At Ellen's request, I tried to convince leaders of Congress and officials in the State Department and at the United Nations to postpone the election for at least a year, until all processes were in place for a free and fair ballot.

Fear reigned in Liberia, as Taylor circulated the word that unless he won, he would continue to subject the country to terror. In the streets of Monrovia, children chanted, "He killed my ma. He killed my pa. If he's President, he won't kill me!"

As a result of the widespread intimidation, as well as voter fraud, Taylor did win. Ellen was furious enough to strongly protest former President Jimmy Carter's demand that she accept the election results and work with Taylor. That's when she called me.

"Are we going to give to Charles Taylor, through a flawed election, that which he was never able to achieve through mass murder?" she asked.

I knew, however, that the United States and the international community had already turned their backs on Ellen and Liberia. I was told by an administration official that the decision to adopt a "policy of redemption" toward Taylor had been made. I was livid. "Would you have done the same with Hitler or Stalin?" I asked.

Ellen realized that there was nothing else she could do but live to fight another day. And she did.

Charles Taylor continued his reign of unmitigated terror, and more than a quarter of a million people were killed.

Tonight, as Ellen's sister, Jenny, cuts the cake, Ellen continues her story. After she was thrown in jail, a naked woman the guards had just raped was tossed into the same cell. One of the guards turned to Ellen and said, "Some say you are Gola," one of Liberia's ethnic groups.

"It is true," she answered."Say something in the Gola language," he responded.Ellen complied.

Hearing her, he offered to sleep in her cell so that she would not be raped.

It's the little things - a moment of humanity - a shared connection with place and home.