A monologue from the play by Tracey Scott Wilson
JESSICA (thirties)
Jessica’s husband was murdered when the couple stopped for gasoline in a black neighborhood.
Here she is talking to a detective about the crime.
I want to change my statement. It was a girl. (Pause.) It was a girl. . . . (Pause.)
Now, I hear they’re wondering if maybe it was a student of Tim’s seeking revenge or something. Did you hear that? . . .
But you know black kids don’t really do that, do they? Black kids don’t go into the cafeteria and shoot up everybody or stalk teachers and shoot them.
Isn’t that true? If one of Tim’s black students was angry with him, the black student would have shot Tim right there in the moment. Isn’t that right? (Pause.)
Isn’t that right? (Detective doesn’t answer.) Then we wouldn’t be here. The black student would have been arrested and we wouldn’t be here. (Pause.)
A couple of weeks ago some people were even saying I had something to do with it. Like it was all some elaborate scheme I thought up. (Pause.)
I don’t know if it was a girl dressed like a guy or a guy dressed like a girl dressed like a guy. I only know the killer was black. (Pause.)
The killer was black.
