Mind of a Serial Killer - The Unabomber Pt. 1

Episode Date: March 30, 2026

Explore the origins of Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, in this deep dive into the psychology behind one of America’s most infamous domestic terrorists. From his troubled childhood, social isolation, and controversial Harvard psychological study to his retreat into the Montana wilderness, Vanessa and Dr. Engels examine how a math prodigy became radicalized against technology and industrial society. What turns a gifted genius into a serial bomber — and what warning signs were missed along the way? If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Serial Killers & Murderous Minds to never miss a case! For ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Serial Killers & Murderous Minds is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios 🎧 Need More to Binge?  Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Murder True Crime Stories, Crime House 24/7, and more wherever you get your podcasts! Follow me on Social Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios YouTube: @crimehousestudios To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This is Crime House. We all feel the need to voice our opinions, to share our ideas, our beliefs, and the way we see the world. For most people, that expression goes like you'd expect. We talk to others, write in a journal, or post on social media. But sometimes the need to be heard becomes consuming, and some might go to extreme lengths to spread their message.

For Ted Kaczynski, also known as the U.S. Unabomber, it wasn't enough to simply share his ideas. Ted needed to force them upon the rest of the world, even if it meant becoming the nation's most notorious domestic terrorist. The human mind is powerful. It shapes how we think, feel, love, and hate. But sometimes it drives people to commit the unthinkable. This is serial killers and murderous minds, a crimehouse original. I'm Vanessa Richardson. And I'm forensic psychologist.

Dr. Tristan Engels. Every Monday and Thursday, we uncover the darkest minds in history, analyzing what makes a killer. Crime House is made possible by you. Please rate, review, and follow serial killers and murderous minds. To enhance your listening experience with ad-free, early access to each two-part series and bonus content, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. Before we get started, be advised this episode contains descriptions of violence and psychological abuse, so please listen with care.

Today we start our deep dive on Ted Kaczynski, the math genius turned domestic terrorist who sent homemade explosives across the United States. In the process, Ted killed three people and injured many more, earning himself the infamous title, The Unabomber. As Vanessa goes through the story, I'll be talking about things like how a lack of autonomy as a child lead some offenders to withdraw from society, how extreme isolation can feed someone's violent tendencies, and how some criminals rationalize large-scale violence. And as always, we'll be asking the question, what makes a killer?

From the day he was born, Ted Kaczynski seemed destined for solitude. He was born in 1942 and raised in a working-class neighborhood outside Chicago. Growing up in the environment of World War II, many people valued family stability and social conformity as virtues. The Kaczynski's were no exception. Ted's parents, Wanda and Theodore, structured their daily lives around routine, discipline, and the belief that hard work would bring reward. They valued restraint and practicality, which was reflected in their quiet, carefully kept home.

Unfortunately, their fastidious lifestyles couldn't save them from everything. When Ted was just nine months old, he came down with a bad case of hives. He was hospitalized for weeks, and his parents weren't allowed to stay with him. In child development, we talk about critical periods and sensitive periods. A critical period is a narrow window when something has to happen for typical development to occur. Visual development is one of the most commonly cited examples of this, because the brain needs clear visual input early, in order to build the neural pathways responsible for processing site.

That period is critical. Without adequate stimulation, those pathways may not fully develop, and that affects visual functioning long term. Now, a sensitive period is different. That's the time when the brain is especially open to influence, and if something disruptive happens, it can have an impact, but there may be still room for repair. That's how it differs from a critical period.

Examples are language acquisition or attachment. This is a sensitive period for Tet. And nine months old, a baby doesn't have language yet, but they absolutely have attachment. Around that age, infants are forming bonds with their caregivers or their parents, and that can become distressed when separated. If a baby is hospitalized for weeks without parental contact, which was common at that time, actually, that can dysregulate their nervous system. They're too young to understand what's happening, why they're there, or why their parents

aren't with them. They just experience the absence. Also, object permanence is still developing in the first year of life. A child that age has limited ability to understand that a person still exists when they're not physically present. So prolonged separation might not feel temporary to a nine-month-old baby. Now, when stress responses are activated repeatedly during early development, especially during an illness like this, it can shape how the brain responds to stress later on. Research has shown that prolonged elevations and stress hormones like cortisol can influence how someone reacts to threat and how they form attachments later on.

