In episode five of the Chappelle’s Show’s second season, Dave Chappelle presents a hilarious but frighteningly accurate look into the United States’ prison system. He introduces the sketch by saying, “It’s like there’s two legal systems, damn near,” as major corporations and the like often get off for crimes while non-white drug criminals are excessively punished. Chappelle’s observation is unfortunately correct, as there is “no other country in the world [that] imprisons so many of its racial or ethnic minorities” as the United States (Alexander 6). While “studies show that people of all colors use and sell illegal drugs at remarkably similar rates…as many as 80 percent of young African American men now have criminal records and are thus subject to legalized discrimination for the rest of their lives” (Alexander 7). Chappelle recognizes and plays upon the disparity between white-collar punishments and punishments for crimes committed by people of color. Under his proposal to “put crack dealers and shit through the legal system [white-collar criminals] go through,” the following sketch unfolds.
The sketch begins at the home of Charles Jefferies, identified as the CEO of Fonecome. Charles appears to be upper-middle class, due to his job as a CEO and the large, upscale look of his bedroom. Charles is a white male with a white, blonde-haired wife and a golden retriever. He appears in a plaid blue bathrobe and as the sketch opens, he is beginning to initiate sex with his wife. A grenade suddenly appears on the floor, followed the collapse of the bedroom door, revealing a SWAT team. The wife screams and the dog barks loudly. A member of the SWAT team shoots the dog, whose blood splatters over the wife, and tells Charles to “stop resisting” even though he is clearly not.
Though Charles’ arrest may seem like hyperbole for the sake of comedy, it is not far off the mark. “SWAT teams originated in the 1960s and gradually became more common in the 1970s, but until the drug war, they were used rarely, primarily for extraordinary emergency situations such as hostage takings, hijackings, or prison escapes (Alexander 73). However, “today, the most common use of SWAT teams is to serve narcotics warrants, usually with forced, unannounced entry into the home,” and it is no coincidence that these homes overwhelmingly belong to people of color (Alexander 73). “In countless situations in which police could easily have arrested someone or conducted a search without a military-style raid, police blast into people’s homes, typically in the middle of the night, throwing grenades, shouting, and pointing guns and rifles at anyone inside, often including young children” (Alexander 74). If Charles is meant to face the typical treatment of a suspected drug criminal, Chappelle’s sketch is completely truthful.
Chappelle’s insight into America’s dual justice system continues during Charles’ interrogation. Charles wears a plain blue shirt and appears shaken and confused; asking the police officer what he is charged with. The police officer responds, “Yeah, like you don’t know, you little bitch,” and puts his cigarette out on Charles’ forehead, causing him to pee himself. Charles asks to speak to a lawyer and is given a scattered legal aide instead, who says, “Sorry, you’re like my fourteenth case this week”. Chappelle’s depiction of supposed drug criminals’ treatment is potentially generous, as “tens of thousands of poor people go to jail every year without ever talking to a lawyer, and those who do meet with a lawyer for a drug offense often spend only a few minutes discussing their case and options before making a decisions that will profoundly affect the rest of their lives” (Alexander 83).
At the trial, Charles wears an orange jumpsuit, a visible marker of a criminal even though he has not yet been sentenced. The police officer tells his side of the story, drastically contorting the facts: “He points his gun at us and tells his dog to sic us. It was at that point that I fired upon the canine and we were able to subdue Mr. Jefferies. Upon further search of the mansion, we were able to locate this— (officer pulls out bag) pure Columbian heroin…Then his wife threw her titties in my hand. It was weird, Your Honor.”
Charles breaks in twice, saying, “I don’t know whose heroin that is, but it certainly isn’t mine” and “You grabbed her titties! I saw you!” Charles’ words go unheard, and sadly, many police officers involved with the War on Drugs are in fact corrupt. Many officers are under pressure to maintain or increase their number of arrests or else risk losing their jobs, and “in Southern California, a Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department employee reported that deputies routinely planted drugs and falsified police reports” (Alexander 80).
