Darkness.  The lights of the cityscape in the background.

NARRATOR: In the criminal justice system the people are served with two separate
but equally important types of coffee—Caffeinated and decaffeinated.
These are the stories of the people who drink them.

[In the darkness a match or lighter reveals a street scene.
An alleyway, maybe a storefront.  A thug stands in the cold uneasily.
It’s a cold, windy, foul night.  The thug (Frankie) hears a noise and puts his hand in his pocket.  The noise is another thug (Bernie) who approaches warily.
They do not see each other.]

BERNIE:  Who’s there?

FRANKIE:   Cosa fai?  Answer me.  Show yourself.

BERNIE:  Viva il re!

FRANKIE:  Bernie.

BERNIE:  Me.

FRANKIE:  Right on the dot.

BERNIE:  Midnight.  Get to bed, Frankie.

[Bernie tosses Frankie a meatball sub and some Rolaids.]

FRANKIE:  Thanks for the relief.  It’s bitter cold and I’m sick at heart.

BERNIE:  Quiet guard?

FRANKIE:  Not a mouse stirring.

BERNIE:  Well, good night.  If you see Marco and Horatio tell them to get a move on.

[A noise.  Bernie and Frankie take cover.  Marco and Horatio enter.]

FRANKIE:  I think I hear them.  Who’s there?

HORATIO:  Friends of the friends.

MARCO:   And button-men to the Don.

FRANKIE:  Buona notte.

MARCO:   Grazie.  Who’s on watch now?

FRANKIE:  Bernie’s got it covered.  Buona notte.

[Frankie exits.]

MARCO:   Holla, Bernardo!

BERNIE:  Is Horatio there?

HORATIO:  A piece of him.

BERNIE:  Benvenuto, Horatio.  Benvenuto, Marcello.

HORATIO:  Seen it again tonight?

BERNIE:  I ain’t seen nothing.

MARCO:   Horatio says we ain’t playing with a full deck.  He thinks we’re making it all
up like the old women back in Palermo.  But I seen it twice, with my own eyes, and I swear on St. Michele’s bones that it’s true.

HORATIO:  Strutto, strutto.  There’s nothing to see.

BERNIE:  I tell ya, I saw it.  It’s him.

[Sound of chains rattling.]

MARCO:   Knock it off!  Look, it’s here again.

[Enter the Ghost of Don Prosciuttolino, dressed in classic mob finery.]

BERNIE:  Just like old Don Prosciuttolino, God rest his soul.

MARCO:   Alright, Einstein, why don’t you talk to it?

BERNIE:  It looks like the Don, doesn’t it, Horatio?

HORATIO:  Yeah.  A lot like.  Marrone!

BERNIE:  I think he wants a word with us.

HORATIO:  Who are you?  Why are you here in that get-up?

MARCO:   I think you pissed him off.

BERNIE:  He’s walking off.

MARCO:   That can’t be good.

HORATIO:  Wait!  I’m sorry, Don Prosciuttolino!  Speak to us!

[The Ghost exits.]

MARCO:   He’s gone and his lips are sealed.  Dead men tell no tales.

BERNIE:  How now, brown cow?  You still think it’s an old wives tale?

HORATIO:  I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.

MARCO:   It looks just like him, don’t it?

HORATIO:  Yeah, just like you are to yourself.
That’s the same suit he was wearing when he took down Olaf No-thumbs’ gang.  He had that same expression when he iced those Polacks on the docks.  Strange.

MARCO:   Twice before.  Right at this hour.  He marches by us.

HORATIO:  I just can’t figure why.  But it’s got to mean something.
Something’s going down in the family.

MARCO:   Tell me.  Why do you think they got us on guard all the time?
Why do they got us collecting as many pieces as we can lay our hands on?
Why are they piling up the mattresses in the warehouses?
They even got us working on Sundays.  What’s this all about?

HORATIO:  Just between you and me?

MARCO:   Yeah?

HORATIO:  I heard the capos talking.  Looks like Haakon Strongarm’s got it in his
mind to muscle back into the old business that got Olaf No-thumbs deep-sixed.

BERNIE:  Sounds likely.  But that still don’t explain why we’ve got a ghost running
around us.

HORATIO:  Maybe he’s watching over us.  Like a guardian angel, you know?

MARCO:   That’s a good story.

[The Don reappears.  He is carrying a box of canoli.]

HORATIO:  Look, he’s coming again!  I’ll try to get close to him.  Maybe he’ll talk.
Don Prosciuttolino!  Say something!

[Sounds of a gunshot, a chainsaw, three more gunshots, a rooster crowing,
  a cow mooing, another gunshot, and then a shrill scream.]

HORATIO:  Marco, stop him!

MARCO:   Should I cap him?

HORATIO:  Do it if he don’t stop.

BERNIE:  He’s here!

HORATIO:  He’s here!

MARCO:   He’s gone.  I don’t think it was a good idea to pull a gun on him.
Dead or not.

HORATIO:  You’re dead right on that.  This don’t smell good at all.  Not at all.

[Frankie runs in.]

BERNIE:  Frankie!  What are you doing here?

FRANKIE:  There’s a stiff around the corner.

HORATIO:  Porca miseria!

MARCO:   I’ll call the suits.

Blackout.  The Law & Order Theme Plays.
Tableaux of the characters in blue and red lights.
The Theme ends.  Blackout.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Crime Scene

Several cops are milling about with coffee and doughnuts occasionally glancing over at the chalk outline of the victim.  Coffee and doughnut vendors are milling about serving the cops.

FLATFOOT 1: The cake doughnut is the king of doughnuts.

FLATFOOT 2: Cake doughnuts are too thick.  Too filling.
Maple glaze is the way to go.

FLATFOOT 1: What are you talking about?  Maple glaze?

FLATFOOT 3: Maple Glaze?  You’re crazy.  Bavarian Crème is the best.

FLATFOOT 2: Filled doughnuts are just wrong.
They take away from the craftsmanship of the doughnut.

FLATFOOT 1: If you want to talk about craftsmanship look no further than the
powdered cake doughnut.  Evenly sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar.
It’s a work of art.

FLATFOOT 2: Art is subjective.  Maple glaze is tasty.

[The detectives, Benny Crisco and Ray Purvis, enter.   Benny is the older of the two.  Ray is the better dressed.  Benny picks up a jelly doughnut.]

BENNY:  The jelly doughnut, pride of New York’s finest.

RAY:  I don’t know how you eat those things, Benny.

BENNY:  Aw, come on, Ray, a doughnut from a crime scene vendor is one of the
highlights of being on the NYPD.

RAY:  That stuff’s bad for you, Benny.

BENNY:  It’s better for me than the fifth of scotch I’d finish off every night back in the
old days.

RAY:  I guess the old days weren’t the best.

BENNY:  Not unless you think divorce is a sentimental journey.

FLATFOOT 1: You two Crisco and Purvis?

BENNY:  Yeah.  What do you have for us here?
FLATFOOT 1: I got eight different people who claim to have found the body.
All of them anonymous.

RAY:  Any ID for the guy?

FLATFOOT 1: Yeah, the victim’s wallet was found around the corner.
Victim’s name is Paul deMan.

BENNY:  Paul deMan?

FLATFOOT 1: That’s right.

RAY:  Any money in the wallet?

FLATFOOT 1: No money.  No credit cards.  No pictures of the loving family.

RAY:  What do you think, Benny?  Straightforward robbery?

BENNY:  How did deMan die?

FLATFOOT 1: Whatever it was, it was pretty gruesome.

RAY:  I guess we’ll have to check on the body then.