So some children may become more anxious, some may become more withdrawn, and some learn to rely heavily on themselves. That said, many infants experienced medical separation in that era, and they did not grow up to become violent offenders. It's not causation, but it's definitely a disreferenced. during a very sensitive attachment window. So interesting. This reminds me of when people had kids in COVID during the time of COVID.

It's a little different because you could be with your little family bubble. This is, you know, he was obviously totally isolated. But in the event that an infant has to be isolated like this, what measures can be taken to ensure they develop in a normal, healthy way? The most protective factor in early development is responsive caregiving. And by that I mean, if a caregiver can't physically be present for whatever the reason is, then consistent sensory connection is the goal. So things like recorded voices, familiar objects with a caregiver's scent, visual contact whenever feasible,

and as much skin-to-skin contact as hospital policy allows, which they do now in most cases. We've come a long way since then. And once there's reunification, that consistency needs to continue. So holding them, making eye contact, soothing touch. infants need enough repeated experiences of comfort to reestablish safety. From there, it's important to monitor milestones and intervene if there are any signs of withdrawal, excessive irritability, or difficulty bonding. The good news is an infant's brain is highly plastic, meaning it's highly adaptable and it can be shaped by corrected experiences. Well, Wanda was concerned about how all the isolation would affect Ted as he grew older, and,

She was right to be worried. Ted recovered from his illness, but as he got older, it was clear that he struggled with socialization. He often kept to himself instead of playing outside with other kids in the neighborhood. And even though Wanda and Theodore had always emphasized self-control and self-sufficiency,

Ted's isolation took things to a new level. As a child, Ted's only real friend was his younger brother, David, who was seven years younger than him. The two became extremely close, as David got older. One of their favorite hobbies was going hiking with their dad on the weekends. Ted loved being surrounded by the vast wilderness, with no one but his father and little brother by his side. But as David got older and developed a more typical social life, Ted once again

found himself on the fringes. He found consolation in one thing, though, his extreme intelligence. From an early age, Ted was a star student. He finished school assignments with ease and passed all his tests with flying colors. His elementary school teachers were so impressed, they had him skip a grade. And when Ted took an IQ test, the results indicated that he was a genius. So we're starting to paint a bigger picture of Ted. If he's socially isolating, even if it appears to be by choice at this point, that it's possible he may have felt rejected or even overlooked by same-aged peers, and his intelligence may have played a role in that. Many gifted children have expressed feeling like they had little in common with their peers. So he may have

already felt different. And now he's being formally labeled as different. Skipping a grade can amplify that feeling too. Academically, it makes sense to move him up because it aligns with his cognitive ability. But socially and emotionally, it can create more social distance because now he's with older peers and he may feel out of sync developmentally and chronologically. I mean, there is a reason why he's only connecting with David, who's seven years younger than him. That can be difficult for children to navigate. Maturity differences between grades are very real, and they become even more pronounced when they're approaching adolescents. Also, a label like gifted can become part of their identity.

A child may come to believe that their value lies in their intelligence, or achievement is their primary source of validation. It can shape how a child sees, themselves and how they think others see them. And in Ted's case, if intelligence became the safest and most reliable part of his identity, that may have strengthened over time, especially as other forms of belonging, like with his peers, for example, began to feel less stable. Once Ted was put on the fast track, he couldn't get off of it. That's because in the post-war era, the U.S. invested heavily in science and engineering. The government provided funding to schools to identify quote-unquote gifted students, all with the goal of beating competitors like the Soviet Union.

This meant that young, brilliant minds like Ted's were treated as a resource, especially when it came to national defense. So when Ted made it to high school and continued to show promise, he skipped a grade again. His parents weren't so sure about it since he was already having trouble fitting in. They wanted their sons to lead normal, pleasant lives. But ultimately, the school, convinced them that if Ted prioritized academics over everything else, he'd be better off in the long run. Ted's parents were persuaded. From there, his school administrators enrolled him in more STEM classes, but even though he kept doing well academically, he only fell more behind socially. Ted was two years younger than his classmates and couldn't figure out how to fit in with them.

