Henry Smithson won his first Oscar for Best Documentary – Short Subject in 1997. He followed this first win with subsequent Oscars in 2001, 2003, and 2007.

His last project on homeless gay youth was a modest commercial success in terms of total audience, but in terms of project cost and revenue, it was a smashing success for his investors. Most important to Henry, many children were now in a spotlight and receiving care. To Henry, he would trade all the Oscars for this sort of result.

After a year’s respite from film making, he was once again ready to go. Always on the look out for an unknown story that has the potential to enthral viewers, he settled upon telling the stories of a few transgendered people.

With his newest undertaking, Henry’s intent was to show the world that transfolk are in fact just like everyone else in many ways, and different only in the sense every human being on earth is unique. There were incredible human-interest stories to tell – sometimes things went right, sometimes people were struggling against an overwhelming tide that was coming at them. Maybe, just maybe, he could change this a little.

The first place to start on the project would be gaining background knowledge of the issue, of which Henry was admittedly woefully ignorant. Setting out to rectify this, over the past month, he followed an online trail of therapists and transfolk, and from this acquired information and distilled it down into one name: Dolores O’Brien in New Hampshire.

Dolores’ practice was in a small rural town in northern New Hampshire, an ideal setting for slowing the pace of a story and getting into the usually glossed over nuances.

Henry worked with minimal staff; he preferred to make his own arrangements. Picking up the phone, he dialled the number to Dolores’ office. One ring, two rings; on the third ring, a pleasant voice came on “Dr. O’Brien’s office. Susan speaking; how may I help you?”

“Hello, Susan. This is Henry Smithson. Would it be possible for me to speak with Dr. O’Brien?”

“May I inquire after your purpose?” Susan was very protective of her employer.

“Surely. I make short subject documentaries, and have won 4 Oscars for best short subject documentary. I’m interested in making one on transfolk.” Henry liked the tone of Susan’s voice and her professional manner, and so he trusted her with the basic idea.

“Mr. Smithson, I am unfamiliar with your work, but your record sounds impressive. Dolores is with a client at the moment, but she can return your call on the hour.”

“Would you please have her call me then? I’d be most appreciative!” Henry sincerely replied. He then followed with his contact information, thanked Susan, and ended the call.

As if on cue, Dolores rang him 24 minutes later. They exchanged pleasantries, and then Dolores mentioned what Susan told her. “What is it you desire from me? Would it be background information, a syllabus of reading material, and snippets of information on clients? Please know I cannot reveal patient information due to professional ethics and HIPAA law.”

“Actually, all of those things, but on patients I’d actually like to select a few and meet with them, let them tell their stories – with their consent of course. In addition, I’d like to have you set with each of them for a short interview, where you might provide inside as you feel is appropriate.” Henry was always forthright in his dealings, and his intent was to assist, not harm.

“I’d like to discuss that element with you in depth, Henry. I saw your last documentary, it was excellent and accurate film making… but I do not know you, have no baseline to go on in deciding whether you are trustworthy.

I will ask clients who would be a good fit for your film and well represent the community, and will let them decide – after they meet with both of us together. I warn you that I’ll repeat what I’ve just said when we meet.” Dolores guarded her patients ferociously, and she would do so throughout this process.

“I sense you have at least one person in mind Dolores, and that makes sense that you would know them so well. I would like to meet with you at your convenience. I will also promise right now that I will not release this film unless your patients agree to allow it to proceed. Fair enough?” Henry finished his spiel.

“I’ll agree to that approach, Henry. Can you be here one week from today? If so, I’ll clear my morning schedule, invite three patients to come in, and we’ll talk about your plan.” Dolores was guardedly in. “Oh, and one more thing. One the patients I would like to invite is going through a rather rough time in the moment. Please appreciate the sensitivity of what we will discuss.”

“Next Thursday at…?” he searched for the arrival time.

“Be here at 8:00 am.” Dolores quickly interjected.

“Wow, you start early! I’ll be there.” Henry closed the appointment.

“A typical schedule for me, Henry; often I’m here until 8 at night. Enjoy your day, and we will see you next Thursday.” Dolores ended the call, already wondering if she made the right choice.