As a film director there so much I learn in my sleep about just getting to the heart of a story with no preamble. In an amazing dream last night I found myself mid-inaugural address as the new president of the United States!
Relax, I have no intention of running for president. This was a healing dream. My soul looked past today’s anger-fest president in a totally dismissive fashion. It was fantastic to see the excitement and hope on the faces of the crowd as I spoke,
My fellow Americans, I have some big shoes to fill as your new leader. Those big shoes belong to none other of President Barrack Obama.
The job of rebuilding our relationships with fellow democracies and allies starts now. Today, as my first act as President, all tariffs are lifted.
At this very moment my transition team is preparing new legislation to convert all coal burning power to solar and to transition the auto industry fully to electric cars production by 2030.
The dream was so exciting it woke me. But as lucid dreamer I closed my eyes and reentered the dream and used it to set intentions in the conscious field to reunify Americans divided by rampant racism, a sea of lies and to make reparations to the Native Americans.
Analyzing this dream I see it’s the work of my spirit guide Abraham Lincoln, not to lose faith in my values so badly under attack by Trump. Nice work, Abe.
May this powerful dream of renewed hope and change aid the healing of America. Aho!
This saddest Father’s Day ever, President Trump seeks to shift blame to Democrats for the horrific separation of Mexican children from their families even though his GOP controls both the House and Senate. I’ve channeled my outrage into this fictional short screenplay to help convey the pain of these poor innocents.
FATHER’S DAY AND THE WALL OF SORROW
By Ken Sheetz
INT. PANEL TRUCK (MOVING) – DAY
TINA MUNOZ, 4 years old, cries deeply into a tattered baby blanket. Her wailing is nearly drowned out by the dozen other MEXICAN CHILDREN.
BETTY, 30s, an overweight American social worker with a kind face, places her pudgy hands over her ears to try to block out the overwhelming grief that fills the panel truck’s interior. Curly Red hair matted to her head, Betty picks up her cell phone and shouts to be heard over the din of the agonized kids.
Gods mercy! Still no AC back here! Isn’t it bad enough we ripped these babies from their family on Father’s day of all days?
Betty does her best to listen to the DRIVER, a middle aged Texan, on the phone.
DRIVER (VO/ Voice over)
Ma’am, I swear to God AGAIN there ain’t nothin’ we can do.
Pull into a gas station and get this AC fixed! It must be 120 degrees back here!
Sorry. I ain’t authorized to make no kinda stops.
Do you want dead children on you hands, Mister… what’s your name?
Mister none of your damn business! What’s broke is broke! Now, with all due respect, Betty, do your God damn job and I’ll do mine. Get them little brats shut up!
Driver hangs up on Betty. In despair, she looks around at the 13 wailing children and chooses one, Tina, to take into a consoling hug.
BETTY (In Spanish)
I’m so sorry, little one. Can you tell me your name?
Tina welcomes the embrace of Betty.
TINA (In English)
I am Tina. Tina Munoz. What’s your name, nice lady?
Betty! You speak English so well little one!
Mama teached me ’cause we go to America; land of the free.
Betty’s sad expression shows Tina’s words have cracked in her professional demeanor. At a loss for words, Betty strokes Tina’s sweaty hair.
When do I see Mama and Papa again?
I could lie, child, and tell you “soon”. But I want to prepare you for the sad fact I don’t —
A 5 year old boy with a bowl haircut, ROBERTO, faints to the panel truck’s floor. Tina dives to his side.
Roberto! He’s my brother!
Roberto’s eyes flutter back into his head as he goes into a racking seizure.
Betty’s fingers tremble as she dials the cell phone to reach the driver, who silently answers.
(being as sweet as possible)
Driver? Hi. I am so sorry if I sounded cross before. I don’t blame you for all this. But we’ve got a serious problem on our hands. A little boy, no more than four or five, is having heat stroke convulsions. If we don’t get him fresh air and hydration soon — Hello?
Betty curses under her breath as the driver cuts off the call.
As the panel truck pulls to a red light Betty eyes the side door latch.
Betty punches in her key code access and pulls open the panel truck’s side door. A heavenly breeze passes through the panel truck. Roberto gasps in fresh air, calming instantly.
An 11 year-old Mexican boy darts out the door and, quick as a deer, vanishes into the hedges.
Before anymore children can escape an angry Boarder Patrol AGENT, Mexican/American, 30s, appears at the door, brandishing a submachine gun, impending violence on his face.
AGENT (In Spanish)
All of you! Sit the fuck down!
Agent slams the panel truck door shut in Betty’s face before she can utter a word.
EXT. ARMY BASE GATES – DAY
Betty wipes tears mixed with sweat as the Mexican children, clothes soaked to their beautiful brown skin, hop from the panel truck.
Last off, Roberto leans on Tina. They slowly make their way from the panel truck, the little duo scurry to Betty and burry their faces in her soft but sweat soaked dress.
Agent spins angrily on Betty.
I only count twelve!
BETTY (trying not to sound proud)
One got away.
You shoulda told me, bitch!
I tried to before you slammed the door in my face, you disgusting traitor to you own people!
Agent slightly hangs his head slightly, properly shame.
Driver appears and blows a hocker on the ground in disgust at Betty’s feet.
God damned liberals. You got no part in God’s work.
I’ll have you know I am an ordained minister, you Trump loving boob!
Driver lunges for Betty. Tina and Roberto scream.
But Agent restrains Driver in the nick of time.
Cool your jets, amigo. She’ll get hers when they find out she let one of the illegals escape.
Driver spits at Betty again, this time in her face, and hops back in his panel truck.
Ha! Got me another load of wetback brats to pick up anyways!
That’s right. Help Trump build his wall off sorrow!
Flummoxed beyond words, Driver races off the panel truck in a cloud of dust.
WOMAN WITH PURPLE PLASTIC GLOVES, Black, 20s, kindly gestures to Betty to allow her take Tina and Robert through the Army Base gates.
Betty ignores her and turns warily to Agent.
Can I please come with them? Get them settled in?
Agent grimly shakes his head “no” and motions to the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves to get to it. She manages to send Betty a sympathetic look as she pries the weaker Roberto looses of Betty.
Tina gives Betty a last hug and dejectedly follows her big brother, the only family member she has left in the world, through the army base gates accompanied by the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves and the Agent, doing his best not to show his self hatred.
Betty sobs into her pudgy hands as she watches the kids vanish into the Army camp.
Passing wall she spots a plaque on commemorating the internment of the Japanese in World War II, Betty falls to her knees, her sorrow watering the desert.
BETTY (sobbing at the plaque)
Happy Father’s day…
What’s happening today, tearing children literally from the arms of parents illegally entering America, is worse than our cruelty to the Japanese Americans of WWII. Then, at least, Japanese families suffered together.
Please share our fictional account of the horrors being inflicted on these all to real innocent Mexican children, bound to be scarred for life. Only by touching people’s hearts can this American tragedy end.
And if you’d like to contribute a little something to producing this as short film please send your donation to PayPal.