Jyn had hated the Rebellion almost as much as she hated the Empire. A big "almost," but almost nonetheless. It didn't matter whose banner was flying overhead, it didn't matter what cause people claimed to defend if the end result was death no matter what. She thinks of Hadder, of Akshaya - of their exploding freighter, the energy of which pushed her little planet hopper into hyperdrive. How she didn't know it'd been their ship, whether it'd been taken down by a TIE or by a U-Wing. How, ultimately, it didn't matter. The end result was the same: they were nothing more than stardust, than fragments and molecules of the whole, wonderful, loving people they'd once been.

But the biggest distinction between the Rebellion and the Empire, for Jyn, was their greater goal. One sought to bring about "peace" through forced obedience, fear, and control. The other sought freedom for the galaxy. That's what contributed to the rather large chasm of "almost."

"No worse than the Empire," she retorts. What gall this man had, to lift his nose up at the Rebellion for doing something the Empire did, and worse. "It isn't so much about the Rebellion as a whole as it is the people. The people of the Rebellion, the pilots, the fighters. The people of Jedha who'd been doing nothing but living their lives before the Empire destroyed them all." The little girl screaming in the market floats through her mind's eye again. "It isn't any more personal than it would be for anyone else with a modicum of a conscience." Which you apparently don't seem to have.