Disputable Cause

Dr. Jalen Rausch is in a concentration-camp style prison in near-future America. Although he claims to be innocent, he is said to be a "hater". Can he stop himself from becoming just that?

Feel free to interpret this story as you wish. Some readers understand immediately why Dr. Rausch is in jail, others find the futuristic legal reasoning obscurantic. I think that readers tend to take from the script different meanings based on the attitudes and beliefs they bring to it, which is one intention of Art, to provide a reflection of the world.

WARNING: This script contains some mild obscenities and adult themes.

DISPUTABLE CAUSE by Kyle Patrick Johnson Represented by: Canton Literary Management (CLM) Contact: Eric Canton (866) 429-3118 ECanton@Prodigy.net www.CantonLiteraryManagement.com 2. FADE IN: INT. HOSPITAL - EXAMINING ROOM - NIGHT JALEN RAUSCH (50), dark-haired, in a white physician’s coat, rifles through drawers at breakneck speed, looking, looking for... what? Doesn’t look up, doesn’t stop when he hears... VOICE (O.S.) You weren’t a killer, you said. any age, you said. At JALEN The law’s the law. God! It’s not here! Where could it be? Jalen continues ransacking the drawers as a wall pendulum clock rings out twelve times. As the last chime dies away, Jalen turns toward the Voice with an ashen face. VOICE (O.S.) That’s the deadline. The sound of dread clacking footsteps on tile. INT. ADMINISTRATION BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY (TWO YEARS LATER) Two manly black shined boots stride briskly over the tile. The lobby is bright with fluorescent bulbs, an artificial aura around the windowless space. The feet belong to COMMANDANT (40), distinguished, erect, unforgiving features, carries an attache case. Approaches... GUARD (25), well-armed, stands in front of a door which reads “Commandant”. Guard stiffens, steps aside, salutes smartly. GUARD Welcome back. Congratulations, sir. My best to Mrs. Jenny, sir. Commandant nods curtly. COMMANDANT’S OFFICE Commandant closes the door. Walks over to a steel desk, sits at a chrome chair. A wall calendar displays “January, 2026”. Sets the attache case on his desk, opens it, takes out a framed wedding photo of himself and his bride. Puts it in a silver frame, places it on his desk, gazes at it. Fingers a platinum wedding ring on his left hand. He opens the door, steps into... 3. Hears a commotion in the lobby, gets curious. door, opens it, looks out to see... LOBBY Goes to the Guard wrestles, violently shoves Jalen Rausch away from Commandant’s office. Prematurely gray, Jalen wears drab overalls with “STARB” stenciled across the front, “1313” handpainted below it. JALEN I’ve got to see him, let me in. Oh! Oh, Commandant! Sir, please! Commandant nods condescendingly. Guard drops Jalen roughly. COMMANDANT’S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER Commandant snatches the wedding photo, throws it into a desk drawer on top of papers and a thin clear plastic cylinder. Unaware, bowed, Jalen stands by the door. Commandant sits. JALEN I’m not guilty, sir. I know the juries said so, but I’m not. You know, Rob... uh, I mean, sir. COMMANDANT What do you expect me to do? JALEN Tony said I’m allowed a second appeal as long as it’s without a lawyer. I need the paperwork done. COMMANDANT Well, yes, that’s the law for misdemeanors but you’re in for hate crime. I... Just accept it, Jalen. JALEN I can’t. My wife... she doesn’t know where I am. You know how it is these days... I’m not a hater. Commandant purses his lips, thinks, relenting... COMMANDANT For old time’s sake, then, Jalen. Here’s something I just heard from the Governor last week: to overturn a hate crime appeal you’re going to need a Writ of Disputable Cause under the 2025 Imprisonment Act. Decides. 