-general believed the case sent a clear message that ‘we’re public servants, not public slaves.’ (The Sunday Mail (Queensland), 7 December 1997, p. 5)

EMPLOYEE STALKED BY INSURERS In the following example, although the stalking originally occurred outside the workplace the employer’s workers’ compensation insurers effectively stalked the employee, impeding rather than facilitating the injured worker’s recovery. Megan, a 44-year-old senior social worker, was stalked for three years by a former boyfriend. She and her two young children (from her first marriage) were subjected to repeated phone calls, unwanted approaches, following and threats, and on one occasion Megan was sexually assaulted in view of her children. Counselling enabled Megan to more assertively access law enforcement services, though these were initially somewhat incredulous and disinclined to intervene. The stalker’s behaviour eventually subsided with a suspended prison sentence, although hangup phone calls continued to mark anniversaries. A year later, financially devastated by her ordeal and desperate to restore her

The impact of stalking in the workplace

self-esteem and social network, she resumed work as a welfare officer at a large metropolitan public hospital. Megan greatly enjoyed her work and for a time her family’s thoughts were less dominated by their stalking ordeal. She said that she had started to live normally, answering the phone with minimal anxiety, opening her blinds during the day, and not feeling the need to constantly scan her environment. Her children were similarly less anxious, sleeping in their own beds for the first time in years. Then one day at work she was assaulted while interviewing an elderly demented patient. Megan sustained severe back injuries, necessitating a workers’ compensation claim. Numerous expert medical opinions confirmed the extent of her incapacity and its physical basis. Megan now struggled to care for her children and was reliant upon the help of her depleted pool of friends and family members. Her psychological state nevertheless remained quite robust until she became aware that she was under surveillance. She noticed cars parked outside her home for prolonged periods and strange men loitering in the vicinity on rubbish collection mornings. She received phone calls ostensibly from people alleging they were conducting surveys on her use of council services or shopping routine. Megan found these behaviours highly intrusive, and they reignited distressing memories of the stalking and feelings of powerlessness. They also confirmed her belief that the world was indeed a malevolent place. She responded by keeping her blinds continuously drawn, refusing to answer the phone, severely restricting her outings and relinquishing the care of her children to her ex-husband. Megan’s workers’ compensation case worker acknowledged that she had been placed under surveillance despite the concurrence of medical opinion regarding the genuine nature of her disability. While the evident focus of the work injury insurance authority was productivity and cost containment their indiscriminate and ruthless efforts to return Megan to her former functioning were ultimately not commensurate with profit. In the long term, these clandestine practices were counterproductive and costly to the insurer, the employer and the employee. Megan has required intensive psychiatric treatment, funded by the insurer, for chronic post-traumatic stress, which has prevented her return to work. Her employer has lost a valuable social worker and is now facing expensive litigation.

The impact of stalking in the workplace The impact of stalking on the primary victim As the earlier case studies illustrate, stalking impacts on many aspects of a victim’s life, including their

occupational functioning. As discussed in Chapter 4, Pathé and Mullen (1997) found that over half the victims in their survey had curtailed or ceased work as a consequence of being stalked, and the US National Violence Against Women Survey found that over a quarter of stalking victims reported work absenteeism, 7% of whom had never returned to the workforce (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). Being stalked effects reliability and productivity: victims experience frequent absences from work as a consequence of attending court, lawyers, medical and counselling appointments and police stations; they stay home from work as a result of physical injuries, emotional and psychiatric disturbance, to protect their children and possessions or to avoid encounters with their stalker. In some cases stalking victims have lost their jobs as a consequence of deteriorating work performance and poor attendance, compounding their distress and isolation, as detailed in Abrams and Robinson’s (2002) case report. In Hockley’s (2000) survey the reaction of the female nurses who experienced stalking by their work superiors was reportedly one of fear and anxiety. One respondent considered suicide, ‘as I could see no way out’ (p. 9). Many felt helpless and alienated, as the behaviour appeared to be supported and condoned by the organisation despite receiving a formal complaint. Some became distrustful of others in the workplace, and questioned whether they were part of the conspiracy. The stalking impacted on these victims professionally, with reports of feeling overwhelmed by their job responsibilities, indecisiveness and self-doubt. Anger, frustration and loss of interest in their profession were also acknowledged, and all participants included in this study ultimately resigned.

The impact of stalking on the work environment Stalking which permeates the work setting, regardless of its origins, frequently impacts on a range of other people. Co-workers may become secondary victims, some as innocent bystanders, but others (commonly receptionists) are targeted because they impede access to the primary object of the stalker’s attention. The stalker’s activities may impact more generally on office

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morale and the emotional and physical wellbeing of workers, resulting in higher rates of absenteeism and suboptimal performance. As earlier noted, and dramatically illustrated by the case of Richard Farley and Laura Black, stalking potentially endangers the safety of all those who share the victim’s work environment.

The impact of stalking on the business or organisation as a whole The absence of workplace policies that address stalking behaviours, or a failure to prevent known episodes of workplace stalking, can expose businesses or organisations to litigation and challenging management problems. Stalking incidents and deficient workplace practices attract bad publicity, and organisations that appear to tolerate such behaviours may have difficulties recruiting and retaining high-calibre employees. Stalking in the workplace stifles productivity and diminishes profitability due to low staff morale, erosion of staff loyalty and commitment, diminished performance and absenteeism. Stalking imposes more direct financial costs on businesses, through litigation, criminal action, legal fees associated with handling formal and informal complaints, staff counselling and medical costs, workers’ compensation claims, additional security, wasted workplace resources (stalker’s use of work phone, email etc to harass) and recruitment and training of new staff. There is growing acknowledgement of the cost to businesses of workplace violence, bullying and harassment. The Australian Bureau of Statistics (1996) estimated that the cost to Australian business of domestic violence that penetrates the workplace is AUD$1.5 billion per annum, with $425–600 million in lost productivity, $28 million through absenteeism and $6 million in staff turnover. The US Department of Justice (2001) noted that half a million employees missed 1.8 million days of work each year due to violence, resulting in more than $55 million in lost wages, not including days covered by annual and sick leave. In Germany, the direct cost of psychological harm from workplace violence in an organisation of 1000 members was

calculated to be at least US$112 000 per annum, and the annual indirect cost to be at least $56 000 (Bureau of Public Information of the ILO, 1998). Bullying has been estimated to cost Australian industry in excess of AUD$3 billion per year. A recent Australian case of workplace bullying, in which the employee victim suffered severe depression, PTSD and marital breakdown, resulted in a record award for damages (Naidu v. Group 4 Securitas Pty Ltd, 2005). In that case, $1.9 million was awarded in damages against the employer to whom he was subcontracted, Nationwide News, predominantly for compensation for the injured employer’s medical expenses and lost income from inability to work. A further $150 000 in exemplary damages was awarded against the employer because it was shown that the employer had direct knowledge of the bullying and failed to act. The following section examines some strategies aimed at minimising the high economic and human-resources costs of stalking in the workplace.

Management of workplace stalking As noted above, employers are assuming greater responsibility for tackling threats, violence, bullying and sexual harassment in the workplace. Ultimately, however, addressing stalking in the workplace requires a collaborative effort between the victim and his or her employer.

General strategies It is important to identify stalking at the earliest opportunity. Victims of stalking behaviours are often in the best position to judge the risk posed to their personal safety and to others in the work environment, and their concerns should never be dismissed. While resentful stalkers may be more readily identified by virtue of their extreme negativity and antipathy towards the victim, the more subtle, ‘friendly’ behaviours of many morbidly infatuated and socially incompetent stalkers may give little initial cause for alarm. Employers and supervisors must create a safe and supportive environment for confidential victim

Management of workplace stalking

disclosures, in which victims do not have to fear retaliation or dismissal. Moreover, when employers suspect stalking, they should not wait for the victim to come forth and report it. Employers diminish the potential for resentful stalking by encouraging supportive work environments, training employees in solving interpersonal conflict and ensuring appropriate grievance procedures are in place. Before hiring any work applicant, employers should check all references and make enquiries regarding any history of stalking or aggressive behaviour. Wherever possible, contract personnel should be similarly screened. Beatty and Beatty (2002) recommend that hiring and selection agents be encouraged to employ legally and union-acceptable violence-propensity screening measures.

Victim and secondary victims Strategies to minimise the impact of stalking are outlined in Chapter 22 and by Pathé (2002). Victims of workplace stalking should particularly note the points outlined below.

Inform others It is important that those harassed in the workplace report the matter to their boss or supervisor, or to someone more senior if the response is inadequate. The complaint should ideally be made at the earliest signs of trouble, regardless of the offender’s status in the organisation. Victims can request that the offender be given a stern warning. This may not end the stalking, but it will signal to the offender that the workplace is taking the matter seriously, and it will be harder for the offender to later attribute innocent motives to his or her actions. It is appropriate also that the victim report the matter to the police. It is desirable in most situations – particularly those involving a potentially violent external stalker – that work colleagues are also informed, for the safety of all potential targets and to enhance security. The ignorance of Laura Black’s co-workers led to dissemination of information about Black to Richard Farley by the personnel department (the stalker asked a friend

in personnel to provide Black’s birth date so he could surprise her, and while the worker accessed her computer file, Farley leaned over and memorised Black’s home address also: Emerson et al., 1998). Certain employees may be at greater risk than others, especially those in key positions such as receptionists and security staff, and they should be included in the development of a safety plan (below).

Documentation Victims need to keep a record of all stalking incidents, noting the location, date and time of their occurrence and a description of the behaviour. They should include also the names and contact details of any witnesses, times and names of people consulted, and retain any evidence of stalking (e.g. telephone messages, downloaded email, faxes, gifts).

Protect personal information Stalking victims should remove their personal data from all work directories, and any documents containing private information should be shredded before discarding. Where possible, they should also change their business phone extension and email address. If they have recorded their own voicemail and answering machine messages these should be replaced with one recorded by another person of the victim’s gender, with minimal identifying information.

Security measures Victims who have obtained restraining orders must ensure that the prohibited zones covered by the order include all work sites; if not, they should arrange for the order to be varied. If the stalker is not known to the workplace, victims should endeavour to provide an accurate photograph or physical description of their stalker to fellow workers, the doorman, and reception and security staff. These should be displayed in a prominent position in the victim’s work area and at entry and exit points to the work premises. If possible, they should also provide a description of the stalker’s vehicle and registration

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number, and supply security personnel with a copy of any protective injunction. If the stalker is repeatedly calling the victim at work, they can ask a co-worker to screen all phone calls. If answering the phone is integral to the victim’s work they should try to arrange other duties until the stalker’s activities are halted. In addition to modifying their job description it may be necessary for the victim to relocate their work space (e.g. move from reception position in front of entrance and exit routes, to a more secure or less visible office). It may be necessary also to alter their work hours or shifts, or even transfer to a different office or branch. In addition to screening calls, victims should request that all mail, packages and visitors are screened. They should arrange access to a more secure or separate car park, and a security guard or co-worker to escort them to and from the car park or public transport stop. The period of greatest risk for the victim and others in the workplace may well be after a stalker employee has been transferred or dismissed. All staff need to be alert to retaliative action after the stalker is removed from the workplace, and continue to observe security measures during this period.

The stalker It is crucial that businesses and organisations establish guidelines to deal with employees who present problematic and threatening behaviours. They should require that disordered employees who are engaging in unacceptable behaviour undergo a fitness-for-duty assessment. Advice should be sought from mental health experts in managing stalkers and the risks they pose (see Chapter 20). If in the first instance counselling or mediation cannot address the problems underlying the harassment (be they personal or contextual to the organisation), and the stalker employee continues to engage in threatening behaviour, employers have several options. They can ban them from the work premises or place them on leave while an investigation is conducted, or allow them to continue on active duty, but in a different location to the victim, while an investigation is conducted. If the employer is satisfied that the employee

has engaged in the prohibited behaviours, a range of disciplinary measures can be taken, from reprimands and short suspensions to longer suspensions and dismissal (Schell & Lanteigne, 2000). If dismissal is in fact the optimal course it is preferable that this be undertaken at the earliest possible juncture, as recommended in the termination of other unwanted relationships. De Becker (1997) points out that ‘a problem employee is easier to terminate before he makes a substantial emotional investment in the job, before the minor issues become causes, before disappointments become disgruntlements’ (p. 162). De Becker further cautions that in dealing with difficult terminations organisations must strive to protect the dignity of the dismissed individual, keep the discussion focused on the future rather than the problem and failures leading to his or her termination, cite general rather than a multitude of specific reasons for this course of action, and must not be drawn into further negotiation.

Employers, managers and supervisors Employers must understand that any organisational member can become a target of stalking, even inadvertently. Employers must take stalking complaints seriously, respond promptly and investigate thoroughly. It is important that they identify the issue and intervene at the earliest opportunity, to prevent escalation of the problem. Employers and management must deal sensitively with the victim’s concerns and support and assist all those affected. Victims may require leave time to attend court, police interviews, medical appointments, and related requirements, and some will need help in their negotiations with law enforcement and the legal system. In larger organisations with employee assistance programmes (EAPs) all victims should have access to these services, and to mental health specialists where indicated.

Education Employers must be educated about stalking. Training should be available to employers and their employees

Management of workplace stalking

in the identification of early warning signs, patterns of stalking, attendant risks and local stalking laws. Managers should also receive training in the appropriate handling of employee terminations and use of resources such as EAPs, financial planners and counsellors. Training should be provided to union representatives, to enable more effective representation of employees whose work is affected by stalking.

Safety plan In addition to the individual measures that need to be taken by the victim or victims, the workplace must develop a safety plan. The organisation will need to establish a clear chain of command and reporting procedure for employees who experience harassing or threatening behaviours in the workplace, and for those who are victims of external stalking. Lists of contact persons, and crisis and evacuation plans, need to be accessible at all work sites, and to staff working off site. Such lists must include the appropriate law enforcement agencies to be notified. Workers should be familiar with emergency escape routes. All safety plans must be periodically updated and tested.

Security Workplace stalkers thrive on others’ carelessness and naivety. They exploit weaknesses in security, staff confidentiality and monitoring of work resources. It is crucial that employers enforce rules of confidentiality regarding personnel information. Personnel records should be securely stored, and reception areas should not be accessible to outsiders when there is no receptionist on duty. Staff must be circumspect in the information they disclose about employees (including where they are at present, and when they’re expected back). Co-workers should be warned that stalkers may impersonate other people, including the victim’s family members, their children’s school or the police. Ideally, employers should stipulate that employees and visitors to the work premises wear identification badges. They should retrieve keys and identification badges from terminated employees and block their computer access.

Consideration should be given to installing alarms at the workplace, particularly a concealed alarm at the victim’s work station. At-risk staff should carry portable panic alarms, as is already customary practice in work environments with a high potential for violent behaviours (e.g. forensic mental health clinics). Closedcircuit television can also be installed to monitor people entering the building, or security guards can be positioned at the main entrance to the building and other vulnerable sites.

Workplace anti-stalking policy and programmes Employers need to develop a proactive organisational policy that emphasises employees’ safety and incorporates a rapid-response plan for reporting threatening incidents. This may form part of a broader workplace violence policy. Schell and Lanteigne (2000) note that the wording of written workplace policy statements varies from one organisation to another but they generally convey the following points:  All organizational members are responsible for maintaining a safe work environment.  The policy not only covers acts of physical violence but acts of stalking, intimidation, and other disruptive behaviors.  The policy covers incidents involving co-workers and individuals from outside the organization attempting to perpetrate violence of some form.  The organization will respond promptly to all reported incidents.  The organization will make reasonable attempts to stop such concerning behaviors.  All organizational offices involved in responding to such incidents will be supported by management. (Schell and Lanteigne, 2000, p. 223) Workplace policies must provide clear guidelines regarding the process of notification of stalking behaviours, and designate an appropriate contact person. Policies should endeavour to be brief and plainly worded, as the details will be available in supporting documentation and training sessions. They should use definitions sparingly so that employees are not deterred from reporting a frightening situation which

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is not perceived to meet the policy criteria. Experts generally caution against the use of terms like ‘zero tolerance’, which may present legal complications, convey inflexibility in the organisation’s approach to challenging behaviour, and discourage some victims from reporting incidents if they are likely to culminate in the offender’s dismissal (Schell & Lanteigne, 2000; Beatty & Beatty, 2002). Sample policies can be found in Schell & Lanteigne (2000), Beatty and Beatty (2002) and End Stalking in America (2006). Organisations should have their policy statements reviewed by legal counsel. It is essential to the implementation of such policies that employees are aware of the policy and protocols in relation to workplace violence, stalking and other disruptive behaviours, and receive sufficient training to enable them to apply them appropriately. Information may be conveyed through training sessions, the workplace intranet site, workplace posters and staff newsletters. Anti-violence/anti-stalking slogans can be printed on staff payslips. Smock (2003) advocates the establishment of a multidisciplinary planning group or workplace violence committee to ensure workplace anti-stalking and related policies are widely understood and properly implemented, to evaluate workplace preparedness to respond to a stalking incident, to identify individuals or work areas at greater risk, to recommend ways to enhance response capability, and to develop a plan to respond to future stalking incidents. Such groups, potentially comprising employer and employee representatives, human resources managers, EAP staff, occupational health and safety personnel, health officers, union representatives, legal counsel and security staff, can also identify skills gaps and draw upon external consultants with the requisite expertise. Schell and Lanteigne (2000) also recommend that organisations establish an incident response or threat assessment team, comprising some of the members in the planning group (in particular EAP, human resources and security personnel.) Its purpose is to respond to threatening and disruptive behaviours in the workplace. Such teams would be required to undergo specialised training, with regular refresher courses.

Legal remedies Against the employer A non-delegable duty is implied in all employment contracts that employers will protect employees from workplace threats, vilification and other abuses. Employers can be held liable for damages resulting from their failure to prevent or minimise the risk posed by stalking. Victims may file a claim for workers’ compensation, which provides limited compensation in the event of work-related injury or death. If their situation is not covered by workers’ compensation (e.g. where the stalker is an ex-intimate non-employee) then the victim can bring a liability suit against his or her employer for injuries resulting from workplace stalking. Employers can be sued for their failure to prevent or minimise the risk or, if the stalker is a fellow employee, for vicarious liability and negligence (Smock, 2003). They may also be sued for negligent hiring or negligent failure to warn the victim about the offending co-worker, particularly if it can be shown that the harm was foreseeable and ‘the employer knew or should have known about the co-worker’s propensities’ (Smock, p. 13). The employer may also be held liable for failure to warn if they do not notify the victim when the stalker is terminated. Victims who are demoted or lose their jobs as a consequence of their stalking ordeal should consult their union or legal adviser. Wrongful dismissal and anti-discrimination laws may offer some protection.

Against the stalker Employers can initiate legal action against employees who engage in stalking or other disruptive behaviour, regardless of the existence of a written workplace policy. In some jurisdictions, employers can obtain a ‘no trespass’ judicial order against the stalker to prevent them physically encroaching on the employer’s property, delivered in the name of the employer and protecting all employees without necessarily specifying the primary victim (Gregorie & Wallace, 2002). Similarly, in some jurisdictions the employer may obtain an injunction against workplace violence and threats that protects all employees, including the victim.

Management of workplace stalking

Again, this can be done without naming the victim (Smock, 2003). Individual restraining orders can prohibit the stalker from attending the victim’s work site and attempting to communicate with the victim or any other employees at the workplace. These orders against a co-worker will be limited in scope where stalker and victim share the same work premises. A more detailed examination of

the benefits and limitations of restraining orders can be found in Chapter 22. Employers and victims can file police reports and pursue criminal charges under anti-stalking statutes that now exist in many parts of the world (see Chapter 23). Even without a successful prosecution, the police report can lend support to the victim in any subsequent criminal injuries compensation claim.

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17 Stalking of health professionals

As if drawn from the National Organ Donor Registry, I became the perfect match, with the potential to save her life; her own personal avatar of amore. Psychiatrist Doreen Orion (1997), of the ex-patient who stalked her

Introduction There is mounting anecdotal and empirical evidence to support the view that healthcare professionals, especially those working in mental health services, have a heightened vulnerability to being stalked by their patients and clients (Galeazzi & de Fazio, 2006). Healthcare professionals are frequently overrepresented in stalking victim populations and there is evidence that female stalkers are particularly likely to target this group (Purcell et al., 2001). While some stalking behaviours constitute little more than minor irritations, they may also ruin a clinician’s career. Tragically, they may even cost some colleagues their lives. This chapter provides an overview of this growing occupational concern, drawing on the extant literature pertaining to stalking and related behaviours perpetrated against health professionals by patients. It then presents strategies that can be used to discourage a patient’s unwanted attentions and minimise the impact of these behaviours on victims’ professional and personal lives. Because there is a lack of empirical data on the efficacy of specific interventions, these management strategies are based on the authors’ collective experience of assessing and treating stalkers and their healthcare practitioner victims.

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Harassment and stalking in healthcare settings The vulnerability of healthcare workers to the unwanted intrusions of their patients is one legacy of a profession that comes into regular contact with lonely and disordered people. In some of these individuals, sympathy and attention is easily misconstrued as romantic interest (Pathé & Mullen, 1993; Pathé et al., 2002). Despite this, little systematic research has been conducted on the abnormal attachments of patients to their clinicians, and it is likely many incidents of stalking remain unreported. This paucity of research relates in part to the nature of the profession. Sandberg and co-workers (1998) postulated that some staff in their study may not have reported stalking behaviours because ‘denial and minimization are common reactions to being the target of patients’ aggressive behavior’. Denial enables clinicians to ignore threats and continue their work (Brown et al., 1996). Health professionals may fear that their victimisation will be equated with incompetence, or, in the current climate of sexual misconduct allegations, that their complaints of harassment will be met with scepticism. In popular depictions of patient–therapist liaisons, the emphasis is usually on the therapist exploiting the patient, with an implication that the imbalance in power precludes the patient from victimising the therapist (Phillips & Schneider, 1993). This is particularly the case for male clinicians treating female patients. Resistance within the criminal justice system to prosecuting patients, especially when the patient is mentally ill (Brown et al., 1996), may also discourage reporting.

Studies of the stalking of health professionals

As noted in Chapter 16, there is mounting awareness of the risks posed in the workplace, with reports of violence, bullying, sexual harassment and stalking. As occupational safety issues in healthcare settings receive greater recognition and priority, it is disturbingly apparent that clinicians cannot claim immunity from these abuses (Grieco, 1987; Richman et al., 1992). The problem of sexual harassment of health professionals by patients has been highlighted (Phillips & Schneider, 1993). Female general practitioners in particular report experiences involving, for example, male patients who repeatedly present with a genital rash that mysteriously vanishes on physical examination (Quayle, 1994). For some doctors, these inappropriate sexual advances may continue despite explanations, confrontations, referral to another practice and even threats of legal action. An American Psychiatric Association Taskforce on Clinician Safety (APA, 1993) reported that approximately 40% of psychiatrists and an even higher proportion of nurses had been assaulted by patients. Miller’s (1985) survey of 850 forensic psychiatrists found that 42% of the 480 respondents had been harassed in some way by patients: 17% reported threats of physical harm, 13% reported non-violent threats (such as a lawsuit) and 3% had been physically assaulted. A study documenting the nature of threats to clinicians (Brown et al., 1996) observed that intimidation could continue after the patient’s discharge from inpatient care.

2. Convenience samples involving studies of specific groups, such as all members of a particular mental health service. 3. Random samples of large populations of health professionals, usually selected from professional registers. Each method of sampling has interest, at this stage in the development of stalking studies, but the random samples of defined populations are the most informative and generalisable.

Case studies In her book I Know You Really Love Me psychiatrist Doreen Orion (1997) provides a harrowing account of her own experience of being stalked by a patient who had briefly been under her care, and the strategies she employed to combat the behaviour. Lion and Herschler (1998) presented nine cases of clinicians stalked by patients. Five of the victims were male psychiatrists (one a resident-in-training), two were female psychiatrists, one a female psychologist and the other a plastic surgeon. One of the psychiatrists in this series ultimately strangled his stalker. Pollock (2001) provided a case report of a 24-year-old female patient who stalked her therapist, focusing on the effectiveness of cognitive analytic therapy (CAT) in remediating her stalking activities.

Convenience samples

Studies of the stalking of health professionals Most research on the stalking of health professionals relates to mental health services. As mental health services are likely to include a higher proportion of patients with a propensity to stalk, these samples may be skewed towards specific types of stalking, limiting their generalisability. Studies of harassment and stalking of health professionals fall into three broad groups on the basis of the study sample: 1. Case studies and case series gathered opportunistically.

Sandberg and colleagues (2002) reported on stalking behaviours experienced by the staff of an inpatient psychiatric facility in the USA. They found threatening, harassing and stalking behaviours by patients to be relatively commonplace, with 53% of clinical staff (n = 33) reporting that they had experienced such conduct. A survey of university counselling centre staff members (Romans et al., 1996) found that 64% of the 178 respondents had experienced some form of harassment from a current or former client; in 10 cases (5.6%) this amounted to stalking, while 8% reported that a family member had been stalked and 10% had had a supervisee stalked. As many as 60% of

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respondents indicated that they lacked formal training to deal with these situations. Pathé and Mullen (1997) found that of their Australian sample of 100 selfreferred stalking victims, health professionals were overrepresented (nine general practitioners, three psychiatrists, two gynaecologists, one rheumatologist, a medical resident, a psychologist, a nurse and an occupational therapist). Buckley and Resnick (cited in Lion & Herschler, 1998), surveying clinicians attending the 1994 annual meeting of the Oregon Psychiatric Society, found 26 of the 90 respondents had been subjected to behaviours that met the authors’ definition of stalking, with 37 reporting other forms of distressing intrusions. McKenna and colleagues (2003) surveyed 1169 nurses who were newly registered in New Zealand in the period 1999–2000 about their experiences of having a patient ‘stalk, monitor or follow them’. Of the 551 respondents, a relatively small proportion (21, 3.8%) reported being stalked in their first year of practice, although nurses working in mental health were far more likely to have experienced stalking than those employed in general medical settings. Galeazzi and colleagues (2005) found high rates of stalking victimisation in their survey of 475 public and private sector mental health professionals in the Italian province of Modena. Of the 361 valid respondents 53% were psychiatric nurses, 30% were psychiatrists, psychologists or residents in psychiatry, and the remaining 17% belonged to other professional disciplines such as art therapists. A third of the sample reported being harassed by a patient on at least one occasion and 11% (20 men and 20 women) had experienced a level of harassment that met the study criteria for stalking (unwanted communications or contacts on more than 10 occasions for a period of more than four weeks, the behaviour producing anxiety.) It was noted that older, male professionals were more likely to be stalked, and in 90% of cases the stalker was a patient under the direct care of the clinician. Stalkers in the Modena study were predominantly single and unemployed, with a median age of 34 years. Diagnostically, 45% had a psychotic illness, 11% had a mood disorder and 37% had a personality disorder (mostly a Cluster B disorder). The median duration of stalking was 42 weeks (range 4–780 weeks), and the

harassment involved intrusive approaches (75%), telephone calls (65%), loitering near the victim (58%), surveillance (48%), letters (33%), following (23%), property ‘violation’ (20%), spreading gossip (15%) and sending unsolicited material (10%). Nine clinicians (23%) claimed they had been threatened: four of these reported threats to their family, five reported damage to their property and three were physically assaulted by their stalker, one of whom was seriously injured. The impact of these behaviours will be considered in a later section.

Random samples The first study to employ a random sample was conducted by Gentile and colleagues (2002). Their sample was obtained from the register of those members of the American Psychological Association working in mental health services. Of the 747 members surveyed, 30 of the 294 respondents (10.2%) reported having been ‘stalked’ by a client, although no explicit definition was given as to what constituted stalking. The study found no differences between victimised and unaffected psychologists in terms of their demographic characteristics or the nature of their professional practice. Harassing clients were however more likely to be female (68%) and without a current intimate relationship (80%). Stalked clinicians diagnosed high rates of mood (62%) and personality disorders (over 75%) among these clients. Like the studies based on convenience samples, Gentile et al. offer a broad indication of the extent of this problem among health professionals, but the generalisability of the findings has been limited by poor response rates, small sample sizes and inconsistent definitions. For example, legal definitions of stalking in most Western jurisdictions, including North America, the UK and Australia, require repeated intrusions (e.g. on two or more occasions) that elicit fear in the recipient (see Chapter 23). Using this definition of stalking would substantially reduce the reported prevalence found by Gentile et al. (2002), as fear was acknowledged by less than half the victimised respondents. Furthermore, little information is provided in the above studies regarding the nature of stalking by

Studies of the stalking of health professionals

clients, in terms of the methods, duration and frequency of stalking and particularly the factors which motivate and sustain such behaviour. More recently, Purcell and others (2005a) examined the extent of stalking victimisation in a large, random sample of registered psychologists. The study also investigated the nature and characteristics of clients who stalk, the characteristics of psychologists principally at risk of this behaviour and the impact of stalking on the occupational functioning of clinicians. Purcell and colleagues (2005a) distributed a postal survey to a randomly selected sample of 1750 psychologists (73% female) registered with the Psychologists’ Registration Board in the Australian State of Victoria (population 4.7 million). The questionnaire covered the psychologist’s demographic and professional practice characteristics (including years of registration, involvement in direct client care and area of specialisation) and the experience of unwanted intrusions by a client (a behavioural definition of stalking was employed rather than the term stalking, to avoid any confusion or preconceptions associated with the term). In addition to harassing behaviours derived from a composite of anti-stalking laws (see Purcell et al., 2004b) an item examining the experience of vexatious complaints or the dissemination of malicious gossip by a client was also included, given anecdotal evidence that this is a unique form of intrusiveness to which professionals are subjected. This study used a conservative definition of stalking, requiring multiple intrusions (at least 10) over a period of two weeks or more. Respondents who endorsed the experience of unwanted intrusions completed further questions including the nature and frequency of the behaviour, their responses to it, characteristics of the perpetrator and the perceived motivation for the pursuit (infatuation, resentment or other). Adjusting for 378 questionnaires returned as undeliverable, the valid response rate in this survey (usable responses) was 60% (n = 830). The lifetime prevalence of being stalked by a client was 19.5% (162), with 8% of psychologists (69) being stalked in the preceding 12 months. Higher rates of victimisation were reported by forensic psychologists (32%), clinical psychologists (24%) and counselling psychologists (20%), compared with educational psychologists (16%), neuropsychologists

(11%) and organisational psychologists (7%). The rates of client stalking were higher among female clinicians (21%) than among males (15%), but this difference did not reach statistical significance. For 76% of stalked subjects the intrusions had ceased, and 6% indicated that the stalking was continuing, while 18% were unsure whether the problem had resolved. Most psychologists reporting stalking by a client were female (79%: 128). The overwhelming majority worked in direct client care (95%: 154). On average, these psychologists had been Board-registered for 11.2 years (SD = 8.6) at the time of the survey, and reported extensive experience in client management (mean 12.0 years, SD 10.0). Years of Board registration and client management at the time of the stalking could only be determined for those psychologists stalked in the 12 months prior to the survey. For this group (n = 69), the mean years of registration was 8.8, with an average of 9.7 years in direct client care. Most stalked psychologists worked in large metropolitan areas (88%: 142), with 12% (20) practising in rural or regional settings. At the time the stalking commenced, 51% (82) of psychologists were employed by state (public) organisations, 25% (41) conducted a private practice from consulting suites, 15% (24) were employed by private (corporate) organisations and 9% (15) operated a private practice from their home. The majority of clients who engaged in stalking behaviours were being seen as outpatients in private or public mental health settings (62%). Five per cent were being treated as inpatients when the stalking first commenced. In 12% of cases, the psychologist was stalked by their client’s relative, usually a current or former intimate partner, spouse or parent. In a further 8% of cases psychologists reported protracted harassment following a single session, usually in the context of a court report or occupational assessment. Clients who stalked were predominantly male (63%), though the number of female stalkers (37%) was strikingly high. Almost half (47%) were judged by the psychologist to be mentally disordered when the stalking occurred, the most common diagnoses being personality disorder (50%), psychosis (27%) or other Axis I disorder (23%). In 17% of cases the psychologist was unsure as to the client’s mental state when the stalking occurred, and

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35% indicated no mental illness in the harasser. On average, clients commenced their stalking activities within six months of the professional relationship being established (with a range of one day to 15 years). In 44% of cases psychologists were stalked by a client of the same gender. Male clinicians were significantly more likely to experience same-gender stalking. The majority of psychologists perceived their client’s behaviour to be motivated by resentment (42%). Commonly reported precipitants in this regard involved retaliation for perceived adverse effects arising from the professional’s duties, for example the reporting of suspected child abuse, the provision of adverse reports (especially for child custody hearings), challenging clients’ adverse health behaviours (e.g. substance abuse) or the failure to provide recommendations sought by the client (e.g. in relation to couple therapy or employment suitability). Resentment following the termination of the professional relationship was also commonly reported, with numerous clinicians disclosing persistent angry confrontations by clients unhappy that the therapeutic relationship could not continue, either due to the psychologist’s circumstances (e.g. change of employment) or the client’s inappropriate behaviour. Infatuation was felt to be the motivation for the client’s intrusions in 19% of cases. Most of these involved overt declarations of affection by clients said, almost universally, to have ‘poor boundaries’. Rejection by the clinician precipitated immediate outbursts of violence in a handful of cases, followed by extended periods of stalking. In fewer cases psychologists indicated that clients were craving empathy or acceptance, often in the context of histories of significant abuse and trauma. A further 17% of cases involved ‘other’ motivations for the client’s stalking intrusions, including boredom, loneliness, ‘testing’ the limits of the psychologist’s tolerance and several instances involving persistent interference by relatives seeking to influence the client’s treatment. One in five psychologists was unable to proffer a motivation for the client’s intrusions. There was no association between the perceived motivations for stalking and the clinician’s gender, or the client’s gender or mental health status. Perceived motivations did not differ significantly according to specialisation,

but 100% of stalked forensic psychologists were pursued by a resentful client, and 42% of stalked clinical psychologists were pursued by infatuated clients. Stalking ranged in duration from two weeks to a maximum of five years, with the pursuit lasting less than a month in 26% of cases. More than half of all affected psychologists were stalked for between one and six months, and 12% for a year or more. The duration of stalking did not differ according to the psychologists’ gender or specialisation. However, the duration was significantly longer in those clients motivated by infatuation (median 6 months, range 14 days to 5 years) than resentment (median 2 months, range 14 days to 3 years). Most psychologists were subjected to several methods of harassment. The most common methods involved intrusive telephone calls (65%), unwanted approaches (58%) and loitering nearby (43%). A third of the stalked psychologists were subjected to vexatious complaints (most often to the registration board) or the dissemination of malicious gossip. Other relatively common experiences included the receipt of unsolicited letters, faxes or email (31%), and being kept under surveillance (23%) and followed (20%). Fewer psychologists had received offensive materials (9%) or other unsolicited goods (3%) from clients. For a quarter of the victim sample the harassment was confined to one method only (usually phone calls), with 47% experiencing two or three forms of harassment, 18% four or five forms, and 11% subjected to six or more distinct forms of intrusiveness. Infatuated clients used significantly more methods of intrusion than clients motivated by resentment. For over a third of stalked psychologists in this study the intrusions were accompanied by explicit threats. These included threats to harm and in some cases to kill the practitioner or to ruin their practice. Three clients brandished knives at the psychologists’ practices, one of whom threatened to cut the psychologist’s throat. In 17% of cases explicit threats were directed to third parties, typically colleagues of the psychologist or reception staff, though several spouses of psychologists were also directly threatened with harm. Almost one in 10 psychologists was assaulted during the course of the stalking, the assaults ranging from pushing, slapping

The impact of stalking on healthcare professionals

and hitting, to three cases of attempted strangulation. Few attacks resulted in injury, though several cases of abrasions and severe bruising were reported and one psychologist sustained a fractured wrist in an assault. In nine cases (6%), another party was assaulted, usually the spouse or co-worker of the psychologist. Property damage occurred in 13% of cases, usually directed at the psychologist’s car (e.g. scratched paintwork, smashed windows and slashed tyres). In several cases the psychologist’s office was vandalised or burgled, and one clinician’s office was burned in an arson attack. There were no reported instances of damage to the clinician’s private residence. The rates of threats and assaults did not differ according to psychologist’s specialisation or gender, the motivation for stalking, or the gender and mental health status of the client. While only 20% of psychologists who were threatened were also assaulted, 86% of those attacked had at some time been threatened. Virtually all stalked psychologists sought assistance to manage their harassment, usually from work colleagues (86%) or family and friends (60%). A quarter reported the harassment to the police, and 10% alerted their professional indemnity insurer. Some 19% consulted a lawyer and 18% sought professional assistance from a health professional. The majority of stalked psychologists (75%) reported that their training and education did not adequately prepare them for this situation, with numerous respondents remarking on the absence of critical discussion in postgraduate programmes of the potential for adverse events associated with client care. Recently the Royal College of Psychiatrists has completed a study of the experience of being stalked among their members (Whyte et al., 2008 and in preparation). This represents the most comprehensive study to date of the stalking of health professionals. Nearly 3000 psychiatrists completed questionnaires on their experience of being stalked. The reported frequency of being stalked varied, as would be expected, with the definition applied. Using the broad definition of two or more intrusions occasioning fear, a third qualified as stalking victims over their lifetime. Using a conservative definition of 10 or more intrusions over longer than two weeks, the rate dropped to some 10%. Employing

the victim’s self-attribution of being stalked, a level of 21% was obtained. The stalking behaviours reported most frequently were letters/emails, phone calls and unwanted approaches. Physical and sexual assaults were not uncommon. Vexatious complaints were prominent, as with the psychologists studied by Purcell and colleagues (2005a). Over half the stakers were female; most were patients, but 7% were relatives of the patient. The duration of stalking exceeded a year in well over half the cases. Considerable damage was experienced by the victims, with anxiety and sleep disturbance topping the list of psychological impacts, and increased security, altered daily routines and changing jobs being prominent among the sequelae. Less than half of the victims appear to have transferred the care of their stalker to another psychiatrist. Even more concerning is that a high proportion chose to confront their stalker. Taking the results of all these studies together, they point to the persistent stalking of health professionals by patients and their relatives being a significant professional hazard. The professional bodies representing health professionals, and those employing them, clearly have a responsibility to provide education and tangible support to professionals to minimise both the risks of being stalked and the risks of being damaged by such behaviour.

The impact of stalking on healthcare professionals While some stalking behaviours prove little more than a minor nuisance or embarrassment, clinical experience indicates that more serious cases have the potential to ruin careers and destroy lives. Sandberg and others (1998) noted that the harassing behaviours of their subjects had a disruptive impact on hospital staff, and consequently the functioning of the hospital. Staff became more vigilant, and modified aspects of their work practices and lifestyle to ensure their safety. Some even changed their place of residence. Smoyak (2003), in a small and selective survey of psychiatric nurses, similarly found that those subjected to stalking felt less confident and outgoing, with a significant

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minority (15–20%) reporting depression, sleeplessness and irritability. Brown and others (1996) similarly highlighted the disruption created in the professional and personal lives of physicians who experienced threats. Examples included modifying their treatment style or refusing certain referrals, reducing their practice size, and imposing restrictions on family activities. Some expressed guilt for the stress that was brought to bear on their families. Many of the doctors who participated in Pathé and Mullen’s victim survey (1997) said that nothing in their medical training had prepared them for this and they had emerged feeling frustrated, helpless and disenchanted with their profession. The survey by Purcell and colleagues (2005a) also highlighted the disruption caused, both personally and professionally, when psychologists are stalked by their clients. Over 40% of the stalked psychologists said they experienced fear, and 70% reported anxiety and anger. Over 70% modified aspects of their professional and personal routines as a consequence of the stalking, typically bolstering security at their workplace (50%), and home (36%). In response to the stalking 21% changed their home telephone number and 4% their work telephone number. Ten clinicians (6%) actually relocated their practice to escape the intrusions and six (4%) changed their residential address. Work absenteeism was reported by 19% of stalked psychologists, 70% of whom lost 2–7 working days, though four practitioners reported extended periods of stress leave (of several months or more). One in 10 stalked psychologists curtailed their social outings in an effort to avoid further encounters with their client. Almost a third said they had considered leaving the profession as a result of this experience. This decision was more often contemplated by psychologists subjected to malicious gossip and vexatious complaints (47%) than by those who did not report these experiences (21%). While the number of psychologists who have ultimately abandoned their career as a result of client stalking could not be determined (as the sample consisted only of current Boardregistered practitioners), several respondents claimed to have transferred to non-clinical practices in light of their ordeal.

The predominant emotional responses of mental health professionals in the Italian study (Galeazzi et al., 2005) were fear, anger and helplessness. Many modified their lifestyle or professional functioning in response to the stalking, increasing security measures and other precautions, while two relocated their practice and one moved house. Three of the respondents admitted that they had considered changing professions as a consequence of their experience. The impact of complaints by the stalker to professional boards, health ombudsmen and other agencies of accountability can be devastating. In the nature of complaints management processes employed by such organisations is an approach which, at least initially, takes the complaint at face value and demands of the professional a ‘please explain’ response. This reflects a routine institutional response untouched by the personal, which is understandable from the mandate of such organisations. For the targeted professional, however, it may be anything but routine. It tends to be experienced as personal, implicitly critical, and as endowing the vexatious complaint with an unjustified status and probity. This often evokes distress but, potentially worse still, indignation and a sense of being persecuted – not by the stalker, but by the agent of accountability. These responses can cloud the professional’s judgement about how best to manage their response. Angry, affronted rejoinders are counterproductive, if for no other reason than because that is how practitioners against whom entirely justified complaints have been laid typically respond. Conversely, we have commonly encountered misplaced mea culpas from practitioners who are victims of vexatious complaints from stalkers, with acceptance of personal events which were beyond the clinician’s control, or giving credence to malicious interpretations of mundane or well-intentioned actions. CASE EXAMPLE Dr Rossiter is a 38-year-old married psychologist who sought our advice after receiving threats from a former client, Mr King. Mr King was contesting the custody of his 11- and 13-year-old daughters and Dr Rossiter had assessed him for the upcoming Family Court hearing. Mr King had in the past been investigated for indecently assaulting his older daughter. Dr Rossiter quite

Patterns of stalking of health professionals

reasonably formed the opinion that all future contact with his daughters should be supervised, and she also recommended that Mr King should seek counselling. Her assessment infuriated Mr King, who presented at her rooms demanding she amend the report and kicking the door when the receptionist refused him entry. He then phoned her rooms repeatedly, threatening to report her to the Psychologists’ Registration Board and the Health Complaints Commissioner. He sent her exhaustive letters and emails outlining the ‘lies’ in her report and challenging her credentials. He made veiled threats to harm her children. Dr Rossiter tried to reason with Mr King, and she even waived her fee in the hope that he would desist, but he proceeded with a formal complaint to the Psychologists’ Board alleging gross incompetence and breach of privacy. Dr Rossiter obtained legal representation, and after a formal hearing and a process that spanned eight months the complaint was eventually dismissed. Mr King seemed to lose interest after this time and the phone calls and letters tapered off. The cost to Dr Rossiter had, however, been considerable. She had drastically curtailed her civil forensic work, her major source of income, because she felt unable to cope with another adverse outcome. She admitted also that her professional confidence had suffered, and she believed that the Board and some of her colleagues now questioned her competence. She had installed additional security in her rooms, at substantial expense, and although Mr King never contacted her at home the threats to her family had prompted greater vigilance and extra security measures there. She even withdrew her 15-year-old son from school after discovering Mr King’s children were also enrolled there, disrupting his studies and social ties. Dr Rossiter had always taken considerable pride in her career, and was well regarded in forensic circles. Mr King’s relentless campaign had a profound and far-reaching impact on many aspects of her life. She has since abandoned her clinical practice and has embarked on a full-time management course.

Patterns of stalking of health professionals The work of Purcell and colleagues (2005a) and Whyte and colleagues (2008 and in preparation) provides the clearest picture to date of the stalking of healthcare professionals. These studies suggest annual rates of between 5 and 8%, with lifetime risks of some 20%, though again it must be borne in mind that those working in the mental health sector are more likely than other healthcare professionals to encounter patients prone to engage in stalking behaviours. As would be

expected, those who stalk mental health professionals are more likely to have serious mental disorders than stalkers in general, if for no other reason than that they are derived from a mentally disordered population. The differences in diagnostics between the studies that have been conducted to date most likely reflect the different patient populations seen by the professionals studied. The only notable feature is that, like stalkers in other contexts, they are preferentially drawn from the socially inept and isolated. Of note also is that studies of health professionals have failed to replicate the gender differences in stalkers and victims that have been consistently reported in community studies (see Chapter 3). Health professionals are not more likely to be stalked by males, and being male confers no particular protection against this behaviour. The risks of threats and assault are similar to that found in the general population studies, though there is a suggestion that health professionals have a greater likelihood of encountering serious violence and significant property damage. Stalking behaviours are the product of a number of different motivations and states of mind (Mullen et al., 1999). The two most common motivations for stalking clinicians are: 1. Patients who develop romantic or child-like attachments that lead them to entertain the prospect of a relationship. 2. Patients who develop a resentment against the professional, usually connected to some supposed injury or dereliction.

Romantic and child-like attachments These hopes may arise on the basis of delusional beliefs (as in erotomania), misplaced expectations in the lonely and desperate, or simply the unrealistic expectations of a would-be suitor. The last group is typically drawn from the socially incompetent or narcissistically selfabsorbed. Focused attention and concern is almost universal in therapy and, for many of our patients, the only prior experience of such attention and concern will have been from mothers and lovers, and then for some only briefly and conditionally. Equally common in therapy is the appearance of sympathy, as in empathy, and

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unconditional acceptance, if not of the patient’s behaviour, at least of them as a person. Some therapists cultivate an interpersonal style which could be cruelly, but accurately, described as seductive. Given such a context, it is not to be wondered at that the therapeutic relationship can and does invoke in many patients a sense of intimacy with the therapist which may be experienced for some in terms of love and affection. Equally, when the implicit promises are not honoured, or not honoured quickly enough, or when a long-term treatment relationship is terminated, the therapeutic endeavour may produce disappointment and a sense of rejection and even humiliation, forming a basis for rejected stalking patterns. The emergence of both feelings of affection and of betrayal in the therapeutic relationship cannot be reduced just to transference phenomena, though they may be coloured by such processes. The attention, concern and implicit commitment to and for the patient in the therapeutic engagement are usually real aspects of the here and now, as is the raising of over-hopeful expectations and their disappointment. The therapeutic engagement does for the patient often evoke past experiences and even the reliving of some past relationships. Such transference is more marked in therapeutic encounters which are relatively unstructured, or structured in such a manner as to facilitate the patient’s freedom to determine the content of sessions. Such transference phenomena do not, however, explain in its entirety the emergence in therapy of love and hate, or their attenuated shadows, lust and resentment. This is important because however skilled a therapist is in recognising and managing those transferred emotions there remains a dilemma for the patient in the real feelings evoked in this concrete situation of the therapy. Training may assist in managing such conflicts and dissonance, but they reflect the patient’s reactions to a real situation, and those reactions will be determined in no small part by the characteristics of the patient. Most of the mental health professionals in the Italian survey (Galeazzi et al., 2005) and nearly one in five psychologists who had been stalked by a client in the Australian survey (Purcell et al., 2005a) acknowledged infatuation as the primary motivation. Clients in the latter study were considered by their victims to have

‘poor boundaries’, as evidenced by inappropriate personal questions about the clinician or avowals of romantic or sexual interest. A number of these psychologists responded by simply ignoring the client’s advances, only to develop a growing sense of unease in the professional relationship. In contrast, several psychologists who reported having explicitly rejected their client’s advances were subsequently exposed to angry outbursts including, on occasion, threats and assaults. Meloy’s (1999) conceptualisation of stalking as a disorder of abnormal attachment, characterised by the stalker’s disintegration of the boundaries between themselves and the objects of their attention, appears particularly relevant to those instances of client stalking motivated by infatuation.

Resentment against the professional The angry resentful stalker is a particular problem for the health professional. The resentment can be triggered by a variety of conflict situations, from unwelcome confrontations over such matters as substance abuse, through to a refusal to support with reports or letters the patient’s wishes in regard to such matters as work injury claims or child custody. For the psychiatrist, both the prescribing of, and the refusal to prescribe, particular medications can form the basis for the grievance which sets the stalking in motion. Five of the mental health professionals surveyed by Galeazzi and coworkers (2005) indicated that their stalker appeared to be avenging a perceived wrong (in one case, the clinician had refused to support the patient’s application for a disability pension). Clinical experience suggests that certain medical specialities such as plastic and orthopaedic surgery may be at particular risk of becoming the focus of resentful individuals who feel wronged, mistreated or misshaped. Purcell and colleagues (2005a) found those who practised in the forensic arena were most vulnerable to resentful patterns of stalking, which arose in the context of having provided (from the client’s point of view) unfavourable court reports, usually pertaining to child custody assessments. Clinical and counselling psychologists were also found to be at risk of resentful stalking, often precipitated by mandatory reporting of suspected

Management strategies

child abuse, the provision of unwelcome relationship advice and challenging clients’ adverse health behaviours (e.g. substance abuse). This study also noted that while resentful patterns of stalking were likely to be relatively short-lived and largely confined to harassing phone calls, unwanted approaches and vexatious complaints, they were frequently accompanied by explicit threats, a factor previously shown to be associated with increased psychological morbidity among victims of stalking (Pathé & Mullen, 1997).

