their experimental drugs on human subjects at his two community clinics near the Texas Medical Center.

But on a strangely warm January day earlier this year, a two-year-old skeleton named Zhirakarov came back to haunt the 1969 Baylor medical school graduate. A seven-page registered letter let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he was on the verge of losing his profitable drug-testing business. The small matter of a dead patient and allegations of a cover-up had put the senior psychiatrist on bad footing with inspectors from the FDA.

At 64, Fabre has long been one of the smaller names behind the success of the wave of new behavioral drugs that has so defined decades of millennial anxiety. Prozac became a national phenomenon when it was first approved in thelate '80s, the subject of talk shows and best-selling books. Drugs like Prozac changed the way Americans thought about themselves and their relationship with the medicine cabinet. And Fabre's clinical trials played akey role in making that relationship possible.

While Fabre has faced public criticism before, particularly for his involvement in drug trials for Prozac and Halcion, his close relationship with big pharma also ensured him a profitable career.

In some ways, it wasn't such an easy road. At least three marriages imploded, and the custody battle with his latest ex-wife for his seven-year-old daughter got pretty nasty. But as court papers showed, Fabre was doing well financially with properties around Houston and Travis County, a Merlin III executive airplane, and an assortment of stocks and bonds in his various