Recognizing a potential femicide perpetrator before it’s too late
Recognizing a potential femicide perpetrator before it’s too late
How many times does a woman have to feel in danger before someone recognizes what she is living? What can online therapy do?
Femicide is never a sudden outburst.
It is not an impulsive act, nor an explosion of madness that erupts without warning.
Behind every woman killed by a partner or an ex-partner, there is a story whose roots go far back before the final act: a story made of words, dynamics, emotional imbalances, fears that settle day after day. A story that rarely begins with physical violence. It begins instead in the invisible cracks of the relationship, in those details that seem trivial but slowly turn into chains.
Lethal violence is often born in silence:
in the tone of voice that cannot be contradicted,
in the message that “demands” an immediate reply,
in control disguised as concern,
in judgment dressed up as love.
It is made of small daily renunciations: stopping seeing a friend “to avoid arguments,” avoiding a certain outfit “so he won’t get angry,” giving up a project “so as not to be accused of selfishness.”
These are minimal sacrifices, individually negligible, but over time they build a perfect cage— invisible yet impenetrable.
Violence does not begin with a blow:
it begins when a woman stops feeling free.
When, without even realizing it, she starts living according to the other person’s mood.
When she wakes up every day wondering what she can say, what she can do, who she can be to avoid yet another conflict.
Many women say that at the beginning there was only “too much attention,” “too much jealousy,” “too much passion.”
In reality, there was too much control.
There was the demand to always know where she was.
There was constant criticism of the people close to her, which slowly isolated her.
There was devaluation, made of jokes, insinuations, humiliating comparisons.
There was emotional confusion: he alternated moments of rage with moments of tenderness, apologies and promises that reopened small spaces of hope.
The cycle of violence is built this way: with a swing between tension and false calm.
The woman remains trapped in the hope that things will get better, that he has really changed, that what she feels is not real or is just a phase.
Meanwhile, her identity is eroded: she loses confidence, loses energy, loses the ability to see the relationship from the outside.
And as her inner voice weakens, his becomes stronger, more intrusive, more authoritarian.
Psychological violence is the first form of violence.
It is insidious, it leaves no bruises on the skin, but it engraves them on the soul.
And it almost always precedes physical violence.
Not because physical violence is inevitable, but because total control— emotional, psychological, economic— tends to increase when the woman begins to reclaim autonomy, space, freedom.
In many femicide cases, the most dangerous phase is precisely separation: when the woman decides to leave, when she says “enough,” when she tries to regain her independence.
That is when the violent partner experiences rejection as a threat to his power, as an unbearable narcissistic injury.
That is when the danger increases dramatically.
But before the tragedy, the signs are almost always there.
Sometimes they are obvious, other times hidden behind apparently innocent gestures.
They are not signs that allow us to “predict” with certainty what will happen— because there is no single psychological profile, no specific face of violence.
Rather, they are recurring dynamics, relational patterns that emerge with striking similarity in the stories of women who have experienced severe or lethal violence.
Recognizing them means giving a name to what is often normalized.
It means restoring women’s ability to trust their own perception.
It means breaking a narrative that minimizes, justifies, downplays (“they’re just arguments,” “he’s just a bit jealous,” “all partners control a little”).
Knowing these warning signs can make the difference between continuing to survive and beginning to truly live.
It can be the spark that leads to asking for help.
It can be the outstretched hand toward someone who no longer has the strength to speak.
It can, in some cases, save a life.
Article objective
The aim of this article is to offer a clear, in-depth and psychologically grounded guide to recognizing the early signs of a potentially dangerous relationship, making visible those dynamics that often operate in silence and normalization.
Not to create fear, not to label, but to strengthen awareness, provide concrete tools, and encourage recognition, prevention and help-seeking.
Understanding these signs means breaking the silence.
And breaking the silence, sometimes, means saving yourself.
The 5 signs that must not be ignored
When love becomes surveillance: total control over a woman’s life
Control is not love. It never is, not even when it appears with the reassuring face of “concern,” affectionate attention, or “normal” jealousy.
