12 angry men conflict and negotiation

Assignment 6.1 - Twelve Angry Men

Revisit the video of Twelve Angry Men

· Based on the assigned reading in Week 6, who used power to sway others?

· What was the outcome? What role did emotions play in the negotiation process?

· List and discuss all emotions that you can identify.

· What role did culture play in the negotiation process?

· Analyze the situation using the concepts of power, emotions, and culture, and write at least a one-page paper describing how these three theories apply to and impact the outcome of the negotiation among the jurors.

· if you Google 12 Angry Men 1957 you can get a free version.

Folks,

The directions for completion of the original analysis on the movie 12-Angry Men are as follows:

Use the video “Twelve Angry Men” as a case study and analyze how influence and persuasion played a role in the outcome of this trial. Henry Fonda negotiates with each of the 11 jurors. Pick three pairs of negotiations and analyze the dynamics. Fonda should be in two of the pairs. Write a three-to-four page paper that addresses at least the following:

· The interests of the parties involved

· What negotiation styles are used?

· The relationship dynamics (emotions, face, and ethics)

· The resources and constraints

· The bargaining objectives and issues (interests)

· The BATNA

· The issue of social influence and persuasion

Many students failed to address all seven concepts. Some of you wrote an analysis of the movie as a whole and failed to address the three pairs of negotiations. Many overcomplicated an already complex assignment. Most everyone missed the correct answer to BATNA.

The course designer made a mistake and I apologize for not catching it. No one was penalized for the flawed instructions. Some of you caught the mistake and read ahead and completed the assignment correctly. Here was the error. Bullet number two had you address negotiation styles which is covered in Reardon (2005) chapter four. The reading of that chapter was not assigned in week-4 so unless you read ahead, you could not complete the assignment accurately. As a result many students guessed at what a negotiation style was and confused it with "conflict styles."

In reality the correct term should have been "negotiation strategies" which points to what we have been discussing: a) distributive and b) integrative strategies which is a process. Negotiation styles are a type of behavior, not a process. Reardon (2005) actually coins the term negotiation styles by combining behavior assessments characteristics like DISC, TKI, and FIRO-B into a description on how folks normally behave in a negotiation environment.

In 12-Angry Men, the jury as a whole did not have a BATNA because the jury as a whole was not negotiating with another person or group. The parties of each pair of negotiations had a BATNA, which were all the same ... vote their consciousness. Voting what they believed was the correct vote may have resulted in a hung jury or a unanimous verdict ... but a hung jury was not the BATNA because the jurors didn't have control over how the other jurors voted. Remember you must have complete control over the action you take in order for it to be a BATNA. BATNA is not a negotiation option ... it is the "single best" action you can take AFTER the negotiation fails.

I have attached Pete's analysis. It is not perfect, but it is an excellent example of how to logically address many issues in a complex analysis in a clear and concise manner. Some of you got lost in the storytelling of the movie and I fear as a result, did not address all seven concepts of the assignment. Pete's process is not the only option. I included Cristin's paper as well so you can see another technique of logical flow that purposely addressed all seven concepts.

This week make sure you address all of the project criteria as you reanalyze the movie 12-Angry Men.

“Twelve Angry Men” by Reginald Rose
DESCRIPTIONS OF JURORS

FOREMAN

A small, petty man who is impressed with the authority he has and handles himself quite formally. Not overly bright, but dogged.

JUROR NUMBER TWO

A meek, hesitant man who finds it difficult to maintain any opinions of his own. Easily swayed and usually adopts the opinion of the last person to whom he has spoken.

JUROR NUMBER THREE

A very strong, very forceful, extremely opinionated man within whom can be detected a streak of sadism. A humorless man who is intolerant of opinions other than his own and accustomed to forcing his wishes and views upon others.

JUROR NUMBER FOUR

Seems to be a man of wealth and position. A practiced speaker who presents himself well at all times. Seems to feel a little bit above the rest of the jurors. His only concern is with the facts in this case, and he is appalled at the behavior of the others.

JUROR NUMBER FIVE

A naïve, very frightened young man who takes his obligations in this case very seriously, but who finds it difficult to speak up when his elders have the floor.

JUROR NUMBER SIX

An honest but dull-witted man who comes upon his decisions slowly and carefully. A man who finds it difficult to create positive opinions, but who must listen to and digest and accept those opinions offered by others which appeal to him most.

JUROR NUMBER SEVEN

A loud, flashy, glad-handed salesman type who has more important things to do than to sit on a jury. He is quick to show temper, quick to form opinions on things about which he knows nothing. Is a bully and, of course, a coward.

JUROR NUMBER EIGHT

A quiet, thoughtful, gentle man. A man who sees all sides of every question and constantly seeks the truth. A man of strength tempered with compassion. Above all, a man who wants justice to be done and will fight to see that it is.