Management strategies Being stalked is not the fault of the health professional. Too often in the past therapists who fell victim to stalking by patients had to bear the additional burden of implied or overt criticism from colleagues to the effect that, had they more adroitly managed the therapeutic encounter and the resultant transference, they would not now find themselves in this predicament. We have no sympathy with blaming the victim, even if it comes in the guise of technical advice or supervision. Being stalked is a risk inherent in the therapeutic process. We owe our colleagues support and help, if for no other reason than we do not know when it may be our turn to face the pursuit of the vengeful or lustful patient (Mullen and Purcell, 2007). The tendency for stalking victims in general to blame themselves is even more prevalent among health professional victims, but to accept personal responsibility for events which were outside the therapist’s control, or to give credence to malicious interpretations of wellintentioned actions, is an error. Some resentful stalkers will focus their complaints where the therapist experiences themselves most vulnerable, with that unnerving capacity found among some patients to discern the therapist’s own particular weaknesses and sensitivities. This can intensify the therapist’s pre-existing tendencies to self-doubt, and can even lead them into accepting the malevolent interpretations placed on their words and actions by the resentful patient. That there is often a kernel of truth in the stalker’s complaints does not mean the construction of accusations and imprecations with which they have invested the small truth should be

treated with anything but the contempt it deserves. When facing malicious complaints, the professional’s first and only responsibility is to their professional integrity and reputation. The time for understanding is past, the generosity of looking on both sides of the question is no longer appropriate; it is now a matter of surviving with as little damage as possible. Many health professionals have, or feel they are expected to have, a high tolerance for the criminal behaviour of patients, even when it induces fear and disrupts the lives of practitioners and their families. We believe such tolerance is misplaced, in the interests of both the clinician’s health and the patient’s longterm interests. Management strategies for stalking victims generally are detailed in Chapter 22, and the management of workplace stalking has been discussed in Chapter 16. In the healthcare setting, a number of strategies can be used to discourage a patient’s unwanted intrusions and to minimise their impact on all concerned. The appropriate strategy depends on the stage the stalking has reached.

Preventive strategies Stalking emerges, in our experience, on the basis of a vulnerability in the patient which may only become manifest with the stalking. This vulnerability may be triggered by a wide range of therapist actions and reactions, most of which could have been helpful or innocuous in the vast majority of patients. While there are some signs that can warn us of a patient’s potential for stalking, such signs are hardly specific and very few of our patients who are, for instance, lonely, socially incompetent, sensitive, self-referential or self-absorbed will stalk, however attached in fantasy they become to their therapists. Suspicious, litigious individuals, ambivalent or rejecting of therapy, who combine grandiose entitlement with a corrosive ressentiment, are at risk of resentful stalking. Here again, however, the attributes are far from rare, and though nearly all patients are likely to be difficult, few will resort to actual stalking – and, if they do, their therapist is not the most likely target. Studies to date suggest that most stalked health professionals are relatively experienced clinicians. The psychologists surveyed by Purcell and colleagues

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(2005a) averaged eight years’ Board registration and an equivalent period of direct client care at the time the stalking occurred. Inexperience seemed to be a less pertinent contributing factor than a lack of preparation and resources to effectively respond to instances of client harassment. Incorporating information regarding the risks of stalking into the training curricula of the various health disciplines would enable practitioners to implement appropriate preventive strategies and facilitate earlier recognition and effective intervention in situations where these behaviours emerge. It is crucial that health practitioners take steps to protect their privacy. They should be cautious about disclosing personal details to their patients or clients or leaving personal information where patients can access it. They should avoid divulging home contact details to professional organisations or registries that appear in the public domain. Office security is an essential consideration. Clinicians who practise in relative isolation without the support staff available in group practices or hospital outpatient departments are precariously placed to manage patients with a history of stalking or other threatening behaviours. It is wise to arrange a chaperone for physical examinations and, if the patient objects, to document this in the patient’s file. A clinician who is concerned about possible stalking behaviours by a patient should at the very least endeavour to see the patient when other staff are nearby (Large & Johnston, 2000). As illustrated in the above case example, furnishing unfavorable opinions or reports is a professional obligation that undoubtedly contributes to the vulnerability of forensic practitioners in particular to being stalked. Those who undertake such work should endeavour to establish realistic client expectations regarding assessment outcomes. This should be provided in writing to the client prior to any evaluation.

The first threat or declaration of love Stalking behaviours may have a sudden onset, or they can emerge more gradually. Apparently appropriate behaviours may be the harbingers of stalking, such as scheduling more frequent therapy sessions, phoning ostensibly for clarification of some aspect of

treatment, or ‘chance’ encounters outside the surgery. Alternatively, stalking may be suddenly and unexpectedly heralded by a threat, complaint or declaration of love. Clinicians typically respond uncomfortably to such decrees, tendering polite disclaimers of interest on the basis of the professional nature of the relationship. Patients may well respond by discharging themselves from the practice, hoping to eliminate the only perceived obstacle to the relationship they desire. Of greater concern are clinicians who reject any notion of an intimate relationship with the patient on the grounds that they already have a partner. This sends a message to some patients that the spouse or partner is the only obstacle to a romantic union with their therapist, with potentially dangerous repercussions. One such patient tampered with the car driven by her psychiatrist’s wife. She admitted that her intention was not to kill her rival but to ‘paralyse her, so he would have to divorce her’. Stalking behaviours will be more readily recognised, and their emergence may be prevented, when clinicians set clear boundaries for appropriate behaviour in their patients (Green, 1988; Gutheil & Gabbard, 1993; Farber et al., 1997). It is important to state that their relationship is, and will only ever be, a professional one. While this message should be firm and unequivocal, the clinician must endeavor to preserve the patient’s dignity, lest they give the patient further reasons, particularly anger and resentment, to continue their harassment.

The early stages of stalking It is reasonable to confront the patient and set limits by restricting the duration and frequency of appointments and any other behaviours that are aimed at maximising contact with the doctor. However, this approach has most chance of succeeding with the socially incompetent would-be suitor. Stalkers driven by morbid infatuation or resentment seldom respond to these measures alone. If a patient’s intrusions continue despite the clinician’s warning, particularly when the behaviour persists beyond two weeks, there is a substantial risk of protracted harassment (Purcell et al., 2002). In these

Management strategies

circumstances, the clinician is ill-advised to continue the therapeutic relationship. Termination should only occur after consulting with colleagues and deciding on a course of action. The interview with the stalker is not the context in which to decide how you should act, but the time to share your decisions with the stalker. If the intrusions are of a nature to raise concerns about the clinician’s safety it is perfectly appropriate to see the patient in the company of a colleague, ideally the one who will be taking over the patient’s management. Usually the best course of action is to: 1. Inform the patient their intrusions have created concern and distress to you; 2. Inform them that as a result their care is to be transferred to a colleague; 3. Make clear that there will be no further involvement by you in their care and no further contact or communications. Emphasise that continued attempts to intrude with unwanted contacts or communications will potentially result in their being criminally prosecuted; 4. Express, if appropriate, regret that it has ended like this. Do not debate the details. Do not apologise. Keep the ‘no future contact’ unambiguous. Any ongoing communication or negotiation by you or a third party will only reward the patient’s efforts to maintain contact. Transferring such patients can be difficult (Lion & Herschler, 1998), both because of medicolegal abandonment implications and because prospective physicians may be understandably wary of accepting them. It is essential to document the termination process. In some instances it may be necessary to defuse the situation by hospitalising the patient. It is essential that the clinician carefully documents each incident, noting the time and date, a synopsis of the behaviour and the names of any witnesses. These records should be kept in a secure place, as they can be invaluable in any future legal proceedings. The victim should also retain any concrete evidence of the stalking, such as answering-machine messages, gifts and letters. Correspondence should not be returned, as this perpetuates contact between victim and stalker and vital evidence is lost.

Professionals who suspect that they are being stalked should share their concerns with a colleague. This performs two functions. The first is obtaining what will hopefully be a set of more detached responses to what is occurring, which may be reassuring but more usually reinforce the suspicions that stalking is occurring. The second is to apprise the professional’s co-workers of these developments and thereby facilitate their provision of practical, professional and personal support. Those working in mental health teams or group practices will usually have little problem in enlisting the support of colleagues in these situations. Solo or otherwise isolated practitioners are in a far more vulnerable position, which makes the sharing of information with colleagues all the more important. If the lone practitioner does not have a formal or informal peer support group they should discuss the situation with a colleague in whom they have confidence or a psychiatrist familiar with these issues. Other staff at the doctor’s practice, particularly receptionists, must be apprised so that they do not inadvertently countenance the patient’s pursuit and so that they can adopt personal safety precautions. Spouses and other family members should be informed for similar reasons. In one of our cases, a doctor who did not inform his partner about a patient who was stalking him learnt subsequently that this man had made contact with her at the university and was in the process of enrolling in one of her seminars. In another case, the partner first learned of the stalking, which had been going on for six months, when their home was set on fire.

Established stalking Stalking is a criminal offence and cases that do not respond to the above measures warrant a police report. This is particularly important when stalking involves threats or violence, or where there is a known history of sexual or physical aggression. Morbidly infatuated stalkers generally have a low incidence of threatening and violent behaviour, and, although resentful stalkers often issue threats, they seldom proceed to actual personal violence (Mullen et al., 1999). Nevertheless, threats should never be disregarded, particularly in a

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stalking context, and the clinician must take precautions to ensure his or her personal safety and the safety of others who may be at risk. If the stalker threatens to initiate spurious legal action against the practitioner, or there is a likelihood of future action, the doctor’s medical defence organisation should be alerted. Restraining orders or protective injunctions are frequently advised in stalking situations, but are not universally effective (Meloy et al., 1997; Pathé et al., 2001). Erotomanic patients are likely to be impervious to legal sanctions, although these are often useful in dissuading the socially incompetent and less entrenched resentful stalkers. Erotomanic stalking patterns will not subside without definitive treatment, and referral for psychiatric evaluation is a priority. It must be stressed that any escalation in stalking behaviours, particularly when it involves threats and overt hostility, should not be ignored or ‘worked through’ in therapy. Threats are indications to seek advice. If a patient poses an immediate risk of harm to the therapist, he or she may require civil commitment or, for patients who are not mentally ill, prosecution under anti-stalking statutes.

The risk to subsequent health professionals Not all patients who have stalked their clinician are at high risk of repeating the behaviour. Intimacyseeking stalkers have usually made an absolute commitment, and even when they can be induced to give up stalking they usually retain a nostalgic attachment to the lost love object. These stalkers are unlikely to move on to a new target except when the pathology of love is secondary to a schizophrenic disorder (see Chapter 8). Those with a schizophrenic syndrome, particularly of the disorganised variety, may shift their unwanted attentions to a new therapist, sometimes insisting that the new is the old in disguise or reincarnated. Resentful stalkers are less predictable, particularly if they have stalked a health professional more as a representative of a corrupt system than out of specific

and personal animus. In such cases, extreme care has to be taken not to allow conflict to re-emerge in the new therapeutic context. In our service we attempt to manage such individuals by using co-therapists or even by involving several principal therapists, to avoid the focusing of animosity on a single worker. Our experience over the last decade of assessing and managing over 200 stalkers is that they rarely harass or stalk our staff. However, of the handful who become nuisances, or have engaged in more prolonged stalking, nearly all came from the subpopulation referred because they were stalking mental health professionals. Many of them had histories of serial stalking, having targeted more than one victim.

Conclusions Clinical experience and studies of health professionals indicate that it is not uncommon for workers in the healthcare industry to experience brief intrusions by a client which cause fear, behaviour which is sufficient in most Western jurisdictions to meet the broad legal criteria for stalking. What is more disconcerting is the tendency for a significant minority of clients to engage in longer campaigns of stalking, lasting weeks, months or even years, with therapists whose work involves high levels of direct client care. In studying stalking, we are constantly seeking more effective ways of identifying and protecting the victims. At a time when healthcare resources are a widespread concern, phenomena with the potential to end clinical careers cannot be ignored. While research continues into the extent and nature of this problem among the health professions, consideration must also be given to developing empirically based management strategies and formulating workplace policies. Greater emphasis must be placed on incorporating this knowledge into the training curricula of the healthcare professions, so that clinicians are less confused about their responsibilities, less inclined to ascribe these experiences to their own shortcomings, and more likely to obtain definitive help before their lives (and often those of their patients) are devastated.

18 Stalking celebrities and other public figures

Introduction The pursuit and harassment of public figures such as heads of state, prominent politicians and stars of television and film has a special place in the history of stalking. Stalking acquired the name from journalists, who used the term to cover the repeated intrusions on celebrities. Celebrity or ‘star stalking’ was the beginning, and the first ever systematic study of stalking focused to a considerable extent on the pursuit of celebrities (Zona et al., 1993). The stalking of famous people remains a preoccupation both of the media and of those private and public security agencies who provide protection to the socially prominent.

Public figures and the definition of stalking In applying the concept of stalking to repeated inappropriate attempts to communicate or make contact with a public figure, the definition of stalking needs to be modified, or at least stretched. The criterion of inducing fear or distress in the target of the unwanted communications or approaches becomes meaningless for those in very prominent positions. The US President, a royal sovereign, or even a lowly prime minister, will never be made aware of the vast majority of such pursuers. They cannot therefore have any concern as a result of the behaviour. The apprehension has to be transferred to their protective services. Equally, the concerns of those protective services may be as much about embarrassment or untoward publicity for their

principal as about danger, or more mundane forms of distress. In the context of a public figure the term stalking requires a definition such as: Repeated attempts to make inappropriate communications or contact in a manner which creates legitimate concerns and/ or fear either in the public figure or in those who protect them.

Prevalence Those in high-profile positions of power and influence inevitably attract the unwanted attentions of a wide range of their fellow citizens. It is redundant to ask, for example, if the Queen of England or the President of the USA are ever stalked. The meaningful question is how many stalkers they attract and how great are the problems those stalkers create. The answers are in the hundreds, and considerable (Fein & Vossekuil, 1998; Scalora et al., 2002a, 2002b, 2003; James et al., 2008; Mullen et al., in press). The frequency with which other public figures receive such unwanted attention is to date relatively poorly documented. A study of public figures in the Netherlands suggested that a third had been stalked as a result of their public roles, with many suffering long periods of harassment (Malsch et al., 2002). A similar study of television personalities in Germany reported that 79% had been stalked, with the majority attracting multiple stalkers (Hoffmann & Sheridan, 2005). In this study 63% of the celebrities had been directly approached by a stalker, though only one was physically attacked.

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Public figures and stalking types Public figures attract the unwanted attentions of both those who are seeking intimacy and those who are expressing resentment, as well as a mixed bag of publicity seekers, predators and general pests. The nature of being a public figure and a source of celebrity or power, or both, creates a very particular group of relationships between stalker and victim. The intimacy-seeking stalker may be focusing their hopes for romance on a celebrity target in much the same way that such stalkers become amorously attached to those in their immediate environment. Celebrity stalkers may, however, be seeking a confiding friendship rather than an erotic or romantic relationship. These amity seekers imagine themselves the confidants and counsellors of the famous (Mullen et al., in press). In broad terms, celebrity attracts the amorous fixations, and power attracts the amity seekers, with those who combine celebrity and power, like American presidents and British royalty, attracting both. The resentful stalkers who pursue the famous are also different from their more mundane compatriots who are seeking revenge against individuals who have slighted or otherwise offended them in their daily lives. Resentful stalkers of public figure may on occasion have focused their anger on a prominent figure they hold personally responsible for their problems. Equally, however, they may see in the public figure the solution to their troubles. They stalk initially requesting, or more usually demanding, that the public figure support them in their cause. Equally importantly, they usually also insist that the public figure should use his or her position to publicly vindicate the stalker’s struggle by making clear its social importance. The common or garden variety resentful stalker harbours ordinary animus about personal insults and injustices. The resentful pursuer of a public figure has typically expanded the grievances from personal injuries into injustices of supposedly epic proportions. They believe they are seeking not just personal revenge but the public good. If the support they believe is their due is not forthcoming from the public figure, supplication can rapidly be transformed into angry remonstrance.

The shift from seeking intimacy to rage at rejection, or from requesting aid to angry recrimination, is found not infrequently in the stalkers of public figures. The most stable of the public-figure stalkers are those seeking, or asserting, a romantic relationship. This group are usually, though not always, secure in their belief in the emerging intimacy and have no reason to do other than express their affection, or remind their target of their mutual love. Less predictable are the amity seekers, who are sensitive to rejection or indifference as they have come to believe they are now entitled to reciprocal concern and loyalty. In the resentful stalkers of public figures, those initially seeking assistance and support can over time become frustrated with the lack of tangible help from their chosen saviour, and may start seeing the public figure not as the solution to their predicament but as the source of those difficulties. Interestingly, however, many of those who stalk public figures in search of support for their quests will remain content with the bland letters thanking them for their interest or enquiry. Such letters, in proforma similarity, emanate from the offices of the prominent like confetti. Others will, unfortunately, interpret the same letters as binding promises of active support, setting the stage for later problems.

Mental illness and the stalking of public figures The prominent and powerful have presumably always attracted unwanted attention from the repeated intrusions of petitioners, would-be counsellors, the aggrieved, and those who have made them the object of disordered affections. The level of psychopathology among those who stalk public figures may well be higher than in other groups of stalkers. Certainly the level of serious mental illness among those who plague royalty and politicians has been repeatedly remarked upon. The anonymous author of Sketches in Bedlam (1823) wrote of ‘a class of lunatic visitors who were … so assiduous and troublesome in their visits to Buckingham House and in their endeavours to gain admission there’ (pp. 164–5). These unfortunates eventually did gain admission, but to Bedlam, not the royal residence.

The risks particular to public figures

The Intelligencer, a Washington newspaper, in its edition of 21 April 1835 noted a similar tendency: ‘It is a notorious fact that this city being the centre of government, is liable to be visited by more than its proportion of insane persons’ (quoted in Hoffman, 1943).

Public figures and security Public figures usually have barriers around them which filter attempts at direct contact or communication. Phoning the famous is likely, at best, to reach a personal assistant. Minor celebrities may open their own mail, but the truly famous and those in positions of power and influence will usually have services to monitor such communications. Politicians, at least those below presidential or prime-ministerial levels, are, however, traditionally available for direct contact and communication through appointments at the parliament or congress, and at clinics in their constituency or district. Paradoxically it may be easier to see a political representative in person than to communicate directly with them by phone, letter or email. This is an important part of a representative democracy, but one which potentially increases the risk of encouraging unrealistic expectations in some disordered individuals. It would be a tragedy if our political representatives ever from fear withdrew totally behind protective barriers. Preventing the victory of fear and the triumph of security is in part about the better management of risk, including the risks presented by stalkers.

The risks particular to public figures Stalkers can impact differently on public figures than on the rest of us. Most obviously this reflects the higher risks of attracting a stalker, and for the truly famous a number of stalkers. It also reflects the greater level of protection available to many, though not all, prominent people. Jill Dando, for example, a British television personality, despite being plagued by numerous stalkers had little protection outside the immediate work situation, and certainly not a level of protection which prevented the fatal attack by one of those

stalkers in 1999. Only the foremost celebrities can afford 24-hour protection, and not all who could avail themselves of such services are prepared to limit their lives and subordinate the spontaneity of normal life to the dictates of security. Public figures and celebrities, in addition to sharing the risks of all stalking victims in terms of fear, curtailing social activities and the threat of assault, can have additional vulnerabilities, including the following: 1. They may suffer public embarrassment, which can be created both by public incursions and by misinformation spread both by intimacy seekers and the resentful. 2. They can attract stalkers not because of who they are but because of what they symbolise. Such stalkers can be particularly problematic if they have focused all their anger at the world on what they see as the embodiment of these evils. 3. Living in the public eye adds the problem that the actions of one stalker will attract the type of publicity which will encourage imitators. So serious is this risk that even major incidents created by stalkers which would usually lead to prosecution may not result in criminal charges for fear of the publicity generating copycat behaviours. For example, the self-styled ‘comedy terrorist’ Aaron Barschak, who in 2003 gatecrashed a royal party at Windsor Castle dressed as a caricature Osama Bin Laden, triggered a series of copycat incursions into royal palaces over the ensuing weeks. The imitators included intoxicated students, the pathetically publicity hungry and the seriously disturbed. The repeated incidents stretched the resources and the patience of those whose job it was to protect royalty from real threats. 4. Celebrities from the worlds of entertainment and sport may feel themselves under pressure to give far more leeway to the intrusions of stalkers than most of us would tolerate. One of the victims we saw was a prominent football player who when he sought help from his club to deal with a particularly persistent female stalker was informed that she was a fan and fans were the club’s lifeblood. The club’s priority was preventing adverse publicity that might make the club appear fan-unfriendly. We have seen similar responses from radio and

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television networks, though to be fair most such organisations now behave in an exemplary manner in supporting their staff who attract stalkers as a result of the nature of their work. 5. The risk for those public figures who are potential targets for terrorists and other political extremists is that the relatively harmless stalkers will dissipate the resources available for protection and inadvertently provide a screen behind which more sinister forces may operate.

Typologies of the stalkers of public figures Phillips (2006, 2007) offers an overview of celebrity and special-target stalking and related attacks. His typology adjusts the one used in this book to develop the following: 1. Celebrity intimacy seekers, who seek a loving relationship, often encouraged by their own misperceptions of the target’s response, as when answered fan letters and requested autographed photos are taken as tokens of reciprocated personal regard and affection. Phillips (2007) gives as an example Margaret Ray, who stalked the television personality David Letterman over a number of years and broke into his house no less than seven times. She claimed they had a long relationship and had a mythical son David Jr. Repeated imprisonment and compulsory psychiatric treatment did little to modify her stalking, which continued until she committed suicide in 1998. 2. Rejected celebrity stalkers, who begin as intimacy seekers with delusional conviction that a relationship exists with a celebrity. Subsequently, however, they develop a profound sense of rejection following some action of the celebrity, either directed at them, such as initiating legal action to restrain their intrusions, or related to the supposed intimacy, such as announcing an engagement to another. This group, like our more mundane types of rejected stalkers, tend to vacillate between seeking reconciliation and revenge. One example of this type provided by Phillips (2007) is Robert Bardo, who was totally infatuated with the actress Rebecca Schaeffer. Bardo

apparently became disillusioned and enraged after seeing a movie portraying Ms Schaeffer in bed with another actor. This is an interesting example of the tendency of celebrity stalkers to overlap or interdigitate the world of television and film drama with the actual reality of the star who is their target. Orion (1997) quotes a letter from Bardo in which he wrote ‘I have an obsession with the unattainable and I have to eliminate that [which] I cannot attain.’ Some time after this classic statement of the dilemma of the jealous and rejected he shot and killed Ms Schaeffer. 3. Predatory celebrity stalkers, who pursue their victims in preparation for a physical or sexual attack. These predatory stalkers are often a greater problem for politicians, and particularly heads of state, who may be perceived as responsible for the stalker’s problems. It can also encompass sexually deviant predators who have centred their perverse fantasies on a celebrity. Phillips (2007) gives Jonathan Norman, the stalker of film director Stephen Spielberg, as an example. Norman had surreptitiously observed Spielberg and his family whilst planning an abduction and rape. He was apprehended on what was probably the day he planned to launch his attack. 4. Resentful stalkers, who are righteously indignant and angry at some supposed injustice. Phillips suggests they are committed to eliminating their target to achieve retribution. They are described as having paranoid personality traits rather than delusional thinking. The example provided is Samuel Byck (played by Sean Penn in the movie The Assassination of Richard Nixon), who sent threatening letters and strange lengthy audiotapes not just to Nixon but to a range of public figures. He picketed the White House demanding his constitutional right to petition the government. He held the President personally responsible for his business and domestic problems. This ended in tragedy when Byck, in attempting to hijack a plane, shot three people before turning the gun on himself. Phillips (2006) added three further types specially related to presidential stalkers and attackers: 5. The obsessed, who are characterised by a severe psychotic illness with persecutory or grandiose delusions. Charles Guiteau, the assassin of President

Typologies of the stalkers of public figures

Garfield, is provided as an example. Guiteau had a range of grandiose ideas about the role he played in Garfield’s election and the high positions which were now his due. He started as a dedicated and assiduous admirer and petitioner, but became enraged when rejected, and stalked and eventually shot the President. 6. Infamy seekers, who are characterised by trying to make grand political statements, usually about extreme and highly personalised beliefs. They are seeking fame and martyrdom. Martin Duran, who targeted President Clinton, is the example given. Duran, enraged by Clinton’s modest attempts to introduce gun control and other liberal policies, fired 29 shots at the White House, though without injuring anyone. 7. Nuisances and attention seekers, a mixed bag of psychotic and eccentric people who repeatedly attempt to approach or associate themselves with public figures. Phillips (2006) suggests the indefatigable Reverend Richard C. Weaver as an example. Weaver,

who runs his own company, Spiritual Revolution Thru Christ, has managed repeatedly to insinuate himself into public events, including the inauguration of George W. Bush, where he managed to present the President with a congratulatory certificate and medal.

Fixation Mullen and colleagues (in press) have attempted to conceptualise the stalking of public figures as part of a phenomenon they term fixation. Fixation (from the Latin figo, to be bound fast) is defined as an intense preoccupation with an individual, activity or idea. Normal fixations are a part of everyday life and are found in such states as romantic love, parental and filial affection, intense loyalty and adulation (Table 18.1). Mullen et al. suggest that those who stalk or occasionally attack public figures often have pathological fixations on individuals with whom there is no mutual relationship and often no real connection, which are

Table 18.1 Fixation Normal range

Pathological extensions

Usually focus is on interests or concerns, though occasionally may centre on an individual such as a pop star Fits with the individual’s personal and social background

May focus initially on issues or organisations but ends up with exclusive focus on an individual

Enhances the individual’s life Usually promotes contact with like-minded individuals

Focus often out of keeping with prior personal and social background No mutual relationship exists and usually no real relationship at all Isolating as idiosyncratic with a nature and intensity which alienate others Comes to dominate all other interests and concerns, to the detriment of personal and social functioning Productive of expectation and entitlement directed at object of fixation

May direct priorities, but not to total detriment of mundane needs and commitments May reflect or generate loyalty and/or gratitude to individuals or organisation on which fixated Can produce conflict with family and friends, usually over expenditure of time and resources Recognise that what they are fixated on is important to them Believe their expenditure of time and resources entitles them to without necessarily evoking a reciprocal interest or concern reciprocal attention Do not expect reward or recognition beyond that which might, Tend to become angry and resentful when hopes are not fulfilled for example, come from admiration of fellow fans Examples – Fixations on sports teams, media and entertainment Examples – fixations on politicians, heads of state or other public figures, royalty, motor cars, activities like fishing and sailing, figures whom they believe could advance their interests or who collectables have injured those interests; fixations on celebrities with whom they believe they have or will have an intimate relationship

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characterised by obsessive preoccupations pursued to an abnormally intense degree (Table 18.1). The pathologically fixated spend much of their waking lives thinking about the object of their concern. They usually gather information from multiple sources, including newspapers, books, television and, increasingly, the internet. Typically, repeated attempts are made to communicate with the prominent person via lengthy letters, telephone and email, with a few establishing web pages. The sheer volume of material produced by many of the fixated sets them apart from most other enthusiasts targeting the prominent. The pathologically fixated may seek to achieve close physical proximity to the objects of their attention, or to penetrate into their homes and workplaces. Pathological fixations can emerge autochthonously out of pre-existing delusional beliefs, or develop gradually. Such abnormal development usually begins with the belief that despite no actual or substantial relationship the individual’s interest in a prominent person in and of itself establishes mutuality and a right to reciprocal concern. This autistic engagement with the other progresses to a belief that they are entitled, not just to acknowledgement, but to active support. Frustration and anger may follow when neither the recognition nor the support they believe is owed are forthcoming. The intense preoccupation drives out everything else, alienating friends and relatives, undermining what social networks the fixated person may have had, making continued employment impossible, dissipating their financial resources, and typically culminating in their isolation and destitution, with every moment taken up with their quest. The concept of pathological fixations is not simply a different way of describing stalking behaviours, nor is it some universal explanation of such behaviours. Stalking refers to a constellation of behaviours. Stalking may emerge on the basis of a range of motivations and states of mind. Fixation is a state of mind characterised by an obsessive preoccupation with a person or a cause, which may or may not lead to stalking behaviours. Not all fixated persons stalk, and not all stalkers are fixated. Mullen and colleagues (in press) suggest that there are five broad types of fixation on public figures, which

are closely related to the stalker typology employed in this book: 1. Relationship or intimacy seekers, who believe they have, or are destined to acquire, a special relationship with the prominent person. 2. Unusually persistent petitioners, who can be of two general types: those requesting, or more usually demanding, support for a cause, and those entreating assistance with a personal problem. 3. Pretenders, who assert a claim to a position or title. 4. The persecuted, who become abnormally fixated on a public figure from whom they are entreating support against their persecutors, or whom they are blaming for their victimisation. 5. The chaotic, where motivation is unclear, with communications either disorganised and incoherent or cryptic and obscure.

Relationship or intimacy seekers There can be two types of intimacy seeker, the amorous and the amity seeker. The amorous intimacy seeker is pursuing love, believing in the existence, or future probability, of a romantic relationship. The amity seeker is pursuing a friendship in which they believe they have, or will have, the role of confidant or adviser. The media in general, and television in particular, can promote a sense of a relationship with celebrities and public figures. Television brings the famous into our living rooms. The watcher or the reader is made privy to the details of the lives of the famous, or at least those aspects which fit the journalist’s agenda. An impression of intimacy, or of personal insight into the public figure’s nature, may be fostered by interviews, exposés and self-disclosures. For some lonely people the person they feel closest to in the world may be a public figure whom they have encountered only through television or other media. In today’s world the pseudo-community of chat shows, breakfast shows and talk-back may for some provide their only community. This may also predispose to the emergence of a fantasised intimacy with someone when in reality there has been no actual contact. Pseudo-intimacy and pseudocommunity are no more than entertainment and diversion for most of us, but for the lonely, the desperate

Typologies of the stalkers of public figures

and the disordered there is a risk that they become the breeding grounds for fantasies and delusions which can manifest in stalking. AN AMOROUS RELATIONSHIP SEEKER A middle-aged lady was convinced she had had a long-standing intimate relationship with a young member of a royal household. Over several years she sent hundreds of letters on an almost daily basis detailing their supposed relationship and responding to the coded communications she received from him via the radio and television. She made several attempts to approach the object of her affections, including a carefully planned intrusion into one of the royal palaces. She was out of contact with mental health services, living a squalid existence as a result of expending all her resources on pursuing her love.

A PETITIONER PURSUING A CAUSE A middle-aged man developed the belief that he, and many like him, had been damaged by the effects of a particular manufacturer’s electrical appliances. He attempted unsuccessfully to pursue complaints against the company through the courts and various complaints organisations. He became totally preoccupied with his quest for justice, writing numerous letters to prominent people on a daily basis, setting up an internet site, and bombarding newspapers with letters. He became increasingly threatening towards individual Members of Parliament. Eventually he was arrested following a potentially dangerous incident during a sitting of the House of Commons. Again, this man had laid waste to his life prior to his arrest and consequent referral for treatment.

A PETITIONER ENTREATING PERSONAL ASSISTANCE AN AMITY SEEKER A woman wrote regularly over some years to the Queen. The letters were conversational and intimate in tone, describing events in her own life as well as offering advice and encouragement to the Queen. As time passed the expressions of disappointment and irritation increased at not having received adequate responses to her epistles. Eventually she announced she was coming to the palace for tea to sort out this problem. When refused entry she became indignant and assaulted an officer who attempted to prevent her entry.

Unusually persistent petitioners The unusually persistent petitioners often believe that they are social reformers or whistle blowers who are acting as the aids or agents of the powerful on whom they have fixed their hopes. This leaves them peculiarly vulnerable to any supposed ingratitude or slight. Whilst the original grievance in many cases will be rooted in some real experience of injustice, this group also includes those with bizarre delusional systems which appear to have little relation, if any, to reality. In the case of petitioners of British royalty there is a history and continuing social context of contractualism which gives support to the notion of the right of a petitioner to expect a meaningful response to their petitions and remonstrances (Poole, 2000; James et al., 2008). Similarly in the UK and USA there is a tradition enshrined in law of the right to petition elected officials about both personal grievances and public issues. Problems only arise when the petitioner becomes over-intrusive or threatening.

On 2 August 1786, a deluded spinster in her forties named Margaret Nicholson attempted to stab King George III at the entrance to St James’s Palace, damaging his waistcoat (Poole, 2000). Margaret Nicholson was the daughter of a barber in Stockton-on-Tees, County Durham. She had worked as a housemaid in several households before being forced to leave her last position after an affair with a footman. She had petitioned the King on more than twenty occasions for assistance. The petitions were lengthy and rambling. She received no reply, which she believed, with some justification, was a breach of her rights. She had repeatedly come to the royal residence seeking an audience. When she was brought before the Privy Council, she stated that she had contemplated ‘regicide about a week’. She explained that she had made numerous petitions to no avail. She had therefore made this demonstration ‘not to kill the King, but merely to shew the Cause’ (Macalpine & Hunter, 1969, p. 311). She was declared insane by two physicians (the doctors Munro, father and son) and committed to the Bethlem Hospital without undergoing trial (Allderidge, 1979). Margaret Nicholson remained in Bethlem until her death in old age in May 1828.

Pretenders This group are commonest among the pursuers of royalty, but the US President also has the occasional disordered claimant to contend with. Such beliefs are almost exclusively delusional in nature. They may present at a palace or presidential residence claiming to live there and attempt to enter. Some will attempt lengthy and often incomprehensible justifications, or conduct elaborate researches into their ancestry or supposed credentials, many featuring claims about

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births that were kept secret or children that were confused or deliberately exchanged in infancy. A PRETENDER A middle-aged professional man who had written repeatedly to the Queen over a number of years asserted his right to the throne. He had spent considerable sums of money attempting to establish a largely spurious genealogy on which he based his claim. He would expound the claims in detail to anyone who would listen. So absorbed did he become in establishing his claim that he ceased to function professionally. He separated from his wife, whom he now considered an unsuitable consort. He attempted unsuccessfully to initiate legal action. Finally he was arrested, having managed to enter a royal residence and refusing to leave.

The persecuted This group may be either entreating a public figure for support against their persecutors, or blaming them for their victimisation. PERSECUTED BY A PROMINENT PERSON A man believed that the Queen was at the centre of a criminal terrorist conspiracy, which threatened not only himself but the security of the Western world. He wrote repeatedly to a variety of agencies, but not to any representatives of the Royal Family. In these communications, he outlined his evidence in great detail. Finally, in order to make his point, he decided that the gates of Buckingham Palace must be blown up. He acquired a large van, filled it with jerry cans of flammable liquid, drove to the gates and attempted to set the fuel on fire. Fortunately he had economised by buying diesel, which is difficult to ignite.

SEEKING HELP FROM A PROMINENT PERSON A middle-aged woman became convinced she had been the object of a campaign of persecution by a government agency. She appealed to her MP for assistance and was so impressed by the apparently concerned response that she pinned all her hopes on him. Over the next year she wrote repeatedly, attended the MP’s surgery regularly, attended the House of Commons and began turning up at the MP’s home and following him around. She regarded him as her saviour. When attempts were made to dissuade her from repeated intrusions into the MP’s privacy, she became enraged, repeatedly attempting to force herself onto the MP and making death threats.

The chaotic In these cases, motivation remains unclear, because the communications are either so disorganised that no coherent theme can be identified, or so cryptic that the meaning remains obscure. A CHAOTIC CASE A young Frenchman had come across the Channel to England in response to command hallucinations and was penniless and sleeping rough. He believed that he was in telepathic communication with the British Prime Minister. He made repeated attempts to climb security barriers around the House of Commons and Buckingham Palace for purposes that he appeared unable to describe. At interview, he was thought disordered to the point of incoherence, and his motivation appeared confused and obscure, as much to him as to everyone else.

Celebrity stalkers and other stalkers The category of relationship seekers is easily accommodated within our intimacy-seeking typology. The petitioners and the persecuted can be forced, albeit uncomfortably, into a resentful typology. The pretenders, however, are a type virtually unique to a small number of public figures who combine high celebrity status with the appearance of great power and influence. That being said, we have encountered occasional stalkers with more mundane victims who are driven by a conviction that they are either the true embodiment of their victim, or deserve to have their lives. One stalker believed he was the Commissioner of Police, or more precisely that he was a previous occupier of that role then deceased. This would have been a relatively harmless conceit had he not acquired the habit both of sending threatening letters to the current Commissioner and of entering police stations and handing out orders and making peremptory demands.

The usefulness of the concept of fixation Mullen et al. (in press) are of the view that pathological fixations are often rooted in delusional beliefs. They state that the postbags of public figures are overflowing with the writings of the floridly psychotic, and the

Threatening and inappropriate communications and approaches

residences and workplaces of the prominent are magnets for the mentally ill. In their studies they found that many fixated individuals had received treatment in the mental health services, but most were out of contact with services at the time they were actively pursuing the public figure. At one time we hoped that the fixation concept would allow a greater understanding of those who harassed and intruded upon public figures, and in particular that it would offer a way of preventing escalation to more serious incursions and violence. In practice, however, pathological fixations are almost always associated with delusional states. Thus pathological fixation becomes essentially co-extensive with serious mental illness in this population of stalkers. This must raise the question as to whether there is any real value in introducing a new concept when it may add little to the time-honoured class of psychotic. The articulation of the pathological-fixation approach is linked to projects aimed at the early identification and mental health treatment of this population (Meloy et al., 2004; James et al., 2008; Mullen et al., in press). Though the notion of fixation may assist protective and police services to identify these groups, it is likely to be less than persuasive when it comes to soliciting the support of mental health services in providing treatment and even on occasion containment. Mental health professionals are likely to continue to expect evidence of ‘psychosis’ before they will take any responsibility. Equally, they may continue to be slow to recognise delusional preoccupations which occur in isolation from other major disturbances of mental state diagnostic of accepted categories of disorder, like schizophrenia. It has been hard enough to persuade some psychiatrists that stalking may be a problem behaviour worthy of their attention and therapeutic endeavour. Referrals of those fixated on public figures are likely to understandably raise even greater suspicion of the misuse of psychiatry for political purposes and social control. Hopefully greater knowledge about this area will make clear the extent to which stalkers suffer as a result of their behaviour and the frequency with which this behaviour reflects major, and potentially remediable, psychopathology.

Threatening and inappropriate communications and approaches Dietz and colleagues (1991a, 1991b) studied those who wrote letters to celebrities or politicians. The sample was largely made up of those who wrote repeatedly in a manner which created concern for those charged with the duty of protecting these people. They examined some 1800 threatening, sinister, bizarre, unreasonable or disjointed letters sent to celebrities by 214 subjects. A sample of those who subsequently attempted to approach the celebrity was compared to a control group who confined their activities to writing. The approachers were more likely to send multiple letters, to correspond for longer, to express a wish to see the celebrity, to nominate a time for that meeting, and to write from two or more geographical locations. There was no association between written threats and subsequent approaches. In a parallel study they enquired into those who wrote threatening or inappropriate letters to members of the US Congress. Those who subsequently approached were more likely to write of love, or of the desire to offer counsel or other assistance, whereas those who did not make approaches were more likely to have made threats or offered insults. In the celebrity study there was no relationship between communicating threats and attempting actual contact. In the politician study there was a clear relationship, but in the reverse direction to that which might have been expected. Threats, and all the analysed aspects of threats, were associated with a reduced risk of subsequent approaches. Scalora and colleagues (2002a, 2002b, 2003) also carried out a series of studies of threats to politicians and government officials. They looked at a range of threats conveyed by letter, or by behaviour. The Dietz studies had suggested a possible connection between writing repeatedly to a public figure and the presence of mental illness. The Scalora studies documented this connection, suggesting that many were mentally disordered. It was the mentally disordered who created greater problems by attempting more often to approach and being more persistent. In contrast to the studies of Dietz et al., Scalora and colleagues concluded that threats cannot be ignored, as 21% of the approaches

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and 42% of violent incidents were preceded by threatening statements. There are problems in drawing conclusions from letters and emails to public figures. In practice a variable proportion of the letters and emails sent to the famous are identified as potentially of concern. For prominent politicians and heads of state there are usually well-organised systems to screen incoming mail, a system which for senior politicians often has to include a specialist in dealing with the more obviously odoriferous. Despite such screening protocols, which letters finish up being designated as threatening or otherwise almost always has an element of the random. In practice those letters which have gross and obvious oddities in their appearance, such as multiple highlighting, drawings, the writing running in circles, or blood stains, tend more easily to attract attention. Interestingly, many of the repeat letter writers to public figures who are brought to the attention of protective services share the characteristics of those produced by querulants and vexatious litigants (Lester et al., 2004; Mullen & Lester, 2006). Others are characteristic of the writings of the actively psychotic. So dramatic and so obviously disordered are many of the communications brought to the attention of protective services that it tends to obscure the far larger number of perfectly ordinary letters which arrive daily for politicians, celebrities and other prominent people. It is not stalking to simply write repeatedly, to remonstrate or to share experiences, or to proclaim loyalty, or even to announce affection. It only becomes stalking when those repeated communications, because of either their content or their form, create real concern about the writer’s future behaviour.

Identifying and managing the risks presented by stalkers of public figures Celebrities from the worlds of entertainment and sport tend to attract the amorous intimacy seekers, who though persistent are mostly harmless. The sheer number of stalkers is the difficulty for the super-celebrities. Security services can usually provide effective barriers to protect their clients, at a price. These services

depend on a mixture of perimeter security, which screens incoming communications as well as people, and the close protection of bodyguards when the client moves out of the controlled situations into the wider world. The level of security provided tends to be determined by the client’s capacity to pay, tolerance of external regulation, and level of fearfulness. This last usually reflects either past experience or their gullibility with regard to the occasionally self-serving advice offered by security experts. Public figures from the world of politics present a more complex problem for protective services. The stalkers who are fixated on politicians or heads of state are not predominantly those persistently but quietly pursuing love, but are a mix of the petitioners, the persecuted, the would-be counsellors and the plain chaotic. As a generalisation, the stalkers of the powerful are more likely to be psychiatrically ill, to be angry, to resort to aggression and, most troubling for protective services, to be unpredictable. To further complicate the situation for many politicians there is a right of access supported by tradition and often by law. Constituents have a right to communicate and in some circumstances meet with their member of parliament, representative or senator. The right to petition the head of state, be they royalty or presidential, is often enshrined in the constitution, or in the case of the UK in the Bill of Rights. There is no right or legitimate expectation of being able to communicate or confront a celebrity, but for politicians and heads of state such expectations exist and can often be exercised. Security services cannot therefore establish an impenetrable barrier, but must manage a semi-permeable screen. The cost of protection for politicians and heads of state comes out of the public purse. In our experience there appear few if any cost restraints on the protection of the US President or the British sovereign. Even with heads of state, however, a process is usually employed to try to determine which stalker presents the greatest threats and therefore requires the greatest attention. The questions of priority and resources loom even larger as the protective net widens to politicians of varying prominence and to members of the immediate and extended families of presidents, prime ministers and most particularly royalty. At some point the

Identifying and managing the risks presented by stalkers of public figures

question tends to be asked whether a stalker presents a ‘credible threat’ as opposed to an irritation. In an ideal world the level of risk presented by any given stalker would be matched to the degree of attention they attract. Currently, even if we narrow the notion of threat to the probability of launching a violent attack, the existing predictive paradigms are of little real help. The problem is not missing the dangerous but including so many relatively harmless stalkers in the net that no useful focus emerges for the protective services. This may change as systematic studies accumulate. Currently, distinctions such as those between making threats and presenting threats, or of predatory versus affective violence, sound impressive but remain only theoretically, not practically, applicable. Preventive strategies based on current risk prediction approaches, if applied to the stalkers of politicians, would have to target so many stalkers as to create a scandalous disruption of communication between citizens and their representatives. The difficulties of identifying high-risk stalkers are not insurmountable. Currently a combination of experience, applying what knowledge exists and intuition serves protective services reasonably well. When working with the police providing protection to prominent people in the UK, we have been surprised and impressed by their ability to identify high-risk individuals, even if they sometimes find it difficult to articulate why a particular individual created greater than usual concern. A tragic example concerned a man who turned up at Buckingham Palace and was identified by the Royal Protection Squad as someone at high risk of committing serious violence. The man was obviously mentally ill, and arrangements were made for his admission as a compulsory patient to his local mental health service. Those responsible for his treatment there appear to have lacked the experience and knowledge of those who had originally apprehended him and assessed him. As a result the man was discharged and lost to effective follow-up. A short time later he attacked and killed a social-work student who was trying to provide him assistance. This case also illustrates the not-infrequently encountered scenario of making threats to harm one person and then attacking another (Warren et al., 2008). Improved systems based on an

increasing knowledge about the variables predictive of attack will only improve the specificity of current risk assessments. In medicine there are two broad approaches to prevention. The first involves identifying those at high risk of harm from a disease (e.g. by cervical smears or regular blood pressure measurement) and treating the disorder before it inflicts damage. The second involves identifying a risk factor (smoking, obesity, hazardous drinking, unsafe sex) and attempting to reduce the frequency of that risk factor in the population as a whole. Identifying individuals at high risk is the preferred strategy when the risk profile identifies a small proportion of the total population with a very high risk. The population-based approach works best with a relatively common risk factor which has low specificity for the identification of future cases but where removing the influence of the factor will decrease the likelihood of the adverse outcome. Traditionally, risk assessments for violence are concerned with identifying high-risk individuals. But in the case of stalkers of public figures there is a risk factor (psychotic illness) which is widespread and would generate high levels of false positives, but whose effective management would be expected to reduce the overall rate of attacks in the population. This is just the situation where a strategy aimed at managing the risk factor in the whole population is likely to be superior to attempting to identify the highrisk individuals in the population. Mental illness has been recognised in the structure of threat assessment units which incorporate mental health personnel. The Secret Service and Capital Police in Washington DC take mental illness seriously as a risk factor, though mental health law in the USA limits their capacity to intervene in a pre-emptive manner. In Sweden, similarly, the Security Police have collaborated with the Karolinska Institute to integrate mental health services into the criminal justice approach to threat assessment (Grann, 2008). In the UK a special service has been established, the Fixated Threat Assessment Centre (FTAC) (James, 2008), to manage the obviously mentally disordered who present repeatedly or in a concerning manner at parliament or a royal palace. These individuals often have histories of treatment for mental illness but

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have dropped out of contact with services. Many are living in conditions of squalor, in large part because, driven by delusionally based preoccupations, they are spending all their resources and time pursuing a public figure. FTAC assesses and crisis-manages these stalkers, usually reconnecting them with their local mental health services. Occasionally FTAC arranges the stalker’s admission to general or forensic psychiatric services if the level of disorder and immediate risk justifies inpatient treatment. The primary aim of the

service is to provide improved mental health care to a disturbed and disabled group of the mentally ill who are falling through the care net. The benefit for the security services is that the number of stalkers they have to monitor is greatly reduced, leaving more resources for greater potential threats. Hopefully, also, a small number of mentally ill stalkers who would otherwise have progressed to a dangerous incursion or attack will be prevented by being diverted into mental health care.

19 False victims of stalking

Introduction Central to how stalking is constructed, both as a concept and as an offence, are the victim’s perceptions of being harassed and rendered fearful. Given this subjective element, it might be expected in some cases that there would be a genuine disjunction between the views taken of the behaviour at issue by the putative perpetrator and by the complainant. Beyond such differences of perspective, there are also a small proportion of individuals who claim to be stalking victims but who quite simply have not been subjected to the behaviour about which they complain. Although false allegations of stalking have received little attention in the literature to date, false victims of various crimes have been documented since biblical times in a number of cultures (Mohandie et al., 1998; Parmar, 2004) and there is an expanding literature on intentional false reports of rape (Kanin, 1994), sexual misconduct (Gutheil, 1992), sexual harassment (Long, 1994; Feldman-Schorrig, 1995, 1996) and physical assault (Eisendrath, 1996). Kanin (1994), who studied 45 cases of falsely alleged rape presenting to a police agency over a nine-year period, observed that the false allegations served three main functions: to furnish an alibi, typically in the wake of regretted consensual sex or unwanted pregnancy, to inflict revenge, as in the case of a woman who retaliates against a rejecting male, and as a ploy to procure sympathy and attention. The author suggests that the attention-seekers cause the least social harm because the alleged assailant is not identified, while in about half the revenge-seeking cases and most of the alibi

group the ‘rapist’ is named and in some cases wrongfully prosecuted. The study also found that false rape allegations are, in the main, the exclusive province of women, since: If rape were a commonplace victimisation experience of men, if men could experience the anxiety of possible pregnancy from illicit affairs, if men had a cultural base that would support their confidence in using rape accusations punitively, and if men could feel secure that victimisation could elicit attention and sympathy, then men also would be making false rape allegations. (Kanin, 1994, p. 89)

Some researchers postulate that, compared with sex crimes, ‘stalking as a behavior … is less threatening to the esteem of the claimant and thus represents an attractive option. Invasive and intrusive forensic procedures, such as rape kits, are also avoided’ (Mohandie et al., 1998, p. 234). There are of course cases where the alleged stalking behaviours have encompassed sexual assault (see case 4 in this chapter). Furthermore, individuals who misrepresent themselves as stalking victims to elicit sympathy may well find the response falls short of expectations, given the relative dearth of services available to stalking victims and the inappetency that has greeted many genuine cases. The term false victimisation syndrome has been specifically applied to false stalking situations, for those stalkers who present themselves as victims of stalking. The Los Angeles Police Department database suggests that false claims of this nature are rare (around 2% of all stalking cases.) Zona and colleagues (1996) postulate that the phenomenon arises from ‘a conscious or unconscious desire to be placed in the victim’s role’.

