I am her aunt, here in Lansing. I hope you understand why we didn’t call, right away.
INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
CORONER
Of course, ma’am. Now, you understand, the remains are not fit for viewing. I’d recommend no one do so.
INT. NELLIE’S AUNT’S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
NELLIE’S AUNT
We understand perfectly. And I also hope you understand that we’d like to ensure the greatest amount of discretion, in transportation.
INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
CORONER
Of course, ma’am. And where will she be buried?
INT. NELLIE’S AUNT’S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
NELLIE’S AUNT
A family plot, in Mount Hope Cemetery. In Lansing, of course. I’m sure you understand, but we’d all rather forget her little foray to your township.
INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
CORONER
Of course, ma’am.
INT. MOUNT HOPE CEMETERY – DAY
A coffin containing Ellen Kehoe is lowered into the earth, while a Catholic priest and family members stand by, looking more awkward than emotional.
As the coffin enters the earth, we see the name on the tombstone: Ellen Price.
INT. MACDONALD HOUSE – DAY
Mrs. MacDonald is crying, staring into space at the kitchen table. Mr. MacDonald sits, frustrated with her.
ON-SCREEN TITLES
Three Months After
MR. MACDONALD
You’ve got to get up. You’ve got to do something.
MRS. MACDONALD
I just keep seeing Thelma, laid out like that.
Mr. MacDonald pounds the table in frustration.
MR. MACDONALD
Jesus H. Christ, woman. It’s been three months. She isn’t coming back. Life has to go on. I have to go on. I can’t live like this.
Mrs. MacDonald begins to cry, still staring and without making a sound.
MR. MACDONALD
(continued)
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We just can’t… give up on life. I’m determined. These feelings aren’t going to do the washing.
Mrs. MacDonald continues crying and staring, silently. Mr. MacDonald walks out of the house, leaving her there.
INT. BATH GENERAL STORE
The store is empty of any customers. Mr. MacDonald walks in and greets the store owner.
STORE OWNER
How do you do, Mr. MacDonald?
MR. MACDONALD
We’re getting by. It’s never an easy thing.
STORE OWNER
I wouldn’t imagine it ever is.
MR. MACDONALD
I just came to get us a paper. We heard the governor’s set up a Bath relief fund, with all the donations.
STORE OWNER
Sure has. The county gave $2500 and the state legislature another $2000.
MR. MACDONALD
And that’s separate from the new school building fund?
STORE OWNER
Right.
MR. MACDONALD
Well, what do you know? The days are bad and worse, but it’s good to get some good news.
STORE OWNER
(hesitant)
Did you hear about the Gibbs girl?
MR. MACDONALD
Beatrice? No.
STORE OWNER
She was caught in the blast. Been in the hospital all this time, poor girl.
MR. MACDONALD
Is she okay?
STORE OWNER
She died during hip surgery yesterday.
MR. MACDONALD
Three months and Kehoe’s still killing. Jesus. I just… some days, I wish I just had something to hit.
STORE OWNER
I’m sorry, Mr. MacDonald.
EXT. BATH TOWNSHIP STREET – MORNING
Parents drive children, dressed for school, down the road. At every building, people stand and stare.
ON-SCREEN TITLES
5 September 1927
Three and a Half Months After
INT. CRUM’S DRUGSTORE – MORNING
Mr. and Mrs. Crum stand at their store’s windows, looking at parents and children going to school – some driving, some walking.
MRS. CRUM
Look at them, going back to school. Life goes on. We rebuild. We continue.
Yes, but it’s never quite the same. Like a broken bone. It heals, but…
MRS. CRUM
They’re going back to school. After everything that’s happened. Can’t you just enjoy the sight?
J. A. CRUM
I do, honey. I do. But look at them. How many of these children begged not to go, afraid of another bomb? And how many parents gave in?
MRS. CRUM
And when a bomb doesn’t come, they’ll come back. And they’ll learn, slowly, not to be afraid.
J. A. CRUM
They should be afraid. I’m afraid.
MRS. CRUM
Of what? It’s over.
J. A. CRUM
It’s never over. Not something like this. They’re all shell-shocked, like soldiers in the war.
MRS. CRUM
They’re just little boys and girls. Children are more resilient than us.
J. A. CRUM
I don’t know. Like the boys in the war, they carry inside them some damage. Bones that healed but… How many of those boys came home from war unable to sleep or even to function? And drank themselves to death. Or beat their wives and children. Or killed themselves.
MRS. CRUM
These aren’t little soldiers. They’re still children. Most of them will forget. They’ll play and learn and grow up, exactly as we did.
J. A. CRUM
It’s terrible to think about, on a day like this, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but think about Kehoe’s final message.
MRS. CRUM
Criminals are made, not born. But it was a lie. Kehoe wasn’t pushed into what he did by taxes or by Huyck or anyone else.
J. A. CRUM
I agree. But maybe he had something else. A bone that never healed. Before he ever came to Bath.
MRS. CRUM
These little children aren’t criminals.
