The Vote

The Vote

“Let’s vote and go home!”

“We’re supposed to be deliberating. Besides, you aren’t in charge.” Five nodded in my direction and it was clear she was here for the full jury experience.

“He’s guilty, without a doubt. Why debate what we all know?” One was not interested in being here any longer than he had to be.

“Let’s get started.” I still couldn’t believe I was here. The summons arrived, I showed up for jury selection and was the second juror picked. Now I was the foreperson. To be on the jury of the man being tried for a crime you committed would have made an unbelievable plot for a movie. Yet here I was.

I hadn’t even been a suspect and if I kept things on track in the jury room, there was no chance I ever would be. It was like a sign. It was time to turn my life around and all it would take is one innocent man to pay the price.

“He had motive, he had tried to get his neighbour evicted,” Nine said, “It isn’t a stretch to think he took matters into his own hands.”

“And his prints were on the knife,” Four continued, “he was covered in the victim’s blood.” Three and Ten nodded in agreement.

It was a stroke of luck I’d been wearing gloves when the victim interrupted me mid-burglary. Another that the knife was within reach on the counter. The third was that the noise of our struggle would aggravate the already hostile relationship between neighbours, that this would cause the defendant to stomp over to the apartment and burst in when his neighbour didn’t answer. I guess it’s an automatic reaction when you see someone with a knife in their chest, to remove it, regardless of how you feel about them.

Eleven jumped in, “And no witnesses to back up his story. My gut says someone would have seen or heard something in the commotion.” A reasonable assumption because it’s true. Someone would have, and they did. I heard him and I saw him enter the apartment as I snuck out the window.

As each juror’s comments moved us closer to a guilty verdict, I was in disbelief. Was it really this easy to convict an innocent person?

“I like to give people the benefit of the doubt but there is just so much evidence.” Six added. Seven and Twelve echoed, “So much evidence.”

Eight jumped in, “Agreed. Much of the evidence is circumstantial but when so many circumstances align… well… you reap what you sow.”

How could the evidence could pile up so quickly against an innocent person? How can one person be so unlucky as to stumble upon the murder of the person that, if given the chance, they likely would murder?  How could I be so lucky as to murder a person someone else hated enough to murder?

But did I really need an innocent man to go to jail just to ensure I didn’t?

Was what I perceived as a series of lucky breaks really just a test to see if I would do the right thing? Could I really just walk away after doing this and start a new life? Wouldn’t the guilt and remorse just be another version of punishment? Could I really feel justified in doing this?

“Now that everyone has had a chance to speak, this seems like a good time for a first vote.”

“Should be the only vote.” There was no changing One’s mind, for sure. But maybe someone could see the truth.

I passed twelve ballots around the table and the room fell silent. Everyone looked down at their piece of paper as if waiting for someone else to be the first to write something. Finally, one by one, each juror wrote their verdict, folded the paper and passed it up the table.

I could feel a pit grow deep in my stomach as I wondered if I could actually go through with this. I was so close now.

I had never been a suspect and after all this time, there was little chance that the police would find a reason to set their sights on me. I was going to be free regardless of what happened to this man.

I read the first ballot. “Guilty.”

I opened and read each ballot one by one. Would anyone see the truth?

“That’s eleven guilty, one vote left.”

I already knew the answer because the last vote was mine.