BENNY:  Thanks for all your help.  Have you tried the Bavarian Crème?

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE CORONER

Wacky M.E.’s office.  There is some sort of buffet table layout.  Emma the Coroner is listening to some reggae classics and munching on various jerk rubbed meat products while occasionally examining the covered body of Paul deMan.  Benny and Ray enter.
In a dark Boo Radley corner there is the silent figure of a man.

BENNY:  What do you have for us tonight, Emma?

EMMA:  This one’s a doozie, boys.  See that over there?

RAY:  Uh-huh.

EMMA:  That’s a gunshot wound in the chest.

BENNY:  So that’s what killed him.

EMMA:  You would think so.  But it’s a very small caliber slug.  Only a flesh wound.
Same with these other three shots.  Not even enough to cause the victim to bleed to death.  Then there are the marks on the neck.

RAY:  He was strangled?

EMMA:  You would think so, but whatever the attacker used to garrote his victim gave
out pretty quickly.  I’d bet it was some kind of yarn.  Red yarn.
Then there are all the food fragments in his mouth.

BENNY:  Looks like someone tried to ram it down his throat.

EMMA:  He was force-fed 23 mini-muffins.  Blueberry.  I’m running a tox screen on
them now, but I’m betting there was something in there other than blueberries.

RAY:  What are these burn marks on his pants?

EMMA:  Someone tried to set his pant-leg on fire.
There’s also a big bite mark on his wrist.  His shoelaces were tied together.
There was some attempt to staple his sleeve to his belt.
On his back are the marks from the front bumper of a ’65 Renault.
And some time after he died he was kicked at regular intervals until about a few
minutes before we got to him.

BENNY:  And none of these things killed him?

EMMA:  You’d think they would have, but they didn’t.

RAY:  So what finally finished him off?
EMMA:  Blunt force trauma to the head.
He was hit with something cold, stiff and furry.

BENNY:  Sounds like he ran into my ex-wife.

EMMA:  My bet is that he was smacked to death with a frozen sea-otter.

BENNY:  How can you know that?

EMMA:  I’ve seen it before.  Back in Vancouver it happened all the time in domestic
disturbance cases.  You’d be surprised how much force an angry woman can put behind a few pounds of dead otter.

RAY:  Well, I guess this is our big break.
All we gotta do is find the otter and make a match.

BENNY:  If it’s not in the East River already.

[Benny and Ray exit.  Emma turns up the music.
The figure in the dark corner makes a move.]

EMMA:  You can come out now, Nicholas.

NICK:  This reminds me of the time when I met Joan of Arc in Orleans.
It was dark; the minstrels were playing in the background.

EMMA:  Shhh!  Just kiss me, Nicholas.
Kiss me like you want to take my spirit into you.

NICK:  Okay, but I’ll have to tell you I’m not going to second base with you.

EMMA:  Too chicken?

NICK:  No, I just don’t like drawing blood on the first date.

EMMA:  Oh, Nicholas, you have the best stories.

NICK:  It’s an old world, and I’ve seen a lot of it.

EMMA:  No more talk.

[He moves in to kiss her, vampire style.  Blackout.
Music changes to Sarah McLachlan’s “Building a Mystery.”]
 
 

THE LIEUTENANT

The precinct.  Lieutenant Merkava grills her detectives.

LIEUT:  Anything new on your victim?

RAY:  Victim’s name is Paul deMan.

LIEUT:  What did deMan do for a living?

BENNY:  He was a university professor.  Currently unemployed.

LIEUT:  Make that permanently unemployed.  What about his acquaintances?

RAY:  He was Belgian, so we figured he might have hung out in Little Antwerp.
We’re running down a list of his cronies now.  But from all indications deMan was something of a loner.

LIEUT:  So deMan was a hermit?

BENNY:  I would say that deMan was more of a recluse.

LIEUT:  What about your potential witnesses?

BENNY:  Several members of New York’s fine streetwalking community.

LIEUT:  That should be fruitful.

RAY:  And get this.
Those “anonymous” witnesses who called in about finding the body?
Turns out they’re some of Don Claudio’s hoods from the Prosciuttolino family.

LIEUT:  You think they may have had a hand in this?

RAY:  They might have.  But then, why would they call attention to themselves like this?

BENNY:  Maybe they didn’t do it.

LIEUT:  Bring them in.  I think we should have a talk with them.

RAY:  I think they’re hiding out in Staten Island.

LIEUT:  Well, we have at least one friend out there who owes us a favor.
I’ll make the call.  You two go check up on the other witnesses.

[Purvis and Crisco start to walk away.]
RAY:  She doesn’t mean—

BENNY:  That’s exactly who she means.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

PIMP BOYS AND DINETTES

The street.  Several prostitutes are being inspected by their ridiculously dressed pimp, Sweet Willy.  The whole group of them should have some sort of theme going on, perhaps the hookers are dressed as characters from Hedda Gabler.  Perhaps Sweet Willy is dressed as a Civil War General.  At any rate, the effect should be ridiculous.  Sweet Willy is a bit of an intellectual among pimps.  Not a real tough businessman so much as a dilettante with too much time on his hands.

SWEET WILLY: Ladies, ladies, ladies.

THE LADIES: Hi, Sweet Willy.

SWEET WILLY: Candy.  Sweet Candy.  Candy Kane.
Are you a big fan of Citizen Kane?

CANDY:  Is he a big tipper?

SWEET WILLY: Naw, rosebud.  He’s just a character.

HONEY:  You’re the character, Sweet Willy.

SWEET WILLY: Honey.  Honey bear.  Darling honey of the sweet clovers.

HONEY:  That’s me.

SWEET WILLY: Sweeter than honey and bitter as gold.  What is a youth?

HONEY:  A youth?

SWEET WILLY: Yes, what is a youth?

SUGAR:  Impetuous fire?

SWEET WILLY: That’s right, Sugar.  You got it.  Now, what is a maid?

SUGAR:  Ice and desire.

SWEET WILLY: The world wags on.  The world wags on, baby.

SUGAR:  Aren’t you gonna ask us about business, Sweet Willy?

SWEET WILLY: Aw, business.  Always business.  Tell me, Gummi what is business?

GUMMI:  It’s pronounced Goo-Me.

SWEET WILLY: You may want to get that changed.  Now, tell me what is business?

GUMMI:  Why should I change my name?  I like Gummi.  It’s a perfectly good name.
Guys like girls named Gummi.

SWEET WILLY: You’re missing the point.

SUGAR:  What is the point?

SWEET WILLY: That’s a good question.

[Crisco and Purvis enter.]

BENNY:  Speaking of questions, are you…Sweet Willy?

SWEET WILLY: Who wants to know?

RAY:  We do.

SWEET WILLY: Who is we?

BENNY:  We is us.

SWEET WILLY: Who is us?

BENNY:  Me and him.

SWEET WILLY: And who…are…you?

[They flash their badges.]

SWEET WILLY: N-Y-P-D, find out what it means to me.
Why don’t you check out my product line?
I’m sure you could find something you like?

BENNY:  Are you attempting to bribe an officer?

SWEET WILLY: Why no, I was just offering you a sample of some of my corporation’s
all natural sweeteners.

RAY:  We were just here to ask you a few questions about the body that was found here
last night.

SWEET WILLY: Oh, yeah.  Very bad for business.  Are you a fan of Citizen Kane?

BENNY:  Ray here loves Gladiator movies.
RAY:  When did you find the body?

SWEET WILLY: Last night.

BENNY:  Do you have a more precise time than that?

SWEET WILLY: I think I heard a bird singing.  It was the nightingale.

SUGAR:  It was the lark.