J. A. CRUM
I’m not saying that. Some bones heal and aren’t a problem. Others are just waiting, underneath the skin, to fracture, decades later. They haven’t been through war, but these kids… they’ve seen their classmates crushed beneath rubble, or splintered with shrapnel. Or burning.
MRS. CRUM
It was terrible. But we’ve all been crushed by something. We’ve all been splintered. We’ve all been burning, with love or with rage. And we don’t kill people.
J. A. CRUM
I just wonder what that does to them.
MRS. CRUM
Be quiet and enjoy the sight.
She holds his arm, and they look out together as the children pass by.
EXT. BATH TOWNSHIP HALL – MORNING
A school bus, driven by Warren Keyes, sits outside, unloading children. A small traffic jam of cars, driven by parents, who stand with their children, saying goodbye and sending them into school. Some teachers, including Bernice Sterling, guide the children.
BERNICE STERLING
Come on, children. Some of you are in the town hall here. Some of you are in the community hall there. Others are going to have class in a store. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Now, come on and follow your teacher. If you don’t know him or her, that’s okay. Stay with your grade. We’re going to class.
The teachers gather up their children, as life returns to Bath.
INT. BATH TOWNSHIP HALL – DAY
A school board meeting is taking place.
SCHOOL BOARD LEADER
So we’re all agreed on O. M. Brant as the new superintendent. I understand he’s eager to take the job, even though it means moving his family from Luther, Michigan. Are there any objections?
(pause)
Then let’s talk about the school reconstruction. Warren Holmes, an architect in Lansing, has generously donated plans for a new wing for the school, to replace the collapsed one.
EXT. BATH CONSOLIDATED SCHOOL – DAY
A small press conference in under way, with journalists and cameramen covering it. The school board leader is talking to the press, while Senator James J. Couzens stands by his side.
ON-SCREEN TITLES
15 September 1927
Four Months After
SCHOOL BOARD LEADER
And so I’m proud to introduce James J. Couzens, U.S. Senator from our great state.
JAMES J. COUZENS
So many of you have been through heck, but I want you to know that the people of our state love and care for you. That’s why I’m proud to present to you, and particularly to the children of Bath, a personal check from me any my family for $75,000, for the construction of the new school.
SCHOOL BOARD LEADER
Thank you, Senator. And I’d like to announce that, upon the completion of construction, the school will be renamed the James Couzens Agricultural School!
The crowd claps and cheers, though not overwhelmingly so.
EXT. A SPORTING GOODS STORE IN LANSING, MICHIGAN – DAY
This is the same place that Andrew Kehoe first bought pyrotol. A customer walks up and enters the store.
INT. A SPORTING GOODS STORE – DAY (CONTINUOUS)
The customer goes up to the counter and gets the store clerk’s attention.
CUSTOMER
Where’s the pyrotol?
STORE CLERK
We don’t carry it anymore.
CUSTOMER
On account of that bombing, up in Bath? There was nothing in the papers.
STORE CLERK
I don’t rightly know why, but I can’t stock it if the suppliers don’t carry it anymore.
CUSTOMER
Because of one lunatic, I can’t get pyrotol?
STORE CLERK
For all I know, they just run out of it. It was surplus from the war. Might’ve just run out.
CUSTOMER
Well, how am I gonna clear stumps and ditches, now?
STORE CLERK
We still got plenty of dynamite.
Epilogue
EXT. CORONER’S OFFICE – DAY
A woman stands outside, hesitant to go in. She almost turns to walk away. She is Andrew Kehoe’s OLDER SISTER, now in her 60s.
She musters up the courage and goes inside.
INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
Kehoe’s older sister enters the coroner’s office.
CORONER
Hello, ma’am. May I help you.
OLDER SISTER
I’m… I’m here to see about…
CORONER
Are you here to see about a body?
Kehoe’s older sister nods.
CORONER
(continued)
Not to worry. I’ve seen a lot of bereavement. Yours is perfectly understandable.
Kehoe’s older seems pained by his words.
OLDER SISTER
I’m… I’m Mr. Kehoe’s…
(bursts into tears)
I’m Mr. Kehoe’s older sister.
CORONER
There, there. Please, sit down.
The coroner holds a seat out for Kehoe’s older sister, who takes it.
OLDER SISTER
I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.
CORONER
There, there, Mrs. Kehoe.
OLDER SISTER
Oh, no… that’s not my name. I married, thank God. Thank God. My brothers… with their name… oh, but we deserve it. We deserve it all.
CORONER
There, there. No one blames you here.
OLDER SISTER
God, I’m so ashamed. What my brother brought to… to all of you… I’m so ashamed. You have every right to hate me. Every right.
CORONER
No one hates you. You didn’t know.
OLDER SISTER
I didn’t. None of us did. Oh God, I’d give my life to bring those children back.
CORONER
There, there, now.
OLDER SISTER
I stood outside. I stood outside so long. I couldn’t come in. How dare I ask for his body? How dare I? Oh God, you must think me a horrible person. Horrible and ungrateful.
CORONER
I don’t. We lived with him, and we didn’t know. It was not your fault. It was not your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his.
