Behaviour, Trauma and Empathy: Lessons from Ed Gein’s Story

Trigger Warning:

This post discusses real-life trauma, mental illness, and criminal behaviour that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised.

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Like many people, I occasionally unwind by binge-watching a Netflix series — but this weekend’s choice, Ed Gein: The Real Monster, left me feeling more unsettled than entertained.

What began as morbid curiosity quickly became something deeper. As I watched, I was horrified by the crimes, but gradually I began to feel something else: empathy. Not for what Ed Gein did — those acts were indefensible — but for why he did them, and how his mind became the landscape of his own horror story.

Charlie Hunnam’s portrayal of Gein was hauntingly fantastic. Through his performance, the audience glimpses a man whose reality had fractured beyond recognition. His confusion at others’ reactions, his lack of understanding that his actions were “wrong,” and his conversations with imaginary figures all painted the picture of a man lost within his own mind. When he was finally diagnosed with schizophrenia, it felt less like a revelation and more like tragic confirmation.

And that’s where my empathy began to creep in — uncomfortably so. Because beneath the monstrous acts was a damaged brain and a lifetime of trauma. His mother’s relentless condemnation of women, her use of fear and punishment to control him, and the isolation she enforced all laid the groundwork for a warped relationship with morality, identity, and attachment. In other words, aversive conditioning on a human scale.

When we repeatedly use fear, punishment, and control to shape behaviour — whether in humans or animals — we risk creating trauma bonds, not understanding. Gein’s relationship with his mother became one of deep devotion intertwined with fear and shame. It’s a disturbing but poignant reminder of how the things we fear most can become the very things we’re drawn to when our emotional compass is broken by trauma.

As Gein was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, I'll admit, I cried for him. Not for his deplorable actions, but for the confusion he felt upon hearing things about himself he didn't recognise, and for the harsh realisation he faced upon hearing that his reality wasn't in fact, real.

Watching his story unfold, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own relief upon receiving a diagnosis that finally explained the way my brain works (ADHD). It didn’t excuse my struggles, but it helped me understand them. That moment of validation — that I wasn’t broken, just wired differently — gave me the compassion to extend that same understanding to others, even those society calls monsters.

As a behaviour professional, I see echoes of this in dogs more often than people realise. Trauma, neglect, or harsh training methods can leave deep psychological scars. A dog that reacts aggressively may not be “bad” or “defiant” — it may simply be responding to an emotional wound. The same brain mechanisms that drive human fear, attachment, and defence also exist in our dogs.

When we label a dog as “naughty” or “untrainable,” we stop asking the right questions. Instead, we should ask:

• What is this dog feeling right now?

• What past experience might this reaction be rooted in?

• How can I change the environment, not just the behaviour?

• And how do my own reactions influence theirs?

Each of these questions shifts us from judgment to empathy. It’s not about excusing behaviour — it’s about understanding it, and from that understanding, helping it heal.

Ed Gein’s story is a horrifying one, but it also serves as a stark reminder of the power of early environment, the impact of trauma, and the human need for connection and validation.

His life is a cautionary tale of what happens when empathy and understanding are absent — and a call to action for all of us who work with behaviour, human or animal, to ensure that compassion always leads the way.

Because sometimes, the monsters we see are simply mirrors reflecting what happens when pain goes unheard for too long.

Until next time

Michelle x

Written by Michelle Walker, Clinical Animal Behaviourist and Founder of EpiphanyK9 Behaviour & Training.

Michelle helps dogs and their humans rebuild trust and confidence through empathy, education, and evidence-based training. Her work focuses on understanding the “why” behind behaviour — because every reaction tells a story, and every story deserves compassion.