SIX. Down and in. I guess there’s no argument.
(EIGHT picks the knife out of the table and closes it. He flicks it open and, changing its position in his hand, stabs downward with it.)
EIGHT (to SIX). Did you ever stab a man?
SIX. Of course not.
EIGHT (to THREE). Did you?
THREE (loud). No, I didn’t!
EIGHT. Where do you get all your information about how it was done?
THREE. What do you mean? It’s just common sense.
EIGHT. Have you ever seen a man stabbed?
THREE (pauses and looks around the room nervously). No.
EIGHT. All right. I want to ask you something. The boy was an experienced knife fighter. He was even sent to reform school for knifing someone, isn’t that so?
TWELVE. That’s right.
EIGHT. Look at this. (EIGHT closes the knife, flicks it open, and changed the position on the knife so that he can stab overhanded.) Doesn’t it seem like an awkward way to handle a knife?
THREE. What are you asking me for?
(EIGHT closes the blade and flicks it open, holds it ready to slash underhanded.)
FIVE. Wait a minute! Give me that. (He reaches out for the knife.)
EIGHT. Have you ever seen a knife fight?
FIVE. Yes, I have.
EIGHT. In the movies?
FIVE. In my backyard. On my stoop. In the vacant lot across the street. Too many of them. Switch-knives came with the neighborhood where I lived. Funny I didn’t think of it before. I guess you try to forget those things. (Flicking the knife open.) Anyone who’s ever used a switch-knife would never have stabbed downward. You don’t handle a switch-knife that way. You use it underhanded.
EIGHT. Then he couldn’t have made the kind of wound which killed his father.
FIVE. No. He couldn’t have. Not if he’d ever had any experience with switch-knives.
THREE. I don’t believe it.
TEN. Neither do I. You’re giving us a lot of mumbo jumbo.
EIGHT (to TWELVE). What do you think?
TWELVE (hesitantly). Well … I don’t know.
EIGHT (to SEVEN). What about you?
SEVEN. Listen. I’ll tell you something. I’m a little sick of this whole thing already. We’re getting nowhere fast. Let’s break it up and go home. I’m changing my vote to not guilty.
THREE. You’re what?
SEVEN. You heard me. I’ve had enough.
THREE. What do you mean, you’ve had enough? That’s no answer.
ELEVEN (angry). I think perhaps you’re right. This is not an answer. (To SEVEN) What kind of man are you? You have sat here and voted guilty with everyone else because there are some theater tickets burning a hole in your pocket. Now you have changed your vote for the same reason. I do not think you have the right to play like this with a man’s life. This is an ugly and terrible thing to do.
SEVEN. Now, wait a minute … you can’t talk like that to me.
ELEVEN (strong). I can talk like that to you! If you want to vote not guilty, then do it because you are convinced the man is not guilty. If you believe he is guilty, then vote that way. Or don’t you have the … the guts—the guts to do what you think is right?
SEVEN. Now listen …
ELEVEN. Is it guilty or not guilty?
SEVEN (hesitantly). I told you. Not … guilty.
ELEVEN (hard). Why?
SEVEN. I don’t have to—
ELEVEN. You have to! Say it! Why?
(They stare at each other for a long while.)
SEVEN (low). I … don’t think … he’s guilty.
EIGHT (fast). I want another vote.
FOREMAN. Okay, there’s another vote called for. I guess the quickest way is a show of hands. Anybody object? (No one does.) All right. All those voting not guilty, raise your hands.