[ WP ] You 're a juror being brought in to determine the fate of an alleged murderer . The previous jury was thrown out due to witnessing inadmissible evidence . One of the previous jurors left a small inscription under the ledge of the table in front of your seat . You 're shocked to see what it says .

Juror number seven, that's me. I've spent nearly the last three months playing second fiddle to the original number seven as an alternate. Cases which are already won in the court of public opinion do that to ensure a fair trial. They ca n't have any of the original jurors casting votes due to what they heard come out of Nancy Grace's pie hole, so they get a bunch of alternates to sit in as well. We're treated just as poorly as all the normal jurors with one minor exception... Our opinions do n't matter. 
 
 But mine does now, because the original juror number seven is in a mental institution and awaiting charges for possible misconduct. Rumor has it he snuck a cell phone into his room at the motel where we're all forced to stay, and he had been receiving information on the case from outside sources. Usually when that happens it's someone hired by the defense attorney to help manipulate the outcome. But the fact that juror number 7 ended up in a psychiatric institution was unexpected. 
 
 The US Marshals overseeing our security made me move into his old room because they wanted to keep all the main jurors together on a single floor. The room had been cleaned by housekeeping and then gone over with a fine-tooth comb by some of the Marshals with dogs and everything. They even did a check with some weird piece of equipment that I assume was intended to find electronic communication devices. The thought that my room might be tapped was creepy, but I knew it was n't likely. They were just being extra cautious since the original juror number seven embarrassed their team by sneaking a cell phone past them. 
 
 I put my bags down and laid back on the bed. In between our days at the courthouse there was n't much to do. They had removed all our televisions and we were only allowed a bunch of old books from the nearby public library. No magazines or newspapers since they might contain information on the trial which we were n't allowed to know. I decided it was best to put my clothes away since I'd likely be there for some time. 
 
 The case was n't too unusual, just gruesome. The defendant's name was Michael Fullerson. Up until about six months ago he was a normal husband and father of three. He worked at a hardware store and attended PTA meetings. Even belonged to an amateur bowling league. But that changed when his wife stopped showing up to work. He stopped going to bowl and he began calling in sick more often at work. Three weeks later his kids did n't show up to school on Monday, or Tuesday, or even Wednesday. Apparently the school tried to contact Michael at work but they informed the school administrator that his employment had been terminated. That's when they sent cops to his house. 
 
 It was what they call a `` health and welfare'' check, meaning they're not suspecting anything. They just wanted to make sure everyone was okay. The cops found Michael in the back yard doing what he said was gardening, but the holes he was filling in looked more like graves. One adult sized grave, and three much smaller ones. Of course the forensic team uncovered the bodies of the Fullerson family, otherwise none of us would be here. According to the reports we've been provided it seems Michael stabbed his wife twelve times, then nearly caved her face in with a hammer he kept in a toolbox under the sink. The two oldest children were twelve and ten, and Michael had choked them both with his bare hands. The youngest was only six and had drowned in the bath tub. It was enough to make my guts churn, and I had a pretty iron-like constitution when it came to gore. The photos of the autopsy were just about the worst thing I ever saw. You know what the worst thing about seeing a... Hey, wait a minute... 
 
 I stopped putting away my clothes and let that train of thought derail itself. I was standing over the open top drawer of the medium-sized vanity across from the bed looking down at a copy of the King James Bible as distributed by the Gideons to just about every hotel in the United States. The fact that it was in the drawer is n't what gave me pause, that was n't strange. What was strange is that I could have sworn there was already a Bible in the nightstand drawer where I had placed the clock. Watching the damn clock tick on throughout the day while I was trapped here only made things worse, so I had gotten in the habit of hiding it. I walked over to the night stand and opened the drawer. 
 
 Just as I thought, the Gideons left two Bibles in this particular motel room. No, that was n't it. This Bible seemed more worn, like it had been used. The Bibles found in hotel rooms were usually brand new because no one ever touched them. This one had worn edges and faded gold leaf letters on the cover. I picked it up and opened the cover to find a slot glued to the inside cover which confirmed my suspicions. This Bible had been checked-out at the library by one of the interns sent to get us things approved by the Marshals. Which means this Bible was specifically requested by the original juror number seven. But why would he request a copy of the King James Bible when there was already one in his room? 
 
 I began flipping through the thin pages wondering if maybe he had stashed a joint somewhere in the spine. I'm not that lucky, and would I even want to smoke anything which belonged to a guy who just got institutionalized? Anything he was on would likely drive me crazy too. I stopped thumbing through pages when I came across some writing on the borders along the printed paragraphs. Looks like someone had taken notes... Wait, those are n't notes about the good book... 
 
 *'' They were not human... They look like people... They did n't bleed... They did n't sleep... They take someone and replace them'' * 
 
 It went on for about four pages. I did n't know what that meant, but I'm sure it had something to do with how juror number seven went crazy. They asked him all kinds of questions during the jury selection process, but they never asked if he was a fucking loon... That's when it hit me. These notes were n't the mad ramblings of a crazy man accidentally chosen to sit on a jury. These were notes about the case itself. We all had notebooks we could use, but they were technically the property of the courthouse and could be inspected at any moment with the judges permission to make sure we were n't harboring outside information. That means juror number seven would have needed a private place to write things down, and a Bible was the best choice since no one would think it seemed out of the ordinary in the motel room. 
 
 I started back at the beginning and read through the frantic notes piece by piece... *'' The bodies were autopsied and now they're gone... The coroner is missing and the bodies disappeared... Why did he say they were drained of their blood'' *... That's true, we have n't heard any testimony from the coroner. The defense attorney had even mentioned how nice it would be to get a second autopsy done, but then the judge reprimanded him. I always assumed by his tone that he had meant to sound like a smart ass to the judge, but I did n't know what he meant at the time. The bodies disappeared from the morgue and now the coroner is missing too? Why had we not been told about this? 
 
 The next part made my hands shake. The autopsy report had stated there was organic matter found in the bodies, but the rest of the report had been omitted in black bars across the pages we were given. I remembered that the prosecutor had theorized the so-called `` organic matter'' got inside the bodies after they were buried. After all, they were found under a few feet of dirt. But I always thought it was weird how the prosecutor was trying to hypothesize when he could have just brought in the coroner if it was really that important. Or why not just allow the full uncensored report into evidence? 
 
 *'' They were filled with straw... They did n't bleed because they were filled with straw... They look like people but they're not human... They take your place and they become you... Where do they take the people they replace? `` *