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Mohandie and co-workers (1998) advance a typology of related ‘false victimisation syndromes’. All of their cases consciously fabricated the alleged crimes, varying only by their characteristics, secondary gains and interventions. The authors referred to four cases of false reports of stalking documented in the literature since 1984, the alleged perpetrator being unknown in all cases. They detailed a further three case histories encountered by law enforcement agencies, the identity of the alleged perpetrator being unknown in two. To these may be added the case of Australian entertainer Fairlie Arrow, who in 1991 alleged she was being stalked by an ‘obsessive’ fan, ultimately staging her own abduction with the aid of a male accomplice. She eventually confessed to her subterfuge, which was apparently motivated by her need to revive her flagging career. She was convicted of making a false complaint to police and was fined $23 500, the money subsequently raised by posing for Penthouse magazine (Sydney Morning Herald, 9 January 1992). The aforementioned false claims of victimisation were all conscious fabrications, but other motivations or psychopathology may also give rise to false accusations. The two studies presented in this chapter highlight the range of behaviours and diagnoses that can underpin fallacious allegations of stalking. Our clinic, which has assessed numerous stalking victims over the past decade, has encountered false reports in a significant minority of cases. This chapter begins by describing 18 of these fictitious victims, all of whom were personally assessed by the authors. These subjects were drawn from our earlier published sample of 12 false victims of stalking (Pathé et al., 1999) to which a further six subjects have since been added (Cases 13–18, Table 19.1).1 It will be apparent that while some of the 18 pseudo ‘victims conformed to the descriptions of false victims noted in the foregoing studies, others were not deliberately confabulating and some in fact were frankly deluded. We will present a typology of false victims based on these findings which can guide assessment 1

Additional false victims have presented to our clinical practice since 2001 (16 of a total of 120 referrals, a false victim rate of 13%). All of these were delusional.

and treatment approaches with this group. The results from our clinical sample will be compared with those of a more recent non-clinical series of 40 false stalking victims drawn from Europe and the UK (Sheridan & Blaauw, 2004).

The Australian study In the study by Pathé and colleagues (1999), victim accounts were judged to be false when they were clearly and repeatedly at odds with the available objective information. For those in whom the stalking was delusionally based, the claims were often inherently unlikely, if not frankly impossible. The benefit of the doubt was given to marginal cases where the victim’s presentation was suspect, but where the presence of stalking could not be confidently excluded on the available evidence. These cases were not included in our false victim group. Fourteen of the 18 subjects were female, the cohort ranging in age from 25 to 55 years (Table 19.1). Six of the subjects were referred by magistrates’ courts, three by general practitioners, one by a general psychiatrist, and eight were self-referred. Four had a documented history of mental disorder (delusional disorder, depression, schizoid personality disorder and dysthymic disorder in cases 15, 5, 7 and 11 respectively). Half the cohort had directly or indirectly experienced severe victimisation in the past, five with corroborated backgrounds of spousal abuse and three with a substantiated history of childhood sexual abuse, while another had witnessed a horrific industrial accident that killed her son. Three individuals who claimed to have been stalked were in fact stalking the person they accused, all of them appearing before the courts for such activities. The group attracted a range of psychiatric diagnoses, although paranoid illnesses were most common, including delusional disorders with erotomanic and persecutory features (cases 2, 6, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14 and 15), and in one instance schizophrenia with erotomanic delusions (case 7). Three subjects had post-traumatic stress disorder (cases 3, 17 and 11), with comorbid major depression in the last of these. One suffered a generalised anxiety disorder (case 12) and another

The Australian study

Table 19.1 Details of false victims from the authors’ clinical practice Relationship of ‘stalker’ Marital status to ‘victim’ Psychiatric diagnosis False victim category

Case Age Sex

Occupation

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

30 50 30 30 35 50 35 35 25 45 55 40

M F F F F F M F M F F F

Actor Computer programmer Small businesswoman Counsellor Receptionist Health professional Unemployed Health professional Unemployed Welfare worker Waitress Small businesswoman

Separated Divorced Single Single Single Divorced Single Single Single Divorced Widowed Single

Estranged wife Neighbour None Ex-client Acquaintance Acquaintance Acquaintance Colleague None Neighbour Worka Noneb

13 14 15 16 17 18

30 55 45 40 35 25

F F F F F M

Secretary Cook Antique dealer Factory worker Nurse Tradesman

Separated Divorced Single Divorced Single Single

Neighbour Work Acquaintance Work Ex-intimate Acquaintance

Narcissistic PD Delusional disorder PTSD Factitious disorder Malingering Delusional disorder Schizophrenia Delusional disorder Delusional disorder Delusional disorder PTSD Generalised anxiety disorder Delusional disorder Delusional disorder Delusional disorder Histrionic PD PTSD PD

Role reversal Delusional False revictimisation Factitious Malingerer Delusional Delusional Delusional Delusional Delusional False revictimisation False revictimisation Delusional Delusional Delusional Role reversal False revictimsation Role reversal

PD, personality disorder; PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder Stalked in the workplace and while on stress leave falsely believed she was under constant surveillance by workers’ compensation fraud investigators. b Stalked by ex-boyfriend over a six-month period, then alleged two further instances of stalking by unknown men which proved to be false. a

had a narcissistic personality disorder (case 1). Case 4 was diagnosed with factitious disorder (or Munchausen syndrome), while the predominant diagnosis in case 5 was malingering. When compared to a group of 100 true stalking victims (Pathé & Mullen, 1997), there were no significant differences in age, gender or social class. However, while true victims were married or in de facto relationships in a third of cases, none of the pseudovictims was in a stable intimate relationship. Also, false victims tended to present earlier in the course of stalking, reporting a median duration of stalking which was only half that of true victims (12 vs. 24 months), although this difference failed to reach conventional levels of statistical significance due to the broad range of stalking durations.

Pseudovictims were no more likely than their genuine victim counterparts to solicit the help of friends and family or police, but consulted lawyers and utilised medical services such as general practitioners and psychiatrists significantly more often. Furthermore, while it was uncommon for true victims to seek the help of work colleagues or supervisors, 11 of the 18 false victims solicited help from this source. There were proportionately more false victims embroiled in legal action: Nine applied for restraining orders against their putative stalker, one was prosecuted for making false reports to police (case 4), another declared bankruptcy through her inability to focus on her business (case 3) and six were themselves convicted of stalking. There were also noteworthy differences in the pattern of pursuit alleged by false victims. While there were

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no significant discrepancies between the two groups in their reporting of unwanted telephone calls, approaches, property damage and the receipt of unsolicited material, letters were less frequently acknowledged by false victims. The false victim group were also significantly more likely to allege following and surveillance. True and false victims were equally likely to report assaults and personal threats, but threats directed at a third party were substantially less likely to be reported by the latter group. Eleven false victims (61%) reported suicidal ruminations, as opposed to 24% of the genuine victim sample, and two-thirds described violent thoughts towards the purported stalker. None had acted on these, though a high proportion, all of them delusional, admitted to arming themselves (two with a gun, three with knives, two with baseball bats and another with illegally obtained capsicum spray), in anticipation of their ‘stalker’s’ attack.

Typology of false stalking victims There are at least five broad contexts in which false claims of being stalked may emerge. The largest group comprises those with severe mental disorders whose persecutory or erotomanic delusions encompass stalking (cases 2, 6–10, 13–15). The second group consists of individuals who have been stalked in the past and who become hypersensitive to a possible recurrence such that they begin to see stalking in the perfectly innocent actions of others (cases 3, 11, 12 and 17). In the third group a stalker pre-empts their victim’s complaints by accusing the object of their unwanted attentions of being the initiator of the communications and approaches (cases 1, 16 and 18). Finally there are the two related groups, factitious victims (case 4) and malingerers (case 5).

Delusional victimisation An absolute conviction that one is being stalked may be encountered as part of a delusional system, usually of persecutory or erotomanic type. The sufferer harbours the belief that he or she is being stalked by one or more

individuals, and may allege quite elaborate plots in which extensive networks of accomplices are recruited to monitor that person’s every move. It appears that society’s growing awareness of the phenomenon of stalking is providing fresh material for delusional prepossessions. This is hardly surprising, given the centrality to many paranoid syndromes of experiences of being kept under surveillance, being followed and being harassed. The majority of deluded victims would not ordinarily be expected to present to psychiatrists, but given that our clinic also provides a service for stalking victims we have had a unique opportunity to assess and offer treatment to a substantial number of individuals in this category. CASE EXAMPLE (CASE 2) Julienne, a 50-year-old divorcee, worked part-time as a computer programmer. She referred herself to our clinic, stating that she had been stalked for several years by a large network of people. She presented as an intelligent and articulate woman who had led a fiercely independent and celibate lifestyle since her marriage to her physically assaultive husband ended 10 years previously. At the initial interview she was distressed and hypervigilant, fearing that other patients in the waiting-room were ‘plants’ hired to monitor her. She indicated that she first became aware she was being stalked four years earlier, when she observed a male neighbour taking an inordinate interest in her activities. She maintained this was prompted by his sexual interest in her, based on a series of innocuous events such as his whistling in the garden. She believed that her self-sufficiency and disinterest in his covert advances angered him, and his interest thereafter took a more malevolent course. She alleged he circulated malicious rumours about her sexuality, painting her as a whore, deducing this from the furtive glances of work colleagues and, progressively, local shopkeepers and strangers passing in the street. She regarded her stalker as a very persuasive, influential man who could easily enlist the help of strangers to harass her wherever she went. She said she was repeatedly followed in her car, and unfamiliar cars tooted at her. Odd clicks convinced her that her telephone was bugged, and this, she contended, was the means by which her persecutors gathered knowledge of her movements. Julienne sought the help of police, lawyers, her local member of parliament and her telephone company. All were initially sympathetic, but later dismissive. Over the previous four years she had consulted three psychiatrists, each of whom advised she was mentally ill and required medication. When she first

Typology of false stalking victims

attended our clinic, on the advice of a police constable who was himself feeling harassed by this unfortunate woman, she was notably sensitive to any hint of incredulity. At her third attendance, however, her level of distress and trust in her therapist were such that she agreed to a trial of the antipsychotic medication pimozide. She complied with the treatment, which was well tolerated at a relatively low dosage. The frequency of her diary recordings of suspicious incidents waned, and she increasingly acknowledged the likelihood that some of the events over the years were benign and coincidental. Unfortunately, her insight into the contribution of medication to her improved circumstances initially remained rather limited and she periodically ceased the pimozide as the stressors abated. This inevitably led to a resurgence of her persecution, ensuing distress and the resumption of pimozide. In recent years, Julienne has acknowledged the role of low-dose maintenance antipsychotic therapy (now the better tolerated risperidone) in warding off her stalkers.

Psychotic states arising in late life, variously known as late paraphrenia (Howard & Rabins, 1997) and latelife schizophrenia (Jeste et al., 1996) may encompass delusions of being stalked, especially in women who live alone. A 72-year-old widow complained that an unknown man visited her home in the night and made howling sounds outside her bedroom window. She believed he was shining laser beams through her window and that these were able to permeate the wooden shutter she installed. These partition delusions – ‘the belief that people, animals, materials or radiation can pass through a structure that would normally constitute a barrier to such passage’ (Howard et al., 1992) – are not infrequently observed in deluded stalking victims. This is not unexpected, given the observation that ‘partition delusions arise as secondary phenomena to the primary delusional experience of being observed, spoken about or physically affected by some agent outside the home’ (Howard et al., 1992). As noted in Chapter 8, erotomanic delusions may be primary, or secondary to a major psychiatric disorder such as schizophrenia. Individuals with erotomania are preoccupied with their imagined paramour, and while it is common for individuals suffering erotomania to stalk their love object, in some instances they will come to perceive their love interest as the active pursuer (Segal, 1989; Prins, 1997). In the incubus syndrome,

regarded as a variant of erotomania, the sufferer has delusions of imposed sexual approaches or intercourse at night by an unseen lover, the incubus (Raschka, 1979). Given the confidence of those with erotomanic delusions in the passionate persistence of their phantom lover it is perhaps not surprising to encounter the delusion of being stalked in this context. Case 8, for example, who developed erotomanic delusions in relation to a work colleague, was imprisoned for repeated breaches of the restraining order he had taken out against her. During her incarceration she alleged that he was bombarding her with seductive telepathic messages, and upon her release she was convinced he entered her home at night, made love to her as she slept and promised he would return to marry her.

False revictimisation Genuine victims can subsequently become false victims, although there may be no conscious intent on the part of these individuals to deceive. False reports instead arise out of the anxiety, fear and isolation that is so common to victims of stalking (see Chapter 4). Indeed, McCann (1988) notes that while fear reactions among crime victims in general diminish over time, precautionary behaviours may persist. Stalking victims exhibit a hypersensitivity and hypervigilance that can result in innocent situations being misperceived as threatening. Opportunities for reality-testing are limited by their social isolation and mistrust of the supports that may well have failed them previously (Pathé & Mullen, 1997). Occasionally, these individuals’ groundless fears are actively reinforced by others: one woman who falsely believed she was still being monitored while her stalker served a prison term hired a private detective who had little difficulty in convincing her, despite the conspicuous absence of any evidence, that he had found two ‘bugs’ in her ceiling. This category features serial victims who claim to have been targeted by two or more different stalkers over time. CASE EXAMPLE (CASE 3) Nicole was an attractive 30-year-old shop owner who was pursued by a stranger over an eight-month period. This man’s

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predatory behaviours were sexually motivated, with obscene phone calls to her work and home, and on two occasions he stood outside her workplace and exposed his genitals to her. Nicole’s initial approaches to police were frustrated by their apparent reluctance to appreciate the seriousness of the behaviours, as well as their suggestion – based on her comeliness – that she might have encouraged these advances. She responded by avoiding police and other potential sources of help, abandoning her shop and returning to live with her parents. She maintained a vigil inside their home, noting any ‘suspicious’ happenings in the street outside. Eventually her parents, terrified for her safety as well as her sanity, insisted that police investigate, and the stalker was apprehended via a telephone trace. The man was successfully prosecuted on a range of offences (stalking legislation had not been enacted at that time) and he did not continue his harassment of Nicole. She remained quite disabled nonetheless, presenting to the clinic with symptoms of PTSD. She said she was unable to return to her job due to her severe anxiety, flashbacks and loss of confidence. She did not feel safe living alone in her flat, insisting her mother accompany her everywhere. She isolated herself from friends, terminated her long-standing relationship with her boyfriend because of her mistrust of all men, and attempted to thwart their advances by deliberately neglecting her appearance. Nicole continued to spend long periods scanning the street of her formerly sleepy neighbourhood, noting the licence plate of any unfamiliar cars. Similarly, though she lacked the confidence to drive a motor vehicle, whenever she travelled with her mother she recorded details of any car that she suspected of tailing them, a camera at the ready to collect ‘evidence’. She recorded phone calls on the answering machine, refusing to allow anyone to answer calls directly. Family and friends confirmed that her personality had changed drastically, from a staunchly independent, ebullient individual free of any prior contact with mental health services to an anxious, irritable, suspicious person. These circumstances proved highly conducive to the genesis of subsequent allegations by Nicole of victimisation at the hands of unidentified stalkers. She angrily rejected family, police and therapists who pointed out the unsustainability of her charges, intensifying her efforts to collect evidence, so that she would eventually be vindicated by the police and courts as had happened in the past. Three further ‘stalkers’ were alleged, the first arising within weeks of the true stalker’s prosecution. After two months of ‘stalking’ she became aware of the menacing presence of a different man whom she believed followed her in his car and threw rocks on the roof at home. There was no evidence to support these claims, or to indicate that the behaviours were in any sense targeting her. Approximately six months later, while still reporting the strange noises at

night (believed by her father to be possums), another ‘stalker’ emerged. He soon dominated her consciousness, having innocently parked his car beside hers in a supermarket car park. He supposedly followed her (though in a different vehicle), prompting her to insist her mother speed through a red light, narrowly avoiding a traffic accident. She became convinced this person was responsible also for two hang-up phone calls which could not be traced. Nicole’s treatment focused on the underlying PTSD, as well as assisting her family to deal with her difficult and disruptive behaviours. She attended a psychologist for cognitivebehavioural therapy, and her anxiety symptoms improved to the point where she was able to leave the house unescorted and temper her vigilance. Working with a male psychologist also enabled her to re-establish some trust in men. Ten years later, Nicole is married and works as a receptionist. Though she carefully guards her privacy and maintains a cynical view of law enforcement, her life is no longer ruled by potential stalkers.

Role reversal The perplexing and occasionally bizarre role reversal, where the individual claiming to be the victim is in fact the stalker, can arise in a variety of psychopathological contexts. The shame and humiliation experienced by certain narcissistic individuals in response to the termination of a relationship can provoke intense rage and retaliatory action in the form of false accusations and lawsuits in which the true victim is claimed to be behaving in the manner which has characterised their accuser (see Chapter 15). CASE EXAMPLE (CASE 1) A 30-year-old struggling actor had been separated for two years from his attractive musician wife. He felt rejected and demeaned by her decision to end the marriage, repeatedly approaching her and demanding that she return. He kept her under surveillance, hiring private detectives to follow her and her female flatmate. He telephoned her home and workplace, alternately declaring his undying love for her and subjecting her to tirades of verbal abuse and threats. A telephone trace ultimately implicated him, and he was convicted of stalking and sentenced to a non-custodial community supervision order, with a direction to undergo psychiatric assessment. He was reluctant to be subjected to psychiatric scrutiny, and strenuously denied he had ever stalked his estranged wife, appearing offended and resentful when his version of events

Typology of false stalking victims

was challenged. He was assigned a diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder but was not found to be suffering any major mental disorder. He did not return for his second or subsequent appointments, and his cooperation with the conditions of his order was not enforced by his probation officer. Immediately the brief correctional order ended the stalking resumed, and his estranged wife, exhausted by his unrelenting pursuit and the reticence of police to intervene in a ‘domestic issue’, moved to a secret address interstate and as a precautionary measure obtained a restraining order. This further enraged her stalker, and he promptly followed suit by applying for a similar order against her, in the process obtaining her current address through an obliging but naive court clerk. He alleged his estranged wife was harassing him, though he could not support his claims. The true victim was unfortunately required to return to her home state to confront her stalker in court. He rejected legal representation, delivering a dramatic courtroom performance, cross-examining his hapless victim mercilessly. Ultimately, astonishingly, the perplexed magistrate granted the order against the true victim in the matter. She has since moved overseas while her now ex-husband, who has made no further contact, revelled in the resultant media attention which, though mostly negative, provided the public exposure he craved.

Other processes may operate in these role reversals. It has previously been observed that some stalkers, by virtue of intrapsychic defence mechanisms such as projection and projective identification, attribute blame to their victim, perceiving the victim as threatening and persecuting (Meloy & Gothard, 1995; Kienlen et al., 1997). There are also documented instances of stalkers who come to regard themselves and their victim as one and the same. Perez (1993) notes, ‘Most stalkers want some kind of union with the object [of their attentions]’, and Wright and others (1996) describe a process of ‘fusion’, whereby the stalker blends his or her personality into that of the victim. In their book Perfect Victim, Southall and Norris (2002) provide an astonishing account of a 20-year-old woman who stalked and ultimately murdered a 15-year-old female acquaintance, remodelling her appearance on that of the victim and appropriating other aspects of the victim’s life. One psychiatrist who assessed the stalker commented, ‘It is possible that she thought she could somehow magically reinvent herself in the image of the victim’ (p. 219).

Factitious disorders In factitious disorders there is conscious simulation of physical or psychological symptoms in order to assume the sick role. As described for factitious sexual harassment (Feldman-Schorrig, 1996), factitious victims seek gratification of dependency needs through adopting victim status rather than the sick role. These individuals, in addition to laying claim to victim status, invariably feign psychological symptoms, and occasionally physical symptoms, to support their allegations. This category should not be confused with malingering, although these individuals may acquire secondarily motivations based on financial reward, or there may be a confluence of internal and external incentives for portraying oneself as a victim (Janofsky, 1994). This category may also include individuals who have genuinely experienced harassment in the past, with its associated rewards. These particularly include the gratification of dependency needs and receiving the sympathetic attentions of others. Subsequent (false) allegations of stalking serve to validate their identity as a victim, particularly if, through ineffectuality or scepticism, the authorities failed them in the first (genuine) instance. Victimhood becomes their career, and potentially a permanent way of life. CASE EXAMPLE (CASE 4) Virginia was a 30-year-old domestic violence counsellor. She was referred to our clinic by a general practitioner after presenting to him complaining of anxiety and depressive symptoms consequent upon an eight-month history of being stalked. The referring doctor had not previously seen this woman and was not able to offer any additional background information. Virginia was a well-dressed, articulate woman. She looked rather younger than her stated years and spoke in high-pitched girlish tones. She narrated an extraordinary series of events, which she conveyed in a dispassionate and vague manner, and the chronology of events was difficult to follow. She did, however, produce numerous items of ‘evidence’, including letters from the alleged stalker containing threatening and sexually explicit material, other unsolicited mail such as erotic magazines, itemised telephone bills in which she had highlighted countless unwanted calls, and photographs of obscene lipstick messages left on her bedroom mirror during a recent burglary at her home. Virginia suspected that the culprit was a former client, but could not name any specific person. In spite of her rather homely

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appearance Virginia portrayed herself as very alluring to men, proudly alleging numerous affairs, mostly with work colleagues. She said a telephone trace failed to uncover the identity of her unwanted caller(s), which she alleged was due to a telephone company blunder. She said she had moved into another flat through fear, the rent being shared by a male acquaintance though she said he spent most of his time interstate. She took leave of absence at work because her productivity had diminished and her employers were perceived as unsympathetic. Virginia volunteered a range of subjective anxiety symptoms conforming to a diagnosis of PTSD including insomnia, nightmares of being pursued by a faceless assailant, flashbacks to an alleged physical assault, intense fear of answering the phone, poor concentration and feeling edgy and irritable. She had earlier consulted a psychiatrist to arrange a disability support pension; he obliged, diagnosing PTSD. By Virginia’s account, her personal background was unremarkable. She had not experienced any significant illnesses and there was no history of drug use. She said she had dealt with several stalking cases in the course of counselling women in domestic violence situations, but denied any prior personal experience of stalking or other crimes. She claimed to be the only child of two adoring parents who were apparently unaware of their daughter’s predicament. She was invited to bring them to one of our sessions but declined, stating ‘it would be too upsetting for them’. Likewise, she refused permission to contact other relatives, friends, her elusive flatmate or her employers, because ‘they can’t tell you any more than I’ve told you.’ Indeed, she appeared to thwart all efforts to verify her story with outside sources. Shortly after our first interview Virginia presented to our service unannounced, stating that she had been raped in her flat while investigating a noise outside in the middle of the night. She had called police and was examined by a forensic physician but there was no medical support for her allegations. She recounted, in detached legalistic terms, a vicious assault by a knife-wielding stranger. Virginia was spending increasing amounts of time with lawyers and investigating police officers, as well as attending sexual assault counsellors. Police were perplexed by this woman, finding many anomalies in their investigation. This included the lack of evidence for the sexual assault and the likelihood that the small abrasions she sustained during the alleged assault were self-inflicted. They considered also that she was the probable author of the letters and the perpetrator of break-ins at her flat. Virginia was confronted with these concerns, and the lack of corroborative evidence for her allegations. She reacted angrily, threatening legal action against incompetent police, the examining forensic physician and the

telephone company. She appeared so intent on ‘beating’ the sceptics that her fears for her safety and need to establish the identity of her ‘stalker’ were conspicuously subordinated. She never returned to our service, but her lawyers indicated she was continuing to receive ‘counselling’ with an unknown psychologist. We were later advised, some two years after her initial claims of being stalked and in the face of overwhelming evidence that she had fabricated her victimisation, that Virginia was convicted of making false reports to police. She received a community-based disposition with an order to continue her existing counselling arrangements, albeit with a more enlightened therapist.

Symptoms and suffering associated with being a victim are relatively easily feigned, especially by an individual such as Virginia, whose vocation brought her into regular contact with traumatised victims. Sparr and Pankratz (1983) have cautioned that ‘because the … condition’s symptoms are mostly subjective, posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can be easily simulated’, an opinion endorsed by Freckelton (1997): ‘diagnoses of PTSD are heavily dependent upon self-report and are not readily falsifiable nor easily disproved.’ While monetary incentives existed for Virginia, in particular disability payments for PTSD, these were of less concern to her than the success of her ‘condition’ in eliciting support and satisfying her psychological need to be the recipient of legal, criminal justice and victim counselling services. Indeed, any secondary gains in her case were far outweighed by substantial personal losses: she emerged from court with a criminal conviction and humiliating media exposure, forfeiting her career and a comfortable lifestyle. Her disability payments were withdrawn and she now depends on social welfare.

Malingerers Malingerers consciously fabricate or exaggerate claims of victimisation for understandable external incentives, such as financial rewards or to evade criminal prosecution. CASE EXAMPLE (CASE 5) Anna was a single 35-year-old receptionist who embezzled a large sum of money from her employer to fund escalating financial debts brought about by her gambling. Prior to her

Typology of false stalking victims

arrest Anna was a law-abiding woman who devoted much of her time to church activities. She was the only child of hardworking Greek migrants who doted on her. Hers was a seemingly unremarkable childhood and she was held in high esteem by extended family and friends. A popular student, she received average grades at school and had remained in stable employment as a secretary since leaving school at 17. She dated men on a few occasions but had had no sexual relations because of her religious beliefs and upbringing. A male friend had introduced her to casino gaming machines two years prior to her arrest, and for a time her gambling wins there and on horse races provided a welcome supplement to her income. Anna had always prided herself on her efficiency and professionalism at work. When her father became ill with coronary heart disease and she was required to escort him to medical appointments to translate, her employer complained about her disruptive absences. She began to experience guilt and feelings of depression, finding solace in her gambling. Increasingly she dreaded her workplace, and was preoccupied with her ‘escape’ to the nearby casino after work. Despite her declining performance she spent increasing periods at the casino, in part to ease her dysphoria but also in a bid to recoup the large quantity of money she had lost and repay accruing debts. She could rationalise her altered priorities because of her employer’s apparent lack of compassion and because she had had to lie to her parents to obtain a loan, which she expected another win would repay. During this period, Anna found no time for her friends, some of whom were aware of her problem, and she shunned their efforts to assist. She accused a good female friend of ‘jealousy’, became argumentative with fellow parishioners and avoided church and family gatherings, ostensibly due to ‘work commitments’. Her desperate bid to finance her gambling by stealing from her employer was exposed by the company’s accountant, and she made a full confession to police. She was released on bail and referred for psychiatric assessment. Anna presented as an attractive woman who was distressed and tearful about the charges. In particular she was fearful that her parents would learn of her shameful behaviour and would disown her and return to Greece. She then alleged that she was a victim, her gambling problem arising in the context of being stalked. She said that approximately four months previously she had met a Greek man on the train and that they had struck up a conversation. He had disclosed a few personal details but she knew little else about this man and did not speak with him again. However, on a few occasions she believed she was being followed by the man, in her car as well as on foot to and from the train station. She could not offer any explanation for his interest, though she thought he seemed a little ‘sleazy’ when they had

talked. She then claimed to receive some hang-up calls at work and also at home, the latter whenever she was home alone, ‘like he was watching the house’. She recalled once receiving at work an anonymous bouquet of flowers which she ‘knew’ was from him; this was not witnessed by work peers because she disposed of them immediately. She was vague regarding other unsolicited material, recalling there had been a romantic card once, unsigned, which she assumed was the work of her stalker, but there was no other correspondence and certainly nothing that arrived at her home address. Anna said she felt quite uneasy about this man’s intrusions which she perceived as threatening, though she could not recall receiving any specific threats. He did, nonetheless, ‘almost run me off the road’ on two occasions after allegedly tail-gating her. Despite her concerns she did not approach police or inform anyone else at that stage of her purported ordeal, nor had she documented any of these events or retained any evidence. She claimed to feel ‘ashamed’ that she had originally spoken freely to this strange man and people might suspect she had encouraged him. Anna’s allegations intensified as her court hearing approached. She gave dramatic accounts of strange noises in the night and shadows outside her window. She contacted her therapist (but not the police) several times, shrieking and sobbing and begging for protection. She gave clear descriptions of her pursuer’s car, but never quite succeeded in obtaining its registration number. She appealed to her therapist and lawyer to suppress her name from the court proceedings out of concern, she said, that any publicity would increase her vulnerability to her stalker. She recounted her experiences to family, friends and work colleagues, who responded with sympathy (even her employer), and she was easily encouraged to seek monetary compensation for the psychological effects. But when she learnt that monetary awards for victims of crime had been replaced by a new scheme which offered free counselling sessions, she promptly withdrew her application. Anna’s account of her victimisation was dramatic but inconsistent and could not be corroborated. When she was gently confronted with our suspicions that her allegations were fabricated, Anna’s initial defensiveness gave way to a tearful confession. Her allegations sympathetically reframed as a ‘cry for help’, she recounted some of the pressures of being an only child of non-English-speaking parents and her lifelong struggle to fulfil their hopes and dreams. She indicated that her secretarial job was unchallenging and that gambling provided a ‘release’ and introduced her to a wild and exciting facet of life. She was terrified of the prospect that her parents would discover her subterfuge, both her gambling and stealing and the subsequent false reports of stalking that she had hoped would protect her from the criminal justice proceedings and associated

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publicity. She did, however, consent to a family meeting with her therapist and a Greek translator, during which her legal troubles were revealed. Further family sessions were productive, with Anna’s parents showing some appreciation of the burden upon their daughter, and some easing of Anna’s familial responsibilities was successfully negotiated. The elderly couple helped support their daughter through her trial, which culminated in a community-based correctional order incorporating a requirement that she continue to receive counselling.

Anna’s malingered claims of victimisation were consciously intended initially to solicit the sympathies of family and friends shocked by her crime, and to manipulate the outcome of her court case and avoid criminal prosecution, or at least public exposure of her crime. Subsequently she attempted to obtain compensation on the basis of extravagant claims of psychological damage and financial loss. This illegitimate victim gave a dramatic but inconsistent and uncorroborated account of pursuit by an enigmatic, barely known stranger, who followed her, sent a card and some flowers, and telephoned her workplace and home. At no stage were his activities witnessed by others, and the calls were always received when she was alone. Her tormented presentation was at odds with her behaviour. In particular, her movements were not obviously restricted by fear in the manner that characterises the diffident stalking victim, Anna continuing to venture out alone at night to gamble. Many cases of suspected malingering are not clearcut. Turner (1997) has noted that it ‘merges with factitious disorder along a different continuum on account of the lack of gain to satisfactorily explain behaviour in many cases.’ In the above instance there were also elements of factitious disorder, in that the ‘victim’ had previously derived sympathy and attention from the sick role while recuperating from shoulder surgery, a role that she sought to recreate by feigning post-traumatic stress symptoms. While she clearly intended to benefit financially, monetary compensation did not appear to be the sole motivation for her subterfuge. Mohandie and coworkers (1998) evince a number of descriptors which may be found in cases involving consciously fabricated claims of being stalked, many of which were in evidence in Anna’s case. These will

be elaborated further below, but include the relative lack of fear and feelings of vulnerability exhibited by false victims, and their enlistment of significant others who rally around them. Discernible motives may well be present, but there is usually an absence of forensic evidence. The claims may arise in the context of situational stressors and family dynamics that include pressure within the family constellation. Other descriptors include the initial attributions of the complainant (‘I am a victim’, as opposed to the denial, disbelief and even self-blame typical of genuine victims), the presence of DSM-IV Cluster B personality disorders, a past history of manipulative and attention-seeking behaviour, and problems with the suspect, the false victim’s notion of stalkers often being derived from their portrayal in movies and magazine reports rather than real case dynamics. Instances of false stalking allegations purely for economic gain are rare in our experience, given the relatively small compensation and litigation-related monetary awards currently available to crime victims in Australia.

The UK/Netherlands study Sheridan and Blaauw (2004) sought to identify the nature and extent of false reports in two samples of self-proclaimed stalking victims. The study also explored whether the above typology was applicable to non-clinical samples. These subjects had either presented to a London-based charity (the Suzy Lamplugh Trust) that provides support and advice to victims of stalking, or to a similar organisation in the Netherlands (the Dutch Anti-Stalking Foundation). Postal questionnaires sought demographic data on the victim and (where known) the stalker, the relationship between the two, the nature, course and possible motives for the stalking, the impact of the stalking and sources of support. A 28-item General Health Questionnaire (Goldberg & Hillier, 1979) was also administered to the Dutch sample (Sheridan et al., 2001; Blaauw et al., 2002). The response rate for the Dutch sample was 57% but it could not be calculated for the UK sample. Returned questionnaires were independently rated by three psychologists but no additional corroborative

Assessing the false stalking victim

evidence was sought. In the UK sample, 17 of the 95 cases (18%) were considered by the researchers to be false reports, while in the Dutch sample 23 of the 262 cases (9%) were judged to be false, giving a total false-victim sample of 40 and a genuine-victim sample of 309 (i.e. a false reporting rate of 11.5%). In a further eight cases the veracity of the claims could not be established and these were excluded from the analysis. The 40 false victims in this study were then categorised according to our taxonomy (Pathé et al., 1999; see above). Consistent with the findings reported earlier in this chapter, the majority of false reports in the UK/ Dutch samples were judged to be made by delusional victims (28 cases, or 70% of the false-victim sample). Eight cases (20%) were considered factitious, three (7.5%) were assigned to the false revictimisation subtype and one case was judged to be a role reversal. There were no identified cases of malingering in this study, but it is unlikely that these individuals would derive any benefit from registering with such charities. In comparing false and genuine victim samples several discrepancies emerged between our earlier series and the UK/Dutch study. Sheridan and Blaauw (2004) found that false victims and their ‘stalkers’ tended to be older and to have a higher unemployment rate than their genuine counterparts, but there were otherwise few differences between the demographic profiles of the false and genuine samples. There were also no demonstrated differences between these samples in terms of victim psychopathology and suicidal ideation. False victims more often identified their ‘stalker’ as a stranger and claimed a longer duration of harassment, though it was unclear at what stage of their victimisation they had registered with the charity. They were less likely than true victims to report physical assaults, unwanted approaches and threats, or attacks upon third parties. No differences emerged in the reporting of other forms of harassment.

Assessing the false stalking victim The increased public attention accorded to the crime of stalking has generated a predictable rise in the number of victims coming forward in search of protection,

counselling and/or compensation. To date, services and resources have failed to keep pace, a situation familiar to rape victims before the appearance of rape crisis centres in the 1970s. Those confronted with stalking victims, whether they be health professionals, police, lawyers or the courts, generally have limited experience with these matters, hindering their capacity to recognise genuine suffering and offer appropriate intervention. Now, as in cases of rape and sexual harassment before it, we are finding that not all stalking victims are authentic, and that a failure to identify these spurious and occasionally mischievous complaints early can prove detrimental on a number of counts. There are several important reasons to recognise false victims. Their detection enables appropriate intervention at the earliest opportunity, especially for deluded individuals, who suffer at least as much as their genuine counterparts. Deluded victims are at risk of becoming increasingly desperate in the face of perceived inaction by authorities and may embark upon their own countermeasures, with occasionally tragic results. In one instance a woman who became convinced she was being stalked by her telephone company purloined her father’s shotgun and kept it beside her front door, determined to shoot the next ‘spy’ who approached. Former stalking victims who claim subsequent false stalking experiences may be no less disabled by their distorted perceptions, and their recognition and definitive treatment will ameliorate their distress and impairment. False victims place an unnecessary burden on the public purse, diverting scarce resources from genuine cases. Although relatively rare, false victims can infiltrate the depths of our medical and legal systems before their detection, accessing a disproportionate share of services. Malingering stalking victims in particular, alert to this ‘new’ form of victimisation as compensable, deprive true sufferers, who have often incurred substantial financial losses in their efforts to evade their stalker, of limited public funds. They attract negative publicity and increase the scepticism that already confronts many legitimate stalking victims. Identifying these individuals and excluding them from victim services preserves these resources and the reputation of stalking victims generally.

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Treating false victims as true victims will inevitably reinforce their ‘victim’ identity. Identification of nongenuine cases enables them to be excluded from victim support groups and other services that would only validate their victim status and expand their knowledge base. In instances of role reversal, endorsing false allegations exacerbates the trauma to the true victim and exposes them to spurious legal action. Finally, an awareness of false presentations and their management can assist the criminal justice system to make more informed decisions in relation to restraining order applications and the prosecution and disposition of individuals who are charged with making false reports to police. Mental health professionals have an important role to play in assisting the courts to distinguish between valid and fallacious allegations, and the psychopathology which might underlie the latter. In assessing self-proclaimed stalking victims, clinicians should be alert to the prospect of false allegations and the features that assist in distinguishing them from genuine presentations. The following is based on the extant research, and our clinical and forensic experience and observations.

Stage of presentation False victims are more likely than their genuine counterparts to identify themselves as victims, and they would appear to seek help at an earlier stage of the alleged stalking. True victims typically delay reporting because of denial, embarrassment, concerns they will be disbelieved, fear of retaliation or failure to appreciate the seriousness of their predicament. Unlike most false victims, many legitimate victims struggle to pinpoint the date of onset of harassment, as the behaviour may be well established before the victim acknowledges it and seeks help.

Account of stalking False victims’ claims may be plainly illogical, even bizarre, particularly for delusional or hypervigilant, selfreferential individuals. One should be wary, however,

of relegating all victims with implausible stories to the category of false victim, as stalkers occasionally engage in what may appear to the uninitiated to be quite bizarre behaviours. Case 1, who mercilessly stalked his estranged wife over a two-year period, convinced a helicopter pilot that he was a private detective conducting surveillance work, and followed his victim along a busy highway as she drove to work. She eventually evaded him and headed to the nearest police station but her story was not initially believed. Her credibility was strengthened by the fact that, as the son of a wealthy man, her stalker could actually afford these tactics. While false victims’ stories may also be disorganised and convoluted, genuine victims can, as a consequence of anxiety and traumatic amnesia, present muddled accounts of their stalking. Moreover, stalking often involves multiple acts of harassment over a long period, and few genuine victims, other than those who keep diligent chronological records, are capable of recounting events in an ordered narrative. Nonetheless, excessive disorganisation, especially in combination with other criteria, should alert the clinician to the possibility that the allegations are false. Claims that lack consistency and richness of detail should also raise suspicions. Individuals who are deliberately feigning victimisation often base their portrayal on the more sensationalist media examples of stalking. They may therefore struggle to elaborate on the details of their experience, and inconsistencies may be evident. Delusional victims and cases of false revictimisation can, however, construct plots that are heavily invested with detail which, though internally consistent, are at odds with reality. False victims are more likely to report stalking by a stranger or an unidentified person or group of people. They are less likely to report targeting of third parties. A striking feature of many false presentations is an insistence on being believed and of telling the truth. While this could be expected in any stalking victim whose experiences have previously been trivialised or doubted, the vehemence with which false victims maintain their claims, and the defensiveness that places priority on being right over being relieved of their problem, sets them apart from genuine targets. Their

Assessing the false stalking victim

rejection of a management plan that may include antipsychotic medication owes much to their limited insight and incapacity to accept any recommendations that do not appear to directly tackle the perceived source of their persecution.

Evidence False victims not uncommonly present with dossiers of evidence. While genuine victims of protracted stalking are likely to have accumulated a perturbing collection of documentation, most will indicate that little or no evidence was retained in the initial period, for reasons noted above (i.e. embarrassment, repulsion or failure to appreciate its significance). False victims provide documentation which is frequently of dubious significance, and deluded individuals in particular may provide material which is consistent with their disturbed mental state. In her study of factitious sexual harassment, in which can be found parallels with factitious stalking, FeldmanSchorrig (1996) recommends that the diagnosis should be considered when there is ‘a perplexing discrepancy between the plaintiff’s apparent sincerity and objective facts that seem to discredit her allegations’. One factitious stalking victim tearfully insisted she was being harassed by a local police officer, allegedly her former lover, and she described a series of threatening phone calls and sexual assaults. She stated he had broken into her home and on one occasion plunged a knife into her vagina. Subsequent investigations found that the alleged perpetrator was seconded to a country police station at the times in question, and telephone records and forensic medical examination similarly failed to support her allegations. Therapists may seek information from collateral sources, such as family members. Deluded victims may be reticent to allow access to these sources because they have become alienated from them, or because they know them to be sceptical. For those who consciously fabricate victimisation, access to significant others may be prevented because of fears that their subterfuge and relevant past history could be divulged. Genuine stalking victims generally welcome involvement of relevant third parties, who are usually able to verify the victim’s

story even when they may disapprove of the manner in which the victim is dealing with the problem. Mohandie and colleagues (1998) note that the false offences ‘always seem to occur in that brief window of opportunity when no independent third parties are present to corroborate them.’ Ultimately, however, some histories are simply difficult to verify or falsify on the available evidence. In the absence of other suspicious features it is unwise to categorise such cases as fraudulent. The passage of time and non-clinical investigations may reveal further clues.

Behaviour In cases of consciously fabricated false claims, discrepancies are often discerned between the nature and/or seriousness of the allegations and the complainant’s reactions to them. Despite alleging that her stalker lurked outside her apartment at night, Virginia (case 4 above) remained a regular party-goer, returning home alone in the late hours. Similarly, for Anna (case 5), the threat of attack did not curb her nocturnal gambling habits. Occasionally, one may observe extremes of overcomposure and gross overreaction. Despite her apparent fearlessness and invulnerability in the pursuit of her party lifestyle, Virginia would lock herself in the toilet cubicle at work and loudly scream that she felt like a ‘sitting duck’. One day, faced with the prospect of walking outside to the car park in broad daylight, she fainted. Although paramedics were called there were no injuries sustained nor any other medical findings. Another feature observed in conscious fabricators is a pushiness with police and an inappropriate determination to involve themselves in the investigation. The delusional and the falsely revictimised desperately seek the system’s cooperation, and they may involve many authorities in their quest for a resolution. Genuine victims, while no less desperate to end their stalking, are characteristically less insistent, even hesitant. One young law student told us she did not report her former boyfriend’s terrifying breaches of his restraining order because she feared the police would deem her ‘vexatious’. There are occasional spectacular exceptions to this, however. A company director who was being

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stalked by a former employee, accustomed to highly attentive and efficient staff, was astounded at the lukewarm response he received from the junior constable at his local police station and bellowed and cajoled until the senior sergeant was located and a detailed statement was taken. True victims more typically need to be coached to assert themselves with police, and while they are at pains to assist police few choose to insinuate themselves in the investigation.

Involvement of other therapists False victims may engage multiple therapists, moving from one to another at the first hint of scepticism. One deluded stalking victim who consulted us had already seen four counsellors. Therapy had been abruptly terminated on each occasion when her counsellor raised the spectre of mental illness and the need to specifically address this. She became increasingly reluctant to divulge her treatment history, although deluded patients are equally likely to give a detailed account of past treaters and their perceived shortcomings. Occasionally these professionals will be incorporated into the patient’s delusional system, intensifying distrust for each subsequent clinician. Factitious victims will be similarly reluctant to divulge past treatment situations in which their deceptive behaviours were exposed. Indeed, a middle-aged nurse who complained that a tradesman was repeatedly vandalising her home denied any treatment history. She was subsequently found to have had multiple admissions to coronary and critical care units for investigation of an arrhythmia. During one of these admissions she was observed to be self-administering cardiotoxic drugs. Such a history of factitious physical illness lent support to our suspicions that the ‘stalking’ was a conscious fabrication motivated by the need to portray herself as a victim.

Motives In some cases suspicions of consciously fabricated victimisation may be enhanced by positive evidence of secondary gain, such as financial rewards, the need to exculpate personal shortcomings or the desire for

attention. The latter may be patently manifest, with other parties rallying around and lavishing concern and sympathy upon the perceived victim. There may be renewed allegations at times when interest in the case appears to be waning (Mohandie et al., 1998).

Past history One should be alert to clues in the complainant’s past history that support a finding of false victimisation. They may be known to suffer a delusional illness, such as schizophrenia, a primary delusional or mood disorder, or organic pathology. Some may have a history suggestive of early dementia. Antisocial traits, deception, feigning illness, exaggeration or attention seeking may feature in the backgrounds of those suspected of consciously fabricating victimisation. Some factitious victims will have a poor work record, problems with their sexuality or a history of prior incapacitating injuries, self-mutilation or suicide attempts. They may also have experienced a more recent significant life crisis. While deluded and sensitive self-referential false victims can usually be diagnosed on the basis of the available history and examination, the clinical assessment may not of itself detect factitious or malingered victimisation. It may be non-clinical methods, including surveillance and police investigation, which ultimately have more to offer in establishing their diagnosis, or at least in excluding the existence of legitimate crimes.

Physical examination Individuals who exhibit a delusional illness on initial presentation, particularly in their later years, should be encouraged to undergo a thorough medical examination and investigations to exclude organic pathology. Munro (1999) notes that in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease a picture akin to delusional disorder may be evident before the features of dementia are manifest, and warns that one should ‘beware of the onset of an apparent functional psychosis of late life in an elderly individual, especially if the onset is relatively rapid and occurs in the setting of a previously well-balanced personality’ (p. 54). Dementia may be a

Managing the false stalking victim

feature in specific disorders such as HIV infection, Parkinson’s disease, Huntington’s chorea, Creutzfeldt– Jakob disease and cerebral syphilis. In practice, however, it is often difficult to persuade deluded victims that a physical assessment has any relevance to the issue at hand, unless they are also alleging poisoning or other forms of harassment that impinge on their physical wellbeing. In one such case, a 66-year-old woman with a recent history of headaches and transient ischaemic attacks believed that her symptoms were caused by an unidentified stalker who pumped toxic gases through her ceiling as she slept. She had no objections to a neurological work-up, and was found to have a multi-infarct dementia.

Managing the false stalking victim Management of false victims begins with their early identification and the treatment of the underlying disorder where indicated. As noted above, it is important to be alert to any opportunities that expand the false victim’s information base and reinforce their selfperception as a victim. In managing false victims it is particularly important to realise that in most cases they are distressed and disturbed individuals in need of care and treatment, not mere charlatans and liars. Considerable sensitivity is required to engage the false victim and to frame their situation in psychological terms, particularly when their claims are delusionally based. Often more can be achieved through focusing upon coexisting symptoms of depression or anxiety and offering treatment of the distress associated with those disorders.

Delusional victimisation Deluded victims require treatment of the underlying psychotic illness. The challenge lies in convincing individuals who have minimal insight into their psychiatric condition to accept antipsychotic medication and to persist with treatment after the imagined stalking abates. Direct confrontation is seldom helpful, and colluding with the patient’s beliefs may temporarily

strengthen the therapeutic alliance, but ultimately at the cost of perceived betrayal and greater alienation of the sufferer. A more constructive approach in many cases is the acknowledgement of some original source of harassment which has become, as is ‘inevitably’ the case, intensified as a consequence of understandable fear, hypersensitivity, hyperalertness and increasing isolation. Such situations, it should be explained, in a manner that is sympathetic and non-judgemental, make it increasingly difficult for the ‘victim’ to discern what is continuing harassment and what are innocent events that are misinterpreted as something more sinister. Therefore, in order to ascertain the extent of the actual problem, it is essential to reduce the excessive fear and arousal using established anxiety-reducing treatment. Throughout, the patient will continue to receive your support and attention, and their safety will remain paramount. This approach also has a facesaving function, enabling the patient to accept the role of psychiatric intervention. Deluded patients require referral to a psychiatrist who is skilled in the management of delusional illnesses, for the purposes of full psychiatric assessment (including medical examination) and the prescription and monitoring of appropriate pharmacotherapy. For many deluded victims who are psychotropic naive, clinicians must be mindful of the need to commence with a low dose of antipsychotic medication. With some deluded patients there may be no second opportunities to trial medication if their first experience is highly aversive. Side effects are of particular concern in this group, given that deluded victims frequently present later in life, when they are likely to be less tolerant of adverse effects, especially when there may be concurrent medical conditions and the potential for polypharmacy. Although care should be taken in prescribing atypical antipsychotics in elderly patients with dementia (FDA, 2005), we generally find newer antipsychotics such as risperidone to be well tolerated at initial doses of 0.5–1 mg nocte, and ultimately effective in diminishing or abolishing the patient’s delusions. Patients must be encouraged to remain on a maintenance dose, however, in order to prevent a relapse. Unfortunately, as the stalking abates and their anxiety dissipates it may be difficult to persuade them to

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persevere with what they may now perceive to be redundant treatment. Clinicians should always be alert to victims who, in their desperation to evade their persecutors and in the face of the system’s apparent failure to respond, become suicidal or even homicidal. These ‘victims’ should be questioned about their plans for dealing with their ‘stalker(s)’ and consideration should be given to civil commitment where indicated. Treating practitioners must also be vigilant for other behaviours or ill-judged schemes which may impact negatively on their deluded patients’ lives. One elderly pensioner who believed his home was being invaded by a stalker with Mafia connections inherited $20 000 from his late brother’s estate. With antipsychotic medication and counselling we were able to prevent him from squandering the much-needed windfall on surveillance equipment and private investigative services.