JUROR NUMBER NINE

A mild, gentle old man, long since defeated by life and now merely waiting to die. A man who recognizes himself for what he is and mourns the days when it would have been possible to be courageous without shielding himself behind his many years.

JUROR NUMBER TEN

An angry, bitter man. A man who antagonizes almost at sight. A bigot who places no values on any human life save his own. A man who has been nowhere and is going nowhere and knows it deep within him.

JUROR NUMBER ELEVEN

A refugee from Europe who had come to this country in 1941. A man who speaks with an accent and who is ashamed, humble, almost subservient to the people around him, but who will honestly seek justice because he has suffered through so much injustice.

JUROR NUMBER TWELVE

A slick, bright advertising man who thinks of human beings in terms of percentages, graphs, and polls and has no real understanding of people. A superficial snob, but trying to be a good fellow.

Act I

Fade in on a jury box. Twelve men are seated in it, listening intently to the voice of the JUDGE as he charges them. We do not see the JUDGE. He speaks in slow, measured tones and his voice is grave. The camera drifts over the faces of the JURYMEN as the JUDGE speaks and we see that most of their heads are turned to camera’s left. SEVEN looks down at his hands. THREE looks off in another direction, the direction in which the defendant would be sitting. TEN keeps moving his head back and forth nervously. The JUDGE drones on.

JUDGE. Murder in the first degree—premeditated homicide—is the most serious charge tried in our criminal courts. You’ve heard a long and complex case, gentlemen, and it is now your duty to sit down to try and separate the facts from the fancy. One man is dead. The life of another is at stake. If there is a reasonable doubt in your minds as to the guilt of the accused … then you must declare him not guilty. If, however, there is no reasonable doubt, then he must be found guilty. Whichever way you decide, the verdict must be unanimous. I urge you to deliberate honestly and thoughtfully. You are faced with a grave responsibility. Thank you, gentlemen.

(There is a long pause.)

CLERK (droning.) The jury will retire.

(And now, slowly, almost hesitantly, the members of the jury begin to rise. Awkwardly, they file out of the jury box and off camera to the left. Camera holds on the jury box, then fades out.)

(Fade in on a large, bare, unpleasant-looking room. This is the jury room in the county criminal court of a large Eastern city. It is about 4:00 P.M. The room is furnished with a long conference table and a dozen chairs. The walls are bare, drab, and badly in need of a fresh coat of paint. Along one wall is a row of windows which look out on the skyline of the city’s financial district. High on another wall is an electric clock. A washroom opens off the jury room. In one corner of the room is a water fountain. On the table are pads, pencils, ashtrays. One of the windows is open. Papers blow across the table and on to the floor as the door opens. Lettered on the outside of the door are the words “Jury Room.” A uniformed GUARD holds the door open. Slowly, almost self-consciously, the twelve JURORS file in. The GUARD counts them as they enter the door, his lips moving, but no sound coming forth. Four or five of the JURORS light cigarettes as they enter the room. FIVE lights his pipe, which he smokes constantly throughout the play. TWO and TWELVE go to the water fountain, NINE goes into the washroom, the door of which is lettered “Men.” Several of the JURORS take seats at the table. Others stand awkwardly around the room. Several look out the windows. These are men who are ill at ease, who do not really know each other to talk to, and who wish they were anywhere but here. SEVEN, standing at the window, takes out a pack of gum, takes a piece, and offers it around. There are no takers. He mops his brow.)

SEVEN (to SIX). Y’know something? It’s hot. (SIX nods.) You’d think they’d at least air-condition the place. I almost dropped dead in court.

(SEVEN opens the window a bit wider. The GUARD looks them over and checks his count. Then, satisfied, he makes ready to leave.)

GUARD. Okay, gentlemen. Everybody’s here. If there’s anything you want, I’m right outside. Just knock. (He exits, closing the door. Silently they all look at the door. We hear the lock clicking.)

FIVE. I never knew they locked the door.

TEN (blowing nose). Sure, they lock the door. What did you think?

FIVE. I don’t know. It just never occurred to me.

(Some of the JURORS are taking off their jackets. Others are sitting down at the table. They still are reluctant to talk to each other. FOREMAN is at head of table, tearing slips of paper for ballots. Now we get a close shot of EIGHT. He looks out the window. We hear THREE talking to TWO.)

THREE. Six days. They should have finished it in two. Talk, talk, talk. Did you ever hear so much talk about nothing?

TWO (nervously laughing). Well … I guess … they’re entitled.

THREE. Everybody gets a fair trial. (He shakes his head.) That’s the system. Well, I suppose you can’t say anything against it.

