Criminal Psychology, Hans Gross [jenna bush book club .txt] 📗

reason it often happens that servants, and even the children of the house or other frequenters, take the robbery as an opportunity for explaining the disappearance of things they are responsible for or steal afresh and blame it upon “the thief.”

The quantity stolen is generally exaggerated, moreover, in order to excite universal sympathy and perhaps to invoke help. In general, we must hold that there is no psychological reason that a confessor should deny anything the confession of which can bring him no additional harm. The last point must be carefully treated, for it requires taking the attitude of the accused and not of the examiner.

It is the former’s information and viewpoint that must be studied, and it often contains the most perverted viewpoints; e. g., one man denies out of mere obstinacy because he believes that his guilt is increased by this or that fact. The proposition: who has stolen one thing, has also stolen the rest, has slight justification.

 

(c) If a denying fellow-criminal is accused by a confession, the interpretation of the latter becomes difficult. First of all, the pure kernel of the confession must be brought to light, and everything set aside that might serve to free the confessor and involve the other in guilt. This portion of the work is comparatively the easiest, inasmuch as it depends upon the circumstances of the crime. It is more difficult to determine what degree of crime the confessor attached to himself by accusing also the other man, because clearness can be reached in such a case only by working out the situation from beginning to end in two directions; first, by studying it without reference to the fellow-criminal, second, with such reference. The complete elimination of the additional circumstance is exceedingly troublesome because it requires the complete control of the material <p 113>

and because it is always psychologically difficult so to exclude an event already known in its development and inference as to be able to formulate a theory quite without reference to it.

 

If this is really accomplished and some positive fact is established in the self-accusation, the question becomes one of finding the value seen by the confessor in blaming himself together with his fellow.

Revenge, hatred, jealousy, envy, anger, suspicion, and other passions will be the forces in which this value will be found. One man brings his ancient comrade into jeopardy in revenge for the latter’s injustice in the division of the booty, or in deliberate anger at the commission of some dangerous stupidity in a burglary. Again, it often happens that he or she, through jealousy, accuses her or him in order that the other may be also imprisoned, and so not become disloyal. Business jealousy, again, is as influential as the attempt to prevent another from disposing of some hidden booty, or from carrying out by himself some robbery planned in partnership. These motives are not always easy to discover but are conceivable. There are also cases, not at all rare, in which the ordinary man is fully lacking in comprehension of “the substitute value,” which makes him confess the complicity of his fellow. I am going to offer just one example, and inasmuch as the persons concerned are long since dead, will, by way of exception, mention their names and the improbability of their stories. In 1879 an old man, Blasius Kern, was found one morning completely snowed over and with a serious wound in the head.

There was no possible suspicion of robbery as motive of the murder, inasmuch as the man was on his way home drunk, as usual, and it was supposed that he had fallen down and had smashed his skull.

In 1881 a young fellow, Peter Seyfried, came to court and announced that he had been hired by Blasius Kern’s daughter, Julia Hauck, and her husband August Hauck, to kill the old fellow, who had become unendurable through his love of drink and his endless quarrelsomeness; and accordingly he had done the deed. He had been promised an old pair of trousers and three gulden, but they had given him the trousers, not the money, and as all his attempts to collect payment had failed he divulged the secret of the Hauck people. When I asked him if he were unaware that he himself was subject to the law he said, “I don’t care; the others at least will also be punished;—why haven’t they kept their word.” And this lad was very stupid and microcephalic, but according to medico-legal opinion, capable of distinguishing between right and wrong.

His statements proved themselves true to the very last point.

<p 114>

 

So significantly weak as this in fundamental reliability, very few confessions will appear to be, but the reasons for confessions, difficult both to find and to judge, are many indeed. The only way to attain certainty is through complete and thoroughgoing knowledge of all the external conditions, but primarily through sound psychological insight into the nature of both the confessor and those he accuses. Evidently the first is by far the more important: what he is beneath the surface, his capacities, passions, intentions, and purposes, must all be settled if any decision is to be arrived at as to the advantage accruing to a man by the accusation of others.

