Of Genius and Gentility
Chapter 7
Their next case was local, which gave Reid a stay of execution regarding plane travel. But his injury still hampered him to a degree, as it kept him from visiting a crime scene.
Not that the locals would have known that. Because Hotch sent Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss up the long staircase to go inside the townhouse, "while Reid, JJ and I run the case from out here.'
Reid didn't really care if they were in public, and he didn't care if it was unmanly. He could have kissed Hotch for that subtle showing of patience and support. He'd begun to feel like he'd become a drain on the team, as he progressed through his physical therapy at snail-like speed.
"It's not your fault, Spence." JJ had been the only one he'd felt comfortable admitting it to. "I went to that appointment with you, remember? The doctor said it would take longer without stronger pain control. Something about the muscles still going into spasm, or something? Whatever. All I know is, it's not your fault, so please stop talking about yourself that way."
She'd been right about the reason it was taking so long. Non-narcotic pain relief was inadequate for his injury, and the resulting stiffness impeded his recovery. But, to Reid's mind, she was wrong about it not being his fault. He knew she saw it that way, the whole thing with Hankel. He even knew that she felt like a good part of it was her fault, and he loved her for that. But he didn't agree with her.
So he still felt awkward about the team having to make accommodations for him, even if Hotch tried to make it look like business as usual to local law enforcement. His distress was not lost on the most experienced profiler on the team, as he discovered at their next meeting together. This one took place over sandwiches in Rossi's office, as both men stayed late to read through drafts of a few new chapters.
"Take a look at these early ones, and tell me what you think. Remember, I'm supposed to be bringing a 'younger voice' to this new book. My editor thinks I need to start appealing to a new audience."
Reid, by now aware of the reason he'd been invited to help with the book, had a ready answer.
"I've been doing some research, and it's actually pretty fascinating. The linguistics of millennial speech have evolved more rapidly, and more drastically, than in any other time in the past five centuries."
"That's because of texting, right? Like 'LOL'?"
Proud of himself for knowing a little text-speak, hoping Reid wouldn't pick up that he'd just exhausted that knowledge.
"Not really. I mean, that's just a representation of three separate words. It's like creating an acronym for common speech. There's precedent for acronyms. But what we've seen happen with modern language is the misuse of nominalization."
"The misuse of what?"
"Nominalization. The turning of verbs into nouns."
Rossi was lost now. "Explain, please."
"Okay, here's an example. Have you ever heard the expression, 'the reveal'?"
"You mean like, on those home makeover shows?"
"I guess," said the young man, who watched only science-fiction DVDs. "I just remember hearing Garcia telling JJ about something, and that's what she called it. But, the thing is, 'reveal' is a verb. You can't have 'a reveal' or 'the reveal'. You can have a revelation, but not a reveal."
The author nodded. "Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. It's like when you have a 'fail', instead of a 'failure'."
"Exactly!" Reid was enthused about the common ground. "That's one of the phenomena of linguistic change. Another is the misuse of the process of expansion from a noun root to a verb that doesn't exist."
"Like?"
"Like 'conversate'. There's no such word. People use it because they think it stems from 'conversation' as a root word. But the thing is, they're wrong on both counts. The root form is actually the verb, or more precisely, the infinitive, 'to converse'."
"Ah," said Rossi, pushing back in his wheeled office chair. "Yes, that's definitely a pet peeve."
"Right, exactly! It drives me crazy."
Rossi began rocking in his chair. "Me as well. But, young Spencer, how does this help us? I mean…..do I have to write like that?"
Horror showed itself on Reid's face. "NO!" Then, realizing, "I mean… I can't tell you what to do, but…well, I wouldn't. Why not show them how it's supposed to be said? Shouldn't literature teach us something?"
Rossi harrumphed. "I don't know that anyone has ever accused any of my books of being 'literature'. But I get what you mean. I think I should continue to write in complete sentences, using words that are commonly recognized as such."
"Yes!"
"But I need to have a youthful perspective. I think that's what my editor really wants. I need to focus on the things that younger people care about."
Reid thought for a long moment, feeling the weight of responsibility to represent a generation he did not feel a part of.
"Maybe you should just write in the first person."
"Meaning?"
Reid shifted, thinking of how to phrase it. "Well, there is a certain cult of personality out there, right? People relating with people they don't really know, mostly via the internet. Sometimes, it makes them feel like they even know celebrities personally, because they can reach them directly through email or personal messages, things like that. If you write in the first person, they'll feel like you're telling each of them a story, they'll connect with you."
