“I returned to the Kirkwood and loaded the .44-caliber Henry derringer so she would not fail me of fire at the appointed time.”
“Did you see Andrew Johnson when you returned?”
“I did. We had drinks at the hotel bar, and I reaffirmed my commitment to carrying out the evil deed previously discussed. We spent a goodly amount of time working out the final details, and Johnson gave me a few new specific instructions necessary for a successful outcome. He told me to make sure of my aim, and I replied I would not fail in my work, that I would shoot the president in the brain. To that, he said, ‘Then I am most certainly from now forward the president of the United States.’”
“Do you believe Johnson conspired in this only to become president?”
“No, as much as he craved the office, Johnson was a man who believed that if Lincoln would violate the property rights of the southern people by emancipating slaves, he would also violate their property rights by continuing his policy of the confiscation of their remaining properties.
“We said our adieus and I returned to the theater where I confirmed Lincoln’s presence in the decorated box. I hid myself away in a spot selected earlier that day and waited for the appropriate time in the play to make my move.
“When the appointed time arrived, I entered the box stealthily and placed the end of the barrel so close to Lincoln’s head that it nearly touched him. Everyone in the box faced away from me entranced by the activities on the stage, a fact making my job all the easier. Wasting no time, I pulled the trigger and fired the shot that inevitably killed the sixteenth president of the United States. In doing so, I propelled to the office the seventeenth president of the United States, Andrew Johnson.
“In almost the same movement that I pulled the trigger, I also jumped from the box and down onto the stage, but not before entangling the spur of my right boot in the decorative drapery on the box. The ensnarement caused me to fall down onto a spot not intended in my plans, a fact that threw my right shinbone against the edge of the stage which fractured it roughly eight inches above the ankle.”
Of this specific incident I had read and heard repeated, so I asked him to show me proof.
“Will you show me your leg?”
He rolled up the right leg of his trousers and pointed to an uneven spot on the shinbone that clearly indicated a previous crack in the bone.
To this exhibition, I nodded that I understood its importance.
“Pray, continue.”
“I made my exodus from the back of the building and ran as fast as I could on a broken leg to the alleyway and my horse. My associate, David Herold, had held the horse as close as possible to the back entrance as I committed murder inside. To my relief, I found both Herold and the horse waiting in the exact appointed spot when I stepped outside. Herold helped me aboard the horse at once. I kicked the steed with my good leg, and Herold slapped it hard on the rump, acts which sent the beast off into the night toward F Street as if I were riding a winged Pegasus.”
“You will pardon me if I ask another question.”
“Certainly.”
"You say you jumped from the box onto the stage and then immediately made your way to the exit door?”
“That is not exactly true. When I landed upon the stage, I shouted, ‘Sic semper tyrannis.’ I then ran across the stage and knocked down a one William Withers and took a slash at him with my blade. Then I made for the door.”
“Why would you waste precious time in those acts when your life depended on a lightning-fast exit from the building?”
“Because it was important for me to be recognized in order for the conspiracy to succeed.”
“Explain that to me.”
“Remember when I told you that Johnson and I discussed a few last-minute details before I set out to the Ford Theater? Well, after I killed the president and jumped onto the stage, I then made sure to shout ‘Sic semper tyrannis’ in part to announce in my own distinct stage voice that I am the actor John Wilkes Booth and in part to allow as many attendees as possible to see my well-publicized face. This was done at the request of Johnson who claimed it as all but necessary for the overall plan to succeed.”
“And you trusted him?”
“In this conspiracy I trusted him, but in nothing else. As I said before, there were times when my brain pondered the possibility that Johnson sought to set me up, but the more I considered it, the more I shoved it from my mind completely toward the end. I had to in order to stay focused on my task at hand. Why would Johnson want me apprehended only for me to name him in the conspiracy? Many had witnessed us together over the many months conversing over drinks in the Kirkwood Hotel bar. It served no interest of Johnson for authorities to apprehend me so that I could name him in the conspiracy to kill the president. His plan made all the sense in the world for me to escape completely, not for one night or two but until the end of time, forever tidying up matters and forever easing the mind of the future president.
“Johnson also reminded me of the oath I took when joining the society some years before. I knew he had taken the same oath and that we both stood subject to the authority of the same league, and that he also had to trust the plan to save his own skin just as I had to trust it to save mine.
“But, we digress. Suffice to say, I reached the bridge at the East Potomac River in a timely manner. A guard stood at the east end of the bridge, and he asked in a clear voice, ‘Where are you going?’
“I answered, ‘T.B.’
“The guard then asked, ‘Where?’
“I answered, ‘T.B. Road’ as I had been instructed by Johnson.
“The guard then called for help to raise the gate; an act completed forthwith. I then kicked the horse into the same full speed with which we had departed the theater. I made for Surrattville where Herold caught up with me according to plan. We allowed the horses to rest for a few minutes before spending the rest of the night traveling toward the home of Dr. Samuel Mudd.”
“Did you know of Dr. Mudd previously, or did you hear about him from someone in Surrattville?”
“I had met Mudd several months before when I purchased a horse from him.”
