Natural tendencies
Peter Guthrie, sentenced to multiple consecutive life sentences for the gruesome rapes and murders of 25 women (and men) across 15 states, was to be the guinea pig for the Psychopath Rehabilitation Project (PRP).
Dr. Lydia Rothby had dedicated 20 years to PRP and the development of the miracle cure: the only procedure of its kind to offer the possibility of successfully treating psychopathy such that patients would be able to re-enter society as nonthreatening, functional citizens.
For decades, research had indicated there was no cure for psychopathy. There was no pill or vaccine, no talk therapy or surgical procedure that could instill empathy, a caring mind and impulse control in a psychopath. Dr. Lydia Rothby and her team worked tirelessly to disprove the prevailing assumptions. Today, they would test their first human patient.
“Peter, do you understand the process?”
“You do know I’m not an idiot, correct, doctor?”
“Answer the doctor or you can just spend the rest of your first life sentence in solitary,” Warden Jesse Fields, a major opponent of the procedure, spat.
Peter rolled his eyes from the chair in which he was strapped and said, “Yes, doctor. When you’re finished with your little experiment, I won’t remember anything that has ever happened to me, or ostensibly, anything I have ever done. Your miracle pill, amnesiadethylamide, will affect only the hippocampus, neocortex and amygdyla; it will not affect my frontal or temporal lobes, so speech should remain intact. The laser surgery will reinforce the connections between the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC) and the amygdala which will, if your hypothesis is correct, cause me to become less me and more everyone else.” He paused. “Pity, that.”
“I’d like to go on record saying I am categorically against this course of action,” said Warden Fields. “Peter Guthrie is an unrepentant murdering rapist with not a hint of remorse in his body. There is no pill or surgery that can unmake the man. The only good that can come of this is if he dies in the middle of the operation.”
“Not helpful, Warden Fields,” said Dr. Rothby. “You’ve had your say. You can leave now. My team and I can take it from here.”
Warden Fields, checked the restraints, shook his head and left the room.
Post-surgery, a sedated Peter Guthrie was removed from the prison and taken to a remote location where Dr. Rothby and her team could reintroduce him to his new life in a controlled environment that was more a home than a prison and therefore less likely to accidentally activate an unwanted (by the team) memory.
Within a year, Peter Guthrie had demonstrated to all, including the families of victims, that he was not who he had been. He spontaneously showed kindness to animals and people, alike, engaged with the other members of the household (the PRP team and volunteers), learned a trade (plumbing) and was deemed ready to live on his own once he got a job and found a place to live.
He was still monitored and had to check in with a parole officer, although he did not have a memory of what he had done, he was told that his crimes required that he be tracked and supervised for at least another five years.
In the sixth year, he disappeared.
In the ninth, a victim with his signature – PG carved onto every inch of skin of the victim – was found in a shallow grave in the woods a mile from the PRP facility where he’d been “rehabilitated.” It was Warden Fields.
In the tenth year, he sent a letter to Dr. Rothby at the undisclosed location she’d been moved following the discovery Warden Fields:
Dear Dr. Rothby:
I’m so glad I found you so that I could offer my most sincere thanks. I owe you a debt of gratitude for giving me a second chance. I will be far superior to my former self.
I will never forget you and what you did for me.
Yours,
Peter Guthrie