(TWO looks at him nervously, nods, and goes over to water cooler. Cut to shot of EIGHT staring out window. Cut to table. SEVEN stands at the table, putting out a cigarette.)

SEVEN (to TEN). How did you like that business about the knife? Did you ever hear a phonier story?

TEN (wisely). Well, look, you’ve gotta expect that. You know what you’re dealing with.

SEVEN. Yeah, I suppose. What’s the matter, you got a cold?

TEN (blowing). A lulu. These hot-weather colds can kill you.

(SEVEN nods sympathetically.)

FOREMAN (briskly). All right, gentleman. Let’s take our seats.

SEVEN. Right. This better be fast. I’ve got tickets to The Seven Year Itch tonight. I must be the only guy in the whole world who hasn’t seen it yet. (He laughs and sits down.) Okay, your honor, start the show.

(They all begin to sit down. The FOREMAN is seated at the head of the table. EIGHT continues to look out the window.)

FOREMAN (to EIGHT). How about sitting down? (EIGHT doesn’t hear him.) The gentleman at the window. (EIGHT turns, startled.)

FOREMAN. How about sitting down?

EIGHT. Oh, I’m sorry.

(He heads for a seat.)

TEN (to SIX). It’s tough to figure, isn’t it? A kid kills his father. Bing! Just like that. Well, it’s the element. They let the kids run wild. Maybe it serves ‘em right.

FOREMAN. Is everybody here?

TWELVE. The old man’s inside.

(The FOREMAN turns to the washroom just as the door opens. NINE comes out, embarrassed.)

FOREMAN. We’d like to get started.

NINE. Forgive me, gentlemen. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.

FOREMAN. It’s all right. Find a seat.

(NINE heads for a seat and sits down. They look at the FOREMAN expectantly.)

FOREMAN. All right. Now, you gentlemen can handle this any way you want to. I mean, I’m not going to make any rules. If we want to discuss it first and then vote, that’s one way. Or we can vote right now to see how we stand.

SEVEN. Let’s vote now. Who knows, maybe we can all go home.

TEN. Yeah. Let’s see who’s where.

THREE. Right. Let’s vote now.

FOREMAN. Anybody doesn’t want to vote?

(He looks around the table. There is no answer.)

Okay, all those voting guilty raise your hands.

(Seven or eight hands go up immediately. Several others go up more slowly. Everyone looks around the table. There are two hands not raised, NINE’s and EIGHT’s. NINE’s hand goes up slowly now as the FOREMAN counts.)

FOREMAN. . . . Nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . That’s eleven for guilty. Okay. Not guilty? (EIGHT’s hand is raised.) One. Right. Okay. Eleven to one, guilty. Now we know where we are.

THREE. Somebody’s in left field. (To EIGHT) You think he’s not guilty?

EIGHT (quietly). I don’t know.

THREE. I never saw a guiltier man in my life. You sat right in court and heard the same thing I did. The man’s a dangerous killer. You could see it.

EIGHT. He’s nineteen years old.

THREE. That’s old enough. He knifed his own father. Four inches into the chest. An innocent nineteen-year-old kid. They proved it a dozen different ways. Do you want me to list them?

EIGHT. No.

TEN (to EIGHT). Well, do you believe his story?

EIGHT. I don’t know whether I believe it or not. Maybe I don’t.

SEVEN. So what’d you vote not guilty for?

EIGHT. There were eleven votes for guilty. It’s not so easy for me to raise my hand and send a boy off to die without talking about it first.

SEVEN. Who says it’s easy for me?

EIGHT. No one.

SEVEN. What, just because I voted fast? I think the guy’s guilty. You couldn’t change my mind if you talked for a hundred years.

EIGHT. I don’t want to change your mind. I just want to talk for a while. Look, this boy’s been kicked around all his life. You know, living in a slum, his mother dead since he was nine. That’s not a very good head start. He’s a tough, angry kid. You know why slum kids get that way? Because we knock ‘em on the head once a day, every day. I think maybe we owe him a few words. That’s all.

(He looks around the table. Some of them look back coldly. Some cannot look at him. Only NINE nods slowly. TWELVE doodles steadily. FOUR begins to comb his hair.)

TEN. I don’t mind telling you this, mister. We don’t owe him a thing. He got a fair trial, didn’t he? You know what that trial cost? He’s lucky he got it. Look, we’re all grownups here. You’re not going to tell us that we’re supposed to believe him, knowing what he is. I’ve lived among ‘em all my life. You can’t believe a word they say. You know that.

NINE (to TEN very slowly). I don’t know that. What a terrible thing for a man to believe! Since when is dishonesty a group characteristic? You have no monopoly on the truth—

THREE (interrupting). All right. It’s not Sunday. We don’t need a sermon.