SWEET WILLY: No, the night was deep and dark and the nightingale was singing.

SUGAR:  It was nearly daybreak and it was the lark.

SWEET WILLY: It was dark.

THE LADIES: IT WAS THE LARK!

SWEET WILLY: Just before dawn.

BENNY:  Thank you.

RAY:  Did you happen to kick the body at any point?

SWEET WILLY: Once or twice.  Didn’t want to scuff my fine leather boots.

BENNY:  Why did you kick him?

SWEET WILLY: There are just some people.  You know by the look of them.
They deserve a kick or two.

RAY:  We’ll be in touch.

SWEET WILLY: Thanks, Five-Oh.

BENNY:  You mind if we have a chat with your…um…

SWEET WILLY: My ladies?  If you’ve got the dime, you’ve got the time.

BENNY:  I’ll give you a coupon for some jelly doughnuts.

SWEET WILLY: I prefer Maple Glazed.

GUMMI:  Who’s Maple?

HONEY:  Why is she glazed?
BENNY:  What’s your name, sweetheart?

CANDY:  Candy.

BENNY:  Let me guess, Candy Cane?

CANDY:  Kane with a ‘K’.

BENNY:  And Kandy with a ‘K’, that’s really Kute.

CANDY:  No.  Candy with a ‘C’ and Kane with a ‘K’.  Like Carol Kane.

BENNY:  Any relation?

CANDY:  No.

RAY:  When did you find the body?

CANDY:  Sometime between the nightingale and the lark.

BENNY:  Do you have any more precise time for us?

CANDY:  About half past the nightingale.

RAY:  Did you see anything strange?

CANDY:  Just the dead guy.

BENNY:  Did you kick him?

CANDY:  Yeah.  Some guys.  You just know.

BENNY:  How about you?  What’s your name?

HONEY:  I’m Honey.  Honey B. Johnson.

RAY:  Well, Honey Bee, what did you see?

BENNY:  And when did you see it?

HONEY:  I saw the body about ten minutes before the lark.

RAY:  Did you kick it too?

HONEY:  Sure.

BENNY:  Why?

HONEY:  I thought I recognized him.

RAY:  Did you?

HONEY:  No.  But I could tell he needed to be kicked anyway.

RAY:  How about you?

GUMMI:  My name is Gummi.  G-U-M-M-I.

BENNY:  Thanks.

GUMMI:  Some people like to say Gummy so that it rhymes with yummy.
But I say Gummi.  Because it rhymes with…What does it rhyme with?

SUGAR:  How about dummy?

GUMMI:  No, that’s not it.

RAY:  What do you know, Sugar?

SUGAR:  What do you think I know?

RAY:  I think you know a lot.

SUGAR:  Oh, I know a lot.  A whole lot.  That doesn’t mean I’m telling any of it.

RAY:  I think you’ll tell it.  I think you’ll tell all of it.

SUGAR:  You do, huh?  What makes you think I would tell?
What makes you think I would spill the beans?
What makes you think I would let you know what I’m thinking?

RAY:  You talk a lot for someone who’s not saying anything.

SUGAR:  Maybe I’m saying something, but you don’t know what I’m saying.
Maybe I’m not saying anything but you don’t know that I’m not saying what
I don’t know I’m telling you.

RAY:  When did you find the body?

SUGAR:  Half past two.

RAY:  What about the lark?
SUGAR:  It was still dark.

RAY:  Did you know the victim?

SUGAR:  I’d seen him around the neighborhood.  A loner.  Kept to himself.
Spoke with some sort of European accent.  Hung around with this little guy a lot.  Called him Jacques.

RAY:  Jacques?

SUGAR:  Yeah, Jacques.

RAY:  Did you think it was unusual for him to be dead?

SUGAR: I don’t think there’s anything left to be called unusual in this town.

RAY:  Did you kick the guy?

SUGAR:  Yeah.  Two or three times.  I don’t know why.
He just looked like the kind of guy who needed to get some kicks.

RAY:  But he was dead.

SUGAR:  It’s never too late for some people.

RAY:  Thanks.

BENNY:  Thanks for all your help.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing you all later.

SWEET WILLY: Are you sure you don’t like Citizen Kane?

RAY:  Naw.  I’m pretty loyal to The Magnificent Ambersons.

SWEET WILLY: Good choice, detective.

[Sweet Willy and the Ladies exit.]

RAY:  You ever get the distinct feeling you’re on a wild goose chase, Benny?

BENNY:  All the time, Ray.  All the time.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 

WISE GUYS

The precinct again.  Detective Fitzhugh Soth marches in with the Thugs from the first scene.  He is handling one of them roughly.

FITZ:  Alright you wise guys, let’s hear what you have to say.

BERNIE:  I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ until I see my lawyer.

FITZ:  Come on, Bernie.  We know each other.
You scratch my back, and I don’t beat the crap out of you.

BERNIE:  I want my lawyer.

FITZ:  I want my lawyer, I want my lawyer.
I thought you were supposed to be tough guys.  Are you a tough guy?
You wanna be a tough guy?

FRANKIE:  Lay off him, Fitz.

FITZ:  What.  I gotta take lip from you now, Frankie?  What do you want to say to me?
Are you a tough guy?  Let’s see how tough you are, Frankie.

HORATIO:  We didn’t do anything.

FITZ:  Don’t feed me your lines.  You guys are always up to something.  Wise guys.
Tough guys.  You think you’re wise and tough.

[Enter the Lawyers.]

LAWYER 1: Do you have any charges for my client, Detective Soth?

FITZ:  Yeah, I’ve got charges.  This one right here.

[Soth decks the Lawyer who is knocked flat on the ground.]

FITZ:  Alright, who’s talking first?

MARCO:  Well, we were talking about—

LAWYER 2: Excuse me, detective, but I’m from the Law offices of Amis, Amis,
Mecklenburg and Schafter.  I’ll be representing Mr. DiNapoli.

FITZ:  Go ahead and represent.  I’m just going to ask him a few questions.

LAWYER 2: You’re violating his civil rights.
FITZ:  He’s making a deal of his own accord.  Aren’t you?

MARCO:  Yes.

FITZ:  So, did you see anything peculiar that night, Marcello?

MARCO:  Si.  I saw a ghost.

FITZ:  You mean a corpse.

MARCO:  Si, si.  I saw a corpse and I saw a ghost.

FITZ:  You saw a ghost and a corpse?

MARCO:  Si.

FITZ:  Was it the ghost of the corpse?

MARCO:  No.

FITZ: Were they related?

MARCO: No.

FITZ:  Did you see anything else that night?

MARCO:  No.

FITZ:  Did you kick the body?

MARCO:  Si.

FITZ:  Can I ask you why?

MARCO:  Some people…you just know.

FITZ:  Thanks, Marco.  You’re all done here.

LAWYER 2: You’ll be hearing from us later.

FITZ:  What are you going to do?  Take away my doughnuts?

LAWYER 2: Okay, you won’t be hearing from us.

[Lawyer 2 and Marco exit.]

FITZ:  How about you, Bernie?

LAWYER 3: Excuse me, I’m from the firm of Egri, Egri, Egerszegy and Horvath.  I’m here to represent Mister Barnardo Alighieri Montenegri.

FITZ:  What do you want?

LAWYER 3: Are you charging my client?

FITZ:  No.  I just have two questions for him.

LAWYER 3: What does he get in return?

FITZ:  Coffee and one doughnut.

[Lawyer 3 and Bernie confer.]

LAWYER 3: No good.  He wants two doughnuts and an extra large coffee.

FITZ:  Regular or Decaf.

BERNIE:  Decaf. I don’t want to be up all night.