Control is a wall built slowly, one gesture at a time, until the relationship becomes a space where the woman’s freedom is compressed, monitored and eventually erased.
The partner who exerts control does not want to know where you are to feel close to you: he wants to know where you are to make sure you are not elsewhere than with him, that you have no autonomy, that you cannot decide freely, that you cannot escape his emotional surveillance.
Control almost always begins quietly.
An insistent question: “Who are you with?”
A message too frequent: “When are you coming back?”
A comment that seems like a compliment but isn’t: “That outfit doesn’t suit you, better change.”
Then, slowly, it intensifies: he demands passwords, wants access to the phone, monitors social media, questions every like, every call, every minute of delay.
And when the woman tries to defend her space, accusations of infidelity, guilt and tense arguments arise: “If you have nothing to hide, why won’t you show me?”
Control is the exact opposite of love: while love expands the other’s space, control restricts it.
But there is an even more insidious, silent and devastating form of control: economic control.
Economic violence is one of the strongest and least recognized weapons in abusive relationships, because it leaves no visible bruises and is often not perceived as violence until it becomes a real prison.
It manifests in different ways, often disguised as “common sense,” “family organization,” or “traditional roles”:
He decides how the couple’s money is spent, imposing priorities that align only with his desires.
He prevents the partner from working, with excuses that seemingly “protect” her: “You already have too much to do,” “I’ll take care of it, you rest,” “That job isn’t right for you.”
He obstructs every attempt at professional autonomy, criticizing her ambitions, belittling her talents or provoking conflict whenever she tries to build independent space.
He confiscates salaries, cards, documents, putting every account, every bill, every resource in his name.
He uses money as emotional blackmail: “Without me you can’t afford it,” “Where would you go without money?” “If I leave you, how will you survive?”
This form of violence not only limits daily freedom but undermines the very possibility of leaving the relationship.
Without money, without access to resources, without a job or documents, escape becomes almost impossible.
Economic control creates dependency and immobility, and this condition is one of the reasons many women remain in deeply dangerous relationships.
Psychologically, economic control stems from a pathological need for total domination.
For the violent man, power is never enough: it is not sufficient to control the partner’s body, movements, relationships.
He wants to control her future, opportunities and tools of autonomy.
He wants to ensure that without him she cannot go anywhere.
It is a violence that slowly empties the person, makes her dependent, weakens her.
And very often it represents the first step toward isolation and physical violence because, when a woman loses the ability to decide for herself, she also loses the strength to defend her boundaries.
Control— emotional, psychological, digital, economic— is the root of every form of abuse.
Recognizing it means turning on a light in a room that until then was kept in the dark.
When jealousy becomes a cage: the transformation of love into possession
Jealousy is not proof of love. Yet too often it is romanticized, normalized, portrayed as a sign of passion or emotional involvement.
Pathological jealousy, instead, is something else entirely: it is a deep crack in the relationship, a warning sign that must never be ignored. It is not “you’re jealous because you care,” but a constant obsession, a suspicion that seeps into every corner of the partner’s life and turns even the most innocent situations into potential threats in the man’s eyes.
Pathological jealousy is a radar that is always on, interpreting every glance, every word, every movement, even every silence, as proof of betrayal.
It is a form of constant vigilance born from deep insecurity, from the inability to tolerate the other’s autonomy, from the distorted belief that love must coincide with total possession.
It starts small: a comment about a friend, a sulk after a message arrived “too late,” an insistent question about who was present somewhere. But it can quickly become a vortex.
And within this vortex, the woman finds herself justifying every gesture, every word, every relationship.
Obsessive jealousy manifests through phrases that are not expressions of love, but signs of domination:
“You’re mine.”
“Without me you are nothing.”
“If you leave me it will end badly.”
These are not romantic declarations: they are declarations of ownership.
They are implicit— and sometimes explicit— promises of violence.
They are the language of control, not of affection.
In a healthy relationship, jealousy is managed through communication and respect for boundaries.
In pathological jealousy, instead, the partner slowly stops being an autonomous person: she becomes an extension of the other, a variable to be monitored, something to be possessed.
