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“We don’t have all the facts to convict him either.”

“I won’t convict him without understanding the financial angle,” Angie spoke up.

“I say, no harm, no foul.” Pradeep said from down the table. “As long as Shepherd’s insurance will pay for the repairs for Mrs. Larson’s house, the rest all seem like harmless pranks to me. Not enough to send him to jail. Certainly not for any length of time. At most, I’d say he should face a fine.”

Ty’s expression turned mulish. “It’s clear he did what they said. Vandalized Hernandez’s property and pool. Crashed into Mrs. Larson’s house. He’s been menacing Hernandez.”

Ty’s attitude took me by surprise. Objectively, what he said was true. I believed Shepherd was the man in the reindeer suit. But I’d expected more empathy for bad decisions out of Ty. Nothing Shepherd had done had been truly malicious. Just bad judgement. As the newest player on the team, Hernandez was probably used to team pranks. The hit and run was harder to excuse.

Ty’s stance seemed over the top, given I had a sneaking suspicion he’d participated in his share of new team member teasing in his soccer days. Granted, Shepherd had taken it too far, but I hadn’t expected Ty to be so unyielding.

Mary, Angie, Pradeep, and the others all grunted their agreement, and Shelly gazed around the table, meeting each of our gazes head-on.

“What I’m hearing is that we have a split. What evidence or testimony do we need to review? We need a unanimous decision, and I don’t know about you, but I want to go home.”

Pradeep folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not convicting if we don’t work out the financial angle. At least, not on the most serious charges. Malicious mischief is all I’d agree to, based on what we have now.”

“No one made him hit and run,” Ty argued. “That was all him, no matter who may have put him up to the pranks.”

I sighed. True. Leaving the scene had been a terrible decision on top of his bad choices. If Shepherd had stayed and checked on Mrs. Larson instead of doing a runner, he’d be more sympathetic.

“Let’s take another vote, and see where we’re at,” Shelly said.

We scribbled our votes and passed them up silently. After a few minutes to tabulate, Shelly sighed.

“We’ve got a unanimous guilty verdict on the hit and run. But we’ve still got a way to go on the rest of the charges. We have three votes to acquit for the counts of harassment, stalking, and malicious mischief.”

Ty slouched in his chair, arms crossed. Dressed in a collared navy shirt and jeans, his jaw freshly shaven, I couldn’t help but admire the bulge his biceps made under the shirt. He looked strong and sure. Immovable. His posture mirrored most of our group.

Shelly must have arrived at the same conclusion I had. “Let’s take five, and I’ll consult with Ramon on where we go from here.”

We milled around, and I refreshed my coffee. Ty approached, his presence like a buzz under my skin.

“What are the chances of us getting this done today?” he groused, gripping the back of his neck and scrubbing a hand up over his head.

Reading the other jurors, disgruntled seemed to be the overall disposition. My own irritation held the edge of sexual frustration, but most of the rest of our group just looked tired. Ready to be done. I firmed my shoulders. Fatigue wasn’t a compelling reason to give up on my principles. Ty’s steady gaze, almost resigned, made me think he’d come to the same conclusion.

Being at odds should have felt normal for us, but it stung. I wanted us to be on the same page. About everything. But maybe that wasn’t realistic. We weren’t kids anymore, moldable and easy-going. We’d both grown and matured, become more fixed in some ways. Had our share of bumps and bruises along the way. And Ty’s sense of justice, his honor, were traits I admired. It was part of why going toe-to-toe with him was so satisfying: he’d give as good as he got.

If I wanted to win, it needed to be fair and square. I had to convince him and my fellow jurors to vote together. See things the way I did. But if Ty dug in, would the conflict ruin our budding relationship before we began?

We spent the next few hours hashing details out, reviewing the evidence on the other charges. Round and round we went, with Pradeep, Angie, and I the strongest voices for acquitting. I couldn’t convict based on what we had. Not for all charges. Not if it meant he’d go to jail for years. The hit and run were punishment enough. He’d for sure lose his job and do a few months in the county jail. Community service and fines for the rest I could get behind, but the felony stalking charge could mean five years alone. Add in the harassment and property damage counts, and he could lose longer. My soft heart considered that a raw deal for a few hot dogs and lawn ornaments. Especially if someone else put him up to it.

Who would have the most to gain from Hernandez being off his game? His other teammates? Rival teams? Shepherd may be a rabid fan who hated Hernandez for leaving the Yankees for his favorite, but it was hard for me to believe that was enough motive for everything. Eventually, the fans would accept Hernandez. Especially if he helped them win. It was a sore spot that they were still paying his exorbitant contract, and he’d been bumped down to the farm team for a rehab assignment. Once he was back to full health and winning with the Mariners, fans would forgive him. Anything to win.

Shepherd maintained his innocence, but he hadn’t taken the stand in his own defense. His attorney had probably advised against it. But the need to know thewhyburned. It didn’t add up. Giving in and voting to convict would leave me unable to sleep at night. I’d obsess. Replay the case over and over in my dreams when my body gave out. I knew myself. I had to vote my conscience. Glancing around at the tired faces of my fellow jurors, I pushed down one guilt in favor of another. Doing the easy thing had never been me.

Ty looked frustrated, seated a few chairs down from me. There would be no under-the-table groping today. Maybe ever. We were at an impasse.

I spent our lunch break poring over the evidence we’d requested, examining the records for clues. Anything that would help us reach a decision we could sleep easy on.

When I’d signed up for jury duty, I’d considered it a lark. Something harmless to take my mind off work and give me a break from my reality. I’d been so wrong. There were no open and shut cases. We held someone’s life in our hands. Their future. And I couldn’t feel good about making a hasty decision, no matter how much drawing out the process hurt me personally. I needed to get back to my life. I glanced around the table, Sam was munching quietly at a tuna sandwich, Angie inhaling a cobb salad. We all had lives to get back to.

But that didn’t make Randy Shepherd’s matter any less.

I scanned another page of Shepherd’s financials, looking for anomalies. Any evidence I could provide my peers that he wasn’t the only villain we had to consider in our decisions.

Randy ate a lot of pizza. Not exactly a smoking gun. Pizza, pizza, and a gym membership. Something about the gym struck a chord. A vague memory from Hernandez’s testimony. Hernandez had an endorsement deal with the chain. Shepherd had begun his gym membership in May. Well before the incidents with Hernandez. Was it more proof of him stalking Hernandez before he progressed to property damage, or something altogether different?