Escape from Aligator Alcatraz

There was no trial.
No lawyer.
No call home.

Just a van with no markings, a knock in the middle of the night, and the sudden silence that followed.

They called it a detention center. A holding facility. A necessary measure in the name of national security.
The President called it beautiful and christened it Alligator Alcatraz.

Set deep in the swamplands where no cameras flew and no journalists ventured, it was a place designed not for justice, but for erasure. A black site in broad daylight. Razo...