Rosa sits impatiently as opinions flow around the room. Her twin toddlers, Ava and Enrique, are clearly in the forefront of her thoughts. “Can we put this killer in prison, already? “, Rosa finally belted out. James, the “old school” seventy-two year old veteran, seemed convinced that, "The accused", Charles, was guilty from the start. Our randomly selected group of so-called average people...how could we be knowledgeable enough to determine someone’s innocence or guilt? Why would we be gate keepers standing to slam the metal bars and throw away the key? Am I too sympathetic? Empathetic? Naive? Charles, referred to by the judge as, “The suspect in question”, couldn’t have murdered his parents. His demeanor was somber and broken, yet he was the only one home..well, he and his ten-year old sister Sara, who allegedly never woke up during the sounds of bullets ripping through walls and doors; the sound of bullets shattering her mother’s leg; her father’s skull and arm. The sound of her mother’s last pleas for help and mercy before suffering a fatal shot. Did Sara’s fear convince her to rationalize the noises as part of a dream, or a scary movie playing in the den? Yet, the 11 other jurors are convinced Charles is guilty; but, beyond a reasonable doubt?! Juror #3, Bill; a regular, “Good ’Ole Boy”, couldn’t reason his way out of finding Charles guilty. Charles had been to the gun range every Sunday for the past year; according to his sister’s convincing testimony, but does that make him guilty? Apparently Bill thought so. Who could possibly provoke their eyes to create that many real tears? That was Bill’s reasoning for why he thought Sara had no part in the killings. Young blonde girls just drip with the appearance of innocence. At least much more than a young guy like Charles; dyed-black hair, painted finger nails, and a piercing in any tiny area of his body that didn't already have a tatoo. Here I sit, jurror #7, having been taught to never judge a book by its cover, or be influenced to believe anything that I didn't know to be true. I need more proof, something solid to hang my hat on. Then, as we walk, for the third week in a row, single-file into the jury room, I realize something that not even the lawyer's had discovered. The reason why Charles was willing to go down for a murder he didn't commit. Afterall, wouldn't we all trade places and take any pain and punishment, to save our own child?