smuggled
Many of us are familiar with how eager state officials appear when carrying out their punitive duties. This is especially true with the death penalty. It comes as no surprise Arizona and Texas were caught trying to “illegally import” an execution drug. Sodium thiopental is a banned substance with no legally valid use in America, but some bureaucrats in the Arizona state government were willing to break the law to continue exterminating American citizens. One has to wonder how this scenario occurred since investigation of the matter is unlikely to be made public . . . .
Scene i
Two different offices divide the stage: to the left a well-appointed office with U.S. and Arizona state flags hanging behind a large desk, cluttered and without other adornments. A woman sits typing on the computer when the phone rings.
Bortle: (picks up the phone) Rx Pharmaceuticals, Ramona Bortle speaking.
Bureaucrat: It’s me again. I need more sodium thiopental.
Bortle: (sighs) Why not try another drug? A morphine overdose or something?
Bureaucrat: It has to be sodium thiopental. We’ll pay what you ask.
Bortle: Why? It’s illegal in the U.S. Why risk it when you can switch to a drug like they use in Oklahoma. I can give you the number of a compounding company in New Hampshire. They’re pretty cheap.
Bureaucrat: No. My boss wants what she wants. We’re willing to pay triple, or whatever.
Bortle: Look. I’m under pressure not to supply you with any drug to be used in executions. My boss –
Bureaucrat: Fine. Triple and consideration on all future medical supply contracts in Arizona.
Bortle: It’s not that we don’t want to. Your offer is more generous than Ohio’s, but if we’re discovered there will be people who try to shut us down. Influential people who can put me out of work for aiding your executions.
Bureaucrat: We don’t have anything to do with that. There’s a way to ship it without any trouble.
Bortle: Let’s hear it.
Bureaucrat: Not over the phone. Give me a time and address and we’ll meet.
Bortle: You’re across the Atlantic, just tell me. No need for all this cloak and dagger stuff.
Bureaucrat: (beat) Fine. I have a network that will bring it in from Mexico.
Bortle: Ha! That’s rich. You bloody Yanks are too much. Give me the address.
Bureaucrat: Are you listening? It’s . . . .
Scene ii
Another office somewhere in the UK. This one is full of tech and two technicians sitting in front of monitors.
Tech 1: Wow. Did you hear all of that?
Tech 2: Yeah, Blake’s right desperate.
Tech 1: I don’t get these people.
Tech 2: Bloody American politics.
Tech 1: Now what?
Tech 2: We send this to Herrington and let him know it’s coming in hot so he best move quickly. I gather he’ll let the FDA know or some such.
Tech 1: It really begs the question, doesn’t it?
Tech 2: How’s that?
Tech 1: Why not use a firing squad or rope like normal third worlders? Or if they need to be inventive – take a page from the bloody Kraut’s history book.
Tech 2: You’ve got to remember the Yank’s misguided sense of self-righteousness. They think to reinvent political control, but they’re a bloody lot of hypocrites. Dress a corpse in a suit and it’s still rotting meat. Kill a man in cold blood and it’s murder, no two ways about it. Stick a needle in him and call it civilized justice—well, that’s simply willful ignorance.
Scene iii
Back in the well-appointed office with the state official and some politician.
Bureaucrat: We’re set to receive two thousand applications, with Texas ready to buy half of it at double the rate we’ve paid.
Politician: Excellent. It’s time to show America that Arizona isn’t soft on crime. This will guarantee we get that federal grant money too, especially when no other state seems capable of performing any execution. When will the shipment arrive?
Bureaucrat: Three days.
Politician: How?
Bureaucrat: It’s genius, really.
Politician: Just tell me.
Bureaucrat: Remember the trip to Costa Rica?
Politician: Remember? How could I forget Anita and all of the things she was willing to do for such a paltry sum? I plan on seeing her next month after the legislative session ends.
Bureaucrat: While you were busy with Anita I made contact with some men who could be useful in the future. They’re accustomed to handling imports in the states without asking too many questions.
Politician: Out with it.
Bureaucrat: They’ve got people on the wharves in San Diego who will receive the shipment of sodium thiopental and blend it in with a shipment of insulin so it looks like a legitimate load. I’ve got some guys who will pick up the drug and deliver it to a storage unit where we can sort with the D.O.C.
