It's just another sign, one that would be unremarkable at an anti-war protest.

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Pouya Dianat/AJC (ENLARGE)

Jim and Suzanne Barksdale changed their sign to include a photo of a soldier killed and it turned the tide of emotion.

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Handcrafted and crudely assembled, the two facing Masonite boards bolted on wooden posts bemoan the human cost of the Iraq war.

Only, this sign sits at a luxe Atlanta address on West Paces Ferry Road, a few skips from the governor's residence.

The sign rudely interrupts the flow of manicured lawns and winding driveways that lead to plush homes. Passers-by do a double take, craning their heads to figure out what the sign says.

What they don't know is that its unexpected placement mirrors the unexpected journey of the homeowners who erected it.

Jim and Suzanne Barksdale don't have a son or daughter in uniform and will never know the personal pride or the acute loss that war can bring.

But in publicly opposing the war, they bucked the norm in their circles and discovered there is a price to pay.

Four years ago, the Barksdales moved into their stately home, well-appointed with art and antiques, just as their opinions about the war were reshaping their emotions about the president they'd helped elect.

It was uncharted territory for the couple.

Jim 54, and Suzanne, 53, were raised in comfortable Atlanta homes and later earned degrees at the College of William & Mary in Virginia.

At 18, Jim drew a high draft lottery number. He knew he'd never go to Vietnam. The tide of unrest sweeping the nation in the 1960s blew past the Barksdales.

Jim built a successful business career and opened his own investment firm. Equity Investment Corp. manages more than $450 million in assets.

He considered himself a conservative and voted for Republican candidates, including President Bush in 2000. But he soured when the president ordered the bombing of Baghdad. Unswayed by the argument that Iraq posed a national security threat, he believed that this war was governed by emotions, not logic.

He read media reports about an FBI memorandum revealing infiltration of anti-war groups and bristled at the thought of fellow Americans being arrested for peaceful protests.

"We had always voted. We had always been thinkers," Suzanne said. "But there was never this feeling that things were completely off track."

Jim's first public outcry was placing a John Kerry campaign sign on the lawn. He stuck an "Impeach Bush" sticker on his car but felt compelled to tear it off when conservative clients paid a visit at work.

Such is the discomfort of dissent after one is already settled, after one's reputation is known. But Jim could not stay quiet.

"I don't know how we can bring an end to the fraud and deception behind the Iraq war. For me, it is that chastisement from the book of James — he who knows what is good, but does not do it, has sinned," wrote Jim, a churchgoing Baptist, in an e-mail to friends.

He felt he was surrounded by silence on the war. "Here in Buckhead, it's the elephant in the room," he said.

He decided to "pinprick the silence" by taking advantage of his tony address on a high-traffic road traveled by commuters as well as the curious.

So he posted his message last summer — in the form of a U.S. flag flying at half-staff and a large homemade sign.

One side screamed the numbers of U.S. casualties since various milestones of the war: the day that America invaded Iraq, when President Bush declared "Mission Accomplished," and since the start of the "surge." On the other side, Jim pasted a montage of photographs showing American soldiers who had lost their lives and the grieving families left behind.

The Barksdales knew that many of their friends and neighbors would object. They understood that speaking out could be seen as unpatriotic — even treasonous — in a time of war. But they were not prepared for the range of emotions their sign elicited.

Several neighbors told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution they supported the Iraq war and were put off both by the message and its lack of aesthetics on a "nice street." But they respected the Barksdales' right to free expression and would never think to undermine it. Mostly, they were curious about why the Barksdales put up the sign.

Immediately after it went up, a woman drove up and asked Jim: "Do you have a permit for that?"

A few days later, the city of Atlanta's Bureau of Code Compliance sent the couple a citation. After effort on Jim's part, the city dropped case No. 07-0022301. The sign did not require a permit because the city's definition of campaign signs includes those that express a position on a public issue.

Legal it was but protected it wasn't. Every week, the sign was vandalized. Someone covered it up with their own message: "We [heart] Bush" stuck on with bathroom caulk. Others ripped off the photos and yelled at the Barksdales when they were outside. One night their yard was trenched. Suzanne worried about the family's security.

Then last August, the sign was stolen.

Jim was determined not to be defeated in his own yard. He built another sign. This time, he used an enlarged photo of Sgt. Ryan Campbell blowing out the candles of his 18th birthday cake. Above it, Jim wrote the words: "The cost of acquiescence. Ryan — # 832."

Ryan, of Kirksville, Mo., was the 832nd U.S. casualty in Iraq. He died April 29, 2004, in a car bombing.

Jim knew Ryan's sister Brooke from her days as a graduate student at Emory University. She had actively worked to defeat Bush in 2004 after her brother's last e-mail from Iraq, which she published in an AJC article: "Just do me a big favor. Don't vote for Bush."

The Barksdales asked Brooke for permission to use Ryan's picture. Last fall, Jim put the sign back up. This time, the reaction was different. The Barksdales got notes of sympathy in their mailbox. "Today I cried when I drove past and saw the picture of Ryan," said one. Another thanked the Barksdales for "giving those traveling down West Paces a little reality check." Someone left lilies by the sign. And a poinsettia at Christmas. One woman baked the couple a cake.

The Barksdales realized that replacing the photo montage with Ryan's smile tugged at people's hearts. No matter their views on Iraq, Ryan put a face on the statistics.

"Some people think he's our son," Suzanne said. "That makes me feel bad. I don't want to mislead people. But I think it's made people less angry. They excuse us for being in their face."

A single sign sprouted a range of sentiment.

In the end, it was a small act by the Barksdales. But a bold one for two Atlantans who had never protested anything in their lives.

They recognize they may never change anyone's mind. They hope, at least, to make people ponder the cost of war as they sail past houses that epitomize the American dream.

Wednesday, Jim watched a man take two smaller signs in his yard that say: "Stop the Iraq war funding" and then get stuck in the morning rush-hour jam on West Paces Ferry.

Jim said he walked down to talk to the stranger. "Why did you steal the signs?" he asked.

The man told him he was a soldier who had done three tours of Iraq and said he objected to the Barksdales' anti-war message. America is on track in Iraq, he said.

"Is this the kind of America you are fighting for, where people can't freely express their opinions?" Jim asked.

The soldier contemplated the question and handed back the signs.