The sun had set already. The people of the Town moved along the paths and streets of a lamp-lit Salem after the town's afternoon meeting. One figure, his hand moving to turn the doorknob to his house, had suddenly found himself in a blindfold and handcuffs. With no chance of resistance, he was hauled away under the cover of darkness. He would not be in his bed that night, nor out doing his duty. Instead, he would find himself tossed into a pitiful jail cell. Stone walls, a small cot, and a bucket were the only material inside. "It wasn't you." (credit)