Justification For Killing

by Larry Hunt

Chapter Forty-Eight

  THREE HOURS BEFORE THE CAPTAIN’S ‘FLIGHT’

  “Is everyone okay?” asked Bud turning to check on Lou and LJ. Both were still unconscious; however, Rocky was beginning to arouse.

  “What happened? Where are we? Am I in a dream – no this must be a nightmare!” Rocky said drowsily. “Turn up that radio, I love them bagpipes!”

  “Snap out of it Rocky. There isn’t a radio. We should be on the roof of the Texas School Book Depository. It is supposed to be 9:00 Thursday morning, November 21, 1963. I hope we are in Dallas, Texas. Come on, shake the cobwebs out, and help me get LJ and Lou awake. We have to get out – this thing is going to disappear any minute now, and we do not want anyone on the ground seeing this ‘chrome dome’ sitting atop one of their downtown buildings.”

  Outside Pegasus, standing on the TSBD building, the four huddled next to a large air-conditioning unit watching their time machine evaporate into thin air. “Okay, men,” instructed Lonnie Joe. “Let’s work our way over to the back fire escape, get down to the ground, and slip into the impound lot.”

  Two by two they walked around the back of the School Book building until they reached the sidewalk on Houston Street. A left on Houston and a mere dozen or so feet they approached the gate to the Dallas City Storage Lot for Impounded Vehicles. It was unlocked and unguarded. Oh, for the trustful days of the 1960s, Bud thought. Trying to act as though they were city employees, they slide the gate open, “Bud?” asked Lou, “which car do we take?”

  Answering quickly, “The one that is easiest to steal.”

  “Bud, please could we not use the word ‘steal’?”

  “Okay, okay, Lou, but let’s not ‘borrow’ one of these on the end, it’s too easy for us to be seen from the street. Now let’s be quick everyone!”

  The third automobile from the street was a 1956 Bel-Air Chevrolet. Slipping between the two-parked cars LJ opened the driver’s door, turned his head from side to side and gave the car an admiring once over. Licking his lips he remarked, “I have always loved the ’56 Chevy. Hey, Rocky this one only has 63,000 miles on it!”

  “LJ, would you pipe down and quit ogling the car – we’re here to steal it, not buy it! Get in there and see if you can hotwire it.” No sooner had Rocky finished making his remarks to Lonnie Joe, he heard the engine of the Chevy turn over. It turned over a couple of times but did not start. “How did you hotwire this sucker so fast?” Rocky asked.

  “Skill, Rocky...just skill,” Lonnie Joe said grinning. “ And the fact the keys were over the visor helped, but darn, this thing has been sitting here too long Rocky. Maybe we need to pick another one.”

  “No, give’er another chance. I believe if you ‘goose’ the gas pedal a little she might crank. Slide over,” Rocky said. “Let me give’er a try.”

  Lonnie Joe moved over to the passenger’s side while Rocky got behind the wheel. He reached for the ignition and turned the key once more, this time applying a few pumps of gas with the accelerator pedal. Rocky had been correct the engine coughed a couple of times and then fired up. In a minute or so the old two hundred sixty-five horsepower Chevy V-8 was running smoothly.

  “How much gas do we have?”

  “Fuel gauge shows half a tank. Grab our bag of equipment and throw it into the back seat, we are ready to go. Take out the portable police scanner from the bag – and adjust the frequency to the Dallas police dispatcher: 155.256. We need to know what they are up to at all times.”

  A few vehicles down from the ’56 Chevy Bud and Lou had selected a 1949 Ford. It was old, rusty and looked like it had not been washed in ages, but it had one thing going for it – the impound personnel had left its key in the ignition. Who in the heck would want to steal it anyway, the impound workers must have thought. Bud opened the door and turned the key, nothing. The battery was dead. Bud with eyes shut, head in hands, leaned against the steering wheel and thought of the irony: here they were visitors from forty-nine years in the future; approximately twenty-four hours from one of America’s most historic tragedies; illegally trespassing in a Dallas police impound lot attempting to steal a car, and the car, of all things, has a dead battery. ‘For want of a horseshoe nail’, were they kidding? He thought.

  Driving up in their ‘ride’ Lonnie Joe rolled down his window and was told about the battery. “What bad luck!” he said. “Try another car, someone is apt to come into this lot at any moment.”

