Donna woke up, and instantly wished that she hadn't. Last night, the verdicts in what was being called the Dillon Breakrock Trial, after the municipality the trial had taken place in and the name of the former secret prison, had been handed down - Tia had shown her the newspaper. After what felt like an eternity, the trial of the twenty-six former prison personnel was over. They had been tried according to the conventional Criminal Code - murder, accessory to murder, rape, torture, unlawful detention, and conspiracy to commit all of those. The end result was eight life sentences, eleven terms of years from one and a half to forty, one to time served, and two acquittals.
Her fellow Supermaxers, especially the former Peacekeepers who had been posted to prisons (conventional or secret), had spent the entire time complaining about how the past was being dredged up. Donna had tried to not say anything, torn as she was between not alienating the others and not alienating Dr. Chu. Theodosius had taken the same tack, until photographic evidence had proven that he had visited the secret prison - and that he had committed perjury in Lodgepole by denying it. Since then, he had said nothing about the trial. Hopefully he'd speak today, now that it was over.
The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, but the floodlights provided plenty of illumination as Donna lethargically went about her morning routine. This was so irritating. Why, after so many years, did they bother with those former guards? The general apathy was starting to fade. Polls had it that nearly eighty percent of the country were aware of the trial. As if that wasn't enough, the Capitol chief of police turned out to have a past himself, causing a major scandal his career barely survived. It felt like the country was falling apart piece by piece as she was stuck in the Supermax, a relic of a time when it had seemed that a new way of doing things could be brought to life.
Suddenly, it was bright in the cell. The lightbulb turned on. Donna wished it a good morning and continued exercising. She didn't want to leave the cell and be confronted by Hope's fury over the addition of crimes against humanity to the Criminal Code, which meant that in the future, people could be tried for them without having to resort to charging them with simple murder. All those people who had flown under the radar before had to fear now - Donna couldn't help but feel a stab of satisfaction at the thought of certain former coworkers being hauled before a court.
As Donna finished her workout and washed in the sink, she wondered if the former Peacekeepers would calm down now that the trial was over. It shouldn't have happened at all - if not for the uncommon zeal of the municipality attorney, who had survived a secret prison herself, the case would have fizzled out long before getting to trial.
The prison's last commander, Aoide Wegener, took just a few hours to track down, as she had been living under her real name in a small town not too far from the Capitol proper. Wegener had run away from home at fifteen to join the Peacekeepers, which made Donna suspect something had been amiss in her home. Arriving at a Peacekeeper academy, she was given only brief training before being sent to put down a quarry workers' strike, and spent two years combing through the woods hunting rebellious workers.
Donna couldn't help but feel sorry for Wegener. At seventeen, she had been the youngest NCO in the armed forces and decorated for bravery. She went back to school, managed to somehow complete her secondary schooling in a year, and killed a local in a bar for allegedly insulting Snow. The crime was covered up and she was sent to Four, and Breakrock, where she remained until the Rebellion.
Four's government had point-blank refused to host the trial, and in any case, all of the defendants lived in the Capitol. There was an attempt to indict a former prisoner functionary who had used his position to rape and abuse other prisoners, but that had set off a quarrel among the communities of survivors over whether it was appropriate to have the perpetrators share a dock with the a victim, even if the victim himself was a perpetrator. In the end, he got a seperate trial that never went anywhere.
Donna had seen photographs from the trial. The defendants were all respectable-looking middle-aged people, suited and booted and looking like they couldn't hurt a fly. But a great many of the prosecution witnesses were marginals, which made sense, given that they had been tossed into secret prisons for one too many petty crimes or simply for being homeless. One had been born and raised in the prison and had been the overseer of the children's block - the thought of a twelve-year-old shouting at a child as old as Sooyen to take off their cap and stand to attention made Donna feel sick.
The former overseer had been brought to the courtroom from the prison where she was doing time for robbing someone at knifepoint. After spending fourteen years in a secret prison, she had been sent to an overcrowded orphanage, which she left almost immediately, and had been homeless since then. During her testimony, some newspapers had been full of outraged articles about how the defendants had spent the past twenty years in comfort even as the person they had abused for her entire childhood until she could not tell right from wrong had been in and out of prison. There was now an initiative to provide those prison children with psychiatric care - those that were still alive, that is.
Donna sank down onto her cot, wishing the trial hadn't happened. She didn't want to be reminded of those horrors. Didn't want to contemplate the amount of lives ruined by the regime she had served.
