It seems counterintuitive, given how grave a barrier “beyond a reasonable doubt” sounds, but nineteen out of twenty criminal jury trials end in conviction. Sometimes, of course, the facts are overwhelmingly persuasive but in many instances the jurors – that is to say, people like us – are guided by prejudice. I speak here not only of racial or gender assumptions but the common, ordinary reflexive judgments we make so that we don’t have to think too hard: a disinterested eyewitness will always tell the truth or the police would never manufacture evidence.
In this tight little jewelbox of a play which Keegan Theatre has honed to exquisite perfection, Reginald Rose takes us into the confines of a jury room, to watch twelve men thrash out the guilt or innocence of a nineteen-year-old accused of stabbing his father to death. They are not twelve good men and true but twelve hot and tired men, eager to be done with jury service and back to their jobs, families and entertainments. The evidence, superficially but clearly, indicates that the defendant is guilty and eleven jurors vote that way. Only Juror No. 8 (Colin Smith) is a holdout.
Colin Smith with cast in background (Photo: Jim Coates)
There is a certain improvisational quality to his dissent; he is unwilling to convict but unable to clearly show why. Gradually he circles through the evidence, discovering his misgivings and illuminating them for the others. In so doing, he faces four vociferous and dangerous antagonists – Juror No. 7 (Michael Innocenti), who wants to convict in time to get to his ball game; Juror No. 10 (Mark A. Rhea), a fulminating bigot whose smug assumptions about the defendant’s racial or ethnic group determined his vote before the evidence was heard; Juror No. 3 (David Jourdan), who has invested the defense of his entire social order in the defendants’ conviction; and, most toxically, Juror No.