Charles’ silencing, representing the silencing of marginalized drug criminals, continues when the judge asks if he would like to say anything before sentencing. Charles begins, “Okay, first of all—“ when the judge cuts him off with a grand speech: “All right, that’s enough. You’re the worst kind of scum on the face of the earth. You’re an animal, a filthy big-lipped beast. I’d like to congratulate the jury of your peers…all your possessions will be seized immediately by the court and you will receive the mandatory minimum of life in prison.” The obvious racist references to African-Americans do not apply to Charles as a white man, but serve to remind Chappelle’s audience that Charles is not in the white justice system. Instead, Charles is experiencing the justice system millions of drug criminals face, drug criminals who by and large are people of color despite there being no discernable disparity between white and non-white drug use. When the judge says, ‘jury of your peers’, the camera pans to seven men who appear black or otherwise non-white, wearing hats and casual jackets, one with his foot up and all nodding smugly. This is in direct contrast to white, CEO, Gap-dressed Charles, referencing the lack of fair representation non-whites face in trial. “The history of race discrimination in jury selection dates back to slavery. Until 1860, no black person had ever sat on a jury in the United States…[and] the Court offered no meaningful protection against jury discrimination in the years that followed” (Alexander 117). “Making matters worse, thirty-one states and the federal government subscribe to the practice of lifetime felon exclusion from juries. As a result, about 30 percent of black men are automatically banned from jury service for life” (Alexander 119).
Lastly, the ‘mandatory minimum of life in prison’ is an exaggerated, but very real factor in the War on Drugs. “The elimination of judicial discretion through mandatory sentencing laws has forced judges to impose sentences for drug crimes that are often longer than those violent criminals receive” (Alexander 88).
Interspersed with Charles’ story is the story of Tron Carter, a black cocaine dealer put into the white justice system (it is important to note here that while the justice system is split primarily by white and non-white offenders, there are many other factors, such as class, that determine the degree of fair treatment someone receives). Tron is black and enhances this by playing into many whites’ conceptions of ‘blackness’. He appears in sweatsuits, doo rags, and hats as well as gold chains and sunglasses. Tron never appears in a suit or any type of stereotypical work clothes, which makes his ensuing pampered treatment that much more unbelievable, as people of color often have to fit into white notions of presentation in order to increase their chances of equal treatment. Tron is assumed to be less wealthy than Charles, due to his career as a drug dealer as well as his living room, which is dark, messy, and has a bong prominently displayed on the coffee table. Tron is introduced playing with a gun while watching a rap video on TV, fulfilling the stereotype of the dangerous black drug dealer and further drawing attention to his blackness.
Tron’s arrest is drastically different than Charles’. The phone rings and Tron answers, “I’m bagging the coke up as fast as I can,” an obvious declaration of his guilt. The detective tells Tron he has a warrant for cocaine trafficking, and says, “Frankly, I’m afraid I don’t know how to handle it”. Tron replies, “Oh man, we got to be careful with this, we don’t want to embarrass someone like me in front of my family and my community. I’ll tell you what, I’ll come in and turn myself in around Thursday, okay?”. White-collar criminals’ soft punishments are often justified by claiming that the, typically white, criminal is a pillar in their community or has done other good deeds, while the colored drug criminal is assumed to have no positive value to society. Tron and the detective work out a convenient time for Tron to turn himself in and the detective ends with, “Thank you so very much for your help and again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, “going so far as to say “I love you, too” before hanging up the phone.
The disparity between the two justice systems is highlighted more when Tron arrives, many hours late, to turn himself in. The men arranging Tron’s punishment are waiting in a nicely furnished office with red wine and an expensive cheese spread. One man asks Tron, “How about you testify before a Senate committee and spend two months at Club Fed?” referring to a less restrictive, more accommodating prison than one most criminals would be sent to. Tron replies, “When I get out, can I still traffic rocks to the community?” causing another man to say, “Absolutely not!” while holding up the tape recorder. Tron catches on and says, “You’re right, selling rocks would be wrong!” and the men break into quiet laughter. Many white-collar criminals do not consider their offenses to be serious crimes, and some return from short stints in jail to commit the same crime again, while even the smallest drug offense comes with a disproportional amount of prison time.
Tron’s sentencing at the Senate Sub-Committee Hearing on Narcotics completes the unequal treatment of drug offenders in comparison to white-collar criminals. Two white lawyers in suits, in comparison to the harebrained legal aide Charles received, flank Tron, who appears in sweatsuit instead of the orange jumpsuit Charles wore. The sentencing process is a game to Tron; when he is asked if he has been a cocaine dealer for seven years, Tron pleads the fifth and winks at his lawyer. Tron pleads the fifth to all following questions and shortly after, the sentencing is over. The sentencing concludes with “that will be all, sir, good afternoon” in place of the lengthy, insulting speech Charles received, and Tron’s lawyer announces that he got Tron’s already short sentence reduced to a month. While Charles, representing the non-white drug criminals unconstitutionally searched, arrested and marked as felons, is given life in prison, Tron, as the privileged rich white man with influence, is given only one month. Tron grabs his lawyers’ hands and raises them in the air in a victory gesture, the camera flashing on their smiling faces as a black drug dealer experiences the incredible privilege of the alternate white justice system for the first time.
- Devon Bacso, bacsod@kenyon.edu
