Daddy, I gotta GO! I’m gonna ex-plode!
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
We’re gonna be late for baseball practice, Danny.
JUDGE’S VOICE
…on the charge of murder in the first degree…bail set at one hundred thousand…
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…can stop at the gas station on the way…
SHERRIFF’S VOICE
…picked him up about ten miles from the scene…
DANIEL’S VOICE
Can I get a slushy?
BETH LEYALND’S VOICE
We’ll see. Don’t forget your glove…
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE
…a razor blade found at the gas station with the blood of…
BETH LEYLAND’S VOICE
…left it over by the swings…
DOCTOR’S VOICE
…the suspect’s dehydrated, but he’ll live…
SHERRIFF’S VOICE
…didn’t even put up a fight. Just got into the squad car like he was expecting us.
CLERK’S VOICE
Hey, Beth. Scott. Cherry slushy for you, Danny?
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…the key to the bathroom…
DOCTOR’S VOICE
…all we could do for Daniel, but…
ALDINE’S VOICE
…what you saw when you entered the bathroom, Mr. Leyland.
DOCTOR’S VOICE
…had lost too much blood…
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…a man walking out…held the door for me…
FEMALE CUSTOMER’S VOICE
…young, twenty-ish, went around back to the bathrooms…
CLERK’S VOICE
…on your way to ball practice, huh Danny?
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…got quite an arm on him.
FEMALE CUSTOMER’S VOICE
…saw him walking north on Prentice Avenue a few minutes later.
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE
…services for Daniel Leyland to be held…
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…couldn’t get the door open…something was blocking it…
SHERRIFF’S VOICE
…body on the floor approximately three inches from the door. Blood spatter was…
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…blood…everywhere…on his cap, on the floor…
SHERRIFF’S VOICE
…eyes still open…arm at a forty-degree angle blocking—get a picture of that, Officer Watson.
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
…so small. His face..so white…Beth came up behind me…I tried to block her view…
DANIEL’S VOICE
…gonna let me play first base today!
SCOTT LEYLAND’S VOICE
Jesus, we’re gonna be late for practice! Fine! We’ll stop at the gas station on the way.
BETH LEYLAND’S VOICE
Oh my God! Danny! Oh my God!
Scene Five
There is a lectern at the edge of the stage with a yellow legal pad on it. GRAINE paces about the space as she speaks. During the scene, GRAINE picks up the legal pad and carries it with her as she paces, but she does not look at it. These are her lecture notes, but she does not need to consult them. She knows the material by heart, but carries the legal pad for security and out of habit. Her lecturing style is reminiscent of a great actor performing the role she has created.
GRAINE
…and according to McKenzie v. the State of California, the supposition that the accused was being medicated with lithium at the time the crime occurred is not admissible. In that particular case, there was no hard evidence that the accused was, in fact, taking the meds, nor that he was ever supplied with them by a reputable pharmacy. No testimony was presented by the State that could prove that the defendant was medicated at the time of the crime. He was not under a physician’s care, nor was he being supervised by any qualified person. Therefore, he could be assumed to have been chemically unbalanced at the time of the crime and could not be held accountable. Is there a Catch-22 here? Yes. The defense had to prove that the defendant was, at the time of his arrest and subsequent arraignment, medicated with lithium prescribed by a doctor for the treatment of schizophrenia. Why? Because the defense had to show that, at the time of his arrest, the defendant was in an altered state. That is, he was altered from his usual state, which was, to use the technical jargon, one banana short of a split. That is why, in the altered state—the condition brought about by the medication—he appeared sane when he was arrested and arraigned. But he was not sane at the time of his crime because no one saw him taking his meds. So, how do we know he was on the meds during the arrest? We don’t. We’ll never know for sure. But how did the defense prove it? Has anyone heard of the principle known as Okham’s Razor? It states that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. So, what simple fact did the defense enter into evidence to prove that Billy McKenzie was not on his lithium when he shot Alice Grant, but that he was when the police knocked on his door three days later? They entered defense exhibit number 58: a half-empty bottle of lithium with a prescription dated one day before the killing. Does that mean that McKenzie took his lithium for those four days? No. It just means that they couldn’t prove that he flushed it down the toilet, so the simplest explanation was that he took it.
GRAINE pauses and seems to be waiting for applause.
And, as this is a class in impairment defenses, you’ll have to save your moral outrage for ethics class. Read chapters ten through sixteen and take a look at the Bowman v. Jeffers case for Monday. Oh…have a nice weekend.
GRAINE goes to the podium, arranges her notes, and begins stuffing them into a satchel. THRINH NGUYEN approaches from the direction of the audience. She carries a backpack slung over one shoulder. She wears a large but not gaudy gold cross around her neck on a chain, which she fiddles with whenever she is nervous, as she is now.
