The People vs Frankenstein by Kevin Glover
ACT I
SCENE 1
LIGHTS UP
Outside a Boston Jailhouse - 1820.
A partial brick wall and some debris suggest a narrow alley and the
backside of a city jailhouse. A barred window is about a man's
height up the wall. A worn sign reads:
"COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS CITY JAILHOUSE - ALL DELIVERIES TO
THE FRONT."
TOMMY AND TYLER, two rag-a-muffin, pre-teen boys, rush on stage,
anxiously trying to sneak a peek inside the small cell window.
TYLER stands on an old wooden crate as TOMMY climbs up his back,
balancing on his shoulders. On his tippy toes, TOMMY's just high
enough to see inside.
TYLER: Ya' see him? Ya' see the monster, yet?
TOMMY: There's somethin' in there. Somethin' big and ugly all
chained up like a animal or somethin'.
TYLER: And is he all burnt up like folks is sayin'?
TOMMY: Hard to tell, not much light in there. But it smells worse than
your mama's fried possum.
TYLER: Well, hurry down so's I can take a peek. That mean ol'
constable'll be creepin' about any sec or so.
SGT. McAFEE, (a stern, overworked Irish accented Boston policeman)
rushes around the corner, a night stick in hand.
MCAFEE: You're durn toot'n! I told you roustabouts before, this
ain't no circus side show.
TOMMY: Scram, Tyler.
The BOYS scamper at the sight of McAFEE. They nearly collide with
OLIVIA HOFFNER, (late-twenties, intelligent, compassionate with a
slight English accent). OLIVIA carries a small basket with medical
supplies. Some rolls of bandages fall out.
TYLER: So sorry, ma'am.
TYLER rushes off to join his friend as OLIVIA collects her bandages.
McAFEE stops near her.
MCAFEE: You here to stare at the freak, too?
OLIVIA: (Rising as she picks up the last bandage roll) I'm here to
tend his wounds. I've heard he was severely burnt in the fire last
night.
MCAFEE: Yeah, he got it bad alright. Won't no doctor go near him.
OLIVIA: That's horrible.
MCAFEE: I wouldn't fuss much. He'll be swinging from a rope soon
enough.
OLIVIA: Surely there will be a trial first? He has rights?
MCAFEE: If the District Attorney had his way, he'd be put down like
a frothing dog.
OLIVIA: But he's not a dog, is he? He has a name. Max. Maxwell
Berg.
MCAFEE: You know that brute?
OLIVIA: Let's just say I'm the closest thing to a mother he has.
MCAFEE: Sure, and I'm blooming St. Peter. Move along, lady.
OLIVIA: I don't expect you to believe me, Constable. (Glancing at
his name badge) Sgt. McAfee. But whatever he looks like, whatever
he's accused of, Max deserves proper medical care and a chance to
tell his side of the story.
MCAFEE: He ain't telling nothing to nobody, lady. His throat's
messed up from all that smoke. He can't barely utter a word.
Less'n he's a mute all along.
OLIVIA: Oh, dear. Please, just a few minutes?
MCAFEE: 'Fraid not, lady. Now, move along. Don't come back
less'n you got a court order.
OLIVIA steps away and McAFEE moves back around the corner. She pauses
to look up at the lone window, her face filled with concern.
FADE TO BLACK
SCENE 2
LIGHTS UP
A Boston Courtroom, Some Weeks Later.
Upstage center is a Judge's raised bench with attached witness dock,
behind which is a door off to the judge's chambers. Off to the side
is a US flag with 23 stars and a Massachusetts state flag. Stage left
is the prosecution's table with two chairs, in front of a wooden
rail with a swinging gate, separating it from a modest gallery of
several chairs or benches. Stage right is the defense's table with
three chairs, and a door off to the hallway outside the Courtroom.
The Courtroom is empty except for ALEXANDER COOPERSMITH (fifties,
distinguished yet drab, with a thick Bostonian accent) and ERNEST
FRANKENSTEIN (mid-twenties, well-dressed, likable but aloof, with
slight Austrian accent), ERNEST sits at the prosecution table,
brushing a sporty Bavarian hat. COOPERSMITH paces nearby as he pages
through an impressive stack of documents, looking a little
exasperated.
COOPERSMITH: That malicious viper.
ERNEST: Easy, Coopersmith. What foul mood has possessed you?
COOPERSMITH: That cad, Bellini. First he strong arms the case from
that greenhorn public defendant, then he inundates the Court with yet
more of his confounded pre-trial motions.
ERNEST: You've said yourself the evidence in this case is
overwhelming.
COOPERSMITH: I believe I said "compelling," Ernest. Mark me, this
rascal Bellini is no frontier barrister. He's as slippery as a snake
oil salesman.
ERNEST: Certainly, we have the truth on our side.
COOPERSMITH: Truth has no place in a courtroom.
ERNEST: You do your own skills a disservice. You've the best
conviction rate of any prosecutor in Massachusetts. COOPERSMITH:
He'll paint Maxwell Berg a misunderstood
victim. Mark that, too, Ernest. Juries can be fickle things.