  “Bud,” said Lou with no response. “Bud,” again he got no response, “Bud!”

  “What!! What is it Lou, for goodness sakes!”

  “Bud, you know people have had a habit of keeping battery jumper cables in their car’s trunk. Why don’t we look in the trunk of this car and see if maybe there might be a pair of booster cables? If we could find a pair of cables we can get a jump start from Lonnie and Rocky’s car.”

  “Are you crazy Lou, who would carry around a pair of cables in their trunk?”

  “Gimme the trunk key,” demanded Lou.

  As the old 1949 Ford sat there with its motor humming, Lou, grinning, turned to Bud, “You got anything to say Mr. Who-Would-Carry-Cables-In-Their-Trunk know-it-all?”

  “Yeah, even a blind hog finds an acorn every once in a while – smart aleck!”

  Both teams now had their transportation. “We have to get away from here before being spotted. Let’s go a couple of blocks north on Houston and find a place to stop, then we can finalize our plans.”

  “Okay, LJ, Lou and I will follow you and Rocky - lead on.”

  A few blocks from downtown the two cars pulled into the huge parking lot of the Lone Star supermarket.

  DALLAS POLICE HEADQUARTERS

  “Sarge! Sarge! Yelled Patrolman Tommy Jackson running up to the Desk Sergeant’s station in the lobby of the Dallas Police Headquarter building only a couple of blocks south of the Lone Star parking lot.

  “Calm down Tom... tell me what’s the problem? The desk sergeant said looking over his desk at the perspiring patrolman.

  Removing his handkerchief from his back pocket, Officer Jackson mopped his brow as he began to explain, “Sarge, I was comin’ up Commerce, headin’ east and I glanced over to my left toward the Texas School Book Building...”

  “And... and... you got more? I drove by it this morning, didn’t see nothin’ out of the ordinary.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Sarge there was somethin’... somethin’ shiny on the roof. The morning sunlight was bouncing off it like it was on fire. It was real shiny Sarge!”

  “Ah, Tom, you must’ve seen one of them air vents. They are metal, and aluminum would shine pretty bright in the morning sun.”

  “Nah, that wern’t no air vent Sarge... I know what I seen. Just as quick as I get into my patrol car I’m goin’ over there and check it out. I know I saw somethin’ that weren’t normal.”

  After roll call, Officer Jackson and his partner Patrolmen Bert Lambert exited the police underground parking lot in their 1960 Ford cruiser and pointed it north on Houston toward the School Book Building. Passing the building Jackson said, “Bert, turn left right here into the police impoundment lot... we can see the top of the building real good from there.”

  “Hey Tommy, look here.” Bert said pointed to the two empty car slots as the patrol car pulled into the vehicle storage lot. “Look, there’s been grass growin’ around these two spots. Someone has moved these two cars recently Tommy.”

  “Reckon who would be stupid enough to steal cars from a police yard Bert?”

  “I don’t know, but this ain’t the actual impoundment lot Tommy, this is the Dallas City Storage Lot. The normal impoundment lot is on the other side of that chain link fence over yonder,” Bert said motioning with his finger to another part of the large area of vehicles parked within the fenced in facility. “Cars left here have been here a long time, sometimes months. Let’s go talk with the Supervisor in charge. Maybe he moved ’em.”

  Finding the small wooden building used as the office for the two person
s in charge of the impoundment facility Officer Jackson and Lambert began questioning the employees about the disappearance of the two vehicles.

  Checking through his card file Mr. Willoughby the lot supervisor, looked over his glasses at the two officers standing in his office, and remarked, “Well I’ll be!! You’re right. There hasn’t been a removal of any vehicles from the Storage Lot in over two months. Those two vehicles must have been stolen. Oh my! This is going to be a stain on my impeccable record... I have never before lost a vehicle under my care. Your the police, do your duty... go find my two missing cars.”

  Patrolman Jackson relayed the incident of the two stolen vehicles and their descriptions back to police headquarters. In a matter of minutes, the police dispatcher keyed her mike and announced to all patrol cars in the Dallas metropolitan area:

  “Attention all units, attention all units – BOLO for two vehicles stolen from Police Impoundment, one 1956 White over Blue two-door Bel-Air Chevrolet, Texas license CRT-045, expired March 1963 and one black 1949 four door Ford Mainline sedan, Texas license BRY-356, expired July 1962, direction of travel unknown at this time. Be On Look Out, if spotted approach with care occupants may be armed and dangerous.”

