[ WP ] You are on the jury of a crime you committed .

The trial had been a 3 day ordeal. I didn ’ t pay attention to the evidence at all, because it was all mine. It had been one long painful blur. I found myself staring at the defendant the whole time. He was some guy they had picked up with a knife close to the crime scene. Talk about wrong place wrong time, and triply bad luck to be carrying a pocket knife, which was the same kind of weapon I had used. 
 
 I had thought about it long and hard during the proceedings, and I couldn ’ t let this man suffer for his crimes. I had done the deed. 
 
 “ It ’ s eleven to one Ryan. ” A skinny male juror to my left told me. “ You ’ re just stalling at this point. All the evidence points to him. Why are you resisting? ” Everyone was looking to me for an explanation. I ’ m sure I was sweating bullets. 
 
 “ Because it ’ s all circumstantial. ” I told them. Circumstantial, that was a good word. I had heard it on lots of crime dramas. “ He was clearly in the neighborhood to buy some skittles, and was carrying a pocket knife on him from his boy scout days. I mean, he ’ s a boy scout, and he works in the legal system. He ’ s got that going for him right? ” Most of the jurors didn ’ t buy this, but one man who had started on my side appeared to be listening. 
 
 “ And the blood on the knife? ” An older female juror asked as she looked at her watch. 
 
 “ He cut himself picking the dirt out from under his fingernails. ” I responded. 
 
 “ You don ’ t think it ’ s suspicious at all that he had bleached the blood on the knife? ” The skinny one asked me again, looking almost bored. We had been over this a half dozen times. 
 
 “ I mean, you ’ ve got ta keep your knife clean right? What if somebody else wanted to use it or something? ” 
 
 “ That ’ s enough. ” A large man who claimed to play professional sports cut in. “ What ’ s going on Ryan? We ’ ve been at this for hours. There ’ s something else going on. Tell us what it is. ” I sighed. There was no getting around it. 
 
 “ I did it. ” I tell them. They exchange glances and wait for me to say more. “ I killed him, the pocket knife was mine. ” I ’ m expecting them to recoil, and a few of them lean away from me in their chairs. 
 
 “ Even if we believed you. ” The large man said. “ There ’ s no way to convict you instead, unless you provided the evidence for your conviction yourself. ” What, my own confession couldn ’ t set this man free? How was that possible. 
 
 The big man sighed. “ Never the less, if this means you ’ re dead set on fighting a conviction we ’ d better tell the judge we have a hung jury. ” I breathed a sigh of relief. A lot of paperwork later we were outside the courthouse. The man would go free, and so would I everybody won. 
 
 “ How do you explain the blood on the knife. ” The big man said from behind me. 
 
 “ What? ” I say to him, not believed that we ’ re still discussing this. 
 
 “ Don ’ t you think it ’ s a little strange he bleached the knife and then didn ’ t clean it off? It ’ s a little weird to be walking around with a knife with bleach on it isn ’ t it? ” I looked confused at him, and he just looked disgusted and walked off. The man just couldn ’ t let it go. 
 
 At that moment the defendant walked out. He caught my eye and walked over. “ He was still breathing when you left by the way. ” He tells me. “ I saw you leave and knew my next victim would be an easy one. All I had to do was hang around the crime scene, after I had finished him off, carry a suspiciously bloody knife. I had to bleach it to leave some doubt, but a little blood would get me arrested for sure. Then all I had to do was call someone at work before the cops showed up to make sure you ’ d be on the next homicide jury. ”