The woman is no longer seen for who she is, but for what she represents: a valuable object to be defended from any “threat,” real or imagined.
It is not uncommon for the jealous man to begin narrowing the woman’s field of vision: he limits her outings, criticizes friends, devalues colleagues and acquaintances, plants doubts and suspicions, demands total transparency and total devotion.
This kind of jealousy is an emotional trap.
The more the woman tries to reassure, the more the man intensifies control.
The more she tries to be attentive, caring, available, the more he interprets every effort as insufficient.
It is a perverse game in which the woman loses ground until she loses the perception of her own boundaries.
And when pathological jealousy takes root, it often comes with another toxic narrative:
the narrative of possession.
The woman is defined, described and considered as “his.”
A possession, a right, a part of his own value.
And when a person is perceived as property, the risk increases, because losing the partner— real or feared— can be experienced as an unbearable affront.
It is precisely in this transformation— from partner to object to be controlled— that pathological jealousy becomes a real threat.
The relationship is no longer a space of exchange, but a territory of domination.
And the partner is no longer a companion: he is an emotional guard.
Recognizing this dynamic is fundamental.
Pathological jealousy does not improve, does not fade, does not resolve itself.
It is an early warning sign of risk, a gateway to increasingly invasive, suffocating and potentially dangerous behaviors.
Invisible wounds: when manipulation becomes a weapon and the mind the first battlefield
Psychological violence is the first form of abuse.
It leaves no bruises on the skin, but carves scars into self-esteem, self-perception, the ability to trust one’s own judgment.
Before physical violence arrives— if it ever does— there is almost always a long period made of words that hurt, belittle, confuse. A period in which the woman slowly begins to doubt herself, often without realizing that this doubt does not arise spontaneously, but is the result of continuous devaluation.
Devaluation never arrives as a direct attack at first.
It creeps in through small comments, perhaps joking, but with a critical undertone:
“You don’t understand anything,”
“You’re always exaggerating,”
“You have trouble managing your emotions.”
Then it intensifies. Insults become more explicit, mockery more frequent, patience shorter. Every mistake— real or imagined— becomes proof of her supposed inadequacy. Every success is diminished, downsized, minimized.
The woman begins to feel “defective,” “wrong,” never enough.
Psychological manipulation is even more insidious.
It does not present itself as violence: it presents itself as “concern,” as “advice,” as “objective truth.”
Instead, it is a systematic reversal of reality, a way of making her believe that what she feels is not valid, what she sees is not real, what she fears has no basis.
This is the realm of gaslighting, one of the most devastating and toxic mechanisms in violent dynamics.
Phrases like:
“You’re too sensitive,”
“You’re making things up,”
“You misunderstood,”
“You’re exaggerating,”
“It’s your fault if I react this way”
are not simple words: they are tools to erase the woman’s perception, to confuse her, to make her doubt her memory, her feelings, her identity.
Gaslighting is like a fog that slowly envelops the mind.
Over time, the woman can no longer distinguish what is real from what she is told.
She no longer knows whether her reaction is legitimate or if she is really “overreacting.”
She no longer knows whether the episode that hurt her happened as she remembers or as he recounts it.
This state of confusion is the perfect ground for emotional dependence: the more insecure she feels, the more she clings to the only person who seems to “give her meaning,” even if that meaning is manipulative, distorted and deeply destructive.
Psychological violence is cyclical: moments of aggression are followed by moments of remorse, apologies, promises of change.
It is a swing that destabilizes and creates an extremely powerful emotional bond because after devaluation comes the “honeymoon”: he becomes sweet, understanding, loving, almost unrecognizable.
And it is precisely this alternation that confuses the woman, makes her hope that everything can return to how it was, that maybe the problem was just a moment of tension, that “deep down he’s not like this.”
But the truth is that this cycle is not random: it is a mechanism of control.
A mechanism that traps the woman in a continuous attempt to recover the “good” version of the partner, while giving up more and more of herself.
And the more she tries to please him, the more violence takes root.
Psychological violence is the hardest to recognize, because it leaves no visible marks.
