HAS JOHN ALLEN MUHAMMED BEEN GETTING A BAD RAP?

The other day I’m reading the Post, and Beltway sniper John Allen Muhammed’s ex-wife Mildred claims that the 12 or so shootings were meant as a decoy. See, John Allen was really planning to kill HER. Why? Because Mildred has custody of the couple’s children. John Allen was eventually going to snipe his ex, make police think she was just another of the sniper’s random targets, then claim custody of the poor little orphans.

But before we label John Allen Muhammed, and his teenage sidekick John Lee Malvo, a pair of sick psychos and cowards, let’s remember something about John Allen Muhammed: He did all this so he could be with his kids. One might even say he loved his children so much, that he was willing to engage in this murderous rampage, and risk astronomical jail time and/or the electric chair, just to be with them.

John Allen Muhammed, I’m fairly certain from his photograph, is a black man. In this sad modern age, when too many of our African American men are abandoning their children like radioactive waste, isn’t John Allen Muhammed as much a symbol of inspiration as of sociopathic behavior? I think so. Hey, I call it as I see it, and here I see a man who seriously wanted to take responsibility for the acts his dick perpetrated. And that’s more than Michael Jordan and Bill Cosby have been willing to do lately (Feel free to applaud.) Why make them media darlings, television stars, while ignoring John Allen Muhammed?

To demonstrate J A Muhammed’s potential as a television personality, I’ve written up this quick pilot for a television show starring him.


“The Beltway-mooners.” Starring John Allen Muhammed.

(LAUGH = indicates when audience “Laugh” sign is activated.)


(INT. Cramped lower-class apartment in Washington.)

(Front door opens. Enter JOHN ALLEN MUHAMMED.)

John Al: I’m home, Mildred! What’s for dinner?

Mildred (Enters from off.): The usual. Honey, graham crackers, and vitamin supplements.

John Al (Excited): I gotta show you somethin, Mildred! It’s gonna make us a lotta money! (Takes a stack of cards out of his coat pocket.)

Mild: TAROT cards?

John Al: I’m gonna tell people their fortunes!

Mild: Sure you are. (Takes top card off deck, mocks a reading.) “You will soon be relieved of your money by an idiot.” (LAUGH)

John Al: Wrong, Mildred! The first thing I’m gonna do is write on ‘em that I’m God!

Mild: God? John Allen, you couldn’t find religion if you used a telescopic rifle sight. (LAUGH.)

John Al: Heh heh heheheh. (Has taken all he will.) One of these days, Mildred. One of these days—POW! Right to the Holy Land! (LAUGH.)

(Knock at door. Mildred goes to answer.)

(Mildred opens door. It’s MALVO, John Allen’s friend/ sidekick.)

Mild: Hey, John Allen. I don’t know if you ordered any blanks, but here’s one at the door. (LAUGH.)

(Malvo enters.)

(Mildred exits.)

Malvo: Hey Joh-nee!

John Al: Hey Malvo, you notice Mildred actin’ differently lately?

Malvo: Well now that you mention it, I overheard her talkin to Ethel the other day, and she kept sayin how you were gonna forget your anniversary today.

John Al: She said THAT?! She thought I would forget our anniversary? She actually thought I would forget a thing like that?!

Malvo: You forgot, didn’t you?

John Al: …Yeah. (LAUGH.) (Snaps his fingers.) Waitasecond! I got a plan, Malvo, but I’ll need your help!

(They exit.)

(EXT. Man pumps gas at an outdoor station. BLAM! He falls.)

(EXT. Different man. He gets out of his car to walk into a restaurant. BLAM! He falls.)

(EXT. Woman at an outdoor strip mall, HOME DEPOT in bg. She’s helping her husband load stuff into the van. BLAM! She falls.)

(INT. John Allen and Mildred’s apartment.)

(Mildred is doing housework while a radio blares in bg.)

Radio: Police have now identified the TWELFTH victim of the “Beltway Sniper…”

(John Allen bursts through door, looking anxious…)

John Al: Mildred, I gotta talk to you!

Mildred: Stay away from me, John Allen!

John Al: But I gotta explain somethin to you…

(Suddenly, door bursts open again. It’s the cops! They quickly surround John Allen and point guns at his head…)

Cop: Don’t move, John Allen Muhammed! You’re under arrest for fourteen shootings in the D.C. and Maryland area!

John Al: Wait! Let me show you all why I did it!

(John Allen Muhammed takes a large, rolled-up paper from his coat, lays it flat against wall. It’s a map. It shows all the shooting locations—they are all marked with red dots. John Allen Muhammed takes a pen, connects the dots. They form the letters M-I-L-D-R-E-D on the map.)

John Al: Happy Anniversary, Mildred!

Mild: Oh, John Allen Muhammed! You do love me after all!

(The cops cuff John Allen Muhammed. They are about to lead him away when his wife presses up close to him…)

Mild: I’ll wait for you, John Allen Muhammed.

John Al: Thanks, Mildred. But I might be going away for a long, long time.

Mild: I don’t care. Anyway, it’s the least I can do since I called the cops on you.

John Al: Baby, you’re the greatest.

(Applause. Fade-out.)

(Don’t you love a happy ending?)