Forensic Psychology: Definition and Functions of the Forensic Psychologist

Say “forensic psychologist” at a dinner table and watch the mental movie begin: a brooding expert in a dim office, a corkboard of photographs, a villain profiled by sunrise. It’s a great movie. It also bears almost no resemblance to the job. Real forensic psychologists spend their weeks reading records, interviewing people in windowless rooms, writing careful reports and sitting in hallways outside courtrooms, waiting to be called.

That gap between screen and reality has consequences. People who might benefit from a forensic psychology evaluation (a parent in a custody dispute, a worker injured on the job, a defendant with an intellectual disability, a witness who isn’t sure what they saw) often don’t know the field exists, or they assume it only deals with criminals. Others fear it, picturing a stranger who will judge their entire character in an hour. Neither picture is accurate, and both can lead to poor decisions at moments when a lot rides on getting it right. Custody schedules, compensation, sentences and a person’s liberty can all turn on what a psychological opinion says and how well everyone grasps its limits. For many families, the first contact comes through a lawyer’s letter, which explains none of it.

So what is it, actually?

This guide covers forensic psychology: its definition, what the forensic psychologist really does, and how it can help you in everyday legal situations.

We’ll also look at where the field came from, where its evidence is strong, and where it should be questioned.

What is forensic psychology, and how is it defined?

Forensic psychology is the application of psychological science and practice to legal questions and the justice system. The word “forensic” comes from the Latin forensis, meaning “of the forum,” the public place where legal matters were argued in ancient Rome.

Researchers and textbook authors define the field in two ways. Curt R. Bartol and Anne M. Bartol, in their textbook Introduction to Forensic Psychology, distinguish a broad definition from a narrow one. The broad version covers research on human behavior relevant to law: how eyewitness memory works, how juries decide, why people offend. The narrow version covers professional practice, where a psychologist works inside or alongside the legal system by assessing people, offering treatment, consulting for courts and giving expert opinions. Both are legitimate, and many professionals do some of each.

A tight, standalone definition: a forensic psychologist is a psychologist who applies knowledge of human behavior, mental health and research methods to questions arising in legal settings, such as courts, prisons, police agencies and child protection systems.

Notice what that definition doesn’t say. It doesn’t say they catch criminals. It doesn’t say they work only on crime. And it doesn’t say they’re the same as a forensic scientist who analyzes DNA, fingerprints or ballistics, because psychologists study minds and behavior, not physical evidence.

The field is broad. Typical areas include:

• Criminal forensic psychology: competence to stand trial, criminal responsibility, sentencing, risk assessment.
• Civil forensic psychology: personal injury, workplace claims, disability, capacity and guardianship.
• Family forensic psychology: custody, parenting capacity, child protection.
• Correctional psychology: assessment and treatment in prisons and community supervision.
• Police and public safety psychology: selection, fitness for duty, critical incident support.
• Research and policy: eyewitness memory, interrogation, jury decision-making, evidence-based reform.

Terminology varies between countries. In the United Kingdom, forensic psychologists are regulated as a distinct practitioner group working heavily in prisons and probation, while in the United States many practitioners are clinical psychologists with additional forensic training. Titles and licensing differ elsewhere, so it’s wise to check what a given title means locally.

The common thread is a particular type of service. It’s the application of psychology to a question that a legal decision-maker has to answer. Everything else is detail.

One more clarification: forensic psychology isn’t psychotherapy for people in trouble with the law, although some forensic psychologists do deliver treatment within correctional settings.

Where did forensic psychology come from?

Mostly from a fight. Early psychologists argued that courts relied on witness testimony that science could show to be unreliable, and lawyers pushed back hard. The field grew from that argument.

The best-known early figure is Hugo Münsterberg, a German-born psychologist at Harvard. His 1908 book On the Witness Stand argued that psychology had useful things to say about memory, suggestion and false confession, and that the legal system was ignoring them. He was right about a surprising amount. He was also a lightning rod: a prominent legal scholar published a famously sarcastic response in 1909, staging an imaginary libel trial against him. Münsterberg’s tone didn’t help, and his claims sometimes outran his evidence. Still, the questions he raised are the ones the field is still working on.

Progress through the twentieth century came in bursts. Psychologists contributed to debates about intelligence testing, juvenile courts and the use of social science evidence in landmark rulings. Clinical psychologists were increasingly asked to assess defendants. By the 1970s and 1980s, specialized training programs, journals and professional organizations had formed, and the field began to look like a discipline and not a set of individual experts.

