‘Amanda Doyle? What does her cover report say?’
‘Hold on a second, Kate.’ He put the phone down and she heard more rustling. ‘Right, here it is. Do you want me to read that word for word as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Amanda Doyle, thirty-eight years old, was reported missing on the twenty-first of April 2015, from her home in Scotts Lane, Greystones. Amanda is described as being five foot four, average build, with short blonde hair, fair complexion, and wears glasses. She was last seen on the day of her disappearance, wearing tight black jeans, a black leather jacket and a distinctive pink cotton scarf. Amanda was single and unemployed. Until her disappearance, she lived with her father, a widower. When Amanda failed to return home on the twentieth of April, her father became increasingly concerned and, in the missing-person report, stated that his daughter was reliable and always contacted home when she was away. He confirmed that their relationship had become more distant since the death of his wife, Amanda’s mother, six months earlier, and that they had had numerous arguments. Amanda had withdrawn her entire inheritance (received after the death of her mother) from her post-office account – sixty-two thousand euros. Her father said Amanda often suffered mood swings, one minute being very down, the next more upbeat. She had become something of a recluse prior to her departure, listening to what her father described as self-help type recordings, mainly in her bedroom. Amanda had a pay-as-you-go mobile phone, and the last time it was used was prior to her disappearance. Details were circulated via the PULSE database and the online site, Trace Missing Persons. Seventeen days after the missing person’s report was filed, Dermot Doyle received a letter from his daughter with a postmark from Courtown in Wexford.’
‘Do you have the letter there? Can you read it?’
‘I suppose, but I’ll want some answers at the end of all this, Kate.’
‘Sure, and I know you’re tight on time.’
‘Right, here it is.’ He cleared his throat.
‘
Dear Dad,Please do not worry about me. I’m in a good place and I’m happy. I hope you are not too lonely. I’ll come home as soon as I can, but I do not want you to fret. I know we have had our disagreements, and I understand now that it’s because you miss Mum, too.
I’ll try to write again as soon as I can.
Your loving daughter
,Amanda
’
‘What else is in the files, Adam?’
‘Statements from their friends and family, most repeating what’s in the cover report. Both cases have more references to some kind of self-enlightenment journey. The wording in each is slightly different, but as I said before, there’s a correlation between the unaccounted-for large sums of money and the O’Neill case.’
‘And as soon as Robert and Amanda made contact with their respective families, despite the missing money and the lack of information about their whereabouts, their disappearance was seen as a choice they’d made.’
‘It’s your turn, Kate. What are you thinking?’
‘I have another question for you.’ She sat up further on the couch, feeling a lot better than she had felt earlier on.
‘Go on.’
‘What did Robert Cotter work at?’
‘He was a plumber. The company he worked for closed, and he started up his own business. Why do you ask?’
‘How long ago?’
‘I hate it when you answer one question with another.’
‘Just answer me.’
‘It was about a year ago. He was doing well, according to his wife.’
‘But something substantial had changed in his life.’
‘What are you getting at, Kate?’
‘Amanda had lost her mother. Robert left his old job and started a new business. Michael O’Neill retired from teaching.’
‘But O’Neill didn’t say anything about being on a self-enlightenment journey.’
‘Maybe not, or not that we know of. The point is both Robert and Amanda were at a psychological junction sometimes referred to as “in between”.’
‘Meaning?’
‘They were in between different emotional and structured patterns in their lives, making them more …’
‘More what?’
‘Susceptible.’
‘Susceptible to what?’
‘Pretty much anything. It’s like their antennae were on high alert, and potentially, they could have been looking for new answers, seeking a different life pattern.’
‘So?’
‘The missing money is important, especially if there is an influencer, a common denominator that may or may not have affected their behaviour.’
‘You’re talking cult again.’
‘Yes, I guess I am.’
‘What makes someone join one of those nutcase groups?’
‘You don’t have to be mentally ill to be drawn into one, if that’s what you think.’
‘Go on.’
‘Nobody sets out to join a
cult
– people join a new religion, or they look to a cause. From the inside, the group can appear noble, inspirational, but then a line is crossed, and the group changes.’
‘From a regular group to a cult?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How does that happen? People aren’t stupid.’
‘No, Adam, they’re not. That is why cult leaders often use good intentions to draw people in. Once people feel part of something, they are then more vulnerable to further mind-altering points of view. To an extent, we’ve all been manipulated to believe certain
things, whether through advertising campaigns, media, key peer groups, or any other channel of information we deem worthy of being absorbed into.’
‘But surely a wacky cult is different.’
‘Not really. By and large, when people hear arguments that support their current ideals, the new information reinforces an accepted viewpoint. When there are dissenting voices, their minds turn away, shutting out the contradictory messages.’
‘So, what turns a group with good intentions into a cult?’
‘The group’s leader. Most fulfil at least eight of the nine characteristics of narcissism.’
‘Okay, I’m listening.’
It felt good to have her mind focused. ‘I thought you were in a hurry.’
‘I am, but this could be important.’
‘Okay, here it goes. The malignant narcissist has a desire to bring people down, in the same way that they feel they may have been brought down in the past. Many cult leaders have early experiences of abandonment, neglect and disappointment with parental and authority figures.’
