American Violence Page #2

- Jackson Michael shea.

- Inmate 78011.

- There's a point to

all this, right doc?

Seeing as how the

sand of my hourglass

has just about run out.

I don't see this

benefiting me very much.

- My plan is to get

to the root cause

of your excessive violence.

- You mean the newspaper

and magazine stories

calling me a monster.

- I've read your file.

- And what?

You've read some papers.

Some file a prison hack too

stupid to make it on the outside

wrote about me after he

showed me some inkblots.

You read that sh*t and

think you're inside my head?

Doc, you don't know a

f***ing thing about me.

- You're right, Jack.

I don't know a f***ing

thing about you.

And if I did, I wouldn't be

here wasting my time, or yours.

Would you like me to leave?

- Tick, tock.

Tick, tock, tick, tick.

So what's a pretty little

thing like you doing here?

You draw the short straw?

- It's about the violence, Jack.

If I can pinpoint the

time, the place, the cause,

then maybe I can at least

help stop the cycle.

Now we have some very important

decisions to make, don't we?

Let's start...

- with my mother's tit milk.

Did I get enough as an infant

to properly nourish me for

life in civilized society?

- Did you?

- Tick.

Doc, you ready to hear a story?

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

It was the summer of '85.

We had no money, so we had to

move into my uncle

Mike's single wide.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes,

I can still smell

that musty trailer.

- Bigger bears try to pretend

that they came 'round the

corner to look for a friend.

That they came 'round the

corner to look for a frown.

- Hold on.

- And they try to

pretend that nobody cares.

Whether you walk on the

lines, or on the squares.

- Phone for you, Cynthia.

- Thanks, Mike.

Okay, well, your uncle Mike's

gonna help you finish

reading, okay book?

- Good night, mommy.

- Hey buddy.

- Hey, hey uncle Mike.

- Ready for your

birthday bedtime story?

- People always talk about god.

Where was god when my uncle

was sneaking into my

bedroom late at night,

telling me bedroom stories,

I didn't wanna hear.

- Everything is gonna

be okay, my son.

You are in the presence

of the lord now.

Tell me what happened.

- How did your

mother react to the news?

- Not the way you'd think.

- Mrs. shea, I'm,

I really wish I were here

under different circumstances,

I'm sorry.

It involves your

brother and your son.

- Well what is it?

- Has, has your son been

acting different lately?

Anything strange

about his behavior?

- My, my, my son is a good boy.

- Yes he is.

I don't know how to say

this, so I'll just say it.

We believe that your brother

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