Emily Alison - Rapport: Read People. Lead Conversations. Revolutionise Your Relationships.

Emily Alison has worked for over 20 years designing and delivering treatment with families where relationships have broken down to the point of violence and abuse. Her programmes are delivered in over 80 UK schools, a dozen youth offending teams, and numerous other social care services and specialist police teams. Her Engage approach to tackling domestic abuse and family violence has been piloted nationally in the UK as an alternative to traditional separate and isolate methods. She is a research associate with the University of Liverpool.

Together, the Alisons have provided psychological advice on hundreds of serious cases including murder, rape, child sexual exploitation and terrorism. They have trained top UK and US law enforcement, defence and security service personnel, and countless other government and corporate agencies, in their model of rapport-based interviewing, known as ORBIT (Observing Rapport-Based Interpersonal Techniques).

In 2004, at the age of 35, Laurence Alison became one of the UKs youngest professors. He continues his research and teaching as Director of Critical and Major Incident Research at the University of Liverpool. As the key psychological debriefer for over 400 critical incidents, including the London 7/7 bombings, the Buncefield fire (Europes biggest peacetime fire), the response to the Boxing Day tsunami and countless rape and murder investigations, he has contributed directly to some of the most significant real-life applied law enforcement, military and security-related cases in recent history. Having produced over 200 internationally significant publications, including ten books on critical incidents and offender profiling, he has conducted internationally significant work with a global impact on improving high-risk decisions, child protection and assisting directly in ethically sound, effective interrogations.

For Heath you are the best of us.

With love, Mum & Dad

Emily: 1996. I am 22 years old and in a lift with four men. All of them have convictions for violence and all of them have mental health issues. Im their care worker at a secure hospital. We are going to the recreation room in the basement of the facility to play pool. A visit to the rec room means travelling from the secure wing through three sets of airlock-style security doors, and then descending to the basement using an uncomfortably small, brightly lit lift that usually smells of bleach. It reminds me of climbing into a giant old steel kitchen trolley like the type you see in films.

I am standing at the back of the lift next to the control panel. The four men are squeezed into the space in front of me. They have all done truly awful things before coming to the facility. Despite this, I enjoy working with them and find them interesting, complex and polite.

There is Will he has committed five brutal rapes. I can see him rubbing the five small star tattoos on his hand, which makes me grimace. He insisted that he had them done to remind him of his wrongs but the senior psychologist felt they were more likely trophies to help him relive his crimes. He is standing next to Isaac, who is awkwardly shuffling about. Isaac is as wide as a pair of barn doors and a bit short on conversational skills. He strangled his elderly father during a psychotic episode. He rarely looks up from his shoes and only speaks when spoken to. On the wing, he plays cards for hours, content but mostly silent.

Do you mind pressing B? I ask man number three, Charles a gangly 18-year-old who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia and is a chronic firesetter. Charles had set a number of grass fires near his home until things escalated to him burning down the south wing of his primary school. Luckily, it was a Sunday morning so no one was on the premises, but he caused hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage. Police found him placidly watching the school burn from the swings in the playground. Charles is a very polite friendly lad. Back on the wing, I often find him telling jokes to the thermostat on the wall in the lunch room.

Sure, he replies, pushing B. The doors shush shut.

The men are being unnervingly quiet, and I wonder if there is something wrong. Has there been some beef between them on the ward that I dont know about? There is none of the normal banter and joking I have come to expect. As we descend, I can feel the tension in the air its like static crackling almost inaudibly in the background. The lift stops and the doors open three of the men walk out, one does not.

Man number four is Jerome, who is over six foot and weighs about 15 stone. He is standing like an obelisk in the doorway of the lift. He also suffers from paranoid schizophrenia but is much more intimidating than the gentle Charles. He has a history of violent, explosive outbursts. At the age of 19, he was convicted of murdering his elderly neighbour when he thought she was spying on him and tape recording his conversations for the CIA. He knocked on her door at three in the afternoon and, when she answered, hit her 12 times in the head with a claw hammer. She was 82.

Go on Jerome, out we go, I say, thinking, Whats the radio code again for help?

No, he says, ladies first. His face breaks into a slow, slightly sinister smile and he motions for me to pass.

Jerome, I say, the hairs going up on the back of my neck, you know the rules Im the last one out, remember?

Yeah, well I dont like rules, he says, his face suddenly darkening like a thundercloud. He turns to square up to me. I have one finger on the door hold button and one on my radio. I can feel my throat tightening.

I know Jerome, but weve all got to follow them. I cant get out until you get out thats the way it works, I say, trying to stay calm, the flinty taste of fear filling my mouth. Lets go play some pool, come on itll be more fun than staying in here, wont it? I say, giving him a tense smile, trying to stay calm.

There is a long pause he is staring at me, his eyes wide and his mouth set in a thin angry line. The idea of being hit by him is truly terrifying, but I am trying very hard to look relaxed. The blood is thundering in my ears so loud Im amazed he cant hear it.

Im not moving until you do Jerome, I say quietly but firmly, holding his gaze.

His face contorts into a scowl, eyes dark and flashing he moves closer and glares down at me, breathing hard, his hands visibly trembling at his sides.

I think, Can you reach for your radio? No! If you reach for your radio, thats it. Hes going to batter you to death in this lift! Stupid girl It will take them two minutes to reach you and youll be dead in 30 seconds look at his hands! Theyre like mallets!

Jerome bends down and hisses in my face, I dont like women telling me what to do I have a hard time with that. You need to remember that, he growls, jabbing his finger in my face.

OK, I will Jerome, I promise, I say quietly, continuing to hold eye contact with him, my heart in my mouth.

Then abruptly, he turns around and out he steps, striding into the rec room.

Once I have swallowed down the taste of bile in my mouth and stopped my hands shaking, I radio for a second staff member to come down and help me escort the men back to the wing. From then on, the hospital changed its policy to a two-person escort for three or more patients.