ERNEST: That brute is the devil incarnate.
COOPERSMITH: So you keep saying. But now the press has
gotten a whiff of things, no doubt courtesy of one Cornwall Bellini,
Esquire, and this quiet little affair is front page news.
ERNEST: "The People vs. Frankenstein." I read the morning's
Gazette, too. Nearly choked on my tea. Frankenstein! As if that
abomination was any kin to me.
COOPERSMITH: We've tread that path before, Ernest. I was not aware
Max had adopted a different surname when I issued the warrant.
ERNEST: So my once proud family name continues to be synonymous with
that monster. And if that's not bad enough, that wretched Shelley
book is back in print and being sold on every street corner. Where's
the injunction you promised?
COOPERSMITH: As much as you hate the inaccuracies, the book leaves
little doubt that the creature kills without compunction. ERNEST: All
the good it does, when we can only press charges for one blasted
murder.
COOPERSMITH: It's God's own providence that ship was registered
here in Boston, Ernest. As I've tried to explain before, we've no
jurisdiction for any crimes committed back in Geneva.
ERNEST: Vienna. Geneva is another inaccuracy of the Shelley book.
COOPERSMITH: Nevertheless, outside the purview of this Court. And
don't be so quick to discount the lesser charges. Arson is still a
capital offense in Massachusetts.
ERNEST: And the two other deaths go unatoned for? Where's the
justice in that?
COOPERSMITH: Justice will be served if Max hangs for anything. Take
the victories the Lord provides.
ERNEST: That monstrosity destroyed everyone I've loved or cared
about. I move an ocean away and still he haunts me. His blight on this
world must be eliminated.
COOPERSMITH: I'm a man of God, Ernest. That creature offends my
every fiber. Bellini will not best us in this, or any court. I've a
bit of the snake charmer in me, too.
The BAILIFF opens the door behind the defense table, letting in a
SMALL CROWD of WITNESSES and OTHERS who make the unfamiliar walk
across the room to the gallery and find their seats.
OLIVIA enters at the end of the crowd, dressed a little more formally
than last we saw her. She removes her hat as she walks towards the
defense table, carrying a small handbag. ERNEST is delighted to see
her.
ERNEST: Olivia?
OLIVIA: Ernie? Ernest. It's been a long time.
ERNEST: Too long. How it lifts my heavy heart to see you again
You've come all the way to Boston for the trial?
OLIVIA: No. I live here now. I've a small apothecary in Quincy.
ERNEST: You always did love your beakers and potions, but I thought
surely you'd run off to become a brilliant surgeon somewhere?
Victor often said you had the most gifted hands and mind of anyone
he'd ever met!
OLIVIA: One of your brother's most radical notions was that women
had value beyond the kitchen or boudoir.
ERNEST: Radical notions were his life's blood.
OLIVIA: Indeed. And how you've grown? You look so much like Victor,
it's uncanny.
ERNEST: You flatter me. But you? You haven't aged a day in what?
Nearly a decade? Such a delight for you to show up now, to offer
support as we send that beast to-
OLIVIA: (Interrupting)-Ernest, things aren't as you may think.
The general murmur of the crowd in the gallery drops to a hush as
CORNWALL BELLINI (fifties, flamboyant, dressed like a Southern Dandy)
enters from the door stage right, carrying a fine leather briefcase.
He makes a substantial show of taking in the room.
BELLINI: My, my, my. What a quaint little courthouse y'all have up
here. Good day, gentlemen. I trust I haven't kept anyone waiting?
COOPERSMITH: We're not swayed by theatrics here, Bellini. BELLINI:
Life is theatre, Coop; you've just got to grab center stage.
COOPERSMITH: It's Coopersmith. And I think you'll find a little
humility is favored here as well, Sir.
BELLINI: I am ever a humble servant of the Court.
COOPERSMITH: Taking one case pro bono does not a humble servant make.
BELLINI: You wound me, Coop. (To OLIVIA) Now, come along
dear, we've matters to attend.
OLIVIA looks sheepishly at ERNEST, then turns and walks with
BELLINI to the defense table. ERNEST takes a step forward.
ERNEST: Olivia?
OLIVIA: I'm sorry, Ernest.
ERNEST: You're helping this charlatan?
BELLINI: (Offering a toothy smile) Helping me? My good man,
she's all but solicited my services. Her impassioned letter moved
me to clear my calendar and champion the cause of righteousness.
ERNEST: Tell me this is not true?
Before OLIVIA can respond, the BAILIFF comes forward, his voice
raised to be heard above the din.
BAILIFF: Hear Ye, Hear Ye. All those having business before
the Court, step forward and ye shall be heard. All rise.
EVERYONE rises to their feet. OLIVIA quietly steps to one of the
extra chairs at the defense table.
JUDGE L.L GARDNER (stern, sixties, smoking a large pipe)
emerges from the upstage door and approaches the bench.
BAILIFF (CONT'D): The Honorable Judge Lawrence Lee Gardner
presiding.
