A Play: NO Expiration Date on Murder

“BENGHAZI”

by OPOVV, ©2013

Amb. Christopher Stevens, Glen Doherty, Tyrone Woods and Sean Smith were killed at a U.S. outpost on September 11, 2012 with no government accountability to date

(Dec. 24, 2013) — ACT I

The curtain rises on a stage that is set as a bedroom in a MacBeth play, as in a castle. Center of the stage is a bed with a woman propped up with reading glasses on who looks surprising like Hillary Clinton in an 1800’s nightgown, including cap. Indirect lighting is from the wall sconces. Subdued music is that of Max Bruch’s “Scottish Fantasy” and the rumbling of thunder. A mighty clash is heard, the lights flicker, then go out. The stage is dark, then the sound of chains is heard and a dim spotlight shows four men, covered in rags and blood, entering from stage left.

“Who’s there? How dare you invade my space! Get out!” directs the woman from the bed.

“Not so easy, lady. We’re the ones you turned your back on. You were our boss and you treated us like dirt. We followed your orders to the best of our ability and when we needed help from you, you hung up on us,” spoke one of the men, who are slowly advancing toward the bed.

“I’ll call for help,” says the woman.

“Call if you must, but it’ll do you no good. Don’t you understand, by letting us die, no one trusts you or any other chain of command in the government anymore. We’re going for a little ride, so just stay calm and pay attention,” speaks another one of the men.

“Who ARE you?” asks the woman.

“All will become clear,” recite the men in unison.

The curtain lowers as the bed and the four men silently rise toward the ceiling.

ACT II

The curtain rises on a horrific scene: a room is being attacked. We hear rifle shots and grenade blasts while the one actor we can see is taking cover under a desk which is in the center of the stage. The lady in the bed and the four men are off to stage right.

“Hello! Hello? State Department? Oh, good. Say, this is Ambassador Stevens. What? S-T-E-V-E-N-S, got that? We’re being attacked and we need help. Please connect, what? No, I can’t stop the noise. Connect me to the Secretary of State. What? She left orders not to take any of my calls?”

One of the men standing around the bed asks the woman, “Is that true? You knew I was trying to get in contact with you so you told the operator not to transfer the call? Just so you could have “plausible deniability?”

Suddenly, the room is overrun. The man under the desk is dragged out and beaten, the phone ends up on top of the desk while the man is dragged off stage right, past the bed and the four men.

As the curtain is lowered, we hear the operator on the phone explain to the Ambassador, “Face it, fellow, you’ve been left out to dry, or hang, or whatever. Just maybe you haven’t read the latest Rules of Engagement: you’ve just been ‘disengaged’: history. Don’t bother us with any more phone calls for “Help, we’re being overrun” any more. You knew about LTC Terry Lakin, so what makes you think you‘re any different?”

ACT III

The bed with the woman and the four men dressed in rags and blood are in center stage of a military graveyard with tombstones all around. The backdrop is of yet more tombstones off to infinity. The subdued sounds of “Scottish Fantasy” can be heard yet again. As the curtain rises, a line of wounded military men walk across the stage, left to right. Each one stops at the bed, looks at the woman in the eye and recites when and where they bought the farm.

“Gettysburg,” followed by “ Lexington, Camp Dwyer, Old Ironsides, Shiloh, Normandy Beach, Chu Lai, Iwo Jima, Pearl Harbor, Fob Delaram, Bunker Hill, Midway, USS Indianapolis, USS Lexington, Fort Red Lion, Peleliu.

The sounds of “Scottish Fantasy” are replaced with the sound of “Taps” as, one by one, the four men stand at the foot of the bed and look the woman in the eye and walk off stage right.

“Benghazi.”

“Benghazi.”

“Benghazi.”

“Benghazi.”

The sound of “Taps” continues to be heard as the woman is alone in her bed. The lights dim, and the only light on the stage is a dim spotlight directly over the bed. The woman looks at the audience, for the first time, with her expression being one of shame and embarrassment. While the sound of “Taps” is played, we hear the sounds of rifles and grenades blasting, just as in Act II. The woman is looking left, then right, frantic. She puts her hands over her ears as the curtain is lowered.

FINI

OPOVV

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