  As Patrolman Jackson and Lambert were driving away from the impoundment office, Lambert turned and asked Jackson, “Tom, what was it you wanted to see on the Texas School Book buildin’ anyway?”

  Glancing up to the roof of the School Book building Patrolman Jackson not seeing anything unusual replied, “Aw, nothing, just thought I saw somethin’ up there this mornin’ but I must’ve been seein’ things. There’s nothing up there. Come on let’s get back on patrol and look for them two stolen cars.”

  Taking a right on Houston the patrol car headed back into downtown Dallas towards Dealy Plaza. Little did the two police officers realize if they had, by chance, turned left instead of making a right turn, in a couple of blocks they would have discovered both of their stolen vehicles parked side by side in the Lone Star supermarket’s parking lot. The ‘possibly armed and dangerous’ thieves would have been leaning against the hood and front fenders of the Chevy talking strategy about their next move. So it is with chance, fate or just pure ole dumb luck.

  LONE STAR PARKING LOT

  Standing next to the open driver’s door of the ‘borrowed’ blue and white ’56 Chevy Rocky heard the Dallas police dispatcher broadcast the BOLO for their two stolen cars. “Guys! Guys! Did you all hear that?”

  Turning from their conversation Lou responded to Rocky’s question with a question of his own, “What Rocky? What did you hear?”

  Rocky related the All Points Bulletin he had just heard on the police scanner. He told them the police had just been given a Be On the Look Out order, which gave an exact description of their two cars, right down to the license plate numbers.

  “Okay,” said Lonnie Joe, “now we know what we must do – we’ve got to ditch these two cars and find two more. We will need to get them from the same impoundment place.” He proceeded to tell the others he had noticed there had been a number of older municipal cars parked at the end of the second row of vehicles. He indicated they were probably being replaced by newer models and suggested they return to the impoundment lot, replace the ’56 Chevy and the ’49 Ford, and ‘borrow’ a couple of the Dallas city vehicles. His reasoning: the municipal cars would not be missed since they all looked alike. He suggested Bud go to the impoundment lot supervisor’s office and engage the two employees in conversation. He could pretend to be investigating the two ‘stolen’ vehicles. In the meantime he, Rocky and Lou would ‘appropriate’ two ‘new’ vehicles.

  Not much of a plan, he admitted, but it was a plan. Right now they had to get these two cars off the supermarket parking lot and out of sight. It was just a matter of time before a police cruiser came by and recognized them from the BOLO.

  Forty-five minutes later they were back parked in the same spot in the Lone Star supermarket parking lot sporting different vehicles.

  They had quickly driven back to the impound lot, parked the Chevy and Ford in their old spaces. Some of the city cars had only been parked in the lot a few weeks, so it was rather easy to find two in decent shape and suitable to their needs. It was also exceptionally neighborly of the storage personnel to leave the keys in the ignition making their ‘borrowing’ quite easy. It was so effortless; in fact, they shopped down the row looking for two cars with gas gages registering more than a half tank of gas. The municipal vehicles were not much to look at. Both cars selected were cheap 1954, black, four-door, Ford Mainlines, equipped with factory supplied, two hundred thirty-nine cubic inch engines, one hundred-thirty horsepower, flathead V-8s. This was the hottest engine in 1954 low-priced Ford autos. For a motley crew of 2012 car thieves plying their trade in 1963, these two cars were perfect.

  THE CAROUSEL CLUB

  “Everyone set? LJ you and Rocky, get over to Jack Ruby’s place and put the ‘bug’ on our Mafia friends. Lou and I will head over to Lee Harvey Oswald rooming house and see if we can rent a room. Just remember, be at the cow pasture no later than 11:55 Saturday. Pegasus is going to leave with or without us. One more thing – make sure your cellphones are set for ‘Vibrate’, you can only talk to each other as long as you are within five miles of the Texas School Book Depository. Good luck to us all!” The four formed a circle and each extended his arm and grasped the others hand. “On three - one - two - three - SCAR!!” They all hollered at the same time, reminiscent of their days on the athletic field.

  Back into their car Lou was behind the steering wheel, “Okay Bud, which way to Oswald’s rooming house?”

  “Pull back out onto Houston and turn left. We have to drive down to North Berkley Avenue; it’s only about two miles. At Berkley, we will hang a left. The rooming house will be at 1026, which will be just around the corner on our left.”

