This will be the last letter I write. The very same night I witnessed the events in the house that Jesus and his disciples ate at he was arrested by the Roman authorities. I was later told he was accused of treason against the Roman Empire and of blasphemy before the Sanhedrin. He was sentenced to crucifixion. I was devastated. I went up to the place where they hung him up. He was bloodied, bruised and distorted from abuse I could barely stand to look. He hung there among common criminals, this man I was revered as a true man and prophet of God.  I saw him hang there for 7 hours, finding it so hard to remain and yet impossible for me to leave. He would call out from time to time to God and those around Him. At about the 9^th hour he called out to heaven “It is finished!” His head then hung down and he was dead. A roman soldier stabbed him with his spear on his side to ensure his death. A great earthquake began to shake the earth and everyone ran for shelter. That’s it. That’s all I have. I thought this man would deliver us and now he is gone forever. I feel disappointed, angry and even just plain stupid. I threw my life away for this man, a simple man. A no one. An imposter.