Ted Bundy - Pathology

Pathology

Bundy underwent multiple psychiatric examinations; the experts' conclusions varied. Dorothy Otnow Lewis, Professor of Psychiatry at the New York University School of Medicine and an authority on violent behavior, initially made a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, but later changed her impression more than once. Some evidence supported a diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder: A great-aunt witnessed an episode during which Bundy "... seemed to turn into another, unrecognizable person ... suddenly, inexplicably found herself afraid of her favorite nephew as they waited together at a dusk-darkened train station. He had turned into a stranger." A prison official in Tallahassee described a similar transformation to Lewis: "He said, 'He became weird on me.' He did a metamorphosis, a body and facial change, and he felt there was an odor emitting from him. He said, 'Almost a complete change of personality ... that was the day I was afraid of him.' "

While other experts found Bundy's precise diagnosis equally elusive, the majority of evidence pointed away from bipolar disorder or other psychoses, and toward antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). Such people (identified at that time as "sociopaths", and prior to that as "psychopaths") are outwardly charming, even charismatic; but beneath the facade there is little true personality or genuine insight. "It's like ... a storefront that's attractive and lures you in," a DES co-worker told Michaud. But ... inside ... the merchandise is sparse." Most sociopaths can distinguish right from wrong and are not psychotic, but such ability has minimal effect on their behavior. They are devoid of feelings of guilt or remorse, a point readily admitted by Bundy himself. "Guilt doesn't solve anything, really," he said in 1981. "It hurts you ... I guess I am in the enviable position of not having to deal with guilt." Other hallmarks include narcissism, poor judgment, and manipulative behavior. "Sociopaths," prosecutor George Dekle wrote, "are egotistical manipulators who think they can con anybody." "Sometimes he manipulates even me," admitted one psychiatrist.

The afternoon before he was executed, Bundy granted an interview to Dr. James Dobson, a psychologist and founder of the Christian evangelical organization Focus on the Family. He used the opportunity to make new statements about violence in the media and the pornographic "roots" of his crimes. "It happened in stages, gradually," he said. "My experience with ... pornography that deals on a violent level with sexuality, is once you become addicted to it ... I would keep looking for more potent, more explicit, more graphic kinds of material. Until you reach a point where the pornography only goes so far ... where you begin to wonder if maybe actually doing it would give that which is beyond just reading it or looking at it." Violence in the media, he said, "particularly sexualized violence," sent boys "down the road to being Ted Bundys." The FBI, he suggested, should stake out adult movie houses, and follow the patrons as they left. "You are going to kill me," he said, "and that will protect society from me. But out there are many, many more people who are addicted to pornography, and you are doing nothing about that."

Researchers generally agree that Bundy's sudden condemnation of pornography was one last manipulative attempt to forestall his execution by catering to Dobson's agenda as a longtime anti-pornography advocate, telling him precisely what he wanted to hear. While he asserted in the Dobson interview that detective magazines and other reading material had "corrupted" him and "fueled fantasies ... to the point of becoming a serial killer", in a 1977 letter to Ann Rule he said, "Who in the world reads these publications? ... I have never purchased such a magazine, and two or three occasions have I ever picked one up." He also told Michaud and Aynsworth in 1980, and Hagmaier the night before he spoke to Dobson, that pornography played a negligible role in his development as a serial killer. "The problem wasn't pornography," wrote Dekle. "The problem was Bundy."

Rule and Aynesworth both noted that, for Bundy, the fault always lay with someone or something else. While he eventually confessed to 30 murders, he never accepted responsibility for any of them, even when offered that opportunity prior to the Chi Omega trial—which would have averted the death penalty. He deflected blame onto a wide variety of scapegoats, including his abusive grandfather, the absence of his biological father, the concealment of his true parentage, alcohol, the media, the police (whom he accused of planting evidence), "society" in general, violence on television, and ultimately, true crime periodicals and pornography. He blamed television programming—which he watched mostly on sets that he had stolen—for "brainwashing" him into stealing credit cards. On at least one occasion he even tried to blame his victims: "I have known people who ... radiate vulnerability," he wrote in a 1977 letter to Kloepfer. "Their facial expressions say 'I am afraid of you.' These people invite abuse ... By expecting to be hurt, do they subtly encourage it?"

A significant element of delusion permeated his thinking: "Bundy was always surprised when anyone noticed that one of his victims was missing, because he imagined America to be a place where everyone is invisible except to themselves. And he was always astounded when people testified that they had seen him in incriminating places, because Bundy did not believe people noticed each other."

Blame shifting and outright denial were his principal defense mechanisms: "I don't know why everyone is out to get me," he complained to Lewis. "He really and truly did not have any sense of the enormity of what he had done," she said. "A long-term serial killer erects powerful barriers to his guilt," Keppel wrote, "walls of denial that can sometimes never be breached."