Joseph McCarthy paced the room with an appearance of anxiety and anticipation, anger and disgust, and perhaps even fear. Well-definitely fear. They do call it the "Red SCARE" for a reason, and Joseph was a huge advocate for it. He was absolutely terrified of Communism and expressed this in the form of an all-out homefront assault on the practice, hoping to obliterate anyone caught red handed. He was in this room-an interrogation room-waiting to speak to a couple convicted of spying for the Soviet Union and even leaking information on America's atomic bomb program. This couple was Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. First they were blacklisted and not allowed employment because of their alleged activities. Then the investigation progressed and the trial ensued, followed by the conviction. They were to be executed for their crimes within 24 hours, and Joseph's only job at this point was to get as much information about the Soviets, or what the Rosenbergs had revealed about the US, as he could from them. Joseph worked up his confidence in those moments leading up to the Rosenbergs' arrival, convincing himself of his authority, reminding himself of how he went from an ordinary Wisconsin senator to a symbol of power in the conservative political realm; he wasn't going to let these Commies forget that.
Then they entered, along with their police escorts. They looked like...well, normal people. Not obvious epitomes of evil that "their kind" had been made out to be, not bloodthirsty savages who eat their young. Rather, they had expressions of blank stone as their handcuffs were removed. Julius and Ethel didn't look at each other, didn't appear afraid, didn't appear sad. Ethel surveyed the dull grey room and single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, nodding slowly as she did. Julius gripped her hand tightly when his were freed, and they proceeded to sit in two metal chairs that stood across the matching table from Joseph. The couple stared at him in a way that appeared almost empty.
"Now you both know why you're here. If you'll please cooperate and give me what I'm looking for, we can get this over with easily and...painlessly." He spat out the last word sharply; it wasn't like he really cared if the two's experience was painful in any way. In fact, he would have liked to see how much mental, emotional, physical pain he could cause them. But even he was able to see the flawed ethics in that desire. "Before we begin, I'd like to ask you not to blame myself for your fate. I had no real involvement in this case, it was HUAC's business-"
Ethel let out a harsh, eerie laugh. This was met with a scowl and irritated reply, "Is there something you'd like to say, Ethel?"
"HUAC?" Ethel laughed, " The 'House of Un-American Activities Committee'. Un-American. How do they know what's classified as 'American'? They God or something? I dunno, I'd say what they wanna to do to us is pretty un-American. Just a thought."
"Well dear, they can decide what's American." Joseph said in an arrogant, condescending tone, "They have the law on their side too. Familiar with the Smith Act? It states that it is unlawful in America for one to pursue a violent overthrow of our great government."
"She knows what it is!" Julius lost his temper for a brief moment but drew back immediately. "However, we never actually did that-explicitly violated that law. Sure, we may have leaked some information to the Kremlin, but it's not like we were hoping to wipe this country off the map or anything."
"Well-" Joseph started.
"None of you really know what you're doing, do you? You claim to be trying to purify this nation, and have been putting together these lists of alleged 'spies' for years, but it's a laughing stock! You constantly contradict yourselves and it's ridiculous!" Ethel raved.
Joseph's anger was growing. "We have been more than successful! Did you not hear of the case of Alger Hiss?"
"Alger Hiss." She scoffed. "He was just another name. Some guy mentioned him, and that's all. That's not evidence. You and this HUAC are so desperate that you even scrounged Hollywood for communist writers and directors simply because artists tend to be liberals. What did they call those 'Commies'? The Hollywood Ten? A joke."
Joseph slammed his fists down on the metal table. "I will not let you question the integrity of my efforts! They are crucial to the healthy advancement of our nation! I will go down in history as a hero!" He shrieked, veins in his forehead and neck throbbing under his red skin.
"You'll certainly go down in history," Julius said coolly, completely unaffected by Joseph's outburst, "but for starting a movement of recklessness, xenophobia, and paranoia about things you just don't understand. I can see it now, textbooks of the future, teaching of… Hmm... Let's call it…..McCarthyism, shall we? Oh, you'll be famous. I believe there's already been a character for a play written in your image. But her name is Abigail Williams, sir." Julius's expression was dark as the New York sky that night; there was silence in the room. Then the heavy door behind the Rosenbergs opened, and one of the escorts said that their time was up. Joseph waved the man off and turned to face the wall. He let out a heavy sigh and leaned against it on his forearms.
Ethel looked over at Julius, and for the first time during that whole ordeal the two really looked at each other. They shared a look that required no words, ready for whatever was to come. The Rosenbergs stood, hands still entwined, and exited the room . For what seemed like hours, Joseph could hear the haunting sound of Ethel Rosenberg's heels, which echoed off the walls of the cold cement corridor.