Recognition followed. In 2001, the American Psychological Association formally recognized forensic psychology as a specialty, and professional guidelines have since tried to set standards for competence, impartiality and method. Other countries developed their own routes, often tied to prison and probation services.

Research grew in parallel. Studies of memory, decision-making and mental illness fed into legal debates, and some findings changed practice. Eyewitness identification procedures, for instance, were revised in many places following decades of experiments, a story we’ll return to.

It’s worth being honest that the relationship between psychology and law remains uneasy. Law values precedent, certainty and adversarial testing. Psychology deals in probabilities, uncertainty and revision. A psychologist who says “it depends” sounds evasive in a courtroom; a lawyer who demands a yes-or-no answer may be asking for more than the science can provide.

Why does this history matter to you? Because it explains the field’s habits: caution, documentation, and a preference for multiple sources over a single impression. Those habits came from decades of watching confident experts get things wrong.

Münsterberg’s enthusiasm also offers a lesson: a field can be right in broad direction and still overreach in specifics.

Is forensic psychology like the crime shows?

No. Television turns the field into criminal profiling and instant breakthroughs, but real practice is slower, more varied and much more about assessment and evidence than about hunting offenders.

Let’s go through the main myths, because they shape what people expect when they actually meet one of these professionals.

Myth: forensic psychologists are mostly profilers. Criminal profiling, the attempt to infer an offender’s traits from a crime scene, exists, but evidence for its accuracy is mixed and it’s a very small part of the field. Most practitioners never do it. They do evaluations, treatment, consultation and research.

Myth: they work mostly on murders. A large share of the work is civil and family: custody evaluations, injury claims, workplace disputes, capacity assessments for older adults. Criminal cases are important, though they’re far from the whole picture.

Myth: they can tell when someone is lying. Research suggests that people, including professionals, are only a little better than chance at detecting lies from behavior. Forensic psychologists use records, structured interviews and validity tests to check consistency, but they don’t claim to read minds.

Myth: their opinion decides the case. It doesn’t. Judges and juries decide. An expert opinion is evidence to be weighed, challenged and sometimes rejected.

Myth: they see everyone as a suspect. A good forensic evaluator is trained to be neutral, which includes considering explanations that favor the person being assessed.

Here’s a more typical week, as an illustrative composite. Monday: reading a stack of medical and school records for a custody evaluation. Tuesday: a three-hour interview with a parent. Wednesday: testing and a phone call with a child’s teacher. Thursday: writing, then rewriting a paragraph about the limits of a test score. Friday: a court appearance delayed by two hours and then postponed. Nobody solves a case by Friday.

Why do the myths persist? Entertainment needs speed and certainty, and real expertise offers slow, qualified answers. A show can’t spend ten minutes on the phrase “the data are mixed.”

The dull truth is more useful to you. If you ever encounter a forensic psychologist, expect structure, paperwork and questions that seem repetitive, because consistency across sources is the point.

Our separate guide on psychological reports at the judicial level goes deeper into what those reports contain and how to judge them.

What are the main functions of a forensic psychologist?

A forensic psychologist typically performs six functions: assessment, treatment, consultation, expert testimony, research, and training or policy work. Which ones they do depends on their setting and specialization.

Thomas Grisso, one of the field’s most cited scholars, has long argued that forensic assessment is the core professional task, and that it differs from clinical assessment because it targets legal questions. In Evaluating Competencies, he describes assessing functional abilities that the law cares about, such as grasping the charges and assisting a lawyer. His point has a practical edge: courts need to know what a person can and can’t do in specific contexts, not simply what label they carry.

Here’s what the six functions look like in practice:

• Assessment: evaluating competence, criminal responsibility, parenting capacity, psychological injury, risk of violence, or fitness for duty, using interviews, records and standardized tests.
• Treatment: delivering therapy in correctional or community settings, often for anger, substance use, trauma or offending behavior.
• Consultation: advising attorneys on psychological issues, helping police agencies with training, or supporting jury selection research.
• Expert testimony: explaining findings and opinions in court, subject to cross-examination and rules of evidence.
• Research: studying questions like eyewitness memory, interrogation methods and recidivism, then feeding findings back into practice.
• Training and policy: teaching legal professionals, shaping guidelines, and advising lawmakers.

A forensic psychologist rarely does all six. Someone in a prison may focus on treatment and risk assessment, while a private practitioner may focus on civil and family evaluations. An academic may spend most of her time on research and teaching.

