The Statement of [inline-graphic 01], Revised

Abstract

The Statement of [inline-graphic 01], Revised Sean Gill (bio) Hello, . I hope this message finds you well. I want to preface my comments by saying that I only want to help you with the Court, and if any of my revisions appear insensitive, they only come from a place of love. Like all my clients, I want, above all, for you to receive asylum—even if that means hurting your feelings! I know that you have been resistant to making changes to your statement because you want it to represent the whole truth. Here's a little secret: much truth out there masquerades as fiction, and many lies live on, posing as facts. I believe that, often, a person sees or experiences something true and they want to share it, but they are ashamed. They don't want other people to know their peccadillos or their innermost thoughts. They call it fiction. It's safer that way. Conversely, in memoir (or in a situation like this, a legal statement), where the self is a character, there is a vested interest in burnishing the rougher edges with half-truths and convenient inventions. That's perfectly fine—everybody does it! In the era of image control, self-awareness is not a virtue. You must never admit you are wrong or less than perfect. In this instance, you must be the "perfect victim." Your life may depend on it. With this in mind, I think that improving your statement to match audience expectations is the smartest move. We are playing to flesh-and-blood men, not Angels of History. Americans these days—even judges!—are weaned on screen stories. They've been conditioned with certain prejudices against those who defy the three-part structure. You'll see what I mean in my notes. I was a screenwriter for a time, and you know my bona fides. Without further ado… [End Page 49] THE STATEMENT OF CASE NO. 147382-H I was once a railway engineer. I thought I could use my position to leave the city before the siege began. I used to have a family, but now I am alone. In January of this year, I was arrested and denounced because of my knowledge of local infrastructure. It was said that someone witnessed me photographing the underbelly of a road-rail bridge, the only one of these structures in my country. Truthfully, I may have been photographing the sunset, as this is one of my hobbies. I answered the front door one week later as my two children were preparing for school. The secret police forced a sack over my head and bound my wrists with copper wire. After three hours of waiting, blind, in the back of a van, I was informed that I was under arrest for conspiracy to commit an act of terror against the road-rail bridge. (My wife took video footage of my arrest and uploaded it to the internet. This has been included as evidence in my supporting material.) I explained that this was a misunderstanding, and that if I were actually photographing at all, it was likely I was photographing the sunset. I gave them the code to unlock my phone, so that they could see my gallery of sunsets. I did not hear anything more about my phone or these photographs. I was instructed at this point to confess. During this period, which may have lasted as long as forty-eight hours, I drifted in and out of consciousness, the hood never removed from my head, nor the wire unspooled from my wrists. Every few hours I was allowed a sip of water through a straw they fed through a hole in the hood. The water was warm and tasted of sulfur, of rotten eggs. I could only take solace in the idea that they did not seem to be [End Page 50] poisoning me. This is really good, and it's a shame because no one is going to read this far. PUT IT AT THE BEGINNING. Remember the lesson from my essay "So You Want to Write a High-Speed Screenplay That Sells?" You've got to commit to grabbing the...