Behind the Lie

TIME: The present

LOCATION: A place suitable for interrogations

CHARACTERS:
POLICEMAN, police detective, male, 30-40 years old. The interrogator
DOCTOR, psychiatrist, male, 35-45 years old. The interrogated

Scene One

Lights up on a simple but constrained interrogation room, with several large pipes inexplicably cutting across the ceiling, making one feel stifled. Painted in white strokes on the pipes are strange letters, symbols, and a skull and crossbones, causing one to wonder what once took place here. Dim light seeps out from cracks in the pipes, frail and cowardly in the dark space. Drops of water ooze out from the pipe—collecting, falling, crashing to the floor, bursting—their melodious sound constant and monotonous, making the space seem as if it is pushing beyond its cramped confines. Thus, the tiny space seems increasingly surreptitious and unstable.

A man quietly sits on a chair, his back perfectly straight, as if pondering something deeply or as if his mind is elsewhere. From the look of his uniform, he is a police detective, or at least he strikes one as an interrogator of some sort. After a long while, he seems to come up with an idea, and from his bag he draws a pack of cigarettes, takes one out, lights it, and takes a heavy drag as if trying to inhale all the smoke into his stomach. Then, he takes another long drag that rises up in circles like a demon under the light, coldly fixing its gaze on him and circling around him.

The POLICEMAN extends his hand as if to flick the ashes off the end of his cigarette, but his hand trembles and the ash falls outside the ashtray. This gives the impression that he is nervous. He takes another heavy drag, trying with all his might to control his nerves, but unexpectedly chokes, suddenly coughing violently.

The POLICEMAN looks at the cigarette in his hand, hesitates a moment, then puts it out. He stands up and continues walking, his boots striking the floor with a clear sound. His wavering footsteps make it appear he is searching for something, and finally he seems to find it as he stops in front of the circuit breaker at the corner of the wall. He pushes the lever, making a banging sound. The lights come on, and the huge wall facing him has a glass wall, behind which suddenly appears an isolation room.

Along with the strong light and isolation room, the DOCTOR suddenly appears in the interrogation seat. He raises his hands to block the light—they are in handcuffs. This makes him seem impatient and frightened. He stands up, starts walking, slowly adapts, and suddenly it seems as if he has arrived somewhere and so he stops walking and carefully listens to something. Then he walks over to the glass wall, leans on the wall and strains to see something with his pale, twisted face pressed against the glass.

The POLICEMAN lights another cigarette and smokes it with utmost calm, flicking its ash as if right in the DOCTOR's line of vision.

The POLICEMAN walks over to the wall and puts his face very close to that of the DOCTOR. He carefully sizes up the DOCTOR inside, as if observing a captured animal. The DOCTOR seems to sense something, and his face is cold and expressionless.

The DOCTOR finally gives up and sits down, seeming dejected, perhaps pretending he is dejected. He mechanically fiddles with his handcuffs, somewhat preoccupied, and the metallic sound is dull and drab in the room.

Suddenly, the POLICEMAN makes up his mind and swiftly extinguishes his cigarette.

Policeman:

(Sternly) Tell me!

The DOCTOR is surprised, lifts his head and looks around, searching for the source of the voice, and at last seems to be staring at the POLICEMAN.

Policeman:

(Sternly) Why did you kill her?

Doctor:

(Timidly) I . . . I didn't kill her.

Policeman:

Then who did?

Doctor:

I don't know.

Policeman:

You don't know?

Doctor:

I honestly . . . don't know.

Policeman:

You honestly don't know?

Doctor:

I . . . I really...