Theodosius looked terrible. He blinked owlishly in the bright sunlight and rubbed at his eyes, which were ringed with purple bruises. The entire time she had spent jogging, he had spent pruning a tree by himself, as Vartha was busy spreading fresh soil with the soon-to-be-released Williamson, Andrews, and Torres. A couple of former Peacekeepers were standing in a clump not too far away and talking to some guards - as Donna had predicted, they were furious. The guards had more sympathy for the defendants, especially the junior ones, than Donna had expected - but then again, it made sense that prison guards would feel solidarity with other prison guards.
"Didn't sleep?" Donna asked Theodosius as she walked up to him.
He nodded glumly. Donna realized that his hands were shaking. "I came to a realization last night," he said. "Well, I've been thinking ever since that photograph was shown." He licked his lips and gripped the branch he was holding. Donna put her hands in her pockets, shivering slightly. She didn't envy her friend and hoped nobody would ever put her in that position - good thing that photograph Dr. Chu had shown her years ago seemed to have disappeared! "It's just that - I was there. It's stupid for me to talk about how I was shown only the good bits, because I saw the children, and-" He fell silent. Donna realized that what he was admitting would have gotten him hanged during the trial. He took a deep breath, shaking visibly. Donna felt cold. "In any case, I could see how sick and weak the prisoners were. I remember joking with Wegener about how she'd need to get replacements soon." He leaned against the tree and slowly slid down to sit on the muddy ground as Donna looked on, incredulous.
"But why admit it when you don't have to?" She crouched down next to him, picking up a small twig and fiddling with it. "That photo just shows you inside the prison gates, not at an execution or something."
Theodosius shrugged. "Why hide it when it'll just be dug up eventually? Might as well seize the initiative." He laughed hysterically. "In any case, what's the point of hiding it? I was fully aware of the horrors going on behind the barbed wire, and I brushed it aside! It's on me, you know!" His voice rose until he was almost shouting. "I knew about everything, and I did nothing! I knew how they were being treated, I knew what things were like for them, I knew the death statistics!" He had denied all of that during the trial. "And I did nothing!" Donna felt shame tear at her insides. This all applied to her, and many times over. "They were right, you know, to charge me on Count One."
"And you couldn't say so before?" Donna demanded, feeling angry all of a sudden.
"What, and stick my head in the noose?" He laughed mirthlessly. "In any case, it's pointless. Admitting guilt is just a plea for justification. But I'm tired of lying when there isn't even a point to it." He lay down in the mud, head in a small puddle.
Donna threw the twig on the ground. "So what does that say about me?" she asked. "I heard the rumours same as anyone else." As teenagers, they had told callous jokes when someone important was sentenced to hard labour or simply disappeared, knowing exactly how poorly they would be treated.
"I'm not telling you what to think. It's just that, in my position, everything that happened in the Districts was on me. You were an engineer, though, you never even got close to a prison," he said consolingly.
Oddly enough, his exculpation of her just made Donna madder. As if on location had been any better than a prison! "But why admit it?" she asked, burying her face in her hands.
Theodosius said nothing. Donna sat on her haunches under the tree, feeling like everything was collapsing around her. It was cold outside, and a light breeze chilled her face unpleasantly. Nearby, Verdant sat on a bench with Best, Koy and Xu were working on a crossword with the help of three guards, and Li was doing pullups. The sun was shining, and the ground was damp. Everything was the same and the world would go on spinning, but Donna knew that her next session with Dr. Chu would be no fun at all if she got to Theodosius first.
"Are you saying you've been lying this entire time?" Donna asked to provoke him.
Glaring, Theodosius sat up. The side of his face was covered with mud and dirty water, as was his clothing. "What right do you have to judge me?" he snapped. Before Donna could fire back, he continued. "Don't you understand what I am saying?" he asked in a desperate voice, eyes wide, fingers scrabbling at the muddy ground. "All those things - the mass shootings, the Hunger Games, the starvation - that's on me!"
"But how can you say that? You had no hand in those things!" Donna couldn't let herself think that way. It was too painful. It was impossible. She sat down on the damp grass, hands hanging limply by her sides like useless ropes.
"I was a minister!" he whispered loudly. "Don't you understand? I made policy! And what policy did I make? Murder!" He leapt to his feet, dirty hands clutching dirty hair, cap lying on the ground. "I had responsibility over people. It was all in my jurisdiction." He paced back and forth, becoming more and more agitated as Donna calmed down slightly. He wasn't calling her out. He was just being honest about his role as Minister of Resources. "I-" he fell silent and sat down opposite her, their knees nearly touching.
