SIX. I think that’s possible.
THREE (infuriated). Assumed? Now, listen to me you people. I’ve seen all kinds of dishonesty in my day … but this little display takes the cake. (To FOUR) Tell him, will you?
(FOUR sits silently. THREE looks at him and then he strides over to EIGHT.)
THREE. You come in here with your heart bleeding all over the floor about slum kids and injustice but you make up these wild stories, and you’ve got some soft-hearted old ladies listening to you. Well I’m not. I’m getting real sick of it. (To all) What’s the matter with you people? This kid is guilty! He’s got to burn! We’re letting him slip through our fingers here.
EIGHT (calmly). Our fingers? Are you his executioner?
THREE (raging). I’m one of them.
EIGHT. Perhaps you’d like to pull the switch.
THREE (shouting). For this kid? You’d bet I’d like to pull the switch!
EIGHT. I’m sorry for you.
THREE (shouting). Don’t start with me.
EIGHT. What it must feel like to want to pull the switch!
THREE. Shut up!
EIGHT. You’re a sadist.
THREE (louder). Shut up!
EIGHT (strong). You want to see this boy die because you personally want it—not because of the facts.
THREE (shouting). Shut up!
(He lunges at EIGHT, but is caught by two of the JURORS and held. He struggles as EIGHT watches calmly.)
THREE (screaming). Let me go! I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him!
EIGHT (softly). You don’t really mean you’ll kill me, do you?
(THREE stops struggling now and stares at EIGHT. All the JURORS watch in silence as we fade out.)
Act III
Fade in on same scene. No time lapse. THREE glares angrily at EIGHT. He is still held by two JURORS. After a long pause, he shakes himself loose and turns away. He walks to the windows. The other JURORS stand around the room now, shocked by his display of anger. There is silence. Then the door opens and the GUARD enters. He looks around the room.
GUARD. Is there anything wrong, gentlemen? I heard some noise.
FOREMAN. No. There’s nothing wrong. (He points to the large diagram of the apartment.) You can take that back. We’re finished with it.
(The GUARD nods and takes the diagram. He looks curiously at some of the JURORS and exits. The JURORS still are silent. Some of them slowly begin to sit down. THREE still stands at the window. He turns around now. The JURORS look at him.)
THREE (loud). Well, what are you looking at?
(They turn away. He goes back to his seat now. Silently the rest of the JURORS take their seats. TWELVE begins to doodle. TEN blows his nose, but no one speaks. Then, finally—)
FOUR. I don’t see why we have to behave like children here.
ELEVEN. Nor do I. We have a responsibility. This is a remarkable thing about democracy. That we are … what is the word? … Ah, notified! That we are notified by mail to come down to this place and decide on the guilt or innocence of a man we have not known before. We have nothing to gain or lose by our verdict. This is one of the reasons why we are strong. We should not make it a personal thing.
(There is a long, awkward pause.)
TWELVE. Well—we’re still nowhere. Who’s got an idea?
SIX. I think maybe we should try another vote. Mr. Foreman?
FOREMAN. It’s all right with me. Anybody doesn’t want to vote?
(He looks around the table.)
SEVEN. All right, let’s do it.
THREE. I want an open ballot. Let’s call out our votes. I want to know who stands where.
FOREMAN. That sounds fair. Anyone object? (No one does.) All right. I’ll call off your jury numbers.
(He takes a pencil and paper and makes marks now in one of two columns after each vote.)
FOREMAN. I vote guilty. Number two?
TWO. Not guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Three?
THREE. Guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Four?
FOUR. Guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Five?
FIVE. Not guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Six?
SIX. Not guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Seven?
SEVEN. Guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Eight?
EIGHT. Not guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Nine?
NINE. Not guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Ten?
TEN. Guilty.
FOREMAN. Number Eleven?
ELEVEN. Not guilty.