Hers were very calmly delivered, pure psychological degradation. She was very narcissistic, such as entering beauty pageants, taking modeling classes, and becoming a varsity song girl (i.e., cheer leader) in high school. She craved the attention, and would walk past me on campus as if we were complete strangers — no, actually she’d probably smile to a complete stranger.

Sometime between his teens and 20s, my younger brother, Alan, emerged with his own narcissistic and violent, sociopathic characteristics. None of us were close growing up. The only two siblings who maintained an ongoing relationship into adulthood were Kathy, the oldest, and Alan, the youngest. They also shared the similar violent and hostile temperaments, the charming personas, and the complete lack of compassion, morality, integrity and of course, any semblance of honesty.

I guess from sheer luck, the gene skipped me. Doing so, though, resulted in me becoming the outcast, the same way my mom would end up being treated.

Question: What’s considered a bad-upbringing in terms of a sociopath … being spoiled or being abused?  Just food for thought.

It’s in our Genes … not our upbringing.

In summary, the bad gene was brought into the family from my dad’s side, and he passed it to three of his four offspring. I believe that I carry the gene, though I was the skipped generation. From what I’ve been able to gather, my dad got the bad gene from his mother’s side. The source paths don’t seem that difficult to identify, as long as one has a sufficient, if not just a minimal amount of experience to compare both parents.

Obtaining additional knowledge gathered from other branches of the family would prove very beneficial as well. And as luck would have it, I was recently contacted by a “distant cousin” from another branch of our family. He located me on Ancestry.com — a site I registered on a few years ago as a free member, and frankly, that was all I ever did. But his contact was very timely.

To tell my story completely, one must also know the physical trauma and injuries I endured, beginning with a broken back at the age of 12, and how my siblings used that to increase their character assassination of me, sometime after my hospital stay about 40 years later.

At the end of 2001, I had surgery on my back, and was infected with MRSA around my spine. Initially not even expected to survive, and after 120 days of intensive treatment, I never fully recovered. You can read all about the details leading up to that event from the links in the right column, right under MY NINE LIVES. If you do read it, pay close attention to the characteristics of my surgeon, and see if you recognize any familiar traits.

As I’ve said many times: “They kept me alive, but took away my life.”

How many sociopaths have you had in your life?

People who think they can read 10-steps on how to identify a sociopath need a reality check — it’s virtually impossible. Sociopaths are so cunning, such great actors, so manipulative, seemingly some of the nicest people around, that if you do suspect someone, there’s a good chance you identified a jerk. Sociopaths focus everything on hiding their true personality. They are the ones most people never suspect. Such as Bernard Madoff.

Unless you happen to witness something that sends chills up your spine — chances are you’ll never suspect anything. But if you do see something, you better hope they didn’t see you. If they discovered you witnessed something, anything, even nothing but they react from their own paranoia, it’s time for you to change jobs, or even move out of state. Because even if that individual laughs it off with an acceptable excuse, they now know you saw something that could threaten them.

The sociopath will win. They have no limits … you do.

They may even appear to become better friends with you, and that’s all it would be is “appearance.” What they could be doing is keeping a closer eye on you, and without raising your suspicions, attempt to determine exactly what you do know, what you did see, and what you will discuss. While at the same time, as they learn more about you, they could begin the process to decimate your character, spreading the most evil and malicious lies about you. So evil, that people who had associated with you, will begin to avoid you.

A sociopath takes no risks with having their public persona revealed as a fake, as that would threaten their entire lifestyle. Even if only fueled by their own paranoia, a sociopath will not wait to go on the defensive. What they do is what I call: offensive-revenge. A sociopath has virtually no boundaries or limits … they see it as a job that needs to be done, and nothing will get in their way to prevent them from achieving success. Not even the legal system.

It’s all in their public persona. Someone may present their persona at home, 24/7, just as they do everywhere else. Even a spouse can be extremely difficult to recognize as having sociopathic characteristics if they are determined to hide it from everyone, as they know even family can be a threat.