Hearing this, Kehoe’s older sister bursts into heavy sobs, and they embrace. She explodes into tears as she lets it all out.
OLDER SISTER
Oh, God. Oh, God, the shame!
CORONER
It wasn’t your fault.
INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – LATER
Kehoe’s older sister, now recovered, is saying goodbye to the coroner.
CORONER
Where will you take him?
OLDER SISTER
To Mount Rest Cemetery. In St. Johns, here in Clinton county. But you won’t tell anyone, will you?
CORONER
I won’t tell a soul. But we’ll have to reveal that his body was claimed. That’s public information. I just won’t say where he was taken.
OLDER SISTER
You can tell them… you can tell the grieving people… he was buried in an unmarked grave, without a ceremony.
CORONER
I’ll do that.
OLDER SISTER
Thank you. You have my condolences. You and this entire town. My deepest condolences.
CORONER
I know. And you mine.
Kehoe’s older sister nods and exits.
EXT. MOUNT REST CEMETERY – LATER
A simple pine box containing Andrew Kehoe’s remains is lowered, by two workmen, into an unmarked grave. They begin piling dirt on top of it.
EXT. MOUNT REST CEMETERY – WINTER
Snow covers the ground, blowing around in the wind. Andrew Kehoe’s older sister comes walking through it, looking around at the ground until she spots where her brother was buried.
OLDER SISTER
I think this was where it was.
She kneels, painfully, over where she thinks her brother was buried.
OLDER SISTER
(continued)
Andrew, I’ve come to speak with you. I’m sorry I haven’t sooner. I just couldn’t. There’s so much to say.
(pause)
I can’t imagine what you caused. All those children. It was evil, Andrew, and I’m glad father didn’t live to see it.
(pause)
I don’t know what was in you, if it was a demon or… you were always an obstinate child. Always, Andrew. But I keep thinking about…
(pause)
You didn’t really know mother. You were so young. I remember her. Our stepmother… God, how you hated her. You fought her every day, about anything. And then there was that fire. The stove. Of course, we never told you, but… some of us thought you’d tinkered with it, made it explode on account of how you hated her so much. You… I always wondered what that did to you. But you were obstinate before that. You were always a difficult child.
(pause)
Oh, you’re dead now, and I’m an old woman, talking to an unmarked grave.
(pause)
I don’t know if I’ll see you in Heaven, Andrew. I hope so. I hope those children are up there, and father too, and you get to see mother again, the only one you really loved. And God knows, I’ll be there shortly. But I know you won’t be there, Andrew. I know you’re in Hell. Burning. And all we can do is watch you. All we ever did was watch.
She struggles to her feet.
OLDER SISTER
(continued)
I have to go now, Andrew. I don’t think I’ll be visiting again. But if you can hear me, I love you anyway. I can’t help it. After all that you did, you’re s
till my brother. And I remember you, back when you were a boy. I’ll try to always remember you that way, not what you did. Goodbye, Andrew.
She walks off, leaving only snow on an unmarked patch of ground.
FADE TO BLACK
ON-SCREEN TITLES
Monty Ellsworth wrote the first book about the attacks, appearing in 1928.
The school was reopened as the James Couzens Agricultural School in late 1928.
In 1975, it was demolished and replaced with a small park.
In 2008, a grant gave tombstones to last victims still lying in unmarked graves, Emilie and Robert Bromundt.
This film is respectfully dedicated to the innocents murdered by Andrew Kehoe.
Second Grade:
G. Cleo Claton, 8 (killed by carbomb)
Third Grade:
Arnold Bauerle, 8
F. Robert Cochran, 8
Ralph Cushman, 7
George Hall, 8
Percy Hart, 11
Vivian Hart, 8
Doris Johns, 8
Thelma MacDonnald, 8
Harold Woodman, 8
George Zimmerman, 10
Fourth Grade:
Herman Bergan, 11
Russell Chapman, 8
Marjorie Fritz, 9
Carlyle Geisenhaver, 9
LaVere Harte, 9
J. Emerson Medcoff, 8
Beatrice Gibbs, 10 (died later due to injuries)
Fifth Grade:
Blanche Harte, 30 (teacher)
Emilie Bromundt, 11
Robert Bromundt, 12
Willa Hall, 11
Pauline Shirts, 10
Elizabeth Witchell, 10
Lucile Witchell, 9
Lloyd Zimmerman, 12
Sixth Grade:
Henry Bergan, 14
Floyd Burnett, 12
Earl Ewing, 11
Katherine Foote, 10
Iola Hart, 12
Gailand Harte, 12
Stanley Harte, 12
Francis Hoeppner, 13
Cecial Hunter, 13
Clarence McFarren, 13
Emma Nickols, 13
Richard Richardson, 12
Elsie Robb, 12
Others:
Emory Huyck, 33 (superintendent)
Ellen Kehoe, 52 (killed earlier on farm)
Nelson McFarren, 74 (retired farmer)
Glenn Smith, 33 (postmaster)
Hazel Weatherby, 21 (teacher)
Full credits follow.