Roles also have ethical boundaries. Because the person being assessed isn’t the evaluator’s patient in the usual sense, professional guidelines advise against combining assessment and treatment for the same individual. A therapist who treats you shouldn’t also be the neutral expert evaluating you, since each role requires different duties and different relationships.

Imagine Owen, 47, a worker who developed severe anxiety after a workplace accident and is now in a compensation dispute. His therapist helps him cope. A separate forensic psychologist, hired by the insurer or the court, assesses the extent and cause of his symptoms. They aren’t rivals; they’re doing different jobs, and Owen is better protected when each stays in their lane.

Notice also what the function list leaves out: forensic psychologists don’t decide guilt, punish anyone, or give legal advice. They provide psychological information.

Which function you’re likely to meet depends on the situation you’re in, and that’s the subject of the next few sections.

How can forensic psychology help when memory is on trial?

It helps courts understand how fallible and malleable eyewitness memory is, and it has driven reforms to how identifications are collected and evaluated. Confidence and accuracy aren’t the same thing.

Consider Nadia, 40, an illustrative witness to a street robbery. She’s certain about the face she picked from a lineup. Weeks later, she learns that the person she chose was innocent. Her certainty was real. Her memory wasn’t reliable. This happens, and not rarely.

The classic demonstration comes from Elizabeth F. Loftus and John Palmer. In a 1974 experiment, participants watched film clips of car accidents and then estimated how fast the cars were going. Those asked how fast the cars were going when they “smashed” into each other gave higher estimates, around 40 versus 32 miles per hour for the milder word “contacted.” A week later, the “smashed” group was also more likely to say they had seen broken glass, though none appeared in the film. The wording of a question had altered what people remembered.

That finding, part of what became known as the misinformation effect, changed how many researchers think about memory. Remembering isn’t playing back a recording. It’s reconstructing a scene, and the reconstruction can absorb later information, leading questions and social pressure.

Forensic psychologists use this research in several ways. They consult on how identification procedures should be designed (for example, how lineups are presented and how witnesses are questioned). They testify as experts about memory in cases where identification is central. They assess children and vulnerable witnesses with developmentally sensitive interviewing methods. And they train investigators to avoid suggestive questioning.

Some facts worth keeping in mind. Stress and weapons can narrow attention and degrade later recall of other details. Cross-racial identifications are often less accurate than same-race ones. Witness confidence at trial can be inflated by feedback received after the identification. None of this means witnesses can’t be useful; it means their evidence needs careful handling.

Limits apply here, too. Memory research cannot tell a court whether a particular witness is right. It can only say how reliable certain kinds of memory tend to be under certain conditions, and the evidence varies by setting. Experts should resist the temptation to say more than the research supports.

If you’ve been a witness, the practical lesson is straightforward: tell the investigator what you remember, say when you’re unsure, and avoid discussing details with other witnesses beforehand.

Your honest “I’m not certain” is worth more to a court than a confident error.

How does forensic psychology help prevent false confessions?

By studying why innocent people sometimes confess and by recommending safeguards. Certain tactics, certain vulnerabilities and long, high-pressure interrogations raise the risk of a false confession, and the research gives courts and police useful warnings.

The question sounds absurd until you hear the research. Why would anyone confess to something they didn’t do? A leading answer comes from Saul M. Kassin and colleagues, whose 2010 review for the American Psychology-Law Society examined police-induced confessions. They described how risk factors include youth, intellectual disability, mental illness and suggestibility, and how interrogation tactics such as lengthy questioning, minimization of consequences and presenting false evidence can push people toward admitting something. A person who is tired, frightened and told that denial is pointless may start to see confession as the quickest exit.

Take Chidi, 19, an illustrative university student questioned for hours about a theft he didn’t commit. Told that a camera shows him at the scene (it doesn’t), exhausted and promised that “this will go easier if you cooperate,” he begins to doubt himself. Eventually he signs a statement. Cases like this have been documented, which is why researchers don’t treat confession as proof.

The same review made practical recommendations. One of the best known is the recording of entire interrogations, from beginning to end, so that courts can see how a statement was produced and not just the final version. Others include special protections for juveniles and people with cognitive impairments, and caution about tactics that involve deception. Many jurisdictions have adopted some of these measures, and practice differs widely.

Here’s how a forensic psychologist might contribute:

• Assessing a person’s suggestibility and compliance, using standardized tools alongside interviews.
• Evaluating vulnerabilities, such as intellectual disability, mental illness or age, that may have influenced the confession.
• Advising courts on the research about interrogation and false confession, without claiming a particular confession is false.
• Training investigators in non-coercive interviewing methods.

