Watching the detectives

British crime drama features more Scots than your average Glasgow street fight. Robbie Coltrane, Mark McManus and Ken Stott made legends of gritty characters in Taggart, Cracker and The Vice, but the reality is often a different story. As viewers prepare for TV's latest detective, Rebus, we meet the real-life professionals cracking crime on our streets Ian Stephen Scotland's leading forensic psychologist shapes up to his alter-ego Fitz, from Nineties drama Cracker

THE 14 million viewers who fell for Fitz - the psychologist known as Cracker - might expect his real-life incarnation to be equally overwhelming. But this man couldn't be further from Robbie Coltrane's loveable, hard-drinking rogue.

Ian Stephen, Scotland's leading forensic psychologist, worked as a consultant on the drama, but is first to admit there are crucial differences between him and his television alter-ego.

"I've got a different personal style altogether," says this small, quiet Aberdonian with a smile. "Fitz was really nothing like what real forensics is all about. You couldn't survive behaving in the extreme ways he did - the police wouldn't use you."

One thing is for sure: Fitz helped throw the profession into the public domain. "Before Cracker, the public hadn't heard of forensic psychology and the press wasn't covering it," says Stephen. "The drama brought it to the fore."

Stephen has drawn up profiles for some of Scotland's best known murder cases, including Thomas Brophy, jailed recently for raping and strangling Paisley woman Laura Donnelly. But while Fitz spent his time in the thick of police investigations, Stephen worked at the heart of the Scottish prison system.

He was the brain behind Glasgow's Barlinnie Special Unit, which revolutionised the way violent criminals were imprisoned in the Seventies. Killers such as Jimmy Boyle and Hugh Collins are testimony to a regime that urged prisoners to talk out their aggression rather than act on it. Both men became artists and writers after prison, having honed their creative skills under Barlinnie's radical regime.

Stephen went to Aberdeen University in the early Sixties to study psychology. He quickly became disillusioned and turned to foreign languages, teaching in a Borders secondary school. Ironically, the experience reignited his interest in psychology and he began working with young offenders in Glasgow. "If you can work with these kids, you can work with any of these violent men," he says. "The kids are far worse."

He is proud of setting up Barlinnie Special Unit, which helped gain forensic psychology respect from the authorities. "I was the only psychologist working in the Scottish prison system at the time," he says. "People were concerned because we didn't have the death penalty any more and these men were going around stabbing, rioting and taking over jails.

"We said: 'We don't know what we're going to do with them, let's try and set up this different unit and see where it goes.' We were lucky having some strong men among the staff - and among the prisoners, people like Jimmy Boyle, who realised this was their last chance.

"We used to have meetings that lasted hours, which were about trying to resolve violence before it became physical. We didn't have cells, we didn't have punishment - instead, we wanted to give the responsibility back to the prisoners. If you took it away, they could blame the prison system for their violence."

While Fitz relied on gut reaction, Stephen spent years comparing textbook theories to the real criminal mind. Occasionally, the reality was terrifying. Larry Winters, the killer behind Scottish movie Silent Scream, once threatened him when the two were alone in Barlinnie Special Unit.

"Larry took up a pair of scissors and said: 'Do you realise I could cut your throat? I've done this to better people than you. How do you feel?' And I said: 'I'm scared.' He just laughed and threw the scissors away."

Stephen speaks with understanding of the killers he worked with: "Larry was a very violent man - very bright, but with poor self control."

Even to him, though, some cases are beyond understanding. He believes child killer Myra Hindley should spend the rest of her days behind bars. "Most murderers only kill once, but others do it for malicious intent, because of their own needs," he says, adding: "you've got to be progressive when you can afford to be, but you can't afford to be stupid."

He is careful to stress that psychologists aren't magicians: "You don't change people. What you do is help them to adapt, so that the things that were negative for them in the past can be channelled."

Since breathing life into Fitz, Stephen has become more wary of crime drama and the public's seemingly insatiable appetite for it. "With Cracker, any violence came well after the watershed and it wasn't gratuitous, like with some drama," he says. "But forensic stuff is violent and by the nature of the programme, you were looking at particularly violent offending behaviour. We gave a realistic portrayal of the crime, as opposed to the sanitised, stereotyped stuff you often get on television."

The bottom line for Stephen is making responsible drama - something he fears is lacking in today's television.

"People are obsessed with crime just now," he says. "It's okay saying the public want crime drama, but you shouldn't just feed into it. You need to take responsibility for what you're doing, otherwise it's like a drug dealer saying: 'I wouldn't do this if people didn't buy drugs.'

"I always felt with the Cracker stuff there was an element of responsibility."

That is crucial for a man who has played mind games with killers - and not just the ratings figures.

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