Craig Robertson - Random

Glasgow was full of fear. Could smell it from them. All their talk, all their gallusness meant nothing. All worried about their miserable little lives. Five fucking deaths and their front disappears like snow off a dyke. Could see the strain in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Smell it, see it, hear it, taste it, touch it.

Can’t make plans with all this Tennessee firewater in me. Drunk plans are bad plans. Need to do things right. Owe it to her to do it properly. Getting caught would blow everything. Shame her. Shame both of them. Can’t do that. Can’t have that.

Need control.

Put half glass of Jack aside. Not finishing that.

Rachel Narey is suspicious. Maybe she is just suspicious of everyone. Maybe half of Glasgow thinks she suspects them. They had nothing to hide though. Nothing to protect. She is getting a hard time on telly and in the papers. Scared people demanding answers. Police getting called for everything in taxis and on the street. Feel sorry for her. Not her fault. Their Cutter is too clever for them.

A wee bit more of the Jack. Just what’s in that glass though. No more after that.

Wonder what the cops really think. Must be saying lots they aren’t letting on to the press. Must have theories. Must have leads. Must be fucking furious that the piss is being taken out of them. Must be doing so much that I haven’t got a clue about.

Getting tired.

Sarah once said she wanted to be a policewoman. And a lawyer. And a pop star. And a nurse. And look after old people. She was really bright. And so kind. A warm heart.

She and her pals found some kittens in the river when she was about seven. Some farmer had tried to drown them in a sack. She took the two surviving ones from house to house for hours until she found a home for them. It didn’t matter how many times people said no, she just moved on to another house with big eyes and a soft sell until the cats had good homes.

Last drops of Jack clinging to the side of the glass. The rest deep inside me. No more.

Tired.

Just going to close my eyes for a second. Rest them. Need rest.

Sarah. Narey. Sinclair.

Traffic lights. Traffic jams.

Wallace Ogilvie. Ogilvie. Ogilvie.

Fighting back.

Car door slamming shut somewhere. Black dog barking.

So tired.

Is the light switched off in the hall?

So very tired.

The Daily Record. Wednesday, 25 March 2010. Page 1.

CLUELESS

‘CSI’ psychologist admits Cutter cops are baffled

EXCLUSIVE by Keith Imrie, Chief Reporter. The forensic psychologist assisting Strathclyde Police with The Cutter murders has admitted that the force have ‘no worthwhile leads’ in their hunt for the killer. Dr Paul Crabtree, a consultant on US drama CSI, said that officers were out of ideas and resorting to ‘hoping that something would turn up’. A week on from the vicious murder of Cutter victim number five, Inchinnan dentist Brian Sinclair, the revelation will be seen as a devastating blow to the police investigation. Criticism has continued to mount against the police as the hunt goes into its thirteenth month without any tangible success. There are believed to be deep rifts within the investigation team and there are widespread rumours of officers from an outside force being parachuted in to ‘assist’ with the case. Speaking exclusively to the Daily Record, Dr Crabtree gave a remarkable insight into the profile he has drawn up for officers as well as a depressing assessment of their progress. ‘I am firmly of the opinion that this killer is striking randomly and that there is no discernible pattern to either when or who he strikes,’ he said. ‘That makes him extremely dangerous and, by extension, extremely difficult to apprehend. However there are certain characteristics that we can confidently assign to him and these can form a basis of elimination as well as inclusion. ‘I believe that the killer is a man, aged between 18 to 50 and with his own car. He seems to have issues with men rather than women and may well have close ties to a female figure in his life, probably his mother. This has manifested itself in deep-rooted hatred of men and it may be that his significant female figure may have been significantly abused or hurt by a male figure. ‘It may be too that he has a grievance against the city of Glasgow and that is an avenue worth exploring. ‘He is also likely to have issues with authority as he seems to be taunting the police over their inability to catch him. He sees himself, quite wrongly of course, as omnipotent and far smarter than the police. Indeed I fear he is possessed of what we term Roman Emperor Syndrome, the quest in the killer for something even beyond omnipotent control, for the complete subjugation and slow destruction of others. ‘The sending of the victim’s finger to police is a clear indicator of his belief in his own invulnerability and his desire for publicity. He believes he is untouchable but moreover he wants everyone to know about his power. ‘These particular murders are unusual because they are crimes with no obvious indication or links as to why they would happen. In most cases there are clear connections but not in these. ‘I have to say that police are at the stage where they have exhausted all logical lines of possibility and are simply hoping that something will turn up or that the killer will make some fundamental mistake. There are no worthwhile leads and they are praying that one surfaces before he strikes again.’ Dr Crabtree, who was brought into the investigation after the third murder, that of Thomas Tierney, has been critical in the past of the force’s reluctance to use forensic profiling techniques. There have been persistent rumours of friction between Dr Crabtree and DS Rachel Narey, the officer in charge of the investigation. Sources suggest that the two have argued in front of other officers on many occasions with DS Narey openly critical of the psychologist’s assessments. It is thought that she disagrees with his opinion that there is no connection between the victims. While not confirming those suggestions, Dr Crabtree said that there had been some disagreements over strategy. ‘Differing members of an investigation team often take differing approaches,’ he said. ‘This is not unusual and may even be seen as constructive. It is important that everyone keeps an open mind on all avenues that may be conducive to bringing this case to an end.’

A time will come when a person will be declared insane when they believe that ‘I am he who is X, Y and Z, and X, Y and Z only.’

It’s a line from a book called The Dice Man by a guy calling himself Luke Rhinehart. It was a cult novel written at the height of the hippy revolution and featured free sex, rape and murder. The dust cover said it was subversive, controversial, and dangerous. Banned in several countries, it promised to change the reader’s life whether he liked it or not. It was about a bored psychiatrist who spiced things up by letting his entire life be ruled by the roll of the dice. No going back, no changing the rules, just follow the dice and let chance sweep away what he said were the illnesses of reason and seriousness created by modern society. It championed freedom over free will, chance over choice. It took away the moral or ethical responsibility that came with choice and replaced it with risk, variety and impermanence. You couldn’t be held accountable for something that happened at random and there was no point in worrying about the consequences of any action when the next throw of the dice took you in an unrelated direction.

It was of course a massive piss-take.

All that mattered though was the premise and the premise was simple. The dice decide. Or the die decides. Die is the singular of dice. Die, die, die. For my purposes, it was all rather neat. The die decides who dies. Homicidal tongue-twisters r us.