Caution is required, as ever. Most confessions are true, and research on false confessions doesn’t show that interrogation is generally unreliable. It shows that certain conditions raise the risk. Psychologists also can’t tell a judge whether a given person is lying; they can explain whether the circumstances matched known risk patterns.

Some readers might think this field is soft on crime. It’s the opposite of that. Better interviewing finds the real offender sooner and keeps innocent people out of the frame.

If you’re ever questioned by police, it’s reasonable to ask for a lawyer before answering anything.

Can forensic psychology help assess risk and support rehabilitation?

Yes. Forensic psychologists assess the risk that someone will reoffend or behave violently and design programs that reduce that risk. The best evidence favors structured methods and treatment matched to the person.

First, risk assessment. Jennifer L. Skeem and John Monahan summarized the state of violence risk assessment in a 2011 article, noting that structured approaches outperform unaided clinical judgment and that tools can sort people into higher and lower risk groups with moderate accuracy. They also stressed the limits: predictions about an individual are imperfect, a “high risk” score isn’t a prophecy, and the most useful assessments identify dynamic risk factors (such as substance use, unstable housing or antisocial attitudes) that can be changed. Treating risk assessment as a way to plan management, and not only as a way to label people, is the field’s more constructive direction.

Then, rehabilitation. Don A. Andrews and James Bonta developed the Risk-Need-Responsivity model, described in a 2010 paper. It rests on three ideas: match the intensity of intervention to the person’s level of risk (risk principle), target the factors that are driving offending (need principle), and tailor the delivery to the person’s learning style, motivation and abilities (responsivity principle). Programs that follow these principles tend to reduce reoffending more than those that don’t, according to their review. That’s a meaningful finding, though effect sizes are modest, and implementation matters a lot.

What does this look like in practice? A forensic psychologist working with a probation service might assess a young adult with a history of assaults, identify anger problems and heavy drinking as key drivers, and recommend cognitive behavioral therapy for anger plus substance use treatment. A low-risk first offender might get minimal intervention, since intensive programs for low-risk people can sometimes backfire.

Consider Leila, 33, an illustrative person on community supervision after a conviction. She’s offered a program of structured support: housing help, counseling and a job placement scheme. She isn’t “cured.” But her risk of re-offending falls as the factors behind her behavior are addressed.

The field faces real criticism here. Risk tools may carry bias if they rely on data shaped by unequal policing and sentencing. Some people receive harsher treatment because of statistical group membership. Ethical practice means being transparent about uncertainty, avoiding sole reliance on a score, and listening to the person being assessed.

It’s also fair to question the aim. Rehabilitation is not soft; it’s the approach with the best research record for reducing future harm. Punishment alone has a weaker record for preventing repeat offending.

The goal, in short, is fewer victims later, not only consequences now.

How can forensic psychology help me personally?

It can help whenever a legal decision turns on psychology: custody, injury claims, capacity, criminal responsibility, immigration, workplace disputes, being a witness or victim, even serving as a juror. Here are common situations.

A parent in a custody dispute may need a neutral assessment of the family’s circumstances. A person injured in an accident may need evidence of psychological harm to support a claim. A defendant with an intellectual disability or severe mental illness may need an evaluation of competence. An older adult’s family may need clarity about decision-making capacity. An asylum seeker may need documentation of trauma. Each of these needs somebody who knows both psychology and how courts work.

Examples of how it might help:

• Custody and family disputes: neutral evaluation of parenting capacities, a child’s adjustment and family dynamics, to inform the court.
• Injury and workplace claims: assessment of whether symptoms are linked to the event, how severe they are, and what recovery might look like.
• Criminal defense or prosecution: evaluating competence, responsibility, mitigation, and the reliability of statements.
• Victims and witnesses: interview methods that protect accuracy and reduce distress, plus assessment of impact.
• Older adults and guardianship: evaluating capacity to manage money, health and property, with an emphasis on preserving independence where possible.

Picture Mei, 55, an illustrative employee who experienced months of harassment and now has insomnia, panic and difficulty concentrating. Her lawyer arranges an independent evaluation. The psychologist reviews medical records, interviews her, administers symptom measures, checks the consistency of her account and discusses other possible causes. The resulting report describes her condition and its likely link to the events, with caveats. It doesn’t promise she’ll win. It gives the court something solid to weigh.