While others played sports and hung out on the weekends, he stayed home. His parents His parents tried to convince him to go out and make some friends, but he preferred to shut himself in his room and read a book. Eventually, though, Ted managed to bond with his peers. The other kids in his science class had always been intrigued by his sense of curiosity and knack for experimentation. So Ted used those traits to try and make friends. He'd learned how to combine simple materials

like batteries, wires, and potassium nitrate to create small explosions. One day, he showed the other kids kids how to do it. The makeshift bomb went off, and Ted's classmates ate it up. Unfortunately, the school administrators weren't as impressed. No one got hurt, but Ted was suspended for his stunt anyway. This is an extension of what we talked about earlier with regard to the risks of believing that value lies in their intelligence and achievement being their primary source of validation. Ted was encouraged to lean into science. He was identified as exceptional, placed into accelerated stem path, and told that experimentation and intellectual curiosity were strengths. That becomes part of

how he understands himself and his identity. And at this point, he's believing that this is what he's good at and this is where he belongs because that's what he's being told. And until now, he struggled to fit in. But when he finally starts to find his footing and he applies what he is taught, he gets approval from classmates, but punishment from authority figures. And that's confusing for someone like Ted. Without any clear explanation regarding what about that was wrong and why, like maybe how it's a safety risk for students perhaps, then that experience likely feels like rejection. And this time, it's from the people who've been telling him he's exceptional for years and for doing the very thing he's been told he's exceptional at. That's in. That's in terms.

inconsistent messaging and psychologically that can create resentment, mistrust, feeling misunderstood, or unsure, and especially without clear communication. How do you think this experience might have affected Ted in terms of his ability to make friends? Is it possible he would have felt like he'd tried the one thing he knew how to do and it just totally backfired? I think this may have been a pivotal moment for him and here's why. I mean, firstly, it makes sense that he used science as a way to connect. Like you said, That was an area where he felt competent and confident. If you're struggling socially, you tend to lead with what you know you can rely on, but also what you can connect with. This would have been that thing. And in that moment, it worked.

He received attention and approval from his peers and maybe for the first time. That validation mattered. It's something he's been looking for. But it also backfired. He was suspended. And he may have linked the two experiences. The very thing that helped him connect, also led to punishment.

That might have felt very personal to him, especially if being intelligent was his identity. That can push someone further into isolation. If the one strategy you feel capable of using to connect leads to discipline, then self-reliance starts to feel safer. And it's worth noting that his parents, like you mentioned earlier, Vanessa, they emphasized self-control and self-reliance or self-sufficiency to him very early on. In that environment, withdrawing rather than reattempting connection not only may have felt safer,

but it also likely felt consistent with what he'd been taught since he was very young. While Ted grappled with ideas about power, he didn't really have anyone to talk about it with, and it wouldn't be until after high school that he'd find a way to express himself. When Ted graduated in 1958, his future was clear. At just 16 years old, he was head. headed to Harvard University, where he planned to study mathematics. He quickly adapted to the academic level, but his age gap and poor social skills meant he was still pretty isolated.

Among the thousands of other students at Harvard, Ted still felt utterly alone. Most days he just went to class and returned quietly to his dorm room. He'd managed to form a few friendly acquaintances, people he shared meals with, but he usually listened more than he talked. This gave him a lot of time to observe his peers, and there was one thing he couldn't help but notice. Just like him, a lot of Ted's classmates had been forced onto the path toward high-tech innovation, and because of that, their whole lives were laid out ahead of them, but they'd never asked for any of it. At times, Ted felt like he wanted to scream. So much

of his life had been decided by others. He didn't even care about technological advancements. In fact, he believed technology was the scourge of the Earth, that it was killing the planet and killing people's mental health. He fantasized about running off into the wilderness alone and leaving it all behind. Then one day in the fall of 1959, Ted found something that would change his life forever. The psychology department was running a study on how gifted young men responded to stress. They were asking male students to sign up. Ted didn't know the details of what the study would involve, but he knew. knew it was being run by senior Harvard psychologist Dr. Henry Murray, who was well known and

respected. Plus, it only required a few hours of his time each week, and it was paid. Ted thought the study could be beneficial for him. Maybe he'd meet like-minded peers if he got more involved with the psychology department. Maybe he'd even form a connection with a renowned researcher, one who wasn't focused solely on technological advancement. So Ted signed up, and pretty soon he was accepted. He was eager to see what doors the study might open for him. However, Ted had no idea that the goal of the study wasn't just to assess his mind, but to push it to its limits. This episode is brought to you by FedEx. These days, the power move isn't having a big metallic credit card to drop on the check at a corporate lunch. The real power move is leveling up your

