A Modern-Day Hamlet

Chapter 1 of My Award-Winning Retelling

Released way back in 2015, this was my first published novel, the work that not only taught me how to do this thing, but proved to myself that I indeed could. The critical acclaim has been terrific and (I say this a lot) humbling. Here are a couple of takes:

“The key pieces of Shakespeare's play are all present . . . and those fascinated by the machinations of the original play will be intrigued to learn how Mullin manipulates the plot. His positioning of the play's tragic conclusion as a headline-grabbing mass murder should hook readers from the start.
~ Publishers Weekly

“The story accosts you from the outset and keeps you hooked throughout . . . Overall, in a way that a really powerful Hamlet play performance can, Simon spoke in an urgent and direct tone to me in perhaps a way that reading the play might lack. It acts as a bridge between performance and play text powerful in its own right as a YA book, and infused with even greater urgency as it opened my eyes to the magnitude of the human crisis of Hamlet.

“Simon demonstrates the way in which the power of narrative and the power of Shakespearean drama can be harnessed and if, as Mullin manages, this power is captured, new angles and elements of the play and society may be brought to light. This is not simply an appropriation which takes storyline but one which replicates and reinvigorates characters, emotions, and circumstance, and presents them anew in comfortable suburbia where we’d least expect it.”

~ The Shakespeare Standard

This is Chapter 1 of Simon. I’ve added a few Hamlet book covers and theatrical posters just for fun. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

         The story unfolded in the media like a paper snowflake. There was can’t-look-away anticipation at every turn, and yet each reveal was not entirely unexpected. Nothing that hadn’t been seen, at least in some variation, countless times before. It all began, as stories like this often do, with reports of a 9-1-1 call.

         At 9:14 a.m., World News Network (WNN) was first to report an apparent mass murder in a Bathton, Massachusetts home. There were five victims found, one more than the minimum number to qualify as a mass murder. Three is regarded as a “triple homicide.” Any more than three and you can, by FBI standards, justify use of the term “mass murder.” And that’s exactly what the news networks did: justify it and use it. Repeatedly.

         Because Bathton is an affluent, New England suburb, and the crime scene a multi-million dollar home, all of the networks were on the story and at the address within twenty minutes. The first image from the scene was an aerial shot from a hovering helicopter, showing the immense house’s weather-worn, shingled roof, neoclassical façade and its brown brick, semi-circle driveway. The bright yellow police tape across the front double-door alcove provided an out-of-place accent color against the lush tapestry of earth tones.         

         That aerial shot provided one of the more popular cutaways for the rest of the day. While reporters and experts waited for any new information, they speculated incessantly to fill the audio portion of the broadcast. As everyone knows, “talking heads” get boring after a short while, so the running monologues and dialogues were matched up with video footage like that shot or one of several others, including: two officers unrolling the police tape barrier, a police car and an ambulance parked outside the house, and an empty gurney being rolled in through the front door. 

         The tragedy was a test of sorts for the news anchorwoman, Liz Meyers, who wore a red blouse and silver earrings that day. She had been at the desk for only four weeks, anchoring (or what was sometimes mistakenly termed “hosting”) a three-hour daytime programming block that was rather unimaginatively titled Daytime. In order to compete with late-morning soap operas, pop psychology talk shows and reality competition reruns, network executives had decided that 9 a.m. to noon would be filled with feel-good pieces about things like soldier homecomings, school kids “paying it forward,” and heroic pets. These segments are punctuated by the anchor reading real-time viewer emails, texts and tweets about the show. This viewer interactivity is seen as the show’s differentiating feature or hook, although countless shows do the same thing all day long. 

         The risk of airing such a show comes to light, of course, when a tragedy occurs during that time and needs to be covered with some journalistic integrity. It takes a minimum of thirty minutes to get the more experienced and respected news anchors in studio and on camera. That timetable is fine when getting a crew to the location, but the live broadcast world operates in timeframe blocks that are closer to thirty seconds.

         So the anchorwoman put on her most serious face when she told the world that an unidentified male called 9-1-1 when he discovered three of the five bodies inside the residence. Police initially withheld the victims’ identities, but WNN quickly learned – and told the world - that the house belonged to Charles and Karen Elsinore. They were newly married, and she had a son from a previous marriage. Liz Meyers made clear to the viewing audience that there was no “official word” that the Elsinores were among the victims found. Just that they lived in the house that was suddenly the most gazed-upon crime scene in the nation.

