In the darkness of early morning, Mona McGuire startled awake. A fist beat on the barracks door. Her heart accelerated into a full gallop, and then the yelling began.

Detectives from the Army’s criminal investigation division had burst into her room. They stripped her bedding, handcuffed her, along with three other female soldiers, and drove them to headquarters for fingerprinting, a mug shot, and hours of questioning.

It was May 1988, and McGuire’s interrogators knew everything—her romantic partner, where she hung out, even her menstrual cycle. Eventually, McGuire admitted that, yes, she had been intimate with women.

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