"What is it?" Donna asked.
Wiping at his eyes, he shrugged. "How can I sit here and casually admit to that stuff? How can I admit to mass murder and go on living? I looked into their hollow eyes and looked away!"
"You're not the first to do so," Donna said, remembering the trial. An endless parade of witnesses had described their participation in crimes Theodosius was now taking responsibility for.
"That's not what I mean," Theodosius said, shaking his head. "They just said what they did. I'm saying that what I did was wrong."
Donna had no idea how to answer. A part of her wanted to say that she felt the same way, but she had spent too much time pushing one particular line to give up now. "Maybe you should talk to Dr. Chu about this," she said. "I have no idea what to say."
Theodosius nodded. "You know," he said, "I do wonder what she'll say. She spent so long trying to get me to fess up."
"I just hope it doesn't mean she decides I'll be next to admit guilt for mass shootings in Eleven," Donna muttered.
"You had nothing to do with mass shootings in Eleven."
"Yes, just like you had nothing to do with what went on in prisons." His general admission of guilt made her feel like she shouldered an equal portion of the blame, and she didn't want to face that.
"You weren't a minister, though," Theodosius pointed out. He stretched out his legs and leaned against the tree. "You were a project manager."
Donna had told herself that many times, but now it seemed to finally stick. She thought about the workers she had been responsible for and immediately batted the thought aside. "But you can't just say you're guilty of things you had nothing to do with," she said, wondering why they were coming up with excuses for each other. "There's no way you were aware of every single atrocity."
Theodosius picked up a twig and poked the ground with it. "There's a difference between guilt and responsibility," he said eventually, sounding tired. He picked up his cap from the ground and jammed it on his head. "As a minister, I was responsible for all policies of my government. But the quotas I signed off on? The deaths they caused?" He frowned slightly. "That is my guilt." His voice had none of its previous emotion.
They sat in silence for a while, lost in their thoughts. Donna watched Hope approach them. "Mr. Coll, you're covered with mud," she said, still full of righteous indignation over the incarceration of her former colleagues.
"I noticed." Theodosius rubbed at his cheek.
"Is everything alright?"
Theodosius snorted. "For months now, anyone who cares to know knows I committed perjury, and that's the least of my problems right now." He looked up at her and dropped his hand to his lap. "Frankly, I don't understand the point of anything right now. I don't understand why I'm alive."
"So now you blame yourself for everything that ever happened while you were Minister?" Hope asked in an exasperated tone.
"No." Theodosius looked down at himself, eyes widening in surprise. "I need to change," he said, climbing to his feet and walking off. "And I won't be back today!"
Hope turned to Donna, who was still sitting under the tree. "Has he cracked?" she asked worriedly. "I told you two over and over, there's no need to concern yourself with things you had no hand in. Did you personally whip anyone to death?"
Donna shook her head.
"Did you ever step foot inside a prison?"
Donna shook her head again.
"Then you shouldn't kick yourself about it. Do you blame yourself for all the bad things going on right now?"
"I don't blame myself for all the bad things," Donna argued, standing up slowly. "It's he who thinks that he's responsible for everything." She didn't want to talk about this to the others, least of all Hope. "Has Smith fessed up yet?" she asked. For the past few weeks, Hope and Smith had been feuding over an undershirt Smith had allegedly stolen from Hope.
Hope sighed. "She's still being as stubborn as ever. But she has one extra undershirt! It couldn't have been anyone else."
"Maybe it's just a coincidence-"
"Ha!" Hope then launched into a lengthy rant about how Smith had never respected her and how this was clearly the first step of a grand conspiracy on her part to steal all her underwear, as they were about the same size.
It was strange that while Theodosius was feeling like he had been hit on the head with a two-by-four, the rest of them were content to continue squabbling over undershirts and argue about the news. "Alright," Donna said diplomatically. "I was wondering, though, what do you really think of the sentences?"
Hope shrugged. "I think they have better things to do than chase down law-abiding individuals and put them in prison, but if they want to waste resources, it doesn't affect me. They certainly can't make my life worse, can they?" She laughed, spreading out her palms.
There was the matter of early release or lack thereof, but Donna didn't want to remind Hope of it. "But Coll lied under oath," she said. "Shouldn't you be judging him for that?" She had been distant but polite since that testimony.