         A short time later, Liz Meyers connected on air with her colleague on the scene, a seasoned reporter named Bob Gorman. Although you couldn’t tell on camera unless he was interviewing someone, he stood an imposing six-foot-five, and actually had to lean down to get his last touches of make-up on before the camera started rolling. When Liz Meyers asked him for his general impressions of the scene, Bob replied: “It’s like a circus here, but an eerie one. A lot of activity outside, but we can only imagine the scene inside is somber and macabre. Nothing anyone wants to see.”

         It was a nice enough summation, but network producers knew it was nonsense. Everyone wanted to see inside that house, and if only they were allowed to get cameras in there, they would have done it already.

         At 9:27 a police spokesperson held the first of many press conferences at the scene. He was a husky, balding man with a graying moustache who later regretted not taking off his aviator sunglasses before facing the cameras. A bunch of microphones were attached to a podium, looking like a windowbox bouquet in some science fiction, robot world. They pointed up at him as if they had an anticipation all their own.

         The officer wasted no time confirming what the media and the public at large suspected: two of the adult victims were indeed Charles and Karen Elsinore. Karen’s nineteen-year-old son Simon Elsinore was also killed, and a fourth victim, identified from the driver’s license found in his wallet, was a Zachary Beaumont, aged twenty-two. The fifth and final victim was Zachary’s father, Paul Beaumont. The officer assured reporters that surviving family members had been notified “some time ago.”

         The officer made it clear that he wouldn’t answer questions at this time, then proceeded to answer three out of four that were shouted at him by reporters:

         Is there any indication of a motive?

         Not at this time. It’s too early to speculate on that.

         Was anything stolen from the house?

         There doesn’t seem to be evidence of theft. We’re still gathering information.

         Who made the 9-1-1 call?

         We don’t know that at this time.

         Would that person be a suspect?

         Like I said, I really can’t answer questions at this time.

         Shortly after the mini press conference, the leaks started coming full force via text and twitter. Bob Gorman received a text from “a source close to the investigation.” He held up his phone on air to read it: “The way the bodies were found strongly suggests poisoning, although as many as three of the five victims were apparently stabbed as well. There seems to be no discernible pattern to the murders. No blood trail or other evidence that would clearly point to how the grisly events took place.” 

         Over the next twenty minutes it became clear that the 9-1-1 caller was indeed the starting point to the investigation, with the police finally naming him as a “person of interest.” The media interpreted this point of information to mean there was, quite possibly, an armed and dangerous killer loose on the streets of Bathton. They aired statements from local authorities advising (i.e. warning) people to stay indoors and not to engage with any strangers until police had “more to go on.” News networks produced experts (retired FBI, private investigators, and the like) to comment.

         One such on-air conversation between Liz Meyers and a retired homicide detective went like this:

         Liz Meyers: From what little information we have, do you have any insight? Do you see anything in this case that may resemble something you’ve seen before?

         Retired Investigator: Well, as you can imagine, every case is unique. Time of death is essential, obviously. And from what I can tell just watching the footage, these killings happened very recently.

         Liz Meyers: How can you tell that?

         Retired Investigator: There’s an urgency I can see in the start of the investigation. Hard to describe, but that’s what my gut tells me.

         Liz Meyers: And the 9-1-1 caller? What kind of status do you put on him?

         Retired Investigator: Suspect. Not to be too blunt, but why did he leave?

         Liz Meyers: So you’d go after him?

         Retired Investigator: Of course. And I’m sure that’s exactly what the police are doing. The important thing to remember here is that we don’t want to get caught up looking back too much and too soon over the last several hours of this story. If there’s a killer loose, we need to focus on the present and near future, so we don’t have cameras at a neighbor’s house or across town in an hour.

         That and several other similar interviews were more than enough to light the fire of paranoia around the town and over the airwaves. Some networks started using the phrase “Town in Lockdown” although there was nothing from the authorities to warrant that. Liz Meyers was given a piece to read before a commercial break that was obviously trying to be helpful. “Parents in the area. Keep your young ones indoors, especially the very young ones. Now is not the time for backyard play, even if you have a fence.”

         As soon as the commercial started, Liz Meyers made sure cameras were off before calling out: “Really? What was that?”

         Her producer, a well-educated man named Owen who kept his strong Christian beliefs a secret at work, told her to calm down. But it didn’t resonate with her. Liz Meyers wasn’t happy about being made to say something so stupid. After a moment she heard Bob Gorman in her earpiece.

         “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

         “Yeah, like Bathton moms are letting their toddlers run free this morning. It’s ok! we have a fence!”

         “It’s what we do,” Bob reminded her. “We talk. When we can’t report, we speculate. And we’re judged on the bigger picture. How did we cover the story? That’s the legacy. Now hang in there. You’re doing great.”