business with FedEx intelligence and accessing one of the biggest data networks powered by one of the biggest delivery networks. Level up your business with FedEx, the new power move. In 1959, 17-year-old Ted Kaczynski enrolled in a psychological study at Harvard University. The goal was to assess how extremely intelligent young men, like those at Harvard, responded to stress. It was run by a top psychology researcher and professor, Dr. Henry Murray. Ted wasn't just flattered at the thought of being considered exceptional. He also hoped to bond with his peers along the way. This was likely very significant for Ted because he's been searching for belonging in connection and in some ways and new identity outside of just being a genius. Being invited into a psychological study at Harvard

may have felt like formal recognition of that, not just that he was intelligent, but that he was worthy of being studied or included and taken seriously. At that age, especially after skipping grades and feeling chronologically out of sync with his peers, being included in something prestigious like this might have reinforced the idea that he does fit among thinkers and academics and people who value intellect. And most of all, this was voluntary. It wasn't something he was forced into. It wasn't something that someone decided for him. It was something that he sought out. He sought out and he chose for himself. He was exercising agency over his life, perhaps for the very first time. So knowing that the study focused on the young men's stress responses, what sort of red flags or

concerns come to mind for you, Dr. Engels? Okay, so well, you know, first off, it's the 1950s, and there are a few concerns that come to mind given that era. The ethical standards back then were so different than they are today, informed consent, transparency about procedures, and protection from psychological harm were not regulated the way that they are today. I mean, like you said, Ted doesn't really even understand what he's signing up for. Does he know the risks? The other thing that stands out to me is the framing of this study. They're recruiting people who are, quote, exceptional. They are establishing a baseline there to which they are testing against. I don't yet know the parameters of the study, but if they are systematically placing

undue stress directly on the part of the self that participants like Ted feel is most stable or that they're most confident about themselves, then that's a red flag because that could cause harm. There's also the matter of his age. He's 17 and yes, he's in Harvard. He's still an adolescent and technically a legal minor. Is he even legally able to sign up without a inherent back then. Also, even if he's cognitively advanced, which he is, and we know this, it's documented, his emotional regulation skills are still forming. His stress response is not going to be the same as someone over the age of 25, regardless of his intellect. So those are some of the red flags and the concerns that initially popped out at me, but I guarantee that there would be

more if I actually saw the methods and the actual intention of the study. Well, it may have seemed exciting, but Ted, he had no idea what was in store for him. He entered a classroom where he sat down with about 20 other male students. A research assistant told them their first assignment was to write a brief essay about how they viewed the world and about their own personal philosophies. The essay prompt was pretty broad, and Ted let his ideas flow, expressing his resentment towards science, technology, and industrial society. After everyone finished their essays, they were called into a separate room one by one. Ted waited patiently, and once his name was called, he entered a stark, brightly lit room. Dr. Murray sat on one side of the room. A man in a black suit and tie,

who Ted didn't recognize, stood next to him. Ted took a seat across from the two men. Then research assistants started attaching electrodes to him so they could monitor his heart rate. Ted fixed his gaze on Dr. Murray and the other man, who seemed to be the only one who didn't mind the harsh lighting. When the assistants finished with the electrodes, Ted noticed a video camera set up in the corner of the room. Before he could say anything, Dr. Murray cut him off. He said he'd read Ted's essay and thought it was good, but the team had some questions. Suddenly, the other man took over. He walked over to Ted and loomed over him before launching into a series of harsh criticisms on his essay. He demanded that Ted defend his ideas. But when Ted tried to respond, the man mocked him.

He made fun of the way Ted spoke, and even his appearance. He called him naive and childish. Ted kept trying to defend himself, but he couldn't find the words. So the man continued. His insults became more cruel until Ted felt himself shrinking. For someone already unsure of his place in the world, the experience cut deep. He reminded himself this was part of the study, so even though he left the session shaken up, he came back the next week and the week after that. Over the next three years, he spent nearly 200 hours in the study. He wrote essays and endured repeated interrogations, but no one ever told him any of the results or even the study's true purpose. Nowadays, research requires informed consent, like I mentioned, but also debriefing.