NINE. What this man says is very dangerous—

(EIGHT puts his hand on NINE’s arm and stops him. Somehow his touch and his gentle expression calm the old man. He draws a deep breath and relaxes.)

FOUR. I don’t see any need for arguing like this. I think we ought to be able to behave like gentlemen.

SEVEN. Right!

FOUR. If we’re going to discuss this case, let’s discuss the facts.

FOREMAN. I think that’s a good point. We have a job to do. Let’s do it.

ELEVEN (with accent). If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m going to close the window. (He gets up and does so.) (Apologetically) It was blowing on my neck. (TEN blows his nose fiercely.)

TWELVE. I may have an idea here. I’m just thinking out loud now, but it seems to me that it’s up to us to convince this gentleman—(indicating EIGHT)—that we’re right and he’s wrong. Maybe if we each took a minute or two you know, try it on for size—

FOREMAN. That sounds fair enough. Supposing we go once around the table.

SEVEN. Okay, let’s start it off.

FOREMAN. Right. (To TWO) I guess you’re first.

TWO (timidly). Oh. Well … (Long pause) I just think he’s guilty. I thought it was obvious. I mean nobody proved otherwise.

EIGHT (quietly). Nobody has to prove otherwise. The burden of proof is on the prosecution. The defendant doesn’t have to open his mouth. That’s in the Constitution. The Fifth Amendment. You’ve heard of it.

TWO (flustered). Well, sure, I’ve heard of it. I know what it is. I … what I meant … well, anyway, I think he was guilty.

THREE. Okay, let’s get to the facts. Number one, let’s take the old man who lived on the second floor right underneath the room where the murder took place. At ten minutes after twelve on the night of the killing he heard loud noises in the upstairs apartment. He said it sounded like a fight. Then he heard the kid say to his father, “I’m gonna kill you.” A second later he heard a body falling, and he ran to the door of his apartment, looked out, and saw the kid running down the stairs and out of the house. Then he called the police. They found the father with a knife in his chest.

FOREMAN. And the coroner fixed the time of death at around midnight.

THREE. Right. Now what else do you want?

FOUR. The boy’s entire story is flimsy. He claimed he was at the movies. That’s a little ridiculous, isn’t it? He couldn’t even remember what pictures he saw.

THREE. That’s right. Did you hear that? (To FOUR) You’re absolutely right.

TEN. Look, what about the woman across the street? If her testimony doesn’t prove it, then nothing does.

TWELVE. That’s right. She saw the killing, didn’t she?

FOREMAN. Let’s go in order.

TEN (loud). Just a minute. Here’s a woman who’s lying in bed and can’t sleep. It’s hot, you know. (He gets up and begins to walk around, blowing his nose and talking.) Anyway, she looks out the window, and right across the street she sees the kid stick the knife into his father. She’s known the kid all his life. His window is right opposite hers, across the el tracks, and she swore she saw him do it.

EIGHT. Through the windows of a passing elevated train.

TEN. Okay. And they proved in court that you can look through the windows of a passing el train at night and see what’s happening on the other side. They proved it.

EIGHT. I’d like to ask you something. How come you believed her? She’s one of “them” too, isn’t she?

(TEN walks over to EIGHT.)

TEN. You’re a pretty smart fellow, aren’t you?

FOREMAN (rising). Now take it easy.

(THREE gets up and goes to TEN.)

THREE. Come on. Sit down. (He leads TEN back to his seat.) What’re you letting him get you all upset for? Relax.

FOREMAN. Let’s calm down now. (To FIVE) It’s your turn.

FIVE. I’ll pass it.

FOREMAN. That’s your privilege. (To SIX) How about you?

SIX (slowly). I don’t know. I started to be convinced, you know, with the testimony from those people across the hall. Didn’t they say something about an argument between the father and the boy around seven o’clock that night? I mean, I can be wrong.

ELEVEN. I think it was eight o’clock. Not seven.

EIGHT. That’s right. Eight o’clock. They heard the father hit the boy twice and then saw the boy walk angrily out of the house. What does that prove?

SIX. Well, it doesn’t exactly prove anything. It’s just part of the picture. I didn’t say it proved anything.

FOREMAN. Anything else?

SIX. No.

(SIX goes to the water fountain.)

FOREMAN (to SEVEN). All right. How about you?

SEVEN. I don’t know, most of it’s been said already. We can talk all day about this thing but I think we’re wasting our time. Look at the kid’s record. At fifteen he was in reform school. He stole a car. He’s been arrested for mugging. He was picked up for knife-fighting. I think they said he stabbed somebody in the arm. This is a very fine boy.

EIGHT. Ever since he was five years old his father beat him up regularly. He used his fists.

SEVEN. So would I! A kid like that.

