Nobody in the room believes the last man is from the Department of the Army. Wenner is guessing that he’s CIA, but keeps his guess to himself. He’s sitting to the right and rear of Colonel Denton.

General Sawyer looks to Colonel Denton and then her watch. “Well, where is she?”

“She should be here any minute.”

The general says, “Give her five more minutes, then send out some MPs to drag her sorry ass in here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Denton says, and he turns and glares at Wenner, like it’s his fault that Captain Cornwall hasn’t shown up.

Wenner looks away and then there’s a rap at the door; it opens up, and Captain Cornwall comes in, cover in hand, saying, “My apologies, Colonel Denton, and everyone else. I was…unavoidably delayed.”

“Sit down, Captain Cornwall,” Denton snaps out, and Cornwall sits at the end of the polished conference room table, moving slowly, her feet bandaged, Wenner knows. She looks impressive in her uniform with the badges and ribbons, and Wenner feels sorry for her. Based on the bloody and wild trip she had through the American South, the captain will eventually exchange that uniform for the dull khakis of a prison uniform at Leavenworth.

The room has one door, no windows, and just the table and chairs. There are no photos, paintings, or anything else to cheer up this cheerless room, and Wenner thinks that’s part of the plan, for nothing good is going to happen here.

General Sawyer says, “All right, we’ll begin this…session. Now that Captain Cornwall has joined us, I’ll remind everyone again in this room that there’s to be no recording, note taking, or any other official record of what transpires here. Am I clear?”

The only person who says anything is Cornwall, who nods and says, “I understand, ma’am.”

Sawyer says, “Again, I want to remind you, Captain Cornwall, that you are appearing here by yourself, without counsel, and that you agree to this…circumstance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sawyer clasps her hands and says to her fellow JAG officer, “Colonel Patrick, let’s begin with the narrative and list of particulars.”

Colonel Patrick starts reading from several sheets of paper, and the room is so silent that Wenner can hear the traffic outside and the overhead thrum of a helicopter. At each pause in the narration, General Sawyer looks to the captain and says, “Is that true, Captain?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The list of particulars goes on and on—assaulting a Tennessee state trooper, stealing license plates, crossing state lines for the purpose of committing offenses under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and then, the first big one.

“In the town of Three Rivers, Texas, that you shot and killed Ramon Hernandez, a citizen of Mexico.”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

“In the town of Three Rivers, Texas, that you shot and killed Pepe Torres, a citizen of Mexico.”