False revictimisation Genuine stalking victims who subsequently make false allegations generally respond to cognitive-behavioural measures that focus on the diminution of high arousal and cognitive distortions and the re-establishment of social networks. These false victims often respond to a similar approach to that outlined above, which provides a face-saving rationale for addressing anxiety symptoms as a matter of priority. It is important to consider the risk of suicide in this group, and it is necessary to remain supportive, optimistic and non-confrontational while avoiding collusion. Brutal honesty is both unhelpful and likely to destroy any last shred of hope for these individuals. Anxiolytic medication is frequently indicated in this group. There are several important principles of prescribing with this population. First, many will have no previous experience of psychiatric illness or psychotropic treatments. Starting doses should be low to minimise side effects, which can exacerbate the victim’s distress and dysfunction. One should avoid the use of benzodiazepines and other potentially addictive substances, given the protracted course in some cases. These may also compound the victim’s social and cognitive dysfunction. Furthermore, one must beware of

the disinhibiting properties of these agents in individuals who may be experiencing suicidal or even homicidal thoughts. Benzodiazepines are best reserved for bringing severe anxiety under rapid control, and in conjunction with psychological therapies that emphasise the development of internal controls over negative emotional states. As suicidal ideation is prevalent in this group, clinicians should avoid prescriptions that are lethal in overdose. The SSRI antidepressants have demonstrated efficacy in the treatment of PTSD symptoms (Friedman, 1998), and have appeal in this population given their efficacy in comorbid conditions such as alcohol abuse, depression and panic disorder (Brady et al., 1995). As noted in Chapter 22, drugs such as the noradrenergic and specific serotonergic antidepressants (NaSSA) have also shown promise in our clinical practice, but they have yet to be tested in controlled trials. The falsely revictimised may occasionally benefit from low-dose antipsychotic medication, especially in those cases that merge into the deluded category or who exhibit extreme suspiciousness or aggressive paranoia. In these instances similar principles apply to the treatment of deluded victims, although it may be possible to achieve a lasting remission without the need for long-term antipsychotic pharmacotherapy, when combined with cognitive-behavioural measures. Techniques that counter the commonly observed cognitive distortions (e.g. overgeneralisation or catastrophising that one negative event is proof of the inevitability of continued negative events) are likely to be far more effective with this group, having regrettably little impact in our experience with deluded victims.

Role reversal Although clinicians should be aware that some ‘victims’ will in fact be stalkers, it is unusual for them to present to mental health professionals, because they are not seeking treatment. Clinicians have a role, however, in the justice process in clarifying respective stalker and victim roles and the motives underlying the reversal. As discussed in Chapter 15, it is hoped that greater awareness of this phenomenon will prevent stalkers

Conclusions

using the legal system as another weapon against legitimate victims.

Factitious disorders When there are strong grounds to believe that the stalking allegations are factitious, the victim should be gently confronted. Mohandie and colleagues (1998) use a supportive, non-judgemental approach to these cases, clearly stating that ‘the events did not occur as you told us’, and then allow a face-saving exit for the victim by portraying the falsehood sympathetically as a ‘cry for help’. Factitious victims, like those with other factitious disorders, are customarily considered criminals and beyond therapeutic help. They may be prosecuted for making false reports to police, or on related charges, but, while legal controls may be useful in limiting their abuse of police resources, criminal sanctions should not occur in the absence of mental health intervention. Occasionally, engagement in treatment may be proposed as an alternative to prosecution, or they may receive a correctional order with a treatment mandate. Treatment of factitious disorders is directed at the underlying personality disorder and accumulated life problems. Many advocate a supportive, non-confrontational psychotherapeutic approach to factitious disorders in general, but Ford (1996) cautions, ‘the attention (nurturing) received while in psychotherapy may only reduce the need to seek the sick role … These patients remain at high risk for resuming their behaviours when support is no longer readily available to them’ (p. 246). It is important to exclude factitious victims, and indeed all false victims, from victim support groups that would only validate and reinforce their victim status. For a more detailed description of management approaches to factitious disorders, see Eisendrath (1996).

Malingerers Malingering has legal import but it is not a psychiatric diagnosis. Indeed, in the American Psychiatric Association’s latest classification system (DSM-IV-TR) malingering is listed as a ‘condition not attributable to a mental disorder’. As such, psychiatry has no role in its management. Goldney (1992) wisely cautions that, since we have no reliable or valid tools by which malingering can be confidently detected, ‘clinicians are well advised to simply state that they are unable to identify specific illness, rather than concluding that the patient must be malingering.’

Conclusions The vast majority of those who report stalking are genuine, and despite acknowledgement of their plight through legislative changes, sympathetic media depictions, and the emergence of victim information/ support groups, there remain many obstacles in their quest for personal safety and wellbeing. While it is not necessary to be suspicious of every self-designated stalking victim, this chapter delineates five broad categories of false presentations, and some of the features that should alert clinicians and other relevant professionals to their presence. While raising awareness of the phenomenon of pseudovictims may appear at odds with the more pressing need to obtain recognition and help for the far greater number of victims of genuine stalking, we are confident it will ultimately benefit our patients. With a more enlightened approach to the problem of dissembled victimisation and its management, we are better positioned to ease the burden currently experienced both by true victims and by those driven by equally real distress and disturbance to make false claims.

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20 Evaluating and managing risk in the stalking situation

Introduction Stalking came to prominence because it was regarded as a harbinger of violence. Subsequently it became clear that the damage inflicted on those who are stalked was not confined to assault but could also encompass significant social and psychological damage (see Chapter 4). Victims of stalkers usually ask about the chances of their being attacked or attacked again. Equally, however, they want to know how long the stalking is likely to continue, or if it has stopped whether it will recur. Those who have been subjected to an extended and distressing episode of stalking are often painfully aware of the impact it has had on their everyday lives and their mental health, so for this group their need is for information on the likely continuing social and psychological impact. Clinicians striving to help victims require some basis for responding to requests for such risk assessments, but even more importantly knowledge about how to reduce those risks. The police, the justice system, and above all clinicians dealing with those who stalk, also look for guidance on the future risks the stalker presents to the victim, and to any potential future victims. Again, the need is above all for advice about what should be done to reduce, or avoid, damaging outcomes (Mullen et al., 2006). The evaluation and management of the risks in the stalking situation for the victim should, therefore, encompass three areas: 1. How long the stalking is likely to continue, or the likelihood of it recurring if it has stopped. 2. The psychological and social damage which may be suffered.

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3. The chances of escalation to physical and/or sexual assault. Assessing and managing the stalker requires a primary focus on the risks they present to the victim. Nevertheless the risks that stalkers incur from their own behaviour also need to be considered. Stalkers usually see their problem in terms either of the recalcitrance and ill will of the victim, or of third parties intruding to prevent the realisation of their desires. Few stalkers can see beyond their current fixation to the dangers for them inherent in the continuing pursuit. In reality stalkers face a number of risks, including: 1. That their stalking will continue and become an allconsuming preoccupation, undermining their social and psychological functioning. 2. That their actions will attract condemnation from their peers, and eventually criminal sanctions. The conflict between the stalker’s desires and the victim’s interests are obvious, but they are at one in being at risk of damage from the stalking situation. There can be a tragic symmetry between the victim forced to live an increasingly restricted life in a state of constant fear, and the stalker devoting all his or her time and resources to a damaging and ultimately self-defeating pursuit. Both the victim’s and the perpetrator’s lives can be laid waste. Once more this is not to argue for equivalence between victim and perpetrator. In stalking there are real perpetrators and real victims, one offends and the other is offended against. What they share is the chance of disaster. A perspective which encompasses the risks to stalkers and victims has the advantage for health professionals of reducing the ethical dilemma, when treating a stalker, concerning whose interests one is

Risk evaluation: the general background

serving, the patient’s or the victim’s. To the extent that we contribute to stopping the stalking, or reducing its damaging consequences, we help both.

Risk evaluation: the general background A risk factor is simply a statistical relationship between an event, or state of affairs, and a future occurrence. If A, then B is more likely to occur. A risk factor assumes no causal connection, just a statistical relationship. Evaluating risk, however, is more than simply identifying and applying risk factors to establish the likelihood of the event (claims of actuarial approaches notwithstanding). We also wish to know, if A is preventable, will reducing its occurrence reduce the occurrence of B? The factors of importance in considering the risks faced by an individual include:  The likelihood of the apprehended event.  The seriousness of the event.  Over what period is the person likely to be at risk of the event occurring?  The imminence of the event.  Whether the event is a once-and-for-all or a potentially repetitive occurrence. These five aspects of risk do not generate a simple algorithm for the guidance of the risk-averse, as there are often trade-offs between the different components of risk. A distant possibility of a serious outcome may be regarded as of less moment by the individual than an imminent possibility of a relatively minor discomfort. The continuing popularity of cigarettes attests to this, though not all discounting of future dangerous possibilities in favour of avoiding short-term disadvantage is either foolish or without potential benefits. Living with risk is essential if life is to be lived with any style or interest. In the clinical situation, risk evaluations can be considered as having three levels: 1. To assess the group into which the individual falls with regard to the likelihood of the unwanted outcome, as well as its potential seriousness, imminence, duration and probability of repetition. 2. To identify those factors which in this particular individual operate to increase these factors.

3. To identify those factors which in this individual are potentially modifiable by management so as to reduce the likelihood or severity of damage. Thus we move from placing the individual in a group with a known level of risk, to characterising that risk, to attempting to identify the factors in this person which increase risk, to identifying those which can be changed to reduce risk. In this process we move from group attributions to individual solutions. Courts, tribunals, prisons and parole boards have a legitimate interest in the first level of attributing probabilities of future offending behaviours, without necessarily concerning themselves with reducing those possibilities. Hopefully, however, they will understand that in moving from placing an individual in a group with a reasonably well-defined level of risk to attaching that level of risk to a particular individual in the group they are attempting something much more difficult. Clinicians, who are, or should be, in the business of improving the lot of their patients, have a central concern with reducing risks, and in our opinion are on dubious ethical and professional ground if they confine their activities solely to the prediction of risk. That being said, in practice it is often useful to use somewhat different approaches to the various levels of evaluation. Placing an individual into a group with a high, medium or low risk of an unwanted outcome, such as violent behaviour, is often best accomplished by employing socalled static risk factors which are strongly related statistically to the outcome. These static risk factors include age, previous history of offending and gender. The management of risk obviously depends on identifying factors which are both related to the unwanted outcome, not just statistically but causally, and potentially open to change. The last decade or so has been marked by a wave of enthusiastic advocacy for the benefits of so-called actuarial risk assessment instruments (e.g. Quinsey et al., 1998, Silver et al., 2000). The advocates of actuarial risk assessment claim directly or by implication to be able to identify the likelihood that specific individuals will reoffend, or progress to various forms of interpersonal violence. These risk assessment tools are based mainly on retrospective, though occasionally prospective, studies of specific populations, such as

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discharged patients and released offenders. Risk factors are established from statistically significant associations between the outcome (usually offending behaviours) and pre-existing variables. When such significant associations emerge they become risk factors for the behaviour, irrespective of whether the risk factor and the outcome are causally related. Combining a range of risk factors with robust statistical associations increases the reliability of predictions. This process is usually advanced by employing linear or logistic regression. Actuarial instruments like the Violence Risk Appraisal Guide (VRAG) and the STATIC 99 (Quinsey et al., 1998, 2004; Hanson & Thornton, 1999) have established themselves as a central element in forensic mental health practice, and increasingly as a part of general mental health services. Actuarial approaches almost inevitably revolve around a limited number of variables which exclude uncommon though potentially critical factors. Thus, for example, pathological jealousy is not sufficiently common to emerge as an actuarially established risk factor, but studies on cases of morbid jealousy indicate a very high probability of significant violence. Actuarial instruments are developed on specific samples constituted in particular places at particular times. This can lead to problems with generalisability and, equally important, idiosyncratic and false attributions. For example, in both the VRAG and the MacArthur violence risk assessment tool (Quinsey et al., 1998; Steadman et al., 2000) the schizophrenic syndrome emerges as a protective, or at best a neutral, factor with regard to the risk of violence. But there is ample evidence from studies designed to specifically test the relationship that the schizophrenic syndrome is associated with far higher rates of violence than occurs in the general population (Mullen, 2006). The schizophrenic syndrome emerges as apparently protective because the samples used to construct these particular actuarial instruments compared the rates in the schizophrenic syndrome not to the general population but either to severely personality-disordered offenders or to substance-abusing patients, who do indeed offend more frequently. The problem is that if the assumptions about the schizophrenic syndrome implicit in these actuarial tools are applied to those

with the disorder they will produce a false attribution of risk. The actuarial method is designed to assign levels of risk not to individuals but to groups. The precision of the group prediction is determined by the size of the sample and the frequency with which the event of concern occurs. The rarer the outcome of interest (e.g. murder or plane crashes) the larger the sample required, and to some extent the commoner the event (minor assaults or fender benders) the smaller the sample. When you apply these results to individuals who were not members of the original study group, problems can arise. As you move from calculating whether they share the attributes of those in a particular group with a specific level of risk from the original sample to attributing a level of risk to them as individuals, so the variability in the estimated probability increases. In moving from stating that an individual falls into a group with a risk of future violence of x, to attributing to that individual the risk level x, what changes is not x but the variability, or confidence limits, of x. As you try to make finer and finer distinctions involving smaller and smaller subdivisions within a group with a particular level of risk, so the confidence that can be placed in the estimate decreases. The smallest unit is obviously the individual group member, and here the inherent variability of the risk prediction will be at its highest. The all-important measure is the confidence limits which attend any numerical estimate of risk derived from a risk assessment tool. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, few of the manuals currently available for risk assessment tools provide data on this variable, but Hart and colleagues (2007) have now published such data on two of the most commonly used risk assessment tools, the VRAG and the STATIC 99 (Quinsey et al., 1998, 2004; Hanson & Thornton, 1999). The manual of the STATIC 99 already contains much of this information, but its implications seem to be lost on many users. The VRAG, for example, claims to identify nine groups or ‘bins’ with a probability of future violent recidivism varying from 0% to 100% (Quinsey et al., 2004). The analysis of Hart demonstrates that rather than nine statistically separable groups there are only three distinct groups (bins 1–4, recidivism

Risk assessment and management in the stalking situation

0–26%; bins 5–7, recidivism 27–66%; bins 8 and 9, recidivism 58–100%). Even more importantly for an individual within each of these three groups, the confidence limits blow out to such an extent that the predictions become virtually meaningless. An individual in the highest risk group, for example, can with 95% confidence be said to have a risk of violent recidivism somewhere between 12% and 100%. An individual in the lowest statistically separable risk group has a recidivism risk between 0% and 86% (Hart et al., 2007). To be pedantic, it is meaningless to put confidence limits around a sub-sample of one, but what is not meaningless is the level of inherent uncertainty in risk predictions applied to individuals illustrated by this mathematical fiction. The VRAG and STATIC 99 were chosen as an illustration not because they are the weakest actuarial risk assessment instruments but because it may well be that they are the most robust statistically. In short, this problem effectively renders attempts to progress from group-based risk data to individual risk evaluations problematic. In an attempt to circumvent these problems with actuarial approaches the so-called structured clinical (or professional) judgement instruments were developed, notably the HCR-20 (Webster et al., 1997). This approach was developed not from specific samples but on the basis of using the literature on established correlations between variables and the outcome of interest, usually violent behaviour. A structured enquiry is employed into those established areas of risk as the basis for a clinically informed evaluation of risk. This approach has the capacity to introduce common sense and a wide range of potentially relevant factors into an evaluation. Equally, however, it can result in idiosyncratic conclusions which replicate poorly from professional to professional. A third approach to risk assessment has emerged, termed Classification and Regression Trees (CART: Brieman et al., 1984; Thomas et al., 2005). The CART approach uses a sequence of decisions (usually dichotomised) to produce a tree which terminates in a series of nodes differing in their probability of the outcome of interest. The CART method is claimed to be able to uncover complex non-linear relationships in large data sets, and to yield results that are orientated towards decision making (Schmitz et al., 2003).

Risk assessment and management in the stalking situation Initial, and admittedly tentative, attempts have been made to apply actuarial, structured judgement and CART approaches to predicting violence in the stalking situation (Meloy et al., 2001; Kropp et al., 2002; Rosenfeld & Lewis, 2005; Mullen et al., 2006). What follows will attempt to identify risk factors which raise the probability of adverse outcomes in the stalking situation, primarily with a view to developing interventions which reduce the potential adverse consequences. We conceptualise risk assessment and management in the stalking situation as a four-stage process: 1. Use known risk factors, irrespective of whether they are plausibly related causally to the outcome, or static and difficult or impossible to modify (e.g. male gender), to place individuals in broadly based groups with regard to the priority for active intervention. In practice this can rarely go further than saying they are in a high, medium or low priority or risk category. This broad evaluation of risk priority needs to be formulated taking account of the potential seriousness, imminence and cumulative impact of the stalking. 2. Identify current risk factors and future hazards which are both potentially remediable and causally related to an increased chance of violence, persistence, or social and psychological damage from the stalking. 3. Develop management strategies to reduce or remove the deleterious influence of these factors. 4. Evaluate the effectiveness of the interventions in improving outcomes for both victims and stalkers. Risk assessment in stalking situations is currently hampered by a paucity of either retrospective or prospective studies of representative samples. Clinicians and the legal decision makers do not, however, have the luxury of deferring action until such evidence emerges. They must, for the present, depend on integrating knowledge from stalking research, borrowing from the systematic studies of risk in other areas, and drawing on clinical experience (Mullen et al., 2006).

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The areas of risk that we are principally concerned with are the risk that the stalking will continue or recur, the risk of assault, and the risk of psychological and social damage. The current knowledge base for each of these is summarised below.

The risk of continued or recurrent stalking Victims of stalking face the risk that their harassment will persist for long periods, or that having ceased it will reoccur. Epidemiological studies have found exintimate stalkers to be the most persistent, strangers the least, with women more persistent than men (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Budd & Mattinson, 2000; Purcell et al., 2002). In forensic samples of stalkers, the duration of pursuit has also been reported to be shortest when strangers are involved and longest for ex-intimates and acquaintances (Lyon et al., 1999; Mohandie et al., 2006). Zona and colleagues (1993), against this trend, concluded that the duration of stalking increased as the victim–offender relationship became more distant. These findings are likely to be explained by their sample’s bias towards celebrity stalkers, who are a special group of intimacy seekers quite distinct from the more commonly encountered stranger stalkers (see Chapter 18). In our experience intimacy seekers, irrespective of whether they target celebrities, acquaintances, professionals or strangers encountered in public places, are potentially the most persistent of all stalkers. It is from the ranks of intimacy-seeking stalkers that come those who pursue for years or even decades. Thus, as so often at this stage in the development of stalking studies, the epidemiological evidence provides the broad context, with the clinical studies adding the all-important modifying detail. In an empirical study which sought to differentiate brief episodes of harassment from protracted stalking, Purcell and colleagues (2004a) found a duration of two weeks to be the critical threshold. Forty-five per cent of victims in their community survey (n = 196) were exposed to stalking intrusions which ceased within two weeks, with the median duration of harassment only two days. For the other 55% (n = 236) for whom the stalking intrusions lasted longer than two weeks,

the median duration jumped dramatically to over six months, with a modal duration of 12 months. The watershed of two weeks distinguished both the nature of the prior relationship with the victim, and the nature of the stalking (Purcell et al., 2004a). Those stalked for less than two weeks were overwhelmingly intruded upon by strangers (75.5%), but when the stalking persisted beyond two weeks the victims were usually stalked by someone they knew (82.5%), including exintimates in 21% of cases, acquaintances in 30% and workplace contacts in 22%. Prolonged stalking involved strangers in only 17% of cases. This study was based on a random community sample unlikely to contain many, if any, celebrity stalkers or other intimacy-seeking stalkers. Victims pursued for longer than two weeks were significantly more likely to be subject to surveillance, loitering, repeated telephone calls and contact via email, fax or letters. Despite stalking being characterised by repetitive pursuit which may wax and wane over prolonged periods (Hall, 1998; Pathé & Mullen, 1997), there has been minimal interest in identifying risk factors for recidivism among stalkers (McEwan et al., 2007a). Clinically, factors which reinforce contact between the victim and perpetrator predispose to a reoccurrence of the stalking. These factors include shared custody of children, or a shared work or living environment (e.g. neighbour stalking). To date, only one empirical study has examined reoffending in stalkers (Rosenfeld, 2003). Nearly 50% committed a further stalking-related offence, 80% of which occurred within 12 months. Youth, a prior intimate relationship, a diagnosis of a personality disorder (particularly the presence of Cluster B traits) and the absence of either a psychotic or delusional disorder were all associated with higher rates of recidivism. Gender, prior criminal offences, prior violent offences and prior psychiatric hospitalisations were unrelated to stalking recidivism. McEwan et al. (2008) recruited 200 stalkers from a forensic clinic and analysed the data in terms of what predicted persistence of greater or less than two weeks, 12 weeks and 52 weeks. Stopping in less than two weeks was predicted by being single, aged less than 30 years, a stranger to the victim, as well as following rather than

Risk assessment and management in the stalking situation

communicating via letters or emails. Persisting beyond two weeks but stopping before 12 weeks was associated with an intimacy-seeking motivation, being single, sending unsolicited materials and being over 30. The rejected ex-intimates who form such an important subgroup of stalkers were divided about equally between those stopping before 12 weeks and those persisting beyond. Those who persisted for longer were characterised by repeated letter writing, loitering near and spying on their ex-partner, being under 30, and having a personality disorder. The most persistent group, who continued for over a year, were prominently intimacy seekers, aged over 30, who pursued acquaintances and had made threats. A subgroup of resentful stalkers, tending to pursue those with whom they had had a professional relationship, also emerged as persisting for longer than a year.

The risk of psychological and/or social damage The psychological impact of being stalked is reviewed in Chapter 4. Fear, anxiety and increased suspiciousness are characteristic victim responses, with the victim often feeling in a state of siege. Symptoms of depression, anger and helplessness are frequently observed, with a significant minority of stalking victims acknowledging suicidal ideation in the wake of a pursuit that, for many, amounts to ‘psychological terrorism’ (Hall, 1998, p. 133). A number of factors may determine the level of psychological distress likely to be caused by stalking.

Gender Female victims of stalking report a greater psychological impact than male victims. Budd and Mattinson (2000) found female victims in the British Crime Survey more likely to report being ‘very distressed’ by their experience than men (57% vs. 32%). Similarly, Pathé & Mullen (1997) found females disproportionately represented among victims who met criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Male stalkers often create greater apprehension than female perpetrators.

Prior relationship The link between psychological damage and the nature of the prior relationship was not obvious in earlier studies of victims (Blaauw et al., 2002a, 2002b). In a random community sample there was a modest but significant increase in damage when pursued by an ex-intimate, with less psychological damage if the perpetrator was a stranger (Purcell et al., 2002). Clinically, the distress and disruption to victims is usually most obvious in ex-intimates pursued by their rejected partners, perhaps because of the higher levels of violence and intimidation combined with the complexity, as well as the intensity, of feelings stirred up in this situation (Pathé & Mullen, 1997).

Stalking behaviours Psychological distress was higher among victims who were subjected to repeated following and the experience of property theft or destruction (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Blaauw et al., 2002a). The psychological impact of physical violence is less clear, despite its intuitive appeal (McEwan et al., 2007a). Kamphuis and colleagues (2003) found a significant correlation between assault and psychological impact. The association with assault was not observed in Pathé and Mullen’s (1997) study but they reported that the experience of being threatened in a manner which induced fear was predictive of post-traumatic psychopathology. In a community study Purcell et al. (2005b) found that threats were predictive of both psychological damage and traumatic stress symptoms, but assault was associated solely with PTSD symptoms. The sense of powerlessness and vulnerability that accompanies threats may be even more productive of psychological distress in stalking victims than the reality of actual physical assault. Possibly this is because actual assaults may precipitate a more sympathetic and effective response, particularly from the police and the criminal justice system. Purcell et al. (2005b) also found a significant association between the duration of the stalking and the level of psychological distress, with those subjected to prolonged stalking more likely to meet the criteria for ‘caseness’ on the General Health Questionnaire

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(a measure of general psychiatric morbidity) and the Impact of Event Scale (a measure of post-traumatic stress). Kamphuis and Emmelkamp (2001) also reported that both duration and the nature of stalking behaviours were related to post-traumatic stress symptoms. Victims’ coping style is also reported to affect the psychological impact, with victims with a passive, withdrawn or avoidant coping style being more likely to experience higher levels of post-traumatic stress (Kamphuis et al. 2003). Withdrawal, however, may be an adaptive response to prolonged harassment and pursuit rather than an ineffective coping style (see Chapter 4). It must be noted that, with the exception of the community studies by Purcell et al. (2005b) and Thomas et al. (2008), each of the above studies has involved victim samples derived from clinical or other help-seeking contexts. Participants in these samples have identified themselves as victims and/or presented for psychological assistance. As such, the level of emotional distress and the predictors of such damage in clinical samples are unlikely to be representative of that observed in the general community. Nonetheless, clinicians faced with victims of stalking are likely to be dealing with levels of distress similar to those observed in clinical studies, suggesting that the factors noted above are likely to be important in a risk assessment. Female victims are more likely to experience social disruption as a result of being stalked because they are more likely than men to curtail social outings, avoid certain places or people and absent themselves from work (Budd & Mattinson, 2000). Duration predicts the degree of social disruption because the longer the stalking continues the more likely it is that the victim will move home, reduce their socialising, and require time off work (Purcell et al., 2004a). Pathé (2002) also notes that the high levels of anxiety experienced by victims can lead to increased substance misuse (e.g. tranquillisers and alcohol), often compounding a victim’s social and interpersonal difficulties. The advice offered to victims can exacerbate the problems. Victims may for very good reasons be urged to increase security, document intrusions and become more vigilant in day-today activities (Pathé, 2002). This may nonetheless indirectly contribute to the social isolation and to focusing

attention on the dangers of their situation. Clinicians must be aware that while emphasising the importance of such safety strategies is necessary, managing the impact of these lifestyle changes is also required to avoid further isolating and frightening already vulnerable victims.

The risk of assault In evaluating the risk of assault, ideally the variables to be borne in mind are not just probability but also the seriousness of likely injuries, the imminence and the chances of repetition. These factors often co-vary, but not always. Rejected ex-intimates are the most likely to assault, and although fortunately the vast majority of such attacks are more distressing and bruising than seriously injurious physically, a number inflict major and even fatal injury. If you ask how often rejected stalkers inflict significant physical injury, the answer is infrequently. But what if you ask how many of those killed by ex-partners were previously stalked? In a study from the USA, 68% of serious or fatal attacks on women by ex-intimate partners were preceded by stalking-type behaviours (McFarlane et al., 2002). Predictive of fatal attacks in this study were following, keeping the victim under surveillance, and threats, particularly in the form of notes attached to cars. This study did not clearly distinguish between those victims who had separated from their attacker prior to the attack and those still in or in the process of leaving the relationship, the latter situation being known to be associated with a particularly high risk of assault. The stalkers of celebrities and public figures very rarely attack, but when they do the assaults are not infrequently intended to inflict serious or fatal injuries (James et al., 2007). Studies on a range of populations and clinical samples have suggested that between 10% and 30% of stalking victims are assaulted. Rosenfeld (2004) conducted a meta-analysis of 12 studies examining risk factors for stalking violence, concluding that the best predictors were a prior intimate relationship between victim and stalker, the presence of explicit threats, a history of substance abuse, and the absence of psychosis in the perpetrator. Less clear associations included a diagnosis of personality disorder; poor education,

Risk assessment and management in the stalking situation

youth, and a revenge motive. Interestingly, Rosenfeld concluded that there was little evidence that physical violence in the stalking situation was associated with the presence of a criminal or violent history in the stalker, or the gender of either the stalker or the victim. James & Farnham (2003), who examined the risks of stalkers progressing to serious or fatal attacks, found somewhat different risk factors. Surprisingly, serious violence was not associated with a prior history of antisocial or criminal behaviour, or with unemployment. Studies have pointed to a number of possible risk factors for assault.

Prior relationship There is consensus that victims who have shared a prior intimate relationship with their stalker are at a high risk of physical violence (Zona et al., 1993, 1998; Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Harmon et al., 1998; Meloy, 1998a, 1999; Schwartz-Watts & Morgan, 1998; Mullen et al., 1999, 2000; Meloy et al., 2001; Sheridan et al., 2001; Rosenfeld & Harmon, 2002; Thomas et al., 2008). Community surveys also support the conclusion that ex-intimate stalkers pose the highest risk of physical violence. Tjaden and Thoennes (1998) found that 81% of women stalked by a former or current intimate had also been assaulted, although this figure is likely inflated by the inclusion of current intimates who engaged in domestic violence. Purcell et al. (2002) similarly reported that stalking-related violence varied according to prior relationship. Ex-intimates were the most likely to be physically harmed by their stalkers (56%). The next most likely group of stalkers to attack were estranged relatives or previous friends (36%), followed by casual acquaintances (16%), work-related stalkers (9%) and strangers (8%). Similarly, Rosenfeld & Harmon (2002) found that victims stalked by family members and ex-intimates were more likely to experience violence (62% and 51% respectively) than those stalked by acquaintances or strangers (25% and 8% respectively). This pattern fits with the theory initially proposed by Meloy (1998a, 1999) that violence is often a function of a strong attachment to the victim and the intense emotions evoked by the termination of that relationship.

These findings should not be interpreted, however, as suggesting that victims of stalkers who are not exintimates are in little danger of physical violence. For example, Meloy (1998a, 1999) and Rosenfeld & Harmon (2002) suggest that victims pursued by stalkers with a resentful motive are at elevated risk of assault, while Mullen and colleagues (2000) note that levels of assault by former acquaintances and strangers remain high, even if not as high as for ex-intimates. This is particularly the case if the stalker’s primary motive is predatory and preparatory to a sexual assault (Mullen et al., 1999, 2000). These stalkers are typically strangers to their victims, but are far more likely to be violent than other types of stranger stalkers (see Chapter 9).

Threats Between 30% and 60% of stalking victims are threatened (Zona et al., 1993; Harmon et al., 1998; Mullen et al., 1999). Early studies based largely on those who wrote to or intruded on celebrities and public figures suggested that the relationship between threats and subsequent violence was minimal (Dietz et al., 1991a, 1991b; Zona et al., 1993). It is likely, however, that these results were an artefact of the special nature of the samples used. From the studies of Dietz and colleagues it seems that public figures stalked by strangers were not infrequently the target of explicit threats (23% of stalked celebrities and 58% of stalked congressmen), but they were rarely approached, let alone attacked, by such threateners. In contrast, studies in forensic samples of stalkers have generally found a positive, albeit often weak, association between threats and subsequent physical violence. Harmon et al. (1998) found that 59% of stalkers in their sample who made explicit threats went on to assault their victim, whereas only 19% of stalkers who had not threatened their victims went on to assault. Meloy notes that a number of studies report high false positive rates (presence of explicit threats but absence of assault) and argues that the statistical relationship between threats and violence is generally found to be weak or non-existent (Meloy et al., 2001; Meloy, 2003). While the correlation coefficients calculated in these studies tend to refute the intuitively appealing relationship between threats and

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Table 20.1 Odds ratios relating assault to explicit threats Odds ratio 95% CI

χ2

Study

n

Harmon et al. (1998) Kienlen et al. (1997) Meloy et al. (2001) Mullen et al. (1999) Palarea et al. (1999) Rosenfeld & Harmon (2002) Thomas et al. (2008)

174 6.2

2.9 to 13.3 25.5**

25 54 145 223 204 432

0.2 to 5.2 0.9 to 9.7 1.7 to 7.9 1.6 to 10.1 1.6 to 6.3 4.7 to 22.5

0.9 2.9 3.7 4.0 3.2 10.32

n.a.a 3.3 11.9** 10.1* 12.7** 47.2**

unable to calculate χ2 due to cell sizes < 5 p ≤ 0.001 * p ≤ 0.01 The study of Thomas and colleagues is based on a random community sample of victims. The others represent studies of clinic samples of stalkers. a

**

assault, alternative methods of analysis suggest that the two variables are linked. Using data provided in published studies, odds ratios can be calculated to determine how the presence of threats influences the incidence of assault (Table 20.1). A composite of studies with published data indicates that physical assaults occurred three times more frequently in the group of victims who were threatened by their stalker than in the group who were not. Interestingly, Purcell and colleagues (2001) found that while rates of threats and assaults did not differ according to the stalker’s gender, female stalkers were significantly less likely than male stalkers to proceed from explicit threats to physical assault (30% vs. 49%). While this is only a preliminary finding and requires replication, it may suggest that stalker gender mediates (to some extent) the relationship between threats and assault. The above findings are all based on samples of stalkers, and it is likely that victims are a far more reliable source of information about threats and violence. Pathé and Mullen’s (1997) clinical survey of 100 stalking victims demonstrated that 45% of explicit threats were associated with a subsequent assault. Unfortunately, while epidemiological studies have reported the rates of violence and threats, the relationship between the two has been overlooked in the

two largest studies (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Budd & Mattinson, 2000). Purcell et al. (2002), however, reported that 44% of those victims who experienced explicit threats were subsequently assaulted and 73% of victims assaulted by their stalker had previously been explicitly threatened. In studies of victims who had a prior intimate relationship with their stalker, the presence of explicit threats was the strongest predictor of violent behaviour (Brewster, 2000; Roberts, 2005). Research into the association between threats and violence shows that while the majority of those who make threats do not actually proceed to physical violence, the majority of those who do assault their victim have previously threatened them. The only possible conclusion on the current evidence is that threats should be taken seriously, and appropriate risk management strategies should be advised in these situations.

Mental disorder Stalking is not a behaviour associated with any specific disorder or group of mental disorders, but occurs across a wide range of diagnostic categories. Attempts have been made to ascertain the relationship between broad classes of psychiatric symptoms and violence. The most commonly examined relationship has been that between psychotic symptoms, particularly delusions, and violence (Kienlen et al., 1997; Mullen et al., 1999; Farnham et al., 2000; Meloy et al., 2001). This research has generally concluded that psychotic stalkers are less likely to be physically violent than their nonpsychotic counterparts. The relationship between personality disorder and physical violence is unclear, despite attempts by a number of authors to examine personality disorders in isolation. Mullen et al. (1999) reported that stalkers with personality disorders and paraphilias were the most likely to assault their victims (55% and 45% respectively), yet Rosenfeld and Harmon’s (2002) analysis found no relationship between a personality disorder diagnosis and violence. Meloy et al. (2001) similarly found no association between personality disorder and violence, which they attributed in part to a relatively small sample

Risk assessment and management in the stalking situation

size and the under-diagnosis of personality disorder in the stalking population.

Substance abuse Substance abuse is associated with violence in a range of contexts, including the stalking situation (Rosenfeld & Harmon, 2002). Mullen and colleagues (1999) concluded that while substance abuse does predict assault, threats and property damage, it appears a secondary predictor, with other variables explaining more variance in the model. Brewster (2000) and Roberts (2005) examined the relationship between substance abuse and violence in ex-intimate stalking situations, with both reporting a relationship between the two variables. The extent to which substance abuse is accurately ascertained is questionable, however, particularly when based only on the victim’s report.

Prior offending and antisocial behaviour Stalking-related violence has been reported to be more likely when the stalker has previous criminal convictions (Mullen et al., 1999). In their small study of erotomanic stalkers, Menzies and colleagues (1995) found that the presence of antisocial behaviours unrelated to stalking added significantly to a model predicting stalker dangerousness. Brewster (2000) also found a significant univariate relationship between prior criminal convictions and violence, but this could not be validated in a multivariate analysis due to missing data. Harmon et al. (1998) likewise reported that stalkers with more frequent arrests prior to the current stalking offence were more likely to commit stalking-related violence. In contrast, Rosenfeld and Harmon (2002) and Meloy et al. (2001) found no relationship between prior criminal convictions, past general violence and violence in the stalking situation. In their large forensic sample, Palarea et al. (1999) concluded that the stalkers’ historical characteristics (including criminal history and general violence) did not contribute overall to the level of violent or threatening behaviour. Importantly, however, when a history of general violence was paired with ex-intimate stalking, this contributed significantly to the prediction of violence.

The evidence for an association between past criminal or violent behaviour and stalking violence is inconsistent, but it seems premature to abandon these variables in any risk assessment until the relationship is further clarified.

Demographic variables The gender of stalkers has repeatedly been shown to have no impact on the prevalence of either threats or assault (Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; Budd & Mattinson, 2000; Purcell et al., 2002; Meloy & Boyd, 2003). Schwartz-Watts and Morgan (1998), on the basis of a modest number of cases, reported no significant differences in age, gender, education or ethnicity between non-violent and violent stalkers, although Harmon and colleagues (1998) noted that younger, less educated individuals in their sample were more likely to be physically violent. In the latter study these variables remained significant even when analysed in conjunction with the victim–offender relationship and prior threats. Based on the current level of information, there is little to suggest that analysis of demographic variables will be overly useful when conducting a risk assessment of a stalking situation. Other factors, such as the prior relationship to the victim, appear to have far greater predictive ability.

Availability of weapons As with other areas where risk for violence is being considered, the question of the availability and presence of weapons arises. In stalking cases, research suggests that there is a wide degree of variability in the reported presence of weapons such as guns and knives (Meloy et al., 2001; Kienlen et al., 1997). The violence of stalking is rarely planned, except with the predatory type, and usually amounts to an impulsive lashing out with fists, feet and whatever comes to hand. If what comes to hand is a gun the result may well be one (or more) fatalities. Current studies may underestimate the importance of weapon usage, because when this happens the offender is likely to be charged with serious or fatal violence and the

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preceding stalking is forgotten, or relegated to a matter of no consequence.

The assessment process Initial assessments of stalkers often occur in the context of pre-sentence or parole board evaluations. Victims may be encountered in a wider range of contexts, many seeking help from general rather than forensic mental health professionals. Stalkers usually lack insight into their behaviour and tend to deny, minimise and rationalise their actions. Victims often minimise the experience of stalking and over-emphasise their own responsibility for the harassment, which should be of no surprise to anybody experienced in working with victims in other contexts. Conversely, the problem of false claims of stalking victimisation cannot be entirely ignored (Pathé et al., 1999; see Chapter 19). This makes it essential to assess collateral information from such sources as witness statements, victim impact reports, judges’ sentencing remarks and professionalto-professional contacts, confidentiality allowing. Attempts to contact the victim when assessing the stalker, or the stalker when assessing the victim are, in our opinion, best avoided. However skilfully managed, such contacts tend to be experienced by the victim as the professional acting as an agent of the stalker, and by the stalker as support for their beliefs (that there is a misunderstanding within a mutual relationship rather than a unilateral imposition of unwanted attentions) (Mullen et al., 2006). Information gaps are inevitable, particularly when interviewing victims whose stalker has not yet been brought before the courts. In many cases of persistent stalking, however, the victim is likely to know, either directly or by repute, something about the factors central to the stalker’s risk profile. Extrapolations about the victim’s risk profile based entirely on the stalker’s account are hazardous, but fortunately one can often obtain victim impact reports and witness statements. A final caveat: Risk in the stalking situation depends on the interaction, over what may be a long time, of a range of potentially fluctuating and interrelated factors. Risk changes as situations and people change. This is

good news for the possible efficacy of management approaches directed at reducing risk. It is bad news for the stability of any given risk assessment, which in practice needs to be repeatedly updated (Craig et al., 1984).

Stage 1: Assigning to high, medium or low risk categories Though the risks of persistence, social and psychological damage and assault are predicted by different variables, there is a considerable degree of overlap. The risks for assault have been the most extensively researched. Those at highest risk are ex-intimates who have been threatened, in whom the stalking has already continued for more than two weeks, and whose stalker is under 30 years of age. Those at lowest risk are pursued by strangers who have not made threats and whom they are unlikely to encounter by chance. Those whose stalking lasts less than two weeks are also at low risk, but this is not helpful as you rarely have to evaluate risk at such an early stage. Mediumrisk groups are characterised by being stalked by an acquaintance or professional contact and an absence of threats. (Table 20.2). Rosenfeld and Lewis (2005) employed a regression tree approach to assessing the risk of violence in stalking cases, working on a database of 204 individuals evaluated for stalking and related offences. The overall probability of violence in their sample was 34%. The high-risk group was defined as having a violence rate above this, the low-risk group as less than 15% violence, with those in between falling into their medium-risk group. They developed three models but considered the best was one that used nine variables: being under 30 years of age, having not completed high-school education, threats, prior intimate relationship, revenge motivation, psychotic, personality disordered, substance abusing and criminal history. Using their CART model, the first variable was high-school graduation. The variables which emerged as predictive or protective of violence interestingly varied according to context. This approach is promising but, as the authors emphasise, will require the development of a large enough database to allow the analysis to proceed with sufficient reliability.

The assessment process

Table 20.2 Risk of assault Low

Medium

High

Stranger Incompetent suitor type Resentful type Psychotic stalker Celebrity or public figure victim Good legal protections, well administered

Acquaintance

Rejected and predatory types

Threats from females Substance abuse in stalker Troubled primarily by communications rather than contacts Inconsistent application of legal protections

Ex-intimate Threats from males Prior property damage, break-ins Antisocial stalker Victim who confronts and threatens Continuing forced contact (e.g. shared child custody) Poor legal protections

Table 20.3 Risk of psychological damage Low Brief duration Male victim Incompetent suitor type Stranger Celebrity or public figure victim Victim with strong social supports Good legal protections and responsive criminal justice system

Medium

High

Acquaintance

Lengthy pursuit

Assault Repeated communications Intimacy seeker Reasonable legal protections, poorly and erratically applied

Female victim Rejected or resentful type Ex-intimate Prior professional relationship Highly intrusive pursuit with break ins and property damage Threats with or without assault Socially vulnerable victim Previous victimisation Poor or absent legal protections

The risks of sustaining psychological and social damage are highest in those stalked for lengthy periods of time using multiple intrusions. Having a male stalker and being threatened makes a modest contribution to an increased risk of such damage. Those at lowest risk are pursued by strangers, which is often associated with a brief period of pursuit (Table 20.3). Those at highest risk of being stalked for very lengthy periods are pursued by intimacy-seeking or resentful types of stalker. A prior professional relationship and being initially a stranger can be associated with longer pursuit. Older psychotic subjects, those who ignore legal sanctions and those who have previously pursued the victim are all at risk of extreme persistence. Brief pursuit is predicted by a stranger stalker under 30 who is single and incompetently pursuing a

relationship. Having previously stalked a different victim is also predictive of persistence. Medium-length pursuit is found in rejected type stalkers, those who make repeated attempts to communicate or spy upon the victim, and in stalkers with a personality disorder (Table 20.4). There is a temptation to simplify the process of evaluation by opting for a single variable that has a strong association to risk, most obviously the nature of the prior relationship (Mohandie et al., 2006). Using prior relationship as the sole variable, it is possible to place stalkers into risk categories for attack which are high (ex-intimates), medium (acquaintances and strangers who have been in direct contact) and low (strangers without prior direct access to victim) (Mohandie et al., 2006).

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Table 20.4 Predicting persistence Brief duration (weeks)

Lengthy duration (months)

Very lengthy duration (over a year)

Incompetent suitor or predatory type Age under 30 years Stranger Single Following and intruding but not communicating Active intervention, usually from police Previously stalked another victim

Intimacy seeking

Intimacy seeking or resentful

Rejected and resentful types Repeated communications Loitering and spying Ex-intimate or acquaintance

Prior professional relationship or stranger Age over 30 Psychosis Failure of legal protections, e.g. restraining orders Previously stalked same victim

Personality disordered Continuing contact enforced by circumstances

The table combines the results of systematic studies and clinical experience to provide a general guide to the risks of persistence.

Though this provides a simple and effective first stage in a clinical risk evaluation, it does not enable us to progress beyond identifying large groups such as the victims of ex-partners or of strangers. This is inadequate, given that we know that only about half of expartners who stalk will also attack, and that even though strangers are far less likely to attack, somewhere in the region of 10% will do so (Rosenfeld & Harmon, 2002; Purcell et al., 2002). Nor does it provide any guidance on how to reduce the chances of attack, disruption to the victim’s life, or continued harassment. Nothing can change the nature of the victim’s prior relationship to the stalker. Taken in isolation, all that a risk assessment based on such an approach can be used for is to justify incapacitation by imprisonment, or some other form of restriction of the stalker’s access to the victim.

Stage 2: Identifying current factors and future hazards which increase risk but are potentially remediable (the stalking risk profile) Clinically, whether faced with a stalker or the victim of such behaviour, the task is both to gain some picture of the likely progress of the stalking and to identify factors whose modification may improve the outcome. Developing a stalking risk profile provides for a more subtle analysis of likely outcomes, and above all directs management strategies which go beyond incarcerating the stalker (which is often not an option, or only a

short-term solution). The risk profile covers a number of domains of risk, of which prior relationship is but one. The domains which contribute to the evaluation and management of risk in the stalking situation are: 1. The nature of the relationship between the stalker and the victim. 2. The stalker’s motivations. 3. The psychological, psychopathological and social realities of the stalker. 4. The psychological and social vulnerabilities of the victim. 5. The legal and mental health context in which the stalking is occurring.

Domain 1: Relationships in stalking Stalking is a drama played out between two people in a relationship of conflict and dissonance, albeit on occasion a relationship constructed entirely in the stalker’s fancies and fantasies (Mullen et al., 2006). Pathé (2002) has suggested that the potential relationships between stalker and victim can be that of prior intimates, friends and neighbours, casual acquaintances, professional contacts, workplace contacts, strangers encountered in day-to-day interactions, strangers who are public figures and celebrities, and secondary victims who have become entangled in the stalking because of their actual, or supposed, relationship to the primary victim (see Chapter 4). These victim types may overlap: for example, workplace and professional stalking usually

The assessment process

involves non-intimate acquaintances. A more parsimonious division has been proposed into acquaintances, intimate and non-intimate, and strangers, who are either public figures or encountered in everyday interactions (Mohandie et al., 2006). As a broad generalisation, ex-intimates are the stalking victims most likely to be threatened and assaulted. A history of domestic violence and/or jealousy prior to separation has been reported, in some but not all studies, to increase the risk of violence in this group (Brewster, 2000; Mullen et al., 2000; Morrison, 2001; Roberts, 2002). Mechanic and colleagues (2000), who studied a sample of battered women, found stalking behaviours were more closely linked with psychological intimidation than with overt physical violence. The stalking which follows the end of an intimate relationship can be viewed at least in part as the continuation of the attempt to control and subjugate the partner (Logan et al., 2000; Resnick, 2007). This is not the whole story, however, as a proportion of those who stalk ex-intimates come from the dependent and needy types of partner rather than the controlling and intimidating. Stalkers in this group are seeking not to assert power but to regain dependence, with intimidation and violence, if and when it occurs, stemming from rage and panic at desertion or frustrated hopes. The dramatic differences between the risks of assault for ex-intimates compared to strangers, particularly those who are celebrities or public figures, accounts for a significant amount of the variance in this domain. Those who stalk victims with whom they have had no prior relationship are as a group at the lowest risk of launching an attack. The majority of strangers who stalk those they have encountered by chance in public places are social incompetents ineptly pursuing hopes of a sexual encounter or some form of friendship. This group only very occasionally become physically assaultive. In the case of strangers pursuing celebrities or other public figures, a significant proportion are hopefully seeking intimacy, which rarely sparks violence. Those pursuing public figures out of resentment about some perceived grievance rarely have the opportunity to directly approach, let alone assault, their target. But not all of those who stalk strangers can be placed in the mostly harmless category. The predatory

stalker (see Chapter 9) almost always targets strangers but arguably is the type of stalker most likely to assault the victim, and is certainly the most likely to inflict serious injuries. Predatory stalkers do not usually figure prominently, if at all, in clinical samples of stalkers. Victim surveys focusing on stalking will rarely identify this type, as their targets usually only know of their existence when they attack. It is then the attack, not the stalking, which defines them for the victim and the criminal justice system. However, for those who work with serious sex offenders the predatory stalker will be a familiar type, particularly among serial rapists and predatory child molesters. The predatory stalker is one of the hidden faces of stalking but nonetheless all too real. Just occasionally such stalkers come to clinical attention prior to having attacked their victim. It would be unwise to consign such men to a low-risk category on the basis of some rule of thumb risk assessment that says strangers pursuing strangers are low risk. To summarise our clinical experience, and the discussion of the role of relationship in the various areas of risk presented earlier: (1) Persistence seems highest among ex-intimates and lowest amongst strangers, with the exception of the small minority pursuing intimacy or fixated on public figures. (2) Social and psychological damage in our experience is greatest among those stalked by ex-intimates and those pursued by work or professional contacts. (3) Recurrence with the same victim is highest in ex-intimates, but recurrence with a new victim is highest for those who have pursued strangers. (4) Assaults occur all too frequently in exintimate stalking, but it is the predatory stalker for whom attack is the intended outcome of the stalking.

Domain 2: Motivation of the stalker On the basis of our clinical experience we believe that the stalker’s motives, both those which initiate the pursuit and those which sustain it, are central to risk assessment. The assessment is aided by applying the typology used in this book, and dividing stalkers into rejected, resentful, intimacy seekers, incompetent suitors and predatory. The rejected present a high risk in all areas, whereas the incompetent are a risk largely for threats, and for recurrence targeting a new victim.

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Intimacy seekers are persistent, and prone to recidivism with the same victim; they rarely assault, but if they fixate on those to whom they can gain direct access they are at best a nuisance and at worst a source of considerable psychological and social stress. Health professionals should be particularly wary of this group, as when thwarted they can make mischievous and damaging complaints (see Chapter 17). The resentful create considerable disruption and distress to their victims by a combination of harassment, veiled threats and vexatious complaints, but rarely assault. Again, however, resentful stalkers present particular problems for the health professional because of their propensity to make vexatious complaints. In the predatory the risk is focused on the high probability of sexual assault. The typology interacts with diagnosis: for example, the presence of a psychotic illness with persecutory delusions is likely to increase the risk of violence in the resentful, probably because of heightened fear and anger, but a psychotic illness associated with erotomanic delusions may well decrease the risk of violence in the intimacy seeker, as they know, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, that they are loved and eventually success will be theirs (Mullen et al., 2006; see Chapter 8). In combination, the domains of relationship and motivation provide a general guide both to the degree of risk presented by the stalker and to the priority which should be assigned for active intervention. Table 20.5 sets out our views on the interactions between prior relationship and stalker typology. One interaction which requires highlighting is that of a resentful type of stalker targeting a celebrity or public figure with whom they have had no or minimal prior contact. Typically this situation arises with a stalker pursuing a grievance who either focuses their attention on a public figure because they blame them for their problems, or believe they have the power to rectify any actual or supposed injustice. This group occasionally intrudes directly on the public figure. Like most resentful stalkers, they only rarely resort to physical violence, but nonetheless this group of resentful stalkers forms a significant proportion of a small population: the assassins and would-be assassins of prominent people (James et al., 2008) (see Chapter 18).

