39.
25 years later.
~ When Julian was 20, older than Norman was when he started killing, his father finally told him everything. Everything he knew about his half brother, Norman Bates.
"Norman had a lot of problems. He needed treatment at a good place. Your mother suggested we get married." his father had explained. "So that Norman could have insurance to go to PineView. So he could get help."
Julian must have looked shocked because his father had laughed nervously. This was the first time he'd found out that his parents hadn't always been in love. That they hadn't dated and been romantic like normal people. That they hadn't gotten married because they were in love and wanted to be together.
"Your mother and I always had a very passionate relationship." he admitted shyly. "Even if we couldn't stand each other, we were still very passionate about it."
Julian hadn't doubted that. His father's eyes still lit up when his mother entered a room. His gaze still following her around as if interested and delighted at such a beautiful and terrifying creature. He looked at her like she was the only woman that had any power over him.
Julian had done research on Norman Bates since the arrests and pre-trial. Despite his parents wishes, he'd researched everything he could on his own from the age of ten up. He knew his brother was locked away at county mental hospital but wasn't receiving mail and no one was allowed to visit. He knew that he was found not mentally competent to stand trial and that had put him in a sort of legal limbo. He wasn't sane enough to defend himself or ever recognize that he'd committed the crimes. Yet, he couldn't be a free man. Not ever.
So he'd been locked away at a county psych ward and forgotten about.
His parents had explained to him that they could never make contact with Norman again because it was dangerous. Although Julian couldn't understand why. Norman was locked away wasn't he? He'd never get out. Not if the news reports were to be believed.
Even if he did get out, his father was the strongest man he knew. The videos and pictures of Norman Bates showed a graying, pale, weak looking man who was too thin and refused to make eye contact. Who seemed almost bullied by the guards walking him towards a police car. A man like that hardly looked dangerous.
He thought it was very sad that his mother and father had cut off all communication with Norman. He was still her son, the same as Julian, but she'd cut him totally out of her life. Left him alone in the world in favor of her new husband and new baby. Never speaking of her 'old son' or 'old life' again. As if she now had a 'do-over' and refused to speak the mistakes of the past.
Julian had to wonder if his father had pressured his mother into it. If he and Norman just hadn't gotten along and he'd forced the decision on her. If they had decided together to start over and forget her other, more problematic child.
On the surface, it had seemed a very selfish thing to do. It took years for Julian to think otherwise. To realize she'd done everything humanly possible to keep her son with her. To keep him in a good place and get him well. That she hadn't understood what was wrong with him and her natural instincts were to protect him from others knowing about him, rather than seek out help.
Yet, growing up, he felt an uneasy sense of guilt and slight prejudice against his mother and father for disowning her son. For removing him from their lives like an infected limb that couldn't be saved. Julian was the 'do-over child' the 'replacement child' and if his mother had so easily left Norman behind, couldn't she also leave him?
Julian started to read all about the psychology of dual personalities which his father had explained Norman bates was diagnosed with at first. He learned it was a mostly defunct diagnosis and patients had simply been acting for the doctors. It was possible Norman had a form of schizophrenia. That would explain him hearing voices and the violence he couldn't remember. Also, schizophrenia was a 'highly genetic' disorder now thought to be passed on from the mother's side of the genetic makeup. According to Julian's research the disorder it affected more males than females, manifested during the teen years and he was just as likely to be afflicted as Norman.
Julian also researched woman who abandoned their children. Either because of new relationships, unmanaged stress, or other factors. He's read heart breaking stories about mothers who abandoned their young families without a word of goodbye and simply started over. Often times having new families and never making contact with their former lives again.
Not because there was anything wrong with their children from their previous lives, but because they wanted to start over. Julian learned it was more of a control issue. An extreme narcissistic trait that prompted them to live in a fantasy that what they had done was fine. They believed their children hadn't suffered without them and they were only looking out for themselves and their happiness. Often times these mothers still thought of their now grown children as the ages they were when they left and there was still time to go back and reconnect.
