The truth about Dr. Keith Ablow

“Truth’’ is a word that Ablow - forensic psychiatrist, author, and television personality - uses liberally. “I have an inherent desire to get to the truth,’’ he says. “Whenever the truth has more of a voice in the judicial process, that’s a good thing. I encourage a dogged pursuit of personal truth.’’ His self-help book, published in 2007, is titled “Living the Truth.’’

The truth about Rockefeller, Ablow says, was the reason the man spent his life duping the world with invented personas: His father had abused him throughout his childhood. In court, Ablow asserted that Rockefeller had a psychiatric disorder stemming from his traumatic past.

The jury disagreed. Rockefeller was found guilty of parental kidnapping. But Ablow was undiscouraged. After all, Ablow - who has testified in defense of some of the country’s most notorious criminals and written a series of mystery thrillers about a forensic psychiatrist wrestling with his own demons - built his career on plumbing the shadowy depths of the human psyche. And he knows that kindling empathy for con artists, rapists, and murderers isn’t easy.

“Prosecutors sometimes tell me, ‘You think of this as a thriller rather than a real legal case,’ ’’ says Ablow, 47. “Now that I’ve had a talk show, people say, ‘Is this just grandstanding for you?’ But I like to think of the work I’ve done in the media as an opportunity to convey ideas I care deeply about to a lot of people.’’

“The Dr. Keith Ablow Show,’’ a syndicated talk show that debuted in 2006, lasted one season. “It became easier to gloss over people’s problems and provide kissy solutions, and it ended up looking like all other talk shows that have come and gone,’’ said Andy Regal, who was a senior producer for the program. Today, Ablow frequently speaks on Fox News about topics ranging from serial killers to Mischa Barton’s mental state. He recently appeared on Howard Stern’s show to conduct on-air therapy with a self-described alien abductee.

Over the past few years - with the widely publicized Rockefeller verdict, the swift expiration of “The Dr. Keith Ablow Show,’’ and an expanding repertoire of both lightweight media commentary and grisly court cases under his belt - Ablow has worked to forge an identity that balances showmanship and serious psychiatry.

“The dark side of people is what engages me most,’’ said Ablow, who once testified for the defense in the case of Richard Sharpe, the cross-dressing Harvard dermatologist who shot and killed his wife in front of their children. “I believe that if you really want to know someone, you have to know what has been most painful for them. Otherwise, you’re still strangers.’’

“We had such a sheltered childhood,’’ said his older sister, Karen, 50. “I think there’s a little bit of rebel still coming out of Keith. What may have happened with some kids when they were 15 and 16 is happening with him now.’’ He was a studious child, prone to anxiety and homesickness. At a young age, he started writing short stories that “usually had some element of violence,’’ he recalls. And he was bullied. Karen remembers the night that neighborhood boys pelted her brother with eggs. He wandered home with his new navy jacket drenched in yolk. “He was so humiliated,’’ Karen said. “It’s a deep scar, and it still resurfaces 35 years later.’’

Ablow went to Brown University, then Johns Hopkins Medical School, where he studied ophthalmology. But he soon realized he was more interested in hearing his patients’ stories than examining their eyes, so he decided to become a psychiatrist.

In 1990, a close friend was murdered by a crazed physician. Transfixed, Ablow wrote a nonfiction book about the killer’s life, “Without Mercy.’’ In 2005 he authored the New York Times bestseller “Inside the Mind of Scott Peterson’’ about the California man who killed his pregnant wife.

Now, Ablow is a sturdily built man with a scalp as slick as a crystal ball. Everything about him is artfully casual: the easy laugh, the conspiratorial tilt of his head, the hands clasped lightly atop his desk. He wears jeans, a tight black button-down, and a broad silver belt buckle engraved with a skull.

“If being a defender of evil people means that any act, however destructive, can be understood, then I don’t mind the label,’’ he said.

He and his wife, Debbie, who is a lawyer, live in Newbury with their two children. Ablow runs his private practice out of a house in Newburyport, originally purchased as his writer’s retreat. It’s a sleek, spotless cabin that looks more like a bachelor’s pad than a doctor’s office, complete with leather chairs and glossy cherry-colored wood. His desk is cluttered with trinkets given to him by patients: a metal dragon slayer posed mid-combat, a tiny wooden snake charmer.

“The first time we spoke, Keith wanted to know everything about my past,’’ said Emily, a 44-year-old Eastham native whom Ablow counsels regularly and who requested that her last name not be published. “And he is very good at spotting when you’re hiding things.’’

“The publicity suits him. It seems like he’s pretty good at it,’’ said James Chu, a psychiatrist who testified for the prosecution in the Rockefeller case. “But his world and mine are very different.’’

Some have questioned his motives for seeking the limelight. Others have accused him of molding his testimony to a preconceived narrative in order to heighten drama and benefit his defendants.

“I did my thing with Ablow on the witness stand,’’ said Robert Weiner, the prosecuting attorney in the Richard Sharpe trial, with a wry laugh. “Obviously, the jury didn’t agree that shooting your wife at close range is excusable just because you were physically or psychologically abused as a child. He wove quite a tale.’’

But Ablow’s supporters claim that theatricality is an asset in forensic psychiatry. “Most doctors are stodgy, but Ablow puts things in a language the jury can understand,’’ said Joseph Balliro, who hired Ablow while serving as Sharpe’s attorney. “And as opposed to stodginess, I’d rather risk having people say, ‘Oh, he’s just a hired gun.’ ’’

Whether in the courtroom or on TV, Ablow’s persona is the same: the penetrating eye contact, the firm hand gestures, the aura of cool aplomb.

“The courtroom is like a talk show, except the audience is a jury,’’ said Regal, the senior producer of Ablow’s canceled show. “You don’t want them to change the channel or drift off.’’

In any event, Ablow says he won’t be retreating from the public eye anytime soon. He has begun mulling over ideas for a new television program. Friends have suggested that he run for elective office, a possibility he doesn’t rule out. “I think my influence publicly has always been fueled by what I learn from people privately,’’ he said.

After nearly two decades in the business, Ablow has heard tales of loneliness, loss, and brutal abuse. He has listened to steely killers recount their earliest memories - of family, of home, of teenage heartbreak and school bullies.

“Some people have the propensity to be hardened and made evil, but it’s not something that’s deep in their souls when they come onto the planet. And I think that’s very reassuring for people,’’ Ablow said. “It has been for me.’’