4. COMMANDANT (CONT'D) Don’t tell anyone I told you. Right? Now go. Go. Jalen’s tear-filled eyes light up. He silently scurries out. EXT. STARB PRISON - FRONT GATE - DAY A barbed-wire fence. The heavy wrought-iron gate displays: “Salvation Through Alternative Resources of Bioenergy”. Beyond the gate, Jalen scuffles to a long, low gray steel building labelled “Labor”. Guard #2 stands alert at the door, gives a vicious kick as Jalen humbly enters. INT. LABOR BUILDING - CONTINUOUS Jalen stumbles, falls painfully. Climbs to his feet, sees... Orderly rows of numbered exercise bikes, thousands, each pedaled by a thin exhausted inmate wearing identical “STARB” overalls with hand-painted numbers. Blank, exhausted faces. Jalen hobbles towards Bike #1313. Accosted by GUARD #3. GUARD #3 Doctor Rausch, have a good meeting? JALEN Thank you, thank you, thank you. Guard #3 winks at Jalen, a silent “You’re welcome, buddy”. Jalen passes him a handful of cigarettes, a small bribe. Jalen climbs onto his bike, starts cranking the pedals painfully. A small meter below him counts his pedal strokes in red numbers, a large board above shows all inmates’ stroke total: “42,588,222” and climbing; daily goal: “100,000,000”. Next to Jalen: TONY (60), skin and bones and mouth, “1312” on his clothes, pedals ploddingly. Tony chats comfortably, as though this day is as monotonous as usual. TONY Lab-rat! Back to the godawful disSTARB-ing power plant? Better than oil. Learn anything? JALEN Yeah, Lawyer-rat. Rob said I need a Writ of Disputable Cause. Tony looks startled, almost stops pedaling. But he doesn’t. 5. TONY That’s insane. It’s new and I guess it’d work, but I never told you since you have to have physical evidence from the crime scene. Cho vs. Oregon, 2024. And they won’t let a hater waltz around out there. Jalen grits his teeth. Thinks. Pedals. JALEN No one at the hospital even knows I’m here ’cause of the Secrecy Act. TONY Look, Jalen, bud, he gave you an impossible task to watch you twist in the wind. What a crapper he is since his promotion, huh? Jalen and Tony aren’t listening to each other. JALEN I’m gonna break out, Tony. TONY Remember when we all used to go out for beers and bowling? Leave the wives at home, have fun, man-time? (sudden realization) No way. Break out? Add a felony? Think! You got any more evidence? Jalen thinks, thinks, thinks, desperate... He remembers! Guard #2 materializes behind Jalen, bashes him on the head. INT. COMMANDANT’S OFFICE - EVENING Jalen, head bleeding, wakes up on the floor. Commandant stands over him, looks down, disgusted, arrogant. COMMANDANT You do know your clothes are bugged? I said to tell no one. JALEN You know I’ve got evidence, Rob. There was a cannula I never used, I bought it on deadline day, engraved my name on it like I do with all my instruments, but it wasn’t there when we searched my office. 6. COMMANDANT Sure, you’re innocent. Of course you are. Listen, we both know you’re a woman-hater, Jalen. Commandant turns on his heel, goes to sit at his desk. JALEN You know what the cannula is, Rob, right? The plastic tube that sucks out the parts from inside? After the baby’s cut up? I don’t hate women, I’m not a hater! I’d give my soul to do one, I wanna. That’s why I bought the damn thing. Just let me out, for my wife’s sake! Cannula? COMMANDANT Is that what this is? Commandant opens the drawer. Pulls out the thin plastic cylinder, hand-engraved “Jalen Rausch”. Holds it up. Jalen gasps, snarls, full realization of the set-up sinks in. JALEN You, oh my God, you knew all along. COMMANDANT You’re not a killer, you said. At any age, you said. Not a hater, you said. Don’t hate me now. Jalen’s hands become fists. His eyes ask a silent “WHY?” Commandant pulls out the wedding picture, displays it prominently on the desk. Adjusts it mockingly. Jalen’s eyes widen in horror as he looks at the picture. Jenny... JALEN COMMANDANT You should be happy for her. I mean, really, Jalen, who could love a hater? Jalen, stock still, now transformed, monstrously hate-filled. Jalen approaches slowly, menacingly. A twisted face. A raised arm. SMASH TO BLACK.