I believe that a sociopath can be so extremely ruthless, so evil, so guilt-free, that they are capable of what I call: indirect homicide. Such as a victim that became so banished and an outcast by those he considered friends, that the victim could resort to ending his own life.

And that sociopath would continue their maliciously evil lifestyle without losing a bit of sleep.

But frankly, we should really start at the beginning …

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NEXT:  Growing-up hated by my loved ones.

Mom was pregnant again. If my folks didn’t have a boy, that would put an end to any future generations of our family branch. In that vein, Marcia was probably a disappointment of sorts, not being a boy, which contributed to Kathy maintaining dad’s favor after Marcia was born.

It’s a Boy.

Namesake, even. Photos of me being held by every distant relative, many whom had not appeared in any previous family photos, and virtually no sign of Kathy in any of those early photos.

Now there was a third child to fit into the family photos, but instead of dad just putting me on his other knee, he removed Kathy from “her” place of honor, setting her alone on the cold couch, and placed me on the spot that Kathy considered her own.

Kathy must have continually seen the pride in dad’s face, holding this new intruder that dad had so easily replaced her with. She lost her special perch and dad’s attention … nothing she experienced with Marcia’s arrival. Undoubtedly, she wanted her position back with dad, so the resentment she built was most assuredly focussed on her intruder, and how she would need to dethrone him.

Kathy must have felt deeply rejected and hurt, and apparently, no one noticed. Even in this photo, Marcia is very relaxed, I’m having a great time, but look closely at the stress in Kathy’s little hands. Since some of my earliest memories include unprovoked hostility from Kathy, I really wonder when it actually began. As young and innocent as I was, I had already become a target.

A rejection that so obsessed Kathy, she never let it go.

By the time I got a little older, and began storing my own memories, I have no recollection, whatsoever, of ever seeing that pride in my dad’s face in real life. Never. It was only captured in photos when I was very young. What could have changed in a child between the ages of two and five?

All my memories of him include a face with anger, disappointment, or frustration. Never once in my childhood did my dad ever tell me he loved me, nor did he ever hug me. But I watched as he often hugged my sisters and told them he loved them … obviously, I didn’t live up. I do not believe anyone could have been younger than I was, when I was set-up for failure.

Attack avoidance.

Memories of my childhood are filled with my abusive, alcoholic father spanking me, and only me, when I was young, then turning to hitting me as I got older. My mom would place herself between us to let me get away. Then I’d hear dad yelling at mom for “interfering.” My oldest sister, Kathy, was violently hostile to me, and me alone. It was obvious to me that they hated me, but since it was what I was used to, I simply accepted it. What mattered was staying safe.

I was spanked often, even though he didn’t need much of a reason to spank me. I don’t recall my sister, Kathy, or my brother, Alan, ever being spank. There was the bare hand spank (usually avoided since it would hurt his hand), the belt, the wood paddle, the broom stick, and whatever else was within reach.

Witnessing a public persona.

When we were young, we always went to church services together on Sunday. Not that I knew what I was witnessing back then, but that was when I first experienced my dad’s public persona. He could be yelling at us in the car one minute, but as soon as we pulled into the parking lot, he’d smile and wave. I’d watch him walk up to his buddies, and I wondered how he could change so quickly.

He had just been swinging into the back-seat and hitting us in the car, and now he’s yucking it up with his church pals. He belonged to the mens’ club, volunteered his company’s services to the church, and always greeted everyone with skilled showmanship. He should have sold cars.

During summers, when I would go to dad’s office with him, I realized he was a completely different person to his employees as well, and if they were around, he’d treat me with a modicum of respect, too. He treated his employees so well, that I remember wishing I only worked for him. But once we got in the car to go home, he was able to remove his persona, and remind me what he was really made of. He would open-up on me for something I said, something I did, but no matter what day it was, there would always be something.

Having it backwards all these years.

Living during those times, I always felt that first and foremost, it was dad who hated me, and since Kathy was dad’s favorite, she hated me, too. And knowing she would not get in trouble, she also contributed her own hostility. At least, that’s what I believed until recently … amazing how a series of current events can correct history.