Participants are told what the study involves and they're given context afterward. Back then, that wasn't the standard. And as a result, there was real psychological harm occurring here, especially when you consider how Ted likely viewed Dr. Murray. Dr. Murray was a prestigious authority figure. And not only was Ted receiving harsh criticism and humiliation, free. as methodology in a study, but because of who Dr. Murray was and what he represented to Ted, he likely trusted him, and therefore compliance felt necessary or questioning it might have felt

inappropriate. Dr. Murray is the trusted adult and the expert. Ted repeatedly encountered environments where his intelligence was tested, challenged, or tied somehow to evaluation. first with school and the STEM track and now here. That can reinforce that his value is something that he has to demonstrate under pressure. And again, I want to highlight the framing of the study. If you recruit participants by telling them that you're studying exceptionally intelligent young men and their stress responses, that can implicitly suggest that intelligence is being challenged. And for someone like Ted, that's tied to their identity, that can also feel like an

evaluation in itself. Like, they want to see how exceptional you really are under pressure. That creates performance pressure before the study even begins and that he now has to prove his value by enduring what the study does to him. So the harm isn't just in the criticism or the humiliation because it certainly is, but it's also the setup. And the idea that your status as exceptional is something you now have to somehow defend. Nearly 200 hours in over three years is a long time. How does prolonged stress differ from, say, a single traumatic event? Great question. A single traumatic event is considered acute. In acute traumatic events, the body has a stress response, and afterward the brain might replay that event, avoid reminders, or remain hypervigilant. But often, the distress is tied to something

specific. Prolong stress is different. It isn't one overwhelming moment. It's repeated activation of the stress response over time. Three years is prolonged. The body stays in a sustained state of tension or anticipation. And when that happens, stress hormones like cortisol remain elevated longer than they should, and the sympathetic nervous system is activated more frequently. When it's prolonged, that contributes to increased reactivity, mistrust, and a tendency to interpret neutral stimuli as threatening. So essentially, prolonged stress can shift someone's baseline, meaning instead of the threat response activating only when danger is actually present, their system becomes more easily triggered by things that might not even be dangerous, but they're misinterpreting as such.

Their brain is adapting to a world it has learned to experience as constantly and consistent. persistently stressful. Well, over the years, the study wore Ted down. However, he didn't tell anyone about the toll it had taken on him. No one knew he'd been subjected to prolonged abuse and that it fed something dark within him. Since he didn't tell his family what he'd endured, they kept encouraging him on his current path. By early 1962, he'd passed all his final exams and was preparing to graduate at just 20 years. old. But Ted despised the thought of being confined to academia. More than ever, all he wanted was to start

a new life, to live off the land, rely solely on himself, and be under no one's control. But he had to put that dream on hold, because the government was drafting young men into the Vietnam War, which Ted staunchly opposed, and the only way for him to avoid it was to pursue another degree. So after getting his master's at the University of Michigan, he stayed on to get a PhD in math. A couple of things I want to touch on here. Starting with why Ted kept what was happening to him in the study to himself, aside from what we've already covered with regard to his views about this study and the possibility he felt the need to be compliant for identity and validation, he might have been afraid to say anything. He volunteered to be there. If he told his parents

what he was enduring while in that study, they likely would have had him removed, and that would have taken away his agency. If he wanted to leave, he would. At the same time, he might not have fully understood what was happening to him was in fact harmful to him. It's not uncommon for people experiencing abuse to be unaware of it in the moment. But he was destabilized from it, like you said, it took a toll on him, and I think that was also impacted by how isolated he was. He had no one else reminding him of his value after spending years being cut down and humiliated. That's extremely disempowering. But he trusted the process because of who ran it and where, and he chose the study for himself,

which brings us to the next issue. He's once again feeling forced into academia to avoid being drafted into Vietnam, and after just setting a goal to live a life for, himself away from others living off the land under no one's control. Now he's faced with two choices, be controlled by the U.S. military or controlled by academia. Both are institutions. In his perspective, he was in a lose-lose conflict. Psychologically, repeated experiences of constrained choice can heighten sensitivity to autonomy, and we know he's had repeated experiences like this. So some individuals respond by adapting, others begin organizing their identity around resisting control altogether.

In general, what mental and emotional risks are associated with someone making a life decision that's the lesser of two evils instead of seeking help and just exploring other options? I think for starters, it's important to highlight that Ted is clearly making this choice under pressure and in normal circumstances that's stressful and stress narrows thinking. It activates threat-based processing, which can reduce just the flexibility of your thoughts and how you think. Instead of exploring other options, he's focusing on escaping the worst option. That can lead to reactive decisions rather than intentional ones. And when we consider how much stress he had been under for the last three years in the study, how his stress responses had been tested. How his stress responses had

