(In MRS WALPURGIS's house. COPS, MR CLIPBOARD, and MRS WALPURGIS.)

COP 2:  Zealous. Very zealous.

COP 1:  You're not going
     to help the case
     by being too enthusiastic.
     Fortunately the newspaper
     isn't interested
     in the family's complaints.

COP 2:  Doesn't sell newspapers.

MRS WALPURGIS:  We mustn't criticise
     Mr Clipboard,
     he's on the front line.
     Friendly fire
     it's called. This is a war,
     make no mistake,
     and all wars
     have collateral
     damage.

     Look down this street.
     I've seen gangs of youth
     with spray cans
     in broad daylight
     putting their marks
     on the bright wash
     of architect-designed
     houses. How are we going to
     attract the professionals
     if that keeps up?

     And I've seen her
     chatting with them
     and handing out cigarettes —
     a crime in itself,
     tobacco to minors.
     She should be locked
     up for that anyway.

MR CLIPBOARD:  The word. Graffiti. Signatures.

COP 1:  What's he on about?

MRS WALPURGIS:  Shell shock. He's under stress.
     We need to support him.

COP 2:  I was shot at once.
     The guy who tried to plug me
     was a doctor. Had put a bullet
     in his wife in a blind rage.

MR CLIPBOARD (dreamily):
     She talks to me while I take down numbers.
     Sometimes I feel like she's family.

MRS WALPURGIS:  Come on Mr Clipboard,
     it's time you were
     getting back to your post.

MR CLIPBOARD:  Yes, there's a lot of cars,
     a lot of number plates.
     a lot of numbers
     to be taken down.
     Recorded.

(MR CLIPBOARD exits.)

COP 1:  His observations don't add up.
     Doesn't work as data.

MRS WALPURGIS:  He is a powerful symbol.
     A neighbourhood icon.
     In the vanguard.
     A martyr.

(COPS exit.)

(MRS WALPURGIS exits.)