For example, the passionate character of some persons may indicate beyond a doubt that they might find pleasure in suffering provided they could cause suffering to others at that price. Passion is almost always what impels men, and what passion in particular lies behind a confession will be revealed partly by the crime, partly by the relation of the criminals one to the other, partly by the personality of the new victim. If this passion was strong enough to deal, if I may use the term, anti-egoistically, it can be discovered only through the study of its possessor. It may be presupposed that everybody acts according to his own advantage—the question asks merely what this advantage is in the concrete, and whether he who seeks it, seeks it prudently. Even the satisfaction of revenge may be felt as an advantage if it is more pleasurable than the pain which follows confession—the matter is one of relative weight and is prudently sought as the substitution of an immediate and petty advantage for a later and greater one.

 

Another series of procedures is of importance in determining proof, where circumstances are denied which have no essential relation to the crime. They bring the presentation of proof into a bypath so that the essential problem of evidence is left behind. Then if the denied circumstance is established as a fact it is falsely supposed that the guilt is so established. And in this direction many mistakes are frequently made. There are two suggestive examples.

Some years ago there lived in Vienna a very pretty bachelor girl, a sales-person in a very respectable shop. One day she was found dead in her room. Inasmuch as the judicial investigation showed acute arsenic poisoning, and as a tumbler half full of sweetened water and a considerable quantity of finely powdered arsenic was found on her table, these two conditions were naturally correlated.

From the neighbors it was learned that the dead girl had for some time been intimate with an unknown gentleman who visited her <p 115>

frequently, but whose presence was kept as secret as possible by both. This gentleman, it was said, had called on the girl on the evening before her death. The police inferred that the man was a very rich merchant, residing in a rather distant region, who lived peaceably with his much older wife and therefore kept his illicit relations with the girl secret. It was further established at the autopsy that the girl was pregnant, and so the theory was formed that the merchant had poisoned his mistress and in the examination this deed was set down against him. Now, if the man had immediately confessed that he knew the dead girl, and stood in intimate relation with her and that he had called on her the last evening; if he had asserted perhaps that she was in despair about her condition, had quarreled with him and had spoken of suicide, etc., then suicide would unconditionally have had to be the verdict. In any event, he never could have been accused, inasmuch as there was no additional evidence of poisoning. But the man conceived the unfortunate notion of denying that he knew the dead girl or had any relations with her, or that he had ever, even on that last evening, called on her. He did this clearly because he did not want to confess a culpable relation to public opinion, especially to his wife. And the whole question turned upon this denied circumstance.

The problem of evidence was no longer, “Has he killed her,” but “Did he carry on an intimacy with her.” Then it was proved beyond reasonable doubt through a long series of witnesses that his visits to the girl were frequent, that he had been there on the evening before her death, and that there could be no possible doubt as to his identity. That settled his fate and he was sentenced to death. If we consider the case psychologically we have to grant that his denial of having been present might have for motive as much the fact that he had poisoned the girl, as that he did not want to admit the relation at the beginning. Later on, when he completely understood the seriousness of his situation, he thought a change of front too daring and hoped to get on better by sticking to his story. Now, as we have seen, what was proved was the fact that he knew and visited the girl; what he was sentenced for was the murder of the girl.

 

A similar case, particularly instructive in its development, and especially interesting because of the significant study (of the suggestibility of witnesses) of Dr. Von Schrenck-Notzing and Prof.

Grashey, kept the whole of Munich in excitement some years ago.

A widow, her grown-up daughter, and an old servant were stifled <p 116>

and robbed in their home. The suspicion of the crime fell upon a brick-layer who had once before made a confession concerning another murder and of whom it was known that some time before the deed was done he had been building a closet into the house of the three murdered women. Through various combinations of the facts the supposition was reached that the mason got entry into the house on the pretense of examining whether or not the work he had done on the closet had caused any damage, and had then committed the thieving murder.

Now here again, if the mason had said: “Yes, I was without a job, wanted to get work, entered the house under the assigned pretense, and appeared to see about the closet and had myself paid for the apparently repaired improvement, left the three women unharmed, and they must only after that have been killed,”—if he had said this, his condemnation would have been impossible, for all the other testimony was of subordinate importance. Now suppose the man was innocent, what could he have thought: “I have already been examined once in a murder case, I found myself in financial difficulties, I still am in such difficulties—if I admit that I was at the place of the crime at the time the crime was committed, I will get into serious trouble, which I won’t, if I deny my presence.” So he really denied having been in the house or in the street for some time, and inasmuch as this was shown by many witnesses to be untrue, his presence at the place where the crime was committed was identified with the unproved fact that he had committed it, and he was condemned.

 

I do not assert that either