The centurion’s face pales as the blood drains from it. A Roman citizen? The prisoner never said he was a Roman citizen. “Do nothing until I return with further orders,” he commands his soldiers. The soldiers hold Paul where he is as the centurion hurries off to find the commander of the garrison. “Commander!” he cries out, “the prisoner is a Roman citizen! Be careful, or you could lose your position – or even your life!” The commander follows the centurion back to where the soldiers are holding Paul. “Prisoner, is this true? Are you, in fact, a Roman citizen?” Paul responds with a simple, “Yes.” The commander’s face pales as well, as the ramifications of his actions pass through his mind. “I had to pay a hefty price to become a Roman citizen,” he remarks, almost to himself. Paul hears, though the commander’s words are quiet. “But I was born a citizen,” he replies. All the soldiers are now afraid of this prisoner. If Paul petitions the prefect, or, God forbid, Caesar himself, they could all lose everything. They have detained, bound, and harassed a Roman citizen without just cause, without a trial, without a conviction.