Julian's mother Norma didn't share these characteristics of delusion and selfishness. She and his father seemed to have suffered greatly in their own way. They had given up a lot to start over including a career in as sheriff and his mother's own business and her own home. She hadn't been able to talk about her son because she wanted to protect Julian. She had chosen to leave Norman because she believed he was dangerous to her and her unborn child.
She'd felt helpless and unable to think of a better option with her now adult son.
~ It was because of his fascination with Norman Bates and the complicated life his mother had lead, Julian had gotten his Phd in phycology. He stayed away from a nice, safe family practice and focused on the minds of killers. What made them snap and most importantly, what were the warning signs.
His primary study had been serial killers, specifically killers who looked harmless and his masters thesis had been added on to, turned into a book and made it on the best seller list under the enticing title, 'Hidden Monsters'.
He'd spent two years of his young career interviewing killers and their families. Even gaining new insight that the FBI profilers had missed.
He'd gained more notoriety than most writers of the same subject because he created a complete profile about the killers, victims, and how law enforcement caught them, how the legal team defended him and their honest opinions about these killers. He didn't glamorize the killings like some did but did deep back stories into the family and what made them this way.
Far too many of them were from broken homes; had been exposed to violence or a feeling of losing power.
The female killers were different. Without fail, they had all been victims of sexual assault at a young age by a trusted family member or friend. Most of them neglected or abused by family members. Most of them remorseful for what they'd done, but couldn't see another way.
The men were different. They liked the attention and notoriety their killings gave them. Liked to at least pretend they were above average intelligence and repeatedly said so. They were well aware of their celebrity status, even in the prison system and demanded to be treated better than the other inmates.
The more infamous a killer was, the more law enforcement officials hated them. One local cop who'd arrested a very famous killer of young girls, had told Julian that for every one they arrest, two more seemed to take his place. Especially when you make them famous.
So, Julian hadn't romanticized the murderers. Instead, he made psychological profiles of the victims and their families. What lead them to become victims? What behavior had put them at such risk? His second book 'Stealing Fear Away' was all about getting the right mentality so the reader wouldn't become a victim.
It had become a phenomenal best seller. Especially with women who were tired of having to be afraid of everyone and everything around them.
Dr. Julian Romero, had not meant to become a feminist icon, but that what he was. Telling women it was perfectly okay to 'not be polite'. That nice girls found themselves killed or under the control of a bad man all the time because they didn't want to be rude. That society had conditioned women to be polite and that made them vulnerable.
He pointed out that killers didn't want a victim who looked like they would be uncooperative. They wanted a victim they could easily intimidate, manipulate and hurt.
He'd done the talk show circuit, gotten lots of fan mail and a few marriage proposals, but he was diving into his next book by then. All about recognizing the symptoms of a killer and what resources are there to help.
When he wrote his books, he always imagined he was talking to his mother. The youthful picture of his parents just a few days after they had gotten married sat in a fame at his desk. His mother smiling her beautiful smile. His father looking uneasy, but he never liked having his picture taken. White Christmas lights sparkling around them and making them look almost magical.
It was always to his mother he wrote and dedicated his books to. Reaching back in time to talk with that younger woman about her troubled son. What she needed to do to save him; to save herself. Wanting to help her. Wanting to tell her it wasn't her fault.
'Look, here's the symptoms of a serial killer: Antisocial behavior, cruelty to animals, dysfunctional family life, childhood abuse, voyeurism, intelligence and the inability to keep stable work, schooling or relationships. Has Norman exhibited any of these symptoms?' he'd ask her calmly in his gentle doctor's voice.
He already knew the answer. His father had told him about the taxidermy and how his mother had caught him peeking at guests. His only job had ever been at the motel, but he'd been young and a high school drop out who was highly intelligent.
Yes, each book was a desperate attempt to reach his mother back then and show her the way. She'd tried so hard to help her son by keeping him secluded from the outside world and people. Something that only made the problem worse.
Over the next ten years he wrote several books about killers and their family dynamics. About law enforcement and even took a jab at the disastrous Steven Avery case. He hadn't made many friends in law enforcement after he called them out for planting evidence. Stephen Avery didn't fit the profile of a killer. Nowhere near the neighborhood.