been tested in harmful ways and how he's been enduring this alone, not telling anybody this entire time, it's no wonder that he didn't consider alternative options or even attempt to brainstorm with others before choosing a choice that also doesn't feel right to him. Ted hasn't sought help or outside perspective ever, if you really think about it, at least that we know of. He hasn't had a strong support system outside from his younger brother. He's largely isolated himself and often defaulted to the decisions of others. He's already developing a view that the world is hostile, coercive, or controlling, and has been desiring to detach from it entirely. So at this point, because of this sort of forced choice he's feeling, he's at a greater risk now of growing

deeper resentment and rigid self-reliance. Ted hated the path he was on, but he didn't make a huge effort to get off of it either. So his secret beliefs kept simmering, and all the while the interrogator's voice lived on in his head, berating, demeaning, and taunting him. When Ted started his PhD program, he battled with the two competing sides of himself, one that excelled academically, and one that rebelled against the very institutions that fostered his academic success. But eventually, Ted learned that the system didn't have to hold him back from living his true values. In fact, it could help him make his dreams a reality. And for Ted, an ideal reality would mean total destruction.

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Instead, Ted dutifully went to class and kept making his parents proud, But even though he was studying math, Ted was more interested in other fields. In his spare time, he read about history and evolutionary theory. He wanted to better understand the world he was a part of, and his readings strengthened the ideas he'd been forming for years. That technology was the bane of human existence, and elite institutions used it to control the masses, with no regard for its negative impact on people's mental health or the planet.

Ted was seeing things more clearly than ever. He refused to be a cog in the machine. Once he saved up enough money, he wanted to go off the grid completely. He didn't try to get to know his colleagues. They thought he was brilliant, but he didn't care. Just like when he was a kid, Ted would march straight home after class and crack open a book. And this is where the rigidity in his thinking starts to come in. If Ted was spending most of his time alone,

reading and not really talking through his ideas with other people, then no one was challenging his thinking. And when you're alone with a belief for long enough, it can start to feel flawless to you. It makes sense to you. It feels logical or justified. And the problem is, without other perspectives, your thinking can get less flexible. And when flexibility decreases, strong beliefs can slowly shift into less of an opinion and more of a mission. And now isolation by itself doesn't create extremism, but it can remove the reality testing of other people that helps keep ideas like this grounded. Do you think Ted's worsening isolation and the fact that he is doubling down on his ideologies might be a post-traumatic stress response to his experience with

the psychological study at Harvard? So I want to highlight what post-traumatic stress disorder is because it has specific criteria, the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders. It's defined as exposure to a traumatic event, intrusive memories, flashbacks like they're reliving the event, avoidance tied to that event, hyperarousal, and functional impairment linked to the trauma. And when we're talking about a traumatic event, it's usually a life-threatening event of some kind. In what we know publicly, there isn't any clear evidence that Ted demonstrated classic trauma symptoms in that structured way according to how we classify it. We know that the study was psychologically harmful to TED, but for it to qualify for PTSD, at least diagnostically, it requires exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence.

Humiliation and psychological stress even prolonged doesn't automatically meet the clinical threshold for trauma as defined in the diagnostic criteria, and I want to make it very, very clear. I'm not undermining the harm that causes someone, nor am I saying it can't lead to cancer. PTSD. I'm speaking about TED specifically. And in that regard, I think a better way of framing this is that Ted had cumulative experiences beginning in adolescence that were adversarial or stressful, and that likely caused mistrusted authority and sensitivity to control. The isolation is exacerbating this, and doubling down on his ideologies was perhaps a way for him to find autonomy or control on his own terms. Without evaluating him personally, I can't say for sure that this is PTSD. Since Ted kept his beliefs to himself, no one realized he was forming a sinister plan. The more he

read, the more he believed elite, high-tech institutions had to be destroyed, and he should be the one to do it. For now, though, he had to keep saving money. So after he graduated from the University of Michigan in the late 1960s, Ted accepted a tenure-track role as a professor of mathematics at UC Berkeley. There, his beliefs continued to solidify, and after just two years, he resigned with no explanation. The reality was that he'd finally saved up enough to sever himself from the path he'd been forced onto his entire life. In June of 1971, Ted moved to Lincoln, Montana, where he built a small cabin in a remote wooded area. His brother, David, helped him by the plot of land where the cabin was located.