"That's not what I'm judging you for," Hope replied. "What always sickened me is how you made yourselves out into bastions of honestly even as you lied as much as anyone else." She shifted from foot to foot. "Of course, he then had to go and steal everyone's thunder by admitting he lied, which I suppose I should have expected." Donna looked down, uncomfortable how easily Hope picked apart the situation. "What's up with him now? He looked pretty agitated there."
"Admitted general responsibility."
"Didn't he already do that?"
Donna shook her head. "This time, he actually said that he's guilty of the deaths caused by the quotas he implemented."
"So he said that he should have been executed?"
Given what had happened to many of the other former ministers, the implication was there. "Not directly, but I suppose there's no other conclusion you can draw."
Hope bent down and picked up the saw. "I wonder what the former prosecutors think of this revelation."
Back when that photograph had first appeared, thinking about that had terrified Donna until she got confirmation from a very unimpressed Livia that nobody was going to put her on trial all over again once she got out. "Mostly annoyed that the photograph hadn't surfaced earlier." Hope looked at her with wide eyes before remembering that Donna had access to outside information in a much greater scope than she. "Another made a sarcastic post on the Web where they pretended to be upset at how long it took for them to find out about such 'great achievements in human history'." She made air-quotes with her fingers. "The general public doesn't care about us, though."
"Of course not," Hope said with a trace of satisfaction. She looked around the yard and stared at the nearest guard tower, where a sentry was lounging against the railing with their gun also propped against it. Donna wondered if they knew who they were guarding. "What I don't understand is why you put on this entire charade. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm very glad that certain documents were not brought to light during the trial."
That was news to Donna. "Aren't you worried about how it will affect your chances of early release?"
"Not at all." She ran her fingertip down the serrated edge of the saw. "It's a purely political matter. The Districts won't be swayed one way or the other because of some musty document."
As the years went by, it became harder and harder to hope that she would be released early. While most of the directors favoured releasing the lifers at some point, with some supporting the release of some inmates but not others, it was hard to believe that she, Theodosius, and Vartha would walk out before twenty-five or twenty years to the day after their sentences were pronounced. Attempts to have their sentences count from the day of arrest had failed for all the others, and there was no way they would backtrack on that.
"I guess," Donna said weakly. She put her hands in her pockets, feeling cold. "Still, though, aren't you worried about what everyone will think? People are starting to discuss the past now." She imagined Aulus discussing it with his friends and wanted to sink through the ground.
Hope chuckled. "What, you afraid they'll stab you in the streets? It doesn't matter what they think. They could call me 'Destroyer of Hope' as much as they wanted, but they still didn't get my blood." She reached out and touched a place on the tree where a branch had been. The stump was smeared with a green liquid to prevent rot, and it came away on Hope's fingers. "They hate me. I get that. In their position, I'd have hated me, too. But so what?"
Donna couldn't think along those lines. She didn't want to be hated. She couldn't stand the thought of people glaring at her wherever she went. But if a witness was found for her as well, she wouldn't be able to find a sympathetic glance even in her family. "Would you like to help me prune this tree?" Donna asked, wanting to talk about absolutely anything else. "Since he's not here, for now."
"Of course." Hope looked around the tree and raised the saw to the branch Donna had been intending to cut off next.
The letter from her family that week was unexpectedly painful reading. One of the acquitted defendants had made a weak apology, and her parents had decided to write about how unimpressed they were with him.
'Sorry' is an empty, shameful word that people use to try to escape the consequences of their actions. He should have given a proper explanation of his actions instead. Perhaps then he could have gotten some semblance of moral respectability.
It was as if they had read her mind. An explanation would be a long time in coming, as Donna didn't want to admit the truth on paper. She had lied to escape the noose - it was as easy as that, but the last thing she needed was to think about how she could have easily died. As if on cue, thinking about that made her heart beat faster and her throat feel tight.
Tearing at her collar, Donna put aside the official letter. Tia had just gone through collecting glasses and handing out medication, and had managed to pass on the clandestine letters as well. Donna held up the note from Livia, whispering the words to herself to make understanding them easier. Without her glasses, reading was agony.
Lisiewska is starting to ask around and look for people who knew you. I think he is becoming more and more focused on you specifically. Should we try to hold him off? The documents are all secure, in case that's what worries you.
Livia was wrong there. As long as documents were lying around, there was always a chance of them being found. The last thing she needed was for it to happen again when she was released. Contact him and give him access to my papers, Donna wrote on the other side of the paper with clumsy letters. She needed to seize the initiative. Use your judgement as to what to reveal. But make it conditional on him not revealing anything too damaging until I die. Lisiewska was still in his twenties, so that wouldn't be too limiting.
