On the morning of May 29, 1942, Mary Tsukamoto awoke to find her mattress on the floor. Glancing around the bedroom that she shared with her husband, Al, it took her a moment to get her bearings: Today was the day she and her family would lose their freedom. Their bed frame, along with the rest of their furniture, was in storage. “We had broken no law, committed no criminal act,” she later wrote. But “on this day we were to leave our homes. No one knew where we were to go nor for how long we would be gone…. We were labeled as criminals because our faces were Japanese.”
Al and Mary’s daughter, Marielle, who was 5 at the time, clearly recalls that morning. “I remember getting up early, and…
