Perfect Victim (36 page)

The most striking thing about Robertson’s identifying behaviour to an observer like Minisini is that it placed her well outside the stereotype of a female homicide offender. International data shows that it is exceedingly rare for women to kill. A study of homicide published by the Australian Institute of Criminology in Canberra reveals that only one in ten murders in Australia between 1989 and 1999 were committed by women. When women kill, it says, their victims are generally intimates: lovers, partners or children. Most crimes are committed in the context of a longstanding abusive relationship, and the typical female killer is aged around twenty-nine.

But Robertson was much younger than this when she killed Rachel Barber – and unlike the stereotypical woman offender, who is unemployed, she had a stable job. She was also single, whereas the typical perpetrator would be married or in a de facto relationship. Finally, Robertson had a comfortable middleclass background, while the typical female killer would be from a lower socioeconomic background.

Robertson’s choice of victim and her motive set her aside too, since not only did she kill someone outside her family but she chose to target another female – which is extremely rare. Few women kill other women, and even fewer kill distant friends, or commit murder out of jealousy. The only factor she shares with the more typical female killer is that she chose to carry out the murder in her own home.

To Minisini, the unusual motive and nature of the Rachel Barber case set it apart from many of the other murders he has studied. Moreover, he says, it is very unusual to compile the personality and criminal profile of a killer who has already been caught. In some respects this means working backwards. In most cases Minisini would study the crime scene and the nature of the death, and examine the victim. All of the information gleaned would give him an understanding of the type of offender most likely to have committed the crime, and offer some insight into the motive.

In this case, the killer’s identity being known, there were many other significant factors that told him not only why Robertson chose Rachel Barber as her victim but
why
she killed her in the way she did. They also explain her behaviour in the lead-up to the crime, and in the days following the murder.

Robertson’s writings reveal, as does her behaviour, the startling story of a girl who, rightly or wrongly, perceived herself to be a victim. They convey the clear picture of a girl who had a vision of where she wanted to go in life, and what she wanted to be. But lacking the means to achieve these things, she retreated into fantasy.

‘From the piles of letters and writings (which certainly seem to span at least a seven-year period as best we can gather) we can see her anger slowly building up. I see her as an inadequate individual and her letters take us through a journey of extremely low self-esteem and low confidence, which would understandably have made her an isolationist, leaving her void of the skills she’d need to successfully interact with others.’

Given her poor interpersonal skills and inability to interact with girls her own age, it was little wonder that her writings illustrated deep paranoia and a belief that she was being gossiped or laughed about. These hurts, real or imagined, says Minisini, would have triggered her subsequent retreat into the safety of her imagination, where she could dream of a more acceptable life.

Fantasising, he explains, offered her the chance to be someone else, someone successful and attractive who mingled in showbiz circles; someone who could amaze friends on Oprah’s ‘If You Could See Me Now Reunion’, leaving them incredulous that she had finally left behind the ‘little deadbeat scum bag’ she perceived herself to be.

Minisini remains in no doubt that Robertson role-played being someone else, until Rachel Barber became the object of her fantasy. When the fantasy lost its buzz, it would have taken a sinister turn, evolving into a dream of death.

‘A fantasy is a daydream in which everything ends perfectly,’ says Minisini. ‘We all have them and they all involve role-playing some part in which everything turns out the way we want. It’s the usual pleasant harmless stuff and goes nowhere.

‘But this woman, like many killers I have seen, appeared to live most of her life in fantasy. She would have “acted out” the role of being someone like Rachel Barber over and over again, until it lost its appeal. Then, in her developing new fantasy, she would have role-played killing the victim who symbolised everything she wanted – acting it out in her mind until it was perfect in every little detail, before finally crossing the line into a dangerous new realm and actually killing her.’

