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“He should have been in the mess,” Colonel Rasberry said.
“You were telling us, son,” Jackson said, “what the sergeant did when he came into the mess.”
“Yes, sir. He took a look at Stauffer and told me to call the medics. I told him I already had. And just about then, the medics showed up. They took one look at Stauffer and loaded him on a stretcher and hauled him off.”
“And what, if anything, did you and the sergeant do then?” Jackson asked.
“The sergeant told me not to let anybody leave and to wait for Lieutenant Anderson . . .”
“Who is?” Jackson asked.
“One of my officers, sir,” Rasberry said. “He has a platoon of prison guards. He was officer of the day at the time of this incident.”
“And how long did it take for Lieutenant Anderson to arrive at the prisoners’ mess?” Jackson asked.
“About fifteen minutes, sir.”
“And what did you do while you were waiting for him?”
“I called for the corporal of the guard, and when he showed up, I told him to lock up the kitchen crew someplace, and then return the prisoners to their cells.”
“They were all there having breakfast when this happened?” Jackson asked. “Göring, Kaltenbrunner, Speer . . . all of them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what was their reaction when Stauffer fell to the floor, frothing at the mouth?”
“I don’t know how to answer that, sir. It was like they were watching a dog that had been run over by a car.”
“No one tried to help him?”
“No, sir.”
“Anyone say anything, Casey?” Cronley asked.
“Kaltenbrunner was sitting at a table with Göring. There’s two tables—like picnic tables—in each row. Stauffer was sitting at the table furthest from the wall. Göring and Kaltenbrunner were at the table nearest the wall.
“They looked over their shoulders when Stauffer fell off his bench. Kaltenbrunner said to Göring, ‘Well, at least someone has access to those capsules.’ Göring sort of laughed. Chuckled.”
“I think we should determine the cause of death,” Jackson said. “Ken, would you please get the doctor in here?”
“Yes, sir,” Brewster said. And then added, “Come with me, Sergeant. I’ll take you back to the day room.”
“Unless Justice Jackson objects, I think Casey should stay,” Cronley said.
“Please change chairs, Sergeant,” Jackson said, “so the doctor can sit there.”
“Yes, sir.”
—
Brewster ushered the pudgy medical officer whom Cronley remembered had strip-searched Luther when he arrived at the Tribunal prison, into the chair Casey had given up.
“You won’t be sworn, Doctor,” Jackson said. “This is an informal inquiry. But we do want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. All right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When did you first learn what had happened in the prisoners’ mess?”