FITZ:  I can do that.

[Lawyer 3 and Bernie confer.]

LAWYER 3: And he wants a guarantee that the doughnuts will be fresh.

FITZ:  You’re kidding, right?

[Bernie shrugs.]

FITZ:  What did you see, Bernie?

BERNIE:  A ghost.  Then I saw a dead guy.

FITZ:  Not the same guy?

BERNIE:  No.

FITZ:  Did you kick the dead guy?

BERNIE:  Yeah.  Some guys…

FITZ:  Did you kick the ghost?
BERNIE:  Now, how am I gonna do that, I ask you.  How?

FITZ:  Alright.  Go pick up your coffee and doughnuts.

BERNIE:  Do you have sprinkles?

FITZ:  You’re pushing your luck, Bernie.

BERNIE:  A guy’s gotta try.

FITZ:  Alright Frankie, it’s your turn.

LAWYER 4: Scusi.  I am representing Mister Francisco Franco de la Guardia.

FITZ:  You want coffee and doughnuts, too, Frankie?

LAWYER 4: You don’t have to answer that.

FRANKIE:  I just want what’s fair.

FITZ:  Well, I can do that.  What did you see?  A ghost and a stiff?

FRANKIE:  I didn’t see no ghost.  Just the stiff.

FITZ:  And let me guess, you kicked the guy.

FRANKIE:  That’s right.  I must have been the first one to kick the guy.
He was pretty fresh on the ground.  I heard a couple of cracks like some sort of squirrel was cracking a walnut.  I heard a scream, then the sound of some sort of chainsaw.  Then I saw the dead guy.

FITZ:  Anyone you might have known.

FRANKIE:  He didn’t look connected.  Looked like some sort of a dope, if you ask me.

FITZ:  Well, you’ve earned yourself an extra doughnut.

FRANKIE:  Thanks, Fitz.  And hey, watch your back.  The mattresses are out.

FITZ:  So I heard.

[Frankie and Lawyer 4 exit.]

FITZ:  What about you Horatio?
 

LAWYER 5: I’m here from the firm of Stuart, Hall, Marshall and McLuhan to represent
Mr. Quintus Horatius Flaccus.

FITZ:  You know the drill.

[Lawyer 5 and Horatio confer.  It turns into a heated argument in Italian.]

LAWYER 5: My client is willing to talk.

FITZ:  Coffee and doughnuts are around back.

[Horatio nods.]

LAWYER 5: You mind if I get some too?  I’m starving.

FITZ:  What do you have for me, Horatio?

HORATIO:  Let me speak to the unknowing world how these things came about.
So shall you hear of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
and in this upshot, purposes mistook fallen on the inventors’ heads:
All this can I truly deliver.

FITZ:  Did you know the guy?

HORATIO:  No.

FITZ:  Did you kill the guy?

HORATIO:  No.

FITZ:  Did you kick him?

HORATIO:  Yes.

FITZ:  Why?

HORATIO:  There are more people in heaven and earth who deserve a good kick
than you have dreamt of in your philosophy.

FITZ:  Thanks.  You’re free to go.

[Horatio and Lawyer 5 head for the coffee and doughnuts.  The ADA, Dallas Hopkins enters with the chief prosecutor Jack McCoy.]

DALLAS:  Of course you know that none of that was admissible.
FITZ:  I found out what we needed to know.  It wasn’t a mob hit.
These guys were clean.  This time.

DALLAS:  We’re trying to uphold the law here.

FITZ:  I did what I had to do.

DALLAS:  Well, maybe you should start thinking about what you have to do in terms
of the law.

FITZ:  Maybe you should get off your high-lonesome horse and realize you’re not in
Texas anymore.  This is New York.  You have to be tough.

[Dallas pushes Fitz up against a wall and holds him up against it.]

DALLAS:  You mean like this, tough guy?  I’ll have you know that before I came here
I handed out more poisoned needles than a psychopath on Halloween.
You got that, Yankee?

FITZ:  Yeah.  So, Jack…how’s Manhattan?

McCOY:  It’s a fine island, detective.  It’s a fine island.

FITZ:  You ever get the feeling you’re getting a runaround?

McCOY:  All the time, detective.  All the time.

[The Lieutenant enters with Benny and Ray.  Benny has a laundry bag with him.  It is labeled “Pierre’s Laundry.”]

FITZ:  Look what the cat dragged in.

BENNY:  Fitz!  I didn’t know they let you off your island.  What brings you here?

DALLAS:  Detective Soth has been busy dispensing his rough Staten Island style justice.

FITZ:  Lawyers!  They can never take a joke.

McCOY:  Do you have a suspect for us, detectives?

RAY:  All of deMan’s acquaintances checked out except for one.  Jacques Derrida.
Looks like he skipped town, and from the looks of his place he was in an awful hurry.

FITZ:  Who’s Pierre?

RAY:  I don’t know, but it doesn’t smell like he’s done his laundry in twenty years.

LIEUTENANT:  Any leads on where to find this guy?

BENNY:  We have reason to believe he might have gone to Boston.

LIEUTENANT:  Why?

BENNY:  Well, we don’t have any reason to believe that.
I was just hoping to catch a game at Fenway.

FITZ:  You been hitting the sauce again, Benny?

LIEUTENANT:  Nice try detectives.  I’ll put the word out on this Derrida guy.
I suggest you either send that bag to forensics or to the cleaners.

DALLAS:  I’ll go file some charges on Derrida.  Do we have any friendly judges left?

[McCoy just looks at her.]

DALLAS:  Sorry I asked.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE DOUGHNUT COMMERCIAL

NARRATOR:  People v. Garofalo is brought to you by the Donut Council.

[The Donut Guy walks in and sees a box of powdered donuts.]

NARRATOR:  Sometimes you have a rough day.
 Sometimes you lose your job.
 Sometimes your spouse slams the door in your face
and you think you have no place to go.
 And then you wake up on the street, your breath smelling like Southern Comfort
 And you realize you really don’t have any place to go.
 You’re dead to the world.
 People walk by and kick you.
 Little kids call you names.
 You smell bad.
 A mosquito bites just below the eye.
 You smell really bad.
 Life is kicking you in the ass.
 You read leaflets and scraps of the newspaper that you find stuck to your shoe
 And you start to analyze these bits of “text” from various theoretical perspectives
 You become enthralled with Deconstruction.
 A mugger kicks you in the groin and takes your shoes.
 Yeah, you’ve been having a rough day.
 Then, in the middle of your now delusional sense of reality
 You see a single powdered donut levitating in the air.

[One of the donuts is raised as if by magic (though probably with some clearly visible fishing line) in the air.]

 Then that single powdered donut becomes several.

[Several more powdered donuts are “levitated.”]

 You think you see several powdered donuts floating in the air.
 You think you’re crazy.
 You don’t believe.
 You have to touch it.   You must taste it.
 You do.  It’s real.  And it’s fantastic.  You’re life will never be the same.
 BEHOLD!  THE POWER OF THE DONUT!

[The Donut Guy tastes one of the donuts and smiles.]

 Got Donuts?

[Blackout.]
THE INSPECTOR

The Precinct.  The detectives are having doughnuts and coffee and lounging about.
The phone rings.  Someone in the background answers by saying “homicide.”
The Lieutenant enters.

LIEUTENANT:  I’m glad to see you’re busy looking for our suspect.

BENNY:  Well, uh…

RAY:  Gee, we…

LIEUTENANT:  Don’t bother giving me your lame excuses.  Our friends in the
Baltimore P.D.  picked up Mr. Derrida last night.  He was seen trying to dump a frozen sea otter into Chesapeake Bay.  Payless and Wimbledon are sending him up now.