THREE. You’re right. It’s the kids. The way they are—you know? They don’t listen. (Bitter) I’ve got a kid. When he was eight years old he ran away from a fight. I saw him. I was so ashamed. I told him right out, “I’m gonna make a man out of you or I’m gonna bust you up into little pieces trying.” When he was fifteen he hit me in the face. He’s big, you know. I haven’t seen him in three years. Rotten kid! You work your heart out . . . (Pause) All right. Let’s get on with it. (Looks away, embarrassed.)

FOUR. We’re missing the point here. This boy—let’s say he’s a product of a filthy neighborhood and a broken home. We can’t help that. We’re not here to go into the reasons why slums are breeding grounds for criminals. They are. I know it. So do you. The children who come out of slum backgrounds are potential menaces to society.

TEN. You said it there. I don’t want any part of them, believe me.

(There is a dead silence for a moment, and then FIVE speaks haltingly.)

FIVE. I’ve lived in a slum all my life—

TEN. Oh, now wait a second!

FIVE. I used to play in a back yard that was filled with garbage. Maybe it still smells on me.

FOREMAN. Now let’s be reasonable. There’s nothing personal—(FIVE stands up.)

FIVE. There is something personal!

(Then he catches himself and, seeing everyone looking at him, sits down, fists clenched.)

THREE (persuasively). Come on, now. He didn’t mean you, feller. Let’s not be so sensitive….

(There is a long pause.)

ELEVEN. I can understand his sensitivity.

FOREMAN. Now let’s stop the bickering. We’re wasting time. (To EIGHT) It’s your turn.

EIGHT. All right. I had a peculiar feeling about this trial. Somehow I felt that the defense counsel never really conducted a thorough cross-examination. I mean, he was appointed by the court to defend the boy. He hardly seemed interested. Too many questions were left unasked.

THREE (annoyed). What about the ones that were asked? For instance, let’s talk about that cute little switch-knife. You know, the one that fine up-right kid admitted buying.

EIGHT. All right. Let’s talk about it. Let’s get it in here and look at it. I’d like to see it again, Mr. Foreman.

(The FOREMAN looks at him questioningly and then gets up and goes to the door. During the following dialogue the FOREMAN knocks, the GUARD comes in, the FOREMAN whispers to him, the GUARD nods and leaves, locking the door.)

THREE. We all know what it looks like. I don’t see why we have to look at it again. (To FOUR) What do you think?

FOUR. The gentleman has a right to see exhibits in evidence.

THREE (shrugging). Okay with me.

FOUR (to EIGHT). This knife is a pretty strong piece of evidence, don’t you agree?

EIGHT. I do.

FOUR. The boy admits going out of his house at eight o’clock after being slapped by his father.

EIGHT. Or punched.

FOUR. Or punched. He went to a neighborhood store and bought a switch-knife. The storekeeper was arrested the following day when he admitted selling it to the boy. It’s a very unusual knife. The storekeeper identified it and said it was the only one of its kind he had in stock. Why did the boy get it? (Sarcastically) As a present for a friend of his, he says. Am I right so far?

EIGHT. Right.

THREE. You bet he’s right. (To all) Now listen to this man. He knows what he’s talking about.

FOUR. Next, the boy claims that on the way home the knife must have fallen through a hole in his coat pocket, that he never saw it again. Now there’s a story, gentlemen. You know what actually happened. The boy took the knife home and a few hours later stabbed his father with it and even remembered to wipe off the fingerprints.

(The door opens and the GUARD walks in with an oddly designed knife with a tag on it. FOUR gets up and takes it from him. The GUARD exits.)

FOUR. Everyone connected with the case identified this knife. Now are you trying to tell me that someone picked it up off the street and went to the boy’s house and stabbed his father with it just to be amusing?

EIGHT. No. I’m saying that it’s possible that the boy lost the knife and that someone else stabbed his father with a similar knife. It’s possible.

(FOUR flips open the knife and jams it into the table.)

FOUR. Take a look at the knife. It’s a very strange knife. I’ve never seen one like it before in my life. Neither had the storekeeper who sold it to him.

(EIGHT reaches casually into his pocket and withdraws an object. No one notices this. He stands up quietly.)

FOUR. Aren’t you trying to make us accept a pretty incredible coincidence?

EIGHT. I’m not trying to make anyone accept it. I’m just saying it’s possible.

THREE (shouting). And I’m saying it’s not possible.

(EIGHT swiftly flicks open the blade of the switch-knife and quickly jams it into the table next to the first one. They are exactly alike. There are several gasps and everyone stares at the knife. There is a long silence.)

THREE (slowly, amazed). What are you trying to do?

TEN (loud). Yeah, what is this? Who do you think you are?

FIVE. Look at it! It’s the same knife!

FOREMAN. Quiet! Let’s be quiet!