“Did you not feel excruciating pain in your leg?”
“My excitement was such that the pain was somewhat dulled, but definitely forced my pace to be much slower than I liked. Anyway, we reached Dr. Mudd’s home around four o’clock in the morning on April 15th. Herold and Mudd helped me off my horse and up the stairs of the Mudd home. Mudd cut off my boot and began an examination of the swollen leg. He then dressed and splint the leg by bandaging it with strips of cloth and carefully cut pieces of cigar boxes. We remained at the Mudd home for the rest of the day and departed as soon as darkness fell with my bootless right foot protected only by Mudd’s bandages and pieces of cigar box with a sock covering.
“Around five o’clock in the morning on April 16th, we reached the home of one Mr. Cox, Confederate sympathizer. Cox, having heard of the assassination, refused us admittance, perhaps fearing retribution. However, he did us the kindness of asking his overseer to hide us in a pine thicket near the Potomac River banks behind his plantation.
“I remember the overseer as if I had seen him only yesterday. He stood not quite so tall as myself, but seemed to carry approximately the same weight. His hair and eyes were as black as a raven, and he donned a well-trimmed growth of whiskers over his face. I called him by the name of Johnny, the moniker given many Confederate soldiers. I remember Cox and a Mr. Jones, who I supposed was the half-brother of Cox, calling him Ruddy.
“Ruddy, if that was his actual name, had been a Confederate sympathizer like Cox, his boss, and possessed no moral dilemma whatsoever in delivering us out of harm’s way. On our way to the pine thicket, Ruddy told us that some of Colonel Mosby’s command of Confederate troops were then stationed south of the Rappahannock River near Bowling Green. Ruddy stated he could deliver us into the safety of these forces for the price of three hundred dollars.
“Of course, we were happy to accept Ruddy’s deal. He left us in our hiding place in the pine thicket and proceeded to Bowling Green, a point roughly thirty-six miles distant, to arrange with some of Mosby’s men to meet us on the Rappahannock River which then served as the dividing line between the Confederate and Yankee armies still swarming throughout the region.”
“Were you not afraid to be left there not knowing when this Ruddy would return?”
“We had no choice. I had also trusted that Johnson would keep any pursuing Yankees off our trail for as long as he possibly could without his devices giving him away. Further, Mr. Jones had accompanied us into the thicket with Ruddy, and he stayed to look after us until Ruddy returned.
“He came back into our camp in the thicket several days later and reported that arrangements had been made with a Captain Jett. Others in Mosby’s ranks were to meet us at a ferry near Ports Royal and Conway on the Rappahannock River on April 22nd.
“We began our trek at once, eventually crossing the Potomac to its south side with only eighteen miles left to travel to the agreed upon point on the Rappahannock. The most treacherous leg of our journey lay before us in that region between our position on the Potomac and the endpoint on the Rappahannock. That area was so heavily infested with Yankee soldiers that our discovery could happen at any minute.
“Fearful, terrified in fact, of an easy discovery with my lame leg, I determined to employ a ruse for added protection en route. Near the home of Dr. Stewart, we found an old negro man named Lewis moving across the countryside with a nearly broken-down wagon pulled by two quite depleted and diminished horses. I approached the old man and offered him a handsome price to participate in my journey. He accepted my offer.
“Using wood slats, we made a false bottom in the old man’s wagon. We lay straw on the very bottom on which I could lay, and the slats were affixed solidly over me, allowing me just enough space to breathe and move only a little while lying down for the duration of the trip. On the top of the false bottom between the sideboards lay all of the old man’s assorted belongings—such items as pots, pans, blankets, mattresses, baskets and farm tools. There were even a few chickens caught up and placed in a split basket fastened securely to the wagon’s hind gate.
“So, with roughly eighteen miles left on the journey to the appointed spot on the Rappahannock River, we set out. All along the way, Herold and Ruddy followed along some distance behind so as not to detract from the ruse of an old black man moving from one place to another. Of course, I lay almost motionless and refrained from speaking to old Lewis. In my coat pocket, I carried a few personal belongings, items such as a diary, several checks, a picture of my sister and a few letters. We made the eighteen miles without incident, much to my relief.
“Just as we approached the ferry, old Lewis said he saw soldiers. Just then, I heard a commotion at the back of the wagon, the sound of someone removing everything attached to the hind gate, and then someone grabbed my good foot and pulled me out. I hit the ground on my back and looked up at Herold and Ruddy and silently thanked God they were not Yankee soldiers. With Herold on one side of me and Ruddy on the other, I hobbled as fast as I could onto the ferry where the Confederate soldiers were waiting for us. Those Confederates were the soldiers to which old Lewis referred when he said he saw soldiers . . . not Yankees.
“We got to the other side of the river, and I reached inside my pockets to retrieve money with which to pay Ruddy. In so doing, I discovered that I had lost the assorted belongings I mentioned earlier, those being the picture of my sister, my diary, a handful of letters and even a few extra checks. It dawned on me that the items had come out of my coat pocket because of the hurried manner in which I had been extracted from the wagon. I paid Ruddy and asked him to return to the other side of the river and quickly retrieve my lost articles from the wagon.
