Like always, the jury was selected at random. Those who were deemed unfit through a file review and a series of questions were removed from the pool until only 12 of us remained. The trial had gone on for weeks, and there was no end in sight. It was one for the Civics books that would be printed for years to come.

The defense was good, great even. I could tell by the reactions of my fellow jurors that they really believed the defendant was innocent. I tried my best to push the opposite opinion to the group. None of them listened. I wasn’t the most vocal personality and maybe that’s why, they didn’t feel enough convinction in my words. Well, they couldn’t.

I’d been mute for years, unable to speak. I’d grown very good at reading lips since I didn’t need to focus on talking. That particular skill was both handy and distressing when a meager three days into the trial I watched the defendant lean over to his attorney and say some words he never should have said. Words that implied so much weight and guilt that even if I could speak, I’d never have been stupid enough to say aloud.