He wrote about modern killers and historical ones. The cult leader who commanded his followers to murder people. He wrote about school shooters and the psychology behind their crimes. Research that was later implemented in schools to stop more school shooting by recognizing a troubled child before the shooting started.
In all this recognition, Julian was alone. He'd neglected to date anyone seriously because his work was so macabre that is scared away some women. The women that stayed were not to his liking. They were hard a professional type like himself. Very intelligent who worked for police or the FBI and desperately wanted to have good chemistry with him.
Julian didn't care for them. He didn't want the kind of wife or partner who would share the ugly world he would spy on and make notes after the blood had been cleaned up and the bodies taken away.
He wanted a wife that would be just like his mother was to his father. A spouse who made his life easier and was strong and capable enough to keep him grounded. To stop these horrible waves of depression that seemed to roll over him like crushing waves.
He knew a wife would be good for him. Would help him, but he never had time to date. His mother begged him to let her set him up. That he was getting old and so was she and she wanted to at least 'see' a grandchild before she died.
Julian had nodded. Made no commitment or comment and hugged his father goodbye on these visits.
With all his books and profiles, he'd neglected to write about his own brother because there was precious little to write about Norman Bates. The house and motel were gone. The victims were the easily brushed off because they were not wholesome and innocent. Madeline had been having an affair with her future killer. Penny Lawson was a troubled runaway and Earnest Constantine was a local malcontent who had been in trouble with the law for years. Rebecca Hamilton was wanted by the FBI and was a fugitive for over ten years when she was found.
Not to mention it was rumored Blair Watson had been sexually abusing a then minor Norman Bates at the time of her death, and the other victims found or believed to have been killed all seemed to have dark pasts or brought their fate upon themselves.
Julian had been disgusted by the amount of victim blaming. As if these women's lives didn't count because they weren't wholesome Disney princesses.
As for Norman's mental state, he never granted interviews because he was ruled not mentally competent year after year by a foul little doctor named West ever since he was committed. No patient could consent to be interviewed who was deemed insane.
So, Norman was stashed away to rot and was forgotten about.
Rot away he had, for twenty five years. Now that time was up and the infamous Dr. Julian Romero had requested to evaluate Norman Bates, for medical reasons. He was given permission and a complete medical and behavioral history.
~ White Pine Bay was a beautiful, picture perfect town. Not a big box store to be seen and it was as if time had forgotten it. Left it back in the 1960's.
It was a charming little tourist trap that offered outdoor sports, beautiful views and no one at all remembered the old house on the hill with the motel.
But to Norman's mind, the house would always be there. He was told, by a very smug guard that his mother's house had burned down. The motel to.
That guard had waited and watched Norman's reaction, even handing him the paper with the beautiful home engulfed in fames.
Perhaps the guard, a cynical and powerless man in his private life, had wanted to see Norman react. To hopefully weep and moan so he could tell all his friends in the bar about how that 'killer of women' the 'lover of dead things' had cried like a baby when his mommy's house had burned to the ground.
Norman had politely put the paper aside and said nothing. He later told his lawyer that that particular guard had made sexual advances to him and the guard was reassigned.
Norman, when his medication was well balanced, was perfectly fine. Horrible, manipulative and mean, but perfectly fine.
The first year after he'd been arrested had been the worst. So much was happening. So many people just wouldn't leave him alone. They would open doors to places he thought he'd been alone in and intrude into his personal space. They would demand things and grow angry if he didn't give them the answers they wanted.
He could feel her stirring when they did this. Feel 'Mother's' claws climbing out of his chest as if from a deep dark well or cave. Her horrible smell, dank like the swamp was suddenly everywhere. Then he found it hard to breathe and he was back in the summer place again.
Rebecca was reading one of her romance novels in the living room. He was helping Madeline bake a cake for dinner in the kitchen. Everything there was peaceful. It was always daylight in this place. Always warm and sunny. There were no dark corners.
They would do little chores, mostly him and Madeline together. He'd take her upstairs to Mother's room and she'd obediently lie down for him. Her dress neatly smoothed out like a lady should be.
She would let him touch her. Obediently, but always apprehensively spreading her legs for him. Norman was blissful aroused by that. He never grew tired of the way she looked when he took her. When he touched her and she gave into him.
