Dieter Katz lay on a flimsy cot in a dank cell, a narrow window near the ceiling. His head had been shaved, his rations restricted, and although he had been in solitary confinement for several days, he had yet to be questioned by authorities. He realized how stupid he had been, darting across a graveyard littered with guards in a vain attempt to escape. One impulsive action had changed his entire life, a few seconds in two decades of existence. One day he was among the leaders in his class at the Technical University in West Berlin, and a few days later he was in a Stasi prison. He wondered about his parents, working a farm near the Polish border, so proud that their son had gone to the city to get an education. He knew they wouldn’t be very proud of him now. But he swore that if he ever g
