Kohberger has now received four consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole, almost three years later. During his sentencing, the families of Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, and Kaylee Goncalves stood before him in court and expressed their sorrow. One statement made by Goncalves’s mother, Kristi, particularly stood out to me: “You’ve changed my every waking moment.”
What did Kohberger say? Nothing. Not a trace of regret, and perhaps worse, no indication of a motive. Even after entering a guilty plea, Kohberger still causes these families pain by not offering a complete confession to justify his actions. Judge Steven Hippler has also asked everyone to put that unanswered question out of their minds, possibly in direct response to these families. “We keep Mr. Kohberger relevant by keeping our attention on the why. We grant him agency. We grant him authority.” The killings were an “unfathomable and senseless act of evil,” according to Hippler—unadulterated and straightforward. The story is over.
Perhaps that concludes the tale. In other words, Kohberger killed because he wanted to, had no regard for his victims, and was just motivated to do so. Would anything change if Kohberger made that admission himself? Would it change how these families or any of us feel?
In 1966, Charles Whitman, a Texas tower sniper, fatally stabbed his mother and wife before climbing a clock tower with a rifle, a shotgun, and multiple handguns, and firing at random people for 96 minutes. He killed 16 people and injured numerous others before being killed by police. (Decades later, the 17th victim would pass away from his wounds.) Whitman did, in contrast to Kohberger, make a complete confession in his suicide note:
These days, I don’t truly understand who I am. I am expected to be a typical young man who is intelligent and reasonable. But lately—I can’t remember when it began—I’ve been the target of a lot of strange and illogical thoughts.
He wrote that although he loved his wife very much, his violent tendencies overcame him. In addition, he reported having excruciating headaches and asked that “an autopsy be performed on me to see if there is any visible physical disorder” after his passing.
A brain tumor in his hypothalamus was pressing on his amygdala, which is the part of the brain that helps control emotions like fear, anxiety, and aggression, according to the results of an autopsy. The governor established a panel of pathologists, psychiatrists, and other specialists who stated that “abnormal aggressive behavior may be a manifestation of organic brain disease.” Although they were working with a 1966 level understanding of neurophysiology, they were unable to establish a direct connection between Whitman’s actions and the tumor, and it is still possible that the tumor played a role in his suffering.
Nobody I’ve met has ever heard that story without experiencing a glimmer of doubt or grudging pity. If they discovered a brain tumor pressing on Kohberger’s amygdala or a gene for psychopathy in his genome, would that alter our opinion of him? Must it?
The philosopher Sam Harris uses the Whitman case as a starting point for a larger argument in a series of lectures on free will on the Waking Up app, to which I contribute: If we could really comprehend the intricacies of the human brain, we would think differently about how we understand human behavior as well. Harris states:
A brain tumor is merely a unique instance of our realization that thoughts and behaviors are derived from physical events. It would appear to be as exonerating as discovering a tumor in a murderer’s brain if we were to fully comprehend its neurophysiology. The basis for blaming him in any meaningful way would vanish if we could clearly see how the wrong genes were being relentlessly transcribed and how this person’s life experiences had shaped the microstructure of his brain in a way that produced mental states that were sure to make him violent.
To be clear, I’m not against murderers facing consequences. Quite the opposite. However, how we perceive the origins of human behavior will determine what those consequences should be. For this reason, I think it is appropriate to inquire as to why Kohberger took the actions that he did.
That why question has plagued me throughout my life. Rudy Guede, who broke into my house and fatally stabbed my roommate Meredith Kercher, never acknowledged his crimes, much less provided an explanation—like Kohberger did. However, fortunately (and regrettably) in Guede’s case, his motivations were simple and clear: He was apprehended while breaking into our apartment, he raped Meredith because he could, and he killed her because he valued his freedom over her life. (Guede has insisted on his innocence and that I and my ex-boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, were responsible for his crimes.)
Moreover, it is simpler to track down and explain Guede’s life and criminal activities than Kohberger’s: Guede acknowledges that his father abandoned him after removing him from his mother when he was a small child. Since he was frequently left on his own, he first sought refuge by breaking into other people’s houses. As he grew older, he turned to drugs, lost his job, and committed burglaries to fund his lifestyle. He was arrested occasionally, but not always. Every time he felt a little more confident and entitled, he found himself back on the streets—until he met Meredith one day.
He falsely accused me and Raffaele after he was caught for her murder because he valued his freedom over our lives. For reasons I have previously discussed, the police and prosecution were all too ready to accept his blatantly false testimony. The authorities only charged Guede with sexual assault and “complicity in murder,” never holding him responsible for using the knife that killed Meredith, in an attempt to prove they had solved the case and in their haste to sentence two innocent people to life in prison. He was therefore given a light sentence. Guede, feeling even more confident and entitled, found himself back on the streets after serving just 13 years in prison. The outcome? For stalking and sexually abusing another young woman, he is currently on trial once more. (Guede refutes the accusations.)