Minisini says it is known from studies of murderers that each has a perfect victim in mind. ‘Some murders, especially serial killings, are the products of that fantasy. They are almost invariably committed by highly organised and intelligent killers who plan to act out in real life the fantasies they have had for years. These killers often look for someone who is an ideal or perfect victim in their fantasy. It could be that a victim fitting that ideal just happens to come along and finds themselves in the wrong place at the right time – a victim of opportunity. But more often than not, the victim is someone a predator actively targets. Robertson’s ‘perfect victim’ was young, pretty and talented and a performer too – exactly the type of victim Robertson needed to fulfil her fantasy.

There were other reasons, though, why Rachel was ideal. And Minisini agrees with Justice Vincent’s view that Robertson targeted the girl partly because she was known to her and was someone she could build some sort of trust with, so that she could lure her victim away and isolate her from help. ‘She was accessible and vulnerable, and would probably not offer resistance which might result in a loss of control for Robertson, who would have wanted to have avoided attracting attention.

‘This was anything but a crime of opportunity. There are no signs here of primitive behaviour or spontaneous, explosive rage. The level of planning and organisation is indicative of an extremely intelligent person.’ He said that the careful way Robertson had prepared the double-knotted noose suggested she’d done this well in advance. It wouldn’t have been possible for her to have rustled this up while attempting to overpower her victim.

Minisini read court reports stating that Robertson had ‘some intelligence’, and found this an understatement given the scholarship she had won to Camberwell Girls Grammar, and the cunning nature of her plan. ‘I suspect, given the evidence about her plan and writings, she is much more intelligent than has been recognised.’ He noted from reports that Robertson’s IQ was 114. And he was cautious about any medical assessment based on observations gleaned in just two hours with a manipulative killer capable of convincing anyone of anything. Minisini says the strong element of ‘preparedness’, and the length of time the crime had been taking shape in Robertson’s thoughts, showed that she intended to execute a perfect crime and get away with it.

Minisini believes that Robertson’s ruse of the psychological study she invited Rachel to take part in must have been very convincing. She had the foresight to consider where and how she would kill the young girl, ensuring that the secret meeting remained confidential to increase her chances of escaping undetected.

The drugging referred to in Robertson’s plan, while strenuously denied by the killer, would have been central to keeping Rachel under her control, he claims. He doubts very much whether a killer acting out a detailed fantasy would have suddenly chosen to diverge from that plan. Alcohol could also have formed part of the plot to subdue the victim, in combination with drugs to minimise noise and resistance. In spite of Robertson’s denials that either was administered, the autopsy did not rule out the possibility that both were used, he points out.

Minisini feels the same way about Robertson’s proposed disfigurement of the victim, referring to Justice Vincent’s observations in court that it indicated Robertson’s ‘wish to smash and destroy that other person’: a crime of rage and hate. Again, this disfigurement clearly formed part of her fantasy, so why abandon it? Given the advanced state of decomposition of the victim’s body, it is again very difficult to discount the fact that Robertson might well have vented her anger on the victim in this way. It is also in keeping with a highly organised personality executing a very deliberate plan, since disfigurement would hinder identification of Rachel Barber’s body.

Ligature strangulation as a means of killing is very significant too, says Minisini. Relatively quiet, it would be a clean and easy method of murdering a victim less than half the size of the assailant. In her orderly way Robertson would no doubt have considered this her best option since she would not want evidence scattered around the scene. Minisini notes that Robertson had written of her intention to hire a carpet-cleaning firm to remove traces of evidence. She had clearly given this aspect of the crime some thought.

But Claude Minisini believes Robertson would also have selected strangulation because of the up-close, personal nature of this method. ‘We know that killers with a desire to retain control have a need to fulfil their ultimate fantasy by watching a victim’s life ebb away – knowing that the victim’s fate is entirely in their hands. It is the ultimate in power and control. Everything about this crime is calculating, cold and cruel.

‘Would she have been anxious though?’ Minisini asks. ‘Yes, of course she would … and particularly on the day of the planned murder … so it is understandable she would have taken the day off … She also took a huge risk afterwards, transporting the body to the country by van, and I imagine that too would have caused her great anxiety. But this would have been more related to getting caught than feeling anxious or upset about what she had done to Rachel.’

