[Scene: A grimy windowless backroom lit only by a bank of harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Two men, INTERROGATOR A and INTERROGATOR B stand on either side of a wooden table, Strapped onto the table is the DETAINEE, clad only in boxer shorts. As the scene opens, INTERROGATOR A is applying pressure to a thumbscrew attached to the DETAINEE'S right hand.]
DETAINEE: “YOWWWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “All right, Muhammad, we know you planted a nuke in the city; we know all about it except where you put it and when it’s set to go off. Confess!” [He lessens pressure on the thumbscrew.]
DETAINEE: “I keep telling you guys my name’s not Muhammad — it’s Jim Smith of…” [INTERROGATOR A increases pressure on the thumbscrew.] “YOWWWWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Stop with your lies! We have intercepted…”
INTERROGATOR B: “Legally.”
INTERROGATOR A: “…Legally, communications between your terrorist cell chief and Osama bin Laden. We know all about the plot. Now tell us where the bomb is planted and when it’s going to go off, before we really get nasty.”
INTERROGATOR B: “But legally nasty.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yeah, legally nasty.”
DETAINEE: “Look, let me get some sleep and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I can’t even think straight after being up for 48 hours.”
INTERROGATOR A: “You want to sleep? Tell us what we want to know!”
INTERROGATOR B: “He’s not responding properly. Time for Plan B.”
[INTERROGATOR A takes the thumbscrew off of the DETAINEE'S hand. From the shadows in the corner of the room, he wheels up a cart containing a black box with wires hanging from each side. He pulls down the DETAINEE'S boxer shorts and clamps two wires to the DETAINEE'S scrotum. He pulls a lever on the cart.]
DETAINEE: “YAHHHHHHHHHH!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Tell us where the bomb is or you’ll get more.”
DETAINEE: “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m Jim Smith of Dubuque, Iowa! When you dragged me out of my car at the stoplight I was on my way to a Hallowe…YAHHHHHHHH!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yes, we’ve heard all of your lies before! Do you think we’re idiots! Hah! You were wearing a turban and robe because you were going to a Halloween party as the Sheik of Araby. Hah! We know from our secret intercepted communications…”
INTERROGATOR B: “Completely legal, of course.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Our completely legal secret intercepted communications that you are actually Muhammad al-Fetid, a right-hand man to Osama bin Laden himself!”
DETAINEE: “I thought you already caught all of Osama’s right-hand men? YOWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Doesn’t do to crack wise in your situation, Muhammad.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Don’t make us resort to sterner interrogation techniques some international bodies may misinterpret as torture.”
DETAINEE: “This isn’t torture? You keep me up for two days, use a thumbscrew on me and now you’re shocking my testicles — you don’t call that torture?! If I’m under arrest, when do I get to call a lawyer?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Uh, we are not responsible for your bout of insomnia, and thumb realignment devices and electronic genital stimulation harms no major organs, so it does not constitute torture, according to the law as construed by our government. Also, as a suspected terrorist we have determined is an enemy combatant, you have no rights, even if you’re an American citizen.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Completely legal.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Sure is.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yeah, just ask the Attorney General — after you tell us where the bomb is.” [Pulls the lever again.]
DETAINEE: “YAHHHHHHHHH! B-B-But I-I don’t know anything!”
INTERROGATOR B: “He’s not cooperating. Time to try another method.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Hey, Muhammad, you like swimming, jet-skiing, boating, stuff like that?”
DETAINEE: “Oh, sure, every time I get a chance I head over to the lake.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Then you’re gonna love this.”
[The wooden board to which the DETAINEE is strapped is slanted down, with the DETAINEE'S head below his feet. INTERROGATOR A covers the DETAINEE'S head in plastic wrap with a hole left open for his mouth. A wet towel is placed over his mouth and a half-gallon of water is poured slowly into the towel. The DETAINEE tries to scream, but his screams are muffled by the wet towel and the water filling his mouth.]
INTERROGATOR A [removing the towel]: “Ready to tell us yet?”
DETAINEE [spitting out water, gasping, trying to catch his breath]: “I am a loyal American — if I knew where any bomb was, I’d tell you, but I don…” [The towel is tossed back over the DETAINEE'S mouth. A full gallon of water is poured into the towel this time, more slowly than before.]