Domain 3: The stalker’s psychological, psychopathological and social functioning Domain 3 covers a range of risk factors arising from the stalker’s psychological and social functioning. In keeping with contemporary approaches to violence risk assessment generally (Webster et al., 1997), these factors will be considered under three headings, the historical, the current clinical state, and future hazards. The historical factors, like the domains of relationship and typology, function primarily as a guide to the general level of risk and the priority which should be assigned the case. The current clinical state and future hazards, in contrast, encompass risk factors which, because many are open to modification, act as a guide to management strategies aimed at reducing risk. In assessing the range of general risk factors, we find it useful to use elements of structured professional judgement risk assessment schemes such as the HCR-20 (Webster et al., 1997) and the Spousal Assault Risk Assessment (Kropp et al., 1999), as indicated. When used, such measures can be considered a necessary but not sufficient consideration of risk. If violence risk measures suggest high levels of risk for violence, it may be true that regardless of the details in the stalking situation, the stalker may be at risk for violence. However, it is rarely sufficient to rely solely on violence risk assessment schemes, since they do not take into account the factors specific to the stalking situation.

Historical risk factors The historical factors of relevance to the probability of violence are a mixture of general risk factors for violence in almost any context and those specific to the stalking situation. Violent behaviour is more likely to occur in anyone who has a prior history of violence or antisocial conduct, substance abuse, and/or social and relational instability. The stalker’s access to weapons and facility with their use will potentially increase the seriousness and even lethality of any violence which emerges. A number of elements in the stalker’s history are of particular relevance to all three areas of risk: 1. Any history of previously stalking others. Prior patterns of behaviour are likely to be repeated.

The assessment process

Table 20.5 A general assessment of risk based on the interactions between prior relationship and stalker typology

Rejected

Ex-intimate

Stranger (with contact)

Stranger (without contact)

Acquaintance or work contact

Professional contact

v – high

N/A

N/A

N/A

N/A

h – high p – high Intimacy seeker

N/A

v – low h – high p – high

v – low h – low p – high

v – low p – high h – high

v – medium h – high p – high

Incompetent suitor

N/A

v – medium h – low p – low

v – low h – low p – low

v – low h – high p – low

v – low h – high p – low

Resentful

v – medium h – high p – medium

v – low h – high p – medium

v –medium h – medium p – medium

v – low h – high p – medium

v – low h – high p – medium

Predatory

N/A

v – high h – low p – medium

v – medium h – low p – medium

N/A

v – high h – low p – medium

v, attack; h, psychological and social disruption; p, persistence

2. The nature of stalking behaviours. Those who are more intrusive in terms of confrontation and forcing their way into the victim’s home or place of work are at high risk of becoming assaultive (Farnham et al., 2000; MacKenzie, 2006). 3. Breaches of restraining, intervention or court orders increase all types of risk, including that of violence. 4. Violence in our experience is not infrequently preceded by a history of an escalating pattern of harassment and intrusiveness. A history of having a psychotic disorder, particularly one characterised by delusional preoccupations with specific individuals, is usually taken as an indicator of an increased risk of violence. In the stalking situation it depends to a far greater extent on what has been the nature of the delusions. The erotomanic preoccupations of the intimacy seekers predict persistence and, if the stalker has access to the victim, harassment, but not violence. In the resentful the presence of persecutory, grandiose or religious delusions do in our experience increase the risk of violence. Personality traits have a complex interaction with risk in stalking. In most situations a history of obsessional

traits is considered irrelevant, or even reassuring, when assessing risk – but among stalkers such characteristics are associated with persistence, intrusiveness and probably violence. The dependent and avoidant of the world can usually be consigned to a mostly, if not entirely, harmless basket, but not if they become stalkers, when exactly those traits drive a desperate persistence and on occasion a troubling sense of entitlement. Historical factors, by their very nature, are not susceptible to change, though the current manifestations of a pre-existing mental disorder or personality vulnerability can often be addressed and modified to some extent.

Current clinical risk factors As with the historical risk factors, the current clinical risk factors are divided into those relevant when considering general risk for violence and related harms, and those specific to the stalking situation. Again, measures such as the HCR-20 (Webster et al., 1997) are useful, but not sufficient. The general factors and the associated management possibilities include the following:

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1. Risk factor – mental state. Disturbances in the mental state can be of both general and stalking-specific relevance. The violence that can emerge from confusion and agitation is rarely relevant in the stalking situation. Delusional preoccupations of a general persecutory content, or about infidelity, can increase violence here as in other contexts. Persistence is linked to erotomanic delusions. Depression is reported to increase the risk of violence, particularly among the rejected. Management. Vigorous treatment of active symptoms of psychotic or affective disturbances is essential. Even if it makes no direct contribution to reducing the risks associated with the stalking, without such treatment other areas of functioning will be difficult, if not impossible, to effectively manage. 2. Risk factor – substance abuse. Continuing drug or alcohol abuse not only increases the likelihood of impulsive and disinhibited behaviour but, like disturbances of mental state, tends to disrupt or nullify all therapeutic efforts. This elevates substance abuse when present to a prime target in the management of stalkers. Management. Managing substance abuse is never easy. In our experience among stalkers the abuse has often escalated to problematic levels relatively recently, either playing a role in precipitating the behaviour or as part of the response to the situation. The recency makes management somewhat easier. Further, stalkers are frequently social isolates and their abuse is not reinforced and sustained by peer groups, as is so often the case in other groups of drug and alcohol habitués. Ideally stalkers should be referred to specialist substance abuse services, then their therapy can continue alongside the independent management of the substance abuse. Occasionally it is sufficient to refer the patient to Alcoholics Anonymous if alcohol is the main problem. All too often the best that can be done is basic substance abuse management carried out alongside the management of the stalking situation, but this is far from ideal. 3. Risk factor – attachment style. Those dismissive of intimacy in our experience are more likely to be violent, whereas a secure attachment style, often claimed by intimacy seekers, demonstrates a reassuring loss of contact with reality (MacKenzie, 2006).

After all, why become difficult and aggressive when you know that eventually your target will come to realise they love you in return? Management. Attachment style tends to be an ingrained attitude to the world, but at least in theory making the patient aware of the assumptions they make repeatedly about others can begin a process of change. Secure attachment styles cannot simply be taught, but less dismissive or less insecure styles can be encouraged. 4. Risk factor – empathy and attitude to victim. Any capacity for empathic concern is reassuring except in the resentful, whose behaviour is reinforced by a knowledge they are causing suffering. Management. Increasing victim empathy through cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) approaches is a well-established module in many programmes directed at sex offenders. Drawing on this experience, it is possible to work with stalkers to make some at least more aware of the distress they create. Empathy can sometimes strike unexpectedly. One of our patients had continued to stalk her ex-partner despite restraining orders, two convictions for stalking, and receiving a suspended sentence. In therapy she was pleasant and cooperative, accepting each and every attempt to change her behaviour, but all to no effect on the stalking. Following an early-morning doorstep confrontation with her ex-partner which ended with him slamming the door in her face she went to the rear of the flats and set his car on fire. This was no ordinary car but an early-model Porsche on which the ex-partner had lavished years of love, attention and money. She watched from a distance as her ex-partner attempted unsuccessfully to douse the flames. She subsequently admitted delight and satisfaction at watching his frantic but futile efforts. Eventually the fire was extinguished and the car was a charred ruin. At that point the ex-partner fell weeping to his knees. As she watched him convulsed by sobs she was overwhelmed with sympathy and guilt. She was also forcibly struck by the revelation that his interest and concern for her had never approached that which he bestowed upon the car. She never attempted any further contact with the ex-partner. She was never questioned by

The assessment process

the police or insurance assessors about the arson. Perhaps in the end the ex-partner decided even his beloved car was a price worth paying to end the stalking. 5. Risk factor – anger (state-trait anger). Violent behaviour in stalkers is associated with both poor control of anger and failure to acknowledge angry emotions (MacKenzie, 2006). Management. A range of CBT approaches to improve anger control exist and can be applied to stalkers. The anger management programmes are often group-based, and are always better administered by an experienced therapist. Ideally the anger control issues should be managed independently by a specialist with the relevant experience. Failing that, some aspects of CBT approaches can be integrated into the management package. 6. Risk factor – paraphilias. Presence of sadistic sexual arousal patterns is of specific relevance to predatory stalking, where it is a primary driver of the risk of assault. Management: this group require a structured sexoffender programme geared to their specific needs (see Chapter 9). 7. Risk factor – intellectual function. Poor verbal skills both make management difficult and predispose to physical rather than verbal expressions of feelings and frustrations. Stalkers as a group have high rates of abnormalities on structured intelligence tests, with significantly lower verbal than performance scores (i.e. discrepancy of greater than 10 points recorded on the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale (WAIS-2): MacKenzie, 2006). This may predispose to the aggravating experience of having a far better understanding of the situation than an ability to use words to manage and manipulate that situation. Such frustration may well increase the stalker’s propensity to violent outbursts. Management. In a proportion the performance/ verbal discrepancy reflects a combination of having received a substandard education and a lack of selfconfidence when confronting any tasks requiring verbal ability. A number of such individuals responded well to feedback on their test results: this contradicted their long-held view about their

own stupidity, as did encouragement and support in enhancing their education and qualifications.

Future hazards The hazards that a stalker may encounter which either predispose to violence or reduce the controls on such behaviour include the following: 1. Risk factor – continuing contact. Likely future contact with the victim, for example shared child custody or work environment, will, unless adequately managed, predispose to persistence and recurrence. Management. Every effort should be made to prevent direct contact or direct communication between stalker and victim. In practice, particularly with expartners, it may be the victim who initiates contact on the assumption that ‘sorting out a few practical issues’ over such matters as finances or child access will be harmless. It is usually the very reverse of harmless. Stalkers have to be clearly and repeatedly informed that irrespective of who initiates contact they are the ones at risk of future charges and prosecution. Working with victims, the risks of giving inadvertent encouragement through the most mundane of communications or contacts has to be emphasised for their sake, and out of fairness to the stalker. Avoiding contact can in some circumstances involve the stalker changing workplace, habitual travel patterns and even residence. For ex-partners, particularly if they share children, complex arrangements may be required to ensure a secure barrier between the couple, with intermediaries for all potential points of contact. 2. Risk factor – unrealistic optimism. Some stalkers seem plagued by a groundless certitude about their future capacities to resist falling back into stalking behaviours. This is particularly true of the rejected and the incompetent types. ‘It will never happen again,’ is the refrain. This overconfidence in their self-control makes the stalker regard considering changes in lifestyle redundant. Even such obvious precautions as changing the gym they attend or the times they attend, so as not to encounter the expartner, are all too often dismissed as unnecessary. Management. The stalking behaviour of the rejected is not infrequently inflamed, or even sustained,

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by continuing contact. Not surprisingly, when people have lived together or have had a long-term relationship, the venues and timing of both their leisure and routine activities tend to overlap. Rejected stalkers, even when they can be brought to recognise that being in the same place at the same time as the victim is not the cleverest of ideas, will still often try and fight a rearguard action by suggesting that it is the victim who should change their routine. A careful review of where the stalker might encounter their victim, however inadvertently, is always useful in planning risk-reduction strategies. Without the stalker facing up to their vulnerability to returning to stalking, however, the exercise will be futile. Part of management is helping the stalker accept not only that their behaviours have been stalking but that they are prone to repeat the behaviours unless they take active steps to reduce temptation as well as increase self-control. 3. Risk factor – continuing provocations. Underlying triggers to stalking are unresolved when, for example, the stalker continues living in proximity to the victim, or retains extensive memorabilia of the lost relationship. Management. To assist stalkers to develop feasible plans for minimising a recurrence of stalking activities it is often useful to analyse past episodes, looking for commonalities in the patterns of pre-stalking behaviour, and for specific triggers. When these activities, situations and specific triggers which have preceded stalking are identified, then there is a possibility of restructuring the stalker’s life to avoid such potential provocations. One dramatic example involved a rejected stalker who, despite apparently addressing his problems and accepting the need to avoid relapsing into the pursuit of the lost love, twice in less than a year re-presented before the courts following a recurrence of stalking. A careful review of his activities and preoccupations in the days leading up to recrudescences of stalking revealed that on each occasion he had spent several hours going through the wedding photos, overwhelmed by nostalgia. This remembrance of things past began the process which ended in his once more seeking out his ex-partner in the spirit of reconciliation and

resentment. Removing the wedding album, which was only accomplished with the assistance of his mother, has for the present been accompanied by an end to the stalking. Though finding such a simple and total solution is the exception, identifying and removing triggers is often an important step on the road to stopping stalking. Another recalcitrant stalker fell prey to nostalgia whenever he passed the apartment block where he and his victim had once lived together. The ex-partner had long since moved from this address, but the sight of the building invariably triggered a flood of memories which moved him from nostalgia, to distress, to anger, to resuming his pleading phone calls, to threats, and soon back to the police cells. The building was on one of the obvious routes from his present home to the centre of the city, so passing it did not require a deliberate decision. It was not passing the building that needed to be the positive decision. Once he accepted this his relapses decreased and finally ceased. 4. Risk factor – continuing social instability, unemployment and social isolation. Stalkers can end up devoting so much time to the pursuit of their victim, and so much time ruminating about them, that they no longer function effectively at work. Some lose their jobs, some decrease their hours, some move to less demanding positions. By the time stalkers present for treatment many are unemployed or on the verge of losing their jobs. Similarly, the preoccupations with the pursuit and the time devoted to stalking often disrupts or destroys what social networks the stalker may once have enjoyed. Stalkers usually come from the less socially able and gregarious sections of our community, and their fragile connections to others are all too easily severed. It is tempting to assume that if the focus is on stopping the stalking the employment and social activities will sort themselves out. In practice it is often easier to persuade stalkers to return to full-time employment, and to reengage with or even commence social activities, than to address the stalking directly. Returning to work and to whatever level of socialising they can manage not only reduces the opportunities for stalking, it more importantly improves the chances of

The assessment process

the stalker establishing new relationships and interests to compensate for the lost satisfactions of persisting pursuit. One of the checks that operates on all of us is that created by the attitudes and judgements of those whose opinion, or just company, we value. Confidants function not just as listening posts but as feedback systems on the acceptability and even sanity of our views and actions. Friends and colleagues set in an informal way the limits on acceptable behaviours (thus the problem of antisocial and substance-abusing peers). Social isolation is often part of the soil out of which stalking springs. Social reintegration, however modest, can be an important step on the way to stopping stalking. Management. A plan to increase the stalker’s level of interactions through a return to work and leisure activities can be a useful part of reducing risk. The expectations for employment and future friendships need to be adjusted to the previous level of functioning. After all, it is unlikely a lifelong isolate will become a gregarious party-goer, or an indolent unemployment recipient a captain of industry. Among the stalkers we encounter, the prior social and economic functioning was not infrequently so impaired that only modest aspirations could realistically be encouraged. 5. Risk factor – non-compliance. The likely level of future compliance with any restrictions imposed on access to the victim may be critical in planning a risk-reduction strategy. The value of protective orders, restraining orders and the like is discussed elsewhere (Chapters 15, 22, 23). What is certain is that stalkers who comply fully with such orders obviously stop stalking. What is equally certain is that those who totally ignore court orders will be persistent, difficult to influence, and difficult to force into treatment. Those who fail totally to comply with court orders prohibiting contact with the victim are unlikely to be controlled by anything short of imprisonment. Those who comply with the letter but not the spirit of orders can be equally problematic. One of our cases carefully measured out the distance from the victim’s house specified in the order as that which he should keep between himself

and the victim. He then rented an apartment just outside that limit but within line of sight of the victim’s home. Another would jog and cycle after his victim, carefully ensuring he did not encroach on the specified distance, but equally carefully ensuring she was aware of his presence. Others use surrogates to try and subvert prohibitions on communication, or unsigned emails from sites such as internet cafés which are difficult or impossible to link to them. Management. The management issue is whether to advise the use of various types of civil orders which constrain contact between stalker and victim. Sometimes clinically it becomes tempting to opt for the cynical view that such orders only work in those who would have stopped anyway. This is not true, but the various court orders are far from being a powerful tool in inhibiting the future behaviour of those stalkers who have previously created serious difficulties for their victims. 6. Risk factor – insight. The acceptance by the stalker that their behaviour reflects problems with their psychological and social functioning is an important step on the path to successful risk reduction. The total rejection of such explanations negates a range of potential interventions. Stalkers as a group tend to favour externalising as a strategy to understand and cope with their problems (MacKenzie, 2006). Accepting responsibility, let alone the need to change, does not come easily to many such offenders. Therapeutic interventions depend on reaching some accommodation with the stalker which satisfies their need to blame others but which is still compatible with complying and participating with the treatments, even if that compliance is forced initially by court-mandated treatment. Those who ignore court orders and still refuse to engage at any meaningful level in therapy are beyond our help. Management. Stalkers have to be persuaded firstly that their behaviour is stalking, and secondly that this behaviour reflects in no small part their own psychological problems and dysfunctional manner of dealing with other people. This is best accomplished through inducing them to provide detailed

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accounts of stalking and related activities and helping them understand how such behaviours are only possible because of their psychological and social vulnerabilities. The major clinical risk factors and future hazards for the stalker are briefly summarised in Table 20.6.

Domain 4: The victim’s psychological and social vulnerabilities Stalking involves a perpetrator and a victim. In most cases the victim knows the perpetrator. Stalking risk depends in part on how the victim responds to being

Table 20.6 The stalker’s clinical risk factors and future hazards specific to the stalking situation Risk factor

Management possibilities

Clinical risk factors Active treatment, usually involving pharmacotherapy Referral to a specialist substance-abuse service where possible, or to self-help groups such as AA Anger Anger management remains a problematic area. Ideally those with anger control problems should be receiving special help independently of the broader management of their stalking Attitudes towards, and beliefs about, the victim which Appropriate legal interventions; CBT and focused psychotherapies sustain stalking aimed at such areas as abandoning love, accepting loss, confronting misperceptions The conviction that they are right to engage in stalking Enhancing victim empathy; confronting false attributions using CBT The refusal to engage in any therapy, or to conform to Ultimately confronting stalker with consequences (e.g. through legally imposed restrictions on access to the victim breaching parole, referring back to court, etc); employing motivational interviewing strategies to assist the stalker to appreciate the need for intervention Social incompetence Social skills training, therapies aimed at enhancing self-efficacy Paraphilia Sex-offender programme incorporating CBT, with or without pharmacotherapy as indicated Future hazards Likely future contact with the victim Every effort should be made to enforce a total ban on direct contact or direct communication Lack of a feasible set of plans for avoiding a recrudescence Ensure structured plan around avoiding provocations and using of stalking protections in relation to stalking; CBT to assist the stalker to overcome the compulsion to stalk Underlying precipitants unresolved Focused psychotherapy aimed at the areas identified in the formulation; social skills training for the inept; assistance abandoning the relationship; treatment of paraphilias using CBT, with or without pharmacotherapy as indicated Continuing instability of residence and/or employment Assistance obtaining housing; career counselling and active employment rehabilitation as indicated and appropriate Continuing social isolation Use of clubs, day centres, recreational counselling, domestic pets Likely low level of compliance with legal restraints on Ensure knowledge of consequences of breaches and never contact with victim collude – implicitly or explicitly – with avoiding those consequences Likely low level of cooperation with any treatment Use of compulsory community treatment orders, either imposed programme by court or as part of mental health legislation Mental state, e.g. depression, delusional preoccupations Substance abuse

The assessment process

stalked, which in its turn reflects the victim’s own psychological and social strengths and vulnerabilities. As noted earlier, in our experience it is unwise for the clinician who is assessing a stalker to contact the victim, and it is equally unwise for the clinician who is working with the victim to contact the stalker. This makes it all the more essential that those managing stalkers obtain information about the victim via victim impact reports and depositions. Those managing victims should, where possible, obtain information indirectly from depositions and court records about the stalker. In considering how a victim is likely to respond to being stalked, and how this may improve or complicate their plight, a similar division into historical, current (i.e. clinical) and future hazards is of value. One difference must be emphasised: in the stalker we are attempting to identify factors that both increase the risk they present and are open to modification; in the case of a victim the level of risk they face is determined largely by the characteristics of the stalker and the prior relationship. The focus, as far as the victim is concerned, is on identifying strengths that will reduce the chances of being harmed and vulnerabilities that might increase harm. The management of stalking victims is discussed in detail in Chapter 22. Here we will examine aspects which affect their overall chances of surviving with the minimum possible damage, physical, psychological and social.

Historical factors A victim’s response to a stalker will be influenced by a range of historical factors, including their prior experience of the stalker. This goes beyond a simple description of the relationship in terms of ex-intimate, work colleague, stranger, etc, to encompass the history of that relationship. Those who are stalked by ex-intimates who were intimidating or even violent during their relationship will be particularly anxious about further assaults directed at them, their property or their current intimates. Conversely, an ex-intimate who had been dependent and childlike may, if they stalk after the end of the relationship, evoke both guilt and a sense of responsibility in the victim. This increases the victim’s distress and may inhibit them

from behaving in their own best interests. Therapists are often better attuned to the fear and anger than to the victim’s guilt and continuing concern, despite these being productive of considerable distress and of behaviours which increase the level of risk. The victim’s prior experiences of victimisation may also affect the level of risk. These include not just stalking but a range of victimisations which might have left them sensitised and more vulnerable.

Current clinical factors The victim’s current social and psychological functioning is both a measure of the damage they have sustained and an indicator of their vulnerability to further injury. Social withdrawal, hypervigilance, increased substance abuse and increasing hopelessness are among the responses to the more extended and intrusive forms of stalking. Each of these reactions increases the victim’s vulnerability to further psychological and social disruption. Whether or not the victim can be protected from further stalking, these social and psychological reactions need to be addressed with a view to reducing both their intensity and their impact. Social withdrawal, for example, is entirely understandable and easy to sympathise with in someone for whom the world has been made a source of fear and forced intrusion. It is, however, a damaging reaction which has to be countered and reduced for the victim’s sake (see Chapter 22). Two self-defeating responses encountered in stalking victims as part of their current state are firstly the unwillingness to make use of the available legal protections and secondly a refusal to engage in therapy or accept expert advice. It is not difficult to understand these attitudes. Stalking victims have all too often been frustrated by attempts to obtain from police and the courts protection, or even a minimal polite concern. Some have even experienced the legal system being used by their stalker to increase their distress (see Chapter 15). Similarly, misguided advice and patronising reassurances from ill-informed professionals have on occasion undermined any faith in the ability of therapists to assist. Victims may also adhere to an entirely reasonable view that it is the stalker who should be seeing a therapist and taking pills, not the victim.

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Reasonable, but in this case unhelpful. Victims caught in the attitudes of ‘can’t trust anyone’ or ‘nobody wants to help’ need understanding, but also encouragement and persuasion to accept what help is available. Therapists may often have to take an active advocacy role with such disheartened victims in ensuring appropriate police and legal assistance (see Chapter 22).

Future hazards The potential future hazards faced by a stalking victim should be anticipated and if possible avoided. As has been emphasised, anything that could potentially compel ongoing contact with the stalker, or make it more probable, should be addressed. It is worth going to considerable lengths to avoid future contact, or to make any contact as indirect as possible, for both the victim’s and the stalker’s sake. Guilt, anger, or an inability to leave well alone can all lead victims to initiate contact with stalkers. Anticipating and discussing in advance such potentially ill-fated approaches is always worth attempting. The more information the victim is provided with on stalking, in particular by means of contact with fellow victims through support groups, the better the chance of inhibiting such temptations to prod the quiescent stalker. Professionals have sometimes encountered cases where they believe continued contact between victim and stalker to ‘talk the issues through’ has been beneficial (Binder, 2006). These often involve patients stalking therapists, which are a very special case. Even here, however, our view is that the greater the distance and the less the contact the better. The temptation to fight back rather than avoid or hide from a stalker is admirable in some ways, but misguided. Attacking stalkers legitimises violence and may enhance the probability not just of immediate retaliation but of more serious attacks in the future. Confrontation is usually counterproductive. Stalking the stalker may sound like a lateral-thinking solution, but in practice in our experience it is likely only to aggravate the situation. Fighting back is best confined to frustrating the stalker’s intentions and making appropriate use of the available legal protections and sanctions. That being said, we did encounter one stalker for whom having the tables turned and becoming the

pursued did bring considerable benefits. This was not a case of victim turned stalker but of two women, both of whom were relentlessly pursuing a television personality. Our patient had become the object of resentful stalking from her competitor. This started following an incident where she was observed by her rival managing to make brief contact with their joint object of affection. Over the next few weeks she was subjected to repeated silent phone calls, midnight pizza deliveries and the vandalising of her car. Though she continued to believe her stalking activities were totally different in kind from those she now experienced, she did finally acknowledge that her behaviour could inadvertently be causing her beloved celebrity distress. Though far from an instant cure, it was the start of a process which eventually led to her giving up the stalking. The problem with stalking your stalker is that it is likely to be experienced either as legitimising the stalker’s behaviour or as encouraging hopes for the relationship. After all, the stalker often believes their behaviour to be a legitimate expression of affection or of grievance. The major clinical risk factors and future hazards relating to the victim, together with some management options, are summarised in Table 20.7.

Domain 5: The legal and mental health context The risks in stalking are critically dependent on the social and legal context in which the behaviour occurs (Mullen et al., 2006). The legal context is one of the most important factors – if not the most important – in determining the outcome in stalking situations. Laws vary considerably between countries, and practices may vary even within a jurisdiction. Thus the protections available to victims, and the legal practices and options for dealing with stalkers, vary accordingly. Similarly, the relevant mental health laws and services available to treat stalkers and assist victims are equally variable from place to place. Clinicians must familiarise themselves with the stalking laws and the mental health laws and services available in the jurisdictions in which they work. As there is often a gap between written laws and practice, they also need to understand, when they attempt to make use of the protections theoretically provided, how stalkers are dealt with in practice.

Integration and formulation

Table 20.7 The clinical risk factors and future hazards in the victim which aggravate risks presented by stalkers Risk factors and future hazards

Management possibilities

Advice and practical assistance in accessing police and other legal protections; advocacy where indicated Unwillingness to engage in therapy and take advice Encouragement to join stalking survivor groups and provision of information about stalking Anything that will compel ongoing contact with the stalker Strongly encourage total ban on direct contact or direct (e.g. joint custody of children, shared work environment) communication; provide direction for services to assist with managing any potential for contact Initiating contact with the stalker, out of guilt or just an inability Counselling and information on stalking; stalking survivor to leave well alone, or through misguided efforts to negotiate groups; reinforcing no direct contact, no direct an end to the harassment communication Continuing to reject the use of legal protections and therapeutic Counselling to restore confidence in services; providing active support, or abandoning the services that have previously advocacy with law enforcement agencies and increased failed them security Becoming caught up in attempting to fight back rather than Information and counselling on hazards of this approach; reduce risk counselling aimed at managing anger more constructively Unwillingness to make use of legal protections

Clearly, when considering the risk of future stalking, clinicians need a good understanding of the methods and strategies available for dealing with the stalker. Similarly, stalking victim support services are important in ensuring that stalking victims receive treatment and support to assist them to deal with the potential for ongoing stalking behaviour (Pathé, 2002). Strong anti-stalking legislation is, we believe, the bedrock on which rests risk reduction for victims, though those laws have to be understood and sympathetically applied by the police and judiciary. The optimal antistalking laws include provision for the mandatory mental health assessment of all those convicted of stalking, and for their compulsory treatment if indicated (Pathé et al., 2004; Purcell et al., 2004b; see Chapter 23). Police forces which have units that deal specifically with stalking and harassment usually provide the best protection. Such units have officers trained to understand and appreciate the nature of stalking (American Prosecutors Research Institute, 1997). These units often have become skilled in the use of low-key interventions which prevent further stalking, particularly in the rejected group. A visit to the offender at home from a couple of uniformed officers can do much to concentrate the stalker’s mind on

the unfortunate outcomes if the behaviour continues. Mental health professionals need to be trained, and equally importantly funded, to provide appropriate services to victims and perpetrators. There needs to be a coordination of services available in mental health and corrections, accompanied by community-based reintegration and management services for stalkers. No jurisdiction currently boasts both the active enforcement of good anti-stalking legislation and adequate mental health provisions for victims and stalkers. There are, however, developments in various centres around the Western world which give real hope that such integrated services will emerge.

Integration and formulation Consistent with the principles of structured professional judgement, the aim of the approach presented here is not just to fit individuals into some category or level of risk, let alone apportion them a numerical risk rating. Rather it is to consider on a case-by-case basis the risk factors and future hazards that exist in order to improve management and prevent risks being realised (Mullen et al., 2006). What should emerge from the

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clinical evaluation of a stalker or a stalking victim is first and foremost a needs analysis and the formulation of a management plan for identified risks. In some cases the assessment may point to the chances of serious harm to the victim being so imminent, or so difficult to effectively manage, that the initial intervention with the stalker should involve control and containment. This could in theory occur via the powers of the mental health legislation or criminal courts. The clinician who is familiar with the legal and mental health context in which he or she works will be aware of the existing possibilities for effective containment. If the stalker is attending under conditions imposed by a court then it is possible, though often difficult, to persuade the probation/community corrections services to intervene. Equally, few stalkers fit the criteria for a compulsory mental health admission. In practice, therefore, when working with a stalker in such a situation, you are often left with the options of either refusing them treatment or continuing to work with them, knowing that the risks of a serious escalation in their behaviour are considerable. Continuing to treat is usually our preferred option, but this can only be on condition the victim is alerted to any risk of imminent attack. Working with victims in high-risk situations is no less anxiety-provoking, but at least here you can assist the victim in trying to persuade the police to take action before there is a disaster. Fortunately, imminent serious risk to a victim is an uncommon situation. It is worth keeping in mind that risk assessments all too readily become essays in the generation of fear, with all identified factors increasing apprehension. Stalkers can evoke disproportionate fear, even in experienced forensic mental health professionals. We owe stalkers and their victims realistic but cautious evaluations, not unjustified panic. If management is to work in reducing risk it has to occur in a safe but calm context where risk is neither inflated nor discounted. The assessment process will usually generate a series of options with regard to interventions to reduce risk.

In our view the results of the assessment, the management options and the reasons for selecting those options should all be shared with the patient. This is irrespective of whether you are working with a stalker or a victim. The therapeutic impact of many interventions is increased if the patient knows both why this particular intervention has been chosen and what is expected in terms of beneficial change. After all, if you know how you should alter it, it makes it easier to live up to expectations.

Conclusions The effective assessment of risk in the stalking situation requires coming to grips with the actual risks inherent in the conduct, as well as the nature of the stalker, the victim, and the legal and mental health environment in which the drama unfolds. Only a detailed and flexible risk assessment process that takes the different forms of potential damage into account can provide a basis for management that reduces the potential harm to both victim and stalker. Although stalking research is at too early a stage in its development to provide the clinician with a firm evidence base for assessment and management, it should at least be possible to apply what is known systematically and sensitively, and thereby hopefully to improve the outcomes for stalkers and their victims.1

1

Since this chapter was written the experienced and well-regarded team of risk predictors Kropp, Hart & Lyon (2008) have published a manual for stalking assessment and management (SAM). This builds on a structured professional judgement approach. Like this chapter, it emphasises both perpetrator and victim vulnerability factors, though with somewhat different factors and emphasis. A manualised approach to the assessment and management of risk in the stalking situation has also been developed by our group (MacKenzie, R., McEwan, T.E., Pathé, M., Mullen, P.E. & Ogloff, J.R.P., The Clinician‘s Guide to Assessing and Managing Stalking Risks, in preparation). Both approaches require training in their usage. May the best approach for victims and stalkers win.

21 The therapeutic approach to the stalker

Introduction The priority, both for the criminal justice system and for most mental health professionals, is the assessment and management of the risks the stalker presents to their victim. This is of sufficient importance that it is dealt with in detail in Chapter 20. Here the more general issues of the clinical assessment and management of the stalker patient will be highlighted. Approaches to managing stalking behaviours have been discussed at various points in the book, most particularly in the chapters on stalker typology, erotomanias and stalking risk management. There is a dearth of published work on specific treatment interventions for stalkers. Rosenfeld and his group (2007) have published an evaluation of dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT) in 14 stalkers which will be discussed below. Other than this pioneering study the treatment literature is confined to suggestions and models rather than studies of the efficacy of any particular approach. Westrup (1998, 2000) suggested a functional analytic approach illustrated by case examples. Walker and Sonkin’s (1994) Stalker Stabilization Program proposed short-term cognitive behavioural therapy for men who harass current and former partners, but this also awaits evaluation in a stalker population. Warren and colleagues (2005) have proposed a management model based on a multidisciplinary team approach to stalking as a problem behaviour, but again no evidence was provided on the efficacy of their approach. Up to this point the focus has been almost exclusively on how best to end the stalking behaviours.

The extent of the disruption stalking brings to the life of the perpetrator, as well as the victim, has been acknowledged but rarely given attention. Sympathy for the stalker is not a proposition with immediate appeal, and yet these are often a lonely, inadequate, disturbed, if not frankly mentally ill, group of human beings. Their stalking reflects a range of influences, among which can be remediable mental disorders as well as modifiable characterological and social skills deficits. Furthermore, the distress and disruption experienced by the stalker can potentially be used as a lever to alter the behaviour and release the victim from continuing distress and disruption. A false dichotomy is often created in the management of mentally disordered offenders between the social imperatives of prevention and punishment and the health responsibilities of treatment and care. The issue of how to respond to a mentally abnormal offender is sometimes presented as a choice between responding either to the claims of the victim and the wider society, or to the needs of the offender. For many, even raising the issue of mental disorder in the context of criminal offending is at best an irrelevant obfuscation, and at worst a ploy to help the perpetrator escape their just deserts. Stalking is a particularly good example of a behaviour which is criminal (in most jurisdictions) but in which mental disorder can, and not infrequently does, play a role. To ignore the role of remedial mental disorders is to do a disservice not just to the stalker but to the victim. Equally, to ignore the behaviour itself in any management strategy is to be simplistically deterministic. Most stalking arises not directly from psychopathology but from an interaction

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between a vulnerable personality and social contingencies. In some cases the psychopathology is directly connected with the behaviour (e.g. delusional disorder of an erotomanic type), while in others the psychopathology is but one element in a complex interaction of social and psychological realities (e.g. the dependent personality unable to cope with the end of a relationship). Fining, confining and otherwise coercing a stalker driven by erotomanic delusions is, quite apart from the injustice, futile. As prevention it will not work. As punishment it will not work. As correction it certainly will not work. The victim’s best hope for long-term delivery from an erotomanic’s pursuit is effective treatment of the stalker’s delusional state. At the other extreme there are angry, narcissistic individuals bent on asserting control and exacting revenge on those with the temerity to reject their advances. Such individuals may respond to judicial sanctions. They may even deserve to be at the wrong end of such sanctions. Equally, if their behaviour is not to recur, therapy may well have a role, though therapy in such a case would focus not primarily on the personality disorder but on the behaviour. The choice between criminal sanctions and therapy is not one of either/or. The choice should be pragmatic. What balance of judicial sanction and therapy will best end the present stalking. and best reduce the chances of future stalking?

The problems of clinical management Those who work in forensic mental health services are no strangers to managing people in whom offending and psychopathology coexist and interrelate. One of the problems is to prevent further offending during the course of treatment. Neither victims nor the criminal justice system are particularly tolerant of allowing the stalking to continue whilst the treatment is given ‘time to work’. Sometimes a moratorium on stalking activities can be negotiated. In some stalkers, the willingness to accept this temporary cessation is encouraged by judicial sanctions or parole conditions. In other cases, however, the stalker recognises they have a problem which requires help, and they will accept curbing their

activities as the price of that help. In the deluded it may also be possible to negotiate a respite from stalking by entering into a dialogue with the patient’s sane part, which exists even in the maddest of minds. In others they will not, or cannot, curb their persistent intrusions and harassments. Here containment may be necessary in hospital, if their mental state justifies civil commitment, or in prison, if the courts so decide. (We have found treating stalkers in prison to be a practically difficult and unrewarding exercise.) In practice, when managing stalkers in the community there are not infrequently recrudescences of their stalking activities, particularly in the early stages of therapy. Whilst never colluding with, or condoning, such activities, minor relapses cannot be an indication, in and of themselves, for abandoning treatment. This is so if for no other reason than that they are almost universal. Fortunately many such episodes are surreptitious and go unnoticed. The only reason the clinician knows they have occurred is because the patient has told them. It is our custom to emphasise to stalkers that if they continue to offend the fact that they are being seen in the clinic will not provide them indemnity against the legal consequences of their actions. In practice the treatment of stalkers is on occasion interrupted or totally disrupted by their arrest and imprisonment on further charges. Stalkers evoke considerable fear. Even among our experienced staff, who have worked for years with seriously violent offenders and some of the country’s worst sex offenders, there is trepidation about being involved in managing stalkers. Of all the groups of offenders encountered in our services it is almost always about the stalkers that students and newly recruited staff express most apprehension. The stalker has become a culturally sanctioned bogeyman. Fantasies abound of these men and women sitting in the clinic, or on the ward, ever vigilant for another potential victim on whom they can fixate. Staff need education and reassurance about the realities of stalkers. Whatever the risks attendant on managing stalkers, the probability is very low of the stalker transferring their unwanted attentions onto the therapist. As noted in Chapter 17, therapists of all types are at risk of being stalked by their lonely, fantasising, affection- and attention-hungry

Assessment

patients and clients. By the time the stalkers reach our clinic, however, they have chosen their target and are rarely in the market for a replacement.

Assessment The information base The information base required to assess a stalker differs little from that needed for any full clinical evaluation or focused evaluation of risk (see Chapter 20). One needs details of past assessments, management strategies and their effects, or lack thereof. Ideally one needs some independent source of information in the form of a relative or friend, but this is frequently absent in the assessment of stalkers. One needs as much detail about the stalking behaviours as possible. The latter often comes in the form of witness statements and victim impact reports. Courts are sometimes reluctant to disgorge this type of information, but they should be pressed as it is often invaluable. When referrals come from the criminal justice system the stalker’s full criminal record should be provided. Though we would not make direct contact with the victim of a stalker we are treating it is important, especially where the harassment may be continuing, that the authorities involved with the victim are made aware of appropriate services to which the victim can be referred. This is essential to the safety and wellbeing of the victim, but will also assist the management of the stalker, by eliminating any counterproductive or reinforcing responses on the part of the victim.

The referral It is always important to establish both the referrer’s expectations and what the patient has been told about why they are being sent for assessment. All too often those who refer stalkers, both from criminal justice agencies and from clinical services, are less than clear about whether they are seeking a risk assessment, guidance and management, are wanting to get rid of the problem, or all of the above. Equally, the patient may have been given a wide range of explanations as to why

they are being sent to the clinic, or may know nothing other than that they have to attend. Stalkers are frequently referred to clinical services for assessment and management by the courts or parole boards under some form of compulsion. At the outset, the stalker patient feels coerced and often humiliated by being forced to see a mental health professional when they believe there is nothing ‘mentally wrong’ with them. Even when they are referred from other health professionals there is often an implication for them of being rejected and stigmatised. Moreover, the occasional stalker who has sought help apparently under their own volition may have felt coerced by family and friends, or may at best be ambivalent about attending. There is a temptation to respond to such doubts and reluctance by placing a reassuring gloss on the referral, avoiding the word stalking and speaking entirely of the desire to help and support. This, in our view, is misplaced good intentions. At the outset we prefer to make entirely clear to the patient why they have been referred and what our potential role would be if they agree to proceed. Far from avoiding the term stalking, we make clear that the referrer believed that they had engaged in stalking behaviours. The word stalking can evoke a strong reaction in someone sent for assessment or treatment. Even those seen after being specifically found guilty of the crime of stalking will vehemently protest they are no such thing. The image of the stalker in the public mind as both dangerous and disordered is not surprisingly an image even a dedicated pursuer would wish to disavow. This problem is compounded in some jurisdictions by placing stalkers in the sex-offender category. The denial of being a stalker offers an opportunity to talk both about the individual’s behaviour and about how we understand stalking. This is an opportunity not to be lost, as the first aim of therapy directed specifically at stalking is to help the stalker acknowledge both the behaviour and its potential impact on the victim. In referrals for an assessment it is our policy to make clear the limitations that exist on confidentiality should the stalker agree to proceed. Even in patients seen under order of the courts the patient’s consent is necessary

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to proceed, and there is an obligation to clarify as far as you are able the risks as well as the potential advantages of cooperation. Opinions differ on the issue of the later withdrawal of consent or the right of someone being assessed for legal bodies to place limits on what aspects of the information they disclose and allow to be used in the eventual reports. In our view, as long as the restrictions are clear we will accept any reasonable limits requested by the patient. If, as is not unusual, the patient requests that the more intimate details of their past relationships are not revealed we will accept that and if necessary clarify its absence in the report by noting the subject’s reservations as to disclosing such information. Very occasionally the limits that the subject wishes to place on what is covered in the interview and any subsequent report would render the whole process futile. In such cases we explain this and give the option to reconsider the extent of the limitations or abandon the process. Stalkers are often coerced, equally often denied the protections of medical confidentiality, and usually righteously indignant. These are bad foundations for a free-flowing and frank assessment process.

Confronting the patient Insight in stalkers is often conspicuous by its absence. Their capacity to deny, minimise and rationalise is matched in our experience only by sex offenders. An approach was made directly to our clinic by a woman facing extensive charges arising out of stalking a celebrity over a period of years. She requested an examination by a ‘stalking expert’ to provide her with a certificate stating she was not a stalker. The receptionist offered an appointment some two weeks hence. Initially this was accepted, but less than an hour later the woman phoned back for an earlier appointment. Then followed a series of phone calls, demands to speak to doctors and directors, some of which were put through to clinical staff. Over the next week there were multiple phone calls, letters and persistent intrusions, particularly directed at one receptionist, demanding the immediate issuing of this certificate declaring her free of the tendency, or even capacity, to stalk.

Facilitating the assessment The initial phase of the assessment is usually best given over to allowing the stalker to both express their resentment and provide their own account of events. As has been noted, often such accounts are characterised by self-justification and the minimising, or denial, of harassing behaviours. On occasion, however, a frank disclosure of the stalking may be provided. Such candidness can be motivated either by contrition or by selfrighteousness. It is unwise at this stage to be drawn into an argument about the nature and extent of the harassment, particularly given that in most such assessments there is adequate documentation of the stalking from victim and witness statements. Having the stalker confirm such details can be forgone. At a later stage in the assessment it can be of value to confront the stalker with the accounts of his or her activity, but this is unhelpful when still attempting to establish rapport. It is usually more productive to frame questions about the stalking in a manner that is non-judgemental, if not frankly collusive. Asking ‘What drove you to these actions?’ is likely to elicit a more ready response than enquiries as to why they intruded and harassed by phoning, following, etc. Equally, asking about their ‘attempts to communicate’ and their ‘efforts to meet’ the other person allows the stalker to describe their behaviours without being immediately forced to justify those actions. We find particularly that intimacy seekers respond well to reframing stalking in terms of a quest. As full an account as possible should be obtained of the stalker’s aims and objectives in stalking. Why they have committed themselves to this course of action and what they believe they will gain from the pursuit need to be spelled out. Exploring the what and the why of the harassment needs to be amplified by enquiries directed at the impact of the stalking on the stalker. How much time is occupied by the stalking behaviours? How long do they spend thinking about the target? What have been the costs to the stalker of their campaign? How long do they think they can continue to pay the price of this quest in terms of time, money, energy, legal censure and emotional turmoil? Having defined the costs it is then possible to explore the benefits. What has the

Formulation

stalker gained so far from their behaviour? Where, if anywhere, have the satisfactions been found? Framing questions in this way is not just a collusive ploy to obtain more information. It is the beginning of an attempt to lay the groundwork for changing those behaviours. Focusing attention on the costs of the behaviour for the stalker is in part beginning the process of persuading them to change, or to be more professional, cognitively restructuring their attributions and commitments. An important step on the path to change can be to have them admit how unproductive has been the stalking in terms of advancing their aims, and how costly for them has been this failed enterprise. The frankly deluded, or totally self-deceived, may well remain impervious to such approaches, protected as they are by an absolute conviction in their eventual vindication, or the ultimate success of their quest.

Mental disorders The assessment of any stalker must involve a thorough mental health evaluation. This is familiar territory for the mental health professional and differs not at all from good standard practice in clinical and forensic evaluations. Their history and mental state need to be elucidated. In these cases a particularly thorough evaluation of their personality characteristics and habitual way of responding to life’s challenges is often helpful. Structured and standardised personality assessments can be of considerable potential use as an addendum to the clinical evaluation. Equally, detailing their social networks, if any, and their interpersonal competencies and difficulties, is even more important than in standard evaluations. A full relationship history should be obtained from all stalkers, regardless of type. Substance abuse can often contribute both to the nexus from which stalking emerges and towards the emergence of more intrusive and violent behaviours. A thorough history of the stalker’s substance use is therefore essential, referring also to the stalker’s criminal record for any evidence of alcohol-related offences. In those whom one suspects of more than the usual modesty in revealing these habits it is useful to include a physical examination, looking for stigmata of alcohol abuse or intravenous drug usage. In addition, where

available, one should perform urine and blood screens for drugs, and full blood counts and liver function tests, which are potentially revealing of alcohol-related damage.

Psychological functioning It is our practice to undertake a joint psychiatric/ psychological evaluation on all new cases. The psychologist performs a clinical interview, occasionally jointly with the psychiatrist, occasionally separately before progressing to a formal assessment. The choice of tests used varies according to the nature of the case and the available testing from prior assessments (Warren et al., 2005). The core battery includes: 1. Wechsler Abbreviated Scale of Intelligence (Psychological Corporation, 1999) 2. State-Trait Anger Scale, 2nd edition (Spielberger, 1999) 3. Attachment Style (Bartholomew and Horowitz, 1991) 4. Locus of Behavioural Control (Craig et al., 1984) 5. Paulhus Deception Scale (Paulhus, 1998) 6. HCR-20 (Webster et al., 1997) A standardised personality assessment is also employed, though we have varied the instrument used over the years. Testing for neuropsychological deficits is only carried out when clinically indicated. The results of the psychological and psychiatric examinations are brought together in an initial formulation of the case. Our practice is to feed back to the patient the results of the evaluation, usually on the second attendance, though some limited feedback is provided at the time, to hopefully persuade the subject of the relevance of the interviews and testing.

Formulation The assessment when completed should allow at least a preliminary formulation, aimed to answer the following questions about the stalker: 1. What, if any, is the nature of the stalker’s current mental disorder? 2. Is there a history of mental disorder, and how has this been managed in the past?

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3. What are the salient personality vulnerabilities? 4. What, if any, is the nature and extent of the stalker’s substance use and misuse? 5. What is the prior relationship between the stalker and the victim? 6. What are the motivations for the stalking behaviours? 7. What is the context from which this individual’s stalking arose, and what factors tend to sustain the behaviour? 8. What is the likely future course of the harassment? 9. Into which stalking type does the stalker best fit, based on the above information? 10. What is the probability of assault? This is expressed cautiously in terms of probable risk: there is a real danger, particularly when reporting to courts, of covertly encouraging, or justifying, sentencing not for what the individual has been convicted of but for offences they might in the future commit (see Chapter 20). 11. What are the stalker’s current social circumstances and social support networks? 12. What role could therapy have in ameliorating and preventing the stalking? 13. What therapy does the individual require for any mental disorder? This is irrespective of the likely impact of such treatment on the stalking behaviours – though fortunately it is difficult to imagine effective treatments which aggravate rather than potentially ameliorate stalking.

Management There are general principles guiding the management of all stalkers. In addition we organise our therapeutic efforts around the typology advanced in this book. The understanding and management of a particular stalker is structured according to whether they best fit into the rejected, the intimacy seeking, the incompetent, the resentful or the predatory type. The general management principles are (1) to manage any continuing mental disorder, and (2) to target specific management strategies at the stalking behaviours themselves.

Management of mental disorders Those stalkers with mental disorders are managed no differently, as far as the disorders themselves are concerned, from any other patient with that condition. Delusional disorders are found relatively frequently among stalkers, particularly intimacy seekers. The management of these disorders is discussed in Chapter 8. Suffice it to say that the management of these conditions is often outside the experience of those working in the general mental health services but will soon become familiar to those with a special interest in stalkers. Similarly, social deficits and personality problems are common in this group and require focused and often long-term remedial therapy. Depressive disorders should not be ignored or dismissed as self-pity. In the occasional case dramatic results are obtained by the simple expedient of providing adequate antidepressant therapy. We favour the use of the SSRIs, with clomipramine as a second-line treatment. Those choices are based on the claimed efficacy of these medications in depression complicated by obsessional phenomena and impulse control problems. Even in those stalkers where depression is thought to be reactive to the problems created subsequent to commencing stalking, it is still important to adequately treat the altered mood if other treatment approaches are to have a chance. Those whose stalking is driven by sexual-impulse disorders may also benefit from serotonergic medication such as SSRIs, and these may be preferable to anti-androgens for predatory stalkers with severe or chronic depression. Anxiety disorders, especially social phobia, can be instrumental in the evolution of stalking behaviours. When these are addressed through the appropriate combination of medication (we generally use SSRIs, mirtazapine or the RIMA moclobemide) and cognitive behavioural therapies the results can be quite gratifying. We prefer to avoid the use of benzodiazepines in this population, given the potentially disinhibiting properties of these agents. It is essential to address any substance misuse. This is best achieved by referral to specialist substance-abuse services and Alcoholics Anonymous where indicated.