Politician: (forceful) Tell me these people are not members of any cartel.
Bureaucrat: (beat) You told me to get the stuff, and I have. They don’t know who I am or what we’re shipping. I only need to confirm delivery to the storage unit.
Politician: Praise Jesus for small favors. The last thing I need is a scandal involving an execution drug and some illegal immigrants connected to El Chapo.
Bureaucrat: Everything will be fine, sir.
Politician: You bet your career it better be.
Scene iv
Inside a warehouse. Three men stand next to a pallet of cardboard boxes; one looks bored while the other two squabble over it.
Julio: Man, I’m tellin’ you everything’s cool. This is insulin. The manifest says fifty boxes. They’re all there. What’s the problem?
Mr. Aennis: The problem is some of the serial numbers are different, so I need you to take them off the pallet.
Julio: Man are you for real? You know this ain’t in my labor agreement. The union gonna hear about this.
Mr. Aennis: You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s not a marathon, it’s one lousy pallet of boxes. Just take them off for a few minutes then put them back. It’s four boxes.
Julio: Four boxes at the bottom. Four boxes that got nothing to do with my job and that’s unloading pallets from containers and checking them against the manifest.
Mr. Aennis: (to the bored looking man) I’m sorry Mr. Hascomb, a minor dispute.
Julio: If it’s so minor, you unload the damn things (begins walking off)
Mr. Aennis: Wait. There’s no need for this. (pulls some money out of his pocket) Here, an hour’s wages for a ten-minute job. You can’t beat that.
Julio: Are you trying to bribe me gringo? If I hurt my back doing this it ain’t gonna be covered because it’s not my job. You think I’m stupid?
Mr. Aennis: (visibly angry) What the hell’s wrong with you? I’m asking you to help me!
Julio: Not my problem, man (exits)
Mr. Aennis: (looks at Mr. Hascomb, who shrugs) No help from you either?
Hascomb: I’m following up on a tip, nothing more.
Mr. Aennis: Fan-freakin-tastic. (cuts plastic from the pallet then lifts and sets heavy boxes on the ground) This will only take a few minutes. What will you do if this is the stuff you’re looking for?
Hascomb: I’ll let you know when we reach that point (hands on hips, he watches Aennis move and stack boxes for a while)
Mr. Aennis: Wonderful. If my wife knew I was doing this heavy lifting she’d pitch a fit. (panting and tired). That’s about all she knows how to do, that and text her friends. Here they are (sets a box identical to the others on a stack and opens it) The bottles have different labels. My niece uses insulin, I know it doesn’t look like this.
Hascomb: (steps over and holds up a small bottle, inspecting the label) Indeed.
Mr. Aennis: What is it?
Hascomb: Sodium Thiopental. A banned substance. I’m seizing this pallet and its contents. I’ll need the original manifest and your copy, as well as the route number, shipping container serial number.
Mr. Aennis: What’s the big deal? What is this stuff?
Hascomb: It’s a drug many states use in executions, but drug companies in the U.S. stopped producing the paralytic because it no longer has medically valid application. It’s used to make the condemned motionless, and to stop the heart. The dosage is just weak enough to keep them alive so when the potassium chloride hits it feels like they’re burning alive.
Mr. Aennis: (shaken) I-I thought they put them to sleep or something.
Hascomb: (grim smile) The anesthetic isn’t for the condemned – it’s for the public. To protect their delicate sensibilities. Ever since my bosses at the FDA banned sodium thiopental there have been more “botched” executions. They’re just showing exactly what the lethal injection was intended to be.
Mr. Aennis: (wide-eyed) What’s that?
Hascomb: A diabolical way to kill criminals and make them suffer. Think about it. How long is a minute when you’re dying? Fifteen or twenty minutes? How about an hour?
Mr. Aennis: Jesus.
Hascomb: State governments have scrambled to find alternatives for sodium thiopental, but a few are going to extremes like smuggling.
Mr. Aennis: (stares at the bottles) There has to be a better way.