‘And the nine characteristics of narcissism are?’
‘A grandiose or exaggerated sense of self-importance, an obsession with fantasies of extraordinary power and success, a belief that they are special and unique, only understood by others of their own elevated standing, of which, I might add, there are usually very few, if any. Also, they will have an intense need for admiration, along with a delusional sense of entitlement. He or she will feel that rules and normal standards don’t apply to them. Because of this, they will exploit others without remorse or guilt, alongside an absence of empathy. The latter is an almost universal trait with all narcissists. They’re so caught up in their own grandiose ideals that they pay no real attention to others in any genuine way. In the courting or initiation stages, they will fake empathy. They also have a tendency to be envious, choosing their targets carefully.
The targets may be people they are jealous of, someone with more money or power than them, or even someone who had a better start in life, perceived success, attractiveness, anything that warrants the narcissist’s attention. They will also have an extremely arrogant attitude, and will be judgemental and dismissive of others.’
‘Going with this cult idea for a second, let’s say, Kate, someone starts to smell a rat, and things aren’t what they initially thought they would be. It’s no longer the good-intentioned group they joined. What happens then?’
‘Because of the charismatic nature of the leader, most won’t see the cracks until very late. Some may question, but because they’re cemented in a belief that the cult or grouping was originally a good thing, and probably something they’ve invested an enormous amount of emotional and perhaps financial resources in, they will resist the belief that the group is more bad than good. They will look only for answers to reinforce all the positive elements. Walking away when you’ve invested so much isn’t easy, even if you see the cracks.’
‘The dissenters, what happens to them?’
‘Dissenting voices will be seen as a form of disobedience and punished.’
‘How?’
‘It depends. They might be ostracised by the group, although if it’s a location-based cult, other punishments could be applied.’
‘Like?’
‘Solitary confinement for one.’
‘Prison?’
‘Yeah – the group becomes like a family. The exclusion is used to discourage the member from challenging the group’s belief, but there have been other examples of coercion, the use of sedatives, mind-altering drugs or, even worse, death.’
‘And people stand by and let this kind of thing happen?’
‘As I said, many don’t see the cracks, or if they do, they’ll be in part-denial. Other ploys are used to assist the mind manipulation.
Confessional-type environments are commonplace. By confessing so-called sins or weaknesses to the group or to an individual within it, the cult gains emotional power over the person. They see the cult, their forgiveness and acceptance, as an extension of their core values, making it more difficult to break down the walls of misguided belief.’
‘I see. At least, I think I see.’
‘The cult or group is usually steered by a manipulative, charismatic and narcissistically driven individual, wanting to build their own sense of power and glory. It’s all a mask, or a series of masks, used to block out dissension and, for the most part, convince others that the choices they have made are their own.’
‘What drives these cult leaders? What’s the bottom line?’
‘Power, money, sex – all three motivations can be present.’
‘Fuelled by one person managing to get a hell of a lot of others to do what they want?’
‘Yes.’
‘I find that hard to believe. I mean, in today’s world, information is at everyone’s fingertips.’
‘Many believe we’re living in a more narcissistic age.’
‘It all sounds a bit fanatical to me.’
‘One man’s cult is another man’s religion or belief. Even in certain communes where child abuse takes place, the members of the cult don’t see themselves as criminals. They see themselves as followers of God or some other ideology.’
‘Crazy.’
‘Adam, one last thing, can you read Amanda Doyle’s letter again? There was something odd about it.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not sure. I want to write it down word for word.’ She walked into the study, picked up a pen from the small table under the window and opened one of the notebooks, suddenly feeling unsettled again that items had been moved. ‘Adam, are you still there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘Have you noticed anything being moved in the apartment?’
‘No, why?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s like the pen and notebook I can’t find. The things on the small table under the window in the study look like someone moved them.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Not one hundred per cent. The window was open and there was a strong breeze.’ She paused. ‘I might be mistaken.’
‘You sound tired again, Kate. Will you make that appointment with the doctor?’
‘It’s too late now. They’d be gone, and I’m fine, honest.’
‘So, do you want me to read Amanda Doyle’s letter again?’
The letter – she’d forgotten. There was something odd about it.
‘Kate, are you still there?’
‘Yes, sorry. Read it out and I’ll write it down.’
When he had done so, she stared at her own handwriting. What was it about the wording that was odd? Could it be possible? She’d have to check the second note again, to be sure.
‘Kate …’
‘Adam, there are similarities.’
‘Similarities to what?’
‘The note sent to the apartment.’ She looked up at the transcribed words on the page she had pinned to the wall, pulling it down, underlining certain words from both. ‘The writer of the note and the letter elides particular words and not others.
I’m
,
I’ll
, and
It’s
are used in each, and some of the words that are not elided are similar –
I hope you liked, I hope you are not lonely
, and
I have, we have
.’
‘I’m not getting you, Kate.’
‘People use elisions all the time, but there is a cross pattern here. In neither message does the writer elide
I have
or
we have
to
I’ve
or
we’ve
, and then there’s the repeat of the phrase, “I hope”, yet the elided words remain constant. Adam, I’m not a script expert, but I do know certain things about it.’
‘Like what?’