Management

In most instances, interventions that specifically target stalking behaviours can be provided concurrently.

Management strategies targeted at the stalking behaviours Stalking is a time-intensive, resource consuming, emotionally draining and usually ultimately futile activity. Stalkers, even those caught up in a delusional system, generally have some realisation, however partial, of the costs and self-defeating nature of their behaviours. Changing those behaviours is in part about helping them focus on the negative impacts on them of continued stalking. Stalking is damaging and repugnant to victims, yet most stalkers deceive themselves that such behaviours will further their aims of either attracting or reconciling with the object of their unwanted attentions. Even those stalkers pursuing agendas of revenge or vindication rarely admit to themselves the extent to which they are damaging their victims. Providing information about the impact of stalking in general and of their stalking in particular is part of therapy (in our view, even with the deluded). Strategies for encouraging victim empathy borrowed from sex-offender treatment programmes can usefully be applied with many stalkers (Marshall et al., 2006). While we do not have the benefit of group therapy for stalkers, and the opportunities for emotional expression and recognition such groups may facilitate, efforts are made in individual work with stalkers to improve the accuracy of their processing of social information, especially their awareness of other people’s desires and perspectives. This is most usefully achieved through role-playing various day-to-day social situations encountered by the stalker, challenging their beliefs about the impact of stalking on victims generally, and on their victim(s) specifically. As with sex offenders, videos of stalking victims recounting their distressing experiences can be a useful adjunct, as are media reports of other cases and movie portrayals. Stalking is sustained, in no small part, because the behaviour is gratifying in and of itself. Despite this, few stalkers admit to themselves that they find the stalking rewarding. They explain their actions to themselves as being necessary to attain their goal (be that goal a

relationship or retribution or whatever). It can be useful to expose the intimacy seeker’s use of stalking behaviours as a substitute for an intimate relationship, rather than a path to any such goal. Similarly, the rejected can sometimes be helped to understand that they have substituted the stalking for the lost relationship. As a result they can neither re-establish a connection to, or free themselves from, their ex-partner. The incompetent suitor can occasionally be made to realise that their behaviour is a crude caricature of establishing a relationship which is doomed to failure and with which they are fooling themselves. The resentful stalker has poured all their pain and spleen into the pursuit of someone who in practice is largely irrelevant to the real issues. They can sometimes be encouraged to an understanding that their ‘pursuit of justice’ is being lost sight of in the short-term gratifications of punishing a minor and possibly innocent party (Mullen & Lester, 2006). The stalker, by the time he or she reaches a mental health professional, has invested in the pursuit considerable resources, both personal and often financial. To abandon their pursuit would be to lose face. It is important to attempt to move them to a position where they can abandon the stalking without feeling humiliated or robbed. One female stalker who refrained from contacting her victim (a former boss) during the bail period was so incensed when the magistrate commented that she had been ‘a very good girl’ that she immediately resumed her pursuit. Unfortunately stalkers have often been exposed to attempts to make them stop stalking which involve what they perceive as threats, punishments and insults. They may have responded to such coercive tactics by becoming self-defensive and assertive about their rights. By reframing their actions as ‘understandable’ but ultimately counterproductive and damaging, they can sometimes be manoeuvred into abandoning the stalking as an act of generosity or of enlightened self-interest. Stalkers are almost universally socially impoverished and isolated individuals. The stalking would have been unlikely to emerge, let alone be sustained, if they had had adequate peer relationships, particularly intimate relationships. Loneliness, isolation and a lack of feedback about their behaviour from those whose opinion

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they value feature among the prerequisites of stalking. Improving social networks, equipping them with the skills to acquire and maintain friendships, helping them to establish and utilise confiding relationships: these are often critical elements in ending, and, more importantly, preventing a relapse into, stalking. This management strategy can perhaps be illustrated by the approach to an intimacy seeker, in which therapy broadly follows this path: 1. The focus of the stalker’s concerns is gradually shifted from the target’s actual or potential love for the stalker to the stalker’s love for the target. The stalker’s motivations are reframed in terms of the stalker’s hopes, investment and desires. Their view of the target is reframed from the attributes of their victim to the positive qualities with which they have endowed the love object. This moves the centre from the unknowable feelings, qualities and intentions of the target to the feelings and judgements of the stalker. 2. Establish the importance of this love. In particular elucidate the stalker’s prior loneliness and lack of other relationships. Assist the stalker to see how much they have invested in the hoped-for relationship. This moves the stalker towards understanding their love as a product of their situation, sustained by their own feelings and judgements, not by the imagined feelings of the target. 3. Focus on concrete examples of the loved one’s supposed expressions of love, and gently indicate they could be interpreted very differently. This begins the process of confronting the stalker with the reality of the situation which they have (with naturally the best of intentions) brought about. They are now trapped in a distressing situation largely of their own making. 4. Help the stalker identify the costs of stalking to them. Their time, their energy, their emotions, the humiliations, etc. 5. Using the stalker’s distress and losses as a starting point, begin the process of confronting them with the distress and disturbance they have inflicted on the target. 6. Move to a position where the stalker can abandon their quest with dignity. They need to extricate themselves from an ‘embarrassing’ relationship.

The target has shown themselves unworthy. They tried, they did their best. They didn’t mean to but they frightened their loved one and caused them distress. Time to move on. 7. Begin the process of building real relationships and investing affections in more realistic objects (even if only a dog). Connecting, or reconnecting, stalkers to a social world is one of the most important elements, not only in terminating stalking but in preventing relapse. The intimacy seekers often never established adequate social networks. The rejected, if they ever had such connections, often lost them with the breakdown of the relationship and as a result of their subsequent stalking. The stalkers we see have usually sacrificed jobs and what friends and acquaintances they ever had to the process of stalking. Encouraging their involvement with other people is all the more necessary if their impoverished social world is not to form a basis from which stalking re-emerges. Those stalkers with whom we can claim a sustained success have often been those who acquired new social activities and new relationships (however superficial). But this is not just a ‘relationship cure’, as it is essential to avoiding further victimisation in future relationships. One stalker was encouraged to join a sports club rather than pursue her usual lonely long-distance running. This rapidly provided a social network and social life she had never previously possessed. The stalking was abandoned and never recurred. Another was persuaded to stop unsuccessfully seeking work in his profession (in which he was known and feared) and accept an unskilled labouring job. Having exchanged the prospect of a highly paid position for the reality of a low-paid job he transferred the immense energy previously focused on stalking his ex-wife into work. Within two years he had formed a partnership in a demolition business with a man he met at work, earning far more than ever before and with a totally new, and closer, group of friends. He not only stopped harassing his ex-wife but even managed to apologise and establish very occasional appropriate contact. Finally, it is important to devise realistic, individually tailored relapse prevention strategies based on an analysis of past stalking behaviours. As noted in Chapter 20,

The typology as a guide to management

an understanding of the antecedents and specific triggers to stalking episodes will enable a restructuring of the stalker’s lifestyle to avoid or remove potential provocations and temptations (e.g. shopping at the victim’s supermarket). In a similar vein to relapse prevention with sex offenders, stalkers should be trained to deal appropriately with inadvertent or victim-initiated contact. Chapter 20 described the unrealistic optimism shown by some stalkers, especially in the rejected and incompetent categories, with respect to their capacity to resist further stalking. These assurances are particularly vociferous in the immediate aftermath of aversive criminal sanctions. Such complacence can frustrate relapse prevention efforts unless stalkers can be helped to accept that they are prone to repeat the behaviours if they fail to take active steps to avoid triggers and enhance self-control.

Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT) The only systematic evaluation of a treatment modality in a group of stalkers is Rosenfeld and colleagues’ (2007) use of a DBT-based programme. DBT was initially developed for treatment of so-called borderline personality disorder (Linehan et al. 1991; Linehan, 1993). The relevant aspect of the approach from a stalking perspective is its strong emphasis on behaviour, which has led to its application in a range of forensic settings (Berzins & Trestman, 2004). Rosenfeld and colleagues (2007) employed a 24-week programme involving a one-hour skills group followed by a 45-minute individual session. They concluded that ‘despite the small nonrandomised sample, participants who completed treatment were significantly less likely to reoffend’ (p. 100). To have carried out such a study is a considerable feat, and the results encourage further exploration not only of DBT but of other standardised and manualised approaches in this difficult but needy population.

The typology as a guide to management Our typology (see Chapter 5) was developed in the hope of directing both the assessment and management

of stalkers. Research has confirmed its usefulness in assessment of risk. The typology remains, however, an as yet invalidated guide to treatment, for which only the potentially unreliable claims of clinical experiences can be advanced. Once the general approach to management detailed above has been applied we apply the lessons derived from experience with the different stalking types.

The rejected Rejected stalkers are driven by varying mixtures of the desire for reconciliation and the desire for retribution. In those for whom the hopes of restoring the relationship predominate, at least for the majority of the time, the clinical focus is twofold: 1. To help the stalker understand that their behaviour further alienates their ex-partner and destroys any remnants of positive feelings, souring even the memories of past happiness. The discrepancy between their claimed affection and the actual effects on the victim needs to be brought home to the stalker by examining both their actual behaviour and the victim’s account (if available). A subgroup of the reconciliation seekers believe they have a right guaranteed by their religious imperatives to the sanctified relationship, irrespective of their ex-partner’s views. Such men, and in our experience they are nearly always men, may well gain support from friends, family and even clergy for their belief in entitlement to the partner. Against this a mental health professional, almost by definition ungodly, is unlikely to prevail. Such cases usually end in court, or even more troublingly in the ex-partner giving in to the intimidation of the stalker and the pressure from co-religionists. 2. To assist the stalker in abandoning the attachment to the lost partner and beginning to seek new relationships, or at least new activities and interests. Falling out of love or accepting loss is about helping the stalker accept the realities of their situation and abandoning the self-deceptions which sustain hope. This process is not infrequently disrupted by communications or contacts initiated by the victim, which confuse the situation and raise unrealistic

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expectations in the stalker. This group is prone to rekindle their sense of loss and hopes for a return of the lost partner by visiting places or contemplating mementoes that evoke memories of happier times. This is a habit to be strongly discouraged. The rejected stalker whose motivation is predominantly to strike back at the partner who has spurned them presents a difficult clinical problem. This is the subgroup who in our experience are the most likely to attack their partners and damage their property. Self-righteous anger is frequently present and always concerning. Any attempt to question their actions is likely to be seen as joining the ex-partner’s side. Usually the best approach with this group is to appeal to their self-interest. ‘Is it really worth going to prison to make your point?’ ‘Given all you have said about them, are they really worth all the effort you’re putting into this campaign?’ and so on. The answer they initially give to such questions is usually an emphatic yes, but at least it can open a dialogue about calculating their best interests and reconciling the contradictions between their behaviour and stated beliefs. Constant reminders about the risks they run of criminal prosecution and even imprisonment are the default approach. Whether the pursuit is mainly for revenge or mainly an attempt to restore the relationship, the stalking becomes an end in itself. It creates a substitute relationship, a displacement activity, and a refuge from facing up to the realities of the now un-partnered state. All the more so when the breakdown of the relationship involved a loss of the previous level of contact with their children and/or financial decline. Helping the stalker recognise the role of stalking in protecting them from confronting reality is important, though far from easy. Like many self-destructive behaviours stalking comes with real, if often unrecognised, gains.

The intimacy seeker This type may have obvious psychopathology in the form of erotomanic delusions. Even here, however, pharmacotherapy needs to be accompanied by a structured programme of therapy to challenge the beliefs and misinterpretations which sustain the beliefs. The social context of loneliness and withdrawal needs to be

countered by active encouragement to involve themselves in leisure and work activities which promote interpersonal contact. The satisfactions deriving from an amorous fixation are considerable, particularly for the shy, oversensitive and self-absorbed people who are so often found among stalkers of this type. Sometimes all that can be achieved is to move the intimacy seeker from active pursuit to passive expectation. Relapse even after apparent success is all too common. The best prognosis seems to be among those with a schizophrenic syndrome among whom the delusional attachment is just one of a range of abnormal experiences. The late-onset delusional states unaccompanied by other dramatic disorders of mental state but embedded in long-standing personality and social vulnerabilities are the most intractable, but even here some degree of success can usually be attained in reducing the more intrusive elements of the stalking. These are long-term patients who need a team approach.

The incompetent suitor This type of stalker usually only engages in relatively brief periods of intrusive behaviour. By the time they present for assessment usually many months have passed since the episode that led to the criminal charges. For many the experience of arrest and appearing before the court has provided a sufficient reality check to inhibit a repeat performance. All that is required clinically is to reinforce the negative consequences of reoffending and to equip them with a set of memories to review whenever they are tempted to indulge in further harassment. The exceptions are either those who despite prior convictions have reoffended or those who have disorders that markedly limit their capacity to learn from experience. This type of stalker may be impaired by low intellectual functioning or by specific disorders, particularly in the autism spectrum. Such individuals will require more extended support and re-education if they are to avoid relapsing into stalking. The recidivist group also contains individuals who are lonely and insensitive without either intellectual deficits or autistic disorders. Here what is required is social skills training combined

Conclusions

with a programme aimed at increasing both empathy and awareness of the costs to themselves of continuing to offend.

The resentful In this type the first hurdle is usually to persuade them that they are likely to be seen by most people as the aggressor and not the victim. Some resentful stalking emerges in the context of a paranoid illness, but most develops on the basis of long-standing suspiciousness and resentment. The chance of effecting major changes in their attitudes to the world is slight. The best hope is to appeal to their self-interest. Attempts at evoking empathy for their victims are usually not only futile but counterproductive. After all, it is their target’s discomfort which brings them gratification. Of all the types this, in our experience, is the most likely to turn on the health professional and begin a campaign of complaint directed at the therapist. The best protection is to play the role of adviser keen to help them avoid escalating problems and legal sanctions as a result of their stalking, however justified they may think their actions.

The predatory This type only ends up in a clinic for stalkers if their progress toward attack has been interrupted by apprehension or a moment of personal insight. The management is determined in large part by the history of sexual or other violent behaviour. It is rare for the predatory type, once exposed, to continue pursuing a victim. The loss of anonymity deprives them both of the pleasures of surreptitious pursuit and of the protection against being identified if and when they attack. Those who raise the greatest concern usually have a history of sexual offending, documented or supplied by the patient, involving voyeurism, scatological

communications and occasionally frank sexual aggression. These need to be managed as sex offenders.

Conclusions This chapter, and to some extent this book, has emphasised the contribution of psychopathology to stalking and the contribution of therapy to stopping those behaviours. But stalking is as much, or more, a social pathology. The focus on the mental health aspects in part reflects our professional orientation, but in part it also reflects pragmatism. It is not easy to treat delusional disorders or modify narcissistic character traits, but it is far easier, and quicker, than altering societies. Therapy is aimed, in no small part, at overcoming the social disabilities of the stalker. Certainly, adequate social function and acquiring ‘good enough’ social networks are central to managing stalking. The psychopathology and the social pathology interact and sometimes overlap; they do not occupy different worlds. There is perhaps a degree of naive enthusiasm for the results of therapy apparent in this book. Delusional disorders are difficult to treat, but when one starts from the assumption they are untreatable then they become untreatable. Personality disorders are difficult to modify, but again defining them as unchangeable makes them unchangeable. In managing stalkers one will have spectacular failures, but there will be successes. We believe there are more successes when the task is approached with optimism and even enthusiasm. Time and systematic studies will eventually clarify what works and what only flatters the therapeutic egos of professionals. Until then, it is important for the sake of stalkers and their victims to treat what can be treated, and modify that which is open to modification, in the attempt to bring this miserable and destructive behaviour to an end.

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22 Reducing the impact of stalking on victims

Introduction The clinical and epidemiological studies reviewed in Chapter 4 demonstrate the destructive impact of stalking on its victims. Being stalked can induce depression, anxiety and chronic stress. Given the frequency with which stalking victims report such symptoms, the focus in this chapter is on the clinical management of these forms of psychological disturbance. The efficacy of supportive, cognitive behavioural and pharmacological therapies in the treatment of traumatic stress has been reported, particularly for those individuals exposed to combat, sexual assault or natural disasters (for comprehensive reviews, see Shalev et al., 1996; Foa & Meadows, 1997; Foa & Cahill, 2002). However, the utility of these treatments in the management of stalking victims has yet to receive empirical support. Unlike other forms of traumatic stress, which involve life-threatening but relatively circumscribed events, stalking can present a more complex dynamic for the clinician as victims experience repeated and often prolonged trauma. The situation is akin to that of victims of domestic violence and, like them, stalking victims may present to health professionals during the course of their victimisation. The management strategies reviewed in the latter part of this chapter are proffered as a guide, based on the authors’ experience of treating stalking victims, as well as more established and empirically validated treatment techniques for the mental disorders most commonly encountered in this group, particularly anxiety disorders. We should emphasise at this point that it is not our intention to ‘pathologise’ the suffering of these

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individuals. Like many victims exposed to traumatic events and disasters, those who are stalked do not invariably manifest psychological disturbance or other ill effects as a consequence. Nonetheless, we continue to see stalking victims who are so disturbed by their experiences that they require, and indeed request, clinical intervention. Alleviating psychological distress and rebuilding confidence and trust are primary goals in the clinical management of stalking victims. However, for most victims (especially those who continue to endure harassment) it is also crucial to address personal safety needs. An immediate priority in situations where the stalking is ongoing is to assess the risk to the victim and third parties (see Chapter 20) and ensure strategies are in place to protect the victim and their loved ones, as well as to discourage the stalker’s intrusions. Victims of stalking desperately seek an end to the unwanted pursuit and this is often, not surprisingly, the most effective means of overcoming their psychological suffering. In those instances where it is not possible to effect an abrupt change in the victim’s situation, supportive therapy and practical advice may prove beneficial to the victim’s adjustment and assist in minimising the risk of progression to physical assault. Ending the stalking does not in and of itself always produce a full or immediate recovery from the stress-related symptoms. Victims often require continued intervention in order to regain self-confidence and trust and reconstitute their lives. As we have previously emphasised, stalking is a behaviour and a crime of which we are all potential targets. Although there are no strategies or precautions

Preventive approaches

we can adopt that will guarantee immunity from the attentions of a stalker, this chapter commences with a discussion of commonsense preventive measures which may help minimise the probability of being stalked. For those who find themselves the target of a stalker, we present a range of safety strategies and responses to circumvent the stalking and halt its progression to long-term harassment.

Preventive approaches Stalking victims frequently ask how they might have avoided their ordeal. Could the harassment have been aborted by responding differently in its earliest stages? Should they have ‘seen it coming’? Occasionally, individuals who have never experienced such unwanted attentions are curious to know if there are any ‘warning signs’ of a would-be stalker, and counteractive strategies to ward them off.

Recognising the would-be stalker Obviously the stalker’s history is significant, but this may not be known to the potential victim. The stalker may have convinced them that a former lover lied or indeed stalked them, or the seriousness of any past convictions may be minimised. Some victims who have subsequently contacted their stalker’s ex-partners have learnt that they, too, had been subject to similar harassment, which in some instances ceased only because the stalker formed a new relationship. Some had even continued to stalk their previous partner while courting their next target, without the knowledge of either victim. There may exist early warning signs in the relationship which any prospective partner would be well advised to heed. Possessiveness, hypersensitivity, excessive dependence, jealousy and moods that oscillate between extremes of undying devotion and angry rejection may all be observed in the potential stalker, and may be instrumental in the healthy partner’s decision to terminate the relationship. Stalking behaviours can in some instances commence while the couple are still together, particularly in instances of morbid jealousy,

where the incensed partner checks upon their lover’s movements by following, monitoring and phoning their workplace and other proposed destinations. While extricating oneself from such pathological situations is the only logical choice for victims, this may well be the point at which the stalking commences or escalates. Some victims, in a similar manner to battered spouses, may then return to their tormentor in a desperate effort to appease them and to temporarily alleviate threats to their own and others’ safety (see Chapter 4). This apparent ambivalence serves only to convince the stalker that persistence pays, and it amplifies the difficulties and risks of any future attempts to end the relationship.

Declining and terminating relationships Breaking up is hard to do, so much so that some people are now utilising the services of ‘breakup’ agencies. For a fee, German Bernd Dressler (nicknamed the Terminator) will end a relationship by phone or in person, or for US$24.95 one can use the services of DumpMonkey.com to send the rejected party a stuffed monkey, a certificate stating the time and date of the termination and a phone call to confirm the dumping. Alternatively, some Americans have chosen to end their relationship in the public forum of television shows like Breaking Up (Time Magazine, 2006). Few of us receive any tuition during the course of our lives in managing difficult social situations such as unexpected persistence from would-be suitors or exlovers, former friends or work associates. Gross (1994) emphasises the wisdom of conveying clear messages to unwanted suitors or those who refuse to ‘let go’ of relationships. As discussed later in this chapter, someone who does not wish to pursue a relationship with a person (be it romantic, a friendship or a business alliance) should state this plainly and unequivocally. That a large proportion of stalkers are socially incompetent individuals who fail to grasp obvious, let alone subtle, social cues necessitates that the message is straightforward and unambiguous. The declaration ‘I do not want a relationship with you’ succinctly conveys one’s wishes and requires no further explanation. In most circumstances this statement should be delivered

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personally and directly to the pursuer, preferably in a public place or other venue where one feels safe. The statement must not be conveyed by telephone or in a letter, as this just gives the pursuer the opportunity to protest that they did not receive or understand the message. Someone who wishes to break off a relationship should make their wishes known in a firm and reasonable manner that allows the pursuer to maintain his or her dignity and avoids giving them further reasons, particularly resentment or anger, to harass. Upon receiving this message, a reasonable person, however disappointed, will ultimately respect the decision and withdraw. If they persist in making unwanted contact, the wishes of the other person are being deliberately disregarded, rather than misinterpreted (except in a minority of cases who may be deluded and prone to reinterpret the words and actions of the object of attention: see Chapter 8). Persistence on this scale at least confirms that the decision to terminate or decline the relationship was reasonable and justified. Having delivered this message, one must not engage in any further discussions with this person or indulge them in counter-argument, debate or negotiation. There is no obligation to provide explanations for one’s decisions to anybody, particularly one who has persisted in unwelcome behaviour. Indeed, providing explanations often gives the pursuer the opportunity to challenge the decision. The statements ‘I’m sorry, but I’m just not interested in a relationship at the moment’ or ‘I’m too busy for this right now’ may imply that one could be interested in a relationship some time in the future. Worse, ‘I already have a boyfriend’ may be interpreted as ‘I’d go out with you but for my boyfriend’, with occasional tragic results as desperate stalkers have attempted to eliminate what they believed to be the only obstacle to the desired relationship. Finally, one should not attempt to ‘let them down easily’ by gently delivering the message in instalments. This only serves to prolong the relationship from which you are trying to extricate yourself. These situations are often uncomfortable, many of us preferring to be conciliatory and sensitive to the other person’s feelings, even when they have shown a callous disregard for ours. However, this approach does not necessitate that you be rude or offensive; rather, the imperative is

to be firm, both in one’s approach and in one’s convictions. Attempts to let the other down gently may convey indecision or ambivalence about the desired outcome, and instil hope in the pursuer that persistence will eventually be rewarded.

Protecting personal information It is wise to be selective about disclosing personal details. One’s home address and telephone number should be supplied only to trusted service providers, ensuring that the records will be kept confidential. Where possible, it is best to provide a business address in those situations where one is asked to disclose contact details. Property and other assets should be placed in trust so that an address cannot be obtained through a title records check. One should consider establishing a post office box address for correspondence; this will also circumvent the theft of confidential mail from a private letterbox. Those who do not have a post office box should at least install a secure or lockable mailbox so that the stalker cannot intercept correspondence, and ensure that all mail is promptly removed following delivery. Victims occasionally receive disconnection or cancellation notices from service providers (e.g. telephone or electricity companies) because accounts stolen from their letterbox remain unpaid. Indeed, a whole range of personal data may be gleaned from one’s correspondence. A psychiatric patient who obtained her psychologist’s home address from a personnel folder lying in the reception area of her community mental health clinic visited the psychologist’s home and retrieved mail from her letterbox. She obtained information on the psychologist’s other place of employment, her date of birth, her bank account number, her health insurer, and a letter from her mother with details of other family members and the mother’s address. All personal mail that is old or irrelevant must be destroyed, rather than simply discarded. It is best to burn or shred everything, no matter how trivial. Some stalkers will rifle through the victim’s rubbish in search of valuable personal information, such as credit card details from banking statements, or unlisted telephone numbers from phone bills. It is also essential to ensure

Preventive approaches

that one’s employer has procedures for disposing of sensitive documents such as tax data. Personal information should never be divulged to strangers in cyberspace. One should be sceptical of the information provided by unfamiliar persons on the internet, such as their age, gender and photographs. It is important to be particularly suspicious of anyone who swears true love after just a few days, and never to meet with such a person if one has any concerns. Meetings should at least occur in a public place during daylight hours, preferably in the company of a friend and always with the knowledge of a reliable third party. There are a number of measures one can take to protect one’s personal information in cyberspace. Reputable anti-virus and firewall protection must be installed on all computers, to reduce the risk of computer viruses, and kept regularly updated so that protection remains current. Passwords should be changed regularly, and the same password should not be used for all internet services (e.g. banking and book purchases). Passwords that can be easily deduced from a person’s known circumstances, such as one’s own name or that of close relatives, birth date or make of car, should be avoided. Note that while many financial institutions request mother’s maiden name as a means of identification this information can be gleaned from a birth certificate, a copy of which can be obtained by anyone who makes a fraudulent application (Hamadi, 2004). It is important to choose gender-neutral email addresses that avoid flirtatious nicknames. One’s online profile, email signature and email header should not contain personal, gender-identifying or other inappropriate information. These details can be checked by sending oneself an email. An anonymous remailer allows email or newsgroup postings to be sent anonymously through an intermediary that effectively removes all identifying information (see websites in Appendix). The Total Privacy Suite offered by Anonymizer.com combines anonymous surfing (which scrambles the address provided by the internet service provider (ISP), preventing websites from tracking one’s physical location), a spyware-removal tool and a digital shredder that prevents interlopers from tracking

one’s history and other browser information (Rothman, 2005).

Celebrity victims Despite public figures being, of necessity, more attuned to the problem of stalkers and security needs, some continue to needlessly place themselves at risk. A staggering amount of intimate information is broadcast daily in the print media (particularly popular magazines) and on radio and television. It is still not uncommon to hear a media personality extolling the virtues of their favourite restaurant, holiday venue, new car, or even their children’s local sporting club. Those with a public profile should avoid or at least minimise the disclosure of personal information. This strategy may conflict with the agenda of media publicists and employers, for whom popular celebrities who are ‘accessible’ and ‘down-to-earth’ guarantee better ratings and advertising revenue. However, given the growing number of celebrities reporting unwanted intrusions by overzealous fans, there is no longer room for complacency. For some fans, the disclosure of intimate details about their idol creates disillusionment, prompting attacks on the celebrity or third parties. John Lennon’s assassin, Mark Chapman, later reflected on the impact of Anthony Fawcett’s biography John Lennon: One Day at a Time, and a newspaper article about the taping of Lennon’s latest (and final) album: I looked through the book at the pictures of John Lennon on the gabled roof of the Dakota building in New York. Of course I didn’t know anything about the Dakota building. I didn’t know anything about New York. I didn’t even know where John Lennon was. But he was in that book … He told us to imagine no possessions, and there he was, with millions of dollars and yachts and farms and country estates, laughing at people like me who had believed the lies and bought the records and built a big part of our lives around his music … According to this [newspaper article], he said, himself, that the thing about the bed-ins for peace, the concerts for peace, and the whole promotional packages that he and Yoko had done – he said in his own quote that those things were essentially put-ons, that they were phony [sic], that they were fake … And I remember that that was confirmation for me that Lennon was a phony [sic] … Enter Lennon, who to me had been antiestablishment and counterculture and a hero. To find him in the coats of the

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rich on the roof of a multimillion-dollar apartment complex was just too much, at that point in my life, for a disintegrating personality to bear. (Jones, 1992, pp. 218–22)

De Becker (1997) advises his portfolio of famous clients to refrain from conducting interviews in, or allowing any photographs of, their home. Disclosing information about one’s home in particular gives stalkers the impression of intimacy with the victim and conveys the message that their home is not ‘off limits’. Such interviews can also provide valuable clues regarding the precise location of the celebrity’s residence. Of course, many celebrities now jealously guard their privacy, and it is the paparazzi – whose behaviours may constitute stalking in their own right – who expose the celebrity’s most intimate secrets, however embellished, to the outside world.

information to the stalker. It is useful, where appropriate, to provide others with a photograph or description of the stalker, so they can be alert to any intrusions. One victim attending our clinic actually posted photographs of her stalker all around the neighbourhood asking people to report any sightings of the man to her or the police, as she had a restraining order prohibiting his presence in that area. Where children are potential secondary targets it is important that they be instructed in basic safety drills (including having the phone numbers of emergency services beside the phone) and that their school is notified of the situation and security arrangements. Again, where possible a snapshot or description of the stalker should be made available to relevant staff.

Helping agencies

Strategies to combat stalking Since stalking is not a uniform behaviour with a singular motivation there is no single effective strategy for eradicating it. The best strategies for dealing with stalking are those that take into account the individual circumstances, including the nature of any prior relationship between the victim and the stalker, the methods used to harass and the chronology of events. Nevertheless, various authorities have proposed a number of over-arching strategies to combat the problem. It should be emphasised that there is no consensus regarding the general utility and effectiveness of these techniques; indeed, certain approaches draw vehement debate from some groups according to whether, or how, they should be applied. A review of these techniques follows, with particular emphasis on those we have found beneficial in our clinical practice.

Informing others Victims should inform various trusted people that they are being stalked. Family members, neighbours, work colleagues or friends who are unaware of the victim’s predicament can unwittingly disclose important

Victims should also contact appropriate helping agencies, such as the police, victim support organisations, mental health clinics, and domestic and sexual violence programmes where applicable (see Appendix). Ideally, victims should approach those groups or organisations who can claim some familiarity with stalking and who can assist them to devise an individualised response plan though there is still a lamentable dearth of such services in most communities. In our experience, although more generalist helping agencies such as family doctors or local police make earnest attempts to assist stalking victims, they may, through unfamiliarity with these behaviours, suggest approaches which are likely to inflame or escalate the situation and thus exacerbate the victim’s distress and confusion. These services are likely to be more useful in furnishing referrals to agencies with the requisite expertise to provide stalking victims with sound and effective advice aimed at controlling the stalker’s intrusions and minimising further damage and disruption to the target. In dealing with police, victims should provide as much objective documentation as possible (Figure 22.1). A stalking victim who has been sufficiently organised to keep times and dates of various incidents will ease the often onerous task of typically under-resourced law

Strategies to combat stalking

enforcement agencies who may be confronted with a complex trail of behaviours spanning months or even years, some of which do not of themselves constitute criminal behaviour. Victims who feel their complaints are not given proper weight can request to speak with a more senior police officer. Many who receive cursory treatment at the hands of the junior constable manning the front desk are unaware of this option, or indeed the existence of specialised police units which may be more sensitive to the needs of victims. It is helpful if one or two specific officers can be assigned to the case, as the police will be spared much time and the victim unnecessary distress by avoiding the retelling of his or her story on multiple occasions to unfamiliar staff. It is also easier to appreciate a course of criminal conduct if the officer concerned is well acquainted with the wider context of each new complaint. When police do investigate a victim’s complaint it is essential that the victim receive some written record of this, such as an incident report, which may be important in any future legal proceedings. It is not advisable to rely solely on police record keeping, as a number of victims known to us who did not keep duplicate

reports were later told the police documentation had since been ‘lost’. While in some instances police involvement may incense stalkers, because it effectively underscores the victim’s determination to end the behaviour, it can contribute in other cases to bringing the harassment to an end. Stalkers who persist in their activities despite being cautioned by police are clearly signalling, in all but a minority of psychotic cases, their intention to stalk and their awareness that their behaviour is unwanted. Hence, seeking police assistance at the earliest opportunity may bring stalking to a halt in some cases. In other cases it may at least succeed in gaining the cooperation and sympathies of the police and the courts. Conversely, a verbal warning by police with a failure to follow up any subsequent transgressions with definitive legal action gives a cogent message to the stalker that he or she is immune to legal sanctions. Such dereliction sends an equally clear and painful message to the victim that the ‘system’ is not taking the situation seriously. Support organisations can play a critical role in these early stages of harassment. They can provide emotional

KEEPING A RECORD It is vital from the onset of stalking (or as soon as stalking is suspected) to keep records of all the facts and copies of all correspondence. The following steps will help you to organise your files:  Organise your paperwork in a filing system. This doesn’t have to be complex and you should use whatever system you feel comfortable with. Some people like to file things by the nature of the document (e.g. ‘police’, ‘courts’, ‘lawyer’, ‘evidence’, ‘telephone company’), while others prefer to organise their records by date. Regardless of the system used, you should keep the documents in chronological order.  Keep copies of all letters or forms that you send or receive, along with details of the date sent or received.  Keep originals of any documentation where possible.  Don’t scribble over original documents. Attach notes where required, ensuring they are firmly affixed (Post-It notes often peel off).  Don’t file rough notes on scraps of paper. Take a few minutes to transcribe these into a more legible and comprehensible form for your records.  Make notes of telephone conversations. Write down the date, the organisation and name of the person you spoke to, and whatever else he or she told you. File this in your filing system.  Keep your files even when the stalking appears to have ended.  Keep a log of all costs incurred, with receipts if at all possible, and log the time spent on the case and absences from work. You may be able to use this later in a crimes compensation claim.  Your records should be stored in a secure place. It is wise to keep duplicates of all documents at a separate location (e.g. with a trusted friend). Figure 22.1 Keeping a record: guidelines provided to stalking victims in the authors’ clinical practice

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support for the victim and information about stalking, as well as advising on strategies to deal with the stalking. These bodies can also refer victims to specialist treatment services when additional support appears necessary. Most of these organisations are easily accessible on the internet (usually applying the search term stalking), or can be accessed via toll-free telephone listings. Some of these support organisations are listed in the Appendix.

Avoiding contact and confrontation In most instances, when approached or contacted by the stalker, the victim reacts or responds in some way to these advances. Often this is in an attempt to reason with the perpetrator and negotiate an end to the pursuit. Typically, the victim cannot help but convey that he or she is fed up and angry. Others who avoid any verbal response to the stalker may nonetheless unwittingly gratify the stalker’s need to connect with the object of attention by, say, returning unsolicited gifts or letters to their sender. Other common pretexts for maintaining contact include the stalker’s insistence that the victim owes money or that the victim has items in his or her possession that belong to the stalker and which must be returned (these requests are typically made in a piecemeal fashion). It is strongly recommended that any contact between stalker and victim be actively avoided and that this rule be strictly and consistently adhered to, regardless of the victim’s frustration levels or however compelling the need to renegotiate with the stalker (de Becker, 1997; Orion, 1997; Westrup, 1998; Pathé, 2002). When a person first becomes aware of a stalker’s attentions he or she should, wherever possible, inform the pursuer in firm and unambiguous terms that no further contact is wanted. This message should be conveyed once only, in a clear and dispassionate manner which avoids threatening or humiliating language. (Some victims find it helpful to first rehearse this statement, alone or role-played with the therapist or a trusted friend.) Victims must resist the stalker’s attempts to engage them in any further dialogue. Ongoing communications will only reward the stalker’s efforts

to maintain contact, instil hope, or reward optimism that perseverance will eventually be crowned with the desired relationship, and invariably prolong the stalking. This ‘no contact’ edict, derived from applied behaviour analysis and reinforcement theory, contends that any contact with the stalker, however intermittent, reinforces the unwanted behaviour. A common example is the victim who is telephoned incessantly. If the victim resists answering the telephone (many authorities suggest that victims use an answering machine to screen calls and capture any intrusions), even the most determined stalker will, eventually, desist. However, if the victim, typically out of sheer frustration, responds on the twentieth occasion, the message to the stalker is that persistence (in this case 20 phone calls) will eventually be rewarded with contact from the object of attention. It could be expected that the harassment will intensify in the short term using this non-reinforcing approach, but extinction of the unwanted behaviours is the usual result, though the time course for this is variable and frequently difficult to predict. One stalker referred to our clinic telephoned her hapless victim 666 times in a 24-hour period, eventually abandoning this method when her (traced) calls remained unanswered. (The actual number of calls was apparently coincidental, the stalker denying any Satanic significance!) In a number of instances known to us stalkers have provoked their victim into making contact with them in order to undermine the victim’s credibility or to lure them into potentially damaging situations. One of the commonest examples is the stalker who takes out a restraining order against the victim, with conditions which effectively entrap the victim, leading to an arrest for breaching the order (see Chapter 15). An appalling example was that of Kim, a stalking victim whose mother lived alone in an apartment block adjacent to the residence of Craig, Kim’s ex-boyfriend and stalker. When Kim threatened to take legal action against her pursuer, Craig responded by convincing a magistrate that she was harassing him, and – to Kim’s dismay and disbelief – he was granted a restraining order which prohibited her from venturing within 200 metres of

Strategies to combat stalking

Craig’s home. One evening, Kim was called by her mother’s ‘neighbour’ (in truth, Craig feigning the neighbour’s foreign accent) alerting her that her mother had ‘collapsed’ at home. Without reflecting on the legalities of the situation, Kim hastened to her mother’s address, where she was greeted by two police officers. They had been contacted by the ‘victim’ Craig, ‘in a very distressed state’, alleging that Kim had threatened to kill him and was on her way. Although the actual state of affairs was eventually elucidated, the true victim and her mother suffered considerably as a consequence of Craig’s malicious actions. Despite the revocation of the restraining order and the stalker’s arrest for making false reports to police, Kim’s mother felt so unnerved by the events that she moved out of her apartment to another daughter’s address. She did in fact collapse some weeks later from a stroke. Kim blames the stress of the stalking and expresses profound guilt for bringing Craig into her family’s lives. (For further discussion of role reversal, in which the stalker poses as the victim, see Chapter 19). In another case of stalker provocation, a suicidal woman informed by police that the ex-husband she had stalked for over two years had reached ‘breaking point’ and might assault or even kill her, responded, ‘Good. That way I die and he gets punished.’ Her harassment at that point escalated. As a further example of victim-initiated contact that backfired badly, famous horror-story author Stephen King once hired a private detective to investigate a man who had stalked him over a six-month period and who had publicly alleged it was King, and not Mark Chapman, who shot John Lennon. King was advised not to show his stalker any fear: So I walked past him in the town, and said: ‘Take care.’ That’s all. Later that day he plastered the town with his ‘newsletter’ saying I threatened him. He said I grabbed him around the neck and said: ‘Take very good care, because on some dark night I may come and get you.’ That’s a total psychotic distortion of what really happened. (Woman’s Day, February 1995, p. 69)

While the ‘no contact’ approach is likely to be of benefit to many victims, it may be a rather more difficult

undertaking in instances of workplace or neighbour stalking, or in situations of shared child custody, where interaction between the two parties may be unavoidable. Some victims simply cannot resist an opportunity to appeal to logic, unable to accept that their pursuer, who appears to be of normal intelligence and not obviously demented, will not eventually see reason if the victim can invest sufficient time and energy into persuading them. Moreover, it is not uncommon for many stalking victims (especially males) to reject or react harshly to the ‘no contact’ strategy, perceiving it to be an unfair approach that allows the stalker to ‘walk all over them’ or ‘get away with it’. There is no doubt that stalking is unjust, but the overriding objective with this approach is to ensure the victim’s safety and effect an end to the harassment. Victims can do little if anything to directly change their stalker’s behaviour, but they can certainly modify their own actions. This is in many cases the most effective strategy available to them.

Documentation Stalkers often leave tangible evidence of their harassment, common examples being answering machine and text messages, email, letters, cards and other offerings such as soft toys and flowers. Most recipients of these communications are frightened and repulsed, and their natural inclination is to destroy, discard or return the items or messages. Others conceal the evidence out of guilt, embarrassment or a need to shield innocent parties. Victims should, however, retain all materials received from, and document incidents perpetrated by, their stalker, for the purposes of investigation and prosecution. (See Figure 22.1 for an example of the documentation guidelines we provide to victims.) Stalking victims should store and date all taped answering machine messages, as well as any notes, cards, letters, gifts or other items received. We advise victims to avoid handling these (ideally, place them in a plastic document sleeve) and to store the items in a secure location such as a lockable cupboard. In addition, it is wise to maintain a log of any unwanted approaches, or instances of following and surveillance. Where

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possible, victims should make copies of any materials or correspondence associated with the stalking, including copies of any police reports filed, as noted above. We have encountered several instances in which the stalker has broken into the victim’s home and stolen the only documentation of the harassment. In one such case, the victim was dismayed to find the police had ‘misplaced’ their copies of her statements and multiple incident reports, and the telephone company records of the stalker’s calls to her home were incomplete. Another victim with meticulous records spanning a 12-year campaign of harassment lost all of these – her only copies – when her flat burnt down in suspicious circumstances. As a consequence of these experiences we now advise victims to keep a duplicate copy of all their documents at a separate, secure location. This documentation advice is offered with some reservations, given its potential for encouraging a situation where an obsessive follower is confronted by an obsessive victim. The stalker’s driven and preoccupied pursuit erodes and potentially destroys the fabric of his or her existence. Equally though, an increasingly pervasive identity as victim and obsessive gathering of evidence of that victimisation can add another dimension of distress and disruption to that already imposed by the stalking itself. However, the evidence cited can be invaluable to any future legal proceedings against the offender, particularly in helping to establish a course of conduct. To this end, in addition to documenting all stalking incidents, victims should file police reports of any illegal acts that occur during the course of the stalking, such as breaking and entering, theft or assault. Where pets have been maimed or killed in suspicious circumstances the victim should endeavour to obtain a veterinarian’s report, including where indicated the results of any toxicological testing. Similarly, if motor vehicle tampering is suspected this should be supported with documentation from a reputable mechanic. If possible, victims should collect photographic evidence, with dates, of any physical injuries or property damage sustained. Where it is safe to do so, photographing the stalker’s surveillance activities (for example, his presence outside the victim’s home) may also constitute useful

collateral. At the very least the victim should endeavour to note down the licence plate of any suspicious car. It is essential to keep pens and writing material handy at all times.

Telephone harassment One of the commonest methods employed by stalkers to communicate with their victim is repeated telephone calls or SMS messages (Eytan & Borras, 2005). Most victims respond by changing their phone number, a frequently recommended and seemingly logical strategy. This approach, however, is often ineffective in bringing about an end to the harassment, such that some authorities discourage recipients of persistent telephone calls from obtaining new phone numbers (Schaum & Parrish, 1995; de Becker, 1997). Aside from being an expensive and inconvenient exercise, stalkers can be quite resourceful when faced with the challenge of obtaining the new listing (several stalkers boasting to us about the speed with which they succeeded in this task). The experience of having a stalker violate the victim’s privacy in this way can be very damaging, further undermining the victim’s sense of control and confidence in their so-called protectors. Instead, victims are advised to connect an answering machine to their land-line phone to intercept and record the stalker’s calls. De Becker (1997) suggests that victims recruit a friend to record the message on the answering machine, in order to thwart those stalkers who continue to call simply to listen to their victim’s voice (de Becker further recommends that the friend be the same gender as the victim, so as not to provoke a stalker who mistakenly perceives competition). It is recommended that the victim then obtain a second, unlisted phone number for all their personal or business calls, being exceedingly circumspect about who is made privy to the new listing. Employing this approach, it is hoped that the stalker will continue to call on the answering machine line, oblivious to the fact that a second line exists. This serves multiple purposes, capturing the stalker’s unwanted calls for any future legal intervention, eliminating the problem of inadvertent reinforcement and ensuring that the victim retains the confidence to use the telephone. The latter is an important issue, as a fear of

Strategies to combat stalking

answering the phone can greatly exacerbate a stalking victim’s social isolation and vulnerability. Further, for many stalking victims the ringing of a telephone is a potent trigger to marked anxiety symptoms, even years after the telephone harassment has abated. Some have found that recent developments in telephone technology that allow for different tones according to the identity of the caller have been helpful in removing the unpredictability and apprehension associated with a ringing phone. A simple alternative strategy recommended by some victims of telephone harassment is to replace the existing answering machine message with words to this effect: This phone is being monitored. If you wish to communicate with anyone at this number please identify yourself, give your number, and your call will be returned. If you do not do this and you continue to ring, then appropriate action will be taken under the law.

The message should again be recorded by someone other than the victim, in an authoritarian tone. It will not necessarily deter the more determined stalker who has little regard for law enforcement, but it may well dampen the enthusiasm of an incompetent suitor. Victims of less sophisticated stalkers have reported occasional success with other simple strategies. One woman responded to her stalker’s repeated mute calls by immediately stating: ‘This is the call, officer – start the trace now!’ The stalker abruptly abandoned the chase. Another woman, tormented by persistent anonymous calls and police inaction, arranged for her calls to be diverted – to the local police station! If necessary, a victim should also change the voicemail message on his or her cellular phone, to an automated message or one recorded by someone of the same gender. Victims should retain voicemail and SMS messages where possible, backing up SMS data onto a computer if the phone has synchronisation (hotsync) capabilities. Intrusive telemarketers are often perceived as a problem in the wider community, but their practices can be particularly invasive for many stalking victims. The ‘hang-up’ calls of telemarketers may be misidentified as stalker calls, causing needless distress, and victims may misinterpret a telemarketer’s personal data

gathering as a sinister ploy by the stalker’s proxy. The telecommunications industry is endeavouring to improve safeguards for consumers, who in some jurisdictions have the option of blocking incoming calls from registered telemarketers.

Restraining orders The use of protective injunctions (also termed restraining, non-molestation, apprehended violence or intervention orders) against stalkers is a contentious issue. The National Center for Victims of Crime (2007) warns that restraining orders are not foolproof, and cautions victims against assuming a false sense of security from any such injunction, since they can only be enforced once breached. Drawing from her own experience of being stalked for many years by a former erotomanic patient, psychiatrist Dr Doreen Orion (1997) is sceptical about the use and effectiveness of restraining orders. She argues that in her situation the multiple violations of restraining orders by her assailant were not treated seriously by the police. The police actually warned Orion’s stalker against further breaches but – as is so often the case – failed to prosecute her when she disregarded their directions. Orion considers that such warnings serve only to embolden stalkers because, as has been noted earlier, the message to the stalker is that police have no intention of taking action. In some cases, stalkers have interpreted such inaction as a vindication of their actions, or even as a denunciation of the victim. Orion argues that restraining orders are unlikely to be effective against two classes of stalker in particular: (1) former intimates, many of whom have invested too much in the relationship and may become humiliated and enraged if the victim makes any effort to legally prohibit further contact, and (2) erotomanic or other delusional stalkers, whose attachment to the victim is based on a fantasised and idealised relationship such that legal orders are either entirely irrelevant to their quest, or simply a test of their love and devotion. De Becker (1997) also queries the effectiveness of restraining orders against certain categories of stalkers. In his opinion, restraining orders are most likely to be effective against a reasonable person who has limited

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emotional investment in his or her relationship with the victim, and no history of violence. Protective orders may be useful against a casual acquaintance or business client who stalks, but he concurs that they are more likely to inflame estranged spouses or partners who have a deep emotional investment in the victim. In our experience, the majority of these stalkers possess an overwhelming sense of entitlement to their partner and family. Rejection is experienced by these individuals as personally humiliating and a powerful justification for their continued pursuit of the person responsible for their narcissistic wound. It is not surprising that the compounding public humiliation these stalkers perceive with the imposition of a restraining order can precipitate an escalation in stalking behaviours. This may include violence, occasionally of homicidal proportions. Victims who do obtain restraining orders should regard the period immediately following the issuance of the order as a time of heightened risk of physical danger. This is a period which is highly emotionally charged for both stalker and victim. In perhaps the most tragic and extreme example of this, in a six-week period during 1989, four Californian women were killed by their ex-partner stalkers after each had obtained a restraining order to prohibit further harassment. Ironically, one of these was clutching a purse which contained the newly issued order (Montesino, 1993; Gross, 1994). When restraining orders are contemplated, it is preferable to initiate an application early in the course of harassment. In our experience, stalkers who fail to appreciate that their behaviour constitutes a nuisance and source of distress to the object of attention may be capable of receiving this message when a restraining order is issued. A court order received in the early stages of a stalker’s pursuit conveys the victim’s attitude at the outset, and is likely to be more effective than one that is obtained after months or even years of stalking, when the stalker’s emotional investment in the relationship has intensified and the stalker may well be left to wonder ‘Why now?’ One stalker at our clinic was in fact convinced that because his victim applied for a restraining order two years into their imagined ‘relationship’ she had begun seeing someone else.

De Becker (1997) also cautions against the use of restraining orders in response to threats or an escalation in stalking behaviours, as this usually signals that the perpetrator is intensely involved in the stalking dynamic and may become enraged by the added dimension of a legal rein on their behaviour. Finally, it should be borne in mind that restraining and non-molestation orders are civil remedies that rarely attract prison sentences and regrettably pit the victim against the accused (the exception being antistalking legislation in the UK, which enables courtinitiated restraining orders: see Chapter 23). Victims are often better advised to pursue criminal charges against their perpetrator, invoking anti-stalking laws or other charges such as theft, assault or threats to kill, if applicable. This approach diffuses some of the fervour encountered in victim-initiated civil interventions, as the criminal charges are brought by police. This may also reduce the demands on the victim in the court process, including face-to-face contact between victim and defendant. Stalking charges are gradually gaining favour as a first-line approach to stalking offences (in preference to restraining orders), as police and the judiciary become increasingly familiar with their application, but regrettably stalking laws continue to be underutilised. An important advantage of criminal rather than civil remedies is that prosecution under anti-stalking laws offers greater flexibility in sentencing and more serious penalties than civil approaches. Criminal sanctions raise the stakes sufficiently high for a substantial number of stalkers to abandon their quest. Expert opinion and anecdotal evidence suggest that restraining orders may be counterproductive for many stalking victims. Meloy and others (1997), in contrast, contend that the extant domestic violence research supports the use of these orders in reducing the risk of violence in this specific context and affording protection to battered women. In our opinion, obtaining restraining orders should not be regarded as a routine procedure in the management of stalking. We recommend victims consult with professionals, preferably specialists in the area of stalking or threat management, to determine whether a prohibitive order is likely to be beneficial given the individual circumstances of the

Strategies to combat stalking

case. In general terms, the use of restraining orders should best be perceived as an adjunct to other legal proceedings initiated early in the course of stalking. Obtaining a restraining order should not bring with it expectations, at least in the immediate term, of protection and resolution of harassment. The abuses of restraining orders are further discussed in Chapter 15.

