THE ACTONS

Author’s note:  This is scene 7 and comes about a quarter of the way into the play after we have met the entire family, as they are under normal circumstances. This scene occurs soon after the “incident,” which happens offstage and stays opaque for much of the play.  — WV

 

SCENE 7

A modern office with a skyline view.

RAYMOND LOEWE sits with his legs on a conference table, staring into a laptop.

He swings his feet off of the table, leaning in close to the screen.

RAYMOND

Lookatthis! They’re already takin’ sides. (reading from the screen)

Ship all these mongrel monkees–two Es–back to Africa #KOcab. Somebody gon’ bring up OJ #KOcab. Thoughts and prayers. KOcab. Total intersection race & class, KOcab. KOcab. KOcab. KOcab… this thing’s trending goddammit… Worst case, the guy dies, it’s manslaughter.

BRIAN enters with bottles of water for the table and settles down with his laptop and legal pads.

BRIAN

As a hate crime.

RAYMOND

What are you talking? He was provoked by a hate crime. Now if the guy lives–

BRIAN

First degree assault. 25 years max.

RAYMOND

Ha! This is no repeat offender.

BRIAN

It was pretty brutal.

RAYMOND

Debateable. Brutal is debateable. Perhaps. Maybe it was brutal. Depends on what really happened. Have you been to the scene, Brian?

BRIAN

No–

RAYMOND

So you’re just assuming. Based on what? Your gut? The police report?

BRIAN

Well–

RAYMOND

Wake up! This guy doesn’t have to do a year even.

BRIAN

If the guy lives.

RAYMOND

Yes, if…

BRIAN

Raymond, about this case, I, um, someone else should maybe–

RAYMOND

So you think he’s guilty?

BRIAN

No. I know, um, of course he’s guilty, but–

RAYMOND

No, not of course. Never of course. What the hell did you learn in law school, Brian? Where are you from again?

BRIAN

I grew up in Brooklyn.

RAYMOND

No, where? Where!?

BRIAN

Bay Ridge.

RAYMOND

Bay Ridge. Bay Ridge! Bay fuckin’ Ridge and this is what you say to me. You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re why the middle class is dying in New York. You have no sense of place. You should know better… NYU Law right? Fuckin’ private school. This is the real world, Brian, wake up. There’s no such thing as of course. Unless it’s of course the police overreached. Of course the victim was a racist pig. Of course the weather was a factor–

BRIAN

The weather?

RAYMOND

Biblical rain, Brian. Biblical. No man is himself in a storm. Of course he’s guilty is for people who can’t afford innocence!

ELIZABETH, a Waspy blonde, enters with her son, ACTON, who is half Black, but very light. His phone chimes throughout.

ACTON

Excuse me.

BRIAN

Hi!

RAYMOND

Louis Acton, Jr.

ACTON

The receptionist said we could come back.

RAYMOND

Of course, of course.

ACTON

This is my mother, Elizabeth.

RAYMOND

Raymond Loewe. A pleasure. I wish the circumstances were better… Sit. Sit. Please. This is Brian, uh–

BRIAN

Falcone. Mr. Acton, we’ve met before. I mean, Raymond introduced us at that alumni event. You were with your brother.

ELIZABETH

You’ve met?

ACTON

Right. Right. Nice to see you. Again… Raymond, I thought you’d handle this yourself.

RAYMOND

Of course. Of course. Brian’s my new junior. He’s just taking some notes.

ACTON

So, you’ll take the case?

RAYMOND

I’m the only lawyer in New York who should. Something to drink?

ACTON

Nothing.

ELIZABETH

No. Thank you.

RAYMOND

I talked to your husband this morning.

ACTON

I didn’t think he’d take your call.

RAYMOND

Everyone talks to me.

ACTON

Well he hasn’t said a word to us.

RAYMOND

He seemed to be expecting me.

ELIZABETH

I told him we’d called you, but…

BRIAN

He needs some time.

Elizabeth turns to Brian for a second, staring. He slumps into his work.

RAYMOND

He sent me packing.

ACTON

What?

ELIZABETH

Well the whole thing is ridiculous–

RAYMOND

I’m sorry, but I exist because these things are all too serious–

ELIZABETH

That animal gave my husband a black eye.

RAYMOND

Too bad it doesn’t show in the pictures.

ELIZABETH

This was an accident.

RAYMOND

Are you sure? (beat) A brutal assault like this could send your husband to jail for 25 years.

ELIZABETH

Twenty-five!?

RAYMOND

Of course it doesn’t have to be that way.

ELIZABETH

(to Acton)

Would you stop it with that phone.

ACTON

My Social Q is plummeting…

ELIZABETH

For God’s sake, Acton. 25 years.

