[ 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 .

The juror pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the pain from a headache that was on the cusp of becoming overwhelming. In the background, the defense attorney droned on, his voice a monotone mumble as he struggled to his way through his closing statements. The judge stared off in the distance, hardly paying attention. 
 
 The trial was coming to a close and everyone in the packed courtroom was exhausted. The juror had made up his mind within the first few days but had nonetheless been required to sit through the endless series of testimonies and countless *voir* *dires* where the juries would be hastily shuffled to a cramped room in the back of the courthouse while the defense and Crown attorneys argued about the admissibility of certain pieces of evidence. 
 
 ‘ and for these reasons, in the interest of justice, I implore you to acquit, ’ the defense attorney concluded. He looked defeated. He knew that he had failed. 
 
 The judge began to give his final direction to the jury. The juror tried to pay attention for a brief period of time before losing himself in his own mind. The case was entirely simple, he thought. He replayed the evidence in his mind. 
 
 The accused, a middle-aged Caucasian male had pushed his way into a busy convenience store and attempted to rob the clerk at gunpoint. The cashier, a older gentleman who had recently immigrated from India, refused. When the cashier began to reach under the counter, the accused had gunned him down and fled the scene. 
 
 The trial had dragged for over a week and the prosecutors had removed any iota of doubt for the minds of the jury. They had called tens of eye witnesses who testified that they saw the accused pull the trigger and put forward footage from three separate CCTV cameras. A camera in the store captured the shooting while two cameras fixated on the exterior of the building capture the accused ’ s attempted escape. The police had located the suspect less than a kilometer from the shooting where he was trying to steal a getaway vehicle. 
 
 The defense counsel had tried valiantly to argue the contrary. His cross-examinations were ruthless, leaving the witnesses shaking as they walked slowly away from the stand, but at the end of the day, he simply could overcome the crushing evidence. 
 
 The juror ’ s headache was becoming difficult to manage and he rested his head on the edge of the seat in front of him. At this point, he didn ’ t care what the judge thought. He just wanted to get the trial over with. If the first attempt at convicting the accused hadn ’ t ended in a mistrial, he wouldn ’ t have even been here, he realized. 
 
 As he rested his head, something etched into the seat in front of him caught his eye. It looked as though someone had taken a small pocket knife and tried to inscribe a word on the oak seat. He brushed away the bits of wood that had splinted up and squinted as he tried to make out the word. It started with a ‘ T ’, it appeared, or maybe a ‘ Y ’? No, it must be a ‘ T ’. Four letters. The last were barely more than scratches, and he struggled to read what was written. 
 
 Suddenly, the juror ’ s heart stopped. Everything became clear. The mistrial, the constant *voir* *dires*, the defense counsel's exasperated look throughout the entire trial. 
 
 *Twin*. 
 
 The word that was etched into the seat in front of him was ‘ *Twin* ’. 

