Book: Talking with Psychopaths and Savages: Beyond Evil
Author: Christopher Berry-Dee (investigative journalist and true crime writer, known for face-to-face interviews with convicted murderers)
In one line: Psychopathy is not madness and not simply wickedness - it is a stable pattern of shallow emotion, easy charm and absent conscience, and the people who have it are far better at performing normality than most of us are at detecting it.
Psychopathy is not psychosis. The psychotic offender has lost contact with reality; the psychopathic one understands reality perfectly and simply does not care. Knowing right from wrong is intact. What is missing is the emotional brake that makes the knowledge matter.
2 · The mask is the method
Charm, confidence and fluent talk are not the opposite of the disorder, they are part of it. Berry-Dee’s interviews keep landing on the same discovery: the pleasant, cooperative person across the table is running an impression, and the performance is the most reliable symptom in the room.
3 · A spectrum, not a species
Traits sit on a continuum, and high scorers are not confined to prisons. The same coldness plus charm can prosper in business, politics and institutions, where it reads as decisiveness. Most people scoring high never harm anyone - which is exactly why the label explains less than it seems to.
The book’s central argument is a definitional one, and it is worth getting right because almost every popular use of the word gets it wrong. Psychopathy describes a durable personality structure: superficial charm, grandiose self-worth, pathological lying, manipulativeness, shallow affect, callousness, impulsivity and an absence of guilt. It is not a psychosis, so it is not hallucination or delusion, and it is not an insanity defence. It is also not a synonym for criminality: most people in prison are not psychopathic, and many people with strong psychopathic traits never see a courtroom. Berry-Dee’s interest sits in the narrow overlap where these traits meet opportunity and a taste for control, and produce sustained predation on other people.
His second argument is about detection, and it is the one the interviews actually earn. Sitting opposite these men and women, he finds not monsters who announce themselves but skilled social operators who mirror the interviewer, flatter, offer cooperation, and steer the conversation toward a version of events in which they were provoked, misunderstood, or themselves victims. The narrative is always being edited. Remorse, when it appears, tends to arrive precisely where remorse is useful - before a parole board, in a letter to a journalist, in front of a camera - and evaporates when it costs something. The practical lesson is uncomfortable: our normal social instincts, which read confidence as honesty and tears as feeling, are exactly the instincts such a presentation is built to farm.
Most of the analytical weight rests on how such an assessment is actually made, and on why it cannot be made from a headline or a prison letter. The reference instrument is Robert Hare’s Psychopathy Checklist (the PCL-R), which scores around twenty traits and behaviours, each rated roughly as absent, partial or present, and combined into a total read against a threshold. Crucially it is not a questionnaire the subject fills in - a person who lies fluently would simply lie - but a structured judgement built from a long interview plus corroborating file evidence: convictions, employment, relationships, school history, earlier assessments. Where the story and the file disagree, the file wins.
The items fall into two recognisable halves, and the interview material illustrates both.
Cluster
What it looks like
What the interviews show
Interpersonal and affective
Glibness, superficial charm, grandiosity, pathological lying, conning, shallow emotion, no empathy, no remorse, responsibility refused
The polished, likeable presentation; a sudden flatness when the subject turns to harm done; blame relocated onto victims, police, parents or the system
Lifestyle and antisocial
Impulsivity, need for stimulation, parasitic living, poor behavioural control, early behaviour problems, many short-lived relationships, release revoked
The chaotic biography behind the smooth talk; a record that contradicts the self-portrait almost line by line
Two recurring cases carry the analytical point without needing any detail of the crimes themselves. Kenneth Bianchi presented as a second personality under hypnosis, a performance that collapsed once specialists tested it properly - a clean demonstration that malingering is common and that assessment has to be sceptical rather than trusting. Arthur Shawcross was released part-way through a sentence and went on to kill again, which Berry-Dee uses as his standing indictment of parole judgement, of the weight given to good behaviour inside an institution, and of treatment programmes that may teach an articulate offender the vocabulary of insight rather than the thing itself.