  “Okay,” said Bud, “we’re off!”

  In the other black Ford sedan, a similar conversation was taking place; however, their destination was Jack Ruby’s club on the corner of Field and Commerce Street. “Rocky, follow Bud and Lou until we come to Commerce. Turn left, and we should see Ruby’s Carousel Club in four or five blocks. It will be on our right. A parking garage is just past the entrance to the club, pull in there, and we will go inside Ruby’s place with our surveillance equipment.”

  The two crews parted and headed their own separate ways.

  Arriving at the parking garage next to Ruby’s club Lonnie Joe and Rocky removed their bugging devices from their equipment bag and slipped the small devices into their jacket pockets. Up the long staircase, both of them trudged until they, as Captain Scarburg had done earlier, stood gazing into the semidarkness of a Texas ‘honky-tonk’. The Wurlitzer over in the corner wailed out Ernest Tubb’s ‘I’m Walkin’ the Floor Over You’. The room, as usual, was dark. The blue glow from the neon Lone Star beer sign over the bar provided enough light to see, but the two could tell there was not many customers sitting either at the bar or the tables. The hour of the day might have had something do with lack of patrons - it was 10:38 a.m.

  Lonnie Joe and Rocky slipped quickly across the dance floor and saddled up to a couple of stools at the bar. The barkeep sporting a white t-shirt with both sleeves rolled up, a cigarette stuck over one ear, and a toothpick protruded from the side of his mouth slowly polished a shot glass with a towel. Without looking up, he matter-of-factly asked, “What’ll be your pleasure gents?”

  “How ‘bout a couple of burgers and a couple of Bud Lites, Leroy”, Lonnie Joe ordered as he searched for the back room.

  “What? You tryin’ to be funny mister? Bud Lights? Ain’t never heard of it. We got Schlitz, Lone Star and Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap, that’s all we got. Take it or leave it.”

  “Yeah... right,” forgetting, for the moment, they were in 1963 and Budweiser Lites would not be introduced until 1982 responded, “Sorry, give us the Schlitz.”

  “How’d you know my name?”

 
; “Oh, we’ve been in a couple of times, I guess you didn’t notice us,” said Rocky.

  “Must not’ve,” said Leroy, “but I never forget a face.” As he continued polishing the shot glass he was holding he looked over its top and sized up Lonnie Joe and Leroy, “That’s funny, I don’t seem to remember you two.”

  Trying to change the direction in which the conversation was heading Rocky replied, “Well, it was night and not much light in here, I can see why. Say, Leroy, me and my business partner need to talk over some private business,” Rocky said giving Leroy a wink, and at the same time sliding him a five spot across the bar, “care if we use the back room to eat?”

  “Nah, that’s okay,” he said, quickly slipping the Abe Lincoln into his pocket, “the boss won’t be here for another hour or so, and there ain’t nobody back there now no how.”

  Once the waitress had delivered the burgers and drinks to the back room they waited for her to exit through the swinging doors. Lonnie Joe hurriedly unscrewed the light bulb over the table. Rocky already had the replacement bulb in his hand. Within seconds, Rocky had it screwed in and working. Now for the picture hanger, “I’ll keep Leroy busy LJ,” said Rocky, “you replace the hanger with the miniature camera.”

  Pushing through the swinging doors, Rocky walked up to the bar, “Leroy, you got any hot Tabasco sauce... I like my burgers hot enough to scorch my guzzle.”

  Leroy removed a bottle of the Louisiana Hot Tabasco Sauce from the other end of the bar and slid it down the slick bar top. “Thanks,” Rocky said, reaching out and grabbing the bottle as it slid by, “this’ll hit the spot.” With sauce bottle in hand, he returned to the back room. Passing the swinging doors, he could see LJ was back sitting at the table eating his burger. “Everything okay?” Rocky asked.

  “Fine, sit down and eat your hamburger. They’re not bad. We are ‘locked and loaded’, ready for the show.”

  “Great... you say the ‘burgers are good? You know, I am hungry, so I don’t mind if I do.” Taking a bite from his burger Rocky remarked, “Hmmm, never ate a fifty year old hamburger.”

