52 pages • 1 hour read
A. R. TorreA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Given that The Good Lie centers prominently on a criminal investigation of a serial killer, traditional legal proceedings play an important role in the effort to enact justice. However, through the actions of key characters, The Good Lie examines the tension between traditional forms of justice and the more visceral, immediate, and often violent attempts at revenge that characterize individual acts of vigilantism. To this end, Torre focuses on Robert Kavin’s own quest for justice for his late son Gabe, establishing this compulsion as the driving force behind his many bold actions, from his decision to represent Randall Thomspon in court to his decision to kill John Abbott, the real Bloody Heart Killer. However, the vigilante mindset is not limited to Robert, for when Gwen learns of his act of murder, she lies to Detective Saxe and maintains that John died by suicide. Although the narrative concedes that an enraged, violent reaction would be an understandable response for a parent dealing with the loss of their child, the traditional justice system punishes murder regardless of the circumstances. Thus, Gwen’s lie strays into morally ambiguous territory as she protects Robert from the consequences of his retribution against his son’s killer.
Ironically, Robert’s profession as a defense attorney complicates his relationship with the concept of justice, for he regularly defends criminals whom he knows to be guilty. At one point, Detective Saxe points this out, referencing one of Robert’s clients, who received “a bullshit plea deal” even though the man had killed his wife (133). This complicated notion of justice is also explored through Robert’s defense of Randall Thompson in the Bloody Heart Killer case; although Randall is innocent of the Bloody Heart Killer crimes, he is nonetheless a sexual predator who raped and sexually assaulted several female students over the course of his career. Robert confirms this but brushes off these accusations of rape by characterizing Randall as being no more than “a little creepy” (191). Though convicting him for the Bloody Heart Killer murders is unjust in the eyes of the law, Brooke Abbott’s intentional framing of Randall is an attempt at enacting justice for crimes that went unpunished for decades, and Robert actively thwarts this plan. In The Good Lie, the individual quest for justice is neither maligned nor endorsed. Instead, it is presented as an imperfect, messy attempt to right a wrong when it seems that the justice system has failed to do so.
Before the events of the novel, the lives of six teenage boys are taken by the Bloody Heart killer, including Rob Kavin’s son Gabe. Thus, Robert’s grief is central to the novel and drives him to take on Randall Thompson as a client despite the conflict of interest; he is convinced of Randall’s innocence and is determined to ensure that his son’s real killer is discovered. However, as Gwen points out, Robert’s guilt consumes him and causes him to obsess over the Bloody Heart Killer cases and his son’s death, retraumatizing himself by personally reviewing Gabe’s case files and the accompanying photos. Gwen suggests that Robert is dealing with his guilt in an unhealthy way by throwing himself into his work rather than allowing himself time to heal. Gwen and Robert talk more openly about grief when Robert discusses his wife’s death and Gabe’s murder and acknowledges that the grief of losing a child is mingled with a sense of guilt—the feeling that he has failed to protect his child from danger.
In contrast to Robert’s unresolved anguish, Gwen’s relationship to grief and guilt manifests a bit differently, for rather than distracting herself from her negative feelings as Robert does, she almost revels in self-punishment. Early in the book, when Gwen goes to the bar after attending John’s funeral, she admits to misusing alcohol as a way to “atone” for her failure to report John to the authorities. She sees her perceived negligence as a therapist as something that must be punished, but because she refuses to openly admit to her oversight, the only way she can punish herself is by clinging to her negative thoughts and feelings. This sentiment is reflected at the end of the novel as well, when Gwen and Robert again meet in a bar, for she admits that she “rather like[s] cradling [her] sorrows” (244). Rather than taking the path of self-forgiveness and healing, she takes the “well of emotion” as it comes (244), embracing it as a part of the human experience.
Gwen’s struggle between maintaining patient confidentiality and intervening or speaking up when a patient may be a danger to themselves or others is a core part of her character arc over the course of the novel. Similarly, Robert’s profession presents its own ethical implications. Thus, through the two central characters, The Good Lie explores the delicate balance between remaining true to personal duty and operating within the bounds of professional obligations.
