Before he knew it, he was sitting alone in a small room labeled “Interrogation Room 5b” on the door. The room, about 10 feet square, had only two chairs and a small table between them in the center, and a large mirror on the wall he was facing. Hutchinson had no idea what he was doing there, but he was getting more and more uneasy as time went on.
After about 15 minutes, the door opened, and a different HSF officer entered the room and closed the door behind him before taking the seat on the other side of the table.
“Are you Arnold Hutchinson?” he asked, looking intently at Hutchinson.
“Yes I am. Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll be asking the questions for now, Mr. Hutchinson. Are you the editor of the Nashville Free Press?”
“Yes I am.”
“Did you write and have printed this editorial in this morning’s edition of your paper?” the officer asked as he opened a folder and placed a copy of the editorial on the table in front of Hutchinson.
“Yes I did,” Hutchinson replied as he leaned forward to look at the paper.
“Mr. Hutchinson, are you aware that the contents of this editorial are considered seditious?”
“Seditious?!” Hutchinson exclaimed. “This is America, where anyone has the right to say anything they want at any time. Freedom of speech is still guaranteed in the First Amendment. There’s nothing remotely seditious in what I wrote.”
“It speaks out against the President and his policies. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re at war against forces that are trying to destroy our country and our way of life. Editorials like this only serve to create dissension, which gives our enemies what they need to succeed. We must remain united if we’re to defeat our enemies.”
“We’ll never defeat our enemies if we lose who we fundamentally are as Americans,” Hutchinson replied angrily. “It’s our way of life that they’re after. You’re suggesting that we change our way of life to preserve our way of life, and that’s absurd. We have always had the right and the responsibility to question our leaders. That’s how we keep them honest. That’s how we keep them humble. That’s how we remind them what it means to be American.”
The HSF officer looked at Hutchinson with a mixture of sarcasm and pity. “It’s clear that you have no idea what’s needed to protect this country from its enemies. Your editorial is seditious and can’t be tolerated.”
“That’s your opinion, and you’re entitled to it. But I’ve done nothing wrong.” Hutchinson stood up. “May I go now?”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand,” the HSF officer said, motioning for Hutchinson to sit back down. “You’re being detained for giving aid to the enemy, for supporting terrorism, and for sedition.”
“I’m what?!”
“Under Executive Order number 63855, you’re being designated as a non-combatant enemy of the state. You’ll be sent to an internment facility for a duration deemed appropriate for the national good.”
“You can’t do that!” Hutchinson exploded. “I have rights. I demand an attorney. You can’t deny me my rights to due process.”
“You haven’t been denied any due process. You’re not being charged with a crime; therefore you have no need of an attorney. You’re being designated an enemy prisoner of war under Executive Order. It’s all completely legal.”
Hutchinson didn’t have time to respond. The door opened and the original two HSF officers entered. They grabbed Hutchinson and forced him to his feet. They took him to a room where he was photographed, fingerprinted, and strip-searched. His clothes and personal items were placed in a small box, and he was given an off-white jumpsuit to put on. Once he was dressed, he was taken outside and placed in the back of a truck with three other men and women dressed the same way. Four guards sat with them and told them not to speak.
After what seemed like hours, the truck stopped, and the guards ordered the detainees to get out. Hutchinson shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight as he stepped down from the rear of the truck. He was at what appeared to be a military airfield. A large, grey cargo plane was a few dozen yards in front of him, and there were several other detainees and guards boarding the plane from the loading ramp at the rear. His guards pointed toward the plane, and Hutchinson and the others moved forward.
There were twenty or so other detainees already onboard, sitting in seats against the sides of the aircraft’s cargo bay, along with eight heavily armed guards. Hutchinson took the first empty seat and buckled himself in. He turned to say something to the person sitting next to him, but one of the guards pointed his rifle at Hutchinson’s head and ordered him to remain silent. A few minutes later, the rear loading ramp was closed, and the plane’s engines started.
They flew in silence for the next several hours. Hutchinson looked closely at the other detainees. There were men, women, young people, old people, people of all races. The only thing that they all seemed to have in common was their clothing and the same confused and scared look on their faces.
Hutchinson felt the nose of the plane lower and knew that they were getting ready to land. He felt the outside heat against his back as the plane descended. The plane landed and soon rolled to a stop. The rear loading ramp lowered, immediately making the cargo bay feel like an oven. Wherever we are, it must be very far south.
The guards motioned for everyone to get up and exit the plane. There was a bus waiting for them just beside the bottom of the ramp, and the guards directed everyone to get onboard. As the bus drove away from the airfield, Hutchinson saw that they were in a tropical location. At first, he thought they must be in the Florida Keys, but what he saw out the bus windows looked like photographs he had seen of the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba.
They drove in silence for several minutes before arriving at a building near what appeared to be the harbor. They were ushered off the bus and into the building, where they were photographed again. A strange ankle bracelet was attached to each detainee’s right leg. A technician knelt down and attached a computer cable that connected the bracelet to a hand-held device. The technician punched in some codes and disconnected the cable from the ankle bracelet. Once everyone’s ankle bracelet was encoded, the detainees were ushered out the back of the building toward the docks.
They were escorted to a U.S. Navy LCAC sitting on the beach near the dock. LCACs (“Landing Craft Air Cushion”) are high-speed hovercrafts capable of carrying a 60-ton payload over water and land at speeds in excess of 40 knots and a range of up to 200 nautical miles. LCACs skim over the waves at high speed and right up onto the beach for loading and unloading.
They boarded the LCAC and were put inside what looked like a modified cargo container in the center. The inside of the container resembled the cargo bay of the plane that had brought them there. Hutchinson was confused, but he remained silent. It was clear that the plane had only landed at a transfer point. They still hadn’t reached their final destination.
The doors to the container were locked, and the detainees were warned not to speak to anyone. There were seats against the walls of the cabin and two bathrooms at the rear. There were also two bins of what looked like sandwiches and bottled water in the center of the room. Hutchinson grabbed a sandwich and a bottle and found his seat. He ate in silence, wondering what was going to happen next.
After several minutes, Hutchinson felt the ship rise on its air cushion and move forward into the water. He surmised that they were leaving the harbor for their next destination. He felt very tired all of a sudden and had trouble keeping his eyes open. He looked around and saw many of the other detainees struggling to stay awake or