The Crow Girl

‘Sorry,’ Victoria says. ‘Can we continue later? I think I need to get some rest.’


She falls asleep on the sofa. When she wakes up it’s still light outside, but the curtains are still, the light is paler and it’s quiet. The old woman is sitting in her armchair, knitting.

Victoria asks the therapist about Solace. Is she real? The old woman says she might be an adoption, but what does she mean by that?

Hannah and Jessica definitely exist, they were in her class in Sigtuna, but they are also inside her as the Worker, the Analyst and Moaning Minnie.

Solace is also real, but she’s a girl who lives in Freetown in Sierra Leone, and her real name is something different. But Solace Manuti is inside Victoria, and she’s the Helper.

She herself is the Reptile, who only does what it wants, and the Sleepwalker, who watches life pass by without doing anything about it. The Reptile eats and sleeps, and the Sleepwalker stands outside and watches what the other parts of Victoria are doing, without intervening. The Sleepwalker is the one she likes least, but simultaneously she knows that it’s the one with the greatest chance of survival, and it’s this part that she must cultivate. The others need to be removed.

Then there’s Crow Girl, and Victoria knows it isn’t possible to remove that part of herself.

Crow Girl can’t be controlled.



On Monday they go into Nacka. The therapist has arranged for a medical examination to ascertain whether Victoria was subjected to sexual abuse as a child. She has no desire to report her father, but the therapist says it’s likely that the doctor will file a report with the police.

She’ll probably also be referred to the forensic medicine unit in Solna for a more thorough examination.

Victoria has explained to the woman why she doesn’t want to report anything to the police. She regards Bengt Bergman as dead, and she wouldn’t be able to face seeing him during a trial. Her desire to have her injuries documented has other motivations.

She wants to start again, get a new identity, a new name and a new life.

The therapist says she can have a new identity if the justifications are sufficiently strong. That’s why they have to go to the hospital.

As they pull into the car park of Nacka Hospital, Victoria has already begun to plan her new future.

The previous future never existed, because Bengt Bergman took it from her.

But now she is going to get a chance to begin again. She’s going to get a new name and a confidential ID number. She’s going to be good, get an education and find a job in a different city.

She’s going to earn money and take care of herself, maybe get married and have children.

Be normal, like everyone else.





Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House


GAMLA ENSKEDE IS dark, and almost silent, just a few youngsters out on the road. Through the thin, leafless, fairly tragic honeysuckle hedge a blue-grey light shines in from the neighbours’ living-room window, indicating that they, like most other people at this time, are watching television.

Jeanette gets up, goes over to the window and lowers the blinds, turns round and sits down next to Sofia.

She sits quietly and waits. It’s up to Sofia to decide if they’re going to continue talking about work or move on to more private matters.

Sofia reminds Jeanette about the perpetrator profile. ‘Shall we take a look at it?’ she asks. Sofia leans over the edge of the sofa and takes a notepad out of her bag.

‘OK,’ Jeanette replies, disappointed that Sofia has chosen to go on talking about work.

But it’s not that late, she thinks. And Johan’s spending the night somewhere else. We’ve got plenty of time.

‘There’s a lot to suggest that we’re dealing with a person who fulfils the requirements for borderline diagnosis.’ Sofia leafs through her pad. ‘This is someone who thinks in terms of either/or, where he’s divided the whole world into black and white. Good and evil. Friends and enemies.’

‘You mean people who aren’t his friends automatically become his enemies? A bit like George W. Bush said before he invaded Iraq?’ Jeanette smiles.

‘Something like that,’ Sofia replies, smiling back.

‘Can you say anything about the fact that the murders were so brutal?’

‘It’s a matter of seeing the act, well, the murder, as a language of its own. An expression of something.’

‘Oh?’ Jeanette thinks about what she’s seen.

‘So, the perpetrator is staging his own internal drama outside of himself, and we have to work out what this person is trying to say. To start with, I think the murders were planned.’

‘I’m convinced of that as well.’

‘But at the same time, the excessive violence suggests that the murders were committed in a temporary outburst of fury.’

‘So what might this be about, then? Power?’

‘Absolutely. A strong need to dominate and have total control over another person. The victims have been carefully selected, yet seem simultaneously random. Young boys with no identities.’

‘It seems so sadistic. What can you say about that?’

‘That the murderer enjoys seeing the victim’s impotence and helplessness. Maybe it’s even an erotic feeling for him. A genuine sadist can’t experience sexual pleasure any other way. Sometimes their victim is held captive and the abuse goes on for a long time. It’s not unusual for such abuse to end in murder. These acts are usually carefully planned, and not the result of a fit of rage that’s come out of nowhere.’

‘But why so much violence?’

‘As I said, some perpetrators take satisfaction from inflicting pain. It may be a necessary form of foreplay leading to other types of sexual expression.’

‘And the embalming of the boy we found at Danvikstull?’

‘I think that was an experiment. A whim, almost.’

‘But what could have made someone turn out like that?’

‘There are as many different answers to that question as there are perpetrators, and psychologists, too, for that matter. And now I’m talking in general terms, rather than specifically about the immigrant boys.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think this sort of behaviour arises from early disturbances during the development of the personality, as a result of physical and mental abuse.’

‘So the victim becomes a perpetrator?’

Erik Axl Sund, Neil Smith's books