In some ways, dad’s and Kathy’s abuse was very similar, but not in every way. They both abused me physically and emotionally, such as being continually called “stupid” and “will never amount to anything” — funny though, but it was Kathy who never amounted to anything. She’s never kept a job. But one way they differed was in their physical approach: dad wanted to hurt me, but Kathy wanted to injure me. There’s a huge difference.

Dad was physically abusive to me when he drank, and although he drank everyday, he didn’t begin drinking until 5pm. A tall tumbler filled with vodka on ice is what he’d call one drink. He never had just one, though. So I did my best to stay away during that period.

When push came to shove, mom stood tall.

Once, when I was 16 or 17, I walked into the house to find dad waiting for me with closed fists. Luckily he was a terrible aim when he was drunk, but he just kept coming. Mom came in, yelling at dad to stop, but he wasn’t listening. Mom became almost hysterical, and headed to the other side of the house. Minutes later, Kathy ran in, announcing that mom had called the cops. Dad immediately stop and left the room, but Kathy continued looking at me, and said, “If I were you, I’d get out of here.” Her comment made me believe that I was in big trouble … probably what she was hoping for.

I did leave on foot, just at dusk. Sometime after dark, as I was walking through an unlit field, I was suddenly hit with a spot light, and then a second … I simply came to a stop, and waited. I heard footsteps coming towards me from two directions. The first officer simply asked if I was Larry … to which I replied, “Yes.” He then asked if I’d come with him, and I agreed. We walked backed to his car, he opened his front passenger door for me, and drove me back to our house. In addition to the car I was arriving in, there were three patrol cars parked in front. The word “serious” probably never had a greater meaning. Once inside, a detective introduced himself and asked me what happened.

As I’ve always been, I opened-up with complete candor. After no more then five or ten minutes, he got up, and asked me to wait there until he returned. He headed to the other side of the house, where my dad evidently was. Minutes later, he reappeared, and said, “If this ever happens again, please call me” — and with that, he handed me his business card. I recall being shocked, with my head spinning … I was led to believe kids would usually take the fall if it involved parents. But instead, it was the first time an authority figure revealed to me that my dad was in the wrong.

Mom did an extremely brave thing for which she probably paid for. The cops didn’t arrest dad, as I had no injuries. But he never attempted to hit me again.

Sibling brutality.

Kathy, though, had no time constraints. Every chance she got, I was in her sights. And she was brutal. She wouldn’t just scratch, but she’d attempt to create canals … deep bloody gouges. I always had to be aware of her legs, too, as they were her weapons of choice. As soon as I saw one leg swing back, I had very little time to twist and ruin her targeting. Instead of hitting her desired targets, I’d take the kick in my upper thigh. An impact with such force that it would result in a black and blue bruise the size of a baseball. She always tried … she never succeeded.

I was also keenly aware that whenever Kathy brought home a friend, and introduced them to the family, her friends would greet my siblings quite differently than me. They would warmly acknowledge Marcia and Alan, but with me, they’d rarely make eye-contact and maybe mumbled a “hi.” Though I was already a victim of it, it would still be many years before I knew the term “character assassination.” The introduction I clearly remember was when Kathy introduced us to her future husband, Marlin. After seeing how warmly he greeted the others, I felt I had leprosy when he greeted me.

Kathy answered only to dad … not to mom.

I also witnessed Kathy physically brutalizing mom. It was during one of Kathy’s arguments with mom, one which turned violent, that I first felt Kathy’s capability of true evil, cold-blooded hostility.

I was about 10. After just arriving home on my bicycle, I heard yelling between Kathy and mom on the opposite side of the house. I arrived to see mom literally flying backwards across the hallway, slamming into the closet, her spine hitting the doorknob, screaming-out, then dropping to the floor crying, obviously in intense pain. Mom saw me when she first looked up from the floor, as I approached to help her. When I got to mom was when I was first able to see Kathy’s closed bedroom door.

Kathy never opened her door to see if mom needed help. I remember feeling a very eerie chill that, behind that door, Kathy was smiling. And because she never opened the door, Kathy never knew there had been an witness. There was no one else in the house.