  1026 NORTH BECKLEY AVENUE

  Turning south on Houston Street, Bud and Lou, traveled the two miles to North Beckley Avenue in a matter of minutes. “Bud, I see the sign for North Beckley, turn left right up here.” Swinging from Houston onto their designated street, “The boarding house should be right up here on our left. The address is 1026. I see it Bud, it’s right there... the white frame house.”

  Bud indicated he saw the house, drove a few hundred feet past it down the street, made a U-turn and parked at the curb in front of the rooming house.

  Walking up the sidewalk towards the dwelling, they could see Lee Harvey Oswald’s rooming house was an old white, wood sided, 1940’s style house with a large front porch. Ascending the concrete steps, and across the porch, Lou clenched his fist, opened the screen door, and rapped his knuckles on the front door.

  There was no answer. “Try again,” said Bud.

  After the second knock, the door opened slightly. A large, grey-haired woman wearing a white apron asked, “Yes, may I help you?”

  Bud, talking through the screen door inquired whether she might have a couple of rooms for rent. He explained that his name was Bud Scarburg, and Lou was his brother. The woman said she was the housekeeper, Mrs. Earlene Rodgers, but she would need to call the owner to see if any rooms were available.

  On her return, the brothers were told only one room was for rent but Mrs. Johnson the owner, said they could rent it since they were brothers; however, she would have to charge them full price for one, and half price for the other.

  “How much would the price be?”

  “Now let’s see... it’s twelve dollars per week for one of you and then half for the other that would be four dollars - now eight plus four that would be —”

  “Twelve dollars,” replied Lou without waiting for her to answer.

  “That is correct. Twelve dollars and you get refrigerator and living room privileges. But there’ll be no drinking tolerated. Mrs. Johnson will toss your belongings on the porch if she thinks you have been drinking in her house.”

  The brothers nodded their heads in agreement, and Mrs. Rodgers opened the door.

  As the three walked down the hallway to their room, Bud discretely fishing for information on Lee Harvey Oswald asked, “What about your other roomers? Me and my brother like peace and quiet. We don’t like rowdy neighbors. You don’t have nobody that gets disorderly do you?”

  Mrs. Rodgers shook her head adamantly, “No siree, Mrs. Johnson don’t allow nothing like that.” She further explained only one other boarder was on this floor, and his room was down the hall, but she assured them that he was an exceptionally quiet person. Mrs. Rodgers went on to tell them the other roomer worked at the School Book building downtown. “Seems like a nice fellow, keeps to hisself.”

  “What’s his name...? Just in case we happen to run into him.”

  “You know, I really don’t know, he’s only been here about a month. He checked in the middle of last month and signed in as “O. H. Lee.” Now I don’t know what the “O” or “H” stands for like I said he keeps to hisself. I just call him Mr. Lee.”

  After opening the door and showing them their room, Mrs. Rodgers returned to her housekeeping duties. Lou surveyed the bleak surroundings as Bud walked over and sat down on the iron framed, twin bed. The mattress was so thin you could read a newspaper through it. The only furnishings in the room were the nightstand beside the bed, which supported a single, sixty-watt shade lamp, and a four-drawer dresser positioned against the far wall. The room, Bud guessed, was about twelve feet wide by sixteen feet long. “Well there is one good thing Lou —”

  Before he could finish Lou retorted as he surveyed the bleak room, “There’s something good? Please tell, let me in on it Bud.”

  “The good thing is we’re only going to be here one night, but regardless, we still have to have a plan. Here’s how I see it Lou. You go back down to the living room and engage Mrs. Rodgers in conversation while I slip into Mr. “O. H. Lee’s” room and check it out. I’m sure Mrs. Rodgers does not keep the rooms locked. Huh, O. H. Lee? Now O. H. Lee has to be Lee Harvey Oswald written backwards. I always thought, he wasn’t too bright, but now I know he wasn’t too innovative either. O. H. Lee, give me a break.”

  “What will I talk about Bud? I don’t know anything to talk to a person about in 1963. Heck, I wasn’t even born in 1963.”

  “I don’t know Lou,” thinking for a second Bud answered, “I know...talk about the weather... sports... no, forget sports... I know talk about the President coming tomorrow. Surely she knows about his visit... throw in that we work for the Dallas Street Department, and our jobs will be to block off the parade route. That will get her attention. Just keep her occupied while I search his room.”

