The Original Mindhunters

Source: CreateSpace

Those who’ve watched the Netflix series Mindhunter might think that the two FBI agents on which the main characters are based had started the famed Behavioral Science Unit. In fact, the BSU began several years before those agents had even joined.

Howard Teten, the BSU’s founder, has not penned his own book, but his teammate, Patrick Mullany has. In 2015, he self-published his memoir, Matador of Murder: An FBI Agent’s Journey in Understanding the Criminal Mind, following a failed attempt years ago to publish a book chapter on a case for which they’d devised the first profile. You’ll find that chapter in his memoir, complete with interview transcripts. Mullany published just in time, as he died in 2016.

His part in the development of criminal profiling has been mere background in many of the profiler books. Here was his chance to provide more about his role, but the majority of his memoir is about functions other than profiling. Aside from the few cases he includes in this book, his involvement remains fuzzy. With his master's degree in psychology, I was hoping for more detail about how he'd brought psychological factors into crime scene analysis.

After a detailed introduction to his background as a Christian Brother and the difficult years in 1960s American culture, he describes his experience in the BSU with Teten. In their course, Teten would present the crime, while Mullany supplied the likely mental disorder involved. Teten would then discuss the offender’s characteristics. This became a core course for the newly formed BSU, and it was eventually renamed Psychological Profiling.

Mullany acknowledges psychiatrists who’d offered profiles before the BSU was formed, but he fails to include the pathologists and magistrates who’d devised profiles much earlier – well before the FBI was conceived. As part of BSU history, though, Mullany names the early core group and describes their contributions. He also tells the story of the first FBI profile, which he created with Howard Teten and Robert Ressler.

In June 1974, seven-year-old Susan Jaeger was snatched during a family camping trip in Montana. Her abductor sliced through the tent fabric and grabbed her. The Jaegers were devastated, but the site yielded nothing to help with leads. When no ransom demand arrived, local investigators called the F.B.I.

The BSU agents worked up a profile of the type of person who might be responsible. They believed that he was a local Caucasian male, operating alone, who’d spotted an opportunity when he saw the girl. It was likely that he’d taken Susan to kill her and that he might brag about it to someone. He’d also collect trophies.

An anonymous caller suggested David Meirhofer, a twenty-three-year-old Vietnam veteran, but those who knew him (including the cops) insisted this wasn’t possible. He was polite, articulate and helpful. But months later, a young woman associated with Meirhofer disappeared and fragments of her burnt remains were discovered in a barrel. Under the influence of truth serum, Meirhofer denied having any role. This seemed to eliminate him as a suspect.

Nevertheless, Mullany, Ressler and Teten were convinced that he was a cold-hearted psychopath who could dupe people and lie easily. Certain he'd initiate contact, they urged the Jaegers to keep a tape recorder by their phone. On the first anniversary of the abduction, a man called to talk about Susan. Mullany encouraged Mrs. Jaeger to return to Montana and confront Meirhofer. She did so. Subsequent events led to a search of his home, which turned up body parts from both victims, as predicted. Before Meirhofer committed suicide, he admitted to the two murders associated with him and added two more.

This case demonstrated that profilers who were experienced with the range of criminal types and behavior had a broader perspective than local investigators. They knew that "nice guys" could also be stone-cold killers. Yet Mullany and Teten were also aware that behavioral profiling could easily be mishandled.

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Mullany describes the method’s inherent danger – offering poorly crafted profiles to news coverage during ongoing incidents and investigations. He watched in dismay as media erroneously presented “gross speculation” based on little information as professional behavioral profiling. Whenever the analysis missed the mark, the FBI came under fire, even though the agency had offered no statements. No one checked when some media consultants lied about their associations with the FBI and/or their profiling expertise.

Shortcuts and pop psychology make for poor analysis. “Psychological profiling,” says Mullany, “is the systematic review of every element of a crime. It is best served when all of the material is present for review and sufficient time has elapsed to allow investigators to gather all the evidence possible.” It provides an investigative tool, he adds, but does not replace the detective (despite how it’s often portrayed).

In other chapters, Mullany shows how his work in profiling evolved into hostage negotiation. He was part of several operations and he studied what happens to victims in such situations. These chapters get bogged down at times, making the book read more like a textbook than a memoir.

Back to profiling, Mullany devotes a chapter to Angels of Death. Despite overturned convictions for the chief suspects, he describes how the FBI solved the Ann Arbor Hospital murders. Mullany insists that they had successfully identified the killers, but the courts screwed up, so this series of murders remains officially unsolved.

Profiling is a guide, not a science, Mullany writes. To do this job requires personal discipline, intellectual curiosity, and an “abundance of sensitivity” to human behavior. “The most difficult task for anyone who studies criminal behavior, especially the extreme form of criminal behavior found in murder, is to not have one’s focus narrowed to the point that good becomes imperceptible.”

For those who study historical criminology or are just curious about the early days of behavioral analysis in the FBI, Mullany’s memoir fills some holes.