THRINH
Dr. Goodwin, I just wanted—
GRAINE
Without turning around
I’m not a doctor. I don’t have a PhD in law or philosophy, like most of my esteemed colleagues. I’m just an ordinary lawyer.
THRINH
Oh. I’m sorry. What I mean is—
GRAINE
Turning around
Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Never take the blame for something you didn’t do. And try to avoid taking the blame even if you did. What’s your name?
THRINH
Thrinh Nguyen. I’m a second year.
GRAINE
This is a third year class, Thrinh Nguyen. Feeling a little in over your head?
THRINH
No, Doc—Professor Goodwin. I got instructor permission to be here. Remember, I came to your office in January?
GRAINE
Suddenly recalling the earlier encounter
Two years of law school in Hanoi. How old are you?
THRINH
I know, I look young. Twenty-four.
GRAINE
You sound embarrassed. Is it a social faux-pas to be young in Vietnam?
THRINH
No…I…
GRAINE
It’s okay. Never be embarrassed of what you are. In the end, it’s all you’ve got left.
THRINH
I never thought of it that way.
GRAINE
Besides, it’s not about you, remember? It’s about the client. Don’t ever let the cross-examination get personal. What’s on your mind?
THRINH
It’s just that people already have trouble believing that we have law schools in Vietnam, or law for that matter, much less that I’m old enough to be here, so sometimes it feels like a handicap to look young, that’s all.
GRAINE
I’m going to track you down when you’re my age and remind you that you said that. I mean, what did you want to see me about?
THRINH
Oh! Um…the summer. My
advisor wants me to get a clerkship with a judge in Miami, but I was really hoping I could stay nearby, and I heard it around the halls that you know someone at the local defense firm down in Bethany.
GRAINE
I used to. And I suspect your advisor wants you to go someplace where you can learn more than how to defend someone against unpaid parking tickets. Why?
THRINH
It’s sort of…personal.
GRAINE
I see. And it can’t be personal in Miami.
THRINH
Laughs
No, I don’t think she would like Miami.
GRAINE
She?
THRINH
My…my mother. She’s lived in Bethany for eleven years.
GRAINE
And she still needs you to take care of her?
THRINH
No. She’s very independent. She’s the one who encouraged me to go back to Vietnam for law school in the first place. But…my father died a few months ago. That’s why I came back. And I don’t want to go away again so soon. She likes to pretend she’s okay, but I think she’s…well, I’d just like to stick around for a while, if I can.
GRAINE
Without giving up your summer internship. I understand. I’m sorry.
THRINH
Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do, right?
GRAINE
I’ll see what I can do.
THRINH
Thank you sooooo much!
GRAINE
I can’t make any promises. Leslie Baker owes me a favor. She was a prosecutor for the state when I was practicing in the capital.
THRINH
Um…actually, I was thinking of Adam Crawford. Didn’t you go to law school with him?
GRAINE
I’ve barely spoken to Adam since then. He doesn’t make it up to the University very much, and I try and stay away from Bethany.
THRINH
Why’s that?
GRAINE
Ghosts. Did you know that Bethany has more haunted houses than any community with a population under 40,000 in the United States? But you’re not interested in local history. I think you’ve gotten caught up in current events.
THRINH
Oh…well…I don’t know…
GRAINE
Thrinh, never assume you know more than your opponent. I may not stray far from campus, but I still read the papers. Look, I’ll see what I can do about Adam, but don’t give up on Miami just yet, okay?
THRINH
I understand. Professor Goodwin? My mother went to your father’s church. She says she misses his sermons. She says she wishes she had his words to comfort her over the past few months.
GRAINE
Thank you. He would have appreciated that.
There is an awkward pause, as neither of them knows how to end the conversation. THRINH fiddles with her cross, and GRAINE tries to keep from looking at it. Finally, THRINH moves to go.
THRINH
Well…I guess I’d better get busy on that reading. I’m so used to reading in Vietnamese. It takes me longer than it used to in English. Why did you leave your practice in the capital anyway?
GRAINE
I guess it was because I won a case I wish I would have lost. Why study law in Vietnam if you could study closer to home?
THRINH
Over there, we don’t have Okham’s Razor.
Scene Six
OSCAR is alone in his cell.
OSCAR
(sings):
TWAS GRACE THAT TAUGHT MY HEART TO FEAR
AND GRACE MY FEAR RELIEVED
HOW PRECIOUS DID THAT GRACE APPEAR
THE HOUR I FIRST BELIEVED
He rises and begins pacing around the space like a caged tiger, becoming increasingly agitated.
