Screenplay By Phillip Ghee (USA)
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Mis-ter Jean De-Bap- tist (he draws out each syllable) or maybe I should address you as detective? (no answer)
Jared tells me that you have something that belongs to me. (DeBaptise raises his hands in such a fashion as to indicate “frisk me.) Jared walks over to the table and spies the returned dagger. He nods towards the professor.
Let’s not play games detective, my patience is about as short as my time for foolishness. No why don’t you go and fetch it for me. Steady now, no fast moves, as they say in your profession.
[The professor uses the gun like a pointer to wave DeBaptise over to the table. DeBaptise retrieves the dagger. The professor motions back over to well lighted center of the room. He commands DeBaptise to place the dagger on the floor. He then motions the Detective down on his knees and has him place his hands behind his back. He summons Jared and instructs him to find rope or something to bind the Detective’s hands. Once secured the professor advances and removes the detective’s weapon. While standing over the detective he notices that his rain drenched collar has drooped thus reveling his initiation scar. The professor then has Jared bring him a chair. He sits before the binder DeBaptise, toying with his foot, the dagger resting on the floor between the two men. Jared remains standing to the side of the men, a blank expression on his face.
Perhaps we can have our little Voodoo chat now? You know the dagger you are so fond of (he hesitates and toys with the dagger so more) is a ceremonial weapon don’t you?
No. Has it or should I say, the missing pair been used in any ceremonies lately?
More games, huh detective, I must admit though, you are very observant. I am no detective but I have my bouts of observations and insight too!
(he instructs Jared to retrieve for him one of the Dogon spears. Jared blank expression now turns to one of anxiety, as he hands the spear over to the Professor.)
As I told doing our first meeting, I haven’t yet made it over to that cesspool of Paganism and despair you call an island. (he toys with the spear, running up and down the length of the detective’s torso). And I don’t know much about
the various Voodoo clans you have over there but… he brings the spear up to the detectives neck and uses it to move down the already drooping collar) but, I do know the Devils mark when I see it, no matter what variation a particular culture may give it.
Like parents, one seldom has the choice, to decide on what is brought to him at an early age.
Save it for the psychiatrist DeBaptise. Evil is as evil does. And you know evil very well you were born into it. A leopard can’t change it spots DeBaptise, even inside the sturdy cages of a zoo, it is still a leopard and will at the slightest provocation or opportunity kill it’s zoo keeper.
You think all these artifacts are solely for sport, a hobby, some form of..
(The professor’s demeanor begins a process of transforming from the intellectual to the fundamentalist)
entertainment value for the idle rich? No! Damn you, I know evil, I track it down. I categorized it, I document it. You see there is a battle going on. The sons of light and the sons of darkness is not just some ramblings on forgotten Dead Sea Scrolls. The battle is on. The battle is now. (he
runs the razor sharp spear blade just enough over the scared DeBaptise to draw a faint line of blood. Jared turns away but a sharp glance from the Professor brings him back to focus).
(Interrupting the professors triad)
So you appoint yourself, the expert on evil. What is killing Professor, taking human life? Is that evil?
(practically, ignoring the detective)
Our God kills, all the time, you should have really read the bible.
(he goes back into his lecture of sorts)
You know the Dogon were a fascinating people. They plotted the course and trajectory of star systems centuries before Western science even knew of the existence of such systems. Now whether their quests for superlative knowledge lead them to the black arts or vice-versa is not known. What is known is, that unlike other cultures lead astray by the Devil and his works, The Dogon excelled at what they learned. They did a little more than just ape the trapping of magic, they went a little further than say, the Egyptians, materializing serpents in front of Moses or the Chaldeans with their astrology or plotting the course of star foretelling the birth of our Lord.
The Dogon reached deep into the abyss for their black arts,
they learned to raise the dead. They learned to unleash and command demons, those fallen angels of old, they are still out there, walking among us, in the guise of men or sometimes dressed as pretty, dark curly haired, Chicana.
And I guess you can tell the difference. You know Demon from man?
Oh! Little man, little servant of sin, you may have been born of the devil but you don’t know the complexity of his works.
I‘ve seen her before, I seen her in the swamps of Thailand feasting on heroin and twelve year old girls and bloated European tourist. I have tracked her through the secret orders of Priest in Portugal, shamed with virgin blood spilled on their priestly robes. I can sense her; I can smell the allure of her female musk, daughter of the Whore of Babylon.
(The professors fundamentalisms now borders on the verges of a mad man’s rant)
You’re mad, she was just a girl, precocious at most, no demon, the demons are all in you head professor. She could have grown to be many things, she could have learned a different life but you took that option away! In your demented world, he sexuality feed your lust, that’s why you killed her, isn’t it, isn’t Professor,
Stop it, stop it, (he sobs, his frame collapses somewhat) he didn’t do it. I killed her.