I walked down the white and grey hall to the visitor center; the large, sturdy matron marched behind me. Nancy, the fresh-faced middle-class reporter, looked up when the door opened to brightly wave me over to the steel table like we were friends meeting for lunch at a cafe. She apologized for being late; she had to drop her dog off at the veterinarian before coming to see me. She told me her pug’s name was Lucky and he w...