Afterwards, they were happy and things were good.
What felt like days later, he would wake up strapped to a gurney again. The raw stink of his own foulness, evidence he'd been left there without being check on for who knew how long.
It was when they started to medicate him so heavily that Norman felt his safe world fade away into blackness. Rebecca growing dimmer like she'd walked into a darkened bedroom and never coming back out. Madeline, upstairs maybe, but he couldn't find her.
The house, blinking out and disappearing and Norman was left with nowhere to go now when doctors belittled him and asked him questions.
These doctors were awful. They asked the most upsetting things. They had wanted to know if his father had touched him sexually. Had he ever sodomized him as a child? Did his mother abuse him? Make him sleep in the same bed with her, that sort of thing.
Norman noticed the other patients around him for the first time. Men who had done awful things to others and themselves. Who would scream at nothing and try to hide from everyone.
Norman wished he could hide. Wished he could find the house again.
He wished more than anything he could find Rebecca. Rebecca would tell these doctors off. Make fun of them and dismiss them. She'd see to it he was taken out of this place and take him back to the summer place again. The doctors would be scared of her because she was so smart, she'd undoubtedly find some sort of loophole that would make all this a bad dream.
But Rebecca hadn't come back. She faded away into darkness and Madeline had left him without saying goodbye. He was alone.
~ Norman had only had one doctor in the two and a half decades he'd been county. Dr. West came to see him every six weeks like clockwork. Adjusted his medications and continued to deny Norman internet access and TV privileges.
Norman had been allowed to use the library, but all the books were old and the kind of thing not meant to excite or stimulate. Mostly kids, pre-teen or teen books. Books about magic and things that could never be real.
There was nothing of substance in the library. It was all sugar and no protein. Nothing that relived Norman's stress and helped him escape.
Norman found new hobbies now that he was alone and terribly hurt that he'd been so abandoned. He took up drawing and excelled in the creative writing class. He liked arts and crafts but there was limited supplies and he wasn't allowed to keep the paper sculpture he'd done of Juno in his room.
As for his room, he was allowed nothing except his blanket and bunk. No pictures and only a few books at a time. He wanted his pictures of his mother back. His real mother and pictures of Dylan in his room. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her pretty face again and remember when things were good.
As the years passed and Dr. West fiddled with his medication, Norman started to lose his teeth as a result. They crumbled out of his head like chalk and he didn't tell anyone.
Perhaps it was the meds, poor nutrition, or simple aging, but Norman looked tired and weather all the time now. As if he was constantly fighting a flu coming on.
The facility was old and naturally damp from the weather outside and Norman could never get used to it.
As a result, when a new doctor, a Dr. Julian Romero came to see him, he saw a man who looked much older than 55. Thinning gray hair, crumbling and missing teeth, a thin body that was tall, but had become hunched over with poor posture and sallow skin.
Still, his eyes were as alive as ever. His mother's eyes, he told himself proudly on the rare occasion he glanced at a mirror. He had his mother's eyes and she had the most beautiful blue eyes ever.
As for this new doctor, Norman hadn't even winced at the name Romero. It was common enough and he didn't trace it back to his long lost step-father.
It had been 35 years and Norman had forgotten so many details. He hadn't seen any photographs. Those things were denied to him. Ruled as stimulating and therefore banned. In 35 years he had forgotten his mother's face. Forgotten the exact lines of her nose, the way she smelled after being in her garden all morning. The way she smiled when she cooked him breakfast.
He'd also wholly forgotten what her third husband looked like. The man who stole her away from him. That man was just a blur to Norman. He doubted he could pick him out of a line up even if he hadn't aged more than three decades. If he was even still alive, which he hoped he wasn't.
Looking at the young doctor now made Norman Bates pause. He was good looking. With dark hair and eyes. His nose… and maybe his mouth looked familiar but he couldn't say how. But his eyes were cutting and seemed to observe Norman. Like he already knew more about him than anyone had a right to.
It was only when the young doctor sat down and asked how Norman was doing that he saw past the fashionable glasses, the tweed jacket and closely cropped hair.
You took all that intellectual shit away and Sheriff Romero was appraising him all over again.