Excerpts from Lament for Sheku Bayoh
First Pause
First steps forward leaving the other two behind her. She takes out a reporter’s notebook from her pocket. She becomes the local reporter from the Fife Courier.
First: (Playing reporter from Fife Courier)
On May 3- 2015- Sheku Bayoh- a 31-year-old trainee gas engineer had been watching a boxing match with a friend. Police received reports of a man wielding a machete and behaving erratically at Hayfield Road, Kirkcaldy.
Police say they found Sheku and tried to engage him. He was then restrained with batons and CS spray. It is said that anywhere between six and nine officers were involved – using leg and ankle restraints. It is said that no knife was found in his possession.
Sheku’s family say up to six of the nine of the officers were on top of him. He lost consciousness and never recovered.
The shock of Sheku’s death in police custody was felt far and wide. Sheku’s well-attended funeral was held on Sunday June 7 as mourners still waited for answers on just what had happened.
First closes the notebook and puts it back in her pocket. She becomes herself again, thinks about what she says. The three walk forward and take their seats at the three desks.
Lament (Part Two)
The Three take their seats. Ready to go on air. The on air sign goes red. The Three are playing the BBC unless otherwise indicated.
First:
The BBC understands Mr Bayoh had taken the drug ecstasy.
Second:
The CCTV shows Mr Bayoh approaching the police at about 07:20am.
Third:
The BBC understands the pictures show he did not have a knife.
Second: (she turns away from her microphone)
2 of the 9 officers? Or was it – 9? Maybe it was 8 – or was it 4?
First: (pulls away from the microphone- talks to the audience)
Two of the officers believed (whispers) they could be facing a terrorist incident. Is that understood?
Do we have you so far?
Second:
A leading authority on police restraint and use of force, Eric Baskind of Liverpool John Moore University says…
First: (Playing Eric Baskind)
What strikes me from the evidence of the officers is that they approach the scene with the intention of using force. He’s not running away—he’s not, at that moment in time, creating a danger to anyone. They get there—they screech to a halt—they get out of the cars with irritant sprays and batons. That to me doesn’t seem measured. That is not best practice. And all of those actions were very escalatory.
Second:
The BBC understands at least four and up to six officers were immediately involved in the encounter. That CS spray and police batons were used and within about thirty seconds Mr Bayoh was brought to the ground face down. Handcuffs and leg restraints were applied.
Third:
The BBC understands PC Paton and a colleague known as officer B, who were two of the first on the scene, had a combined weight of about forty three stones.
First:
Eyewitnesses understand that the officers were kneeling and lying on Mr Bayoh in order to restrain him.
Second:
A civilian witness told investigators officers were lying across Mr Bayoh for several minutes.
First: (Playing Civilian Witness)
I heard him screaming. It sent chills through me. I heard the man shout to get the police off him. They never moved.
Second:
An internal police document written less than an hour after Bayoh’s death said that police attended reports of a male with a machete in the street.
Third: (Playing Police Officer)
Move along folks. Come on now. You’ve homes to go to.
First:
The BBC understands that in less than five minutes after the encounter began Mr Bayoh was noticed to be unconscious, and one officer radioed for an ambulance.
Second:
Officer B – who is six foot and four inches and weighed twenty five stone – told investigators he had Mr Bayoh pinned to the ground for—
Third: (Playing Officer B)
—a maximum of 30 seconds.
Second:
Another said the restraint had been—
Third: (Playing another Police Officer)
—appropriate – textbook stuff – in line with our training.
Second: (Playing Civilian Witness)
I heard him screaming. It sent chills through me. I heard the man shout to get the police off him. They never moved.
First:
CPR was attempted by the officers, but Mr Bayoh arrived by ambulance at the town’s Victoria Hospital – where his sister works – unresponsive. He was pronounced dead at 09:04.
Third: (Playing Third)
Okay?
Second: (Playing Second)
Yes.
First: (Playing First)
You all know this.
Third:
We know all this – but their lawyer Aamer Anwar told us—
Second: (Playing Aamer- at a press conference)
He wasn’t 6ft plus – he was 5ft 10in. He wasn’t super-sized – he was 12 stone 10 pounds. He wasn’t brandishing a knife at a police officer. He didn’t stab a police officer. In fact he wasn’t carrying a knife when the police officers attended.
Third: (Playing Third)
It’s all very complicated.
Second: (Playing Second)
We are told we don’t understand.
Third: (Playing PC Short)
Mr Bayoh’s muscles were bulging and he looked aggressive. He was not listening to commands and looked very intimidating – said PC Short.
Second:
The BBC understands the pictures show that he did not have a knife. The eyewitnesses understand that the officers were kneeling and lying on Mr Bayoh in order to restrain him.
First:
Two officers believed they could be facing a terrorist incident.
