‘Yes. Usually the perpetrator has grown up under extremely authoritarian circumstances with elements of violence, where the mother has been passive and submissive. As a child he might have lived under the constant threat of divorce and felt responsible for that. He learned to lie at an early age to avoid beatings, has had to intervene to protect one parent, or has had to take care of one parent in degrading situations. He had to be that parent’s comforter instead of himself being comforted. He might have witnessed dramatic attempts at suicide. He probably started fighting, drinking and stealing at an early age, without this getting any reaction from adults. In short, he has always felt unwanted and basically like a problem.’
‘So you think the perpetrator had a terrible childhood?’
‘I think what Alice Miller thinks.’
‘Who?’
‘She was a psychologist who said it was utterly impossible for someone who grew up in an environment of honesty, respect and warmth to ever want to torment anyone weaker and harm them for life.’
‘There’s something in that. But I’m not entirely convinced.’
‘No, sometimes I doubt it. There’s a proven link between excess production of male sex hormones and an inclination to commit sexual assaults. You can also regard physical and sexual violence against women and children as a way for a man to construct his masculinity. Through violence the man acquires the power and control that society’s traditional gender and power structures suggest are his right.’
‘I see.’
‘And there’s a connection between social norms and degrees of perversion that, in basic terms, suggests that the more double standards there are in a society, the more likely this sort of boundary transgression is.’
Jeanette feels like she’s talking to an encyclopedia.
Cold facts and crystal-clear explanations piled on top of one another.
‘OK, while we’re talking generally about this sort of perpetrator, can we go back to Karl and Linnea Lundstr?m?’ Jeanette says. ‘Can someone who has been subjected to sexual abuse in childhood have no memory of it at all?’
Sofia takes time to consider this. ‘Yes. Both clinical practice and memory research support the idea that very traumatic events during childhood can be stored but are not accessible. Problems arise if those types of memories lead to police investigations, because it has to be proved that the alleged assaults actually took place. We can’t ignore the possibility that an innocent man might be accused and possibly convicted for an act of this sort.’
Jeanette is starting to pick up the pace, and already has her next question formulated. ‘And can a child in an interview situation be steered to talk about sexual abuse that never actually happened?’
Sofia gives her a serious look. ‘Sometimes children have trouble with the concept of time, such as when or how often something occurred. They often think that grown-ups already know everything they might have to say, and are more inclined to omit sexual details than place particular stress on them. Our memories are intimately connected to our perceptions. In other words, what we see, hear and feel.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
‘One clinical example is a teenage girl who smells her boyfriend’s semen and realises that this isn’t the first time she’s encountered that smell. And that instigates a process through which she comes to remember her father’s abuse of her.’
‘So how do you explain why Karl Lundstr?m became a paedophile?’
‘For some individuals, other people have no emotional reality. They know about the concept of empathy, but it has no qualitative meaning. And people who function that way can be capable of doing terrible things.’
‘But how could he have hidden it?’
‘In an incestuous family, the boundaries between adults and children are unclear and hazy. All needs are satisfied within the family. The daughter often switches roles with the mother, and might replace her in the kitchen, for instance, but also in bed. The family does everything together, and from the outside looks like the ideal family. But the internal dynamics are severely disturbed and the child has to satisfy its parents’ needs. The child often takes more responsibility for its parents than the other way round. The family exists in isolation, even though it might have a superficial social life. To escape scrutiny the family will move to another place every so often. Karl Lundstr?m was probably a victim himself. And, as Miller says, it’s tragic if you hit your own children to avoid having to think about what your own parents did.’
‘What do you think’s going to happen to Linnea?’
‘More than fifty per cent of women who suffer incest try to commit suicide, often in their teens.’
‘That reminds me of the quote “There are many ways to cry: noisily, quietly, or not at all”.’
‘Who said that?’
‘I don’t remember …’
A welcome silence follows.
Jeanette can feel the heavy subject matter becoming too much for her. She could do with a good laugh, a really good laugh that would chase out the images of raped and abused children.
She refills their glasses and takes the initiative to change the subject. ‘How do you cry? Quietly, noisily or not at all?’
Sofia smiles gently. ‘It depends on the situation. Sometimes noisily, and sometimes not at all.’
‘And how do you laugh?’
‘Pretty much the same way, I suppose.’
Jeanette isn’t sure how to continue. ‘Do you …’ she begins, but doesn’t get any further.
Why am I hesitating? she thinks. After all, I know just what I need right now.
Human warmth.
‘Hold me,’ she says eventually.
Without Jeanette noticing, Sofia has put her arm around her, and as Sofia leans over and kisses her it feels like a natural extension of the embrace.
It isn’t a long kiss.
But it makes Jeanette giddy. As if all the wine they’ve drunk during the evening has gone to her head in the space of five seconds.
She wants more. She wants to experience the whole of Sofia.
But something tells her they ought to wait.
Their lips separate, and she strokes Sofia’s cheek.
That’s enough.
For the moment, at least.
Kronoberg – Police Headquarters
STOCKHOLM’S IMPLACABLE WINTER is hostile and windy; the cold creeps in everywhere and is almost impossible to defend against.
During the six months of winter it’s dark when the citizens wake up and go to work, and it’s dark in the evening when they head home again. For months people live their lives in a dense, suffocating shortage of natural light while they wait for the release of spring. They shut themselves off, withdrawing into their own private worlds, avoiding unnecessary eye contact with their fellows and shutting out the world around them with the help of iPods, MP3 players and mobile phones. Down in the metro there’s a scary silence, and every disruptive noise or loud conversation is met with hostile glares or stern comments. For outsiders, Stockholm is a place where not even the sun has enough energy to penetrate the steel-grey sky and, if only for an hour or so, shine down on the godforsaken inhabitants.