50 Years to Dallas

50 Years to Dallas

By Philip Fraterrigo

Copyright 2014, Philip Fraterrigo

Smashwords Edition

Author's Note:

This book is a work of fiction. It is not historical fact. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Also, portions of the Warren Commission Report have been taken out of context and used in a manner to support the story line.

Table of Contents

Title page

Prologue

Part 1 – 1963 to 1968

Chapter 1

Part 2 - 2013

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

November 22, 1963

He stood on the sidewalk, knowing he must somehow find a way to enter the building and get to the sixth floor before it was too late. As he entered through the front door, he had no real plan. There had been no time to devise one. He approached the reception desk and then someone shouted, The motorcade is coming! Everyone moved toward the front of the building, hoping to get a glimpse of the President. The first car in the motorcade could be seen a block away and heading in their direction. The security guard looked up at him. Please wait here one moment. I'll be right back, she said as she too left to walk the short distance to the front window.

As soon as her back was turned, he took off. He knew he only had minutes to spare and he headed for the stairwell knowing it would be faster than taking the elevator which went no higher than the fourth floor. He yanked the door open and was assaulted by the scent of old dust and mortar as he took the steps two at a time. Thankfully, he noticed the floor numbers were brightly stenciled on each door as he hurried upward. He needed to get to the sixth floor before the President's motorcade passed in front of the building. When he reached the fourth floor he was visibly winded but he continued on knowing that he must succeed.

Upon reaching the sixth floor, he pulled the door open and heard a shot and knew he was already too late. He scanned the cavernous room filled with irregular rows of boxes but could see no one else in the room. Suddenly, he heard another shot that came from behind a row to his left and he quickly rounded the corner. Then, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Lee Harvey Oswald was at the window chambering another round and he could see him look up in surprise as he rushed toward him. Oswald pulled the rifle away from the window, pointed it in his direction and pulled the trigger. The resulting explosion knocked him off his feet and he fell backward and lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling.

Blood began to pool around him and he knew he had botched it terribly. Not only had he failed to save the President but now he lay there dying and Oswald was sure to get away.

Through a gray haze he watched but Oswald made no move to escape. Instead, Oswald leaned in close and took his hand and he felt his fingers being pressed against something hard and cold. And, as the darkness closed in around him, he realized he had given Oswald the perfect alibi. My God, what have I done?

Back to TOC

PART 1

1963 to 1968

Chapter 1

November 22, 1963

When the Dallas Police reached the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository they found Oswald sitting quietly on the floor with the rifle in his hands. Half a dozen .44 caliber police revolvers were pointed in his direction and he realized that even the smallest movement could result in one of those nervous, shaky hands pulling a trigger and ending his life. Don't shoot. I killed him, he said gesturing with his head toward the body which lay on the floor six feet away.

Put the rifle down! demanded one of the police officers, Put it down now!

He moved very carefully, placing the rifle on the floor to his right. Then he looked up, wanting to explain what had happened but he was immediately swarmed by the police who flipped him over onto his stomach, driving his face into the wooden floorboards. A knee to the center of his back held him down and he gasped for breath while one of the officers locked his hands together behind his back. Get him out of here but keep him somewhere secure until the detectives arrive! shouted the lieutenant. Oswald was grabbed by the handcuffs and yanked to his feet causing severe pain to radiate from his arms to his shoulders. Once again, he tried to talk but no one was listening and he was pushed roughly out the door. You, the lieutenant continued, pointing at one of the patrolmen, get down to the car and radio headquarters. Tell them we may have the shooter in custody but we have a situation here that's more complicated and is going to require someone from Homicide right away. The rest of you, secure the area and don't let anyone touch anything until the detectives arrive.

****

A thorough examination of the crime scene yielded three shell casings, matching the number of shots that eyewitnesses had reported hearing. The shell casings were the correct caliber for the Mannlicher-Carcano rifle Oswald had been holding when the police arrived and they were quickly bagged and labeled as evidence. The rifle was also carefully wrapped in preparation for lab analysis later that day. After all evidence had been collected and numerous photographs taken, the unidentified body was removed and sent to the county morgue.

Lee Harvey Oswald was taken to police headquarters and as he sat in the interrogation room staring at the institutional green painted walls and the two way mirror, he knew his life depended on how convincing a story he could tell once the inevitable interview commenced. He didn't have long to wait as five minutes later, the door opened and in walked a detective who sat down across the table from him. Good afternoon Lee. I'm Detective William Peele. Do you understand why you are here?

Oswald studied the man. With his short cropped hair, blue eyes and fuzzy cheeks he looked much too young to be a detective. He wondered if Peele had been chosen for the interview on purpose, hoping he would respond better to someone closer to his own age rather than a more grizzled veteran. Am I under arrest? asked Oswald

No. You're here for questioning. We need your help. We need to understand what happened back at the Book Depository Building.

"Do you want to know what happened before or after your friends ground my face into the floor while I was trying to explain to them?" and he reached up and touched the abrasion on the side of his face.

"I apologize for that but you have to realize the intensity of the situation and you were holding a rifle when they arrived. Some of them still think you were the shooter. That's why it's important that you tell me what happened so we'll know the truth."

Oswald thought, Boy, is he ever laying it on thick, but it was now or never and he began to talk. I work at the Texas School Book Depository and I was on my lunch break.

Peele interrupted him, How long have you worked there?

Oswald sat as if he were calculating. Just over five weeks, he answered.

And what do you do?

Just general labor. I work in the warehouse. You can check with Roy Truly. He's the Building Superintendent.

Peele wrote Truly's name down. So what happened next? he asked.

I knew the Presidential Motorcade was due to drive by soon so instead of eating in the lunch room, I decided to go up to the sixth floor where I could eat my lunch and maybe get a good view of the President as he went by.He paused for a moment, expecting Peele to interrupt again with another question but when he remained silent, Oswald continued. I had just gotten to the top of the stairs and was opening the door when I heard a gunshot. I ran into the room and began to look around and then I heard another gunshot that sounded like it came from behind one of the stacks of boxes. I ran around the end of the stack and I surprised him before he could fire again. I jumped on him and somehow pulled the rifle away from him but he came at me and I pulled the trigger and he went down.

What happened next? asked Peele.

I was shocked, said Oswald, I've never shot anyone before. I just sat down on the floor and the next thing I knew, the police were there.

Peele finished writing in his note pad and then he got up. I'll be back in a minute, he said and stepped out the door. He went a short distance down the hall, pulled open a nondescript door and stepped into a small room.

The room was filled with three men, a tape recorder and cigarette smoke. One of the men was Assistant Chief of Detectives, Fred Martin. "We've already called Truly. His story checks out. He's been working there for