RAYMOND

(to Acton)

Look I like you. You rank people or whatever. That makes some people uncomfortable. I’m not one of those people. Best launch party ever, by the way. Point is you get how the world works. But frankly, Mrs. Acton–

ELIZABETH

Elizabeth.

RAYMOND

Elizabeth. Your husband has gotten used to making the world work the way he wants. You both have. But the world does not work the way you think.

ACTON

The media is blowing this whole thing out of proportion. We just want it to go away.

BRIAN

It’s too late for that.

ELIZABETH

The things they’re saying aren’t even true.

BRIAN

Men have been convicted for less.

ELIZABETH

Black men. You mean, Black men.

ACTON

Twenty-five years. That’s basically a life sentence. My father can’t spend the rest of his life in jail…

ELIZABETH

For an accident. He can’t.

RAYMOND

I understand.

BRIAN

We just have to lay out worst case, but it doesn’t mean–

RAYMOND

Of course it doesn’t. I go in hard so you’re ready. The public is lighting their torches. I can help, but he has to agree to work with me. And then he has to give me something I can work with.

ELIZABETH

What do you mean?

RAYMOND

Right now he doesn’t want help. He wants pity.

ELIZABETH

No. No. You just don’t understand him.

ACTON

He wants to be right. That’s what he always wants.

RAYMOND

Don’t we all. This is about optics. If I put him on the stand and he starts telling his tragic Negro tale.

ELIZABETH

Excuse me!?

ACTON

What!?

RAYMOND

See you’re folding already. You think people want to hear this ancient tale of racist woe. They don’t. Louis Acton is a banker who lives in a million dollar home–

ACTON

Three point five, actually.

RAYMOND

I wouldn’t repeat that.

ELIZABETH

It was a shack when we bought it. Did you know that?

RAYMOND

I did not.

ELIZABETH

Well since you know so much about what it’s worth, then you should also know that the city was selling those homes for nothing. Some were just a dollar. One dollar. Shells.

RAYMOND

Yes, yes, Mrs. Acton I do know that.

ELIZABETH

That’s the American dream isn’t it? Work hard and reap the rewards? Do you know what you can get for a copper pipe, Mr. Loewe? I do. Because there was no plumbing. It had been stripped. Have you ever stayed up all night so rats wouldn’t climb into bed with your children? We kept a tent city in the living room because we could sleep around the fireplace, build up some heat in just that one room where the water from the holes in the roof couldn’t get at us. I cooked over a hot plate. Kraft macaroni and cheese, tuna fish and the giant loaf of Wonder bread, omelettes. That hot plate’s still in the kitchen somewhere. You say what it’s worth. I say we’ve earned every cent.

RAYMOND

That’s a very compelling story. Very… You and your husband both have multiple Ivy League degrees, yes?

ELIZABETH

No, I did my undergrad at Bryn Mawr.

RAYMOND

Tomato, tomahto.

ELIZABETH

Isn’t the law about specifics?

RAYMOND

What was your master’s, English?

ELIZABETH

Creative writing.

RAYMOND

Uhm. The luxury master’s. An Ivy League MFA at what, Columbia, which is where you met your husband who was getting an MBA. So you swatted rats with a leather-bound dictionary while working on your novel in a townhouse that you owned. Boo hoo! Some people still live like that. And most people only care about the pot of gold. They want to see the after pictures. I read that most of the original finishes survived the shelling–but we digress. Half the public is already preparing the gallows. The fact is that most people are only paying lip service to the Black man’s burden. Life’s tough. Get over it. That’s how juries think. I never even pegged Acton Jr. here as Black. You think any of this’ll earn your family sympathy. Juries are full of people from Bay Ridge who hate people like you.

ACTON

We know. We know all of this. That’s why we called you. This is what I woke up to this morning… (reading from his phone) The father’s led by instinct. Base. Instinct. And that woman? She’s been defiled. Disgraced. Beyond repair. And their brood? Mutts. Impure. All of them. This behavior is what we can expect when we allow people to mix as if we were ever equals–

ELIZABETH

Enough.

RAYMOND

I did see that and I’m sorry.

ELIZABETH

How is this the conversation?

RAYMOND

Look, New York is just the beachhead of civilization in this country. But we’re losing the war.

ACTON

Can you help us or not?

RAYMOND

Of course, but not because you ask. He has to say yes. And agree to do what I say.

ACTON

Understood.

RAYMOND

He has to agree to my methods.

ELIZABETH

Meaning what?

RAYMOND

We’ll come to that. When he agrees. Otherwise this is all a waste of time. My time. Your time. Time that could be better spent. Time making sure he stays a free man.

BLACKOUT

 

 

Wilson Valentin, a fiction writer, playwright and editor living in Harlem, has worked for The Wall Street Journal, CNN, PBS, and HBO. He has a BFA from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and an MFA from CUNY’s City College. His fiction has appeared in the journal Promethean, and his play, The Actons, won the David Dortort Prize.