THE LARAMIE PROJECT

Audition Materials for MALES

(You will be asked to read both selections.)

 

 

MATT GALLOWAY (pp.29-30):

 

          So what can I tell you about Matt?

          If you had a hundred customers like him it’d be the—the most perfect bar I’ve ever been in.  Okay?  And nothing to do with sexual orientation.  Um, absolute mannerisms.  Manners.  Politeness, intelligence.

          Taking care of me, as in tips.  Everything—conversation, uh, dressed nice, clean-cut.  Some people you just know, sits down, “Please,” “Thank you” —offers intellect, you know, within—within—within their vocabulary.

          Um, so, he kicks it there.  Didn’t seem to have any worries, or like he was looking for anyone.  Just enjoy his drink and the company around.

          Now approximately eleven forty-five, eleven-thirty—eleven forty-five, Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson come in.  I didn’t know their names then, but they’re the accused, they’re the perps, they’re the accused.

          They walked in, just very stone-faced, you know.  Dirty.  Grungy.  Rude.  “Gimme.”  That type of thing.  They walked up to the bar, uh, and, as you know, paid for a pitcher with dimes and quarters, uh, which is something that I mean you don’t forget.  You don’t forget that.  Five-fifty in dimes and quarters.  That’s a freakin’ nightmare.

          Now Henderson and McKinney, they didn’t seem intoxificated at all.  They came in—they just ordered a beer, took the pitcher with them back there into the pool room, and kept to themselves.  Next thing I knew, probably a half hour later, they were walking around—no beer.  And I remember thinking to myself that I’m not gonna ask them if they want another one, because obviously they just paid for a pitcher with dimes and quarters.  I have a real good feeling they don’t have any more money.

 

 

DENNIS SHEPARD (p.95):

 

          My son Matthew did not look like a winner.  He was rather uncoordinated and wore braces from the age of thirteen until the day he died.  However, in his all too brief life he proved that he was a winner.  On October 6, 1998, my son tried to show the world that he could win again.  On October 12, 1998, my firstborn son and hero lost.  On October 12, 1998, my firstborn son and hero died, fifty days before his twenty-second birthday.

          I keep wondering the same thing that I did when I first saw him in the hospital.  What would he have become?  How could he have changed his piece of the world to make it better?

          Matt officially died in a hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado.  He actually died on the outskirts of Laramie, tied to a fence.  You, Mr. McKinney, with your friend Mr. Henderson left him out there by himself, but he wasn’t alone.  There were his lifelong friends with him, friends that he had grown up with.  You’re probably wondering who these friends were.  First, he had the beautiful night sky and the same stars and moon that we used to see through a telescope.  Then he had the daylight and the sun to shine on him.  And through it all he was breathing in the scent of pine trees from the snowy range.  He heard the wind, the ever-present Wyoming wind, for the last time.  He had one more friend with him, he had God.  And I feel better knowing he wasn’t alone.