Rossi considered it. "So, instead of writing in the third person, as in 'this happened' or 'that happened', I should write as 'I did thus and such'?"
His young companion nodded. "Yes. I think it would make the reader relate with you personally, and that's what the millennial generation is all about. The world has become a smaller place, and everyone likes to feel like they are an immediate, integral, part of it."
The older man chewed on the end of his pen for a bit.
"Okay, I can do that. But I will still refuse to 'nominalize' inappropriately. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Okay, so tell me a story, in the first person."
"Me?!" The genius now suddenly self-conscious.
"Yes, you. What's the matter? You've been telling me about cases right along."
"But….they weren't for the book. I was just telling you."
"So, now you tell me, and I tell everybody else. What's the difference?"
"I…I don't…."
Rossi took pity on his young companion.
"Tell you what….let's go with a theme. You tell one, I tell one. Tell me about one that you can't let go of."
In retrospect, Rossi was surprised at how readily a case came to Reid's mind. Then, he realized he shouldn't have been.
"Adam."
"Adam?" Not quite placing the name.
"Adam….and Amanda."
Now it rang a bell.
"The DID case? In South Padre?"
Reid nodded. "Adam was a victim. Amanda was the one who committed those murders."
Rossi was familiar with the concept of dissociative identity disorder, but he'd never mastered the art of separating the person from the illness. To him, it didn't matter if it had been Adam or Amanda who'd committed the crimes. But he was intrigued that Reid could differentiate.
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"How do you generate sympathy for a serial killer?"
Reid put down the pencil he'd been twiddling.
"Adam isn't a serial killer. He's someone who was mistreated as a child, and who developed an alter personality because of it. Adam's alter committed those murders."
Rossi shook his head. "I get the idea that the other personality was behind the crimes. But the physical action was perpetrated by Adam's hands."
Reid corrected him. "The hands belong to both of them. Adam wasn't controlling them when they killed those people."
Rossi stared at his younger colleague for long enough to make Reid feel uncomfortable. The BAU founder had a natural inclination to condemn all those who committed such heinous crimes. But he'd long ago noticed that his younger companion didn't. And he wanted to understand. He needed to understand.
"I'm back to my original question. How do you do that?"
This time, Reid understood. "How do I separate the crime from the person who commits it?"
"Something like that, yes."
The young man shrugged. "I lived the whole of my childhood with someone who couldn't be held responsible for her actions. Mom had good days and bad. On her bad days, sometimes, she did bad things. Not murder, no!" Having seen Rossi's brows go up. "But things she regretted, later, when she had her moments of clarity. I saw her, Rossi. The real person. And I knew how much it hurt her to know what she'd done when she wasn't in control."
This wasn't the first time Rossi found himself wondering what Reid's childhood had really been like, nor would it prove to be the last. But, for all they'd shared to date, he still didn't feel comfortable probing. So he kept his remark neutral.
"Schizophrenia is different."
"Not that different. It's just another form of malfunction. Think about it. We found our identities on our thought processes. We are who we think we are. At the moment each of those murders was committed, the entity whose thought process was in control was Amanda. Adam was always an innocent."
"And you're still trying to save him?" He'd heard about Reid's visits to that particular psychiatric institution.
The younger man shrugged. "He needs to know that someone knows he's in there. That someone saw it, back then."
Rossi studied his teammate again. "How was it that you saw it? How did you recognize that there was an alter?"
Reid wasn't quite ready to share with Rossi about how his own life experience had taught him to recognize the process of DID in action. Not now, and maybe not ever. So he changed the subject.
"Weren't we talking about cases we couldn't let go of? Didn't you have one?"
Knowing full well that Rossi had, because the rest of the team had gotten involved in resolving it Without thinking, he pushed a little more.
"Wasn't that the thing that really brought you back to the BAU?"
Even as the words left his mouth, Reid couldn't believe he'd been so bold. But he'd been desperate not to talk about that thing that was still so hard to talk about, and the words had just slipped out.
"Whoa, there, young fella. What made you say that?"
The color of Reid's face matched the maroon stripe in Rossi's carpet.
"I just…..sorry. I just ….wasn't it? A case out in Indianapolis?"
"You weren't there." Not quite an admission, but….
"No, I was with Hotch, in Connecticut."
Rossi nodded. "Right. Chester Hardwick. He told me about that. He told me what you did."
The genius was surprised. "He did?"
"Yep. Said he was proud of you."
"He did?"
One more time, and it might qualify as a mantra.
"He did. Hotch said he was off his game, and you and your brain saved both of your behinds."