         “Thanks,” she told him. She made it sound genuine, but that was the acting part of her job. She mainly needed him to stop talking, because they were coming out of the break, and she needed to compose herself. Not to mention his advice was like from the 1990s. Really? We’re only judged on the “big picture?” Trip on a word or phrase so it sounds like you said a filthy sex term, and that’s the five-second clip that goes viral on YouTube. It doesn’t get much more “little picture” than that, moron.

         While all this speculation was going on about a mass murderer on the loose, information about the victims was pouring in as if from a broken dam. Charles and Karen Elsinore had been married for less than a month. Karen’s previous husband, and Simon’s father, was Charles’ older brother Richard Elsinore, who died from cardiac arrest just three months before. Richard was CEO of a prestigious Boston law firm and Paul Beaumont was a partner in that firm. Charles was in pharmaceuticals and ran a successful venture capitalist company in that arena. Out of all that information, what got the most TV airtime by far was the “unusual” fact that Karen married her brother-in-law soon after her husband died. (She too had biographical information that went beyond “wife” and “mother,” and even included a CEO title, but none of it was reported.)

         When they weren’t instilling fear in the general public, the networks focused on the mysterious 9-1-1 caller. He was all they had. In an attempt to delve into the hypothetical idea that he was also the killer, Liz Meyers spoke with a criminal psychologist:

         Liz Meyers: How likely is it, in your opinion, that the caller and the killer are one in the same?

         Psychologist: Well, it’s certainly quite possible. There are many psychological reasons why a killer might make that call.  

         Liz Meyers: Are you talking about remorse in the aftermath of such a brutal act? The need to help?

         Psychologist: Well, I can say I have seen that sort of thing in other cases over the years. The violence that comes about, for whatever unfortunate reason, crashes, and the killer is left with an overwhelming feeling of “Oh my God. What have I done?”

         Liz Meyers: So in that kind of situation, the killer might want to help by alerting authorities while at the same time not want to be seen as a helper.

         Psychologist: He most likely realizes he’s both, and it’s the killer identity he’s avoiding. That’s presumably why he left. Someone who would do something this horrific has dark, psychological issues, and in the moment of murder all of those issues are on the surface. Sometimes they fight for prominence in the killer’s mind.

         Liz Meyers: So it’s almost like a split personality?

         Psychologist: It could be that, but we don’t have enough to tell, of course. Calling could also speak to the killer’s arrogance and nothing more.

         Liz Meyers: How so?

         Psychologist: His need to turn the spotlight on himself as quickly as possible. As soon as his victims are found, his inevitable rise to notoriety would begin. In today’s media age, the next Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, or Jeffery Dahmer is only a commercial break away. So why not help that process along by making the call himself? Get the ball rolling.         

         Liz Meyers: Fascinating. I do hope you stick around as the story develops.

         She then told her viewers that WNN would return with their continuing coverage of the Mansion Murders right after these messages.

         “Mansion Murders” was the tragedy’s nickname that won out over several options. Like with journalism itself, the trick is not to have the best content, but to be first with it. The network that comes up with the name and starts using it first, becomes the leader. Once the public buys into the brand name of the event, the other networks have no choice but to follow suit. There is no reward, ratings or otherwise, for coming up with the name that sticks; the viewing public has no idea which network did it. It’s purely an internally competitive thing between the networks. The creators of the adopted name get to thumb their noses at the competition.

         A couple of name options that didn’t make the cut were “The Bathon Massacre,” “The Country Club Killings” and “Blood Bathton,” which was shot down, not because it was crude and offensive, but because not all the victims were killed in a bloody manner. They seemed more interested in the integrity of the brand name than in the actual reporting of the story.

         Liz Meyers was first to report that a charity brunch had taken place at the Elsinore house just yesterday. As a result, speculation ran wild that the guest list (rumored to be fifty people or more) for that event would be full of potential suspects. She asked Bob: “Are the police looking into that party? When do you think we’ll have those names?” Bob’s response was the same as all the other reporters there: an almost cinematic tease of “We just don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.”

         But everyone knows that “wait and see” is not an option for 24-hour news outlets. To that end, the networks jumped at the chance to report that a “manhunt” was underway. It had been confirmed that there were no signs of a break-in at the Elsinore estate, so police were going with the theory that the caller/murder suspect was someone known to the victims. And a manhunt was good news. Not good news in the traditional sense. It was, of course, bad news. The same way five people being murdered is always bad news. But the story was “good” for television in that it was worthy of continuous coverage and a brand name with on-air graphics and its own theme music. The thinking is that the general public has a right to know the details of a story like this as it happens. As long as wild speculation and tangential theories are identified as such, then what’s the harm?