Victims of online harassment should tell the offending party that their communications are unwanted and insist that they stop. They should not respond further and should certainly never return the harassment. It is best to exit a hostile situation by logging off or surfing elsewhere. All offending email should be saved, not deleted. Victims should contact the site administrator of the stalker’s ISP or, in the case of email, the system from which the stalker is mailing them. Often sites have an address called postmaster@[ispname].com where problems can be reported. If the stalking persists, the matter should be reported to the police, preferably with a printout of the evidence (e.g. downloaded messages, chat-room transcripts or web-page URLs). There are several organisations that provide online assistance and legal advice to victims of cyberstalking and related crimes (see Appendix).

impaired by fear, thus producing a high potential for injury to innocent parties. For those stalking victims who did not perceive their lives as already ruined, there can be little doubt about the effects of such a tragedy on their future. Our other major concern is that a substantial proportion of stalking victims experience suicidal thoughts, and the access of suicidal people to lethal weaponry is not ordinarily encouraged. Moreover, some stalking victims harbour homicidal feelings towards their stalker (Pathé and Mullen, 1997), and the presence of weapons may facilitate action with personally devastating consequences, however compelling the mitigating circumstances. One victim of stalking with whom we dealt did kill his stalker when enraged and intoxicated. He was convicted of murder, the court discounting as provocation the 18-month history of severe harassment and repeated intrusions which had been inflicted not only on him but on his wife and children. Some victims do feel more secure with a personal (duress) alarm. Those that are centrally monitored will ensure a prompt police response. One of our victims calls the ever-present alarm around her neck her ‘antistalking bling’. Another woman strapped her alarm to her chest like an essential item of underwear; she eventually discarded it, but not for some 14 months after her stalking had ended.

Self-defence training

Workplace practices

Some authorities recommend that stalking victims consider incorporating self-defence training in their safety plans (Shrapnel, 1997). As well as imparting skills that protect one’s physical integrity, self-defence training can have an empowering effect. In conjunction with other forms of support discussed earlier, instruction in self-defence techniques can help diminish feelings of helplessness and vulnerability, and assist the victim to regain a sense of competence and self-respect. We do not endorse the use of weaponry in this approach, and although some victims feel reassured when carrying repellent aerosol weapons their use in many jurisdictions is outlawed. We are particularly concerned about the acquisition of potentially lethal weapons by distressed stalking victims whose judgement may be

While workplace stalking is in many cases the product of individual psychopathology in the employee, the role of organisational and management practices in fostering the instability and tension that can culminate in some cases of workplace violence and stalking has earlier been emphasised. In other instances, stalking at work can be an extension of stalking in other settings, especially by former intimates. Approaches to the management of stalking in the workplace are outlined in Chapter 16.

Cyberstalking

Other security measures Stalking victims should strongly consider a home security check. Often, there are units within local police

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branches which offer this service, but victim support agencies and reputable security companies can also assist in this regard. Relatively simple measures to improve home security include changing locks, and installing deadlocks, lockable windows, exterior motion sensor lights and peep-holes in doors. Trimming shrubbery, especially near windows, is also recommended. We advise stalking victims to invest in a cellular phone so that they can call for help in an emergency. Unfortunately these devices can be another medium for stalker intrusions, so we remind clients that mobile phone calls can be scanned and they should be wary of broadcasting identifying information during their conversations. It is desirable that stalking victims avoid routines that provide the stalker with a predictable schedule for the object of their attentions. Various authorities advise victims to take different routes when travelling to the same location. In some cases, victims have departed unexpectedly for weekends away with friends. These trips have had the added advantage of alleviating some of their fear and isolation. Dogs can be very useful as watchdogs, barking to alert the victim to any would-be intruder and acting as a deterrent to uninvited visitors. They also provide invaluable company, especially to victims living alone or those who have become progressively more isolated as a consequence of their ordeal. Victims should be aware, however, that stalkers may target pets, and they should ensure they have a photograph of their dog in the event he or she disappears. Victims should also understand that training their dog to attack is an intensive undertaking and attacker dogs – like any weapon – have their disadvantages, including the potential for causing harm to innocent individuals.

Clinical management of stalking victims Issues for therapists who work with stalking victims Countertransferance Abrams and Robinson (1998) have noted that stalking victims may evoke a range of emotions in their

therapists, and these discomforting affects and attendant defences may hamper therapeutic efforts. Female therapists in particular, in a bid to eschew their own vulnerability, may respond to the female victim by unconsciously blaming her, or they may overidentify with the patient to the point of encouraging levels of rage that are overwhelming and counterproductive. Male therapists may grapple with feelings of guilt and anger, which they may project onto the victim, or they may become overly protective, reinforcing the victim’s experience of helplessness and vulnerability. Male therapists may also identify with the rejected stalker, intensifying the victim’s feelings of guilt. Both male and female therapists may express reservations about treating stalking victims. One woman stalked for five years by her violent ex-lover informed us that she had been refused counselling by two psychiatrists, both male, on the basis that she posed an unacceptable risk to their practices. Her family physician even declined to be involved in her referral to our service, citing fear of reprisals. For those who work with stalking victims, such awareness of the fear engendered by stalking situations can be a valuable source of empathy, but unfettered anxiety and ambivalence can impede therapy.

Safety, security and confidentiality As noted in Chapter 17, stalkers frequently evoke fear and are shunned by clinicians, who anticipate that they will transfer their attentions to the therapist. Further, as noted above, their victims may be similarly shunned by clinicians who fear becoming targets by association. While in our experience this fear is often exaggerated, therapists who treat stalking victims should be cognisant of their own personal safety issues. Though thankfully rare, it is conceivable, especially in cases of resentful or rejected stalking, that those involved in the victim’s treatment – and whom the stalker perceives as obstructing their cause – may become the target of angry revenge. If there is any doubt about the therapist’s vulnerability they should at the very least ensure optimal security practices at their rooms and in their private life. Ideally, treatment of these victims should be conducted in a setting in which other staff are

Clinical management of stalking victims

present and there is an appropriate level of physical security, such as at the clinic in which we operate. An added advantage for therapists in group as opposed to solo practices, the importance of which cannot be overstated, is the opportunity this provides for readily accessible, informal debriefing with colleagues in an atmosphere of understanding and confidentiality. For further discussion of safety and security measures for health professionals see Chapter 17. Issues of confidentiality are even more pronounced when treating stalking victims, and this is enhanced by regular staff training, policies regarding third-party disclosures, and advances in information technology, particularly the use of data encryption software.

Priorities in management In Chapter 4 it was noted that some stalking victims come to regard suicide as their only means of escape. This risk may initially increase if they perceive that therapy is unlikely to provide an immediate solution. Therapists must be alert to the possibility of suicidal inclinations and manage these accordingly. For victims who are not currently expressing self-destructive ideation the issue must be flagged and a contingency plan devised. It has also been noted that a high proportion of stalking victims contemplate harming their stalker. It is important that victims and their families understand the potential consequences of such action: that an attack on the stalker may backfire (occasionally victims or their loved ones have been injured while retaliating against a stalker), and that they should not assume a lenient response from the justice system, however indifferent the system may have previously appeared to the victim’s fate. Victims who are outspoken in their desire to hurt the stalker should be cautioned that harm occasionally does befall stalkers, and angry, indiscreet victims may become suspects.

Education and supportive counselling Victims of stalking commonly consult general practitioners, mental health professionals or other helping

agencies. They may seek an appraisal of the stalker’s potential for violence, or an opinion regarding the likely course and duration of the stalking. Some are simply trying to make sense of the bizarre behaviours and communications of their stalker. For those who are still active targets, the clinician must primarily focus on assisting the victim to attend to issues of personal safety and security. Health professionals would be well advised to familiarise themselves with community agencies, including victim support services, that can provide further assistance to stalking victims, and to refer the victim where appropriate. As we have noted, in many jurisdictions – including our own – there is a regrettable lack of coordinated services for these individuals. However, there is at least a growing awareness of the need for specialist services in law enforcement, criminal justice and mental health fields. Though it is desirable to encourage the stalking victim to initiate contact with the relevant agencies, the clinician occasionally must adopt a more active advocacy role, particularly where the victim’s functioning is compromised by fear or they are too overwhelmed by hopelessness and helplessness to effectively access the help they require. It is not unusual for victims of stalking to endure months, if not years, of harassment before engaging the services of a professional. For some, earlier attempts to enlist the help of other agencies, particularly police and the legal profession, have met with little success or have actually proved counterproductive. These victims commonly allege their complaints were trivialised. Not a few of the victims who have come to our service have previously encountered implied or direct accusations that they encouraged the stalker’s attentions or that they should be flattered by them. Ineffectual and insensitive reactions serve to exacerbate the victim’s feelings of guilt, powerlessness and alienation, and many are then at a loss to know how to proceed. When presented with a victim of stalking it is therefore essential to adopt an accepting, encouraging and non-judgemental attitude if the risk of adding to the victim’s distress is to be minimised. It is also crucial early in the victim’s presentation to forge a trusting alliance. By the time these individuals

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consult a clinician, their disillusionment and mistrust can be pervasive and they may have become as a consequence quite isolated from their customary supports. It is important to acknowledge the victim’s fears for their privacy and to reassure them that any information including personal contact details will remain confidential and secure. Allaying fears, especially those that may be unrealistic, is a fundamental though occasionally neglected step in establishing a therapeutic relationship with the stalking victim. While it may be more constructive to acknowledge realistic safety concerns than dismiss or trivialise the victim’s fears, particularly for those where the stalking continues and for whom the fear is wellfounded, it is nonetheless important to diminish or eliminate those concerns that, rather than representing a tangible or realistic fear, are the product of the victim’s anxious state. In addition to providing a supportive, educational and advocacy role, the clinician must address the psychological morbidity produced by the stalking experience. Treating health professionals should be mindful of the fact that, in some instances, victims of stalking seek to relieve intolerable symptoms by ‘self-medicating’ with alcohol or other substances. A comprehensive treatment plan for victims of stalking must address not only the primary and largely observable symptoms of psychological and physical distress, but also the frequent concomitants. These can include alcohol and other psychoactive substance abuse, problem gambling, eating disorders, relationship discord and general hostility to others that impede the victim’s social and occupational functioning as well as thwarting rehabilitative efforts. In the early stages of treatment it is also important for clinicians to consider that victims with high levels of psychic arousal and who demonstrate marked avoidance patterns are likely to be poor candidates for more intensive therapies that focus on the exploration and elaboration of the distressing experiences. These include cognitive behavioural techniques such as systematic desensitisation which require the client to be exposed to feared situations (Shalev et al., 1996). For these victims, the priority is to reduce anxiety and arousal and to provide a supportive foundation

before attempting to proceed with other forms of symptom reduction.

Cognitive behavioural approaches For many victims of violent crime, the traumatic and threatening event breaches previously held assumptions about one’s safety. Often a belief in the individual’s strength and resilience is replaced by feelings of extreme vulnerability. The confidence most of us share to a greater or lesser degree in the reasonable and predictable nature of our world is shattered, to be replaced by an expectation of danger and unpredictable harm. Psychological therapies such as cognitive restructuring attempt to correct these erroneous posttraumatic assumptions and evaluations about the world. The approach also targets the relationships between triggering stimuli and responses in the victim. For example, cognitive-based approaches for victims of natural disasters typically seek to challenge the victim’s subsequent appraisals of the world as being imminently dangerous and threatening. Unfortunately, in the case of stalking the victim’s assumptions and evaluations about their safety may be valid, as some remain vulnerable to persisting indiscriminate harm. While cognitive restructuring techniques can be valuable in the treatment of stalking victims, they should focus on rebuilding a realistic and viable sense of safety for the victim. Cognitive-oriented therapies are useful when endeavouring to correct the assumptions that underlie pathological forms of anxiety and depression. The aim is to gradually assist the victim to acknowledge that (1) being in safe situations, even if they remind the person of the stalking, is not dangerous, (2) experiencing anxiety or other distressing symptoms does not lead to a loss of control, and (3) remembering a traumatic and fear-provoking incident is not the equivalent of re-experiencing it. Strategies that seek to restructure the victim’s morbid perceptions of the world are likely to benefit those victims whose stalking and harassment has ceased. They may also be appropriate for those individuals whose victimisation is ongoing, yet whose arousal is

Clinical management of stalking victims

sufficiently manageable to attempt more direct methods to minimise their fear in relatively safe situations. The latter should, however, always be undertaken in conjunction with measures to optimise the victim’s security and overcome the continuing intrusions of the stalker. Clinicians must focus not only on the stalking victim’s fear and overt symptomatology, but equally on their avoidance. Victims frequently avoid both internal (e.g. thoughts or memories) and external cues associated with the stalking, such as the ringing of the telephone, or places and persons associated with the stalker. In most instances their avoidance is rewarded by a reduction in distress. Avoidance responses, though understandable, may in the long term exacerbate the victim’s perceived or actual feelings of isolation. Although avoidance of threatening situations or cues is a reasonable and adaptive response, when avoidance extends to other areas of the victim’s life (e.g. avoidance of leaving home or going to work), alienation from supports and social and vocational opportunities may ultimately impede the victim’s recovery. Avoidance may respond to behavioural techniques such as prolonged exposure and stress inoculation, which aim to assist victims to gradually resume abandoned activities and manage the associated anxiety. Prolonged exposure usually requires victims to confront their fears through a gradual process that increases the nature (imagined vs. real) and the duration (brief vs. extended) of the exposure as well as the subject’s level of arousal (low vs. high) (Foa & Meadows, 1997). During the initial stages of this approach the victim may be asked to imagine a feared event for a brief duration that involves relatively low arousal. As the victim learns to tolerate the imagined exposure to the avoided stimuli, the duration and level of arousal can be gradually increased. It is preferable at this stage to introduce other strategies that assist the victim to manage his or her anxiety as it occurs, such as relaxation training. Some authorities advocate the use of techniques such as eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR) which may allow individuals to deal with their traumatic memories without requiring that they experience the extremes of hyperarousal

(van der Kolk et al., 1994). The use of these cognitive and behavioural techniques in conjunction with supportive therapy may be effective in assisting the victim to re-enter avoided situations without experiencing intolerable fear or distress. When victims of stalking develop complex PTSD, however, there may be a poorer response to exposure therapy than for those with a simpler post-trauma syndrome (Ebert & Dyck, 2004). In part, this may relate to the sense of hopelessness and lack of trust that prevail for complex PTSD sufferers. Their negative expectations of treatment and of the therapist militate against a preparedness to confront avoided situations. Versions of cognitive therapy aimed at enhancing the capacity for trust in personality-disordered individuals, such as time-limited dynamic psychotherapy, may be of benefit here (Ebert & Dyck, 2004). Consideration should also be given to therapies with demonstrated efficacy in borderline personality disorders, particularly in addressing the identity problems and impaired affect regulation common to both borderline personalities and complex PTSD. Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT), developed by psychologist Marsha Linehan to facilitate the integration of contradictory beliefs in borderline personality disorders with fragmented identities, may also be a useful approach for integrating pre- and post-stalking views of the world (Linehan et al., 1993). Victims with complex PTSD who report estrangement and a sense of being permanently changed require interventions that restore positive interpersonal connections, and re-establish past interests and fulfilling activities (Ehlers et al., 2000; van der Kolk, 2002). Janoff-Bulman (1992) emphasises the importance of rebuilding the victim’s assumptive world, and restoring their view of themselves as worthwhile, strong and independent.

Pharmacotherapies Creamer and McFarlane (1999) have noted the dearth of randomised clinical trials of pharmacological agents in the treatment of stress-related syndromes, and there is no ‘gold standard’ pharmacotherapeutic approach. Medication is nonetheless an important adjunct to

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non-pharmacological approaches in sufferers with severe symptoms, and in the treatment of comorbid psychiatric disorders. The selection of medication must be guided by the side-effect profile of these agents, minimising as far as possible any iatrogenic contribution to the victim’s distress and disability. The prescribing clinician must also be mindful of the occasionally protracted course of stress-related syndromes, and hence the potential requirement for long-term chemical treatment. It is important to explain the role of medication to victims and their loved ones, in particular that even though their suffering has been caused by another person some biological changes have occurred that can be normalised by medication (Davidson & Connor, 1999). Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) antidepressants have demonstrated efficacy in the treatment of stress-related symptoms (van der Kolk et al., 1994; Connor et al., 1999; Brady et al., 2000; Davidson et al., 2001; Martenyi et al., 2002). These agents have been reported to ameliorate numbing and arousal symptoms, at least in victims of civilian trauma (Friedman, 1998), and in two double-blind randomised controlled trials the SSRI paroxetine was associated with improvements across all three PTSD clusters (Marshall et al., 2001; Tucker et al., 2001). SSRIs are an attractive choice in the pharmacological treatment of stress-related syndromes as they have also proved effective in alleviating comorbid conditions such as alcohol abuse and dependence, depression and panic (Brady et al., 1995). They are also less toxic in overdose relative to older antidepressant preparations. It should be noted, however, that patients with PTSD may be more sensitive to the acute SSRI side effects of paradoxical anxiety and akathisia (Cooper et al., 2005). While most trials have involved sertraline, fluoxetine and paroxetine (and the latter is the only medication that is currently specifically approved for the treatment of PTSD by Australia’s Therapeutic Goods Administration), other SSRIs such as citalopram and fluvoxamine have shown encouraging results in open trials (Cooper et al., 2005). While monoamine oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) antidepressants are claimed to diminish PTSD symptoms, particularly re-experiencing phenomena, their potential

side effects and dietary restrictions limit their use. Though the reversible MAO-A inhibitor moclobemide is better tolerated, there are to date only limited data to support its efficacy in PTSD (Neal et al., 1997). Tricyclic antidepressants have long been employed in the treatment of stress syndromes. They have shown some benefit with re-experiencing symptoms and in cases with severe insomnia (Creamer & McFarlane, 1999). Earlier research suggested that the 5-HT antagonist cyproheptadine was beneficial in sleep-disturbed patients with PTSD, by reducing nightmares (Gupta et al., 1998). A two-week controlled trial, however, found slightly worse outcomes on measures of PTSD, nightmares and quality of sleep (Jacobs-Rebhun et al., 2000). Although we have used cyproheptadine with some success in Vietnam veterans with chronic warrelated nightmares, we have observed only modest benefits to date with victims of stalking. We have however experienced some early success with the use of the centrally active α1-adrenergic antagonist prazosin in stalking victims with chronic PTSD and severe nightmares. Prazosin has demonstrated efficacy in the treatment of nightmares and overall PTSD symptoms in combat veterans (Raskind et al., 2003; Krystal & Davidson, 2007). Benzodiazepines are prescribed widely as anxiolytics and hypnotics for stress-related symptoms. While they may produce a reduction in anxiety symptoms and insomnia, some authors are not convinced of their usefulness in PTSD and related conditions (Gelpin et al., 1996; Foa et al., 1999). Tolerance and dependence are a significant problem with the benzodiazepines, especially in individuals who may already exhibit comorbid substance abuse/dependence. Anti-adrenergic agents have also been recommended in the treatment of acute stress reactions, particularly propranolol and clonidine (Friedman et al., 1993; Friedman, 1998). Other agents which have also been trialled with variable results include anticonvulsants, narcotic antagonists and antipsychotic medication (Friedman, 1998). In our clinic, which tends to see predominantly the more severely affected stalking victims, medication is not infrequently employed, either as a short-term measure to diminish overwhelming anxiety symptoms

Clinical management of stalking victims

or to treat comorbid major depression. SSRIs are generally better tolerated in this (usually) antidepressantnaive group. More recently we have experienced some success with the third-generation non-SSRI antidepressants such as venlafaxine and mirtazapine, usually in patients who could not tolerate the more serotonergic effects of the SSRIs. A recent randomised controlled trial lent support for mirtazapine treatment, with reductions in anxiety and some PTSD measures (Davidson et al., 2003). However, in our experience all may produce or exacerbate cognitive dysfunction such as short-term memory impairment, a side effect of significant concern to high-functioning individuals who may already be struggling to maintain demanding jobs. Also, since stalking victims place a premium on alertness and selfcontrol, few will welcome or persevere with more sedative preparations. We have preferred to limit our usage of benzodiazepines, given the protracted course of harassment in many cases, problems of abuse or dependence associated with these medications, their exacerbating effects on cognitive impairment and their disinhibiting properties in individuals who may be experiencing suicidal or even homicidal ideation. When prescribed, benzodiazepines are viewed as an effective means of bringing extreme distress under rapid control, but emphasis is placed on the role of psychological measures in achieving control over negative emotional states and self-efficacy in the long term. Despite these intentions, benzodiazepines may occasionally be continued as an adjunct to non-pharmacological therapies in selected cases. Antipsychotic agents are rarely a consideration in treating stalking-related PTSD, although they are firstline drugs in the treatment of a small number of individuals who present as stalking victims, but who are subsequently found to be deluded (see Chapter 19).

Family/partner therapies It is often useful to involve family members or partners of the stalking victim in therapeutic interventions. Significant others frequently share in the primary victim’s distress, either as a consequence of the indirect effects of the stalking (e.g. lifestyle disruptions, altered

relationship dynamics) or directly, when they too become targets for the stalker’s threats and assaults. Family members and partners can be a valuable resource, especially in determining the motivations of the stalker, and constitute an essential supportive foundation for the victim. It is imperative that they receive education about stalking and its impact as well as being alerted to the safety issues. They too will require support and, in some cases, referral for individual counselling. Often significant others seek advice about managing the uncharacteristically erratic or defiant behaviours of the victim. They are also understandably concerned about the likely long-term impact of the stresses on the victim. Some families who are contemplating radical life changes, such as moving house (to a foreign country in some instances), seek the therapist’s guidance in these decisions. Here an awareness of the nature of the stalking and its underlying motives can avert enormous sacrifices which fail to resolve the problem. Occasionally family members or partners are critical of the victim, blaming them for encouraging or becoming involved with the stalker (such disapproval frequently surfacing with the benefit of hindsight). Some express frustration at the victim’s apparent lack of strength and inability to ‘move on’. Of course, none of these responses is constructive, and they deprive the victim of the trusting and non-judgemental alliances that will facilitate his or her recovery. The therapist must tackle counter-therapeutic ignorance by educating significant others about the phenomenon of stalking and shifting blame from the victim to where it properly belongs, with the stalker.

Group therapies It has been noted earlier that victims of stalking frequently perceive their experiences as unique and incomprehensible to the rest of society. They report the failure of others to appreciate the burden and implicit threat posed by the stalker’s behaviour, and many come to feel abandoned and alienated from their usual supports. Group therapies, in the form of self-help or support groups, can play a useful role in the rehabilitation of the stalking victim. These groups can diminish the

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victim’s sense of isolation and alienation. They provide a supportive environment in which participants experience mutual understanding, validation and trust, and a safe venue for sharing their anger, frustration and loss. These groups can also be a valuable resource, as victims exchange reading material and details of agencies or individuals who may have proved helpful, and share information on helpful strategies, security tips and equipment. Ideally, therapeutic support groups should be facilitated by a clinician who is well grounded in the issues faced by victims of stalking, including the complex psychological sequelae. The role of the therapist includes enhancing and maintaining mutual support among members, and retaining a focus on proactive measures that take account of members’ safety and rehabilitation needs. In addition to providing a supportive forum for victims to share their experiences, another important objective of therapeutic groups is the reduction of psychological distress. This is achieved by instructing group members in techniques to manage symptoms of anxiety, panic, anger and/or depression, and assisting them in their effective application. To this end, the trained facilitator and group member set realistic goals, such as the gradual resumption of activities avoided or abandoned due to the stalking, which are reviewed during the course of the group. This should ideally be supplemented with objective measures to assess the progress of individuals and the efficacy of the therapeutic approach. This approach, combining a structured component aimed at restoring those aspects of the victim’s functioning compromised by stalking with the fluidity of group discussions, can be very beneficial to a victim’s social competence and self-efficacy, though this effect is greatest in those cases who are no longer being stalked.

Support organisations for stalking victims Since the mid 1990s several prominent support organisations have been founded which specifically address the needs of stalking victims and their families. These organisations play an invaluable role in providing educational and safety information for

victims, in addition to much-needed emotional support (see Appendix). The increasing recognition of stalking as a prevalent behaviour that can cause substantial damage to its heterogeneous victims has resulted in the appearance of specialist services and support organisations for victims of this crime. Despite the expansion of our knowledge of stalking and to a lesser extent of service provision, in most communities there remains a regrettable lack of appropriate services to address the needs of stalking victims. Several of the victims treated at our clinic travel large distances to utilise our specialised service. One such individual established her own support group in her local area and invited one of our therapists to act in a consultative role to the group. At a time when many governments are retreating from public health service funding and provision, it is an unfortunate reality that those who seek local support organisations for stalking often must establish such services on their own initiative. Despite the frustration this apparent apathy produces for many victims, the experience of forming a support group can be an empowering one, which is often experienced by the victim as instrumental in regaining the self-confidence and autonomy that have frequently been eroded by the stalker’s actions. The task of forming support organisations or groups is, however, beyond the capacity of many stalking victims, some of whom are virtually paralysed by fear and helplessness. Those who continue to be stalked may be too absorbed by their current problems, or have such a sense of foreshortened future they cannot contemplate active participation, or they are understandably reticent to involve themselves in activities with the potential for public exposure and its attendant risks. Stalking victims should nonetheless be encouraged to become active participants in the quest to eradicate stalking from their lives. Involvement in activities such as compiling resources for stalking victims, reviewing the anti-stalking legislation or even writing to local politicians reinforces the message that the victim is ultimately responsible for his or her own safety and protection (a function no one else can provide on a daily basis), and ultimately fosters independence and greater selfefficacy.

Conclusions

Associated issues in treatment As noted in Chapter 4, the experience of a traumatic or threatening event is not of itself sufficient to produce prolonged stress symptoms. It is likely that other individual vulnerabilities contribute to the development and nature of the ensuing psychological disturbance. It is important that clinicians consider the role of such factors in the treatment of stalking victims, as a failure to do so may frustrate rehabilitative efforts. These include the patient’s habitual coping style, past psychiatric history and exposure to prior traumatic experiences (van der Kolk et al., 1996). In addition to the psychological sequelae of stalking, the physical health of stalking victims may be compromised by chronic stress and the effects of deteriorating diet, poor sleep, the memory impairment consequent upon preoccupation and hyperarousal (such that one of our diabetic patients ‘forgot’ to take her insulin) and self-destructive urges. A failure to attend to the victim’s physical ill health by appropriate referral and encouragement to comply with medical advice may also hamper progress on the psychosocial front. The victims of ex-intimate stalkers are typically fearful of further relationships and lack faith in their competence to judge the suitability of any future partner. While the more extreme and maladaptive aspects of this reaction can be addressed in the course of cognitive and supportive therapies, the restoration of trust in other people may never be complete, and victims generally accept that, up to a point, such caution may serve an adaptive, protective function. While victims cannot be blamed for being stalked, we have encountered a number of instances of individuals with a history of embarking upon relationships somewhat precipitously and recklessly, disregarding aspects of their partner which might normally be cause for concern. These are the individuals, often women, who may have married

after only a brief courtship. One stalking victim with such a history had been married twice previously after brief courtships and was barely 25 years old when she sought our help for stalking by her estranged fiancé. She had known this man for less than six months. Unlike the majority who are stalked by ex-intimates, these victims may actually enter a new relationship while the harassment is continuing, or soon after its resolution. For these victims, treatment must also focus on developing less potentially destructive relationship patterns.

Conclusions While stopping the stalker may be the best treatment available to victims, effective management of victims at their earliest presentation reduces long-term morbidity and increases the chances of terminating the stalker’s activities. The management of stalking victims has as its primary objective the alleviation of the victim’s distress and the restoration of interpersonal, social and occupational functioning, while recognising that for those victims who continue to be pursued, such methods must always be accompanied by strategies that promote the safety of the victim and any other parties at risk. The treatment of stalking victims requires an individually tailored approach that takes into account the specific context and circumstances of the harassment. The therapeutic techniques and interventions reviewed in this chapter have demonstrated efficacy in the treatment of patients with stress-related symptoms, suggesting they may also have a potential role in the treatment and management of stalking victims. However, the clinical management of these victims is a complex undertaking for treating professionals, given the variable and often chronic course of the stressor and the range of deleterious effects it can produce in the victim.

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23 Defining and prosecuting the offence of stalking

Introduction The words stalking and stalker are legal terms which have been appropriated by the mental health professions. As discussed in Chapter 1, there is no single construct or definition of stalking. Similarly in the legal domain, behaviour that would constitute stalking in one jurisdiction would not necessarily meet the proof required in another. Although the construct of stalking has made the leap from a legal and social framework to the mental health domain, professionals dealing with stalkers and their victims continue to operate within the legal and social context in which the behaviour occurs. Clinicians must therefore be familiar with the relevant mental health and stalking laws in their jurisdiction, and possess at least a working knowledge of how these are applied. Clinicians are only able to manage a stalker’s behaviour within the bounds of the legal protections and practices of their locality, and effective management often requires more than just intervention by mental health services and appropriate risk management on the part of the victim. As earlier chapters have demonstrated, the management of stalking situations often requires the appropriate use of antistalking or equivalent legislation (see also Mullen et al., 2006). Since 1990, there has been a rapid proliferation of anti-stalking legislation, beginning in the United States and extending to Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and more recently a number of other European states. In the popular arena, the introduction of anti-stalking laws has been wholeheartedly welcomed, but for many jurists, civil libertarians

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and liberals such legislation is highly contentious (Dennison & Thomson, 2005). The framing of antistalking laws has been troubled by the issue of defining a criminal activity that comprises a series of actions that, when taken individually, often constitute legitimate behaviour (for example, sending letters or flowers or waiting outside a person’s home or workplace). In creating a legal definition of stalking, legislators have broadly prohibited intentional contacts and communications that occur on two or more occasions and which render the recipient fearful. The thinking behind such binary regulations may be that requiring a greater number of prohibited acts leaves victims vulnerable to an escalation to violence before the necessary elements of the offence have been fulfilled. It is because these laws require so few – and potentially such inoffensive – acts to establish the offence of stalking that they all too easily may cross the line between prohibiting and punishing illegal behaviours and intruding on legitimate activities. The blurred boundaries between what constitutes legitimate and illegal behaviours have vexed the development and application of anti-stalking laws. These laws raise compelling legal issues, especially in the United States, where constitutionally protected rights and behaviours have been considered by some to be infringed by anti-stalking laws. Anti-stalking legislation equally raises important questions about the nature of social interactions in Western industrialised societies, particularly when a person can at least in theory be convicted of a criminal offence on the basis of several (from their point of view, perhaps, well-intentioned) contacts with someone who chooses to perceive this behaviour as threatening. Nonetheless, anti-stalking

Early attempts to prosecute stalking-related behaviours

laws in our opinion fill a gap in the criminal and civil law that previously permitted effective intervention only after a harasser had caused physical harm to the victim and that largely ignored the enormous potential harm inflicted by inducing persistent fear and apprehension in the victim. This chapter provides an overview of the various approaches taken to proscribe stalking in the USA, Canada, Australia, the UK and those European countries which have developed comparable laws. We focus on the definitions applied to stalking and the attempts made to limit the offence to prevent inadvertently making legitimate activities illegal, as well as the relative importance that different jurisdictions have placed on the intentions of the stalker versus the subjective reactions of the victim. The advantages and disadvantages of different legislation are analysed, placing emphasis on the proper application and the potential misuse of these laws. At the outset we need to acknowledge both our biases and our limitations. We are mental health professionals, not lawyers. We are moved more by the distress of victims and the destruction wrought in the lives of stalkers themselves than by issues of proper legal process. That being said, we are not unaware, at an intellectual level, that issues of legal process underpin basic aspects of civil society of even more significance and moment than the fate of stalkers and their victims. Our reading of the legal literature is an exegesis performed for clinicians and other non-lawyers by clinicians. Caveat lector.

Early attempts to prosecute stalking-related behaviours Although categorising stalking as a criminal offence is a late twentieth-century phenomenon, examples of attempted prosecutions of similar conduct can be found in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century criminal law. However, because stalking was not recognised socially or legally as a distinct form of offending, attempted prosecutions of such conduct had to correspond to existing offences, such as assault or battery. A prosecution for stalking-like behaviour was brought before the English courts in the case of Dennis v. Lane,

in 1704. Dr Lane, a physician, persistently pursued Miss Dennis, a young heiress, against the wishes of her mother. Having once made romantic advances to Miss Dennis, Dr Lane was forbidden by her mother to approach her daughter’s residence, but he disregarded those instructions and entered her house, attempting to gain access to Miss Dennis’s chambers. When the fearful mother and daughter fled to London, he followed the pair, occupying an adjacent room at an inn where they lodged. The following morning, as Miss Dennis was approaching her coach, Dr Lane assaulted one of the men accompanying her, stating that he would force Miss Dennis from them. He was bought before the courts for the assault some months later. Still incensed by his being denied access to Miss Dennis, Dr Lane assaulted a barrister who had previously escorted her to London, beating him severely with a cane outside the courthouse. Dr Lane was detained and again brought before court for the assaults. The court ruled that his behaviour was good cause to require a ‘security of the peace’. He was ordered to provide £400 as security to ensure that he would ‘keep the peace’ for a year and one day, although there are no records to indicate the success of this remedy. Almost a century and a half later, another English case, Regina v. Dunn (1840), provides one of the most detailed accounts of stalking recorded, in this case undoubtedly involving erotomania. The defendant, Richard Dunn, Esquire, a barrister by profession, pursued Miss Angela Coutts for nearly a year. In August 1838, Miss Coutts received two letters from Dunn, a person then unknown to her. Based on the language contained in the letters, Miss Coutt’s assumed an ‘insane person’ was responsible and discarded them. In the same month, Dunn followed Miss Coutts to a hotel where she was staying. Annoyed that this stranger had somehow managed to place his card in her room, Miss Coutts moved to another hotel. Dunn bombarded her with letters at the new hotel, tried to enter the building and made frequent unwanted approaches to her in public. Miss Coutts began to be accompanied by a male servant, whose protection she felt she needed. The contents of one particular letter Miss Coutts received caused her to fear for her personal safety and she made a complaint to the courts. Richard Dunn was

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apprehended and ordered to provide £500 as ‘security of the peace’ and to procure a surety of the same amount from a third party in the event that this was breached. He could not provide the required sureties and was placed in custody at York Castle until the hearing. However, by that time, Miss Coutts had left the district and, ‘induced to hope that such annoyance would not be renewed’, did not direct any further legal proceedings against Dunn. He was subsequently discharged from custody. Upon release, Dunn resumed his pursuit, travelling to London (near the Coutts family home in Piccadilly), sending Miss Coutts letters and packages, following her and her friends, watching her at places she frequented and accosting her on the street, at church and on vacation. Greatly alarmed for her safety, Miss Coutts was granted a warrant to apprehend Dunn in December 1838. Richard Dunn was again unable to provide the required sureties and was incarcerated for a short period. Once released, he continued his harassment of Miss Coutts throughout 1839. In May of that year he sent her a letter proposing that they meet. The letter contained the ominous sentence: ‘If you refuse this request, you will, when it is too late, repent a course, the consequences of which will sooner or later fall on yourself and your family’ (Regina v. Dunn, 1840, p. 943). Miss Coutts restricted her daily activities and ensured she was always accompanied by a friend and a male servant, living in constant fear that Dunn would commit some act of violence against her. She again sought recourse from the courts, this time requesting that Dunn be ordered to find sufficient sureties for keeping the peace and thereby restrained from further ‘molesting, annoying and terrifying’ her. In her application to the court, Miss Coutts was required to submit ‘articles of the peace’ (a written oath) that showed a reasonable basis for her fear of bodily harm and that a threat had been made against her. The court determined that ‘articles of the peace are not sufficient unless they shew a threat. The threat need not be in words, but may be inferred from a course of conduct’ (p. 939). The articles of the peace submitted by Miss Coutts were deemed insufficient to establish the requisite fear, and the charges against Dunn were dismissed.

Recognising the miscarriage of justice that resulted from the limitations inherent in the legal system at the time, the judges concluded the case by stating: Perhaps the law of England may be justly reproached with its inadequacy to repress the mischief, and obviate the danger, which the prisoner’s proceedings render too probable; and we may naturally feel surprised if none of the numerous Police Acts have made specific provisions for that purpose (p. 949).

Unfortunately the judges’ prescience was largely ignored. Although ‘sureties of the peace’ attempted to prevent offensive acts before they occurred, they offered little discouragement to the infatuated or determined stalker. Thus, while the ‘mischief’ and ‘danger’ presented by stalkers was evident to the courts in 1840, no legal mechanisms were available to prosecute this form of conduct. Any prosecution of stalking behaviour had to be mounted on the basis of existing criminal or civil offences that sought to punish crimes against the individual (e.g. assault or trespass), the community (e.g. Public Nuisance Acts) or, more recently, within the context of the family (e.g. Domestic Violence and Matrimonial Proceedings Acts). The criminal laws and torts primarily employed to prosecute stalking conduct were assault, harassment, menacing, intimidation, terroristic threatening, malicious communications, or trespass (Guy, 1993; McAnaney et al., 1993; Home Office, 1996). Pursuing offenders under these laws provided some recourse for victims, but as a systematic means to address the activities associated with stalking they proved inadequate for several reasons. First, criminal laws related to assault, menacing or intimidation address discrete incidents that are illegal in and of themselves, in contrast to the myriad activities used to harass the victim of stalking, which taken individually may often constitute no offence. The use of such laws to prosecute stalking would require multiple prosecutions of the offender. An effective prosecution under such circumstances would be so protracted as to deter victims who are reluctant to repeatedly provide essential testimony (and indulge the stalker’s desire for contact through the judicial process). Secondly, most anti-harassment offences are classed as summary offences or misdemeanours. As a consequence their penalties are limited

The impetus for anti-stalking legislation

(typically fines) and unlikely to dissuade most stalkers or afford the victim any protection. Finally, laws such as menacing require an immediate threat of violence against the victim, which is not applicable to many stalking situations, where threats, if they exist at all, are rarely explicit but largely implicit in the course of following or surveillance. Civil law remedies, such as restraining or nonmolestation orders, were another means by which stalking victims could attempt to protect themselves. To obtain a restraining order or its equivalent, however, the onus is on the victim to make an application to the court and to provide sufficient evidence of an imminent threat against his or her physical safety (Guy, 1993). This petitioning process is frequently associated with lengthy delays between application and hearing and may involve the expense of hiring counsel. Many jurisdictions restrict issuing restraining orders to intimate or former-intimate relationships, thereby excluding those circumstances where a victim is pursued by an acquaintance or stranger (Sohn, 1994; Home Office, 1996). The greatest limitation of restraining orders, however, is the notorious difficulty of enforcing them. Often referred to as ‘paper shields’ (Smith, 1995), in practice these orders do little to abate stalking and frequently serve to intensify the anger and determination of the perpetrator (see Chapter 21 for further discussion, in addition to Walker, 1993; Mullen & Pathé, 1994b). Criminal and civil laws could in theory extend their scope to stalking, but these laws failed to reflect the unique nature of stalking behaviour, which involves a series of related and seemingly legitimate actions, as opposed to single or unrelated and clearly illegitimate offences. In practice, any effective legal action against stalking usually required a physical assault against the victim or damage to property. Criminal justice intervention was all too often stalled until the stalker ‘did something’. Jane McAllister, herself a victim of stalking, testified to the US Senate Judiciary Committee Hearings on Antistalking Legislation in 1992: The police were not insensitive, but they were stymied. The man violated almost every area of my life, but had broken no law. The police worked with me to prevent an assault but, in

the final analysis, said there was nothing they could do till an assault occurred. (National Institute of Justice, 1996)

At the same hearings, Mrs Sandra Poland, the mother of a young stalking victim, testified that: Despite the threats he has made against our lives, despite his repeated violations of restraining orders, despite the professional assessment of him as dangerous, both the District Attorney and our own attorney have said that nothing can be done until he has ‘done something’. What is the ‘something’ they must wait for him to do? Kidnap [my daughter]? Rape her? Kill her? (cited in Walker, 1993)

It was this gap in the law, which in practice if not in theory permitted effective intervention only after escalation to violence, that prompted consideration of a more effective and specific legislative response to the problem of stalking. Feminist critics argued that rather than introduce laws specific to stalking, there should be a strengthening and proper enforcement of existing anti-harassment laws, which would demonstrate a greater commitment by governments to address systemic violence against women (e.g. making restraining order violations punishable by significant terms of imprisonment: Way, 1994). In the end, however, the pressure was for something to be done about stalking, and for obvious political and some practical legislative reasons, the response of governments has been to create a new category of offending by the enactment of specific anti-stalking statutes.

The impetus for anti-stalking legislation The 1989 murder of Rebecca Schaeffer was the primary impetus for the development and introduction of antistalking legislation. Schaeffer was by no means the first celebrity to suffer the unwanted attention of a disturbed fan, nor the first victim of an escalation from stalking to violence. She was, however, the first high-profile victim to be fatally attacked by a stalker, and her death has virtually become synonymous with the public outcry and media pressure that culminated in the instigation and passage of the world’s first anti-stalking statute in California (Gilligan, 1992; Resnick, 1992; Anderson, 1993; Sohn, 1994).

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Schaeffer’s death received intense media attention, in relation to both the circumstances of the murder and the seemingly bizarre motives of the perpetrator. Characterisations of a ‘deranged’ stranger easily able to correspond with, and locate, his victim helped reinforce a social anxiety that emphasises vulnerability to crime and suspicion regarding the intentions of others. While the public outrage over Schaeffer’s death was sufficient to galvanise a political response to this behaviour (Bureau of Justice Assistance, 1996), the murders of four women from Orange County, California, also in 1989, further emphasised the gaps in existing laws to deal with stalking. In each case, the victim had been pursued by a former intimate partner prior to her murder and had obtained a restraining order in response to the ongoing harassment (Guy, 1993; Montesino, 1993). The highly publicised deaths of these five women stimulated public demand for a response to stalking. The political response was by any standards rapid. California State Senator Edward Royce, the representative for Orange County, sponsored a bill in 1990 making stalking a criminal offence. The bill was passed in September 1990 and came into effect on 1 January 1991. The California Penal Code defined the offence of ‘stalking’ as: any person who wilfully, maliciously, and repeatedly follows or harasses another person and who makes a credible threat with the intent to place that person in reasonable fear of death or great bodily harm.

A credible threat was defined as ‘a threat made with the intent and the apparent ability to carry out the threat so as to cause the target of the threat to reasonably fear for his or her safety’. The statute’s sentencing provision carried a maximum term of one year’s imprisonment and/or a $1000 fine for an initial conviction, with enhanced penalties if the perpetrator violated a court order or subsequently committed another stalking offence against the same victim within seven years (2–4 years imprisonment). In less than nine months the California legislature had conceived and enacted the first law to prohibit stalking. The primary legal elements of this offence were a course of conduct over a period of time that evidenced a continuity of purpose to harass, alarm

or annoy a person. In response to California’s landmark law, each US state subsequently introduced antistalking legislation, or amended existing criminal statutes to address stalking behaviours. In what was aptly described as a ‘torrent of legislation’ (McAnaney et al., 1993), 30 states enacted anti-stalking legislation in 1992 and an additional 19 jurisdictions passed anti-stalking laws in 1993, most states framing their legislation in response to local and highly emotive cases of stalking. In 1993 Canada passed a comparable law prohibiting stalking in its Criminal Harassment Law. The rush to enact specific anti-stalking legislation in North America was followed by the passage of similar laws in each Australian state and territory between 1993 and 1995 (Purcell et al., 2004b). While Australian law is based on the common law of England and Wales, as well as state and federal legislation, Australian courts not infrequently refer to North American (particularly Canadian) judgements, and North American decisions often influence legislative initiatives in Australian states (e.g. the use of victim impact statements, or defences such as the battered spouse syndrome). It was not unexpected, therefore, that once anti-stalking laws were established in North America a campaign to introduce comparable legislation in Australia would be forthcoming. Like the experience in North America, the highly publicised murders of women in the context of ongoing harassment by former intimate partners, and the public outrage accompanying these cases, were catalysts for anti-stalking laws in Australia (McMahon & Davids, 1993; Goode, 1995). Although the majority of Australian states already had laws that prohibited harassment, intimidation or malicious communications, the option to strengthen such laws was, as in North America, passed over in favour of the creation of a new criminal offence. New Zealand also moved in 1997 to enact the Harassment Act, which prohibits unwanted intrusive behaviour that causes fear. The introduction of anti-stalking laws in North America and Australia was followed by public calls in the UK for similar laws to be enacted. The UK tabloid press ably placed stalking on the national political agenda, providing a plethora of cases involving the pursuit of celebrities (particularly members of the royal family), strangers or former intimate partners. Wells

The critical elements of anti-stalking laws

(1997) succinctly expressed the beliefs underscoring the push for anti-stalking laws, both in the UK and elsewhere: that violence/stalking is increasing, that something ‘must be done’ to address this, and that specific legislation, as a vehicle for social change, is the appropriate means to achieve this. Although stalking was touted as a ‘growing menace’ (Turl, 1994), legislators in the UK were relatively circumspect in their response to the problem. Academics questioned whether existing criminal and civil laws were sufficient to deal with this behaviour, and queried the impact any extension of the law would have on legitimate activities (Allen, 1996; Wells, 1997). Despite an initial failed attempt to introduce an anti-stalking law in 1996, in the subsequent year the British Government passed the Protection from Harassment Act to establish two offences to deal with stalking and other forms of harassment (e.g. racial intolerance). The Act created a lowlevel offence in Section 2 (Criminal Harassment) and a higher-level offence in Section 4 (Putting People in Fear of Violence). The Act came into force in June 1997 and applies to England, Wales and Northern Ireland, with a separate provision for Scotland (see Petch, 2002, for a comprehensive discussion of the Protection from Harassment Act). European countries have been slower to respond to the crime of stalking. To date, Belgium (law passed in 1998), the Netherlands (2000), Malta (2005), Austria (2006) and Germany (2007) are the only European states to have passed specific anti-stalking laws (Modena Group on Stalking, 2007). Other European countries have enacted laws that may be applied to stalking behaviours, but which do not punish stalking under a separate provision (de Fazio & Galeazzi, 2005). For example, Norway prohibits ‘frightening or annoying behaviour or other conduct that violates another person’s right to be left in peace’, and France outlaws malicious phone calls, as well as sexual harassment. Italy’s Penal Code contains a provision related to ‘harassment or disturbance to others’, but this is not a criminal offence, merely a ‘contravention’. In 2004, a specific anti-stalking bill was presented in Italy following several serious cases of stalking widely reported in the media, although to date this bill has failed to proceed (de Fazio & Galeazzi, 2005).

The critical elements of anti-stalking laws Anti-stalking laws share the broad common purpose of prohibiting repeated unwanted forms of contact and communication that render the recipient fearful. Despite this shared objective, the specific definitions applied to stalking and the essential elements required to establish the offence vary considerably from one jurisdiction to another, both between and within countries (Purcell et al., 2005b). Most jurisdictions framed their legislation in response to local and often violent cases of stalking (typically involving ex-intimate partners), with each jurisdiction giving greater or lesser emphasis to the rights of the victim and the accused. As a consequence, no single legal definition of stalking exists and there is considerable variation in the application of these laws across jurisdictions. This contrasts with the more uniform definitions applied to many criminal laws such as theft, battery or murder. That being said, most anti-stalking laws require at least one of three critical elements to establish the offence: conduct requirements, intention and the response of the victim.

Conduct requirements The first necessary element for the offence of stalking is the performance of the requisite ‘act’ or prohibited conduct. In California and several other US states, the law requires a course of conduct against a victim involving harassment or following. The National Institute of Justice in its Model Anti-Stalking Code for the States (1996), a document intended to bring uniformity to US anti-stalking laws, defines stalking as ‘repeatedly maintaining a visual or physical proximity to a person or repeatedly conveying verbal or written threats or threats implied by conduct’. Canada’s Criminal Harassment provision similarly requires conduct involving repeated following or communicating, besetting or watching a place occupied by the victim, or engaging in threatening conduct. In the UK, the Protection from Harassment Act requires either a course of conduct that amounts to harassment, or conduct that causes the victim to fear that violence will be used against him or her.

