Page 92 of The 9th Man

Something told him it wasn’t.

“Thomas Rowland is not a reactionary,” he said. “He’s moving on this because it presents a clear and immediate threat. Why? I have no idea. But it’s scaring the hell out of him.”

“So what do we do?”

“We keep going.”

She smiled. “I was hoping you were going to say that.”

44

Sunday — March 29 — 1:15P.M.

WITH JILLIAN AT THE WHEEL, LUKE SPENT THE ENTIRETY OF THEsix-hour drive west staring at the laptop screen and muttering to himself. Pigeon had been good about allowing them to keep the computer on a promise that it either be returned or replaced. She’d also offered them the use of the house for the night, opting to stay with a friend. Thankfully, they were not far from Dallas, Texas, and he’d decided, with Jillian agreeing, that a firsthand look was in order.

When they reached downtown he asked her to find the closest parking spot, which turned out to be an underground garage beside a castle-like redbrick building. The day was bright, warm, and dry. They walked west to a street shaded by massive oaks then stopped before a rectangular reflecting pool. Aligned down its center a trio of fountains rippled the water’s surface. Aside from an elderly man in a Cowboys ball cap feeding the birds they were alone. It was Sunday, just after the church hour, and the business district around them was lightly traveled. They took seats on a low stone wall.

“I came here once, in high school,” he said. “I pestered my dad until he brought me. I took so many pictures and asked so many questions, people were staring at us. On November 22, 1963, this whole area was packed with hundreds of people. It was unseasonably warm and sunny, a lot like today, but windy, coming from the west-southwest at twenty-two miles per hour.”

They both stared out at Dealey Plaza.

“It’s so small,” Jillian said. “Compact. Like a choke point.”

He’d been thinking the same thing. A perfect place to corral your target where the advantage was all with the shooter. Oswald had chosen his spot with care.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s walk. It’ll be easier to picture if we’re standing on the spot.”

They headed down the sidewalk toward the intersection of Houston and Main. At the corner they waited until the pedestrian signal changed to green then crossed, turning left into a triangular expanse of lush grass. He led Jillian to the other side and stopped at the curb.

“This is Elm Street. Do you see the painted white X out in the street? That’s where Kennedy was fatally shot. They’re scrupulous about maintaining it.”

“A bit much, isn’t it?”

“It’s history. To our right is the corner of Houston and Elm. At the time, that tall brick building was the Texas School Book Depository. On the sixth floor, about sixty feet up, in the southeast corner window, Lee Harvey Oswald was waiting with his Italian-made bolt-action rifle. The time was 12:29P.M.”

“You know your stuff.”

“On this subject I do. I read a lot about it over the years. It’s still fascinating how it all happened.”

Kennedy’s motorcade drove down Houston Street traveling about fifteen miles per hour. Crowds were heavy, six deep from the curb. There were two cars in the procession. President Kennedy and First Lady Jackie were riding in the back seat of an open-top convertible. Forward of them sat Texas governor John Connally and his wife, Nellie. In the front seat were two SecretService agents, Roy Kellerman on the passenger side and William Greer, driving. Flanking the limousine were two Dallas cops on motorcycles, James Chaney and Bobby Hargis. Six feet behind Kennedy’s limousine was the trail car. According to the Warren Commission Report, nine men occupied it. Secret Service agents Emory Roberts, Samuel Kinney, John Ready, Clinton Hill, William McIntyre, Paul Landis, Glen Bennett, Thomas Rowland, and George Hickey. As they turned left onto Elm Street, the trail car fell behind a bit. It picked up speed and closed the gap and quickly resumed its designated distance to Kennedy’s limousine. Both cars were now traveling at about eleven miles per hour. Kennedy’s limousine then moved into Elm Street’s center lane.

On the sixth floor of the Texas Book Depository, Lee Harvey Oswald was hunched over his rifle peering through the scope, watching as the vehicles made the turn onto Elm. Below, the Kennedys were waving to the people who’d come to watch the motorcade pass on its way to the Trade Mart, where the president was scheduled to speak. Sixty feet away on the grassy knoll, Abraham Zapruder, a clothing manufacturer, and his secretary Marilyn Sitzman, had also come to witness the motorcade. Zapruder was filming the event with his new camera, an 8mm Bell & Howell Model 414. Over the next few moments Zapruder would capture about twenty-six seconds, or 486 frames, of the actual assassination. Zapruder, who suffered from vertigo, was standing on a concrete plinth about four feet off the ground, his secretary steadying him.

When Kennedy’s limousine was 265 feet from the book depository, Oswald fired his first shot. The bullet penetrated Kennedy’s upper back and exited his throat. Instinctively Kennedy’s hands came up to cover the wound. At this point no one realized he’d been shot.

But Jackie was startled.

She knew her husband was in distress.

According to the Warren Report, after the bullet exited Kennedy’s neck, it punched through Governor Connally’s seat, pierced his chest, came out the other side, and struck his wrist before embedding itself in his right thigh. This bullet was later found on Connally’s gurney at Parkland Memorial Hospital.

Zapruder’s camera captured the initial gunshot at around frame 180. Sensing something was wrong, Agent Greer, the driver, tapped the brakes. The limousine slowed. The trail car reacted accordingly. At the wheel Agent Roberts also braked, but harder.

The limousine lurched forward momentarily.

A few seconds later, at the now infamous Frame 313 of the Zapruder film, a second gunshot was fired, slamming into the back of Kennedy’s skull and blasting out of his forehead.

In the trail car Secret Service agent Clint Hill saw the second shot. He jumped off the running board and ran toward Kennedy’s limousine, where Jackie had climbed onto the trunk. Some reports said she was trying to help Hill into the car. Others said she was trying to retrieve a chunk of her husband’s skull ripped free by the second shot.

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