Chapter Six:
March 1.
Carson City, Nevada
Southern Grill
12:20p.m.
She reached forward, her small hand resting on the oak table as she lifted her body slightly, trying to get comfortable in the large booth. He watched her through amused eyes. His smug look didn't go unnoticed. Scully arched her bow, silencing him from any vainglorious remarks that surely rested on the tip of his tongue. Taking her fork; she stabbed her salad. "I don't think this is an X-File."
He glanced up upon hearing her revelation, forsaking his hamburger on the plate. "Why you say that?" He asked taking a swig of his coke.
She placed her fork down giving him her undivided attention. "Nothing in the autopsy suggests so. Though the blood analysis is still pending. I haven't got the results back from the lab." She paused and reached into the bag that rested at her feet; pulling out a large vanilla envelope. "I did, however, find something interesting when I preformed the autopsy."
She watched as his brow lifted curiously then lowered her eyes to the vanilla envelope. She shifted the papers around until she finally found the one she had been looking for. She pulled it out in one swift motion and handed it to him. He glanced over it then regarded her with confusion; not sure as to what he was looking at.
"She had a procedure performed on her brain. Most commonly referred to as a transorbital lobotomy." Scully explained.
He stopped reading and glanced up at her from behind the paper. "What the hell is that?"
She grinned; quite pleased that this case was directed more to her studies then his. "It's an extreme procedure used to treat mental illnesses, in which the connections between the prefrontal lobes and the rest of the brain are cut."
She took the paper that he held in his hands and lowered it to the table. Then with her fingers gestured to the front area of the brain. His faced contorted in disgust. "Who came up with that idea?"
"Well," she started leaning back into the booth. "In 1949, Dr. Egas Moniz was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine for the development of prefrontal lobotomy. He, um, based his discovery on a report that a chimpanzee named Becky, who frequently became upset when she made errors during the performance of a food-rewarded task, no longer did once she damaged both sides of her brain; the prefrontal lobes."
He gave her an incredulous look. "You think maybe I need this operation? You know I can get quite testy over food."
She sighed, not indulging him. "Following Moniz's clams that prefrontal surgery was therapeutically successful and had no significant side effects, there was a rapid proliferation of various forms of prefrontal psychosurgery. The transorbital lobotomy was developed in Italy and then popularized in the United States by Walter Freeman in the late 1940s. It involved inserting an ice-pick-like device under the eyelid then driving in through the orbit with a few taps of a mallet, and pushing it into the frontal lobes to sever the connections between the prefrontal lobes and the rest of the brain."
Mulder scrunched up his face then pushed his food out of the way, no longer hungry. "Sounds lovely."
She nodded her head in agreement; quite amused. Then rested her chin on her hand. "That's just it though. The procedure was abandoned in most countries when it was learned that prefrontal lobotomies are of little therapeutic benefit and that they produce a wide range of undesirable side effects, such as amorality, lack of foresight, emotional unresponsiveness, epilepsy, and urinary incontinence. This could, in hindsight, explain the death of our victim."
He appeared to consider this for a moment, his hand massaging over his jaw insightfully. Then he lifted his eyes catching her attention. "Haven't people heard of the benefits of spilling their problems on a sofa and indulging in happy pills? Sounds a lot more feasible then slicing and dicing the brain." He narrowed eyes for a second. "Hey, whatever happened to Dr. Moniz?"
She narrowed her eyes in thought. "From what I recall he was later shot by one of his patients. The bullet became lodged in his spine, rendering him paraplegic."
Mulder cleaned his throat in exasperation. "Talk about irony." He took another drink then added, "Let's talk to the family and see why she had such a procedure preformed. If this isn't an X-File I don't see why we should continue to waste our time."