Think, too, about what forensic psychology cannot do for you. It can’t act as your lawyer, guarantee an outcome, or replace therapy. If you need treatment, seek a therapist who isn’t involved in the legal process. If you need legal advice, consult a lawyer. A forensic psychologist’s job is to provide an independent psychological opinion.

It’s often your lawyer who decides whether to bring in a forensic psychologist, so start the conversation with them. Ask what question the expert would answer, what it might cost, how long it would take, and what risks exist. That last point is worth emphasis: an evaluation can produce unwelcome findings, and your lawyer can help you weigh that.

If you’re wondering whether your situation fits, a useful test is simple. Does the legal decision depend on something psychological, like capacity, harm, risk or reliability? If so, forensic psychology may be relevant.

And if you’re simply curious about the field as a career, the next section covers training.

How do you become one, and how does the role differ from similar jobs?

Most forensic psychologists hold a doctoral degree in psychology, complete supervised clinical or applied training, obtain a license or professional registration, and add specialized forensic training. Requirements vary by country, so check local rules.

A typical route: an undergraduate degree in psychology, a doctorate (PhD or PsyD in many places, or a professional doctorate in others), supervised practice hours, licensure or chartered status, and postdoctoral or specialist training in forensic assessment. Some countries have defined pathways; in the United Kingdom, for example, forensic psychologists train through accredited routes and work frequently in prison and probation services, while in the United States forensic practice often builds on clinical psychology licensure, with optional board certification.

Many people confuse neighboring professions. The table sets out the main differences.

One note about the prescribing column: a handful of jurisdictions allow specially trained psychologists to prescribe, so the “usually no” is a general statement, not a universal rule.

Skills matter as much as qualifications. Good forensic psychologists tend to be careful writers, patient interviewers and comfortable with uncertainty and conflict. Cross-examination isn’t for everyone. The work can also be emotionally heavy, involving descriptions of violence, abuse and loss, which makes supervision and self-care part of the job.

When checking a professional’s credentials, look for a valid license or registration, training in forensic assessment, relevant experience, and a willingness to explain methods. Be wary of someone who calls themselves a “forensic psychologist” with a short online certificate and no license. Titles are sometimes protected by law, sometimes not.

It’s also reasonable to ask about the evaluator’s track record with both sides of the aisle. Someone who always works for the same party may be less independent in practice.

If you’re a student, internships in correctional, court or community settings are the best way to find out whether the day-to-day reality suits you.

What are the limits, risks and ethical questions?

Forensic psychology has real limits: predictions are imperfect, methods can be biased, experts can overreach, and the adversarial system can distort evidence. A careful field names these openly.

Start with overreach. Psychologists sometimes get asked questions science can’t answer, such as who is telling the truth, what “really” happened, or which parent is better. Good practice means staying within the evidence and saying “that’s beyond what the data can show.” Not every expert does.

Then bias. Evaluators are human, and research on expert decision-making has found that allegiance to the side that hires them can subtly shape their judgments. Safeguards include using structured methods, considering alternative explanations, documenting reasoning and, where possible, peer consultation.

Then dual roles. A clinician who treats someone shouldn’t also write a forensic opinion about them. Doing both blurs loyalty and objectivity, and it can damage the therapy. Professional guidelines caution strongly against it.

Then cultural and group fairness. Tests and risk tools developed in one population may not work equally well in another, and language, culture and trauma can affect results. A competent evaluator considers these factors and avoids reading a score without context.

Then confidentiality. In forensic work, what you say may not be private. The evaluator should explain limits at the outset, and you should ask if they don’t. Treat a forensic interview as a different kind of conversation from therapy.

What can you do as a layperson to protect yourself? Ask who the client is. Ask who will receive the report. Ask what methods will be used. Bring documents. Be honest, including about what you don’t remember. Don’t try to “perform” a version of yourself. And talk to your lawyer before and after.

The field has also made progress by facing its mistakes. Reforms to eyewitness procedures, interview methods and risk assessment came from researchers testing the field’s own assumptions, sometimes painfully. That self-scrutiny is a sign of health.

No profession gets everything right. A psychologist who says what they don’t know is often the one worth trusting.

FAQs about Forensic Psychology and the Forensic Psychologist

What is forensic psychology in simple terms?