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In contrast to this approach of prohibiting conduct broadly defined as ‘harassment’ or following, in several US states (e.g. Michigan) and in each Australian jurisdiction, legislators have explicitly specified within the laws activities that constitute stalking. Prohibited acts in these jurisdictions consist of, but are not limited to:  Following the victim.  Loitering outside the place of residence of the victim or some other place frequented by the victim.  Keeping the victim under surveillance.  Entering or interfering with the victim’s property.  Giving offensive material or leaving such material for the victim to find.  Approaching or confronting the victim.  Telephoning, sending letters or electronic messages to, or otherwise communicating with the victim. It is worth noting that this approach to legislation often requires amendments as technology develops (e.g. cyberstalking) and more inventive stalkers concoct new methods of intrusion that are not proscribed in the original legislation (for example, see Radosevich, 2000). It has been argued that those US states that specify prohibited activities within their stalking statutes are unlikely to have their statutes fall to constitutional challenges on the basis of vagueness, as potential stalkers are put on notice as to what behaviour is illegal (Walker, 1993). The doctrine of vagueness, which operates under the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment of the US Constitution, requires that legislation be written with sufficient clarity to enable a person of common intelligence to ascertain the boundaries of lawful conduct and behaviour (Thomas, 1993; Faulkner & Hsiao, 1994). To date, several American states have suffered the striking down of their anti-stalking statutes on the basis of vagueness (e.g. Oregon v. Norris-Romine/ Finley, 1995; Starr v. Eccles, 1995; State v. Bryan, 1996; Long v. The State of Texas, 1996). Conversely, many jurisdictions in the USA and elsewhere have chosen not to specify those activities that constitute stalking, for fear that courts will consequently limit prosecutions only to those behaviours so proscribed (National Institute of Justice, 1996). In most jurisdictions, anti-stalking legislation requires the prohibited conduct to occur on two or more

occasions. A notable exception is Belgium, where a single episode of intrusiveness (irrespective of the response of the victim) may qualify as stalking (de Fazio & Galeazzi, 2005). Several US states do not specify within their statutes the number of acts required to constitute stalking, referring instead to a ‘series of acts’, although US courts have interpreted this to mean acts performed on at least two occasions (e.g. People v. Heilman, 1994). Requiring as few as two prohibited actions to constitute the offence of stalking will undoubtedly assist the proscription of behaviour prior to an escalation to violence. This low threshold also increases the likelihood, however, that essentially inoffensive behaviours will be prosecuted as stalking (for example, maintaining on two occasions a ‘visual proximity’ to a person). Where these regulations become increasingly problematic is in those jurisdictions that do not specify the number of acts required to constitute stalking, or provide any reference to a ‘course of conduct’ (e.g. Canada and several Australian states, including New South Wales and Western Australia). For example, although a defendant must ‘repeatedly’ follow or communicate with the victim according to the Canadian provisions, acts such as ‘watching and besetting’ are not explicitly qualified by the need for repetition. Consequently, a person may in theory be convicted of stalking if he or she performs a prohibited act on only one occasion. This signals a significant departure from all other anti-stalking laws, which distinguish the offence on the basis that it relates to a series of actions, as opposed to one act. The risk that inadvertent behaviour will be prosecuted as ‘stalking’ is greatly increased in these jurisdictions, although the requirement that specific intent must accompany the crime in these states may hopefully lessen misuse of the laws. It is noteworthy that under the Californian statute the act of stalking also requires that the perpetrator both make, and possess the means to execute, a credible threat against the victim. This provision was included to ensure that the perpetrator intended to cause harm to the victim, thus protecting inoffensive or legitimate behaviours from being captured by the offence (Guy, 1993; Boychuk, 1994). Such a requirement is problematic on several levels. It fails to acknowledge that many stalkers never make explicit threats against their victim

The critical elements of anti-stalking laws

(Mullen et al., 1999; McEwan et al., 2007a), or, if they do, do not possess the necessary means to effect them. It also fails to recognise that a significant threat is usually implied in the course of conduct (e.g. disclosing an intimate knowledge of the victim’s daily routine). Finally, such a provision regresses to the obligation of the victim having to wait until ‘something happens’ before having recourse to legal protection. In practice, stalking victims in California can be subject to an indefinite period of harassment before the police have cause to respond. Though regarded by the Californian legislature as a necessary component of the ‘act’ of stalking, the credible-threat restriction poses significant difficulties for the enforcement of stalking laws according to one of the Assistant District Attorneys who leads the state’s stalking prosecutions (Saunders, 1998). As a consequence, few US states have adopted this element in their anti-stalking laws, instead providing both for explicit threats and for the recognition that certain behaviours, whatever the perpetrator’s claimed intentions, would be expected to cause a reasonable person to feel threatened (Bureau of Justice Assistance, 1996).

Intention The role of the perpetrator’s intentions in the offence of stalking is one of the most controversial and vexed aspect of these laws (Dennison & Thomson, 2005). It is generally considered a prerequisite of the criminal law that, in order to obtain a conviction, the offender must have intended to commit the crime or have been reckless as to the consequences of their actions (Burke, 1976). Criminal offences may vary according to whether general intent is sufficient (i.e. that the perpetrator’s illegal actions were voluntary or wilful) or whether specific intent is required (i.e. that the offender possessed an additional culpable mental state during the commission of the offence, for example, to place the victim in reasonable fear of harm or death). Anti-stalking laws in Canada, Australia, the UK and the Netherlands, and in most US states, either require that the offender possess the intent to harass or cause mental or physical harm to the victim, or rely upon a recklessness standard whereby the defendant should have known that their conduct would result in

untoward effects such as harassment, apprehension or intimidation. The requirement that an offender possess the intent to harass or harm a victim can raise profound difficulties with the offence of stalking. Some stalkers do not intend to harm or alarm; instead they may possess the, albeit misguided, intention to establish or rekindle a relationship with the object of their affection. Despite their pursuit of the victim and the fear this elicits, if the requirement for a guilty intent is retained in the absence of any specific aim to harass or harm, such stalkers could not be convicted of an offence. In Western Australia, a man was charged with stalking for repeatedly approaching and intruding on a woman he had met while repairing the photocopier at her workplace. Following this brief contact, the man made repeated visits to the woman’s workplace and later to her home. These unwanted approaches persisted for over seven years and did not abate when the woman obtained a restraining order. When finally brought to court under the new anti-stalking laws, the magistrate found the defendant not guilty on the basis that he did not believe the man had intended to intimidate or frighten the woman. The magistrate in his judgment opined, ‘I don’t think he was intimidating her, he was just being persistent. He was being like a little puppy dog wagging its tail’ (The West Australian, 2 February 1996). That a proportion of stalkers suffer psychiatric conditions (e.g. erotomania or other delusional conditions: see Zona et al., 1993; Mullen & Pathé, 1994a; Harmon et al., 1995; Kienlen et al., 1997; Mullen et al., 1999) that effectively preclude the formation of criminal intent further renders this provision problematic in practice. In response to the difficulties that intention poses for the prosecution of certain stalkers, jurisdictions in the USA, Australia and Scotland, for example, have adopted a minimum standard of intent. Anti-stalking legislation in at least 16 US states does not require proof that the defendant intended to cause fear, alarm or any untoward effect in the victim (Office of Justice Programs, 1997). Instead, if the victim is subjected to behaviour considered likely to frighten or harm a reasonable person, then the crime of stalking has been committed. In these jurisdictions (e.g. Michigan), it is

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necessary only to demonstrate that the defendant intended to commit the act that caused the victim fear. In effect, the victim’s perceptions, reactions, vulnerabilities and sensitivities become the critical elements that define a stalking event, rather than the intentions of the defendant. We thus have a victim-defined crime, which is virtually unique. While the non-lawyer may not be troubled by such a proposition, lawyers, for very good reason, are often less sanguine about overturning one of the most venerable and central tenets of criminal law. The absence of traditional criminal intent requirements in some anti-stalking laws has been praised by victim advocates and prosecutors for enabling the apprehension of most, if not all, stalkers (Saunders, 1998). However, in recognising that psychiatric illness may be relevant to the emergence and the prosecution of stalking behaviour, it is from a mental health perspective both poor practice and poor policy that few of these anti-stalking laws contain provisions requiring the psychiatric assessment and management of such offenders (see Fritz, 1995, for a review of proposed mental health provisions within anti-stalking laws). If it is prevention, not mere punishment, that is to guide the progress of anti-stalking laws, then it is essential that such laws contain provisions for mandatory assessment and mandated treatment of offenders when indicated.

The response of the victim The final requisite element in most anti-stalking laws is the reaction of the victim. In the USA, the UK and Canada, anti-stalking provisions require that the victim suffer emotional distress or fear for their safety due to the actions of the stalker. This distress is usually assessed both subjectively (i.e. the victim must actually suffer emotional distress or fear) and objectively (employing the standard of what a ‘reasonable person’ would be expected to experience). The inclusion of an objective standard of distress and suffering ensures that the offence is not wholly contingent on the vulnerabilities of each victim. In State v. Bryan, 1996, the Kansas appellate court found the state’s anti-stalking law unconstitutionally vague on the basis that it did not include objective guidelines to determine whether a

stalker’s actions were alarming, annoying or harassing to the victim. The defendant successfully argued that the crime of stalking ‘depends on the sensitivity of the complainant’, a concept rejected by the appellate court, which subsequently interpreted the statute to include a ‘reasonable person’ standard. In contrast to the uniform requirement of a subjective and/or objective measure of the victim’s response in most jurisdictions, the majority of Australian laws and the corresponding New Zealand statute are surprisingly vague in relation to this issue. For example, in New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory the prosecution need not prove that the victim feared personal injury as a result of the defendant’s actions, thereby abandoning the need for a subjective or objective standard of harm. In the State of Victoria, the stalking law was amended (Crimes (Stalking) Act, 2003) to remove the requirement that there be proof that the victim actually experienced apprehension or fear as a result of the stalking. In justifying this change, the Victorian Attorney General stated that: The offence of stalking should focus on the behaviour of the offender rather than the response of the victim. The evil in the offence is in the actual stalking. The intention on the part of the offender to cause fear … is the key factor that should make the behaviour criminal. The fact that a target of stalking is unaware or is not easily frightened should not prevent prosecution of the offence. (Crimes (Stalking) Act, 2003)

As the final sentence of this quote demonstrates, the Victorian legislation was also amended to remove any requirement that the victim be aware of the pursuit and victimisation (a provision largely in response to a series of cases in which multiple female victims were filmed by a perpetrator without their knowledge, a practice commonly referred to as ‘upskirting’: see Chapter 9). In the remaining Australian states, although the laws specify that the offender must intend to cause harm or apprehension, they fail to elaborate regarding whether the victim must subjectively experience such an effect. In Australia, therefore, most jurisdictions do not require stalking victims to experience any untoward effects as a consequence of their harassment. In contrast to anti-stalking legislation in other jurisdictions, Australian legislators have resolved that fear or harm

Associated elements of anti-stalking laws

should not be prerequisites to establish the offence of stalking, in order to ensure that resilient or otherwise unaffected victims are not denied appropriate legal recourse (McEwan et al., 2007b).

The majority of anti-stalking laws provide a scale of offending, thereby enabling the prosecution of a range of offensive behaviours. In the USA, most statutes proscribe misdemeanour and felony stalking offences, the latter invoked in those cases involving the breach of protective orders or the accompaniment of violence to the offence. The range of penalties for stalking in the USA varies considerably, from a maximum of 12 months’ imprisonment for felony stalking in West Virginia to seven years for the equivalent offence in Illinois. In the UK, the summary offence of ‘harassment’ (Section 2) attracts a maximum of six months’ imprisonment, while the indictable charge of ‘putting people in fear of violence’ (Section 4) is punishable by up to five years’ imprisonment. These penalties are commensurate with those imposed for criminal harassment offences in Canada and the Netherlands. In Australia, stalking is punishable by a maximum of two to three years’ imprisonment for summary offences and up to five years’ imprisonment for indictable offences involving aggravation. In the State of Victoria, however, the maximum penalty for stalking is 10 years’ imprisonment, one of the most severe penalties imposed in the world. This is a peculiarly harsh sanction, given that Victoria does not provide a scale of offending or require a subjective measure of suffering, and ascribes the criminal responsibility of recklessness to the offence (Wiener, 1995).

conduct was in the circumstances appropriate or lawful. In the UK, the Protection from Harassment Act does not apply to those persons who can demonstrate that their conduct was for the purpose of preventing or detecting a crime, or whose behaviour under the particular circumstances can be proved ‘reasonable’. Several Australian states similarly provide defences against the charge of stalking if it can be shown that the conduct was for the purposes of a genuine industrial, political or other public dispute, or was carried out as part of official duties related to the enforcement of the criminal law or the protection of public revenue. The Californian anti-stalking law states that ‘constitutionally protected activity’ is not included within the meaning of the statute, and specifically exempts acts of stalking that occur during labour picketing. Other US states have similarly exempted lawful demonstrations, journalists, process servers and private detectives, to ensure that selected members of the community who possess a legitimate purpose can lawfully conduct their business without fear of, or nuisance from, anti-stalking laws. However, what constitutes a ‘legitimate purpose’ or ‘constitutionally protected activity’ has been the subject of debate in US appellate courts. For example, an anti-abortion protester in the USA was charged with stalking an abortion clinic director, after she repeatedly followed the director, suggested that she should get a bullet-proof vest and disclosed an intimate knowledge of the layout of the director’s home (Faulkner & Hsiao, 1994). Political protest groups argue that such behaviour is consistent with lawful demonstration, and contend that stalking laws potentially infringe these rights to free speech. It remains to be seen how US courts will deal with the issue of what constitutes legitimate or constitutionally protected behaviour. The socio-political persuasions of the judges hearing these cases may turn out to be an intriguing variable.

Exemptions or defences against a charge

Special provisions

Given the potential for anti-stalking laws to intrude upon essentially legitimate behaviours, the majority of jurisdictions have framed their laws to include specific exemptions for those who can demonstrate that their

To date, relatively few jurisdictions have extended their anti-stalking provisions to include novel elements that enhance their practical application or conversely limit their potential for abuse. Several jurisdictions, however,

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have included exceptional provisions within their laws which are noteworthy. For example, the South Australian State Government framed its anti-stalking law to include a ‘double jeopardy’ protection clause in order to address the legislation’s potential for misuse and abuse. This provision states that: 1. a person who has been acquitted or convicted on a charge of stalking may not be convicted of another offence arising out of the same set of circumstances and involving a physical element that is common to that charge, and 2. a person who has been acquitted or convicted on a charge of an offence other than stalking may not be convicted of stalking if the charge of stalking arises out of the same set of circumstances and involves a physical element that is common to the charge of that other offence. Thus, an offender cannot be convicted of stalking if the series of acts was related to, and part of, another offence (e.g. a paedophile convicted of sexual assault cannot also be prosecuted for stalking, if following and surveillance were related to the preparation for the assault). Similarly, an offender convicted of stalking cannot also be prosecuted for trespass, for example, if this occurred during the commission of the offence. The South Australian Government included these provisions to ensure that the offence of stalking is not used to ‘load up’ an indictment in cases where a series of crimes have been committed (Goode, 1995). Unfortunately, this feared loading-up occurs in many Australian states, with initial sentencing statistics indicating that stalking is infrequently the principal charge brought against an accused. For example, in Victoria, the charge of stalking was most often included in a series of offences against defendants. In less than a third of cases was stalking the principal (i.e. most serious) charge for which a defendant was sentenced (Department of Justice, 1997, 1998). This loading-up with a stalking charge is occurring in particular in the case of suspected paedophiles, probably at least in part because in the State of Victoria the maximum sentence for stalking may be far higher than that for substantial sexual offences of, for example, indecent exposure or indecent assault. The inclusion of such protection clauses as those developed by the South Australian Government appears warranted in all

anti-stalking laws, as such provisions help ensure that stalking is recognised and, more importantly, treated as a serious offence, rather than a useful adjunct to augment a case against a disliked offender. Victoria’s anti-stalking law contains a contentious provision that, if satisfied on the balance of probabilities that a defendant has stalked another person and is likely to continue to do so, the courts may impose a restraining order against the defendant. The magistrate or judge must necessarily find that the defendant has stalked in order to grant such an order. Thus a person may be labelled a ‘stalker’ in the absence of any criminal conviction related to such behaviour and on the basis of a civil standard of proof (Wiener, 1995). In the UK, legislators included special provisions within the Protection from Harassment Act to link claims for civil damages and court-initiated restraining orders to the criminal offences contained within the law. For example, any breach of the Act may become the subject of a claim in a civil proceeding by the victim, whereby damages may be awarded for any anxiety and financial loss caused by the harassment. Furthermore, a person convicted under the Act may be subject to a court-imposed restraining order that prohibits the defendant from further engaging in the harassing activities. If the defendant continues a prohibited course of conduct with this order in effect, he or she is liable to a maximum of five years’ imprisonment, a not insignificant disincentive for some stalkers. The provision of court-initiated restraining orders eliminates several difficulties encountered with the traditional victiminitiated system, such as the lengthy and potentially dangerous delays between application for a protective order and hearing, the expense of petitioning the court, and the victim incurring the wrath and resentment of the perpetrator for initiating legal intervention. The linking of civil provisions to the criminal offences in the Protection from Harassment Act should offer a reasonable deterrent for those who continue to flout the law, while affording the victim earlier intervention if harassment persists, and enabling compensation for any loss and suffering. The recognition by legislators in the UK that a range of remedies is required to adequately address this form of offending is also welcomed.

Conclusions

Initial evaluations of the application and effectiveness of anti-stalking laws Early indications suggest that some anti-stalking laws are not being appropriately applied, such that they are failing to respond to the experiences of victims whose circumstances prompted these very laws. For example, Harris (2000) evaluated the use and effectiveness of the Protection from Harassment Act in the UK in relation to stalking cases in the three years after the Act’s introduction. The study examined all 167 Protection from Harassment cases which had been sent by the police to the Crown Prosecution Service during 1998 for a decision on prosecution. Interviews were also conducted with police officers, crown prosecutors, magistrates and victims of harassment. The author concluded that the Act is ‘being used to deal with a variety of behaviour other than stalking, including domestic and inter-neighbour disputes, and rarely for stalking itself’ (Harris, 2000, p. vi; italics added). Furthermore, few victims in the UK were aware that the legislation existed, and most prosecutions were found to involve the less serious offence of ‘harassment’ rather than the offence of causing ‘fear of violence’, since police deemed it was ‘easier to prove the lower-level offence’. Similarly, in our own state of Victoria, the criminal charge of stalking is relatively rare in comparison to the volume of applications for restraining orders (which are predominantly recommended as a first-line approach by police). For example, using the most recently available data (for 2005/06), 6134 applications for restraining orders under the Stalking section of the Crimes Act were finalised in the Magistrates’ Court, 48% of which were granted (Magistrates’ Court of Victoria, 2006). This is an almost five-fold increase on the number of alleged offences of stalking recorded by the police (n = 1306; Victoria Police Crime Statistics, 2006). In those cases where stalking convictions were recorded, the majority were disposed of through non-custodial sentences (Freckelton, 2001). Further evaluations of the application and effectiveness of anti-stalking legislation are clearly required, particularly in the United States, where these laws have been available for close to two decades. Hopefully future investigations will reveal a more reassuring picture

regarding the use and utility of anti-stalking laws than these preliminary findings provide.

Conclusions Since 1990, a new category of offending has been established in many Western countries. The categorisation of stalking as a criminal offence has been a swift and contentious exercise. By no means a new behaviour, stalking rapidly came to be perceived as a new and increasingly prevalent antisocial behaviour. Such beliefs gain considerable currency in those societies with ‘law and order’ agendas that value governments which are seen to be tough on crime and sensitive to the needs of victims. The criminalisation of stalking is a natural extension of such cultural beliefs and legislative agendas. Although the option of modifying and strengthening existing anti-harassment laws was available, legislators in most industrialised English-speaking countries have instead chosen the popular response to prohibit this form of behaviour through specific anti-stalking legislation. Between 1990 and 1993, each US state and Canada enacted laws or amended existing statutes to criminalise stalking. Australia followed soon thereafter with the introduction of anti-stalking legislation in each state and territory between 1993 and 1995. The speed with which these laws were enacted is noteworthy, given that the problem of stalking was well entrenched in these Western societies. The cumulative effect of lobbying by the women’s movement and domestic-violence groups was undoubtedly instrumental in demonstrating the need for laws to address violence against women. However, feminist critics argued that the ‘speedy criminalisation’ of one aspect of this problem was a knee-jerk reaction that served public-relations imperatives for governments, as opposed to any desire to address systemic violence in society (Way, 1994). The observation that politicians, as public and often reviled figures, frequently draw the attention of disgruntled and deluded stalkers also has not escaped critics seeking to explain this rapid response. However, the haste with which these laws were conceived and enacted has increased the likelihood that they may infringe constitutionally protected

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activities, along with the probability that inadvertent or inoffensive behaviours may be prosecuted as ‘stalking’. The other notable aspect of anti-stalking laws is their lack of uniformity. Stalking as a criminal offence varies considerably both within and between countries. Whereas California requires a stalker to intend to cause distress to the victim and pose a credible threat to their safety, in Michigan it is the perceptions and the reactions of the victim to a course of conduct that define whether stalking has occurred. Emphasising the responses of the victim of stalking ensures greater enforcement of anti-stalking laws, yet this is largely at the expense of traditional elements of culpability, any compromise of which may increase the likelihood that inadvertent behaviours are seen as stalking. Furthermore, while most laws require the stalker’s unwanted conduct to occur on two or more occasions to demonstrate a ‘continuity of purpose’ to harass (a surprisingly limited proscription in order to establish such a malevolent objective), in Canada and several Australian States the qualification of repetition of prohibited acts is largely absent, thus enabling the prosecution of an accused, in theory, on the basis of only one unwanted contact. In practice, one episode of ‘disturbing the peace’ is sufficient to legally qualify as stalking in Belgium. Despite these limitations, anti-stalking laws have undoubtedly filled a gap in the criminal and civil law

that previously permitted effective intervention only after a harasser had caused physical harm to the victim and that largely ignored the enormous potential harm inflicted by inducing persistent fear and apprehension in the victim. Nonetheless, stalkers vary considerably according to their motivations, their psychiatric status and their response to management (Mullen et al., 1999). Laws that fail to include a range of remedies to address this variation are unlikely to offer an effective solution. With the exception of a handful of US statutes, most laws have failed to consider the value of including mental health evaluations and intervention as part of the sentences imposed on convicted stalkers. Similarly, the concept of treatment has been eclipsed by the desire for punishment. Whether antistalking laws prove effective may ultimately depend not only on the motivations and psychiatric status of the offender, but on the willingness of the criminal justice system to view the offence seriously (Abrams & Robinson, 1998). The public often looks to the criminal justice and legal systems to prohibit and punish antisocial behaviour, yet there are limits to what the law can do to help protect victims and prevent unwanted forms of conduct. Whether anti-stalking laws in their current form, and in their current application by the police and courts, will prove an effective remedy to the problem of stalking remains to be seen.

Appendix: Victim services

United States of America

Canada

National Center for Victims of Crime Stalking Resource Center

Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime

www.ncvc.org/src Information for those affected by stalking and referral on victim and crime-related issues.

www.crcvc.ca

Barbara Schlifer Commemorative Clinic www.schliferclinic.com

The Stalking Victims Sanctuary www.stalkingvictims.com Resource for stalking victims, law enforcement, mental health professionals, researchers, educators, legislators and security personnel.

Metropolitan Action Committee on Violence Against Women and Children (METRAC)

National Criminal Justice Reference Service

United Kingdom

www.ncjrs.org Sponsored by the National Institute of Justice. Provides reports on various studies conducted by the Institute on stalking, violence and domestic abuse.

www.metrac.org

Suzy Lamplugh Trust www.suzylamplugh.org

Australia National Organization for Victim Assistance (NOVA) www.trynova.org

Refer to specific stalking websites above, or victims of crime services can be accessed through the Department of Justice in your State or Territory.

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New Zealand Victim Support www.victimsupport.org.nz

Cyberstalking resources CyberAngels www.cyberangels.org A network of volunteers, including law enforcement officers, that monitors the internet, investigates harassment complaints and provides support to victims.

Working to Halt Online Abuse (WHOA) www.haltabuse.org Volunteer organisation founded in 1997 to fight online harassment through education of the public and law

enforcement personnel, and empowerment of victims. Resources and information about cyberstalking and related situations, and assistance for people currently experiencing online harassment or those wishing to avoid such harassment.

WiredSafety www.wiredsafety.org Network of law enforcement officers and legal experts who specialise in raising public awareness of internet privacy and security, investigating cybercrime (including cyberstalking) and assisting cybercrime victims online.

Anonymous remailer information www.theanonymousemail.com www.anonymizer.com

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Legal cases Long v. The State of Texas (1996) 931 S.W. 2nd 285. Naidu v Group 4 Securitas Pty Ltd (2005) 618 New South Wales Supreme Court. Oregon v. Norris-Romine/Finley (1995) 134 Court of Appeals of Oregon. People v. Heilman (1994) 25 Cal. App. 4th 391. Starr v. Eccles (1995) 136 Court of Appeals of Oregon. State v. Bryan (1996) 73, 9. Kansas Superior Court.

Index

acquaintance stalking, 47–48, 63 adolescence, 125 see also juvenile stalkers adolescent crushes, 125 alcohol abuse, 14 management, 242 Alcott, Louisa May, 1–2 Anderson, Pamela, 142 anger management, 243 answering machines, 271 anti-adrenergic agents, 278 antidepressants stalkers, 256 victims, 278 false revictimisation, 224 antipsychotic drugs, 108–109, 224, 279 anti-stalking laws , 5–6, 248–249, 282–283 application, 293 associated elements of, 291–293 exemptions or defences against a charge, 291 penalties, 291 special provisions, 291–292 Australia, 286, 290–291, 292, 293 Canada, 286, 287 critical elements of, 287–291 conduct requirements, 287–289 intention, 289–290 victim response, 290–291 cyberstalking, 154 early attempts at prosecution, 283–285 effectiveness, 293 impetus for, 285–287 misuse of, 167–168 United Kingdom, 286–287, 291, 292, 293

313

314

Index

anti-stalking laws (cont.) USA, 286, 288, 291, 293–294 California, 15, 286, 287, 288–289, 291, 294 Michigan, 294 see also legal system anxiety, see impact of stalking anxiolytics, 224, 256, 278 Arrow, Fairlie, 210 asphyxia, paraphilic, 120–121 case example, 120–121 assault, see violence assessment false victims, 219–223 stalkers, 253–255 confronting the patient, 254 facilitating the assessment, 254–255 information base, 253 mental disorders, 255 psychological functioning, 255 referral, 253–254 see also risk assessment attachment between stalker and victim, nature of, 242–243 affectionate/amorous attachment, 61, 62 persecutory/angry attachment, 61, 62 attacks, see violence attention seekers, 201 Australia anti-stalking legislation, 286, 290–291, 292, 293 juvenile stalking, 126–129 prevalence of stalking, 24–26 victim study, 38–41 false victims, 210–212 avoidance responses, 277 Bardo, Robert, 12, 51, 52, 158, 200 Barschak, Aaron, 199 behaviour-based models, 63–64 Bellush, Sheila, 159, 170 benzodiazepines, 224, 256, 278, 279 Bernal, Claire, 173 Black, Laura, 174, 178, 179 Blackthorne, Allen, 159, 170 borderline erotomania, 98–101 case examples, 98–99 bullying, stalking and, 127–128 Byck, Samuel, 200

California, anti-stalking legislation, 15, 286, 287, 288–289, 291, 294 Canada anti-stalking legislation, 286, 287 victim study, 36–37 cancelling goods and services, 158–159 celebrities, 12–13, 50–51, 161 stalking of, 12–13, 197, 204 prevalence, 197–198 preventive approaches, 265–266 stalker typologies, 200–205 see also public figures Chapman, Mark, 141, 265–266 child abuse, 12, 14 sexual, 12, 21 child custody, 169 children as secondary victims, 52, 170 see also juvenile stalkers chronic stress, 53–56 church, stalking by proxy and, 160 Classification and Regression Trees (CART), 229 clomipramine, 256 clonidine, 278 cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) stalkers, 242, 243 victims, 276–277 communities, 13 complaints tribunals, 168–169 complex trauma syndrome, 54 coping mechanisms, 56 core dynamic, 7 correctional settings, stalker behaviour in, 170 counselling, of victims, 275–276 countertransferance, 274 Coutts, Angela, 283–284 crime, 14 criminal justice system, see anti-stalking laws; legal system Cullen, Trevor, 142 cyberstalking, 152–156 behaviours, 153–154 combating strategies, 273 cyberstalkers, 155 definition, 152–153 email harassment, 153, 155 laws, 154 prevalence, 154–155 same gender, 142 victims, 155–156 cyproheptadine, 278

Index

Dando, Jill, 199 Dante Alighieri, 7–8 databases, 13 date stalking, 47 de Clérambault’s syndrome, see erotomania declining relationships, 263–264 delusions, 96–98, 256 of being stalked, 212–213 case example, 212–213 management, 223–224 erotomanic, 96–98 violence and, 234 Dennis v. Lane (1704), 283 dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT), 259 Dietz, Dr Park, 24, 51 disorders of extreme stress (DES), 54–55 disorganised/disturbed juvenile stalkers, 128–129 documentation, 179, 269–270 keeping records, 267 domestic violence, 12, 15, 75, 239 stalking as a form of, 12, 15–16, 58–59 drug abuse, see substance abuse drug therapies, see pharmacotherapies, victims; specific drugs Dunn, Richard, 283–284 Duran, Martin, 201 Durham, Judith, 141–142 education of employers, 180–181 of victims, 275–276 Eliot, T. S., 8 email harassment, 153, 155 empathy, 242–243 employment, see workplace stalking enlistment of others in stalking, see stalking by proxy ephebophilia, 117 epidemiology, 22–24 female stalking, 136 see also prevalence erotic manias, 94 erotic paranoia, 94, 95 erotomania, 59–60, 84, 92–109 borderline erotomania (pathological infatuations), 98–101 case examples, 94, 98–99, 102–104, 105–106, 107 delusions, 96–98 history of, 92–95 homoerotomania, 141 see also same-gender stalking

management, 108–109 object of affection, 107–108 pathologies of love, 96, 104–107 prevalence, 108 primary, 104–107 prognosis, 108–109 symptomatic, 101–102 exhibitionism, 115 case example, 115 ex-partners, stalking by case study, 4–5 stalking duration, 33 victims of, 46–47 violence and, 233, 239 see also prior relationship factitious disorders, 215–216 case example, 215–216 management, 225 false victimisation syndrome, 209–210 false victims, 165, 209–225 assessment of, 219–223 account of stalking, 220–221 behaviour, 221–222 evidence, 221 involvement of other therapists, 222 motives, 222 past history, 222 physical examination, 222–223 stage of presentation, 220 Australian study, 210–212 case examples, 212–218 management, 223–225 typology of, 212–218 delusions of being stalked, 212–213, 223–224 factitious disorders, 215–216, 225 false revictimisation, 213–214, 224 malingerers, 216–218, 225 role reversal, 214–215, 224–225 UK/Netherlands study, 218–219 family stalking by proxy and, 159 victim typology, 47 family court, 169–170 family therapies, 279 famous victims, see celebrities; public figures fans, stalking by, see celebrities Farley, Robert, 174, 178, 179 female harassment, 15

315

316

Index

female stalkers, 136–140 case examples, 138, 139–140 choice of victim, 137 juveniles, 127, 131 motivations, 137–138 psychopathology, 137, 139 see also same-gender stalking fetishism, 115–116 case example, 116 Fixated Threat Assessment Centre (FTAC), UK, 207–208 fixation on public figures, 201–205 case examples, 203, 204 chaotic, 204 persecuted, 204 pretenders, 203–204 relationship or intimacy seekers, 202–203 unusually persistent petitioners, 203 usefulness of concept, 204–205 Foster, Jodie, 15, 36, 98 friends stalking by proxy and, 159 victim typology, 47 Germany, prevalence of stalking, 30–31 Gibson, Mel, 142 Gless, Sharon, 141 Graf, Steffi, 51 group therapies, 279–280 Guiteau, Charles, 200–201 harassment, 287–288 email, 153, 155 female harassment, 15 health professionals, 184–185, 186, 188 telephone harassment, 270–271 two-week threshold, 31–32 health professionals stalking of, 184–196 case example, 190–191 impact, 189–191 management, 193–196 patterns, 191–193 risk to subsequent health professionals, 196 stalking by proxy, 159–160 studies, 185–189 victim typology, 48 hebephilia, 117 helping agencies, 266–267

Hinckley, John, 15, 36, 98 homicide, workplace, 172 see also violence homoerotomania, 141 see also same-gender stalking Hoskins, Robert, 161 humiliation, 71 Humphrey, Thomas, 174–175 identity theft, 154 Impact of Event Scale (IES), 55 impact of stalking, 38, 40–46, 53–57 on health professionals, 189–191 juvenile stalkers, 129–130 psychopathological impact, 41–46 reduction of, see reduction of the impact of stalking risk assessment, 231–232 psychological and social vulnerabilities, 246–248, 249 workplace stalking, 177–178 incompetent suitors, 17, 18–19, 49, 66–68, 82–83, 86–91 case examples, 88–90 clinical features, 86–88 versus intimacy seekers, 90–91 management, 90, 260–261 psychopathology, 88–89 targets of, 87 individual rights, 18, 19–20 infamy seekers, 201 infatuation, 96 with health professionals, 188, 191–192 pathological, 98–101 case examples, 98–99 injustice, 20 insight in stalkers, 245, 254 intellectual function, 243 intent, anti-stalking legislation and, 289–290 internet, 162 see also cyberstalking intimacy seekers, 17, 18, 48–49, 66–68, 82–86 case examples, 84–86, 202–203 clinical features, 83 female, 137 versus incompetent suitors, 90–91 juvenile, 129 management, 258, 260 natural history, 83 psychopathology, 83–84 public figure/celebrity stalkers, 198, 200, 202–203, 204

Index

risk assessment, 230, 240 same-gender stalkers, 147 violence and, 84 jealousy, 73–74, 76 case example, 74–75 juvenile stalkers, 124–135 versus adult stalkers, 130–133 case examples, 128, 129, 130 empirical study, 126–129 management, 133–134 victim management, 134–135 Kierkegaard, Søren, 8–10 King, Stephen, 141, 269 Krueger, Bob, 174–175 Lardner, Kristin, 22 law, see anti-stalking laws; legal system legal system exploitation by stalkers, 164–166 contributing to harassment, 165–166 enforcing contact, 166 tracing fugitive victims, 164–165 failing of stalking victims, 166–170 complaints tribunals, 168–169 correctional settings, 170 family court, 169–170 legal system enforcement, 166–167 misuse of stalking charges, 167–168 protection orders, 168 minimising legal system abuses, 170–171 workplace stalking and, 182–183 employer responsibilities, 182 legal actions against stalkers, 182–183 legislation, see anti-stalking laws Lennon, John, 141, 265–266 Letterman, David, 51, 200 lifestyle changes stalker management, 258–259 victims, 40, 45, 150 health professionals, 190 loading charge, 4, 292 Long v. The State of Texas, 288 love, 104–105 pathologies of, 96, 104–107 see also erotomania love melancholies, 94 love obsessional stalkers, 59–60

McAllister, Jane, 285 McEwan, Ian, 142 Madonna, 161, 166 malingerers, 216–218 case example, 216–218 management, 225 management erotomania, 108–109 false victims, 223–225 mental disorder, 256–257 stalkers, 6–7, 180, 251–252, 256–261 formulation, 255–256 incompetent suitors, 90, 260–261 intimacy seekers, 258, 260 juveniles, 133–134 predatory stalkers, 122–123, 261 problems of clinical management, 252–253 rejected stalkers, 259–260 resentful stalkers, 261 stalking of health professionals, 193–196 early stages of stalking, 194–195 established stalking, 195–196 onset of stalking, 194 preventive strategies, 193–194 stalking of public figures, 206–208 victims, 179–180, 274–281 cognitive behavioural approaches, 276–277 education and supportive counselling, 275–276 family/partner therapies, 279 group therapies, 279–280 issues for therapists, 274–275 juveniles, 134–135 pharmacotherapies, 277–279 support organisations, 267–268, 280 workplace stalking, 178–183 see also assessment masochism, 20 see also sexual sadism/masochism media, 5 same-gender stalking reports, 141–142 stalking by proxy and, 161–162 mental disorder, 59–61 assault risk and, 234–235 assessment, 255 management, 256–257 psychotic versus non-psychotic, 60–61 see also psychopathology; specific disorders Michigan, anti-stalking legislation, 294

317

318

Index

Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), 70, 77 mirtazapine, 279 mobile phone harassment, 153 moclobemide, 278 monoamine oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) antidepressants, 278 monomania, 92–93 motivations, see stalking motor vehicles, 161 Naidu v. Group 4 Securitas Pty Ltd, 178 narcissism intimacy seekers, 84 rejected stalkers, 70–71 neighbour stalking, 48 Netherlands false victim study, 218–219 victim study, 42–43 Newton-John, Olivia, 51 no-contact approach, 243, 268–269 non-psychotic stalkers, 60–61 violence and, 60 Norman, Jonathan, 110, 141, 200 nymphomania, 94 obsessive following, 11, 70–71 obsessive relational intrusion, 3, 86 online stalking, see cyberstalking optimism, unrealistic, 243–244 ordering goods and services cyberstalking, 153 stalking by proxy, 158 Oregon v. Norris-Romine/Finley, 288 Orion, Doreen, 142, 185, 271 overdependence, 71 paedophilia, 116–117 case example, 117 paparazzi, 161 paraphilias, 113–122, 243 case examples, 114–115, 116, 117, 118–121 exhibitionism, 115 fetishism/voyeurism, 115–116 paedophilia/hebephilia, 116–117 paraphilic asphyxia, 120–121 sexual masochism/sadism, 117–120 telephone scatologia, 114–115 upskirting, 121–122

paraphilic asphyxia, 120–121 case example, 120–121 Parche, Günter, 51 partner therapies, 279 pathological infatuation, 98–101 case examples, 98–99 Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ), 45 Paulhus Deception Scale, 77 Pech, Michael, 173 People v. Heilman (1994), 288 personal information, protection of, 179, 264–265 personality disorders incompetent suitors, 88 rejected stalkers, 70 violence and, 234–235 petitioners, persistent, 203 Petrarch, 7–8 pharmacotherapies, victims, 277–279 see also specific drugs pimozide, 108–109 Polard, Sandra, 285 police investigations, 266–267 politicians, see public figures post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 41, 44–45, 53–56 false victims, 216 pharmacotherapies, 278–279 prazosin, 278 predatory stalkers, 17, 20, 49, 66–68, 110–123 celebrity stalkers, 200 juvenile stalkers, 129 management, 122–123, 261 non-sexual, 122 paraphilias, 113–122 case examples, 114–115, 116, 118–121 exhibitionism, 115 fetishism/voyeurism, 115–116 paedophilia/hebephilia, 116–117 paraphilic asphyxia, 120–121 sexual masochism/sadism, 117–120 telephone scatologia, 114–115 upskirting, 121–122 psychopathology, 111 studies, 110–112 violence and, 111, 239 pretenders, 203–204

Index

prevalence, 22–24 Australia, 24–26 cyberstalking, 154–155 early estimates, 24 erotomania, 108 Germany, 30–31 public figure stalking, 197–198 United Kingdom, 28–30 USA, 24, 26–28 preventive approaches, 263–266 celebrity victims, 265–266 declining and terminating relationships, 263–264 health professionals, 193–194 protecting personal information, 179, 264–265 recognising the would-be stalker, 263 prior relationship, 61–63 risk assessment and, 231, 233, 241 see also ex-partners, stalking by prisons, stalker behaviour in, 170 privacy protection, 12–13 health professionals, 194, 274–275 private detectives, stalking by proxy and, 157–158 case example, 158 professional contacts, victim typology, 48 property damage, 39, 146 propranolol, 278 prosecution, see anti-stalking laws protection orders, 168 pseudovictims, see false victims psychics, stalking by proxy and, 160–161 psychological functioning assessment, 255 psychological rape, 11, 15 psychopathology, 97, 171 false victims, 210–212, 219 female stalkers, 137, 139 impact of stalking on victims, 41–46, 53–56 risk assessment, 231–232, 237 incompetent suitors, 88–89 intimacy seekers, 83–84 management, 242 predatory stalkers, 111 public figure/celebrity stalkers, 198–199 rejected stalkers, 70, 76 resentful stalkers, 77 same-gender stalkers, 142–143, 146 violence risk assessment, 234–235, 240–246 mental state as risk factor, 241–242

psychotic stalkers, 60–61 violence and, 234 public figures, 50–51, 197 case examples, 203, 204 inappropriate communications and approaches, 205–206 particular risks to, 199–200 prevalence of stalking, 197–198 preventive approaches, 265–266 risk management, 206–208 security and, 199 stalker psychopathology, 198–199 stalker typologies, 198, 200–205 fixation, 201–205 see also celebrities rape false allegations of, 209 psychological, 11, 15 Ray, Margaret, 200 Razer, Helen, 53 Reagan, Ronald, 98 real-estate agents, stalking by proxy and, 160 RECON typology, 62–63 reduction of the impact of stalking, 262–263 clinical management of victims, see management helping agencies, 266–267 juvenile victim management, 134–135 support organisations, 267–268, 280 see also preventive approaches, security measures referral, 253–254 Regina v. Dunn (1840), 283–284 rejected stalkers, 17–18, 66–68, 69–76 case examples, 71–73, 74–75 child custody and, 169 clinical features, 69–70 health professional stalkers, 192 jealousy, 73–74, 76 juvenile stalkers, 128, 132 management, 259–260 psychology and psychopathology, 70, 76 public figure/celebrity stalkers, 200 relationship to other classifications, 70–71 same-gender stalkers, 147–148 unrealistic optimism, 243–244 use of complaints tribunals, 169 violence and, 75–76 workplace stalking, 173

319

320

Index

relationships in stalking, 238–239 declining and terminating relationships, 263–264 prior relationships, 61–63 risk assessment and, 231, 233, 238–239 resentful stalkers , 17, 19–20, 50, 66–68, 76–81 case examples, 78–81 clinical features, 76–77 health professional stalkers, 188, 192–193 management, 261 nature of resentment, 77–78 psychopathology, 77 public figure/celebrity stalkers, 198, 200, 204 risk assessment, 240 same-gender stalkers, 149 use of complaints tribunals, 169 workplace stalking, 174, 178–179 restraining orders, 271–273, 285 non-compliance, 245, 285 retaliatory stalkers, 77, 81 juvenile stalkers, 128 nature of retaliation, 78 see also resentful stalkers retribution, 78 see also resentful stalkers revenge, 78 see also resentful stalkers rights, individual, 18, 19–20 risk assessment, 227–250 actuarial risk assessment instruments, 227–228 assault risk, 232–236, 237 availability of weapons, 235–236 demographic variables, 235 mental disorder, 234–235 prior offending, 235 prior relationship, 233 substance abuse, 235 threats, 233–234 assessment process, 236–249 assignment to risk category, 236–238 stalking risk profile, 238–249 continued or recurrent stalking risk, 230–231, 238 psychological/social damage risk, 231–232, 237 public figure stalkers, 206–208 risk factors, 227, 228 current clinical risk factors, 241–243, 246 future hazards, 243–246 historical risk factors, 240–241 identification, 229, 240–246

Roberts, Ian, 142 role reversal, 165, 214–215 management, 224–225 sadism, 20, 117–118 safety measures, see security measures same-gender stalking, 141–151 case examples, 143, 147–149 case reports of, 142–144 comparison with opposite-gender stalkers, 145–146 media reports of, 141–142 psychopathology, 142–143, 146 studies of, 144–145 victims, 149–150 satyriasis, 94 Schaeffer, Rebecca, 12, 22, 200 murder of, 12, 14, 51, 158, 285–286 schizophrenic disorder erotomania and, 101, 102 case examples, 102–104 intimacy seekers, 84 risk assessment and, 228 same-gender stalkers, 142–143, 146 secondary victims, 51–52 workplace stalking, 177–178 security measures, 13–14, 266–274 documentation, 179, 269–270 keeping records, 267 no-contact approach, 243, 268–269 public figures, 199, 206–207 restraining orders, 271–273 self-defence training, 273 telephone harassment, 270–271 therapists, 274–275 workplace practices, 179–180, 181, 273 selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) antidepressants stalkers, 256 victims, 278, 279 false revictimisation, 224 Seles, Monica, 51 self-defence training, 273 sex crimes, 112–113 child sexual abuse, 12, 21 see also predatory stalkers sexual sadism/masochism, 117–120 case example, 118–120 Silverman, Joy, 22

Index

simple obsessional stalkers, 59, 60 SMS messages, 153, 270–271 Spielberg, Steven, 110, 141, 200 stalkers assessment, 253–255 confronting the patient, 254 facilitating the assessment, 254–255 information base, 253 mental disorders, 255 psychological functioning, 255 referral, 253–254 classification/typology of, 17, 58–68 behaviour-based models, 63–64 corollary of domestic violence, 58–59 law enforcement perspectives, 64–66 prior relationship/motivation, 61–63 underlying mental disorder, 59–61 female, see female stalkers juveniles, see juvenile stalkers management, see management recognition of would-be stalkers, 263 see also incompetent suitors; intimacy seekers; predatory stalkers; rejected stalkers; resentful stalkers stalking, 1, 10 archaeology of, 7–10 combating strategies, 266–274 avoiding contact and confrontation, 268–269 cyberstalking, 273 documentation, 269–270 helping agencies, 266–268 informing others, 266 restraining orders, 271–273 self-defence training, 273 telephone harassment, 270–271 workplace practices, 273 definitions of, 2–5, 282 legal definitions, 5–6 threshold for number of intrusions, 3–4 two-week threshold, 31–33 as emerging social reality, 17 by ex-partners, see ex-partners, stalking by; rejected stalkers as form of domestic violence, 12, 15–16, 58–59 of health professionals, see health professionals legal discourse, 5–6 motivations, 17, 61–63, 65 juvenile stalkers, 132 risk assessment and, 239–240 stalking of health professionals, 188, 191–193

popular discourse, 5 prevention, see preventive approaches of public figures, see celebrities; public figures scientific discourse, 5 social construction of, 11–17 consolidation, 16 diffusion, 14–16 discovery, 12–14 reification, 16–17 by strangers, 48–50 case example, 49–50 see also victims triggers, 244 see also stalkers stalking by proxy, 157–163 church, 160 family, 159 friends, 159 health professionals, 159–160 internet, 162 juveniles, 131–132 media, 161–162 motor vehicles, 161 ordering/cancelling goods and services, 158–159 private detectives, 157–158 case example, 158 psychics, 160–161 real-estate agents, 160 stalking risk profile, 238–249 legal and mental health context, 248–249 motivation of the stalker, 239–240 relationships in stalking, 238–239 stalker psychological and social functioning, 240–246 current clinical risk factors, 241–243, 246 future hazards, 243–246 historical risk factors, 240–241 victim psychological and social vulnerability, 246–248 Starr v. Eccles, 288 star stalking, 12, 50–51, 197 see also celebrities State v. Bryan, 288 STATIC 99, 228–229 strangers stalking by, 48–49 case example, 49–50 victim typology, 48–49

321

322

Index

stress reactions, 53–56 pharmacotherapies, 277–279 see also post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) substance abuse, 14, 70, 77 assessment, 255 management, 242, 256–257 violence and, 235, 242 support organisations, 267–268, 280 telephone harassment, 270–271 telephone scatologia, 114–115 case example, 114–115 terminating relationships, 263–264 threats, 39 female stalkers, 138, 139 to health professionals, 188 juvenile stalkers, 127 risk assessment, 233–234 same-gender stalkers, 146 Three Mile Island, 53–54 traumatic bonding, 56 case example, 56–57 Traumatic Constellation Identification Scale (TCIS), 55 two-week threshold, 31–32, 33 impact on severity, 32–33 prior relationship and, 33 risk of continued stalking and, 230 stalking behaviours and, 33 United Kingdom anti-stalking legislation, 286–287, 291, 292, 293 false victim study, 218–219 prevalence of stalking, 28–30 upskirting, 121–122 USA legislation, see anti-stalking laws prevalence of stalking, 24, 26–28 venlafaxine, 279 victims, 35–57 coping mechanisms, 56 cyberstalking, 155–156 female stalkers, 137 impact of stalking on, see impact of stalking juvenile stalkers, 134–135 management of, see management; reduction of the impact of stalking

psychological and social vulnerabilities, 246–248 current clinical factors, 247–248, 249 future hazards, 248, 249 historical factors, 247 same-gender stalkers, 149–150 support organisations, 267–268, 280 typology of, 46–53 case examples, 49–50 casual acquaintances, 47–48 estranged family and friends, 47 ex-intimates, 46–47 professional contacts, 48 public figures, 50–51 secondary victims, 51–52 strangers, 48–49 unknowns, 51 unusual victims, 52–53 workplace contacts, 48 victim studies, 35–46 same-gender stalking, 146 see also false victims; preventive approaches violence, 39 domestic violence, 12, 15 stalking as a form of, 12, 15–16, 58–59 female stalkers, 139 intimacy seekers, 84 juvenile stalkers, 127 non-psychotic stalkers, 60 predatory stalkers, 111 rejected stalkers, 75–76 risk assessment, 232–236, 237 availability of weapons, 235 demographic variables, 235 mental disorder, 234–235 prior offending, 235 prior relationship, 233 stalking risk profile, 238–249 substance abuse, 235 threats, 233–234 same-gender stalkers, 146 towards health professionals, 188–189 workplace, 172 see also homicide, workplace Violence Risk Appraisal Guide (VRAG), 228–229 voyeurism, 115–116 Wachtler, Sol, 22 Weaver, Richard C., 201

Index

women, changing roles of, 14 workplace stalking, 48, 172–183 case examples, 173, 174–177 external, 173 impact, 177–178 on organisation, 178 on primary victim, 177 on work environment, 177–178 internal, 173–174 management, 178–183

anti-stalking policy and programmes, 181–182 employers, managers and supervisors, 180–181 legal remedies, 182–183 stalker, 180 victims, 179–180 workplace practices, 273 see also health professionals Zeta-Jones, Catherine, 142

323