BENNY:  Well, I say we raise a round for Baltimore’s finest.

LIEUTENANT:  Benny, have you been hitting the sauce again?

BENNY:  Not at all.

LIEUTENANT:  One other thing.  It turns out our victim was wanted by the Belgian
government.

RAY:  deMan was wanted by the Belgians?

BENNY:  What did he do, pass a few bad waffles?

LIEUTENANT:  No, deMan was a collaborator during the war.

RAY:  deMan was a war criminal?

LIEUTENANT:  Apparently so.

RAY:  So the Belgians wanted deMan?

LIEUTENANT:  That’s right.

BENNY:  What does that mean for us?

LIEUTENANT:  I have no idea.
But for some reason they’re sending over their top detective.

BENNY:  Belgians. Go figure.
RAY:  Do you know any Belgians?

BENNY:  No.  You?

RAY:  There was this Belgian kid where I went to school.  Always got picked on.

BENNY:  I’ll bet he was a real pushover.

RAY:  Nice kid, though.  I dated his big sister for a while.

BENNY:  Fascinating.

[Enter a stereotypical detective-type with a trench coat and funny hat.
He also has a bad Poirot moustache and an atrocious accent.]

CLOUSEAU:  I am Shief Inspecteur Hercule Clouseau of the Security Service of the
Kingdom of Belgium.

BENNY:  Hercule Clouseau?

[They are all about to laugh, but Clouseau pulls a gun.]

CLOUSEAU:  Do not bother with the jeaukes.  They are not feunny.
I have heard all of the jeaukes before and they are not any feunnier in Flemish.  So please cease your jeauking at once.  I am a serious detective and my mission is of the utmost importance.

LIEUTENANT:  Okay.  No more jokes.

BENNY:  You have to admit it’s pretty funny.

CLOUSEAU:  I do not have to admit anything.  It is not feunny.
It is, how do you say…not feunny.  Children can be cruel.
Especially Belgian children.

LIEUTENANT:  Just put down the gun, Hercule.

CLOUSEAU:  That is Shief Inspector—

LIEUTENANT:  Okay.  Just put down the gun, Sheaf Inspector.

CLOUSEAU:  Neu, neu, neu.  It is Shief Inspector.  Shief, Shief, Shief.

BENNY:  You don’t have to be so touchy.

CLOUSEAU:  I am here to take back the man who killed deMan.
LIEUTENANT:  Who?

CLOUSEAU:  deMan.

BENNY:  deMan is dead.

CLOUSEAU:  I kneau that.  I am here to take away the man who killed deMan.

LIEUTENANT:  Ohhhh. Why do you want to extradite the man who killed deMan?
Isn’t deMan wanted by your government?

CLOUSEAU:  No, the man isn’t wanted by our government.
deMan is wanted by our government.

LIEUTENANT: deMan is wanted by your government.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  Then why do you want the man?

CLOUSEAU:  Because he is wanted.

BENNY:  Who?

CLOUSEAU:  deMan.

RAY:  But deMan is dead.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  But isn’t deMan the one you want?

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  Then why do you want the man?

CLOUSEAU:  Because he is wanted.

BENNY:  Who?

RAY:  deMan.

LIEUTENANT:  But deMan is dead.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  Then why do you want him.

CLOUSEAU:  I do not want deMan.  I want the man.

LIEUTENANT:  Which man?

CLOUSEAU:  The man who killed deMan.

LIEUTENANT:  But I thought deMan was the man you wanted.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes, but we also want the man.

BENNY:  deMan.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  Which one?

CLOUSEAU:  We want the man who killed deMan.

BENNY:  Okay.  I feel like we’re going in circles.

CLOUSEAU:  You are giving me the reunaround.

LIEUTENANT:  Does your government want deMan?

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.  We want deMan.

LIEUTENANT:  And deMan is dead.

CLOUSEAU:  Yes.

LIEUTENANT:  Then why do you want the man who killed the man who was wanted
by your government?

CLOUSEAU:  We wish to give him a commendation.

RAY:  You mean a condemnation.

CLOUSEAU:  Do not tell me what I mean.  I kneau what I mean.
We wish to extradite Monsieur Derrida put him into a…how do you say…
a weumbat court and give him a commendation.

RAY:  What’s a weumbat court?
 

CLOUSEAU:  A weumbat.  You know, it is from Australia.
It has a leung tail and jeumps around and has a poche.

LIEUTENANT:  You mean a kangaroo?

CLOUSEAU:  Neu.  I am sure it is a weumbat.

BENNY:  I think you mean a kangaroo court.

CLOUSEAU:  No, I am sure it is a weumbat.

LIEUTENANT:  Whatever.  I don’t understand why your government wants the man
who killed the man you want.  It doesn’t make any sense.

CLOUSEAU:  It is Belgium.  It deausn’t have to make the sense.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ADAMA

A surreal office.  Dallas and McCoy stand in some sort of bizarre light waiting for an audience with the District Attorney of Manhattan, Adama Schift.  Adama is an old tired man with grey/white hair and a black robe with some sort of silver necklace.
He turns around.

ADAMA:  I can see the headlines already.  Big trouble in Little Brussels.
The press will have a field day with it.  Let the Belgians have him.

McCOY:  I can’t do that.

ADAMA:  This case is more trouble than it’s worth.  Let the Belgians have him.

McCOY:  The crime was committed in our jurisdiction.
It’s our responsibility to see that justice is done.
What kind of message is it going to send if we can’t do that?

ADAMA:  To get justice, you need a conviction.
To get that you need more than circumstantial evidence, which is all you’ve got.
I suggest you hand him over to the Belgians and wash your hands of it.

McCOY:  The Belgians want to pin a medal on a murderer.

DALLAS:  I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with Jack on this one.
I think if we can get Derrida in front of a jury we can nail him.

ADAMA:  Has anyone come forward to claim deMan’s body?

DALLAS:  No.

ADAMA:  You have a victim nobody likes.  You have circumstantial evidence.
What you don’t have is a case.  Let the Belgians take it.

McCOY:  I can’t do that.  We have to send a message that it’s not okay to kill an
accused Belgian collaborator in New York.

ADAMA:  Fine.  It’s your funeral.  Get a trial date.  Do you have any friendly judges?

[McCoy scowls.]

ADAMA:  I’m sorry I asked.

[Blackout.]
 

(DIS) INTERROGATION

The interrogation chamber.  Detectives Crisco and Purvis, are grilling Derrida.
Derrida’s lawyer, Lisa Hatfield is taking copious notes.
The Lieutenant, Dallas and McCoy are just outside the chamber.

BENNY:  Where were you the night Paul deMan was killed?

DERRIDA:  Where?  Where.  Where air?  Air is where.

BENNY:  Did you kill deMan?

HATFIELD:  My client doesn’t have to answer that.

DERRIDA:  Kill is such an interesting word.  K-I-L-L.  K.  Ill.  Ill.  Kill.
So easy to go from ill to kill and back again.

BENNY:  Did you buy a ball of yarn from Montgomery’s Yarn Hut the night before
deMan was killed?

DERRIDA:  Yarn.  Yarn.  Yearn.  Yawn.

RAY:  Miss Hatfield—

HATFIELD:  That’s Ms. Hatfield.

RAY:  Right.  You’re client needs to be more cooperative.

HATFIELD:  My client doesn’t need to be anything.  He is what he is.
That is all he can be.

BENNY:  Okay, Jacques, you want to play tough.  We can play tough.

DERRIDA:  Tough.  Stuff.  Why is one spelled with a G H and the other with two F’s?
You would think that one F would be enough.