ERNEST looks desperately to OLIVIA, but BELLINI casually
blocks his view.
JUDGE WALLACE takes his seat.
JUDGE: You may be seated.
The COURT sits.
JUDGE (CONT'D): Case number one nine three one, the People
vs. Frankenstein is now in session. The Court will consider pretrial
motions at this time. Given the number of them before the Court, I
urge counsel to keep your arguments brief. Mr. Bellini, the defense
may begin.
BELLINI: Thank you ever so much, Your Eminence.
JUDGE: "Your Honor" will suffice.
BELLINI: Yes, yes, of course.
JUDGE: Your client has waived his right to be present during
pretrial?
BELLINI: He has, Your Honor. At least until a few unpleasantries
can be decided.
BELLINI hands a sheet of paper to the BAILIFF, who hands it to
the JUDGE.
BELLINI (CON'T): Defense moves that my client be permitted
to appear un-shackled in court.
COOPERSMITH: Objection, Your Honor. The monster is a
threat to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
BELLINI: Iron shackles will give the jury the impression that
the defendant is a dangerous and violent man. Presumed guilty,
before the trial even commences.
COOPERSMITH: Your Honor, the accused is known to have
strangled two of his victims with his bare hands.
BELLINI: Your Honor, let's not mistake the much maligned,
wounded man, unfairly incarcerated in your stockade, for some
make-believe creature in a garish penny dreadful. But don't take
my word for it. My delicate associate here has visited the poor soul
just this morning. What sort of threat do you imagine he poses,
Miss Hoffner?
JUDGE: I don't see any co-counsel listed on the docket, Mr.Bellini.
A slight flutter of laughter from the GALLERY.
BELLINI: I beg the Court's indulgence, if I've given the
impression of some impropriety. Miss Hoffner is not here in any legal
capacity. She is simply here to advise me.
JUDGE: Advise you on what matter?
BELLINI: Miss Hoffner was a longtime friend of the Frankenstein
family. She was present during the, uh, "creation" of Maxwell Berg.
COOPERSMITH: The People ask why this association wasn't
disclosed during discovery? Why isn't Miss, Hoffner is it? On the
witness list?
BELLINI: Miss Hoffner was not present at the time of any of
the alleged murders and so can offer no testimony as a witness.
But her long-time association with all of the involved parties will
provide invaluable anecdotal context. In much the same way, I
suspect, that Victor's brother Ernest will no doubt dredge up some
household dirt for the prosecution.
JUDGE: Do the People have any objection?
COOPERSMITH rises, but ERNEST tugs his sleeve, shaking his
head "no." COOPERSMITH sits.
COOPERSMITH: No objection.
JUDGE: Very well. I'll allow her to address the Court. Miss
Hoffner, in your layman's opinion, is Maxwell Berg a threat to
these proceedings?
OLIVIA: (Rising) His height, build, and scarred visage will no
doubt startle most, Your Honor. But he can barely speak, his range of
motion is severely limited, and he is still quite weak from his wounds.
COOPERSMITH: Is it not true that his condition improves daily?
OLIVIA: His constitution is remarkable, yes. But he's resigned
himself to accept whatever fate the Court has in store for him.
Frankly, Your Honor, he's like a big, wounded puppy.
COOPERSMITH: The hound dog defense, is it? I'll withdraw my
objection if Your Honor will agree to arm the bailiff and post two
additional guards, armed with rifles, to accompany him at all times.
BELLINI: Armed guards? That's the same as if he were in
chains! Prejudicial, Your Honor.
COOPERSMITH: Chains or rifles, Mr. Bellini. Take your pick.
JUDGE: Mr. Coopersmith, I'll keep my own counsel on what
safety measures are appropriate in my court room, thank you. Miss
Hoffner?
OLIVIA: I don't believe he'll cause trouble.
COOPERSMITH: I would remind the Court that even a gentle
dog can become rabid.
JUDGE: I agree with the defense that the presence of armed
guards would be prejudicial, but having the bailiff carry a sidearm
seems prudent. Next motion?
OLIVIA hands BELLINI a hardbound edition of Shelley's
"Frankenstein" novel. BELLINI raises it for all to see.
BELLINI: Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein: The Modern
Prometheus." I move that this work of fiction, and any reference
to it, be prohibited during the trial. The novel was written by a
precocious, impressionable teenage child. She's painted my client
as a remorseless monstrosity. He'll never get a fair trial if this is
permitted to circulate.
COOPERSMITH: Your Honor, that book is based, in large part, on
actual correspondence submitted into evidence by eyewitnesses to the
events. In some cases, those letters are a word-for-word
transcription.
BELLINI: But in many, many cases, even Counsel must concede,
the author has taken certain, shall we say, "dramatic liberties."
Especially in regards to the more sensational aspects of the story.
JUDGE: Agreed. A work of fiction has no place in a court of law.
Motion granted. Counsel will question prospective jurors carefully
at Voir Dire, but that's as far as I'll allow on the matter.