XAVIER
Ralph and I had journeyed to the barracks to question the guards on the matter of Dowson. It was unacceptable to know that someone in our watch had turned a blind eye to such an important subject.
Ralph had gathered them all into a line, and he was approaching each one individually. Looking them in the eye and asking, “What do you know Dowson’s death? Where were you when it happened? Did you see anything suspicious?”
One by one, they insisted they knew nothing. And one by one, they seemed to be growing more nervous, more agitated by the interrogation.
Amidst our questioning, the room erupted in accusations.
“Oh, whoever knows something just say it!”
“It wasn’t me! I wasn’t stationed at the time.”
“Daniel certainly had reason to use the bathroom quite often.”
“Shut up, Garett