Ted's home had no electricity, running water, or phone, and that was exactly how he liked it. This was not a temporary escape. Ted believed that withdrawing from modern society was the only way to avoid being controlled. He spent his time gardening, hunting, and reading, and he savored every minute of his new, found freedom. Ted's life went on like this for a few years, but by the mid-1970s, his own freedom

wasn't enough. He'd been immersing himself into anti-tech philosophy, and the piece he'd found since going off the grid started to fade, as he realized, even though his life had changed, the rest of the world was still the same. Mega corporations were still destroying the planet, and world's superpowers bombed innocent communities. Ted wouldn't stand for it any longer. So he started writing. He filled notebooks with long critiques of industrial society, a lot like the essays he'd written for the Harvard study,

except this time he wanted people to take him seriously. Well, Ted had what he thought he wanted, which was a fully self-reliant life. But for him, that level of isolation may have actually made things worse. Like we were just discussing, isolation can fuel rigid thinking. Without ongoing dialogue, beliefs don't get challenged. They intensify. If he was reading material that reinforced his beliefs, not engaging with alternative perspectives and living in near total isolation, it makes sense that his framework would grow more rigid and more extreme. That can shift someone like Ted from self-protection, which is what I think he was initially looking for, into moral especially if intelligence is central to his identity. If Ted saw himself as uniquely capable or uniquely perceptive, he may have begun to see himself as part of the solution to this perceived crisis. And we know how strongly he reacted to perceived control as well. In that moment, he may have

started to realize that avoidance wasn't enough and that now the only way to truly be free from control was to confront it. Speaking of him, possibly feeling he was uniquely capable. Do you think Ted felt a lack of fulfillment now that he had less of an audience? He didn't have that study pounding on him. He had no one really reading his work. I think that's very possible. I always look for patterns. That's what I do. And when you look back, there's a recurring theme of Ted positioning his intelligence where it can be recognized or utilized. When he finished with STEM, he volunteered for the psychological study that we know specifically targeted exceptionally intelligent young men.

To me, that suggests he was drawn to environments where his intellect was relevant, but also it was conducted in an environment that intellect was highly associated. It was Harvard. Later, when faced with the draft, he returned to academia rather than exploring alternative paths or even seeking guidance elsewhere. Again, he chose the domain where his intelligence gave him leverage, even though he hated it. Then he withdrew entirely, and he lived off the grid, but even there, he immersed himself in philosophy and theory, and now he's once again re-engaging intellectually through manifestos

and ideological ideas. That raises the question of whether being intellectually exceptional wasn't just something he was, but something he needed to be, or needed to at least be doing, which again strengthens the theory that this was part of his identity. And if recognition had been part of that pattern earlier in life, the absence of it in this level of isolation may have actually brought a different kind of dissatisfaction to his life now. Ted needed someone to understand how he felt. So he started sending his writing to his brother, David, who was one of the few people he was still in touch with. David even sent Ted money sometimes so he could survive on his own in the cabin. And while he found Ted's essays somewhat alarming, he thought his brother was

just expressing himself. David had no idea just how dangerous Ted's ideas were. When he wasn't writing, Ted searched for ways to prove his points to the rest of the world. Even though he hoped to publish his writing eventually, he knew that wouldn't be enough. He had to do something. And pretty soon, he realized the only way to gain the world's attention was to stoke fear. Ted taught himself to build explosives, but not like the ones he used to make. as a kid in school, he wanted to inflict real harm, and he wanted to use technology to do it. Only then would people start to see it as the enemy, just like he did. He went to the library to do research and check out how-to manuals.

Then he collected basic tools and materials like wood, fishing line, nails, tape, batteries, and wire. He made sure to only use scavenged or scrap material in everyday items. That way the devices would be harder to track. Through trial and error, Ted taught himself what worked best, and by 1978, when Ted was 36 years old, he believed he finally created a potentially lethal bomb. Now he just had to select a target. He set his sights on the most symbolic marks, like universities, scientific institutions,

and scientists themselves. He gathered personal information on people. and learned about their whereabouts and routines. And in May of that year, Ted Kaczynski committed his first act of terrorism. He wrapped a bomb in a brown paper bag and brought it with him as he traveled to the Midwest. His destination was the University of Illinois, Chicago. But that's not where he wanted the bomb to ultimately end up. On the packaging, he'd written the name and return address

for a man named Buckley Christ, who was an engineering professor at Northwestern University, just outside Chicago. Northwestern has always been known for its science and tech programs, and in Ted's opinion, Professor Christ was at the forefront of that oppressive movement. Once he arrived at the University of Illinois, Ted left the bomb somewhere on campus. When employees there found it, they sent it to Professor Christ, just like he'd planned. However, when the package arrived at Chris's office, he was suspicious.

