A/N: Eleven jurors from a capital murder case remember juror number eight (played by Henry Fonda) from the 1957 movie "12 Angry Men".


Reasonable Doubt

"It's been five years" the large man said as he surveyed the ten other men in the room. "Five years since that horrible, hot night we were locked in that sixteen by twenty-four room to decide a young man's fate. No fan, no food and no hope of getting out of there quickly thanks to...to him. I guess we should be grateful that we even had a water dispenser and a men's room."

"I woulda been grateful if he woulda had to go home and we coulda used one of them alternate jurors" another man with a hat said. "I don't even know his name. I don't know any of youse names."

"Davis. His name was Davis" an elderly man said.

"How do you know that?"

"I asked him."

"Figures, whatever your name is. You were the first to vote with 'em. I only know you as Number nine."

"Now there's no need to get personal" another man said. "Names aren't important here. I have an idea - why don't we sit in the same positions we did that night?" There was general agreement and the eleven arranged themselves around the long table, some switching positions to match their old seating spots. "And I was the foreman as juror number one, so I sat on this end. Now there should be an empty spot..." his voice trailed off as he looked towards an unclaimed chair near the other end of the table "...yes, that seems about right. Davis...you said his name was Davis? You know that for sure?" the foreman asked number nine.

"That's right."

"Okay. Davis sure was one for stirring things up, wasn't he? If it hadn't been for him speaking up, we would have been out of here in record time. Even if he had disagreed to start with, a normal person would have seen which way the crowd was going and switched his vote. Now let's see, you were the first to side with him. Why?"

Number nine cleared his throat. He may have been the oldest member of the room by far, but his voice was quite strong. "Because I liked him. Oh, I didn't know the man personally - never met him before that night. But he seemed earnest, and certainly took his job as juror seriously. I wanted to hear him out even if I wasn't sure if the boy did it or not. Unlike you gentlemen, I'm retired so I'm far less likely to rush things."

"Okay. Then, ah, number five was next I believe."

Everyone's eyes turned to the youngest man in the room. Number five, normally a very quiet man, was on familiar ground with these people and had no problem stating his opinion now. "That's right. I thought the kid did it too, but just because someone comes from the slums like me doesn't mean they're a criminal" he said as he stared at number three. "Living in those kinds of areas, you can't electrocute a man for guilt by association."

"Reasonable" the foreman said. "Presumed innocence is the bedrock of our system. Next was" he said, thinking back and pivoting to his right "number eleven. You changed your mind in the middle of the vote."

"That is right" the dark-haired man with a European accent agreed. "I was thinking it over during the vote, and I had to try and avoid all of my own prejudices. Yes, even a simple foreigner that makes watches can have them - you would be surprised. Or maybe not. When I did that, I had to vote innocent too."

"We're human, and it can be hard to separate our feelings from facts sometimes. Um...number two?"

"I found the facts very interesting. What I thought were overwhelming points for the prosecution just didn't add up under scrutiny. As a bank teller I'm used to numbers, and they're boring and easy to add. It's quite a different matter when you're talking about testimony or something as simple as a duplicate knife."

"Switchblade" number five interjected.

"Switchblade, thank you. It was enough to sway me away from my initial opinion thanks to number eight."

"Thank you," the foreman said "I think number eight said something about that - about how the facts were presented one way but weren't questioned as they might have been. Number five...no wait, you already had...number six was next."

"I was. I'm a painter, so I don't go getting into many fights. But you know, people DO say things they don't mean sometimes, like saying you're going to kill someone. I came to the realization that we weren't trying to find out who else might have done it because that wasn't our job - just whether the boy had or not. That's when I switched."

"We don't solve the crimes; we just hear evidence that's presented" the foreman said. "Let's see, about then it rained and then you changed your vote, number seven."

"Yeah - I just wanted to get it over quicker. I've watched enough games to see when momentum is changing to the other team, and maybe I had time to get out with a rain delay."

"But you truly believed the boy was innocent?"

"Well, let's say that even though I know he ain't clean I think he wasn't that dirty, either. It just took me a bit longer than some to analyze the other team's offense."

The foreman chuckled. "Sports metaphors are just that; sometimes they sum up what twice as many words won't. Now let's see, I changed my vote the same time number twelve did."

Number twelve pushed back his glasses. "Well, I kind of had one foot on the sidewalk and one in the street there for a bit" he admitted. "It was guilty, then not, then guilty and then finally not again with the glasses bit. Like number 4, without the woman actually seeing what happened there was no witness. You're not going to sell a product if you can't get it seen by the customer."

"Which leads us to number four. The man that ah, never sweats."

"Don't make fun; it might interest you to know that without my body's normal cooling mechanism I can get pretty uncomfortable. But without my glasses I get the most uncomfortable of all and rarely remove them when I'm awake; I know others' vanity, however, motivate them in entirely the opposite manner. It's a small thing, and I completely overlooked it until number nine pointed it out."

"Just because details are small doesn't make them less important" the foreman agreed. "Which brings us to number ten, sir."

"It wasn't one little thing that swung me. It was everything together; number eight kept tearing down the wall until there weren't any bricks left. If a customer brings a car into my garage with a problem, we rule out the most likely things first and leave the nitpicky stuff unchecked unless we have to. With this case, we eliminated all the stuff that seemed clear cut, which left me with reasonable doubt. Not convinced, but a doubter."

