Faith
- Kathryn
- Jun 2, 2015
- 3 min read

The X-Files is a show about the truth, which often turns it into a show about believing your own experiences and listening to the experiences of others. Mulder and Scully face up against the gaslighting of shady government agencies, the distrust of their superiors, the mockery of their peers, and their own preexisting beliefs on what is possible and what is impossible. In many episodes it's just Mulder and Scully: no backup, no support from anyone, just them trying to figure out what kind of shady shenanigans are actually going on. And then trying to do something about it.
In Tooms, an episode early in the nine-season run, Mulder testifies at a serial killer's review. The man is Eugene Tooms, caught earlier that season while trying to menace Scully in a bathtub (of course), and he stands to be released. It's an episode that opens with a lot of long, dark hallways and soft-voiced doctors. Tooms, played by someone who looks like a very sweatly, very young Tim Curry to me, subsists on human livers to extend his life, and he can mutate his body to creep into supposedly unattainable places. Court-appointed expert witnesses speak about Tooms' attack on Scully but make no mention of the case Mulder investigated about him: they leave out the whole liver-eating body-stretching hibernating-in-a-monstrous-coccoon thing.
Enter Mulder. Enter Scully, too: she sneaks into the back as he begins his testimony. The court asks Mulder to share his profile of Tooms and Mulder obliges them with a thorough overview of Tooms' superhuman abilities of mutation and longetivity. 19 homicides, 5 occurring every 30 years since 1903, all in the Baltimore area, each victim conspicuously missing their liver.
At this point you can see Scully shaking her head and looking away.
The lawyer and doctors begin to voice their disbelief. Mulder presses valiantly on. Someone calls out, "Thank you Agent Mulder," and the judge begins to try to quiet the room. The judge and the counsel begin to talk over Mulder. The judge finally shouts and strikes her gavel.
It's the truth -- his own eyewitness report and work -- but it's received with exasperation and completely disregarded. Tooms is released.
"You think they would have taken me more seriously if I wore the gray suit?" Mulder asks Scully afterwards.
Scully looks away. "Mulder, your testimony, you sounded so --"
We never find out what Scully thought about Mulder's testimony, though, although we can hazard some guesses, because Mulder cuts her off. "I don't care how it sounded as long as it was the truth," he says.
Scully sighs.
But I think about that line a lot. I think about how many times I've abbreviated or diluted the impact of my experiences when I've spoken about them to other people. I think about all that I've left on the cutting room floor, all that I've never said. I think about why I've felt the instinct to shy away from my own truth because of how it could be perceived by those around me. I think about the times I did speak and the times I suffered because of it, and why that moved me to retreat rather than speak up more. And I wish that I had Mulder's courage, the strength of his conviction.
Reality is a strange thing for me, something I don't always grasp, something that has never quiet become stable. I'm not good at having faith in my own perception. In recognizing what is true for me.
But that truth is out there.
Somewhere.
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