(They quiet down.)

FOUR. Where did you get it?

EIGHT. I got it last night in a little junk shop around the corner from the boy’s house. It cost two dollars.

THREE. Now listen to me! You pulled a real smart trick here, but you proved absolutely zero. Maybe there are ten knives like that, so what?

EIGHT. Maybe there are.

THREE. The boy lied and you know it.

EIGHT. He may have lied. (To TEN) Do you think he lied?

TEN (violently). Now that’s a stupid question. Sure he lied!

EIGHT (to FOUR). Do you?

FOUR. You don’t have to ask me that. You know my answer. He lied.

EIGHT (to FIVE). Do you think he lied?

(FIVE can’t answer immediately. He looks around nervously.)

FIVE. I … I don’t know.

SEVEN. Now wait a second. What are you, the guy’s lawyer? Listen, there are still eleven of us who think he’s guilty. You’re alone. What do you think you’re going to accomplish? If you want to be stubborn and hang this jury he’ll be tried again and found guilty, sure as he’s born.

EIGHT. You’re probably right.

SEVEN. So what are you going to do about it? We can be here all night.

NINE. It’s only one night. A man may die.

(SEVEN glances at NINE for a long while, but has no answer. EIGHT looks closely at NINE and we can begin to sense a rapport between them. There is a long silence. Then suddenly everyone begins to talk at once.)

THREE. Well, whose fault is that?

SIX. Do you think maybe if we went over it again? What I mean is—

TEN. Did anyone force him to kill his father? (To THREE) How do you like him? Like someone forced him!

ELEVEN. Perhaps this is not the point.

FIVE. No one forced anyone. But listen—

TWELVE. Look, gentlemen, we can spitball all night here.

TWO. Well, I was going to say—

SEVEN. Just a minute. Some of us’ve got better things to do than sit around a jury room.

FOUR. I can’t understand a word in here. Why do we all have to talk at once?

FOREMAN. He’s right. I think we ought to get on with it.

(EIGHT has been listening to this exchange closely.)

THREE (to EIGHT). Well, what do you say? You’re the one holding up the show.

EIGHT (standing). I’ve got a proposition to make.

(We catch a close shot of FIVE looking steadily at him as he talks. FIVE, seemingly puzzled, listens closely.)

EIGHT. I want to call for a vote. I want you eleven men to vote by secret ballot. I’ll abstain. If there are still eleven votes for guilty, I won’t stand alone. We’ll take in a guilty verdict right now.

SEVEN. Okay. Let’s do it.

FOREMAN. That sounds fair. Is everyone agreed?

(They all nod their heads. EIGHT walks over to the window, looks out for a moment and then faces them.)

FOREMAN. Pass these along.

(The FOREMAN passes ballot slips to all of them, and now EIGHT watches them tensely as they begin to write.)

(Fade out)

Act II
Fade in on same scene, no time lapse. EIGHT stands tensely watching as the JURORS write on their ballots. He stays perfectly still as one by one they fold the ballots and pass them along to the FOREMAN. The FOREMAN takes them, riffles through the folded ballots, counts eleven and now begins to open them. He reads each one out loud and lays it aside. They watch him quietly, and all we hear is his voice and the sound of TWO sucking on a cough drop.

FOREMAN. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

(He pauses at the tenth ballot and then reads it.) Not Guilty. (THREE slams down hard on the table. The FOREMAN opens the last ballot.) Guilty.

TEN (angry). How do you like that!

SEVEN. Who was it? I think we have a right to know.

ELEVEN. Excuse me. This was a secret ballot. We agreed on this point, no? If the gentleman wants it to remain secret—

THREE (standing up angrily). What do you mean? There are no secrets in here! I know who it was. (He turns to FIVE.) What’s the matter with you? You come in here and you vote guilty and then this slick preacher starts to tear your heart out with stories about a poor little kid who just couldn’t help becoming a murderer. So you change your vote. If that isn’t the most sickening—

(FIVE stares at THREE, frightened at this outburst.)

FOREMAN. Now hold it.

THREE. Hold it? We’re trying to put a guilty man into the chair where he belongs—and all of a sudden we’re paying attention to fairy tales.

FIVE. Now just a minute—

ELEVEN. Please. I would like to say something here. I have always thought that a man was entitled to have unpopular opinions in this country. This is the reason I came here. I wanted to have the right to disagree. In my own country, I am ashamed to say—

TEN. What do we have to listen to now—the whole history of your country?

SEVEN. Yeah, let’s stick to the subject. (To FIVE) I want to ask you what made you change your vote.

(There is a long pause as SEVEN and FIVE eye each other angrily.)

NINE (quietly). There’s nothing for him to tell you. He didn’t change his vote. I did. (There is a pause.) Maybe you’d like to know why.

