Police Interview
A tense monologue set in a Police Interview Room
The latest piece on my substack is a monologue which I guess was written when I was working on my Night Air plays set in a Prisoner of War camp over the late 2000s / 2010s (This will follow on my substack page in due course) but I like the tension in it, and although I certainly don’t know any Police Inspectors, I like the tension in this piece a lot.
Police Room Monologue
(TWO CHARACTERS, AN INSPECTOR AND A WITNESS
TO A MURDER. THE INSPECTOR IS INTERVIEWING THE WITNESS ABOUT A MURDER)
Inspector (impatient):
I don't have all night.
(PAUSE. BEGINS TAPPING HIS PEN)
Inspector:
I have better things to do than sit here all night watching you stare deep into space,
(TAPS PEN)
Inspector:
This is getting beyond a joke.
(PICKS UP HIS PEN AND FOR A FEW SECONDS IT LOOKS LIKE HE IS GOING TO THROW IT AT THE SUSPECT. THE SUSPECT STARTS TO SHIVER)
Inspector:
For God's sake, just say something. I can get the PC on the front desk to make you a cup of coffee, and we can all go home and get a good night's sleep.
(NO ANSWER)
Inspector:
You like her? I’ll let you into a little secret. You ain’t alone there – a few of the lads here fancy her too, including a few from Accounts. But they’ve got no chance.
(HE LOOKS UP)
Inspector:
Thought that would get your attention. She's secretly a lesbian.
(HE LAUGHS)
Inspector:
Thought that would get your attention. It usually does, but it doesn’t hide away from the fact we simply don’t have all bloody night for you to sit there and tell us jack-shit information.
(PAUSE)
Inspector (softening slightly):
No?
(HE CHANGES TONE)
Inspector:
Then tell me for God's sake. You know me and know I have people to see, that kind of thing. I’ve got a good-looking wife at home, and I want to go home and, well... give her some attention before I go into town and talk to a few other people if you catch my drift. Just tell me for God's sake. I'm getting fed up with this conversation.
(PAUSE)
Inspector (leaning in, more intense):
I don’t think you know anything. I really think you ain’t saying anything because you don’t know anything. And you know what I don’t like? It feels like you're wasting our time, and that's no help to any of us. Do you want me to just go home and let Tommy—yeah, the really big lad standing outside—come in and have a gentle word in your ear?
(PAUSE)
Inspector (impatient again):
Come on. For God's sake. Please enlighten me and make me look at you and say, "Now, I understand," instead of wanting to ram this pen halfway down your throat if you don’t hurry up.
(TAPS FINGERS IMPATIENTLY ON THE TABLE)
Inspector:
You see, time isn't something we've got in abundance here. This room, these questions, they're not a courtesy. We're not here for pleasantries and small talk. No, we're here for one reason, and one reason alone: to get answers.
(SUSPECT SHIFTS UNCOMFORTABLE, AVOIDING EYE CONTRACT)
Inspector:
Now, your little charade, this dance you're doing, it's not going to cut it. I've seen it all—people squirming in these chairs, trying to hide behind lies and deceit. But you, my friend, you're not going to get away with it. Not on my watch.
(PAUSES, INTENSIFYING HIS STARE)
Inspector:
You think you can play games with me? You think you can outwit a seasoned inspector? Well, let me tell you something. I've seen criminals, masterminds, and manipulators. But in the end, they all crack.
(TAKES A DEEP BREATH, LEANING EVEN CLOSER)
Inspector:
You see, I've got a sixth sense for this. Call it intuition, call it experience, but it's never steered me wrong. I can see it in your eyes, the way you fidget, the way your voice trembles ever so slightly. You're holding something back, something big.
(PAUSES, THEN RETURNS TO A SOFTER TONE)
Inspector:
So, let's stop wasting every others time. You can either spill the beans now, tell me what you know, and maybe, just maybe, there's a sliver of a chance you can salvage what's left of your future. Or you can keep playing this little game, but I guarantee you, it won't end well.
(SUSPECT HESITATES, VISIBLY CONFLICTED)
Inspector:
The clock is ticking, my friend. The choice is yours. I've got cases to close, justice to serve, arses to kick all over the fucking pavement and I can’t let anyone stand in my way. You know that by now surely to god by now. So, what's it going to be?
(SUSPECT FINALLY BREAKS AND OPENS HIS MOUTH)
Inspector:
That's more like it. Now, let's get to the bottom of this, shall we?
(HE LIGHTS UP A CIGARETTE)
(FADE TO BLACK)