         At 9:40, an angry WNN executive watching the drama from his home called into the office and berated Owen the producer for not changing the onscreen graphic from Breaking News to Developing Story. Not making the switch will make viewers just tuning in think WNN just found out about the story. When in fact, he loudly reminded the unfortunate producer, WNN was first to report it. And now, over an hour later, it was no longer breaking news; it was clearly a developing story. Poor Owen was ordered to “fix it – or else!”

         At 9:42, WNN’s Developing Story delivered the next dramatic break: neighbors reported seeing a UPS truck in the area around 8:00 that morning. None of these “witnesses,” however, could confirm if the truck stopped at the Elsinore residence. Police did find a package on the front porch of a house two doors down from the Elsinores. According to neighbors, the occupants were traveling out of state.

         Both the authorities and the media took interest in the UPS driver. The police wanted to question him in case he saw anything, but the media personalities treated him more ominously as a person on the scene who, in an opinion they readily passed along to viewers, had some explaining to do.

         Because UPS routes and deliveries are tracked and recorded down to the minute, it didn’t take long for the authorities and the media (working separately, of course) to name 39-year-old Jake Griswold as the driver in the neighborhood that morning. As luck would have it, Jake did notice something on that delivery that he felt was worth mentioning. And seeing his driver’s license photo on TV in connection with the Mansion Murders was reason enough to return to the scene and report what he saw.

         Unfortunately, poor Jake talked to reporters on the scene before talking to the police. The choice wasn’t entirely his fault, as the police did not rush to him like teens to a pop star, pointing cameras at him and thrusting logo-emblazoned microphones toward his scruffy, oblong chin. Questions were thrown at him like darts at a carnival’s wall of balloons. And he answered them, feeling suddenly famous and thinking he was doing the right thing, clearing his name and helping the investigation.

         Of course, he forgot one crucial detail. He wasn’t talking to investigators when he said: “I made a delivery just over there, but passing this house I noticed an unusual . . . or kinda . . . unlikely car in the driveway. It was a silver Honda. Civic, I think. Old, and a little beat up. You just don’t see cars like that parked at houses like this. Know what I mean?”

         As reporters fired follow-up questions about seeing any people or recalling the license plate number, a uniformed police officer built like night club bouncer crashed the press party with an emphatic: “What the hell is going on here?!?”

         The brief episode got the media a new focal point in the manhunt chapter of the saga: the silver Honda Civic. The cost? They all had to back up an additional 100 feet from the scene.

         WNN and the other networks were erroneously reporting the time of the deaths as earlier that morning, but police soon knew it was actually the previous night. Griswold was never a suspect, but his speaking to reporters on the scene did not sit well with several officers. There was talk of detaining him to teach him a lesson. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and that meant his fifteen minutes of fame were over just before 10:00.

         By then the police had already connected the silver Honda Civic with 19-year-old Alex Nolan. Some routine poking around confirmed a connection between Alex and Simon Elsinore. While the police put Alex’s name out, asking that he contact authorities to be questioned, the media wasted no time in showcasing Alex’s rather unflattering yearbook photo and provide background information – some real, some exaggerated and some outright false – about this young man and his friendship with the youngest victim of the Mansion Murders.

         Alex and Simon Elsinore were best friends at Winchester Prep, the prestigious, private high school in town. After graduation, Simon went on to film school in New York City, while Alex went to Clark University, where he stayed only one year before dropping out. In truth, Alex deferred his sophomore year and earned transfer credits closer to home while he worked on getting his start-up business, a video production company, off the ground. All that seemed overly complicated for TV, though. “Dropout” was a much better fit for someone who was the subject of a “manhunt.” The right terminology can move a story forward in more compelling ways.

         News networks continued to refer to Alex as the subject of the manhunt for almost an hour after he had, unbeknownst to any reporters, voluntarily turned himself in for questioning. Once the actual time of the deaths was corrected in the news reporting, Alex’s alibi was more than solid. He was out with his girlfriend at dinner and a movie. As the reliable corroboration of his story piled up, the media moved on. At one particularly astonishing point, Liz Meyers actually reported a “story” that their news team was looking into leads and tips that the Elsinores and Beaumonts were members of a Satanic cult, and that the unfortunate events were a ritual sacrifice gone wrong. No reliable sources materialized, however, so she didn’t officially report on the cult angle. Instead, she had to settle on the angle that the network couldn’t report the cult angle. Even though they did just that.

         In fact, that first hour of coverage set the tone for the rest of day, as information and misinformation were passed through the input/output machine of the television news media as quickly and efficiently as possible. In other words, the story unfolded like a paper snowflake. It was full of holes and every corner was cut.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! Click the full cover here for the amazon link.

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Cheers!