Hascomb: (laughs) You’re missing the point. The lethal injection may seem a better way to kill, but it hides an ugly truth: this is their chance to twist the knife. If it wasn’t, a firing squad is more “civilized”.
Mr. Aennis: I need a drink.
Hascomb: Later. There’s work to be done.
The End. . . .
Scene i
Two different offices divide the stage: to the left a well-appointed office with U.S. and Arizona state flags hanging behind a large desk, cluttered and without other adornments. A woman sits typing on the computer when the phone rings.
Bortle: (picks up the phone) Rx Pharmaceuticals, Ramona Bortle speaking.
Bureaucrat: It’s me again. I need more sodium thiopental.
Bortle: (sighs) Why not try another drug? A morphine overdose or something?
Bureaucrat: It has to be sodium thiopental. We’ll pay what you ask.
Bortle: Why? It’s illegal in the U.S. Why risk it when you can switch to a drug like they use in Oklahoma. I can give you the number of a compounding company in New Hampshire. They’re pretty cheap.
Bureaucrat: No. My boss wants what she wants. We’re willing to pay triple, or whatever.
Bortle: Look. I’m under pressure not to supply you with any drug to be used in executions. My boss –
Bureaucrat: Fine. Triple and consideration on all future medical supply contracts in Arizona.
Bortle: It’s not that we don’t want to. Your offer is more generous than Ohio’s, but if we’re discovered there will be people who try to shut us down. Influential people who can put me out of work for aiding your executions.
Bureaucrat: We don’t have anything to do with that. There’s a way to ship it without any trouble.
Bortle: Let’s hear it.
Bureaucrat: Not over the phone. Give me a time and address and we’ll meet.
Bortle: You’re across the Atlantic, just tell me. No need for all this cloak and dagger stuff.
Bureaucrat: (beat) Fine. I have a network that will bring it in from Mexico.
Bortle: Ha! That’s rich. You bloody Yanks are too much. Give me the address.
Bureaucrat: Are you listening? It’s . . . .
Scene ii
Another office somewhere in the UK. This one is full of tech and two technicians sitting in front of monitors.
Tech 1: Wow. Did you hear all of that?
Tech 2: Yeah, Blake’s right desperate.
Tech 1: I don’t get these people.
Tech 2: Bloody American politics.
Tech 1: Now what?
Tech 2: We send this to Herrington and let him know it’s coming in hot so he best move quickly. I gather he’ll let the FDA know or some such.
Tech 1: It really begs the question, doesn’t it?
Tech 2: How’s that?
Tech 1: Why not use a firing squad or rope like normal third worlders? Or if they need to be inventive – take a page from the bloody Kraut’s history book.
Tech 2: You’ve got to remember the Yank’s misguided sense of self-righteousness. They think to reinvent political control, but they’re a bloody lot of hypocrites. Dress a corpse in a suit and it’s still rotting meat. Kill a man in cold blood and it’s murder, no two ways about it. Stick a needle in him and call it civilized justice—well, that’s simply willful ignorance.
Scene iii
Back in the well-appointed office with the state official and some politician.
Bureaucrat: We’re set to receive two thousand applications, with Texas ready to buy half of it at double the rate we’ve paid.
Politician: Excellent. It’s time to show America that Arizona isn’t soft on crime. This will guarantee we get that federal grant money too, especially when no other state seems capable of performing any execution. When will the shipment arrive?
Bureaucrat: Three days.
Politician: How?
Bureaucrat: It’s genius, really.
Politician: Just tell me.
Bureaucrat: Remember the trip to Costa Rica?
Politician: Remember? How could I forget Anita and all of the things she was willing to do for such a paltry sum? I plan on seeing her next month after the legislative session ends.
Bureaucrat: While you were busy with Anita I made contact with some men who could be useful in the future. They’re accustomed to handling imports in the states without asking too many questions.
Politician: Out with it.
Bureaucrat: They’ve got people on the wharves in San Diego who will receive the shipment of sodium thiopental and blend it in with a shipment of insulin so it looks like a legitimate load. I’ve got some guys who will pick up the drug and deliver it to a storage unit where we can sort with the D.O.C.
Politician: (forceful) Tell me these people are not members of any cartel.