The next afternoon, just after the doors were locked, Tia came in to take a look at her stiff neck. "Are the stretches helping?" she asked, sitting down on the cot next to her and taking out a glasses case.
"Sort of," Donna said, taking the glasses and putting them on. She took the paper with her reply and handed it to Tia, who put it in her bag. "I need to stretch in the morning for it to have a full effect." She rotated her head left and right, showing the asymmetry. "And it doesn't fully work."
Tia nodded. "Is that as far as you can go?"
Donna took out the reply to Dem from her sock and gave it to her as well. "Yes." She tried to incline her head until it rested on her shoulder. "It's just stiff, though. I need to work out the stiffness every single morning, or I won't be able to rotate my neck properly," she said in a slightly whining tone. Her body was slowly becoming more and more dysfunctional, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The orderly gave her a quick massage, which did make her feel a bit better. She rotated her head in all sorts of ways, trying to see if it had helped. Some of the stiffness was definitely gone, and Donna delighted in tilting her head further and further, taking her muscles to the limit. "Thank you."
"It's nothing." The orderly reached into her bag and took out another bag, this one insulated. For the first time since the trial had been announced, Donna felt some happiness. Food. "This is from your husband," Tia said quietly. "It's a bit early, but he decided you needed some cheering up."
Dem was too good for her. Instead of focusing on his own problems, he had worried about how she was feeling. "Early for what?" she asked.
"Your anniversary."
Donna tried and failed to recall when her anniversary was. It had to be in late spring, as they had married after she had finished her Master's. "That's nice of him." She took the bag and opened it. Inside was a spoon identical to those she ate with and three containers. Donna took out the first container, wondering how many years they had been married for.
They had gotten married after her Master's, which meant...61 in the old style, if she recalled correctly. She had been sentenced in 77, which had made 76 the fifteenth anniversary, which meant that this would be...thirty-five. Thirty-five years of marriage. And a majority of them, Donna had spent behind bars.
The first container turned out to be separated into eleven tiny compartments. Donna wondered how to interpret the microscopic portions. Three small dumplings, what looked like two or three thick noodles in a thin sauce, a piece of meat, a tiny serving of curry - how much effort must it have taken Dem to make all of this? Curry couldn't be made in such a small portion, and neither could sauces. Everyone's fridges must have been well-stocked with leftovers thanks to his endeavours.
An idea struck Donna as she ate a dumpling which turned out to contain potatoes and mushrooms. "There's thirty-five things in total, aren't there?" she asked.
Tia nodded. "You should appreciate him more," she said in a slightly distant tone.
"I appreciate him very much." She awkwardly scooped up noodles with her spoon. They had an odd tangy taste, almost sour.
Despite having eaten dinner just before this, Donna polished off the first container without even noticing how the little compartments were emptied in one bite. All in all, it was about the size of a normal meal, though much more delicious and varied. As she began to eat the contents of the second container, though, she began to feel off.
"I can bring it back tomorrow," Tia offered.
Donna shook her head. The food was so good, she couldn't put it down. She finished off the container and took out the third one. Logically, she knew that she couldn't cram down so many calories in one go, but as soon as she ate the first small cupcake, she knew that no force in the world would convince her to return the container with the desserts still uneaten.
They were too good, too sugary, too sweet. The previous bite-sized dishes had been bursting with savoury flavour, but this was sweetness so profound, it was almost painful. One by one, Donna shoved the small treats into her mouth, ignoring her rising discomfort as Tia looked on in silence.
"Female Nine, that's not healthy," she said. "I should have brought the containers one by one," she added in a self-reproaching tone.
"No, no, it's alright," Donna said, taking a deep breath. "I feel alright now. Anything else?"
Tia looked at her suspiciously but decided there was no harm in letting it go. "Chief of police-"
"Again?" Donna groaned, mostly from pain.
"Stuck up for the junior guards and said he hadn't done anything different than them back when he was a prison guard himself. The Web exploded. A group calling themselves "The Police Children" made an entire satirical song about him."
"Odd name for a band."
"They're actually the children of police officers, most of whom were Peacekeepers back in the day." Donna wondered what their relationships with their parents were like. "You want to hear the song?"
"Do you have the time?"
Tia nodded. "I've got an entire session scheduled with you. Hold on, let me find it." She took out her phone and a set of earbuds and poked the screen a few times. "Here you go."