BENNY:  We found this book in your apartment.

[Benny holds up a copy of The Stranger.]

DERRIDA:  Apartment.  Apart.  A part.

BENNY:  Did you think you were going to be a tough guy, Jacques?
Did you think you were tough?

HATFIELD:  This is all vaguely inappropriate.
RAY:  Is it specifically illegal?

HATFIELD: Well, no…

BENNY:  Are you going to spill the beans or not you little twerp?

DERRIDA:  Spill the beans.  Fascinating phrase.  Spill.  S.  Pill.  Beans.  Beens.
Has beens.

HATFIELD:  Any more questions?

RAY:  Yeah.  I got one.  Where do you get the nerve?  Huh?  Where do you come off?

HATFIELD:  I fail to see where you’re going with this.

RAY:  I just want to know who this guy thinks he is.  What does he think he’s doing?
Why is he jerking us around like some guy who jerks people around?

DERRIDA:  I am who I am.  I am not who I am not.

BENNY:  I hope you’re still that comfortable with who you are when you’re in jail.

HATFIELD:  That’s it.  This interrogation is over.  If you have any questions for my
client you can save them for the courtroom.  If this even gets that far.

[She gets up and leaves the chamber.]

HATFIELD:  Hello, Jack.  It’s a pleasure to see you.  Is this your new cookie?  Not bad.
I’ll see you in the judges chambers tomorrow.

[She exits.]

DALLAS:  What was that about?

McCOY: Nothing.

[McCoy exits.  Dallas looks at Benny.]

BENNY:  Ms. Hatfield and Jack had a thing a while back.  It turned pretty ugly.
They fought all the time.  They were like the…well, you know.

DALLAS:  This is going to be some case.

[Dallas exits.]
 

LIEUTENANT:  So, you want to tell me which of you was supposed to be the
good cop?

BENNY:  The punks these days make me sick.  In my day the punks were punks.
You could beat the crap out of them, play a couple of mind games with them in the box and they’d spill the beans like crazy.  Now…they just make me sick with all their mumbo-jumbo and linguistic banter…

RAY:  Hey, Benny.  Have you been hitting the sauce again?

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE JUDGE

Judge Oldcastle’s chambers.  Early morning.  Coffee and danish is being served.

HATFIELD:  Your honor, the prosecution has no evidence.  Their witnesses are either mobsters or prostitutes.

JUDGE:  So you want me to dismiss the charges.

HATFIELD:  That would be favorable.  Given the desire of the Belgian government
to recognize his merits and Mr. Derrida’s upstanding reputation in the community we ask that he be set free.

DALLAS:  Your honor, the accused was found attempting to dispose of the murder
weapon.  We have more than enough evidence to go to trial.

HATFIELD:  The Belgian government has asked for extradition

McCOY:  Your honor, the Belgians don’t want to put him on trial.

HATFIELD:  Pirandello v. State of New York.
They don’t have to put him on trial to request extradition.

McCOY:  Only in war crimes cases.  People v. Garofalo

HATFIELD:  This is a war crimes case.  People v. Raeder.

McCOY:  The case against deMan was a war crimes case.
The case against Derrida is a criminal case.  Ludendorff v. Mackenzie.

HATFIELD:  People v. Pershing overturned Ludendorff.

DALLAS:  Except in cases of extremely violent murder.  People v. Garofalo.

JUDGE:  I take it you’re arguing that this was an extremely violent murder.

DALLAS:  The facts of the case bear that out.

HATFIELD:  Your honor, I recommend we drop the charges to manslaughter.

McCOY:  The defendant brutally murdered a man in the middle of the street for
apparently no reason.

HATFIELD:  Mitigating circumstances.  Shepard v. Brown.

McCOY:  Which was superceded by People v. Garofalo.
HATFIELD:  Them’s fighting words.

McCOY:  Then I suggest you invest in some gloves.

HATFIELD:  I think the gloves are coming off.

McCOY:  So be it.

[They spar for some amount of time.]

JUDGE:  Are you two quite through?  Good.  Now, I love the Belgians.
I love their chocolate.  I love their waffles.  But I draw the line at humoring their desire to do wacky things like reward a man for murder.  So I am refusing their request for extradition.  As for dropping the charges I don’t think that would be appropriate but I will entertain reduction of charges so I suggest you bring something more substantial than a frozen otter, Mr. McCoy.  That is all.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ADAMA II

Adama’s office.

ADAMA:  Lisa Hatfield.  She’s like a shark.

McCOY:  She is a shark.

ADAMA:  Whatever.  Just don’t make it too personal.
Those two…they’re just like the…well, you know.

DALLAS:  I think we have a good chance.  The evidence is overwhelming.

ADAMA:  If Lisa Hatfield even lets you get to the evidence.
She has her own methods of stonewalling.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned that courtroom into a three-ring circus.

McCOY:  That may be just what we need.

DALLAS:  What?

McCOY:  You heard Derrida in that interview.  The man makes no sense.

DALLAS: I don’t see how that can be to our advantage.

McCOY:  It’s not.  But we can do the same thing.

ADAMA:  Just get the conviction.  I don’t care how you do it.  Just do it.  I need a drink.

DALLAS:  So do we bring in the laundry bag?

McCOY:  We bring in everything.  We overload them.

DALLAS:  What if Hatfield moves to suppress?  She gets a mistrial.  Derrida flies the coop and ends up being a decorated hero in Belgium.

McCOY:  That’s the risk we’ll have to run.  This guy’s a psychopath.  A sociopath.
 A deconstuctionist.
What if that hadn’t been a Belgian collaborator?
What if it had been the first person he saw that night?  What if it had been a child?  This man shows no remorse, Dallas.  He justifies everything.
He thinks he’s just subverting the dominant paradigm.
Is that how far down we’ve come?  Is that all that humanity means now?

ADAMA:  Arrest them all.

DALLAS:  All of them?

ADAMA: Arrest everyone.  If you have to bring in every last Belgian war veteran do it.
If you’re gonna gamble make it big.  Take them all down.

McCOY:  I want Claire Courvoisier for second chair.

DALLAS:  Jack!  The woman’s in a coma!

ADAMA:  Cross examination by a woman in a coma.  Nice touch.
That should fix any wavering jurors.

DALLAS:  This is just ridiculous.

McCOY:  Do you want to get this guy or not?

DALLAS:  Within the law.

McCOY:  This is within the law.

DALLAS:  I guess you’re right.

ADAMA:  I need a drink.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE TRIAL

All the stage is a courtroom.  The whole gang is there.

BAILIFF:  All rise for the honorable Judge Oldcastle.

JUDGE:  Be seated.  People versus Jacques Derrida.  How does the defendant plead?

DERRIDA:  I am neither not guilty nor guilty but an infinite interplay of all the
meanings inscribed there.

JUDGE:  Excuse me?

HATFIELD:  Defendant pleads not guilty.

JUDGE:  Let the games begin.  Mr. McCoy, you may call your first witness.

McCOY:  People call Sweet Willy the Pimp to the stand.

[Sweet Willy enters.]

BAILIFF:  Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and all that jazz.

SWEET WILLY: I swear.

McCOY:  Please state your full name for the record.

SWEET WILLY: Sweet Willy Mackenzie.

HATFIELD:  Objection, your honor.

JUDGE:  Sustained.  Please state your legal name for the record.

SWEET WILLY: Sweet William Mackenzie, Pimpatus of Love.

JUDGE:  Why would you change your name to that?

SWEET WILLY: I didn’t.

JUDGE:  What kind of parents did you have?