OSCAR
Questions and fear. Slithering, slinking, slipping over me—silverfish tickling my skin. Just a little more faith. Then I won’t be alone out on some wet rock racing through space. What more do you want from us? Sing and dance ‘til you puke and blood trickles down your throat. Make rules, convert the heathens, get your house in order, and then you can move on up to the mansion of God. Read the signs, the measurements, the omens, the formulas—take the drugs and beat your meat. Call the psychics and the phone sex lines and call toll free for your complimentary Book of Mormon. Count photons and mesons and rosary beads. Fast on Lent and fuck on Beltane. Get down on your knees every Sunday and suck off that Body of Christ. When thou goest into battle against thine enemies and seest horses and chariots and people more than thou, be not afraid. For the Lord thy God is with thee. Let not your heart be faint and do not tremble. For the Lord your God is he that goeth with you, to fight against your enemies. To save you. To save you. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters. Unto thee I will cry: O, my Lord, be not silent to me! Be not silent to me!! NOT TO ME!! NOT TO ME!!
Scene Seven
ALDINE CAGE stands next to her desk, talking on the phone. As she speaks, she twists the phone cord nervously. There is a small hand gun on her desk. JEFF MAULIN comes in. He tries to remove a stack of papers from ALDINE’s desk, and in her attempt to avoid him, they get tangled in the phone cord. JEFF works his way free and exits with the papers.
ALDINE
No. No. No, I’m sorry. No. We can not release any of that information at this time. I don’t give a rat’s behind that you took me to the prom, Cabe, the DA’s office can not release any of that information to the press. And I think it’s goshdarn mean of you to ask that of me. No. (from rote): His names is Oscar Telford. The police picked him up about six miles outside of town. He was on foot. He’s been arraigned and charged with murdering Daniel Leyland, an eight-year-old Bethany resident, in the bathroom of a gas station. (listens) Well, criminitly, Cabe! If you already know all that then why the heck did you ask me? (listens) No, I’m sorry, I didn’t have fun at the prom and even if I did, I still couldn’t give you any more information than I’ve given all the other journalists who have called here. Fine. Fine. I’ll thank you not to use that word, but confidentially, I hope you go there, too!
She slams the phone down. We can hear phones ringing in the outer office. ALDINE shouts to offstage.
ALDINE
Jeff! JEFF! Get your rear end in here!
JEFF comes sauntering in.
JEFF
My ass is in. What?
ALDINE
Scolding him
Language!
JEFF
Right. What?
ALDINE
Jeff, if you put through another call from the press, so help me, I’ll…I’ll…well, I’ll do something really not nice to you. I’ll have to think of something later. I’m too busy right now.
JEFF
I’m tempted to take that as a threat. Hey, Aldine—
ALDINE
And you’ll have to take over lead prosecution on the Slidell case. I’ve got to concentrate on this new…mess.
JEFF
Yee-ha! Another drunk-driving redneck case. How do you keep up with the challenging case load in this town? Speaking of the mess: Crawford sent over another request for dismissal.
ALDINE
Ugh! What is he trying to do to me? The boy’s already been indicted. We’ve got a razor blade found at the scene with Daniel’s…blood…on it, not to mention at least half-a-dozen people who can put Telford at the scene.
JEFF
Flipping lazily through the document in his hands
Well…it appears—now this is just a guess, really—that he’s asking for a dismissal on the grounds—and I’m only an Assistant DA, remember—but it seems to me that he is under the impression that his client is not responsible for his actions. But that’s just my personal take on this forty-page document.
ALDINE
Can the smart mouth. Not responsible? He…a little boy! Uh! It’s too awful. I’ve been locking my doors at night for the last week. I’ve never done that before. Not responsible for
cutting someone’s throat?
JEFF
Right. But Crawford seems to think—and I would tend to agree—that Telford is certifiably, um, to use the official legal term: batshit nuts.
ALDINE
I’m certain he is! There is no other explanation for the…what he did. But that’s no excuse! Uh! I just don’t know what to do. Maybe Telford doesn’t belong in jail, but we’ve got a solid case against him. I have to try, don’t I?
JEFF
Well, Crawford is asking for a dismissal because he thinks—and again, I’d have to agree, though I’m just a lowly assistant, of course—that his client is unfit to stand. In New York, we used to call that “unable to aid in his own defense,” but maybe around here ya’ll call it “going to a pig roast and not being able to help turn the spit.”
ALDINE
Jeff, you didn’t have to take this job, and I’m real sorry being an ADA in a small town didn’t turn out to be as dull and simple as you thought it would be. I guess you’ll have to cancel your tee time for tomorrow, too.
The Neophyte_a play in three acts Page 2