It’s the use of psychology to answer questions that come up in legal settings. A forensic psychologist might assess whether a defendant understands the charges, evaluate a family for a custody decision, study how eyewitness memory works, or help design treatment for people in prison. The word forensic means related to courts and law. The field includes both research, which studies behavior relevant to the law, and practice, where professionals work with courts, police, prisons and families. It’s not the same as forensic science, which analyzes physical evidence like DNA or fingerprints.

What does a forensic psychologist do on a typical day?

It varies by setting. A private evaluator might spend a day reading records, interviewing someone for an assessment, scoring tests and writing a report. A prison-based psychologist may run treatment groups, assess risk and consult with staff. A researcher might analyze data on memory or interrogation. Many days involve more writing and waiting than anything dramatic, and court appearances are less frequent than television suggests. The common thread is careful documentation, because their conclusions may be challenged by lawyers and examined by judges.

How can a forensic psychologist help me if I’m not a criminal?

Quite a lot of forensic work has nothing to do with crime. Custody and family disputes, injury and compensation claims, workplace harassment cases, guardianship and capacity questions, and immigration cases involving trauma may all call for a forensic evaluation. Witnesses and victims can benefit from interview methods that protect accuracy and reduce distress. If a legal decision in your life depends on psychological questions such as harm, capacity or parenting, it’s worth asking your lawyer whether a forensic psychologist could help.

Is a forensic psychologist the same as a criminal profiler?

No. Criminal profiling, the practice of inferring an offender’s characteristics from crime scene behavior, is a small and contested area, and most forensic psychologists never do it. Their typical work involves assessing people, treating clients, consulting for courts and researching behavior. The profiler of television dramas, who identifies a culprit from a few clues, is largely fiction. Real profiling evidence is mixed, and it’s best seen as one possible investigative aid and not as a reliable method of identifying specific individuals.

Do forensic psychologists work for the defense or the prosecution?

Either, or neither. Some are hired by defense lawyers, some by prosecutors, some by courts, and many work in neutral roles such as prison services or research. Ethical guidelines ask them to remain impartial and base opinions on data, whichever side retained them. That said, critics note that financial and professional pressures can create bias, which is why careful methods and transparency matter. If you’re evaluated, ask who hired the evaluator, who will receive the report and what the limits of confidentiality are before you begin.

Can a forensic psychologist read minds or tell if I’m lying?

No. Research shows that most people, including trained professionals, detect lies only slightly better than chance when relying on behavior alone. Forensic psychologists use records, structured interviews, consistency checks and validity tests to assess how credible an account appears, and they report uncertainty. They can describe patterns and risks. They can’t say with certainty that someone is lying or telling the truth, and courts generally leave that judgment to the judge or jury, with expert testimony as one input among many.

What qualifications should a forensic psychologist have?

In most places, a doctoral degree in psychology, supervised clinical or applied training, a license or professional registration, and specialized training in forensic assessment. Additional credentials, such as board certification in some countries, can indicate advanced competence. Check the license with the relevant regulator, ask about experience with your type of case, and be cautious about anyone offering a quick certificate and a grand title. A good professional will explain their methods, their fees and the limits of what they can say, without promising a particular outcome.

Is forensic psychology a good career?

For the right person, yes. It combines science, ethics and real-world consequences, and it offers varied settings: courts, prisons, community services, universities and private practice. It also demands a long training path, comfort with conflict and tolerance for disturbing material. Salaries and job availability depend on the country and setting, so research local conditions before committing. If you’re curious, volunteering or interning in a justice-related setting, shadowing a practitioner, and reading widely can help you test your interest before you invest years in training.

Bibliography

• Andrews, D. A., & Bonta, J. (2010). Rehabilitating criminal justice policy and practice. Psychology, Public Policy, and Law, 16(1), 39-55.
• Bartol, C. R., & Bartol, A. M. (2018). Introduction to forensic psychology: Research and application (5th ed.). SAGE Publications.
• Grisso, T. (2003). Evaluating competencies: Forensic assessments and instruments (2nd ed.). Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers.
• Kassin, S. M., Drizin, S. A., Grisso, T., Gudjonsson, G. H., Leo, R. A., & Redlich, A. D. (2010). Police-induced confessions: Risk factors and recommendations. Law and Human Behavior, 34(1), 3-38.
• Loftus, E. F., & Palmer, J. C. (1974). Reconstruction of automobile destruction: An example of the interaction between language and memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 13(5), 585-589.
• Münsterberg, H. (1908). On the witness stand: Essays on psychology and crime. Doubleday, Page & Company.
• Skeem, J. L., & Monahan, J. (2011). Current directions in violence risk assessment. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(1), 38-42.