Hidden Strength: Why Interviewers Shouldn’t Always Reveal Evidence

Last summer, my wife and I were making the 3 ½ hour long haul from my parents’ house in Richmond, VA, to our home in Wilmington, NC. We have made this trip so many times over the years that I’m pretty sure I could do the drive blindfolded (don’t worry, I won’t try it.) Like most people, to make the time pass with a little more ease, we like to listen to podcasts. Believe it or not, we gravitate towards the “true crime” stories (shocker, I know.) Three and a half hours fly by as we are inundated with stories of missing persons, assaults, and serial killers.

That’s normal, right?

On this particular trek, the episode revolved around an 8-year-old girl who had been kidnapped in the late ’80s. When she was finally discovered, police concluded she had been assaulted and subsequently murdered. The killer eluded police for the next 16 years. With every passing year since the murder, the assailant would incessantly taunt the police; sending anonymous letters advising he would “kill again”, painting notes onto public walls with cryptic messages and leaving letters on little girls’ bicycles parked in community playgrounds hinting of his next intended crime.

Local authorities eventually teamed up with state and federal officials and, through a series of incredibly creative investigative techniques, were able to find and apprehend the assailant. During the interrogation, authorities asked the subject the following question:

“This was the only girl you’ve done this to, right?”

As soon as I heard that question, my heart fell into my stomach. This is an individual who had successfully evaded police for the last 16 years and had been advertising his intentions to commit more heinous crimes during that exact time frame. What are the odds he WAS involved in other nefarious activities? What are the odds he had committed horrific crimes BEFORE this known case? As soon as the police set up the question in that manner, they showed their hand. They essentially told him, “This is the only victim we have any information on.”

What’s the likelihood he would feel compelled to divulge any additional information of other malicious, illicit activities he may have engaged in?

Slim.

I don’t fault the police for asking the question in this manner, they didn’t know otherwise. This is how they had been trained. On the surface, it’s an entirely fair question to ask. My question is, how much more effective could it have been to ask the question in the following manner instead?

“Let me ask you this, how many children have you made inappropriate contact with?” and follow it up with an exaggeration question similar to, “We’re not talking 100, are we?”

A question worded this way leaves the door wide open to explore other possible crimes, not exposing the subject to the one known issue we have evidence to support.

Leaving the interaction with more information than we go in with is always the key, as long as that information is truthful.

Traditional training and commonly accepted practices have compelled interviewers to expose their evidence early on in the interview. It makes sense, right? You have something on someone, show them what you have.

Right?

Well, it depends.

In most cases, however, we (WZ) say—wrong.

Showing evidence too early in the interview creates unavoidable confrontation. You are now directly confronting the subject with evidence of their (alleged) involvement in the known offense. Often, this will create a level of resistance with the subject, causing them to retract and become defensive.

How challenging does it become to get someone to provide you with truthful information if they are resistant right out of the gate?

By revealing your evidence, you have likely infused defiance into the interaction while at the same time, minimized your leverage by allowing them to know exactly what you do, or more importantly, DON’T know.

On the flip side, by approaching the subject through a non-confrontational approach, you allow them time to develop rapport with you as the interviewer, you provide them with an ample understanding of who you are, what you do and how you do it (introductory statement), and you afford them the opportunity to see you as a human being rather than the opposition.

By not revealing evidence, you create an environment of peaked curiosity—allowing them to wonder, “What do they know?”

Let’s take another example—one that may resonate with those of us in the private sector.

You are the HR manager for a large bank, and you receive an anonymous tip through your work “hotline” alleging a well-known, tenured supervisor made multiple inappropriate physical advances to a subordinate during the office holiday party.

You begin your investigation by digging into both the alleged subject as well as the mentioned victim. You immediately realize the victim in this case no longer works for the company, they abruptly quit two months before you received the complaint, which happened to be the week after the holiday party took place.

You review CCTV coverage from the party and discover, without question, the supervisor made what appeared to be unwanted, overtly inappropriate physical contact with their (former) subordinate.

Even though the victim in this case no longer works for the company, you know the concern with the supervisor needs to be addressed.

You have options.

You can get your case squared away and call the supervisor into your office to confront them on the issue. In this scenario, you could simply confront them with the known evidence and ask a question like:

“Tell me what happened between you and (insert victims name) during the holiday party back in December.”

This is a direct accusation and will likely elicit a defensive response from the subject. It also provides the subject with the knowledge this is likely the ONLY incident you are aware of.

Think about this for a second—is it possible, maybe even probable, that an individual who engages in this type of overt inappropriate behavior has ever participated in similar activity while working for the company?

I wouldn’t rule it out.

Rather than making the direct accusation, consider the following approach instead:

You build rapport with the supervisor, establish credibility by explaining to them who you are, what you do, and how you do it and show them you understand good people screw up sometimes.

The curiosity of the known and unknown is peaked, THEN you ask the question:

“When was the first time you made inappropriate contact with an employee at work?” 

Followed by, “We’re not talking your first day on the job, are we?”

You want them to consider ALL options, and then you work with them to narrow down each specific offense. This approach allows the interviewer the opportunity to uncover the full extent of the problem, rather than the one particular incident we know about.

Think about it, if an individual has already escalated their behavior to physically assaulting another employee, what behavior likely predicated this offense? Possibly inappropriate comments? Maybe unwanted gestures, looks…etc.? Our goal should be to gain the full extent of the subject’s involvement in misconduct, not to just confirm/deny the one incident that found its way to our desk.

As with anything, learning to be effective with this type of interview technique requires training and practice. The modifications are slight but profound. If you haven’t been through a formal non-confrontational interview training course, consider expanding your skillset and learning a few new techniques. No matter what industry you represent in the interviewing community, the benefits of learning to navigate a conversation where you leverage rapport, credibility, and understanding are vast.