Knowing the Truth When You Hear It

I have always believed there is a certain resonance to truth. In my years working across investigations, criminal profiling, and in the courtroom, I have come to recognise that truth, when spoken, carries a weight that fabrication never quite manages. It is not always the loudest voice in the room, nor the most confident speaker, but truth has a rhythm, a consistency, and at times, a simplicity that cannot be disguised.

This recognition is not about mysticism. It is grounded in countless hours of interviews, victim statements, cross examinations, and offender profiling. Time and again, the skill has been in listening, not merely to the words, but to what lies beneath them.

The Cadence of Truth in Investigation

When sitting across from a suspect, one quickly learns that lies are exhausting to maintain. Fabrications demand construction, scaffolding, and constant maintenance. The storyteller must remember their script, keep track of details, and ensure their narrative aligns with what they think you already know.

Truth, on the other hand, is not burdened by invention. A truthful account flows more naturally. The witness may falter, they may struggle to recall an exact time or sequence, but the core remains firm. Small inconsistencies are often a sign of authenticity rather than deceit. It is the overly rehearsed, perfectly packaged statement that deserves the most suspicion.

I recall one interview where a suspect’s story was immaculate on paper, precise, rehearsed, almost theatrical. Yet, every sentence felt hollow. Compare this to a victim whose recollection was fragmented, emotional, at times contradictory, but at the heart of it, the pain was palpable. That rawness was the marker of truth.

Profiling and the Psychology of Deception

Criminal profiling is not fortune telling; it is about recognising behavioural patterns. When it comes to truth and deception, patterns are crucial. Offenders, particularly repeat ones, often betray themselves not by what they say, but by what they cannot help revealing.

A deceptive individual may avoid direct answers, redirect questions, or overcompensate with unnecessary detail. There is a rhythm to deception: either the words race ahead, trying to bury the truth under a flood of information, or they drag, with pauses that betray the mental effort of construction.

Victims, by contrast, rarely seek to impress or persuade. Their accounts often reflect lived experience rather than performance. A victim who falters, contradicts themselves, or even doubts their own memory is, paradoxically, often more credible than the one who delivers a perfect narrative. Trauma scrambles recollection, the brain prioritises survival over chronology, and recognising this is essential for investigators, lawyers, and jurors alike.

Law, Justice, and the Sound of Truth

In the courtroom, truth can be obscured by strategy. Lawyers construct arguments, highlight details favourable to their case, and attempt to erode the opposing side’s credibility. But I have found that when truth is spoken, whether by a victim, a witness, or even an offender finally unburdening themselves, it cuts through the artifice.

Judges and juries alike often describe a moment of knowing. It is not about the elegance of language, but about the undeniable clarity of authenticity. The law may be a system of rules, but justice relies on our collective ability to hear, recognise, and value truth when it emerges.

The Victim’s Voice

Perhaps the most profound lessons come from victims. Their truths are often the hardest to tell and the easiest to doubt. Society, and even parts of the criminal justice system, has historically been quick to dismiss them for inconsistencies or lack of evidence.

But in sitting with victims, listening beyond the words, one comes to understand the nature of truth in trauma. It is fragmented, emotional, sometimes chaotic, but unmistakable. I have sat with individuals who could barely articulate their experiences, yet every fibre of their being testified to what they had endured.

For me, the greatest injustice is not when a liar escapes, but when a truth-teller is disbelieved. That is why honing the skill of hearing truth, of recognising its resonance even amidst confusion, is not just useful; it is a moral obligation for all of us who work in law and justice.

My Theory: Truth Has a Frequency

My working theory, drawn from years in this field, is that truth carries a frequency. Not in a mystical sense, but as a psychological and behavioural constant. When people tell the truth, their words, emotions, and behaviours align, perhaps imperfectly, but with a natural cohesion. When people lie, they fracture. The words may say one thing, but the body betrays another. The story may sound neat, but the emotional undertones do not match.

The task of the investigator, profiler, lawyer, or judge is to attune themselves to that frequency. It is not about catching people out with clever tricks, but about listening deeply, resisting the temptation to be swayed by performance, and recognising the quiet, sometimes messy, but undeniable sound of truth.

Conclusion

Knowing the truth when you hear it is less a skill you can read from a manual and more a craft honed through lived experience. It requires patience, humility, and an unwavering respect for those who entrust you with their stories.

In criminal investigation, in profiling, in the courtroom, and above all in listening to victims, the ability to hear truth is what separates justice from miscarriage. My own journey has shown me that while lies are many and varied, truth remains singular. And when you hear it, truly hear it, you will know.