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Using a Risk Spine in Threat Interviews

  • Writer: Dr. Brian Van Brunt
    Dr. Brian Van Brunt
  • Dec 1, 2025
  • 5 min read

Updated: Jan 4


A graphic of a spine with text boxes containing Harm to Others, Harm to Self, Weapons & Other Means, Fixation & Grievance, Leakage, Signals & Containment, and Stressors, Supports & Protective Factors.

If you’ve done threat assessment interviews for any length of time, you’ve had that conversation, the one that starts as a simple “tell us what happened” and somehow

turns into a two-hour TED Talk on geopolitics, academic freedom, childhood trauma, and the decline of Western civilization. You walk out with 17 pages of notes… and realize you never actually asked if the person has access to a gun.

 

That’s where the idea of a risk spine earns its keep.

 

The risk spine is simply the backbone of your interview: the essential risk domains you commit to covering in every case, no matter how messy, grievance-driven, or exhausting the conversation becomes. You still flex, adapt, and follow the subject’s lead in terms of language and pacing. Still, beneath all that, you’re quietly tracking six or so “vertebrae” you don’t let go of: harm to others, harm to self, weapons/means, fixation and grievance, leakage and containment, and stressors and supports.

 

The beauty of this approach is that it respects both sides of the tension we live in as BTAM folks. On one side, we want to be human: present, curious, willing to follow the subject into their metaphors, politics, family story, and sense of injustice. On the other side, we’re accountable: we have to walk into a room full of deans, HR, legal, or law enforcement and be able to say, with a straight face, “Yes, we asked about self-harm. Yes, we asked about weapons. Here’s what we know.” The risk spine keeps us from sacrificing one side for the other.

 

So what actually lives on this spine?

 

You can tweak the labels to match your model, but most teams settle on something like this: harm to others (thoughts, fantasies, justification, targets), harm to self (suicidality, “nothing to lose” mindset, passive death wishes), weapons and other means (access, storage, familiarity), fixation and grievance (how stuck and organized their life is around the injustice), leakage and containment (what they’re already saying or signaling and how they respond to other people’s fear), and stressors/supports (what’s loading the system and what reliably pulls them back from the edge).

 

That might sound suspiciously like a checklist, and here’s where the flexibility comes in. A risk spine is not a 47-item form that you march down in order, regardless of how the person in front of you is reacting. It’s more like a map you keep in your back pocket. You don’t walk into the woods with your nose pressed to the compass, but you also don’t just “vibe it out” and hope you stumble back to the car. You walk, you look around, you follow paths and landmarks, and every so often you glance down and ask, “Have we covered what we need to cover?”

 

In practice, this means you adjust how you ask the questions to match the subject’s openness or defensiveness, while keeping the content non-negotiable. If you’ve got someone reflective and fairly open, you might touch harm to self with something like: “On your worst days, how far do your thoughts go about wanting to be done with all this?” With a bristling, grievance-driven professor who’s already accused you of trying to pathologize him, you might instead say: “You’ve described feeling backed into a corner and exhausted by all of this. When people get pushed that far, sometimes they think about checking out altogether. Is any of that happening for you?” Same vertebra, different language and level of directness.

 

The same is true with weapons. In a calm, rapport-heavy interview, you might ask: “What kinds of firearms or other weapons do you own or regularly use, and where are they stored?” With someone who’s suspicious of any mention of guns, you might start broader: “You’ve talked about people being afraid of what you might do. Part of what we always explore, in any case like this, is whether someone has access to tools that could quickly turn things lethal, like firearms, large quantities of medication, that kind of thing. What fits for you there, if anything?” You’re still covering the same risk domain; you’re just matching the dose to the level of defensiveness in the room.

 

The real magic of a risk spine shows up when the interview goes sideways, as it often does. Maybe you’re 40 minutes in, and you’ve been dragged through a very opinionated tour of foreign policy, departmental politics, and childhood bullying. Instead of leaving the room hoping that “somewhere in there we probably covered what we needed,” you can do a quick internal scan:

  • Harm to others: Did we actually ask if they’ve thought about hurting anyone?

  • Harm to self: We danced around despair, but did we name self-harm or suicide?

  • Weapons: Do we know what they have access to and where it is?

  • Fixation: We definitely got that one, twice.

  • Leakage: Do we know exactly what they said that scared people?

  • Stressors/supports: Have we mapped out what’s loading the system and what calms it?

 

Any blanks become your priority for the next turn in the conversation: “I want to circle back to something we haven’t talked about yet…” or “Earlier you mentioned X; I’d like to go a bit deeper there.”

 

Using a risk spine in threat interviews is less about memorizing clever wording and more about building a habit as a team. Before the interview, you decide who’s holding that structure, maybe one person is the rapport lead, another is the “risk spine lead,” and a third is watching time and process. During the interview, the spine lead isn’t talking the most; they’re tracking the map and nudging the group when a vertebra is missing. After the interview, you do a 60–90 second huddle and simply run down the spine. If you can’t answer one of the domains with at least a sentence or two of data, you label it as a gap and address it with collateral, follow-up contact, or a second interview.

 

The goal here isn’t to turn a human interaction into a cold protocol. It’s exactly the opposite: the risk spine gives you enough structure that you can afford to be more human. You can lean into metaphors, let the person vent a bit, follow an unexpected thread, because you know there’s a backbone underneath all that motion. You’re not trying to remember 30 questions in order; you’re trying to make sure six core areas don’t get lost in the noise.

 

In a world where our interview subjects often show up angry, mistrustful, and absolutely certain that the system is out to get them, that combination of flexible style and non-negotiable content is what makes your work both compassionate and defensible. The risk spine doesn’t solve every problem, but it does keep you from walking out of a three-hour epic rant and realizing you never asked about the one thing the entire team actually needed to know.

 
 
 

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Behavioral Threat Assessment and Management Institute

Brian Van Brunt | brian@dprep.com​​

Bethany Smith | bethany@dprep.com

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