The distinction the book insists on. Psychosis involves broken contact with reality and can reduce responsibility; psychopathy involves intact reality testing with hollow emotion behind it. Blurring them muddies both the courtroom and public argument, and lets the word float free as a synonym for evil.
The Hare checklist
A structured clinical instrument, roughly twenty items, scored from interview plus verified file history and summed against a cut-off. It is a tool for trained assessors, not a personality quiz, and its power comes from checking claims against records rather than from anything the subject volunteers.
Charm as an instrument
Superficial charm is not a redeeming feature sitting oddly next to the offence. It is functional: it opens doors, disarms suspicion, recruits allies and secures access. The book returns repeatedly to how ordinary and even agreeable these encounters felt in the moment.
Grandiosity and lying
An inflated self-image is maintained by continuous, low-stakes fabrication, told without discomfort and revised without embarrassment when contradicted. Because the lying is not anxious, the cues we usually watch for are simply not present.
Manufactured remorse
Expressions of regret cluster around the moments where regret pays. The book treats confessions, apologies and jailhouse conversions as claims to be tested against later behaviour, not as evidence of change - a caution that reaches far beyond criminal justice.
Rewriting the story
Offenders present themselves as reacting rather than choosing: provoked, abused, framed, unlucky, misread. Berry-Dee’s method is to let the account run at length and then set it against the file, where the shape of the edit becomes visible.
Nature against nurture
Neither side wins. The book surveys temperament, early emotional deficits and possible neurological differences alongside grim childhoods, and notes that the overwhelming majority of people with terrible childhoods harm no one. It settles for interaction, and refuses the tidy single explanation.
Psychopaths without crimes
The traits appear in workplaces, boardrooms, hospitals, politics and public life, where nerve and shallowness can be mistaken for leadership. This is the book’s broadest claim and the most useful one for a lay reader, since it is the version most people will actually meet.
Scepticism about the system
Berry-Dee doubts that such offenders can be rehabilitated, and is harder still on parole boards, risk assessments and therapy that rewards articulate compliance. The critique is polemical rather than evidential, but it lands on a genuine weakness.
It is built as a loose sequence of case studies rather than a linear argument. The early chapters set out the vocabulary: what psychopathy means, how it differs from psychosis and from ordinary crime, and how instruments such as the Hare checklist are meant to work. The middle is the bulk of the book - individual offenders, their backgrounds, their correspondence and the author’s own encounters with them, each chosen to illustrate one facet of the pattern rather than to tell a complete crime story. Woven through are the author’s asides on causation, on the failures of parole and treatment, and on the media appetite that turns killers into celebrities. It closes by widening the lens to psychopathic traits in ordinary institutional life, which is where a reader is most likely to encounter them.
Separate the label from the behaviour. Stop using psychopath as an insult for anyone cold or cruel. Ask instead which specific behaviours you are seeing - repeated lying, no discomfort at causing harm, charm switched on only when something is wanted - and describe those.
Watch what the charm is for. Warmth that arrives fast, aims precisely at your vanity, and appears whenever access, money or trust is at stake is doing a job. Note its timing rather than its temperature.
Check the record, not the story. Before extending trust that costs you something, look for something verifiable: references, past relationships, what previous colleagues actually say. A story is free to produce; a history is not.
Discount apologies that cost nothing. Treat remorse offered under pressure, or in front of an audience that can grant something, as unproven. The test is what changes afterwards, repeatedly, when nobody is watching.
Notice who keeps ending up blamed. A consistent pattern in which every past conflict was somebody else’s fault is far more informative than any single account, however plausible each one sounds on its own.
Read true crime critically. Ask who is talking, what they gain by talking, what the author could actually verify, and whether the victims and their families would recognise the account. Interview access is not evidence.
Refuse the armchair diagnosis. You can protect yourself from a pattern of behaviour without assigning a clinical label to a person. Diagnosis needs training, records and time; you need only a decision about how much of yourself to hand over.