When one pen ran out of ink, he produced another from his shirt pocket. He always had two. A habit from his old days in Guantanamo. “So where have you’ve been for more than three and a half years?” Andersen asked. Time was getting short, and while he found his witness interesting, he still had no answers. As if reading his mind, Coleridge—or rather David—said, “I can answer that, but I will have to try to sum it up. Three and a half years is too long to detail.” Thank God, Andersen thought. Leaning forward, David began the report, “It was hard for all of us from the start—” Andersen interrupted, “Who is ‘all of us?’” David summarized how the four of them, Samantha, Becky, Emma, and himself, had been hiding out for nearly four months at an extended-stay motel after his wife’s murder. “With the exception of Emma, everyone’s sleeping was both poor in quality and short in duration; everyone was eating poorly, if at all, and all of us felt like they were simply waiting to die from an unknown government branch of security.