But it is also the one that opens the door to all other forms of abuse.
Breaking this cycle requires awareness, support and often professional help.
Because no woman should learn to survive words that have the power to destroy who she is.
When “enough” becomes a spark: separation as a trigger for violence
The separation phase is, in many stories of gender-based violence, the most dangerous moment.
It is precisely when the woman finds the courage to pronounce that simple and powerful word— “enough”— that the accumulated tension explodes. Not because she has done something wrong, but because her decision cracks the core mechanism of control on which he built the relationship.
When a violent man perceives that domination is slipping from his hands, his reaction can become unpredictable, extreme, lethal.
For many abusive men, the end of the relationship is not a legitimate choice of the partner, but an unbearable narcissistic injury.
Separation is not experienced as a painful but manageable event— as it would be in a healthy relationship— but as a humiliation that undermines their value, identity and power.
In this distorted psychological framework, the woman is not perceived as a free individual, but as a “thing” that belongs to them, that they have the right to keep, control, possess.
And when the “object” tries to leave, the reaction is that of an owner fearing the loss of what he believes is his.
This is where violence escalates.
The end of the relationship can activate dangerous and obsessive behaviors:
emotional blackmail, alternating tears, promises and despair to manipulate her decision;
explicit or veiled threats, often directed not only at the woman but also at children, relatives, pets;
stalking and surveillance, with constant monitoring of movements, habits and contacts;
sudden outbursts of rage, violent acts, destruction of objects, verbal or physical assaults;
psychological pressure, attempts to make her feel guilty, irresponsible, selfish, a “destroyer of the family.”
At this stage, the implicit message is clear:
“If you don’t come back to me, you will pay the consequences of your choice.”
It is a direct threat to a woman’s right to be free.
Separation deprives the violent man of his primary tool: control.
For him, losing the partner represents losing power, internal status, an identity built on domination.
This narcissistic wound can fuel a need to reassert control by any means— including violence.
The woman thus becomes the target of anger that does not stem from love, but from frustration, possession and inability to process rejection.
He often alternates desperate pleas with crude intimidation, shifting in moments from “I can’t live without you” to “If you don’t come back, I’ll ruin you.”
This is a red alert, a moment when risk increases exponentially.
Many femicides occur precisely here: in the woman’s attempt to reclaim her life.
That is why it is essential to recognize that leaving is a courageous but dangerous act, and that it must be planned carefully, with professional support and adequate protection.
No separation justifies violence, and no rejection is an affront: it is simply a person’s most basic right.
But for some violent men, that right becomes an unbearable threat, and the response is rage that has nothing to do with love, only with power.
Before the hands, the threat: the hidden escalation that precedes violence
Threats are never empty words.
They are not “outbursts,” not “exaggerations in the heat of the moment,” not “things said out of anger.”
Threats are declarations of intent.
They are the most explicit, direct and dangerous form of psychological control a violent man can use before moving to even more serious actions.
Phrases like:
“I’ll ruin you,”
“Without me you won’t survive,”
“I am nothing without you,”
“If you leave me, you’ll pay”
are not expressions of emotional pain or romantic suffering: they are instruments of terror.
They serve to intimidate, paralyze, instill fear, break the woman’s will, make it clear that her freedom has a price— and that price, if she chooses to leave, could be very high.
Threats are an extremely powerful warning sign, often underestimated because they leave no visible marks.
But every threat carries a message: “I have power. And if you rebel, I will react.”
Alongside words, there are behaviors.
Here too escalation is never sudden: it is progressive, growing, often predictable if one knows how to read it.
He may:
break objects, throw a glass, slam doors;
hit walls— not to “vent anger,” but to display force and intimidate;
damage phones, lock the woman out, break keys or personal belongings;
apply economic pressure, blocking cards, withholding money, preventing access to essential resources;
mistreat pets— one of the cruelest and most underestimated forms of intimidation, because harming what a woman loves means harming her deeply.
These actions are not random: they are rehearsals of violence.
They are ways to test how far he can go without the woman reacting or seeking help.
