SOUND/LIGHT. A prison meeting room. El Paso, Texas. 2019. Two doors. A large mirrored observation window. A water cooler with paper cups. Two people stand facing one another, a heavy metal table between them. GLORIA is an African-American woman in her 40s. Intelligent. Warm. Modestly dressed. Her bag full of research materials sits on the table. RICK is a white man in his 40s. He wears an orange prison jumpsuit and absently rubs his wrists. GLORIA holds a small digital tape recorder in her hand.
GLORIA: You mind, you mind if I record? Iâll also take notes but this allows me to be accurate.
RICK: I imagine weâre both being recorded right now.
GLORIA: Really?
RICK glances at observation window.
RICK: And watched.
GLORIA: I think thatâs supposed to be for my safety.
RICK: Or mine.
GLORIA: You think Iâm a threat?
RICK: Are you? (Beat.) Kinda weird, when you think about it. They donât want me to kill myself so they can kill me.
SOUNDS of prison buzzer and cell doors closing. GLORIA glances nervously towards the door.
RICK: You worried about your safety?
SHE studies him a moment.
GLORIA: No.
RICK: But youâre nervous?
GLORIA: Sure.
RICK nods approvingly. As he gets a drink of water from the cooler â
RICK: I like that. That youâre honest. That stood out in your letters. Itâs why I picked you.
GLORIA: I think if weâre not honest, whatâs the point?
RICK: (Nodding.) I havenât met a lot of college professors before. Lawyers, yeah. Shrinks. But â you donât look like what I thought.
GLORIA: How is that? You mean Black.
RICK: Iâm not allowed computer access so I couldnât look you up. I donât know what they think Iâm going to do with a computer, you know, reach out to my huge fan base and incite a â
GLORIA: Is my race a problem for you?
RICK: I never know what word to use. Black. African-American.
GLORIA: I like Black. Is it a problem, Rick?
RICK: I was just surprised. It doesnât matter to me; Iâm not racist. Iâve lived and worked with all kinds of people.
GLORIA: Hispanic?
RICK: In Texas, are you kidding? You could throw a rock in any direction and youâd hit one. (Beat.) Unfortunate expression there.
GLORIA: Muslim?
RICK: Sure.
GLORIA: You have Muslim friends?
RICK: I knew some but those people, they kinda stick together, you know.
GLORIA: But you had no personal animus against Muslims and Hispanics.
RICK: Personal what?
GLORIA: âAnimus.â Hostility?
RICK: Iâm just messinâ with you, professor. For a country boy, my vocabulary is less limited than you might think.
GLORIA: Uh-huh. And the answer to my question, do you have any prejudice towards Muslims and or Hispanics?
RICK: No maâam.
GLORIA: And yet here you are.
RICK: Look, Iâm not crazy; it was the situation. There was enormous pressure from the Brass and stuff just â
GLORIA: Rick, if you insist on repeating the same bullshit your lawyer gave the court then I am going to walk out of here and never come back. On the other hand, if you want to talk to me, one person to another, really talk to me about what happened and why, maybe help us all understand so that nobody else finds themselves in your situation, then we can do that. But you have to be honest with me. Can you do that? Can you just be honest?
A moment. GLORIA shrugs and starts to pack her things.
RICK: Hold on.
GLORIA: Iâm not here to play.
RICK: I donât want to mess this up, alright, but thereâs â thereâs a lot ridinâ on this thing.
GLORIA stops and consider him.
GLORIA: I agree. Thatâs why Iâm here, because I want to hear your side, Rick, in your own words.
RICK: Yeah?
GLORIA: If youâre honest with me, Iâll see that what you say is printed just like you say it. No filter. No editing. Your words.
Loud prison SOUNDS.
GLORIA: They havenât given us a lot of time, Rick. And I donât honestly know if theyâll let me come back after today.
RICK: I donât, I donât have anybody to talk to in here. My lawyer, but thatâs not really, you knowâŠ.
GLORIA: Family?
A moment. RICK shrugs.
GLORIA: Why are you in solitary?
RICK: âFor my own protection.â
GLORIA: You sound skeptical.
RICK: My experience has been in certain situations people tend to act in their own interests.
GLORIA: Thereâs value in your death?
RICK: The government certainly seems to think so.
GLORIA: Thereâs been no decision yet regarding your sentence.
RICK: If you believe that, youâre not nearly as smart as you think you are. (Quietly.)
I saw things. I know stuff that would make a lot of people look bad. We all know how this plays out. And thereâs not gonna be any last minute Sheriff Arpaio pardon here.
GLORIA moves to the table and begins pulling out her research materials.
GLORIA: Thatâs why itâs important we talk now. That the true story gets told now before people out there change it into something else. Distort it. Revise it.
RICK: And why are you here, professor? Out of your Ivory Tower. Youâre what, performing a social service? No thought for yourself?
GLORIA: Well, to be completely honest, on the nine hour drive down here today in my antique Fairlane which should have had a complete engine rebuild a year ago, I did allow myself a tiny fantasy about that big ass book advance. But thatâs not what motivates me. Obviously, thereâs interest in you, in your story. I think itâs very important. Maybe I write a book like we talked about. Or maybe at the end of the day I just go home and burn my notes.
RICK: In that case, whatâs the point in me talking to you? Why are you here?
A moment.
GLORIA: The first time I understood race in this country I was at a Fourth of July parade with my folks. My mom had put red, white, and blue ribbons in my hair and I was very proud of them. I was standing there on the corner, holding her hand, my daddy had gone to get me a snow cone, and this white policeman who was providing security looked over at me and smiled. I knew he was going to say something nice because thatâs what grown-ups did. And he leaned over and said to me very quietly, âHello, little nigger, how are you doing today?â I was six. (Beat.) I think itâs fair to say that most Black people donât spend a lot of time trying to understand racism so much as survive it. Weâre looking for the work-around, not the explanation. Iâm a little bit different, maybe. Iâve thought a lot about that police officer over the years and the ways he changed me. Was he just a, a âman of his time;â like the nose on his face, his racism so much a part of him that he wasnât even aware of it any more? Or did he know exactly what he was doing and there was a special thril...