Fade in.
“I was frustrated,” he defends himself.
So, she deserved the yelling.
“I was only angry for a very short time.”
He innocently explained to the juror bosses.
“She’s instantly confrontational.”
She is accused of correcting his perpetual errors.
“She never has a moment of reflection.”
But she lives mostly in her own head.
“I’m not abusive,” he insists, like a colorblind racist.
She remembers someone drinking two glasses of wine.
“This place may not be a good fit for you,” he feigns care. His bosses say nothing.
If not here then where, she wonders.
“A liberal arts college in the U.S.”
Is she being run out of her own country?
“If he lost his temper there must have been a reason,” another intervenes, settles the score, proclaims the truth.
She knows all too well how abuse is justified.
“It’s an attitude issue, not a skills issue.”
Perception again, qualifications disregarded.
“I can apologize,” the defendant whimpers.
She waits to hear the words.
“Do you accept the apology?” another asks.
She didn’t hear one.
“Well, do you?”
She must have gone deaf.
“Are you willing to apologize?” another says.
For asking for an apology for brown sensitivities.
“Well, are you?” another is ready to retire.
Tears in her eyes, her brown face stays dry.
“Rebuilding trust happens through actions.”
Like when the defendant snitched on her.
“Going over your superior’s head breaks trust.”
Avenues of appeal are closing.
“Thanks for coming,” another ushers them out.
Defendant, accuser.
Case closed.
Verdict: defendant guilty but not really.
Released by reason of white.
White boss stays superior.
Brown accuser stays brown.
Outside she can breathe again.
The dark cloud lifts from her.
Darkness envelops the defendant.
He is blinded by the light.
Fade out.