A Matter of Perspective

By C. G. Gardiner

C. G. Gardiner, author of Melting Pot Blues, returns to the literary world with another provocative play, A Matter of Perspective. In this work of fi ction, the pervasive issue of racism will be examined in the light of eight seemingly different peoples experiences and convictions.

In the bustling metropolis of Washington D.C., Margaret Taylor, Ruth Orenstein, Gerri Anderson, John Miller, Willard Johnson, Leslie Perkins, David Powell and Alvida Hepburn are called together to serve jury duty. The case involves a young black man who was arrested by two white policemen a year earlier. The circumstances surrounding the arrest seem dubious and as the jurors deliberate, old fears and deeply-rooted prejudices are gradually brought to light. The searing dialogs of the intensely characterized men and women add fuel to the tension-ridden plot and help move it to the shocking finale.

Insightful and at times controversial, A Matter of Perspectiveb dares its readers to confront their own biases while delving into the moral dilemma at the crux of the book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477105085

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by C.G. Gardiner.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012906310

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4771-0507-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4771-0506-1

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4771-0508-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

113325

Contents

ACT ONE

ACT TWO

Dedication

To black men in their daily struggles with the American justice system

This covers a day of jury deliberations in a case tried in the District of Columbia Superior Court in 2005. The defendant, a young black man (twenty years old), was arrested by two white policemen in December, a year earlier. At the time of the arrest, he was in an unlicensed car with a young woman who was performing oral sex on him. It was midday.

Note: St. Sebastian is a fictional Caribbean country.

ACT ONE

The scene opens on the jury room. The room is small and rectangular shaped with one entrance and a bump out to the left as you enter. Two doors face each other within the bump out, each leading to a toilet—although neither is marked as such. There is a water cooler against the left wall. In the center of the room is a long, rectangular table. The jurors are seated at the table. There are four chairs against the right wall. The chairs are piled high with winter coats and other personal belongings. Coats are also hanging from racks attached to the wall. In the rear of the room, in the left corner, is a table with a coffeemaker, Styrofoam cups, sugar, creamer, and other related paraphernalia. In the opposite corner is an easel with a large writing tablet. The jurors are seated at the table. They each have a writing pad in front of them; most have a cup of coffee or some other type of drink.

Juror No. 1: (a black woman in her midseventies) I guess we should introduce ourselves; my name is Margaret Taylor.

Juror No. 2: (a white woman in her late thirties; holding up her hand) My name is Ruth Orenstein.

Juror No. 3: (a black woman in her midtwenties; sullenly) I’m Gerri Anderson.

Juror No. 4: (a white man in his midfifties; reluctantly) John Miller.

Juror No. 5: (a black man in his late forties) I’m Willard Johnson.

Juror No. 6: (a white woman in her early thirties) I’m Leslie Perkins.

Juror No. 7: (a black man in his midtwenties) I’m David Powell.

Juror No. 8: (a black woman in her midforties) My name is Alvida Hepburn.

Willard: (surveying the other jurors with a steady gaze) We need a foreman.

Ruth: Foreperson, please!

Willard: (with a shrug) Okay, foreperson.

(For a moment the jurors are silent as they consider each other.)

Ruth: (pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose) I’ve been on two juries before. So if nobody . . .

Leslie: (raising her hand) I’ll do it if nobody else wants to.

Margaret: (nodding toward Ruth) She’s been on two juries. Let her do it.

Leslie: (shrugging her shoulders) That’s okay with me.

Alvida: I have no problem with that.

Gerri: (to Alvida, in an aggressive tone) You have no problem? Well, I do!

Ruth: (defensive) Do you want to do it?

Gerri: No, but why you?

David: (calmly) Ah, let her do it. It’s no big deal.

Gerri: Hell no! We should vote!

Alvida: (in a take-charge tone) Everybody who agrees to let Ruth (looking at Ruth) be the foreperson, raise your hand. (Everyone, except Gerri, raises their hand.) Good! That settles it! Let’s get on with it.

Gerri: (to Alvida, with a twinge of anger) Who the hell put you in charge?

Alvida: (impatiently) Look, we don’t have time to fight over who’s going be the foreperson. It doesn’t matter! Let’s just get on with the job.

Gerri: Why the hell does a white person always have to be in charge?

John: That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Willard: What?

Ruth: (She stands up quickly.) Okay! Okay! Let’s get started. (adjusting her glasses) Does anyone have any questions about the testimony?

Willard: (looking at John critically) I have.

Gerri: (sullenly) I’ve got lots of questions.

John: (impatiently) I’m ready to vote now. I don’t have any questions.

Ruth: Well, I think most of us have questions, including me. I don’t think we should vote now. I think we should deliberate a bit.

Margaret: (quietly, almost to herself) I didn’t want to be on this jury. I don’t know why they didn’t pick the woman next to me. She wanted to be on this jury so bad. I could see it in her eyes.

Gerri: (looking at Margaret) I don’t want to be here either. I’ve got a lot to do this week. Christmas is weeks away, and I still have shopping to do.

Leslie: (in a scolding tone) None of us chose to be here. But this is a civic responsibility.

Margaret: (defensively) I don’t need a lecture. I’ve been doing my civic duty all my life . . . long before you were born!

Gerri: (combatively) And I sure as hell don’t need no one telling me about my civic duty!

Leslie: (getting red in the face) I didn’t . . .

Ruth: (She raises her hands to chest level, palms down, in an effort to restore order.) Okay! Okay! Let’s calm down (pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose again). Questions! Who wants to go first?

Margaret: (to no one in particular) I can’t believe the lawyer let that boy come to court looking like that.

Alvida: (shaking her head) Me either. He could’ve at least cut his hair or combed it . . . And the baggy jeans and