As ordered by the United States District Court, Midland, Texas, I, Dr. Dutch, MD, PhD, have been requested to perform a forensic psychiatric evaluation of one Anton Chigurh, born March 12, 1945, on a farm near Marfa, Presidio County, Texas. In this report, we aim to reconstruct Mr. Chigurh’s childhood to provide the court with insight into his psychotic and disturbing behavior. We will then offer recommendations for the most appropriate way to proceed.
As stated, Mr. Chigurh was born on a small farm near the town of Marfa, Texas, to his father, Clyde, and mother, Ethel. His mother was a housewife, while his father tended to the family’s livestock. Given the remote location of the family farm and the practical focus of his parents’ occupations, it is likely that Mr. Chigurh received minimal formal education, if any, and may have been effectively home-schooled by his parents.
This lack of conventional schooling likely contributed to social isolation and the uncorrected emergence of early antisocial tendencies. Due to the isolated nature of his upbringing, available information regarding Mr. Chigurh’s early development is limited. However, from the evidence that could be gathered, it appears that signs of psychopathic tendencies were present at a young age. Notably, Mr. Chigurh killed his first chicken with his cold little bare hands at the age of eight, demonstrating an early and disturbing lack of empathy toward poultry.
Most of his puberty was spent roaming the vast and empty landscapes surrounding his parents’ farm. It was in this isolation that his psychopathy became firmly cemented. And once he donned that truly awful bowl-cut haircut and stole his father’s captive bolt pistol, there was no turning back. It is, therefore, to this doctor’s most educated guess, that this poor boy, all alone in that cold, empty desert, couldn’t handle the silence. The silence of the chickens.
Now, to proceed, we must briefly touch upon the events leading up to Mr. Chigurh’s arrest. As stated in the initial filing, he has been accused of tapping the life out of some innocent bystander by the side of the road without so much as blinking just one of his cold, dead eyes, but since there were no witnesses of this event, I suggest we move on to the proceedings surrounding Mr. Earl Leroy McGraw, gas station proprietor, located at 4212 State Route 218, near Valentine, Presidio County, Texas. We, the doctor, spoke at length with Mr. McGraw, and we think we can discern quite a bit from the happenings. The encounter, superficially a simple exchange of coin and words, revealed patterns of control, detachment, and the chilling mechanization of human interaction that appear consistent with Mr. Chigurh’s long-standing psychopathy.
You see, it is in observing the cold, hard logic that’s been represented by the finality of a single yes or no that we see the emptiness of the Texan landscape mirrored in Chigurh’s stone dead soul. Like Proust stated so clearly (and Hackenberger before him) in his riveting work ‘The Anatomy of a Severed Chicken’ (1983, Syndrome Publishing): “It is only in the bleak, terrible realization of total emptiness that we, human beings, can, for the first time, come to grips with the agonizing, but at the same time beautiful insight that maybe, just maybe, there are no deities left in this barren, godforsaken universe. And it is so that we find that, in fair conclusion, all life is complete and utter meaningless.” (page 182, paragraph 2) It is, therefore, this doctor’s most solemn of conclusions, good sirs, that Mr. Chigurh can best be treated in the facility of my good friend and colleague Doctor… What’s that? He just escaped again and murdered three guards in the process? Well, that’s… That’s just great. You know what? I wish you all the best of luck with that freaking psycho. I’m done.
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