  Down the hall, Lou ventured, looking for Mrs. Rodgers. Bud following closely behind hesitated at the door of Mr. O. H. Lee’s room. Turning the corner from the hall into the living room Lou found Mrs. Rodgers dusting a bookshelf, and began engaging her with his banter about the President coming to town. Bud could hear the faint conversation between the two of them. He could not understand what they were saying, but, needless to say, he only wanted Lou to keep her busy. The topic of the conversation was not important.

  Standing motionless in the hall for a moment, Bud stole a glance to his left and then to his right toward the living room. He had to make sure Mrs. Rodgers wasn’t looking his way. I sure hope we have this figured right, he thought, when I crack open this door there could be someone named Oscar Henry Lee lying right smack in the middle of the bed with a .45 pistol in his hand. Texans seem to be proud of their firearms and are prone to use them, especially on someone breaking into their room!!”

  He grasped the brass doorknob and turned it slightly, he was right, the door was not locked. He pushed it open just a couple of inches to see if anyone inside objected. No one did. He opened the
door wide enough to slip inside. The room was furnished almost exactly as his room with the exception this room was smaller. The same type twin, iron bed frame, nightstand, lamp and dresser occupied Mr. O. H. Lee’s room. The dresser, Lou thought, pulling out one drawer then the next... Darn, nothing but clothes... what about under the mattress? Darn again... there’s nothing here. Wait, he heard something – voices! Bud and Mrs. Rodger’s conversation were getting closer! They are coming down the hall. Quickly he moved to the door and pressed his ear against the wood in order to hear a little better. Yes, the voices were moving closer toward the door he was cowering behind... what was he going to do? What if Mrs. Rogers opens the door to Mr. Lee’s room? A plan! A plan, he thought. I’m caught – I only had a Plan A, and this is it. Bud and Mrs. Rodgers were approaching, she would turn the handle any second now... he watched his side of the doorknob intently for any hint of movement. Sweat was beginning to form on his brow. What!! What was he hearing – the sounds of the footsteps are... are... decreasing, they are walking by. She is not coming into the room. Lou had asked about the refrigerator, and Mrs. Rodgers was showing him the kitchen. Bud silently opened Mr. “O. H. Lee’s” door and quickly slipped, unnoticed back down the hallway to his own room.

  Returning from his impromptu talk with Mrs. Rodgers, and the visit to the kitchen, Bud opened the door to his and Lou’s room, “Lou, you should have talked with her. All I did was stutter and stammer. I bet she thought I was a complete idiot. I couldn’t even keep her busy long enough for you to search the room.”

  “Well,” Lou said grinning, “she got the idiot part right, but forget about it. I did have time to search Oswald’s room. Bud there was no gun. The room is nothing but a matchbox; there is nowhere to hide anything. Two mosquitoes would bump into each other in there. He had a few clothes in the dresser and an extra pair of shoes under the bed, that was it - nothing else.”

  “Wait a minute Bud, everything we have read said Oswald returned to his rooming house after shooting President Kennedy to get his jacket and his pistol. Isn’t this right?”

  “That is half right – he may have gotten his jacket, but he never got a gun. There is not a gun in his room.”

  “Okay, Bud what is our plan for tomorrow?”

  “I believe it has been well established Lee Harvey Oswald fired from the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository. Grandpa proved he heard the shot. We need to go into Dallas in the morning, park off Dealy Plaza and stand close to the entrance of the School Book building and follow Oswald when he comes out. We especially want to see what he does once he gets back here to his room in this rooming house.”

  “How can we do it Bud?”

  “We know from all accounts Oswald left the School Book building walking. After a couple of blocks, he got on a bus. It went a few blocks and got stuck in the Presidential parade traffic. Oswald got off the bus, and hailed a taxi that let him off a block or two from this rooming house. With all that’s going on we should be quite able to return to our car, drive the couple of miles or so and be here before Lee Harvey Oswald gets back. Then we can follow him and see if he meets anyone.”

  “Good idea Lou, but let me throw this at you. What if we don’t come back here to the rooming house, but goes instead to the vicinity of 10th Street and Patton Avenue. That is where Oswald was reported to have killed J. D. Tippit, the Dallas police officer. It is only about three quarters of a mile from here.”

  “Good Bud, a fine idea, a lot better than mine. We will pick a spot around 10th and Patton and watch what happens. We did bring our camera with the telephoto lens didn’t we?”

  “You betcha, Lou, I’ll get us some fine photos. You just get us close to the action.”