The evidence, he says, leaves him fairly sure that Robertson was not in shock or experiencing dissociation after the killing. He disputes the evidence of medical professionals who seemed convinced that her professed amnesia about the crime was genuine.

‘That is absolutely not what her actions tell us. They tell us she was comfortable enough to spend time around her flat, with a dead body in her wardrobe – not the behaviour of someone ill at ease with what she has done. It says a lot about her as an individual, no doubt getting a secret buzz just being there with the body of someone she had killed. The fact that she could continue going to work, visit the Grand Prix with her co-workers, all suggests she wasn’t at all uncomfortable or remorseful – rather that she has no conscience. Keeping the girl’s body in her home for a few days would have allowed her the chance to relive the fantasy of the killing for a while, but being practical, she knew it would be appropriate to remove it to avoid detection.’

Choosing to dispose of Rachel Barber’s body at Kilmore, says Minisini, was not a random decision either. Kilmore was selected because it was remote. Robertson would have known that neighbours were unlikely to spot her, or disturb her, allowing her sufficient time to dig a grave for Rachel Barber’s body.

Minisini says it is interesting that Robertson, like other killers he has studied, attempted to infiltrate herself into the subsequent murder investigation, ringing the Barbers’ home professing to be helpful, but in truth attempting to determine the status of the investigation. This behaviour is not unusual: some killers will offer to help in police searches while some have been known to hang around bars where detectives drink, generating discussions about a killing they’ve committed.

Neither is it unusual for killers to take ‘souvenirs’ from their victims, fuelling emotions of power generated by the actual conquest. They relive the murder each time they see the trophy – generally items of clothing, photographs from wallets or jewellery. Some male killers have been known to take jewellery from their victims and give it to their female partners, enjoying a secret thrill from watching it being worn. ‘It’s an extension of the dress-up notion central to role-playing,’ Minisini explains. ‘He notes that Rachel’s two necklaces, her diamond earrings, and the topaz ring she’d been wearing when she disappeared have never been found. And neither have her dancing shoes, Humphrey Bear soft toy or dance bag. Robertson claimed to have no memory of the missing items. But, Minisini wonders, given Robertson’s written admission that she stole from her family, branding herself ‘a stealing baby’, why wouldn’t she have taken the possessions of a girl whose life she stole?

Minisini remains ‘extremely cynical’ about the suggestion of amnesia, stating that any recall of the finer details of her crime would interfere with Robertson’s performance as ‘victim’. ‘I would say it is very much in her interests to remain amnesic about the killing because if people knew what had really gone on at her flat, no one would feel sorry for her at all. And being a victim, sympathy is central to her role-playing.’ He agrees strongly with Justice Vincent’s sentencing remarks that the signs of remorse she exhibited in court were most likely to be manifestations of self-pity. But he is not convinced that the passage of time might encourage the killer to make a full disclosure. Again, it simply would not be in her interests if she wished to continue to be seen as the victim.

Consultant forensic psychiatrist Dr Michele Pathe, formerly from the Victorian Institute of Forensic Mental Health in Melbourne, also remains cautious about the amnesia, although, given Robertson’s ability to detach herself, she says it cannot be discounted. Even Dr Justin Barry-Walsh, who assessed Robertson for the defence, remains open-minded about the claims of amnesia. ‘You would always have to be suspicious about the amnesia since so many serious offenders claim to have no memory of the actual events of a crime and that can be seen to serve a very clear-cut and obvious purpose,’ he said. ‘Most serious offenders will say they are amnesic, though I have to say that this case seemed to go further than that.’

But he admitted that since he had only seen Robertson briefly, he would have needed to have spent more than ‘a couple of hours with her to be sure about anything.’ And no, he could not rule out the possibility that her amnesia might not be genuine.