Donna took the phone. Tia tapped the screen, and music began to play straight into Donna's head. On the screen, a young woman in a police jacket and hat began to speak to a melody.
This is the story
Of a sad and lonely uncle
Why is he so sad?
Because his old friend's now a lifer.
A photograph of the chief of police and Wegener in Peacekeeper uniform in a prison appeared on the screen, with names helpfully labelled. The melody picked up and became quick and bouncy.
Who appears in late-night shows to talk of safer streets?
Who gets rich by using semi-legal cheats?
Who terrifies guest workers and makes protesters scatter
And will arrest you for looking poor for any little matter?
Newspaper headlines proclaiming the continuity between the Peacekeepers and police appeared on screen. When they went away, two rows of young people were standing, microphones in hand.
Robert Lenn! You still miss the good old days
When you could set homes ablaze.
Robert Lenn, you claim to speak of law and order
But you couldn't care any less about either!
It went in that vein from there, the performers calling Lenn out on his hypocrisy. Donna couldn't help but crack a smile, even though she still felt terrible. A few of the younger guards must have loved this song - they were reform-minded and hated the police leadership, which they considered (justifiably) to be full of former Peacekeepers. The others would be unhappy, as they had little patience for what they considered to be left-wing populism. It was odd to have the guards forming their own cliques.
The next morning, Donna still felt unpleasantly full and bloated, but at least she didn't want to throw up anymore. Unwilling to risk it, she flushed away her breakfast and began to peruse the newspapers instead. Nothing of extreme significance, fortunately. When she heard the others start to move, she also stood up and went to exchange the utensils for a broom and washcloth. "Good morning," Grass told her.
"Good morning to you, too," Donna replied. "Did you sleep well?"
Next to them, things were less civil. Smith had marched up to Hope and was insisting in a loud voice that she hadn't taken her undershirt.
"Why would I need your undershirt?" she demanded, arms propped on her hips. "I have enough of my own."
Hope glared at her. "You have the most undershirts of all of us!"
"What, did you count them personally?" Smith retorted.
One of the guards raised her head from her own newspaper, which was also censored. "Female Twenty, go clean your cell!" she said. Smith stalked off, Hope glaring at her back.
Donna was always careful to hang up her socks and underwear between larger articles of clothing, which were labelled with her number, in order to prevent such a situation from occurring. She swept her cell, looking forward to talking with Theodosius. He hadn't reappeared at all the other day.
"That took you a while," Theodosius remarked as she joined him and Vartha. He looked even more worn out than the previous day, but his eyes were a little bit brighter. "Long jog today?"
It was supposed to have been the next day, but Donna had wanted to get rid of that unpleasant feeling inside her. "Yes," she said. "How are you?"
Vartha sighed, leaning against his rake. They were spreading soil on a vegetable bed. "He's surpassed himself and now thinks he was at fault for everything."
"Not everything," Theodosius fired back, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Just the actions of my ministry. Of which I was kept well-informed." He raked the ground.
"And do you sleep better at night now?" Vartha asked sarcastically.
Theodosius stopped and straightened out. "Not at all," he admitted. "Now I just lie there and think. Though I don't regret it. At least the truth is out now."
"Huh," Donna said, wishing that she could say she understood. But she couldn't. For as long as those documents remained hidden, there would be a gulf between the two of them.
A/N: Let us all pour one out for Dr. Chu, who finally managed to wrench a confession out of one of her charges. It took her several months to get Theodosius to talk about the photograph, but she persevered.
The Dillon Breakrock Trial is, of course, the Frankfurt Auschwitz trial, which did indeed only take place thanks to the stubbornness of Fritz Bauer, who was incarcerated in a concentration camp in 1933 for being a Social Democrat (the fact that he was a Jew didn't help), was released quickly thanks to his obscurity, and left the country in 1935. He returned in 1945, re-entered the justice system, and really annoyed his colleagues and general society by not letting the past be the past. The trial was noteworthy for how it greatly increased interest in the past in West Germany.
Aoide Wegener is one-third Richard Baer (last commandant of Auschwitz, died in custody awaiting trial), one-third Robert Mulka (second-in-command of Rudolf Höss, most senior defendant at Frankfurt), and one-third Höss himself - she has the same background. Höss went to war in 1916, when he was fifteen, and at seventeen was the army's youngest NCO. After coming home, he finished highschool and joined a paramilitary organization. At one point, he and Martin Bormann (yes, that guy) carried out a political murder together and spent a few years in prison. And that's not even the craziest Nazi origin story.