In an era when amorality is rampant, this smart, pinball-like cop play summarizes choices with fisheye specificity. A defense attorney himself, playwright Pedro Antonia Garcia, not only has an ear for language and an eye for gritty personality, but understands procedure and politics in the Force. Think condensed Stephen Bochco. (Producer of multiple TV police series.)
The musty back room of a courthouse on Centre Street in lower Manhattan is piled high with cardboard boxes. Furniture is metal. Everything is cheap, utilitarian and impersonal. In God We Trust looms above. (Daniel Allen – authentic feeling set.) Four ethnically diverse NYPD cops, all with blots on their records, make up a ragtag, plainclothes narcotics team.
Moe Irvin, Tricia Small, Dave Baez, Jason SweetTooth Williams
Italian American T.J. Moretti (Dave Baez) is an egotistical, misogynistic, mouthy peacock. Doughy, untucked, Irish American Kevin Brennan (Jason SweetTooth Williams) surprisingly refers to Occam’s Razor, describing the situation (a problem – solving principle that searches for explanations constructed with the smallest possible set of elements) which indicates intellect beyond his persona. Several law book quotes also seem out of place among this roughcut bunch. The playwright is flexing.
African American Terrence Sampson (Moe Irvin) lives outside the rules. He’s the only one who hasn’t been relieved of his gun on the way into the courthouse. (How?) Terrence feels entitled. His old man was a cop. Clean-cut Latino Eli Torres (J.D. Mollison), brought in to support the others’ story of a questionable drug bust, remains riddled with guilt about beating up a perp (suspect) despite, the others assure him, his having deserved it. Eli has found religion and conscience which turns out to threaten them all.
Jason SweetTooth Williams, Moe Irvin, Dave Baez, JD Mollison
Shepherding the men through a hearing that will decide if the case goes to trial is Assistant District Attorney/Bureau Chief of Narcotics Andrea Volpi (Tricia Small). Volpi is a match for any cop, snapping back crude remarks, incisively remanding and correcting. Up against politically well connected Suarez who’s intent on making the case representative of wider police misconduct, her job is in jeapordy.
The problem is that everyone’s story is different and all are based on presumptions. There must’ve been
a gun tucked into the defendant’s pants as cocaine was involved; the accused signed a confession so it follows he read it. Where exactly were the drugs? What was his mother’s involvement (pivotal to Eli’s considerations). One bodycam was off, another had no sound, the third was blurry. Each cop fails to maintain equilibrium on the stand. They viciously turn on each other. Eli must maintain “the blue wall of silence” or the house of cards falls.
Moe Irvin, JD Mollison, Jason SweetTooth Williams
“I wanted to expose the questionable relationships among the police, the judges, and the district attorneys as they justify morally corrupt behavior under color of law. Personally, everything I write is either based on versions of cases I’ve handled or have been involved in.” Pedro Antonio Garcia
You may find yourself a bit lost at the start as cop jargon flies. Hang in there. Aside from some over-educated speeches, the piece is well written and timely. It lands. You won’t see the ending coming.
Acting is fine across the board, the nuanced J.D. Mollison and forceful Tricia Small standouts.
Director Will Blum keeps the action going with an innate sense of emphasis on distinctive language beats. Characters move and gesture realistically. Tricia Small’s Volpi is particularly well depicted. One caveat: the cops face us (a wall?) too often instead of one another. Light (Aiden Bezark) and sound (Lindsay Jones) are appropriately no nonsense.
Photos by Andy Henderson
Opening: L to R: JD Mollison, Dave Baez, Jason SweetTooth Williams, Moe Irvin, Tricia Small
The Witness Room by Pedro Antonio Garcia
Directed by Will Blum
AMT Theater
354 West 45th Street (Between Eighth and Ninth Avenues)
