Free Fixing Hell by Larry C. James, Gregory A. Freeman

Luther,” I replied. “Luther, I would like for you to go and see this detainee two or three times next week. But don’t even bother trying to get anything out of him. Just put him in the booth, eat your sandwich with some pistachio nuts and some fresh hot tea. You know how they all crave tea. And read the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Don’t say a word to him, but repeat this each time you bring him in the booth. Don’t yell at him or be rough in any way.”
    Luther was looking at me like I’d lost my mind. He didn’t see where this was going. I told him to make sure he sat so that the detainee would be able to look over his shoulder and see the hot girls in the magazine, close enough that he could really smell the fish sandwich and the tea. Mind you, the prisoner wasn’t being denied food or left hungry. The detainees were fed quite well at Gitmo and almost all of them put on “Gitmo pounds” during their stay. The meals were regular, filling, and culturally appropriate, but a fish sandwich from McDonald’s would be a real treat, especially for this guy who was eating MREs at the moment because of his behavior.
    “Well hell, I don’t mind eating and looking at girls, sir, but that’s not doing my job. I’m supposed to be getting intel from this guy. You telling me to just forget that?”
    “Only for a while,” I told him. “At the end of the week, bring an extra hot fish sandwich. Let’s just see what happens.”
    Luther grinned just slightly and I could tell he was starting to understand the point I was making.
    Two weeks went by and Luther reported back to me that that during the first week the detainee seemed as confused as Luther had been at first, then he started showing some interest in the McDonald’s fish sandwich. When Luther held the magazine so that the prisoner could get a glimpse of the scantily clad women, the prisoner perked up and strained to see.
    After a week of those silent sessions, with no interaction at all, Luther brought in a second fish sandwich and offered it to the detainee in a casual way, not like a bribe but just as a nonchalant gesture from one person to another—“You want this? Here you go.” He continued bringing sandwiches for the prisoner, and on one of those visits he also left the magazine on the table for him. On my instructions, Luther soon told the prisoner, in a very hushed, conspiratorial tone after checking to make sure no guards were watching, “Here, you take this magazine back to your cell. Just hide it in your pants. I understand you’re a man like me, and you need this.” The guards, of course, were in on the ruse and didn’t “find” the hidden magazine.
    The prisoner’s attitude improved so much that he looked forward to his interrogation sessions and enjoyed seeing Luther walk into the room. Slowly over that second week, Luther started talking to him.
    It wasn’t long before the rapport between Luther and the detainee led to useful intel. There was no need for me to lecture and hammer home how this approach could work so much better than trying to wrestle a detainee into a pink nightgown; Luther saw the results for himself. Luther shared his experience with the other interrogators and soon most of the noncompliant detainees became cooperative. Incentive-, respect-based interrogations began to catch on. I saw Luther in the parking lot late one afternoon and he told me the new strategy was continuing to work.
    “But Colonel, I still can’t figure out why your recommendations worked so well with that son of a bitch,” he said. “I mean, it sure as hell worked, but why would a mean bastard like that open up just because I gave him a sandwich?”
    “Luther, my momma taught me that a good meal among enemies can cast good fortune,” I told him. “Luther, remember all human beings have the capacity to appreciate and understand acts of decency and kindness, even that dude who says something nasty about your wife. ‘Treat a man the way