INTERROGATOR B: “Careful, we don’t want to kill him.”
INTERROGATOR A [removing the towel]: “Oh, Muhammad here is a pretty tough guy, he can take a gallon easy — right, Muhammad?”
[The DETAINEE is staring wide-eyed. His mouth is open, but he's not gasping for air.]
INTERROGATOR B: “What’s wrong with him?”
INTERROGATOR A [bringing the table up so that the DETAINEE is nearly standing]: “He’s just got a little water in his lungs.” [INTERROGATOR A pounds the DETAINEE on the back.] “C’mon, Muhammad, cough it up.”
[The DETAINEE does not respond.]
INTERROGATOR B [after feeling the DETAINEE'S carotid artery, listening to his chest, looking into his eyes]: “Oh, hell, he’s dead — he’s had a heart attack.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Hey, they said he was in good health when they brought him up here.”
[A cell phone on INTERROGATOR B's belt buzzes. INTERROGATOR B answers it, listens intently, mutters in low tones for a few seconds, and then flips it closed in disgust.]
INTERROGATOR B: “Wonderful. They just found out the e-mails and phone calls they intercepted were between a scriptwriter and a movie producer. There is no nuke planted in the city, and Muhammad al-Fetid was just a character in the script played by an actor named JIm Smith.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Jesus, how could they get all that wrong?”
INTERROGATOR B: “How could they think there was WMD in Iraq?”
INTERROGATOR A: “Good point.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Now we have to get rid of the body.”
INTERROGATOR A: “The usual?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Yeah, dress him up like an Iraqi soldier, put a bullet in the back of his head, and dump him on a street in Baghdad.”
INTERROGATOR A: “And Mrs. Smith out in Dubuque?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Ah, people go missing all the time.”
INTERROGATOR A: “One of these days they’re going to catch up to these tricks.”
INTERROGATOR B: “So what if they do? We’d get hit with some bad publicity but, as employees of Blackwater Interrogations Unlimited, we automatically have immunity from prosecution. It’s the law.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Good point.”
[Fade to black.]
Copyright 2007 R.S. Janes.
A Torture Premise
[Scene: A grimy windowless backroom lit only by a bank of harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Two men, INTERROGATOR A and INTERROGATOR B stand on either side of a wooden table, Strapped onto the table is the DETAINEE, clad only in boxer shorts. As the scene opens, INTERROGATOR A is applying pressure to a thumbscrew attached to the DETAINEE'S right hand.]
DETAINEE: “YOWWWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “All right, Muhammad, we know you planted a nuke in the city; we know all about it except where you put it and when it’s set to go off. Confess!” [He lessens pressure on the thumbscrew.]
DETAINEE: “I keep telling you guys my name’s not Muhammad — it’s Jim Smith of…” [INTERROGATOR A increases pressure on the thumbscrew.] “YOWWWWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Stop with your lies! We have intercepted…”
INTERROGATOR B: “Legally.”
INTERROGATOR A: “…Legally, communications between your terrorist cell chief and Osama bin Laden. We know all about the plot. Now tell us where the bomb is planted and when it’s going to go off, before we really get nasty.”
INTERROGATOR B: “But legally nasty.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yeah, legally nasty.”
DETAINEE: “Look, let me get some sleep and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I can’t even think straight after being up for 48 hours.”
INTERROGATOR A: “You want to sleep? Tell us what we want to know!”
INTERROGATOR B: “He’s not responding properly. Time for Plan B.”
[INTERROGATOR A takes the thumbscrew off of the DETAINEE'S hand. From the shadows in the corner of the room, he wheels up a cart containing a black box with wires hanging from each side. He pulls down the DETAINEE'S boxer shorts and clamps two wires to the DETAINEE'S scrotum. He pulls a lever on the cart.]
DETAINEE: “YAHHHHHHHHHH!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Tell us where the bomb is or you’ll get more.”
DETAINEE: “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m Jim Smith of Dubuque, Iowa! When you dragged me out of my car at the stoplight I was on my way to a Hallowe…YAHHHHHHHH!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yes, we’ve heard all of your lies before! Do you think we’re idiots! Hah! You were wearing a turban and robe because you were going to a Halloween party as the Sheik of Araby. Hah! We know from our secret intercepted communications…”
INTERROGATOR B: “Completely legal, of course.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Our completely legal secret intercepted communications that you are actually Muhammad al-Fetid, a right-hand man to Osama bin Laden himself!”