Out on my own.

Within a month after graduating high school, I moved out. The abusive relationship I had with dad evolved into no relationship. Kathy had achieved her long-term objective of having dad to herself. Kathy and Marlin had married and moved to Alaska. During my 20s, there would be periods of 2-3 years of no contact with dad. Mom and I were very close, and I had a relationship with her like no one else in the family.

Dad would not let mom have a private conversation with me, so we’d have to wait until dad would be out doing errands. Then we’d talk and laugh for 1-2 hours sometimes, until mom would say, “Oh, I hear the garage door opening … your dad’s home.”

Right when I’d hear him walk into the house, mom would say, “It’s Larry, he just called.”

Mom was such a funny lady, yet I don’t believe anyone in the family, but I, was aware of it. Mom would never speak openly to me unless she was alone, and as time went on, I realized that meant not only dad, but no one else in the family could be present.

Of course, now that makes more sense than ever. Dad brought the “bad gene” into the family. Dad, as well as all three of my siblings exhibit sociopathic characteristics. I’ve caught all of them lying, and I believe they’ll lie to be safe.

For some reason, I was spared the effects of the bad gene. I assume I was the skipped generation. That also meant I was closest to mom than any of the others, but other than in mom’s eyes, I was the borne outcast.

Time for change

At about the age of 30, after all those years of emotional and physical abuse, which led to my own fairly-low self-esteem, I met a very attractive woman who virtually fell for me. She treated me differently than anyone else ever had, which in turn had a very positive effect on my own well-being.

In just less than a year, driven by Julie’s desire to establish a solid future together, we were married. And with that, I began the next chapter of my life, with the most psychotic sociopath I would ever know. Bipolar, borderline schizophrenic, and dangerously vengeful — all verified when I found her psychological evaluation, twelve years later.

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The Accidental Discovery :: My Sibling is a Sociopath
PART 1: Events Leading up to the First Red Flag.

He consistently scored in the top 1% in both science and mathematics, and the top 10% is just about everything else. DK had read more books by the time he hit middle school than I’ve read in my entire life. And in sixth grade, he was invited to attend our state university’s Saturday School for the Gifted.

It was about the time he started middle school, when I noticed his friends were not coming around as they had. I casually asked on multiple occasions, but each time he avoided any real discussion about it, and I saw no reason to push it … at least not with him.

Considering his personality type, I suspected he had been targeted by bullies, and that was eventually confirmed.

After the school’s ongoing denials about the bully problem — except for one brave teacher — another incident occurred in March, 2003, that had been witnessed by a volunteer (parent) on lunch duty. It would be tough for them to continue to deny it.

The biggest shock was when school administers implied the fault was his (i.e., the victim), and he should get help. It was a Tuesday, and I told his counselor that I would be taking him out of school for at least the remainder of the week, and hopefully more, while he and I considered our options.

Next, Part 2 shows what a red flag looks like …

Target Audience :: Anyone interested in learning more about those with the personality disorders, commonly referred to as sociopaths. More specifically: those who are suspicious of someone they’ve known for a very long time, such as a member of the family. This may help identify the signs and to avoid making the mistakes I made — mistakes that led to my character being destroyed, and becoming a pariah.

Each school day in the US, approximately 160,000 kids do not go to school for fear of being bullied. [Source: CDC]

Could a Teen Bully be a Young Sociopath in Training?

I know the life history of two sociopaths, one currently in her early-50s, and the other in her late-50s. In both cases, I believe it’s safe to say they were born with personality disorders. As young children and teens, they were already acting out unpolished characteristics of a sociopath, as it would still require experience for them to hone their narcissistic, manipulating and maliciously-deceptive skills.

Both of these individuals exhibited clear warning signs while they were still minors, even though each displayed them in very different ways. In neither case, did their behavior draw any intervention. So it may be safe to say that it would not necessarily be a simple process to identify young people with one of the sociopathic disorders.

Then again, do we have our eyes open?