SWEET WILLY: They were big fans of Orson Welles.

HATFIELD:  Objection, your honor.  Relevance?

McCOY:  What did you see in the street?
SWEET WILLY: A messed up dead Belgian dude.

McCOY:  Thank you, Sweet Willy.

HATFIELD:  When did you see this “messed up Belgian dude?”

SWEET WILLY: Just before Dawn, the rosy fingered Aurora…

HATFIELD:  In your statement to the police you were more confused about the time.
You said something about a chicken and a rooster?

SWEET WILLY: It was the nightingale and the lark.

HATFIELD:  And why have you changes your metaphors now?

SWEET WILLY: Variety is the spice of life.

HATFIELD:  Variety is the spice of life.  Thank you.  That is all.

JUDGE:  You may step down.

SWEET WILLY: You ever get the feeling you’re going on a wild goose chase?

JUDGE:  All the time, Sweet Willy, all the time.

McCOY:  People call Emma Lazarus, M.E.

[Enter Emma with two mimes.]

BAILIFF:  Do you swear?

EMMA:  All the time.

McCOY:  Now, Ms. Lazarus, with the aid of these professional forensic mimes will
describe the chain of events leading to the death of Mr. deMan.

[As she describes the events the mimes re-enact them.]

McCOY:  What happened to deMan?

EMMA:  deMan was shot six times.

McCOY:  And this killed him?

EMMA:  It might have if he had been shot with anything approaching a real gun.

McCOY:  What kind of gun was deMan shot with?

EMMA:  deMan was shot with a pistol of very small caliber.  Smaller than a derringer.
 Most likely some sort of single shot novelty pistol.
Probably made in Switzerland.

McCOY:  A single shot pistol?

EMMA: That’s right.

McCOY:  So the assailant would have had to reload after each shot.

EMMA: Right.

McCOY:  In your opinion, would that show malicious intent on the part of the assailant?

HATFIELD:  Objection, your honor.  It could have been an accident.

McCOY:  Six times?!

JUDGE:  Overruled.

HATFIELD: Miranda v. Longet.
It could have been a series of coincidental occurrences.

McCOY:  People v. Garofalo.
The likelihood of six similar accidents in a row is improbable.

HATFIELD:  Rosencrantz v. Guildenstern, your honor.  Improbable, but not impossible.

JUDGE:  Let me see that cite.  Hmm.
Okay, the jury will disregard the six gunshot wounds.  Proceed, counselor.

McCOY:  What happened after deMan was shot?

EMMA:  Someone tried to strangle him with a piece of red yarn.

McCOY:  Was this successful?

EMMA:  No, the piece of yarn was too short and it broke.

McCOY:  Then what happened?

EMMA:  deMan was force-fed twenty-three mini-muffins.

McCOY:  What flavor were they?
EMMA:  Blueberry…and strychnine.

McCOY:  And did this kill deMan?

EMMA:  Surprisingly, no.
He was then bitten on the wrist and his pant-leg was set on fire.
The bite marks correspond to the pattern from Mr. Derrida’s teeth.

HATFIELD:  Objection.  You can’t define a whole person by the sum of their parts.
Garbanzo v.  Hanson.

DALLAS:  People v. Garofalo.  Bite marks are admissable in almost any circumstance.

JUDGE:  Overruled.

McCOY:  What happened next?

EMMA:  deMan’s shoelaces were tied together.
Then he was run over by a 1965 Renault.

McCOY:  Jury will note that Mr. Derrida’s vehicle was a 1965 Renault.

HATFIELD:  Objection.  Mr. Derrida is not in possession of that vehicle any longer.

McCOY:  Your honor, the Renault was fished out of Chesapeake Bay at the same time
that the suspect was apprehended trying to dispose of the murder weapon.

JUDGE:  Which murder weapon?

McCOY:  The one that finally killed deMan.

JUDGE:  Do tell.

McCOY:  What finally killed deMan?

EMMA:  deMan was beaten to death with a frozen sea otter.
Bits of frozen fur were found on his head.

McCOY:  Thank you.  Ms. Lazarus.  And thank you mimes.

HATFIELD: Ms. Lazarus, could deMan have been killed with a frozen river otter?

EMMA:  I suppose that is possible.

HATFIELD:  No further questions.

McCOY:  People call Jacques Derrida to the stand.

[A gasp.]

BAILIFF:  Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,
so help you God?

DERRIDA:  Why do we privilege the spoken word over the written word, even as we
use the written word as the basis of legitimacy for our speech?

BAILIFF:  Do you swear?

DERRIDA:  I swear.  I do not swear.  S.  Where.  Wear.  I am where, I wear pants.

JUDGE:  Counselors, please approach the bench.  Ms. Hatfield, I don’t remember you
filing an insanity defense.

HATFIELD:  Your honor, my client does not believe in sanity or insanity.
He believes that they are merely two traditional variables in an endless variety of meanings, none of which are particularly more right than the others.

JUDGE:  So, he’s insane.

HATFIELD:  No.  He believes that he could not kill deMan, because there is no such
thing as killing.  It is an arbitrary construction of the hegemonic structures of society.

JUDGE:  Mr. McCoy, do you have any reason to put Mr. Derrida on the stand other than
to piss off the jury?

McCOY:  No.

JUDGE:  Alright. Any objections from you, Ms. Hatfield?

HATFIELD:  Derrida is his own best defense.

JUDGE:  Then proceed.

McCOY:  Did you kill deMan?

DERRIDA:  I did not kill deMan.  I killed deMan.
To kill is to play into the binary of life and death.  But in between those two possibilities and all around them are multiplicities of meanings.
The slippages between life and death or death and dearth or life lirfe are endless.

McCOY:  Why did you kill deMan?
DERRIDA:  Y is both a letter and a word.  “Y” and “why.”

McCOY:  Did you feel threatened by deMan?
Was deMan standing in the way of your academic career?

HATFIELD:  Objection.  Tolbert v. Flagstaff Community College.  The court ruled
justifiable homicide in the case of professors seeking tenure-track positions.

DALLAS:  People v. Garofalo.  The court ruled set aside the Tolbert decision in cases
where deconstructionist ideology is a factor.

HATFIELD: So are we going to put deconstruction on trial here too?

McCOY:  I wish we could.

JUDGE:  This is a murder case, not an examination of literary theory.
I’ll allow this line of questioning.

McCOY:  Did deMan prevent you from receiving promotions?

DERRIDA:  Pro.  Motions.  Prom oceans.  Promo. T. Ions.  Ions.  Ions.  Ions.

McCOY:  Was deMan keeping you down?

DERRIDA:  Down, down down.  .nwod, nwod, nwoD.

DALLAS:  I’d hate to see what he’d say if you asked him about Spectres of Marx.

McCOY:  Mr. Derrida, do you recognize this book?

[It is The Stranger.]

DERRIDA:  Books are individual realities.  I may or may not recognize the book.
Even if I do, the text is incomprehensible.

McCOY:  It was found in your apartment.  In it you will find several highlighted passages
about a man in Algeria who kills an Arab.  Was this story about you?

HATFIELD:  Objection.  It’s a work of fiction.

JUDGE:  Overruled.

McCOY:  You were born in Algeria, were you not?  The author of this book was killed
in an unfortunate car accident.  Did you have anything to do with that?

HATFIELD:  Objection.  Hearsay.

DALLAS:  People v. Garofalo, your honor.  The court ruled that unfounded speculations
about the mysterious deaths of literary figures can be entered into evidence as informing behavior.

JUDGE:  Let me see that cite.

[She hands the judge a large book.]

JUDGE:  That’s quite a case.  I’ll allow it.

