Review: The Witness Room, a Half-Baked Drama for the Law & Order Set

Daniel Allen’s scenic design makes an immediate impression in The Witness Room, Pedro Antonio Garcia’s fast-paced and heavy-handed legal drama, which is now making its off-Broadway debut at AMT Theater. The decaying wood paneling and institutional drear instantly transports us to 100 Centre Street, the courthouse that time forgot, a living monument to Fiorello La Guardia’s New York. “In God We Trust” is printed high above the stage, a realistic flourish for a courthouse, although probably not for the small side room in which this drama takes place. A mountain of bankers boxes occupies stage left of this already crowded space, possibly storing ancient evidence and legal briefs. It towers precariously, as if the whole thing could collapse at any moment — a blunt metaphor for our criminal justice system. But is it an accurate one?

That question haunts the following 75 minutes as we witness Assistant District Attorney Andrea Volpi (Tricia Small) coach four NYPD officers on their testimony for what should be a routine suppression hearing (that’s a court proceeding to determine whether certain evidence is admissible for trial). Officers T-J Moretti (Dave Baez), Terrence Sampson (Moe Irvin), Kevin Brennan (Jason SweetTooth Williams), and Eli Torres (JD Mollison) were all involved in a drug bust, but they’ve mucked-up their affidavits with dramatic embellishments and the accused has since rescinded his confession. Volpi seems confident she can still prevail, and that the weight of the evidence will pressure the accused into taking a plea bargain before the case ever goes to trial.

But she’s up against Suarez, a clever defense attorney with political connections who seems intent on painting this as a case of racial profiling (the defendant is named “Herman Crespo,” but officer Sampson refers to him as “the spic”). Suarez knows how to get the cops off-script to discredit their testimony. Moreover, he seems intent on making this case the cornerstone in a wider crusade against police and prosecutorial misconduct —  the “blue wall of silence” and the casual collusion of prosecutors, who must maintain good relations with the force in order to successfully rack up convictions. Inconveniently for Volpi, Officer Torres finds his conscience in the witness room and begins to get cold feet about testifying to something he didn’t actually see.

Garcia, who is both playwright and defense attorney, demonstrates his bona fides with a barrage of criminal justice jargon that even the most dedicated viewer of Law & Order might have trouble following. Volpi speaks of “three and C”s (that three years in jail for pleading guilty to a class C felony) and “D-D 5”s (cop paperwork) as if she were discussing last weekend’s barbecue (all of these terms are included in a helpful glossary in the digital program, which will help you not a bit if you’ve turned off your phone like a polite theatergoer).

And why shouldn’t she? It’s all seasoned pros in this room. After she cracks a joke about how much she likes dick (as much as Officer Moretti), they all respond with a collective “oooooooooh,” a kind of Staten Island mating call. They’re so authentic, we’re meant to think. Whether or not you do will depend entirely on your exposure to actual cops.

Director Will Blum’s competent production features no-frills lighting by Aiden Bezark, which transforms into a tight interrogational spot when Volpi is questioning the witnesses. Sound designer Lindsay Jones heightens this transformation from work lights to stage lights with a nifty sound cue. And Gina Ruiz costumes the characters in expected ways (Volpi’s ugly off-the-rack pantsuit is spot-on). It’s all done professionally, but the performances and design can only rise to the level of the script, which does little to sheath its big ideas in compelling drama.

Garcia has some interesting things to say about the tension between ethical and social behavior — how the demands of the latter often outweigh the more abstract considerations of the former. When your family seems to be in danger (either physically or by the loss of your stable job with excellent benefits), the truth becomes an unaffordable luxury.

But rather than allowing these ideas to develop organically through the dramatic situation, Garcia deploys Officer Brennan to give us the CliffsNotes version of the underpinning philosophy. Williams must deliver lines like, “Let me tell you why you’re conflicted. It’s because ethics forces you to choose between the utilitarian good, where the moral thing is what’s best for society, or the individual, where we look at each case morally.” Even Meryl Streep would find this line a heavy lift. When big dramatic actions do overtake the florid dialogue, they feel forced, stakes-raising moments that strain credulity.

Garcia also bumps up against the challenge of trying to mount a play that feels both timeless and ripped-from-the-headlines. “They’re already talking about defunding you guys,” Volpi warns the officers in a line straight from 2020 (where are the masks?). Those of us living in 2024 know that the political will for defunding the police and reforming criminal justice has entirely evaporated in this deep-blue town — to the point that it is now conceivable that Thomas Kenniff will become the next Manhattan district attorney after he successfully defends Daniel Penny in his manslaughter trial.

Of course, attorneys have a duty to present their clients in the most favorable light, which often involves massaging the truth while sticking to the facts (we hope). Playwrights, on the other hand, enjoy the prerogative of entirely inventing their reality. Unfortunately, when it comes to The Witness Room, I doubt the jury will buy it.