“Ruddy replied that he would go back and find the items in the wagon if they were still there and return the articles to me forthwith. The soldiers had arranged to take me to the Garrett home, and Ruddy knew to find me there when he returned with my belongings.
The trio of Ruddy, Herold and Captain Jett stepped into the boat to go back across the river and then make their way to the wagon. Upon retrieving the items from the wagon, the three had agreed to find me a shoe for my bad foot and other such articles that Herold and I might need on our way across the country.
“In the meantime, I had been introduced to two men connected with Mosby’s command, a Lieutenant Ruggles and a Lieutenant Bainbridge whose job it was to escort me to the Garrett home. It was in their company that I swiftly rode away as soon as Ruddy, Herold, and Jett boarded the batteau boat and began making their way back across the water.
“We made it to the Garrett home where Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge left me. They then proceeded to ride off in the distance where they could watch over the Garrett home until such time as Ruddy, Herold, and Jett returned with the items found in the wagon and a shoe for my bad foot. The plan had been for my protective trio to remain near Bowling Green overnight and then return with the goods the very next day.
“So, I spent the night at the Garrett home and awoke the following day highly anticipating the return of the trio carrying the belongings necessary for my continued escape journey. Sometime around two o’clock in the afternoon on April 23rd, Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge rode into the front yard where I lounged and notified me excitedly that I should leave the premises immediately, as a squad of Yankee soldiers had crossed the Rappahannock River in hot pursuit of Lincoln’s assassin.
“The two highly suggested I dart at once to a wooded ravine north of the Garrett house and remain there until such time as they returned in roughly one hour’s time with a horse for my escape. They advised me to remain as concealed as possible and not to come out until I heard their whistle.
“Naturally, I did as instructed. Without even notifying anyone at the Garrett home, I proceeded hastily to the area north of the house and found an area looking very much like the spot described by Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge. I concealed myself beneath several large clumps of brush and waited for what seemed like an eternity. The pounding of my heart echoed in my brain and beads of sweat poured profusely from my body as I waited nervously.
“Around three or four o’clock I heard the whistle signal and then stepped out of my hiding place in the brush. I was delighted to see my friends with an extra horse in hand. They told me the plan for my escape had changed due to unforeseen obstacles. They no longer believed it prudent for me to wait for the return of my belongings.
The three of us rode off westward at a rapid clip, but not so hurriedly as to wear down our mounts. We kept up a good pace until about midnight when we found a good spot in the woods in which to stop. We were maybe twenty-five miles west of the Garrett home. My two friends conversed with me at length and apprised me of the surrounding countryside while also instructing me as to the exact course for me to take out of the immediate vicinity.
“We shook hands, and I thanked the both of them before offering to pay for their services. They refused to accept my offer of payment and wished me good luck the rest of the way and bade me a fond farewell. We parted ways and, taking their advice, I made my way westward at a good clip for the first solid day before angling off to the southwest on the second.
“They counseled I should masquerade all along the way as a Confederate soldier returning home from the war, and this instruction I took. On the second day out from the Garrett home, I stopped at a farmhouse inhabited by three elderly ladies who took me in as a friendly Confederate. The ladies fed me and my horse and allowed both of us to rest up for as long as needed. I allowed that I should return to my escape trail after only a few hours of resting. I paid the ladies one dollar in silver coin and pushed out.
“Pretending to be a Confederate soldier returning home proved successful for me all along my escape route. Over the course of nearly six days, I continued down through West Virginia and East
ern Kentucky before stopping to rest for nearly a week some fifty or sixty miles southwest of the town of Warfield. There I stayed with a widow lady and her young son while receiving much-needed food, water, and sleep.
“From there, I traveled to the south and found a good spot from which to cross the Mississippi River. My crossing point was at a locale called Catfish Point in the state of Mississippi, a short distance south of where the Arkansas River flows into the Mississippi. After crossing, I set my course for the Indian Territory. Its remoteness of locale deemed it as the best possible hiding place in the world by Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge as well as myself. I had heard of the fighting Confederate Indians of Indian Territory long before and knew that there was no safer place in all the country to hide than with any of those five tribes once fiercely allied with the late Confederacy.”
As he spoke, my mind returned to the day I first met St. Helen, or Booth, at General Watie’s camp during my last visit to Indian Territory.
“And you must have eventually found your way to General Watie and his fighting Cherokees, for that is where I first met you in his camp after the war had ended.”
“You are correct. I enjoyed the protection of the various tribes for approximately eighteen months, and spent considerable time among the Cherokees, before setting out to Nebraska. There in Nebraska City I met a man for whom I worked hauling provisions by wagon train destined for the soldiers stationed at Salt Lake City, Utah. When almost to Salt Lake City, I left the wagon train prematurely without asking for or receiving pay. I set out on my own to San Francisco where I met with my mother and brother, Junius. I remained for a time in California electing to make my way to Mexico where I also spent some considerable time. From there, I eventually found myself in the safe K.G.C. haven of Granbury, Texas where I now reside under the alias, John St. Helen.
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