"12 Angry Men" by Reginald Rose (in English)

(Juror 8 has convinced everyone to change their votes to "not guilty" - except for Juror 3)

Juror #7: Well, what do we do now?

Juror #8: (to #3) You're alone.

Juror #3: I don't care whether I'm alone or not! It's my right.

Juror #8: (nods) It's your right.

(beat)

Juror #3: Well, what do you want? I say he's guilty.

Juror #8: We want to hear your arguments.

Juror #3: I *gave* you my arguments!

Juror #8: We're not convinced. We want to hear them again. We have as much time as it takes.

Juror #3: (another pause, seething with anger) Everything - *every single thing* that took place in that courtroom, but I mean everything - says he's guilty. What d'ya think, I'm an idiot or somethin'? (gets out of his seat) Why don'tcha take that stuff about the old man - the old man who *lived* there and heard *every*thing? Or this business about the knife! What, 'cause we found one exactly like it? The old man *saw* him! Right there on the stairs! What's the difference how many seconds it was? Every single thing... The knife falling through a hole in his pocket... You can't *prove* he didn't get to the door! Sure, you can take all the time, hobblin' around the room, but you can't prove it! And what about this business with the El? And the movies! There's a phony deal if I ever heard one. I betcha five thousand dollars I'd remember the movies I saw! I'm tellin' ya, every thing that's gone on has been twisted... and turned! (points at Juror #8) This business with the glasses? How do *you* know she didn't have 'em on? This woman testified in open court! And what about hearin' the kid yell? Huh? I'm tellin' ya, I've got all the facts here...  (struggles with his notebook) Here... Ah. (He throws it on the table. The photo of him with his son is on top) Well, that's it - that's the whole case! (He turns towards the window as the other jurors stare at him; he turns back to them) Well? *Say* something! (No one obliges; everyone is focused on him) You lousy bunch of bleedin' 'earts... You're not goin' to intimidate me - I'm *entitled* to my opinion! (He sees the picture of his son on the table) Rotten kids, you work your life out...! (He grabs the picture and tears it to pieces. He suddenly realizes what he's doing and breaks down) ...no. Not guilty. Not guilty.