Second: (Playing Second)
We understand.
Third: (Playing Aamer)
He didn’t attempt to stab anyone – and he wasn’t found with a knife on him. Those are the actual facts.
Second: (Playing Second)
We are told we don’t understand.
Third: (PC Short)
I have never seen anything like it before – he was like a zombie. PC Short.
Second: (Playing Second)
Officer?
Third: (PC Short)
I was terrified that he was going to kill a member of the public if he was allowed to leave the street – which is what he was trying to do. PC Short.
First:
She said her colleague used a spray on Mr Bayoh and it hit him in the face.
Third: (PC Short)
But he kept laughing and just wiped it as if it was water, and kept walking in the same direction. Nothing was working and we were not in control of the situation at all. PC Short.
First:
She took her baton from its holster and told him to get on his knees.
All: (all)
It’s pretty hard going here – here on the ground.
First:
The BBC understands PC Paton and a colleague known as Officer B – who were two of the first on the scene – were understood to have a combined weight of about 43 stones.
Second: (Playing Second)
In driven snow. We leave—
Third: (PC Short)
Mr Bayoh appeared to be on a mission, from the manner in which he was walking. He appeared out of control and dangerous, and given the reports of him chasing people with a knife, as well as his demeanour and the way he didn’t react to the sprays, I felt that he could not be permitted to leave. I was terrified that he was going to kill a member of the public, if he was allowed to leave the street, which is what he was trying to do. PC Short.
Second:
Officer?
Third: (PC Short)
Mr Bayoh’s muscles were bulging and he looked aggressive. He was not listening to commands and looked very intimidating. PC Short.
Second: (Playing Second)
Officer?
Third: (PC Short)
He appeared out of control and dangerous. PC Short.
Second:
Officer?
Third: (Playing Second)
I have never seen anything like it before – he was like a zombie. PC Short.
Second: (Playing Second)
Officer? Please!
First:
Following Sheku’s death, PC Paton’s brother-in-law, Barry Swan claimed the officer was a racist. Swan claimed the officer once said: “I’m a total racist – I hate all blacks” PC Paton has denied the claims.
Second: (Playing Second)
You’re fucking blind to it.
First:
Barry Swan, 43, said: “He out and out admitted that he was a racist, that he hates them, as he puts it, all the blacks. It’s not right he’s a police officer.”
Second: (Playing Second)
Understand this.
Third: (PC Short)
Mr Bayoh’s muscles were bulging and he looked aggressive. He was not listening to commands and looked very intimidating.
First: (Playing First)
Understand this.
Second:
Collette Bell, Mr Bayoh’s partner and the mother of his eight-month-old son Isaac, said: “They’re supposed to be trained in restraint. They should have the knowledge and ability to deal with those people appropriately without having to beat them to a pulp. There are ways and means to restrain somebody without killing them. There’s no doubt about it, if Shek had not come into contact with the police he would still be here and that hurts a lot.”
First:
Days after his death, the Scottish Police Federation lawyer Peter Watson told the media that a petite female police officer was subjected to a violent and unprovoked attack by a very large man who punched, kicked and stamped on her.
Third: (Police Officer)
Move along.
Second: (Playing Second)
Move along.
First: (Police Officer)
Move along.
Second: (Playing Civilian)
I heard him screaming. It sent chills through me. I heard the man shout to get the police off him. They never moved.
First: (Police Officer)
Move along.
Third: (Playing Civilian)
I heard the man shout to get the police off him. They never moved.
Second: (Playing Second)
Move along.
The Photograph (Part One)
Picture of Sheku in a kilt appears. They all look at him, take a moment. They smile. He is lovely. Second returns to us, speaks but she is speaking for them all. The three are in symmetry.
Second:
Och! There he is, in his kilt.
There is a joyful bulk to him, don’t you think?
The sun is shining in that Scottish sunshine way.
Where is this then?
Is there lots of noise around you?
A wedding perhaps?
Ah! You’re a captured happiness.
That big smile.
There is something of belonging here—a comfortable thing.
You’re a Saturday night. A stag? Or better, a wolf, wi your pack. You look – och!
Maybe you’ve found your people.
That big ol smile – it’s a winner – you charmer.
(Pause)
Did you know?
Did you?
That one day this photie – would be used to say that once you belonged here – and that your blackness would be striking – would challenge something—
Och! Look!
There he is – in his kilt.
Lament (Part Six)
First:
My beautiful brown boy. Welcome to your world. My love. Oh my sweet child. Let me teach you your words. Hold your tongue. Hold your hand as you cross the road, as you leap past the cracks. Don’t fall in.
(Pause)
Don’t fall for it son. Let me hold you until you fall asleep in my arms. Let me. Let you dream.
