SAID GRAVESIDE
by Pamela Hobart Carter
CHARACTERS
MIKE
COP
JULIE
SEATTLE TIMES REPORTER, HAL BERNTON
JULIE wears black, faces an open coffin, its contents hidden from the audience, holds a
bouquet of daisies, or some other humble flower. She searches her purse for a hankie.
MIKE wears a trench coat and porkpie hat. He sits at a desk, phone to his ear, writing in
his notebook. Two chairs. The COP is in uniform, pacing her beat. HAL stands as far
away as possible, always speaks through his bullhorn.
HAL BERNTON
This part isn’t funny.
MIKE
I would wish we could be, Hal.
JULIE
Some breaths have a catch.
COP
Some beats strike a different tone.
MIKE
Some parts of life involve death. I studied the ancient classics, Sophocles: “For the dead
there are no more toils.” But we’re alive and so we must suffer a little. The news we need
is not always the news we want.
HAL BERNTON
“Journalism is a passion that never dies!”
MIKE
(Asks COP,) Who do I call today?
COP
Another corpse by the river.
JULIE drops flower in to coffin. A sound might accompany each flower dropped.
MIKE
Somebody’s child.
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JULIE
My child?
MIKE
Talk, story, ink, question, column-- How much ink? Ink for the child; to honor the child.
Enough ink to capture the killer.
COP
Hot on the trail.
MIKE
For two dozen years.
COP
Hot and cold.
JULIE
(Drops a flower into the coffin,) Expulsion--(Drops a flower into the coffin,) Lure-(Drops a flower into the coffin,) Revelation. (Drops a flower into the coffin,) Grief.
COP
--evidence, inquiry, give-and-take, confession, currency-MIKE
--columns, articles, answers. “Human beings are only breath and shadow.” My man,
Sophocles. Every day a call about death. Every day, I-MIKE approaches COP.
MIKE
Who do I call today?
COP
Looks like another Green River Mother.
JULIE drops a flower. MIKE retreats.
MIKE
I say it each day. Years of… (repeats same words and actions with the COP.) Who do I
call today?
COP
Looks like another Green River Mother.
JULIE drops a flower.
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MIKE
Who do I call today?
COP
Looks like another Green River Mother.
JULIE drops a flower.
JULIE
(To COP,) We had some words. In fact, I told her to go. She heard that. She ran. She’d
never left before. We’d had words before. Everyone has words. They’re just words, you
think. She didn’t come home last night. Her friends didn’t know where she was.
COP
It was too soon.
JULIE
She didn’t come home the next day. She hadn’t gone to school. She never --COP and JULIE
Months and months of nothing.
JULIE
She said nothing. No word. No word from her. No word from anyone. She didn’t come
home. We had some words.
COP puts hand on her shoulder. MIKE takes the COP’s hand off JULIE’s shoulder.
COP
(To MIKE,) Forty-eight prostitutes at his hands. Maybe as many as 90.
MIKE
(Writes,) Most were children. Teenagers think they’re indestructible. Good kids.
Responsible. Their word is their bond. They forget that it gets dark at a certain hour, that
the bus doesn’t run on Sunday or—and/or-- they try the drink, drugs. Then they’re
something special: more indestructible. Stay out longer. Piss off their parents, neighbors,
strangers. Exercise poor judgment. Maybe as many as 90 children. “Grief teaches the
steadiest minds to waver.”
COP
It’s a pattern, Mike. The prostitutes. He’s taking out our garbage. Write the story, Mike!
MIKE gives COP cold shoulder. JULIE mourns.
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COP
You piss me off sometimes, Mike. You just nod and I don’t see you again until we have
to make another call.
MIKE
Wait for, find the truth.
HAL BERNTON
“Journalism is a passion that never dies!”
COP
Who is that guy?
MIKE
Seattle Times reporter. Hal Bernton. On a mission.
COP
(Walks to coffin, pulls out a cap, a watch,) I’m jumping around. Mike holds that
steadiness.
MIKE
Who’m I calling today? “For the dead there are no more toils.” As they fall into my ear,
into my hands, I spread tales of ordinary humanity, mystery. About the deaths, the lives,
the dead, the remains, the remaining.
JULIE
Breath and shadow—
COP
I didn’t think I’d like Mike, you know. He was just part of the job. Then I see how he
notices the wormy apples and they show up in the paper. He burns the liars. I start
feeling-MIKE and COP
Protected.
COP
Protective. He even gets some folks out of jail that should never have been there. I wanna
give him what he needs even when he pisses me off. (Pulls out a purse, T-shirt, a pair of
shorts.) Missing. Presumed. Dead. Victim. Green. River.
MIKE
No substantiation, no story. Listen for the false notes.
COP
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That straight up approach. I start looking you up when I smell a rat. (MIKE steps closer.)
You can crawl places I can’t. And then, I love you for it. (MIKE steps closer.) Respect,
respect you. And the brain on you, really.
MIKE
I thank those powerful guns. Powers behind a free press.
HAL BERNTON
This part is not romantic. “Journalism is a passion.”
MIKE
“The truth is always the strongest argument.” Sophocles.
JULIE
These are her dental records.
COP
(Lays out cap, purse, watch, T-shirt and shorts as if accoutering a person, lying there.)
To JULIE,) It’s a match.
MIKE
I make the call.
JULIE
This is Julie.
MIKE
I’m sorry you lost your daughter. Tell me about her. What did she love?
JULIE smiles at a memory. Makes eye contact with MIKE. He smiles back.
JULIE
What she loved---. She played basketball. She acted in the school musical last year. She
loved-- (JULIE walks to MIKE. Sits with him. He covers her hand with his, jots notes
with his other.)
MIKE
Julie, some words carry too much freight; others save us. One word can save us.
HAL BERNTON
“Journalism is a passion that never dies!”
MIKE
The “word frees us of all the weight and pain of life.” Ink, story, column. (Tosses in
notebook.) I was good at the phone calls. “Ignorant men don’t know what good they hold
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in their hands until they’ve flung it away.” (Tosses newspaper into coffin.) And the
wise—
JULIE
One word? Expulsion. Lure. Revelation. Then I did know. Then phone calls. Talk of a
corpse. (JULIE approaches “corpse,” kneels. To COP,) That was my daughter. (To
MIKE,) My daughter was a corpse. (MIKE joins her.) My angry words were the last
words she heard from me. That man had found her when I couldn’t. Lure. That man had
talked to my daughter. That man had used some words on my daughter. The words
became traps. She thought they were the right words. She got in his truck. That man
killed my daughter. Because we’d had words. (JULIE lays flowers by the “corpse.” To
MIKE,) I never thought I would want to say another word, hear another word over the
phone. But your words kept her from being killed twice. You named her. Never called
her by a job or a crime. My daughter. She meant the world to me.
MIKE
The word is love.
MIKE collects the desk, folds it, the chairs, into the coffin. JULIE has no more flowers,
takes MIKE’s hand instead. COP puts a hand on his shoulder. They look over to HAL.
HAL BERNTON
“Journalism is a passion that never dies!”
END
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