Reid remembered that day. He would never forget the fright of being isolated with an unrestrained serial killer, that was a given. But that wasn't the only reason the day stayed with him. It was the intimacy of Hotch sharing his personal distress that gave the day its staying power. Aaron Hotchner hadn't simply been his unit chief that day. He'd been Reid's friend, needing a shoulder to lean on. And it had been the first time Reid had felt like he'd had shoulders that strong.
"He'd been served….you know, with the papers from Haley. He didn't want the divorce, but he felt like he had already caused her enough pain."
"They still loved each other." Rossi corrected himself. "Forget the past tense. They do still love each other. And, one day, they'll figure that out."
"You think?"
"I know. You are talking to the master of divorce, remember? I know what it's like to love 'em and lose 'em, and what it's like to just completely fail at love altogether. Trust me. They'll find a way to make it back to one another."
"I hope so!" Remembering the distinctly sad demeanor of his unit chief on that particular day. "I hope Hotch will be happy again."
"As do I, young Spencer, as do I."
"So….about that case?"
The older man emitted a long sigh. "All right, if we must. This was a case where I failed a family of three kids, whose parents were killed right in front of them, on Christmas Eve, of all days."
Reid heard the recrimination in Rossi's voice, and felt a desire to protect the man from himself.
"How did you fail them?" His tone challenging the very idea of failure.
"I didn't catch the killer, obviously."
"But…we don't always catch the killer. That's how we study their behaviors, right? Because they kill again." Then, wondering, "Are you saying that you didn't catch him a prior time, and that's how you failed the children?"
The younger man seemed to be trying to make a point, but Rossi wasn't having it.
"No, we were only called in after these parents were killed. But I owed the kids justice, and I didn't deliver."
Though he'd spoken quietly, Rossi's tone had been filled with vehemence, and Reid knew he should tread lightly. So he lowered his voice to just above a whisper.
"Justice wouldn't have brought their parents back, Rossi. The only thing you could have done was to prevent a subsequent death. You couldn't have made life any better for them."
Rossi recognized the truth of it. The story had unfolded exactly as Reid described. The family in question had fallen apart, the children's lives in ruins. Rossi had stayed in touch with them, despite their wishes. He'd even provided a roof over their heads, though unknown by them.
But none of that kept them whole. And now my young friend here is telling me that none of their pain was because of me. If only I could believe that.
When Rossi remained silent, Reid continued. "But, even though you knew you couldn't change what had happened, you kept at it, right? You kept thinking about that case, and working it, in pieces…"
"A little at a time…" Clearly still lost in reverie.
"Until you found him. You didn't let go of the case, and you solved it."
"We solved it. Your colleagues took it upon themselves to come out and help me with it."
Reid was familiar with the story. He'd been a bit worried about JJ's job after that. Something about 'unauthorized use of the jet'. But, once they were all back in Quantico, Hotch had apparently read the relief in Rossi's features, and retroactively approved it as an official BAU case.
"Okay, so it took the team" acknowledged Reid. "But it was resolved. Or as resolved as any of our cases ever are."
"So it was. And it did seem to help the family a bit. Maybe it brought them a little closure."
Reminding Reid of a conversation he'd had with a long-grieving father, about the trial of his daughter's killer.
"There really is no such thing as closure. There's only a moving on. A feeling of becoming 'unstuck'."
The older man stared into the distance, his head rising and falling in a slow nod.
"Time begins again, and they can move forward. Maybe that's all I…we….really gave those kids." Thinking a moment longer, then issuing a guffaw. "Hmph! Maybe we were all stuck in time. I'd always thought of them as the kids they'd been that terrible night. But they're all adults now. Guess I couldn't move on, either."
"But you did, right? After you caught the killer?"
There was an urgency to the young man's voice, telling Rossi that the question wasn't as straightforward as it seemed. So he took his time crafting a response.
"I guess I did. But that doesn't mean there won't be another killing, or another family, that gets under my skin. It's a hazard of the job, Spencer. One I'd rather have, than not."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that, the only way not to fall into caring too much is to not care at all. And I've seen that happen to more people than I like to think about. It's not pretty. And I don't want it to happen to me."
Reid sat with the thought for a few moments. He'd spent many a sleepless night because of the work they did, and many an hour of daylight pondering. Adam's case wasn't the only one that had gotten to him. He could only wonder how many more there would be, before there had been too many. Still...
"I don't want it to happen to me, either."
The older man patted the younger on the back.
"Somehow, I don't think you'll have to worry about that."