Bureaucrat: (beat) You told me to get the stuff, and I have. They don’t know who I am or what we’re shipping. I only need to confirm delivery to the storage unit.
Politician: Praise Jesus for small favors. The last thing I need is a scandal involving an execution drug and some illegal immigrants connected to El Chapo.
Bureaucrat: Everything will be fine, sir.
Politician: You bet your career it better be.
Scene iv
Inside a warehouse. Three men stand next to a pallet of cardboard boxes; one looks bored while the other two squabble over it.
Julio: Man, I’m tellin’ you everything’s cool. This is insulin. The manifest says fifty boxes. They’re all there. What’s the problem?
Mr. Aennis: The problem is some of the serial numbers are different, so I need you to take them off the pallet.
Julio: Man are you for real? You know this ain’t in my labor agreement. The union gonna hear about this.
Mr. Aennis: You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s not a marathon, it’s one lousy pallet of boxes. Just take them off for a few minutes then put them back. It’s four boxes.
Julio: Four boxes at the bottom. Four boxes that got nothing to do with my job and that’s unloading pallets from containers and checking them against the manifest.
Mr. Aennis: (to the bored looking man) I’m sorry Mr. Hascomb, a minor dispute.
Julio: If it’s so minor, you unload the damn things (begins walking off)
Mr. Aennis: Wait. There’s no need for this. (pulls some money out of his pocket) Here, an hour’s wages for a ten-minute job. You can’t beat that.
Julio: Are you trying to bribe me gringo? If I hurt my back doing this it ain’t gonna be covered because it’s not my job. You think I’m stupid?
Mr. Aennis: (visibly angry) What the hell’s wrong with you? I’m asking you to help me!
Julio: Not my problem, man (exits)
Mr. Aennis: (looks at Mr. Hascomb, who shrugs) No help from you either?
Hascomb: I’m following up on a tip, nothing more.
Mr. Aennis: Fan-freakin-tastic. (cuts plastic from the pallet then lifts and sets heavy boxes on the ground) This will only take a few minutes. What will you do if this is the stuff you’re looking for?
Hascomb: I’ll let you know when we reach that point (hands on hips, he watches Aennis move and stack boxes for a while)
Mr. Aennis: Wonderful. If my wife knew I was doing this heavy lifting she’d pitch a fit. (panting and tired). That’s about all she knows how to do, that and text her friends. Here they are (sets a box identical to the others on a stack and opens it) The bottles have different labels. My niece uses insulin, I know it doesn’t look like this.
Hascomb: (steps over and holds up a small bottle, inspecting the label) Indeed.
Mr. Aennis: What is it?
Hascomb: Sodium Thiopental. A banned substance. I’m seizing this pallet and its contents. I’ll need the original manifest and your copy, as well as the route number, shipping container serial number.
Mr. Aennis: What’s the big deal? What is this stuff?
Hascomb: It’s a drug many states use in executions, but drug companies in the U.S. stopped producing the paralytic because it no longer has medically valid application. It’s used to make the condemned motionless, and to stop the heart. The dosage is just weak enough to keep them alive so when the potassium chloride hits it feels like they’re burning alive.
Mr. Aennis: (shaken) I-I thought they put them to sleep or something.
Hascomb: (grim smile) The anesthetic isn’t for the condemned – it’s for the public. To protect their delicate sensibilities. Ever since my bosses at the FDA banned sodium thiopental there have been more “botched” executions. They’re just showing exactly what the lethal injection was intended to be.
Mr. Aennis: (wide-eyed) What’s that?
Hascomb: A diabolical way to kill criminals and make them suffer. Think about it. How long is a minute when you’re dying? Fifteen or twenty minutes? How about an hour?
Mr. Aennis: Jesus.
Hascomb: State governments have scrambled to find alternatives for sodium thiopental, but a few are going to extremes like smuggling.
Mr. Aennis: (stares at the bottles) There has to be a better way.
Hascomb: (laughs) You’re missing the point. The lethal injection may seem a better way to kill, but it hides an ugly truth: this is their chance to twist the knife. If it wasn’t, a firing squad is more “civilized”.
Mr. Aennis: I need a drink.
Hascomb: Later. There’s work to be done.
The End. . . .