(The three step into the soft light)
Dream my boy. I’ll fight the demons- the nightmares gathering in black shirts- in combat boots- in high vis vests- in hipster yellow t-shirts- wrapped in flags- in suits and in brass button uniform. Let me give you night light and night light and night light to comfort you in the darkness. To light your way home. Teach you the secret histories of you and I- that sit in the underground vaults and let me knit those stories into a bulletproof vest for you. My beautiful son.
(The three step back into the dark)
My beautiful brown boy. Welcome to your world. Let me tell you that the monsters
are not under your bed- are not confined to the pages of fairy tales. Let me show you
where they are- who they are- teach you their secret codes- let me show you how to avoid them- to pacify them- let me teach you to eat the injustice- to swallow it and to later spit it up into your Grandmother’s jewelled spitoon- it’s your colonial legacy son.
(Pause)
My beautiful brown boy- my sweet son- welcome to your world.
Lights dim. Lights flash back on. Too bright for a second and then dim to photograph.
Aamer Anwar’s Office
Third becomes Aamer Anwar. Busy, a hundred things he has to deal with. First sits nervously with a notebook and pen, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Second remains in her place head down, when the scene ends she slowly and gracefully, full of fire, moves forward.
First:
I sit in his office in Carlton place. Sit amongst the folders and folders of judgements and appeals. And he looks out at me from his mountain top of papers—threatening to topple- topple something. He says-
Third: (Aamer, is ready – indicates for her to begin)
Right. Okay.
First:
And then he is distracted by laptop ping and phone buzz (Aamer picks up his phone) and my questions have turned to vapours and have left me as he turns back his attention to me- I pick up the threads and try to weave something- to ask him something- that question- that will help me make sense of this- ask something- get something that will make sense of it all for me. And as he talks and I take notes which fall away to the margins on my page…It’s senseless- senseless- fuck! (pause) I’m aware I have taken his time and I’ve nothing but my own useless heartbreak and I’m no avenging angel. I’m no justice for you. I’m just a voice saying your name- asking others to say it too. Sheku. Sheku. Sheku. (pause) Putting down the facts I can hold- that I am able to carry- that I will be able to lay out. And it hurts. (directs her question to Aamer) What can art do?
Third: (Aamer takes a moment to think)
I think it can be a start…
First: ( turns to audience)
Better I let him talk.
Third: (Aamer now closes the laptop and puts down the phone, looks out intently as if at a press conference)
There has been an attempt to criminalise Sheku Bayoh in his death – the dead can’t answer back but his family have answered for him. He wasn’t 6ft plus, he was 5ft 10in. He wasn’t super-sized, he was 12 stone 10 pounds. He wasn’t brandishing a knife at a police officer. He didn’t stab a police officer. In fact he wasn’t carrying a knife when the police officers attended. PC Nicole Short talks of the fear of a murder taking place. The reality is that there was only one person that day who died- Sheku Bayoh. He was the only person whose body was covered from top to bottom in bruises, cuts and lacerations. He didn’t attempt to stab anyone. He wasn’t found with a knife on him. These are the actual facts.
Lament ( Part Eight)
The Three remain at the microphones.
Third:
The black cab driver does racist things.
The kids on the street are doing racist things.
The drunk men on the train do racist things.
My son’s teacher does racist things.
My colleague does racist things.
My neighbours are doing racist things.
My politicians are doing racist things.
My prime minister is doing racist things.
My police are doing racist things.
My friends are doing racist things.
My family are doing racist things.
My lover is doing racist things.
First:
I am tired.
I am waking up
in harr days- the fog so thick- it slips under the mat- under my door- into my home-
comes to me at the bathroom mirror- where I stand looking for myself
and seeing nothing of myself there. I walk out of my home-
increasingly at odds with myself here and I am tired. I am tired.
Second:
In the dreich.
I am head down.
I walk hurriedly past old dangers and into new- headlong into new walls-
trip into recently dug ditches and trench. Fall
into new cracks opened up by your heavy boots.
Third:
I am stripped to the bone
in all your acid words-
in all your acid looks.
First:
My beautiful brown boy.
My sweet son-
welcome to your world.
Hannah Lavery is a poet, playwright, performer and director. The Drift, her autobiographical lyric play, toured Scotland as part of the National Theatre of Scotland’s Season 2019. In 2020, she was awarded a New Playwrights’ Award by the Playwrights Studio Scotland and selected by Owen Sheers’ as one of his Ten Writers Asking Questions That Will Shape Our Future for the International Literature Showcase. In November 2020, her highly acclaimed play Lament for Sheku Bayoh was directed by Hannah in a co-production with the Royal Lyceum Theatre, National Theatre of Scotland and Edinburgh International Festival. Lament will also be performed at the 2021 Edinburgh International Festival.
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