So instead of opening it, he called the campus police. Officer Terry Marker responded and opened the package. And when he did, the device exploded. Fortunately, Marker survived, although he was badly burned, and shrapnel tore into his skin. It's such a stark contrast often for people to comprehend when they hear someone who's never harmed anybody, suddenly shifts to sending a lethal bomb on a university campus that could have potentially killed

or harmed more than one person. But the reality is these shifts are rarely sudden. They're typically gradual. And when we zoom out and we look, Ted has gradually become more extreme in his beliefs throughout the years and during his isolation. And in those beliefs is dehumanization. If he truly believed technology was destroying humanity, then people like Professor Christ, have been reduced to symbols rather than people. That shrinks empathy and it creates moral justification. If he believes that he was confronting a threat to mankind, then he can justify violence as intervention instead of it being what it really is, its harm or aggression. We can really see how everything has led to this point and how his isolation and his lack of reality testing with others

was likely the tipping point. Ted seemed to think the symbolism drives this act would be immediately obvious to others. Why do you think that is? Do you think his high intelligence affected his ego at all? I think honestly it's because he'd been so isolated, not just physically, but emotionally, socially, and cognitively that his beliefs likely started to feel universal to him. That's similar to what we call the false consensus effect, which is assuming that others see the world the same way that you do. And as for intelligence and ego, high intelligence doesn't automatically produce like traits of grandiosity and that kind of ego sense. But if intelligence has long been central to someone's identity, which I think in Ted's case, we can

safely say was the case, and it's reinforced as their primary source of value, it can certainly shape how they perceive themselves. And from what we've discussed and what we know, I don't really see that Ted is vain or seeking admiration. What I see is someone who's deeply trusted his own reasoning. If he believed he was uniquely capable of diagnosing this problem in society, that doesn't necessarily mean that he was arrogant. I think it means more so that he was intellectually overconfident. There's a difference between wanting to feel superior and believing that your analysis of what's going on is sound,

and that can at times be hard to differentiate between the two. Ted wanted the world to know this was anarchy, and for people to see how everyday technology could suddenly become a threat. However, his actions didn't have the intended effect. Authorities investigated the bombing and the story made national news. Ted kept tabs on the coverage, and he grew frustrated when he realized no one viewed the act as symbolic. Instead, people seemed to think it was completely random.

There was no national panic, no debate about industrial society. Soon, the story faded from the headlines. Ted retreated back into himself, and eventually his brother David could tell something was wrong. David had no idea what Ted had done, but in his letters, he seemed even more dejected and withdrawn than usual. David thought Ted could use more time in regular society, so in 1978 he invited him to return home to Illinois

and offered him a job at a factory he managed. Surprisingly, Ted accepted, but the gig didn't last long. A female employee quickly caught Ted's eye. They briefly dated, but Ted didn't talk to her or tried to get to know her. And when they broke up, Ted wrote crude and offensive limericks about her and taped them to the wall for everyone to see. When David was notified, he told Ted he had to let him go. After that, Ted went back to Montana.

He and David stayed in touch. through letters, but now there was tension between them. To Ted, this was proof that industrial society warped people's minds. So he went back to living in his cabin and continued studying how to build a lethal bomb. Ted wouldn't give up. He had to make sure that next time he got his message across, and he wouldn't be ignored. One year later, he was ready to try again. He set his sights back on Northwestern so that people would understand the first attack wasn't random. This time, he used gift wrapping to conceal a pipe bomb and left it on campus himself. Ted chose a random spot, then quickly left the scene. Soon, a graduate student walked by and noticed what

looked like a present someone had dropped accidentally. The grad student picked it up, and the bomb went off. The student was injured, but they survived. Just like before, the incident briefly made headlines, but it failed to stoke the level of fear Ted had wanted. He was growing more agitated, and soon Ted realized in his mind that in order to so real panic, he couldn't just hurt one person at a time, he needed to cause large-scale casualties. Thanks so much for listening. We'll be back next time as we discuss how Ted Kaczynski grew into a full-on domestic terrorist. Serial killers and murderous minds is a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support.

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and is a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Serial Killers and Murderous Minds team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Lori Marinelli, Natalie Pertsovsky, Sarah Camp, Sarah Batchelor, Ines Reniquet, Sarah Tardif, and Carrie Murphy. Thank you for listening. Thanks for listening to today's episode. Not sure what to listen to next? Check out America's most infamous crimes hosted by Katie Ring. From serial killers to unsolved mysteries and game-changing investigations.

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