None of us who learned about Guede’s past during his initial murder trial were surprised by this. Because Guede was, in a sense, “understandable.” He never came across as a Ted Bundy-type psychopath, but rather as a man motivated by violent impulses and a sense of self-preservation following a crime he may not have intended to commit.
What makes a man like Kohberger unique? Yes, in the sense that his intentions are more enigmatic. However, it could be argued that both murder by deliberate design and murder for self-preservation stem from a willingness to use violence combined with a total lack of empathy. Both Guede and Kohberger have been branded as evil, and they both fit that description.
The word “evil” seems like a cop-out to me, especially after having been on the receiving end of that label. It is a justification for ceasing to think critically, disregarding the evidence, and hating and punishing someone that law enforcement did not or would not comprehend.
Even though my innocence has long been proven, I worry that when people use words like evil to describe people who have been proven to be guilty of violent crimes, they are doing so not only to highlight how unimaginable those crimes are, but also to wish harm upon the guilty—not as a way to deter or rehabilitate them, but just for their own sake.
When the label was applied to my prosecutor, it brought comfort to my own family and friends. Ultimately, he persisted in his persecution after the police had found and apprehended the man who killed my roommate—the man whose DNA was found on her body and at the crime scene; the man who had precedent, opportunity, means, and motive—and what do you call that but evil?
However, as Sam Harris notes, the choices we have in life are influenced by the decisions made by others, which in turn affect the environment we live in. Furthermore, genes and environmental factors that they did not choose shape the minds of even those who are predisposed to psychopathy.
Who knows? In the case of Kohberger, the answer might be something like industrial poisoning, which author Caroline Fraser claims was a covert factor in the rise of serial killers in the 1970s and 1980s in her book Murderland. In that scenario, treating Kohberger as though he were suffering from a contagious and incurable illness—quarantined for his and our sakes—would make more sense than treating him as though he were in some kind of moral desert. Being banished from society for life is a severe consequence, but it is not motivated by retaliation.
It’s more likely that we lack the technology and knowledge of the human brain and genome to fully comprehend Kohberger’s brokenness, much like medieval plague doctors lacked the resources and knowledge necessary to save millions of people from avoidable death. Could we do it tomorrow? Consider this: Would it make sense to put Kohberger in prison for life because he “deserves” it, even if gene therapy could be used to make him a rational, compassionate, and loving person?
Kohberger is incredibly unlucky if his brokenness is due to circumstances outside of his control. I can only imagine how terrible it must be to live a life completely devoid of true human connection, to move through the world as though people are nothing more than tools to be used and destroyed. His family didn’t choose to have a killer for a son, and like the families of his victims, they will always be affected by what he did. I can only imagine the pain they are going through.
It may seem like a betrayal of the victims to acknowledge these facts, but I don’t believe it is. Studying the causes of violence in depth and pushing ourselves to see the terrible, banal reality—that some people can be broken under certain circumstances and that, far too frequently, we are unable to anticipate or stop the horrible things that a broken person might do—is, in my opinion, one way to honor the victims of horrifying crimes.
Judge Hippler may be correct in saying that we shouldn’t expect Kohberger to explain why the lives of Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, Kaylee Goncalves, and Ethan Chapin were so cruelly and unfairly taken. Not only does it give Kohberger unwarranted attention, but it also suggests that he probably lacks the answers.
However, dismissing someone as evil—as many people encouraged me to do with my prosecutor—is a pretext for ignoring the root causes of human dysfunction. We erect this wall to keep people away from us who do the worst things we can think of. Paradoxically, it also, in a sense, condones psychopathy. Remember: When criminals were once drawn and quartered, crowds cheered. Is there anything more psychopathic? People are still put to death today in somewhat more subdued but no less morally dubious ways. People talk about “justice” and “closure,” but our culture encourages us to enjoy other people’s suffering without ever questioning why.
That’s why I continue to try, despite my occasional failure, to have some real curiosity and empathy for people who are classified as “evil.” It’s difficult, and I had to earn the forgiveness of the man who wrongfully convicted me. I still have a hard time feeling sorry for Rudy Guede.
Will the parents of Ethan, Madison, Xana, and Kaylee accept the challenge of having a sympathetic opinion of Kohberger? Absolutely not. Without a doubt, their anger and existential sorrow are justified. The rest of us, those who are not at the center of this tragedy, have two options: either we condemn and label, or we try to make sense of the absurd in the hopes that we might figure out a way to stop the next tragedy from happening.
Acceptance and a desire to comprehend the flawed, complex, and occasionally very dangerous people around me are the only things that I’ve discovered that have truly assisted me in recovering from my own horrific experiences.