THREE. No, we wouldn’t like to know why.

FOREMAN. The man wants to talk.

NINE. Thank you. (Pointing at EIGHT) This gentleman chose to stand alone against us. That’s his right. It takes a great deal of courage to stand alone even if you believe in something very strongly. He left the verdict up to us. He gambled for support and I gave it to him. I want to hear more. The vote is ten to two.

TEN. That’s fine. If the speech is over, let’s go on.

(FOREMAN gets up, goes to the door, knocks, hands GUARD the tagged switch-knife and sits down again.)

THREE (to FIVE). Look, buddy, I was a little excited. Well, you know how it is. I … I didn’t mean to get nasty. Nothing personal. (FIVE looks at him.)

SEVEN (to EIGHT). Look, supposing you answer me this. If the kid didn’t kill him, who did?

EIGHT. As far as I know, we’re supposed to decide whether or not the boy on trial is guilty. We’re not concerned with anyone else’s motives here.

NINE. Guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. This is an important thing to remember.

THREE (to TEN). Everyone’s a lawyer. (To NINE) Supposing you explain what your reasonable doubts are.

NINE. This is not easy. So far, it’s only a feeling I have. A feeling. Perhaps you don’t understand.

TEN. A feeling! What are we gonna do, spend the night talking about your feelings? What about the facts?

THREE. You said a mouthful. (To NINE) Look, the old man heard the kid yell, “I’m gonna kill you.” A second later he heard the father’s body falling and he saw the boy running out of the house fifteen seconds after that.

TWELVE. That’s right. And let’s not forget the woman across the street. She looked into the open window and saw the boy stab his father. She saw it. Now if that’s not enough for you …

EIGHT. It’s not enough for me.

SEVEN. How do you like him? It’s like talking into a dead phone.

FOUR. The woman saw the killing through the window of a moving elevated train. The train had five cars, and she saw it through the windows of the last two. She remembers the most insignificant details.

(Cut to close shot of TWELVE who doodles a picture of an el train on a scrap of paper.)

THREE. Well, what have you got to say about that?

EIGHT. I don’t know. It doesn’t sound right to me.

THREE. Well, supposing you think about it. (To TWELVE) Lend me your pencil.

(TWELVE gives it to him. He draws a tick-tack-toe square on the same sheet of paper on which TWELVE has drawn the train. He fills in an X, hands the pencil to TWELVE.)

THREE. Your turn. We might as well pass the time.

(TWELVE takes the pencil. EIGHT stands up and snatches the paper away. THREE leaps up.)

THREE. Wait a minute!

EIGHT (hard). This isn’t a game.

THREE (angry). Who do you think you are?

SEVEN (rising). All right, let’s take it easy.

THREE. I’ve got a good mind to walk around this table and belt him one!

FOREMAN. Now, please. I don’t want any fights in here.

THREE. Did ya see him? The nerve! The absolute nerve!

TEN. All right. Forget it. It don’t mean anything.

SIX. How about sitting down.

THREE. This isn’t a game. Who does he think he is?

(He lets them sit him down. EIGHT remains standing, holding the scrap of paper. He looks at it closely now and seems to be suddenly interested in it. Then he throws it back toward THREE. It lands in center of table. THREE is angered again at this, but FOUR puts his hand on his arm. EIGHT speaks now and his voice is more intense.)

EIGHT (to FOUR). Take a look at that sketch. How long does it take an elevated train going at top speed to pass a given point?

FOUR. What has that got to do with anything?

EIGHT. How long? Guess.

FOUR. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.

EIGHT (to FIVE). What do you think?

FIVE. About ten or twelve seconds, maybe.

EIGHT. I’d say that was a fair guess. Anyone else?

ELEVEN. I would think about ten seconds, perhaps.

TWO. About ten seconds.

FOUR. All right. Say ten seconds. What are you getting at?

EIGHT. This. An el train passes a given point in ten seconds. That given point is the window of the room in which the killing took place. You can almost reach out of the window of that room and touch the el. Right? (Several of them nod.) All right. Now let me ask you this. Did anyone here ever live right next to the el tracks? I have. When your window is open and the train goes by, the noise is almost unbearable. You can’t hear yourself think.

TEN. Okay. You can’t hear yourself think. Will you get to the point?

EIGHT. The old man heard the boy say, “I’m going to kill you,” and one second later he heard a body fall. One second. That’s the testimony, right?

TWO. Right.

EIGHT. The woman across the street looked through the windows of the last two cars of the el and saw the body fall. Right? The last two cars.

TEN. What are you giving us here?