They are psychological tests, calibrated actions to observe her fear, fragility and resistance.
And if the woman stays— often because she is frightened, confused, economically dependent or isolated— the man interprets her staying as tacit permission, a signal that he can go further.
Every escalation deserves attention, deserves protection.
A door slammed today can become a punch tomorrow.
A destroyed phone can become a violently grabbed arm.
A harmed animal can precede imminent physical violence.
Violence almost always grows in small steps, which is why it is hard to recognize while it is happening.
But one thing is certain: it does not regress on its own.
Breaking objects, shouting, threatening, controlling, intimidating are not “moments of anger”: they are indicators of danger.
Every woman living these dynamics needs— and has the right— to be heard and supported.
Because a threat, every threat, is a warning.
And ignoring it can turn a warning into a tragedy.
What can online therapy do?
Online therapy does not replace emergency services and cannot substitute immediate interventions when a woman’s life is in danger.
But it can represent a first bridge to safety, an accessible opening even when everything else feels closed, distant, unreachable.
For many women in violent relationships, asking for help is not easy: they may not be free to move, may live under the same roof as the aggressor, may fear being seen entering an anti-violence center, or lack a supportive network of family or friends.
In these conditions, online therapy becomes a discreet, silent but powerful escape route.
One of the greatest advantages of remote psychological support is the possibility of offering a safe, protected space reachable even from a phone— perhaps during a walk, a grocery trip, or a moment when the partner is not present.
It is a space where a woman can finally speak without being judged, where she can tell what she is living without fear of being contradicted, devalued or blamed.
This first telling, often whispered, is already an act of courage and a crucial step toward freedom.
Online therapy also helps to clearly recognize danger signals— signals that violence tends to blur, minimize or distort.
Living inside the relationship, everything appears more confused: fear mixes with guilt, affection with control, hope for change with denial of severity.
A psychologist can help bring order to emotional chaos, restoring understanding, words and meaning to what is happening.
Another fundamental aspect is strengthening self-esteem.
Psychological, physical and economic violence are corrosive: they slowly erode self-perception, reduce confidence in one’s abilities, foster the belief of deserving what one suffers, of being too weak to leave.
Therapy helps rebuild what violence has destroyed: inner strength, sense of personal value, ability to say “no,” awareness of rights and needs.
It is a gradual process, but one that allows the woman to recover her voice, often silenced for years.
Online therapy can also be a crucial opportunity to plan an exit path realistically and safely.
Psychologists can collaborate with anti-violence centers, social services, law enforcement and local resources, helping the woman assess risks, identify the most dangerous moments, and create a concrete plan to leave.
An improvised departure can be dangerous; a planned departure can save a life.
Finally, online therapy offers immediate access to support, even anonymously— a precious opportunity for those afraid to expose themselves.
For many women, the first step toward freedom is not leaving the house or filing a report: it is speaking. Even once. Even to someone who finally listens.
But one thing must be remembered: in case of imminent danger, regardless of where you are, the absolute priority is to immediately contact emergency services.
In Italy, you can call 112 or 1522, available 24/7 for women victims of violence.
In France, emergencies respond at 17 (police) or 15 (medical emergency), while 3919 is the national number for women victims of violence.
Throughout the European Union, you can always dial 112, the single emergency number valid everywhere.
If you are in another country, contact the local emergency number (such as 911 in many English-speaking countries or 999/112 in the UK).
Therapy can support, guide and accompany.
Rescue, when life is at risk, requires immediate and protected intervention.
“Fear speaks in whispers, but courage is born when a woman listens to those signals and chooses her life: it is there, in that silent gesture, that freedom begins.”
Bibliographic references
- Stöckl, H., Dawson, M., & Boira, S. (Eds.). (2020). Femicide Across Europe: Theory, Research and Prevention. Bristol: Policy Press.
- True, J. (2020). Violence against women: Myths, facts, and feminist interventions. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
For information, write to Dr. Jessica Zecchini.
Email contact: consulenza@jessicazecchini.it
WhatsApp contact: +39 370 321 73 51