Throughout the novel, Gwen is hesitant to tell the police about John’s obsessions and violent fantasies for fear of breaching patient confidentiality. Psychiatrists and other mental health professionals are bound by a code of ethics, which dictates that they must not reveal anything discussed in therapy sessions with anyone else—with one notable exception. If the patient appears to be an imminent danger to themselves or others, a mental health professional is required by law (in most states) to report the threat. During her sessions with John, Gwen notes clear signs that he might very well harm his wife, but she does not report this information, even after John and Brooke’s deaths. She is unwilling to cooperate with the police because she does not want to turn over his case file and violate his privacy, even in death, and she also operates on a more selfish motivation to avoid exposing her practice to investigation.
Gwen’s struggle between confidentiality and transparency drives her guilt in the wake of Jon and Brooke Abbott’s deaths, and this guilt is exacerbated when she discovers John’s true identity as the Bloody Heart Killer and acknowledges the indirect role that she may have played in the death of Robert’s son. Robert is upset that Gwen did not take action to mitigate John’s violent nature, but by his own admission, he adheres to the same principles of client confidentiality in his profession as a defense attorney. Thus, the novel also addresses the ethical implications of Robert Kavin’s profession. At one point, Rob and Gwen debate the moral implications of their respective professions. Like Gwen’s struggle between maintaining patient confidentiality and being transparent in order to prevent future crimes or solve existing crimes, Robert’s role as a defense attorney involves representing clients whose actions are often morally reprehensible. In Robert’s case, this means defending people whom he knows are guilty of crimes, and in Gwen’s case, this involves keeping her patients’ confidences even when they confess to crimes or criminal intent.
The central protagonist of The Good Lie, Dr. Gwen Moore, is a psychiatrist who is fascinated by the psychology of criminals and other people with violent tendencies or obsessions. Thus, through her point of view, the Bloody Heart murder case is presented as a psychological puzzle to solve, and the narrative portrays her observations of her patients and of the mysterious Bloody Heart Killer. The Good Lie thus analyzes the varied motives for violence and presents criminal psychology as a complex phenomenon that falls into distinct patterns. However, although the narrative provides a thoughtful and nuanced discussion on this topic, the author’s descriptions sometimes become problematic, for the narrative sometimes perpetuates unfair social stigmas and harmful stereotypes against individuals who have certain mental health conditions, presenting a skewed perspective for public consumption.
Despite these occasional difficulties, The Good Lie generally depicts criminal psychology as complex and varied, lending empathy to characters who act out their past traumas through violence, and the narrative refrains from either justifying or excusing their actions. Gwen’s fascination with the field offers a glimpse into the nuances of psychoanalytic theory and its role in mapping violent or criminal behavior. Gwen notes at several points that violent fantasies are not as uncommon as people might believe. To some extent, she sees violent urges as normal, though only a small fraction of people ever act on these thoughts. She even presents an unpopular theory that married people in particular are likely to have violent thoughts toward their spouses, “secretly wish[ing]” that they would die. Gwen makes these points to assert that her patients, who are largely violent offenders who have committed violent crimes or confess to the desire to do so, are not so different from the general population. This perspective allows her to have empathy for her patients; she understands that their choice to seek psychiatric help shows that they recognize the need to change this part of themselves. She states her philosophy about her patients early on in a conversation with Robert, saying, “I don’t see them as vile. I see them as human. […] If they’re in my office, it’s because they are trying to fix that part of them” (58).
Through Gwen’s point of view, the novel explores the various psychological motivations behind criminal behavior. In her profile of the Bloody Heart Killer, she correctly identifies the core motivation behind the killings, realizing that the killer has been acting out his past trauma and using sexual violence as a form of control. Gwen draws upon psychoanalytic theory, specifically the psychodynamic theory of criminology. This theory posits that criminal behavior stems from an underdeveloped ego and superego, which is caused by negative or traumatic experiences during a person’s formative years. Her psychological inferences when constructing her psychological profile are largely accurate, with the exception of her suspicion that the killer has paranoid schizophrenia or dissociative identity disorder.