It’s hopeless.

You know it.

Everyone knows it.

Then your son comes forward, his knuckles tensed around a scrap of paper. He hands it to the judges, and they frown. Duty demands that they read it aloud.

Forty of your neighbors have signed a petition on your behalf. They attest that they have known you for many years, that you are a good church member and live according to the faith, that you brought up a great family of righteous children, that there are no grounds to the charges you face.

Several members of the jury stare at the afflicted girls. A few others look at you with new warmth, and you dare to hope.

Hope turns to joy as the jury gives its verdict:

“Not Guilty.”

But you’ve barely begun to taste the relief when the afflicted girls howl with otherworldly anguish. Alarmed, the judges order the jury to reconsider.

This time the verdict matches all the others.