EIGHT. An el takes ten seconds to pass a given point or two seconds per car. That el had been going by the old man’s window for at least six seconds, and maybe more, before the body fell, according to the woman. The old man would have had to hear the boy say, “I’m going to kill you,” while the front of the el was roaring past his nose. It’s not possible that he could have heard it.

THREE. What d’ya mean! Sure he could have heard it.

EIGHT. Could he?

THREE. He said the boy yelled it out. That’s enough for me.

NINE. I don’t think he could have heard it.

TWO. Maybe he didn’t hear it. I mean with the el noise—

THREE. What are you people talking about? Are you calling the old man a liar?

FIVE. Well, it stands to reason.

THREE. You’re crazy. Why would he lie? What’s he got to gain?

NINE. Attention, maybe?

THREE. You keep coming up with these bright sayings. Why don’t you send one in to a newspaper? They pay two dollars.

(EIGHT looks hard at THREE and then turns to NINE.)

EIGHT (softly). Why might the old man have lied? You have a right to be heard.

NINE. It’s just that I looked at him for a very long time. The seam of his jacket was split under the arm. Did you notice that? He was a very old man with a torn jacket, and he carried two canes. I think I know him better than anyone here. This is a quiet, frightened, insignificant man who has been nothing all his life, who has never had recognition—his name in the newspapers. Nobody knows him after seventy-five years. That’s a very sad thing. A man like this needs to be recognized. To be questioned, and listened to, and quoted just once. This is very important.

TWELVE. And you’re trying to tell us he lied about a thing like this just so that he could be important?

NINE. No, he wouldn’t really lie. But perhaps he’d make himself believe that he heard those words and recognized the boy’s face.

THREE (loud). Well, that’s the most fantastic story I’ve ever heard. How can you make up a thing like that? What do you know about it?

NINE (low). I speak from experience. (There is a long pause, then the FOREMAN clears his throat.)

FOREMAN (to EIGHT). All right. Is there anything else?

(EIGHT is looking at NINE. TWO offers the FOREMAN a box of cough drops. The FOREMAN pushes it away.)

TWO (hesitantly). Anybody … want a cough … drop?

FOREMAN (sharply). Come on. Let’s get on with it.

EIGHT. I’ll take one. (TWO almost gratefully slides him one along the table.) Thanks. (TWO nods and EIGHT puts the cough drop in his mouth.)

EIGHT. Now. There’s something else I’d like to point out here. I think we proved that the old man couldn’t have heard the boy say, “I’m going to kill you,” but supposing he really did hear it? This phrase: how many times has each of you used it? Probably hundreds. “If you do that once more junior, I’m going to murder you.” “Come on, Rocky, kill him!” We say it every day. This doesn’t mean that we’re going to kill someone.

THREE. Wait a minute. The phrase was “I’m going to kill you,” and the kid screamed it out at the top of his lungs. Don’t try and tell me he didn’t mean it. Anybody says a thing like that the way he said it—they mean it.

TEN. And how they mean it!

EIGHT. Well, let me ask you this. Do you really think the boy would shout out a thing like that so the whole neighborhood would hear it? I don’t think so. He’s much too bright for that.

TEN (exploding). Bright! He’s a common, ignorant slob. He don’t even speak good English.

ELEVEN (slowly). He doesn’t even speak good English.

(TEN stares angrily at ELEVEN, and there is silence for a moment. Then FIVE looks around the table nervously.)

FIVE. I’d like to change my vote to not guilty.

(THREE gets up and walks to the window, furious, but trying to control himself.)

FOREMAN. Are you sure?

FIVE. Yes. I’m sure.

FOREMAN. The vote is nine to three in favor of guilty.

SEVEN. Well, if that isn’t the end. (To FIVE) What are you basing it on? Stories this guy—(indicating EIGHT)—made up! He oughta write for Amazing Detective Monthly. He’d make a fortune. Listen, the kid had a lawyer, didn’t he? Why didn’t his lawyer bring up all these points?

FIVE. Lawyers can’t think of everything.

SEVEN. Oh brother! (To EIGHT) You sit in here and pull stories out of thin air. Now we’re supposed to believe that the old man didn’t get up out of bed, run to the door, and see the kid beat it downstairs fifteen seconds after the killing. He’s only saying he did to be important.

FIVE. Did the old man say he ran to the door?

SEVEN. Ran. Walked. What’s the difference? He got there.

FIVE. I don’t remember what he said. But I don’t see how he could run.

FOUR. He said he went from his bedroom to the front door. That’s enough, isn’t it?

EIGHT. Where was his bedroom again?

TEN. Down the hall somewhere. I thought you remembered everything. Don’t you remember that?

EIGHT. No. Mr. Foreman, I’d like to take a look at the diagram of the apartment.

SEVEN. Why don’t we have them run the trial over just so you can get everything straight?

EIGHT. Mr. Foreman—