They are indeed brother and sister, of Massapequa, Long Island, New York, the children and grandchildren of Conservative rabbis. Both spoke Hebrew before they could speak English. Ben-David Hebraized his name when he made aliyah to Israel in 2018. He is currently, as I said, a paratroop battalion commander in the reserve forces of the Jewish state. His younger sister, before her expulsion, was also an IDF reservist—a second lieutenant in Intelligence—as are hundreds, even thousands, of other Jewish-American citizens. She fought in the sixth and seventh Hamas Wars, in the tunnels.

For the first twenty minutes of the interrogation Manning presses Rachel on the origin of her list. Ben-David defends his sister with barely contained fury.

BEN-DAVID

The list is Rachel’s Ph.D. thesis. You have proof of this already, Detective. I have given it to you. What more do you need?

MANNING

Nine men have been murdered, Dr. Ben-David. Every name is on Ms. Davidson’s list. Explain that to me.

Manning intensifies his pressure on Rachel. Ellie Landau objects over and over to Manning’s hostile, berating tone. She blocks Manning again and again from compelling Rachel to answer.

The physical layout of DivSix is different from that of a precinct house.

The office is built around “the Floor,” a central arena containing the workstations of the Second and Third Grade detectives. Flanking this on one side is the Bunker, the big meeting room. On the other are conference areas and interrogation rooms. It is in the third and largest of these that Rachel is being interviewed.

The process simply of getting her here has consumed, as I said, the better part of eight hours today, because of Superstorm Dani. Trains are out, streets are flooded, bridges and tunnels closed. It has been impossible for the judicial officers, at least those who normally service DivSix and who all live in the New Jersey or Connecticut suburbs, to make their way into town.

Bottom line: Manning and I have had to transport Ms. Davidson, and her brother and lawyer, in person and by vehicle to the New York State Supreme Court Building at 60 Centre Street on Foley Square. It takes us two hours to get there and, when we arrive, Centre Street is inundated. The East River seawall has been breached at South Ferry and at Old Slip. Lower Manhattan is under a foot of water.

So we walk.

Wade.

Our group—Manning, Rachel, Ben-David, Ellie Landau, and me—has been together now for six unbroken hours since the impound lot. Individuals are starting to get to know one another.

“Tell me the truth,” Manning says to Ellie Landau as we approach Centre Street in salt water above our ankles. Manning is carrying the attorney’s Manolos and sheltering her beneath his umbrella. “Why are you defending this woman?”

ELLIE LANDAU

Maybe I believe in her.

MANNING

Come on.

ELLIE LANDAU