"And that leaves me" number three blurted out, not waiting for the foreman to direct it to him. "I don't think I have to go into it; I was angry at my son and taking it out on the defendant. When I realized that, it didn't matter what I felt so much as what I knew and I had to vote not guilty."

"I think that pretty much summarizes how we felt about..."

"Wait" number eleven said, raising his hand. "I don't think you ever said how you changed your vote." There were murmurs as many of the jurors thought about it and couldn't come up with any occasion where number one had stated anything beyond a 'guilty' or 'not guilty' in the case beyond trying to maintain order.

"No, that's true enough. We also haven't addressed the elephant in the room; the suicide of number eight."

It was true. They were reminiscing about the night and had summarized the arguments, but no one had talked about number eight's death after everyone voted not guilty. After managing to sway everyone to his side by persuasive and logical argument, he had jumped out the window to his death. A mistrial was called and the case was litigated again months later.

"Very well gentlemen. Let me say first that number eight's name was not Davis, but in fact Yarnell. He was employed by the government as a spy but it was found out that he was working both sides. I was placed in this position to make sure that Mr. Yarnell didn't make it through the evening. This was no trial; this was an assassination waiting to happen."

"So you hired me!" number seven yelled across the room. When the others looked at him, he quickly explained. "I work for another government, and let me right now that I hate baseball. I was hired to hypnotize number eight during a restroom break and trigger him to jump out the window when we were done."

"Wait a minute - you hypnotized him? You mean I didn't HAVE to push him out the window?" number four asked. When number eight had started stepping through the window, he had rushed to the opening to try and pull him back - or so he had claimed at the time. "You'll understand if I don't let the Chairman know about that little detail. They think I succeeded."

"Frankly, I'm surprised at his stamina" number five observed. "Did you notice how he was holding his side when he went to the window? That was where I slipped my knife between his ribs."

"You knifed him?" number seven asked.

"I told you the truth - I know how to use a knife. And I grew up in the slums too - but it was the slums of Berlin, not New York."

"You must have stabbed him not too long after I poisoned him" number nine noted. When the others looked at him, he shrugged. "I told you I don't rush things. If you looked closely at his forehead you could see he was starting to flush a little - he didn't have long anyway. And just because I'm retired doesn't mean I take the odd assignment now and then to keep my hand in it."

"You see gentlemen, my government hired each of you independent of the others. Number eleven, didn't your remote shocker work?"

The former watchmaker shook his head. "I don't understand it - it should have worked. I fully expected him to grab his chest from a heart attack, but he didn't even change expression. I am embarrassed for myself and the Kremlin." He hung his head in disgust.

"Ok right, we're all killers? What about you, Mr. Garage man?" number seven asked.

Number ten grinned. "Car bomb, of course. Turn the key and *boom* it goes. He wouldn't have made it out of the parking lot."

"And you?" he asked, turning to number two.

"I know a few things about coins while working at laundering money in my earlier days - it's interesting work. But I slipped a few into number eight's pocket and after they've been in contact an hour later they go off. Not big like that gentleman's car bomb, but big enough to kill him."

"I wasn't going to kill him" number three admitted. "My son, whom I was estranged from, was killed by an assassin. When I thought about it, I wondered if number eight still had a father that was alive. I hesitated, and when that happens, I take it as a sign."

"So that was your son that was killed in the photograph you showed us?" number eleven asked.

"The picture? Nah, that came with the wallet."

Number seven mentally ticked off the people in the room. "Number twelve, what was your method?"

The taller man took off his dark-rimmed glasses. "It's not an item you're going to find on any store shelves, but my country's...ah...marketing department" he said with a laugh "came up with a little something when the opportunity presented itself" he said as he gave his glasses a sudden yank; the two lens frames separated at the bridge and a thin garrote wire was barely visible between, spanning the gap.

"Handy." Number seven's gaze swept around the table and ended beside him on his right. "I think we've left you out, son."

Number six flexed his hands. "Painters get strong hands and arms hauling all those buckets around. Number eight was going to have a nasty slip and fall in the men's room on the wet floor. Pity it would have broken his neck."

"I see. So you sit back, Mr. Foreman, while we did the dirty work for you. That way you don't have to get your hands dirty."

"Not exactly. Just in case you all failed the government had a sniper waiting across the street from his nice house in the suburbs. Sort of a Plan B you might say."

"Only if it was needed, of course. So our number eight, Mr. Yarnell or whatever his name happens to be, was pretty much presumed guilty with all of us out to get him."

"Of that there was no reasonable doubt."

The End


A/N: This was a wonderful movie, and for the majority of the film there are no character names and only hints at some of their professions. I wanted something to turn the whole setup upside down and came up with two ideas.

The first was to have Henry Fonda's number eight convince everyone in the jury the boy was not guilty because of reasonable doubt, then brag that he had done it as a psychological challenge and now he was going to try to convince everyone of the boy's guilt. In a room full of disgust and outrage they would do away with him. Although interesting, the humor might have been too subtle.

But why not be even more ludicrous and just make everyone spies? The whole thing was a setup, and the trial and the debates fade to insignificance with the real reason everyone was there - then it just comes down to a matter of how it was done.