THE BULLY SYNDROME  NOW PLAYING AT SCHOOLS EVERYWHERE

As I began looking into the problem of student harassment, a friend of mine gave me the name of a clinical psychologist, Dr. Bob, PhD [not his real name], who’s entire life’s work is focussed on school-aged individuals. He is the full-time, Lead Psychologist at the largest school district in the state (by enrollment), and also maintains a ongoing calendar on the lecture circuit.

Dr. Bob’s focus is in discussing the seriousness of the Bully Syndrome, how to identify those involved and take the appropriate action. He is called on to address administrators, counselors, and teachers in school districts nationwide. Getting targeted by a bully is one of the leading causes of teen suicide.

I took a chance and simply called him at his home number one evening, and he gave me over an hour of his time. I found him to be an exceptionally passionate man about what our kids face everyday in school. As Dr. Bob explained, there are three categories that kids fall into in regards to the Bully Syndrome.

1) The Bully :: First, of course, is the Bully. His or her agenda is fairly clear, as they are troubled youths, needing attention, getting it by intimidation, and assembling a following.

2) The Target :: The second is the selected Target, i.e., the victim, someone that the bully chooses who will not be a threat to them. Hence, behind that invincible and confident exterior, the bully is actually a coward.

3) The Bystanders :: And lastly, are all the Bystanders, many of whom had friends of the selected Target. What happens next will be determined by the bystanders.

As a group, the bystanders hold all the power. Unfortunately, they rarely think of themselves as a group. They are afraid. Scared to speak up. Afraid that they will become the next target. What they don’t realize is if they all walked over and stood along side the selected target, the bully would be forced to retreat, and probably not return.

According to Dr. Bob, one national study concluded that the majority of bystanders end up making the decision to join the bully. And as simple as that, they abandon their friend, and to gain favor in the eyes of the bully, they join in and also bully their now ex-friend.

Boys tend to be more outright physically hostile, though physical attacks are not beyond their female counterparts. But the goal is the same: they terrorize their selected target, and thereby alienating them from virtually everyone else. No one wants to risk becoming a target, so before long, that target couldn’t feel much more alone, rejected as a complete outcast, and even despised.

The psychological damage inflicted on that individual could literally change that person’s life. And to think this all began with one, control-hungry bully. One person showing no remorse for terrorizing an innocent individual so as to inflate their own feeling of control and importance.  

Beginning to sound familiar?

I was bullied a generation ago.

It surely seems that little has changed over 40 years. If you believe that bullying only happens in inner-city, public schools, it’s time to take the blinders off. If you say it doesn’t happen in your kid’s school, because you checked and the school has an unblemished record, that’s the entire goal of a cover-up.

I grew up in a fairly affluent area of northern California, and attended Catholic schools. As it’s fairly common knowledge, parents who did a poor job of creating a solid foundation for their kids, resulting in uncontrollable and troubled older kids (and the parents are clueless why), often send their kids to private school to “straighten them up.”

I had a bully so obsessed with me, that when he discovered I was accepted at a prep school for my first year in high school, he got his parents to somehow switch him to my prep school. He was so messed up, that he would play the loyal friend to me, then move into terror mode with no reason, other than his own ego. I changed schools for my sophomore year, and had to keep it a complete secret from everyone, otherwise he would have found out. We were successful, as he was unaware until the first day of classes. I wish I could have seen his face.

In any event, of the few who bullied me, not one was ever punished.

My son lost all his friends in middle school.

My son’s good friends, ones he knew since pre-school, and lived in our neighborhood, were the ones who slowly quit coming over, as they had all joined the bully. My son withdrew. More and more, there was less and less of him that I recognized. But still, he would not talk about it. He was made to feel ashamed.

I had a meeting with his teachers, and when I posed the direct question to them, they looked at each other, obviously stating a silent, “Bully problem? What bully problem?” … and they all claimed ignorance.  All, that is, except one.

After all the other teachers finished shrugging their shoulders, one lone teacher spoke-up and said she currently had two boys serving time in after-school detention for harassing my son. I saw her as being brave, as I could tell she felt some trepidation, stating, in front of her colleagues, she knew it was occurring and she took action.