DETAINEE: “I thought you already caught all of Osama’s right-hand men? YOWWWWWW!”
INTERROGATOR A: “Doesn’t do to crack wise in your situation, Muhammad.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Don’t make us resort to sterner interrogation techniques some international bodies may misinterpret as torture.”
DETAINEE: “This isn’t torture? You keep me up for two days, use a thumbscrew on me and now you’re shocking my testicles — you don’t call that torture?! If I’m under arrest, when do I get to call a lawyer?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Uh, we are not responsible for your bout of insomnia, and thumb realignment devices and electronic genital stimulation harms no major organs, so it does not constitute torture, according to the law as construed by our government. Also, as a suspected terrorist we have determined is an enemy combatant, you have no rights, even if you’re an American citizen.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Completely legal.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Sure is.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Yeah, just ask the Attorney General — after you tell us where the bomb is.” [Pulls the lever again.]
DETAINEE: “YAHHHHHHHHH! B-B-But I-I don’t know anything!”
INTERROGATOR B: “He’s not cooperating. Time to try another method.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Hey, Muhammad, you like swimming, jet-skiing, boating, stuff like that?”
DETAINEE: “Oh, sure, every time I get a chance I head over to the lake.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Then you’re gonna love this.”
[The wooden board to which the DETAINEE is strapped is slanted down, with the DETAINEE'S head below his feet. INTERROGATOR A covers the DETAINEE'S head in plastic wrap with a hole left open for his mouth. A wet towel is placed over his mouth and a half-gallon of water is poured slowly into the towel. The DETAINEE tries to scream, but his screams are muffled by the wet towel and the water filling his mouth.]
INTERROGATOR A [removing the towel]: “Ready to tell us yet?”
DETAINEE [spitting out water, gasping, trying to catch his breath]: “I am a loyal American — if I knew where any bomb was, I’d tell you, but I don…” [The towel is tossed back over the DETAINEE'S mouth. A full gallon of water is poured into the towel this time, more slowly than before.]
INTERROGATOR B: “Careful, we don’t want to kill him.”
INTERROGATOR A [removing the towel]: “Oh, Muhammad here is a pretty tough guy, he can take a gallon easy — right, Muhammad?”
[The DETAINEE is staring wide-eyed. His mouth is open, but he's not gasping for air.]
INTERROGATOR B: “What’s wrong with him?”
INTERROGATOR A [bringing the table up so that the DETAINEE is nearly standing]: “He’s just got a little water in his lungs.” [INTERROGATOR A pounds the DETAINEE on the back.] “C’mon, Muhammad, cough it up.”
[The DETAINEE does not respond.]
INTERROGATOR B [after feeling the DETAINEE'S carotid artery, listening to his chest, looking into his eyes]: “Oh, hell, he’s dead — he’s had a heart attack.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Hey, they said he was in good health when they brought him up here.”
[A cell phone on INTERROGATOR B's belt buzzes. INTERROGATOR B answers it, listens intently, mutters in low tones for a few seconds, and then flips it closed in disgust.]
INTERROGATOR B: “Wonderful. They just found out the e-mails and phone calls they intercepted were between a scriptwriter and a movie producer. There is no nuke planted in the city, and Muhammad al-Fetid was just a character in the script played by an actor named JIm Smith.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Jesus, how could they get all that wrong?”
INTERROGATOR B: “How could they think there was WMD in Iraq?”
INTERROGATOR A: “Good point.”
INTERROGATOR B: “Now we have to get rid of the body.”
INTERROGATOR A: “The usual?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Yeah, dress him up like an Iraqi soldier, put a bullet in the back of his head, and dump him on a street in Baghdad.”
INTERROGATOR A: “And Mrs. Smith out in Dubuque?”
INTERROGATOR B: “Ah, people go missing all the time.”
INTERROGATOR A: “One of these days they’re going to catch up to these tricks.”
INTERROGATOR B: “So what if they do? We’d get hit with some bad publicity but, as employees of Blackwater Interrogations Unlimited, we automatically have immunity from prosecution. It’s the law.”
INTERROGATOR A: “Good point.”
[Fade to black.]
Copyright 2007 R.S. Janes.