Two fathers. Seventy minutes. No mediator. No mercy. No survivors.
Production-ready materials (January 2026)
Sam Morrison and Alex Harper were arrested after their debate at a school board meeting turned violent—in front of their children. Sam called Alex a traitor for saying the founding documents protected slavery. Alex called Sam a fascist. They grabbed each other. Both were arrested.
The prosecutor offered a mediation agreement: complete this session by 6:00 PM and charges are dropped. Fail, and both face trial tomorrow morning. Sam will lose his concealed carry permit and his business. Alex will lose his job. Both need this to work.
They arrive at the mediation room and discover their court-appointed mediator has a family emergency and won't be coming. They're alone. Seventy minutes. No escape.
Over seventy minutes in real time, they debate immigration enforcement, election security, gun rights, federal power, and who has the moral authority to decide America's future. Sam believes certainty and moral order are necessary to save the country. Alex believes pluralism and democratic restraint are the only defense against tyranny. Both make arguments that sound reasonable—until they reveal what lies underneath.
The intensity is sustained and brutal. Both men are forced to expose vulnerabilities they'd rather hide. Both experience moments where their certainty cracks—not enough to change their minds, but enough to show them what their beliefs cost.
Sam lost his gay son fifteen years ago when he couldn't affirm his sexuality—and still misses him every day. Alex fears his seven-year-old son will grow up in Sam's America. Both are protecting what they love. Both are terrified of what the other represents.
They write a document brutal in its honesty: "We remain in fundamental moral conflict. That is the full extent of our agreement." They sign. They leave—destroyed, not defeated. The empty third chair remains—waiting for whoever will eventually sit there with enough certainty to impose their vision on everyone else.
Retired Army Sergeant Major. Owns Morrison Construction. Raising his grandson Tyler after his son Michael gave up custody. Lost Michael (gay) fifteen years ago when Sam told him he couldn't affirm his sexuality. Still misses him every day. Believes moral standards and discipline are what made America strong. Fear drives his certainty.
Political science professor at State University. Married with a seven-year-old son. His son came home crying after another kid told him he wasn't a "real American" because they don't go to church. Spends his life teaching why restraint and process matter. Terrified of Sam's America. Commitment drives his certainty.
Brief appearance. Sets the trap and leaves.
THE THIRD CHAIR examines what happens when two people with genuine, irreconcilable differences are forced to choose, over and over, whether to stay human to each other.
This isn't a play about resolution or common ground. It's about the brutal, uncomfortable work of acknowledging someone's humanity even when you see them as dangerous, even when everything they believe terrifies you. It's about the moment before violence and the cost of certainty.
The play is designed to make both sides of the political divide equally uncomfortable. Both characters make arguments that sound reasonable before revealing what lies underneath. Neither is a caricature. Neither wins. The emotional intensity is sustained and unrelenting—both men leave the room destroyed, not just tired. This is visceral confrontation, not intellectual debate.
The play runs in real time with seventy minutes of sustained pressure. No relief. No escape. The audience doesn't watch a debate—they survive an emotional demolition.
Running Time: 70 minutes (no intermission)
Cast: 3 actors (2M, 1F)
Setting: A mediation room, present day, real time
Technical Requirements: Minimal—three chairs, one table, basic lighting. The play's power comes from performance and text. The empty third chair should be visible throughout—a constant presence, waiting.
Performance Demands: This production demands actors who can sustain maximum emotional intensity for 70 minutes. Both characters experience moments of private doubt and devastating exposure. Both leave visibly damaged. The play requires physical commitment—shaking hands, broken voices, white-knuckled grips on chairs. This is not comfortable work.
Themes: Irreconcilable coexistence, moral certainty vs. democratic restraint, federal power, immigration enforcement, election security, gun rights, who decides moral authority, the cost of conviction, fatherhood under ideological siege
Ideal For: Theaters committed to difficult work, venues with strong talkback programs, companies willing to be controversial, productions that challenge rather than comfort