Just like with me, a full generation earlier, no one was disciplined, as mandated by the state, for bullying my son.

State laws mandate bully discipline.

According to Dr. Bob, there is a state law which contains specific mandatory disciplinary guidelines for all school administrators in dealing with school bullies.

1 :: First Offense … one-day, in-school suspension.

2 :: Second Offense … one-week, off-campus suspension.

3 :: Third Offense … expulsion.

Those who are expelled are sent to the district’s remedial school, and that’s where they stay. It just so happened that Dr. Bob’s wife was a special education teacher at the remedial school in my son’s district.

He asked me to take a guess how many kids were expelled because of bullying … “that’s right,” he said, “exactly none, as in zero.” That covers an entire school district — and not even one bully?

Can you begin to see the depth of the cover-up?

My son had been bullied for a year and a half when I pulled him out of that school, and except for that one teacher, the others claimed ignorance. That remedial school, by the way, is occupied primarily by kids who were caught smoking, cutting class, being belligerent to teachers … but none were there for the harassment of other students.

It looks bad for school administrators if their school shows a bully problem. The bully’s methods are quite similar: though boys tend to be more physically aggressive, girls can be quite violent, too. And both males and females lean towards the victim’s psychological destruction (i.e., terror), using malicious, character assassination.

Do we completely miss the warning signs?

Consider this:  a pre- or early-teen bully could easily be a young sociopath, becoming familiar with, and honing his or her newfound skills. That’s when they are so easy to identify, and have the best chance for a successful intervention. But as our society continues to build more prisons, we continue to let the bad guys slip right into the real world … and then wait for them to do something bad. Hurt someone. We are going to lose a generation.

So when they are finally caught and convicted of doing the unspeakable, the six-o’clock news will carry the typical sound bites, “I can’t believe it” … “he was always so polite” … “I saw her at service every weekend” … “I just don’t understand.”  Of course you don’t … but thank goodness those school administrators can still sleep at night.

It’s a huge, deceptive cover-up against the public trust, but primarily to protect their jobs, their personal finances, and their own fat behinds.

And what do those in charge, the school administrators, consider to be a fair trade-off for their own job security?  Only our children … those same innocent kids they vow to foster, teach and help mold, all in a safe, learning environment.

The school administrators establish hidden guidelines, rules apparently to hide their school’s true and unchecked environment of student-on-student intimidation. Remember, factoring in the entire district, the statistics from the remedial school indicate that not one of the schools has a bully problem.

Is this not blatant fraud against the public’s trust?

How many people are in on it, and who are they accountable to?

All this sends a clear message to those young predators … their risk of getting busted is: “exactly none, as in zero.”

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ADDENDUM: In March of 2003, a volunteer lunch monitor at my son’s middle school observed a group of boys who were standing in a small circle, while becoming louder by laughing and taunting whoever was in the center. She went over to clear the boys, only to discover my son at the center, blocked from leaving, gripping his T-shirt collar and twisting it. The woman brought my son to the counseling center, who then called me. I arrived in less than 30-minutes.

I was told that my son had a problem and I should get help for him. After a year an a half of their denials of any bullying against my son, they now determined that my son was the problem … a very intelligent and quiet young man. I was appalled, and told them I’d be taking him out of the school through at least the end of the week, and during that time, hope to make a determination of his future.

To make a long story short*, I made arrangements for him to finish the school year (about 3 months) living at my sister’s home in another state. When I returned to the school to sign all the paperwork, I got to the one line which asked: Reason for Withdrawal?

The answer had already been filled in: Moving out of state.

I began to believe they had no shame in blatantly continuing the cover-up.

*To follow the full story, please begin with: One Small Lie … Part 1

Related Posts:
Discovering Your Best Friend is a Sociopath
How do you spot a sociopath?
Identifying a Sociopath
AUDIO: Evidence by Recording Phone Calls :: Part 1 [multi-part]
Do School Administrators Help Young Sociopaths?
One Small Lie = One Huge Revelation :: Part 1 [multi-part]