DYING TO MAKE A FILM
It Was a Dream Worth Dying For
SIR RAY MANN
Copyright © 2012 Sir Ray Mann
I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.
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2013-01-18
Dedication
To my big brother Willie Jr. i will always love you and remember you. To my mom who first taught me about faith i love you and to my dad who taught me how to be a man i love you also.
The Road from Jersey
The year is 1986 and I’m 23. Three hours after hanging out in Havana, Cuba, we climb back into the speedboat and it roars across the Atlantic. We hit speeds of up to 75 miles per hour, bouncing high above the surface, headed for the Bahamas. I think about my life, my acting career, the new movie that I’m going to write, produce and direct myself. But just fifteen minutes into the ride, the driver shuts off the engines and the boat slowly comes to a dead stop. The driver and William suddenly brandish guns and point them directly at me. My friend Ricardo jumps up. “Whoa! What’s up with the guns?”
“Shut up,” William barks. He’s the leader, and he’s drunk and has a crazy look in his eyes. Then he turns to me. “You a cop?”
Confused and terrified, I put my hands up. “Are you crazy? No, I’m not a cop!”
“Get in the water.”
I almost laugh; I can’t tell if William is serious or not. We’re miles from land. Ricardo tries to say something, but William points his finger at him, silencing my friend.
I look down at the churning water and then up at William and his gun. “This is bullshit,” I say. “I’m not a cop. I’m not getting into that water.” And then I turn to Ricardo who has gotten me involved with the job: “What kind of bullshit is this?”
Ricardo just stares back. I can tell he’s just as surprised by all this as I am. But he doesn’t have two guns pointed at his chest. I do. The cold Atlantic below sloshes against the side of our boat. Its bottom is invisible. There’s no way I’m getting in that water.
“I’d rather you shoot me than jump in there,” I say to William. I am serious. I’m a terrible swimmer; I almost drowned in summer camp as a boy. William puts the barrel of his gun inches away from my face: “That won’t be a problem.”
I know this guy is just trying to break me, to see if I can be trusted, but I also know this guy is crazy. And I’m crazy, too, for hooking up with these people. William’s eyes focus and grow as cold as ice. He’s going to shoot me, I think. What can I do? I could scream, but to whom? I’m in the middle of the damn Atlantic Ocean with a Colombian drug lord and one of his henchmen, both of whom work for the infamous Pablo Escobar. They have guns pointed at my face, calling me a cop. If I get out of this alive, the thought suddenly comes to me that no one will believe this story. This is right out of a Hollywood movie, and I’m the star and this is my close-up.
No, this is all very real. The drifting boat. The blank horizon. The guns. This is not a movie and I don’t know if I’m going to live or die.
William steadies his aim, and I do the only thing I can do: I jump in the water. It’s freezing and a shock runs up my body. Immediately, I swim over to the boat and cling to its side.
“Are you DEA?” William growls, keeping the gun on me.
The cold water crashes against my face. “What makes you think I’m a cop?” He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then says, “Let go of the boat.”
I look at Ricardo who nods quickly, and after I take a deep breath to summon whatever confidence I still have left, I let go. I immediately struggle to stay afloat. No one speaks for fifteen seconds. Treading water couldn’t be more difficult, and my left leg is soon ravaged by a strong, needling cramp. I grab the side of the boat again.
“I have a cramp,” I whimper through coughs. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Come on!” Ricardo screams at William. “Let him in! He’s not a cop!”
The driver suddenly stands and points over my head. Quietly, he says, “Sharks.”
I immediately piss myself at the word. Shark. Shark. I don’t want to, but I twist around to see two shark fins twenty feet away. They’re making their way towards the boat, towards me.
“Those are dolphins,” William laughs.
“Bullshit!” Ricardo screams. “Those are sharks!”
I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stare at the two gray fins carving through the surface of the water.
William leans down over the side of the boat. Again, he asks if I’m a cop.
“I’m not a cop!” I shout. My voice doesn’t sound like my voice. Maybe this is a movie. It’s all so surreal. Is this really happening to me?
“Come on!” Ricardo begs. “I vouched for him. He’s not a cop! There’s no way Ray’s a cop!”
The fins separate left and right, and they keep heading towards me. Then they disappear underwater. Above my head, I hear William tell Ricardo he better be right.
Any second, I think, any second William and Ricardo are going to grab me by my arms and pull me back into the boat, but then something bumps up against my side. I’m afraid to look down because I know what it was that bumped me. Another cramp attacks my left leg, right above the other cramp, and I go under with salt water rushing into my mouth and nose.
Underwater, I see the two sharks circling me. They’re long and gray and I watch their big black eyes. I try to swim upwards, but the cramps intensify and I can’t reach the surface. I bob there like a piece of meat, and I know that’s what I look like to these two sharks.
An invisible hand suddenly grabs my hair and another grabs my shirt, and seconds later I’m rising above the water, gasping, waiting for a shark to pull me back down and never let go. Ricardo and William struggle together to pull me into the boat. The wait is over; one of the sharks rises out of the water just behind me. William screams. Ricardo and the driver scream. They rip me backwards and the shark slams down its jaws, biting the heel of my left sneaker, and then disappears with my shoe.
Inside the boat