McCOY:  Mr. Derrida, where were you on February 25, 1980?

DERRIDA:  I was where I was.  And I was where I wasn’t.  Depending on what part of Mister or Derrida you mean.  Der.  Derry.  Da. Da. Da.  De Do Do Do.

McCOY:  Let me rephrase the question.  Was Paris one of the multiple sites of slippage
where you might have found yourself on that day?

DERRIDA:  …Er…Yes.

McCOY:  Is there a probability in the endless interplay of meaning and not meaning that
you might have slipped into a laundry truck?

DERRIDA: …Er…Yes.

McCOY:  I’d like to enter into the record People’s 35 – a laundry bag from
Pierre’s Laundry.
Our forensic friends at the FBI say that the laundry in it was last washed early in 1980.  This bag was also found in Mr. Derrida’s apartment.  On February 25, 1980 a truck from Pierre’s laundry struck and killed Roland Barthes, a prominent literary scholar.  Why do you think it is that all these people die around you?

HATFIELD:  Objection.

McCOY:  Withdrawn.

JUDGE:  Are you going somewhere with this?

DALLAS:  Your honor, we have reason to believe Mr. Derrida is implicated in the
deaths of several other people.  We think it shows a pattern of reckless disregard for human life.
 
 

HATFIELD:  Your honor, you can’t let the prosecution go on a fishing expedition to
prove that my client killed one man with unfounded accusations about other crimes.

JUDGE:  I’ll allow it.  I think it’s time we had a little bit of that rough justice that made
our frontiers an exciting place to live.

McCOY:  Mr. Derrida, did you kill or not kill Paul deMan.

DERRIDA:  Yes.

McCOY:  Did you kill or not kill Roland Barthes?

DERRIDA:  Yes.

McCOY:  Did you drive or not drive the laundry truck from Pierre’s Laundry in Paris or
some other place where you were or were not residing?

DERRIDA:  Er…yes.

HATFIELD:  Objection, your honor.
Those are purposefully misleading and confusing questions.

JUDGE:  They seem to be the only ones your client can give a straight answer for.
Overruled.

McCOY: Do you feel any remorse for what you have done?

DERRIDA:  I am not sorry.  I have neither done nor not done anything.
Actions and inactions are merely two sides of a coin which is spinning into infinity.

McCOY:  No further questions, your honor.

JUDGE: Does the prosecution have any more witnesses?

McCOY:  As a matter of fact, yes.

DALLAS:  The people wish to call the Kings of England named Henry.  Hit it!

[One by one the Henry’s enter and sing their verses to the tune of “Henry VIII” by Herman’s Hermits.  Henry is pronounced “Enery.”]
 
 
 

HENRY I: I’m Henry the First I am
 Henry the First I am I am
 I was the youngest of The Conqueror’s sons
 I was more able than the other ones
I married a Mathilda and an Adelaide
 And I skipped out on the First Crusade
 I’m the first English King named Henry
 Henry the First I am.

HENRY II: I’m Henry the Second I am
 Henry the Second I am I am
 I got married to the widow next door
 Her first name was Eleanor
 I had a fight with my Archbishop
 Thomas a Becket was his name
 The next two kings were Richard and John
 For them I am to blame

HENRY I: The Lion in Winter, everybody.  Give him a hand!

HENRY III: I’m Henry the Third I am
 Henry the Third I am I am
 I was the oldest son of the only King John
 I wasn’t much use to anyone
 I left the kingdom with Edward Longshanks
 I was too weak and senile to be a king
 I’m the third English King named Henry
 Henry the Third I am

HENRY II: Give it up for the feeble one, everybody!

HENRY IV: I’m Henry the Fourth I am
 Henry the Fourth I am I am
 I was the son of John of Gaunt
 Lancaster is where we were wont to haunt
 I was the Earl of Derby
 I was Bolingbroke and the Duke of Hereford too
 There were so many things to say about me
 That you’ll have to hear about them in Part 2.

HENRY III: Part 2, similar to the other part!
 
 
 
 

HENRY IV: I’m Henry the Fourth I am
 Henry the Fourth I am I am
 I took the throne from Richard the Second
 I felt guilty for about that long
 I may have suffered from syphilis
 And I had many a fight with young Prince Hal
 I’m the fourth English King named Henry
 Henry the Fourth I am.

HENRY V: I’m Henry the Fifth I am
 Henry the Fifth I am I am
 I got married to the French girl next door
 I was the victor of Agincourt
 My favorite day is St. Crispin’s day
 I challenge you to tell me what day that is
O, for a muse of fire what would I give?
 Henry the Fifth I is.

HENRY IV: Give it up for young Harry!

HENRY VI: I’m Henry the Sixth I am
 Henry the Sixth I am I am
 I was the son of Henry Vee
 Look what trouble it landed me
 I had no head for government
 So I was defeated at Tewkesbury
 I may not have been so successful
 But Shakespeare wrote three plays about me.

HENRY V: Second Part same as the First Part!

HENRY VI: I’m Henry the Sixth I am
 Henry the Sixth I am I am
 I was the son of Henry Vee
 Look what trouble it landed me
 I had no head for government
 So I was defeated at Tewkesbury
 I may not have been so successful
 But Shakespeare wrote three plays about me.

HENRY V: Part 3, a little bit different now!
 
 
 
 

HENRY VI: I’m Henry the Sixth I am
 Henry the Sixth I am I am
 I was the son of Henry Vee
 Look what trouble it landed me
 I fought the War of the Roses
 ‘til I was defeated at Tewkesbury
 I may not have been so successful
 But Shakespeare wrote three plays about me.

HENRY VII: I’m Henry the Seventh I am
 Henry the Seventh I am I am
 I was the victor of Bosworth Field
 Shakespeare didn’t write a play for me
 I ended the Wars of the Roses
 When I took the throne from Richard number three
 I was the first of the Tudor monarchs
 Henry the Seventh, that’s me!

HENRY VI: Let’s hear it for Henry T!

HENRY VIII: I’m Henry the Eighth I am
 Henry the Eighth I am I am
 I got married to the widow next door
 I’d been married five times before
 Aragon, Boleyn, Seymour, Cleves, Howard and Parr
 No I didn’t have a Gertrude or a Fran
 My wives were either named Catherine, Jane or Anne
 Henry the Eighth I am

ALL:  One more time, just like the last one!

HENRY VIII: I’m Henry the Eighth I am
 Henry the Eighth I am I am
 I got married to the widow next door
 I’d been married five times before
 Aragon, Boleyn, Seymour, Cleves, Howard and Parr
 No I didn’t have a Gertrude or a Fran
 My wives were either named Catherine, Jane or Anne
 Henry the Eighth I am

JUDGE:  Well, I have no idea what to make of that.

DALLAS:  The prosecution rests.

JUDGE:  Has the jury reached a verdict?

[A member of the audience stands up.]

MEMBER:  Guilty!

[He/She leads the audience in a chant of “Guilty! Guilty!” for a while.]

JUDGE:  Order in the court!  Do the people have a sentence recommendation?

McCOY: The people recommend that the defendant, Jacques Derrida be put into a permanent state of interplay between life and death with multiple slippages in between.

JUDGE:  So ordered.

HATFIELD:  The defense wished to note its appeal for the record.

JUDGE:  So noted.  Case closed.

[The crowd dissipates.  Dallas and McCoy give each other a big celebratory smile.]

DALLAS:  One thing I still don’t understand.  How could he go through all that trouble to kill deMan and not even recognize what he’d done?

McCOY:  In his mind he didn’t kill deMan.  He just deconstructed him.

[Fade to black.  End credits.]