I try to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, but I feel the harshness of the cold handcuffs scratch my wrists. I lift my gaze and turn around. My eyes make contact with a member of the jury. She scowls then turns away, her disgust obvious. This stirs strong feelings of remorse and I self-consciously turn back around and stare at the floor. I hear someone whisper my name and I feel the gaze of the jury burning my back. I nervously await the judge to return with my verdict. Hopefully, the jury would understand why I had to do it, and why I was not guilty. After all, I did it for my sister.
Last month, she was diagnosed with leukemia. After a bone marrow biopsy, the doctors informed my mom and I that there was a 43% chance that my sister, Sarah would survive. We were all left traumatized since this was the same disease that killed our dad two years ago. My mom was left as a widow working as a cashier at the local grocery store. Our only living relative is my grandmother, but my mother never talks about her. Since we didn’t have health insurance, the $10,000 cost of chemotherapy was out of the question. It looked like caring for my sister’s life was my responsibility. After a high school field trip to Seahurst Bank, I knew what I had to do. Throughout the tour, I quietly took careful notes and asked multiple detailed questions. My teacher eyed me skeptically. Even though I maintained an A average, I wasn’t known for my excessive participation. After my teacher looked away, I continued listening to the guard.
“The bank is open every day, except Sunday, from 7 am to 5 pm,” the guard said, “I work here everyday along with three other guards all night. We work hard, so we let the security cameras take our place during the day.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Johnson, for your extremely informative tour,” my teacher said, “We all appreciate you taking time to talk to us!”
Feelings of guilt bubbled in my stomach already, and I heard a nagging voice in my head telling me that planning to rob a bank was wrong. I quickly shook off the feeling, reminding myself of my sick little sister.
The next day, I visited her in the hospital. I came in just as a nurse was finishing reading a book aloud to my sister. My sister's pale, fragile hands clapped as the nurse set down "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, her favorite book. Sarah's face brightened when she saw me and even the circles underneath her eyes seemed to disappear. I sat down on the edge of her bed and started talking to her about an explosion in chemistry and how I got a 100 on my math test. Suddenly, Sarah frowned and looked as if she were about to cry.
"Dakota," she said, "The doctors told Mom I was going to die if they didn't do anything. I know we don’t have enough money, and Mom is already working hard enough as it is!”
"Don't worry. We'll come up with the money. I promise!"
She relaxed at this and after updating her on what her friends were doing, I left.
For the next two weeks I practically lived in my bedroom. As soon as school was over, I sat down at the computer to research bank security systems and past robberies gone wrong.
I discovered that Seahurst had security cameras in the lobby, cash drawers in the teller booth and vaults in the back of the bank. I decided that stealing a key to a vault, then sneaking back there was too risky. So I decided that I would go into the lobby and ask the teller for the money in the cash drawers. I would be armed with a spray painted water gun because I really don't want to hurt anyone, but they had to take me seriously.

That Saturday I walked into the kitchen at 7:00 am with a fake grin plastered on my face.
"You seem...happier," my mom said.
"Yeah! Rick said I could stay at his house for the weekend and that his parents would drop us off at school on Monday!" I said with forced cheerfulness.
"Well, that's great. I gotta get to work! There are frozen waffles in the freezer. Bye!"
Even though my stomach was jumping up and down, I popped frozen waffles into our toaster and hurried into the garage. On the way, I grabbed my sister’s old water gun. After setting it down, I sprayed it with black paint. When I was done, it looked like I had a real gun. I returned to the kitchen and the burnt tire aroma was overwhelming. I realized I had left my waffles in the toaster for too long! I took them out and they were as black as coal and really hot. I set them on a paper towel to cool and then picked one up. I took a bite, then spat it out as soon as it touched my lips. I threw them both in the trash and returned to preparing for the robbery.
After a few hours, I was ready to rob a bank. At precisely 3:00, I walked into the bank, a baseball cap pulled low, shading my face.
I nervously shuffled to a teller booth and pulled the fake gun out of my pocket.
"Give me all the money in the cash drawers and you won't get hurt!" I said, trying my best to sound intimidating, "I..I don't want to hurt you!"
The teller's eyes widened and her face was pale as she opened the cash drawers and pulled out what looked like a lot of money. I almost smiled, but then remembered that I was robbing a bank. It was not satisfying shoving stolen money in a duffel bag. I felt extremely guilty, but I kept thinking of my sister as I ran through the doors of the bank into the parking lot. Since I was only 14, and couldn't drive, I had to walk four miles to my house. I didn't even make it 50 feet.
I heard the sirens of the police cars while standing in an almost empty parking lot. I frantically looked around for a place to hide, but to no avail.
"Put your hands up! You are surrounded!" A policeman barked. I reluctantly allowed them to take the duffel bag and handcuff me.


I sit in the courtroom awaiting the verdict. The judge walks in the room, his black robes billowing behind him. He slowly sits down and clears his throat.
"I have found the defendant, Dakota Fields, guilty of attempted robbery. He will be serving one year in juvenile jail for his crime. Bail will be set at $10,000," he said, "case dismissed!"
I felt my hands shaking in my handcuffs and was led by a guard in the direction of a police car. Suddenly, a woman put her hand on my shoulder.
"Is it true? About your sister being diagnosed with leukemia?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes ma'm. It is."
"Well, I'm bailing you out of jail."
"Are you serious?" I asked, my eyes wide. I was still processing the verdict, and now I am told that I'm out of jail!
"Yes. I also would like to pay for your sister's treatment."
So many things were racing through my head. I didn't really know what to say.
"Oh my gosh, thank you so much, ma'm!" I blubbered, "No offense, but who are you?"
"I'm your grandmother."