of the rounds missed their mark and they came from the shooter in the Texas Book Depository, which meant that he was in the worst position or not the best marksman.”
“Was that you, Lee?”
“No, it was not. I was downstairs eating at the time of the shooting.”
He hesitated, took a drink of water and continued.
“The President didn’t stand a chance, Timothy. It was an ambush. These people knew exactly what they were doing. They were highly trained assassins, the best that money could buy.”
What he meant was that these men had experience with this technique. They knew what they were doing. None of them were amateurs. This was not a hit spurred on by emotions. These men were doing this to get paid, especially the man everyone referred to as the Bulgarian.
“How much was he paid?” I asked.
Oswald merely shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I can only tell you what I heard on the street.” I still wanted to know.
“Twenty-five thousand up front and another twenty-five when the job was done. Of course, out of that, he had to pay his team, and your guess is as good as mine on what they received.”
When I asked where the money came from, he said it came from the Mob, more specifically Carlos Marcello, the Sicilian born Don from New Orleans.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
My own research told me the same thing, that the Mob was furious with both Kennedy’s because of the way the Attorney General continued to harass them, even after they helped to get Jack into the White House. But, I also knew that Mr. Marcello had a hatred for the Kennedy’s because of what Bobby Kennedy did to him personally.
“By deporting him to Honduras?”
“That’s correct. Marcello was so mad about that he bragged in public that he was going to kill both brothers and their entire families, even the kids, one by one. Dozens of people heard him make this boast because he did it in one of the restaurants he frequented in New Orleans.”
I knew that Bobby Kennedy had allowed the power he wielded to go to his head, and that he eventually paid the ultimate price, but the pain he felt when Jack was killed went beyond the pale because in his heart he knew that it was because of him that Jack was dead.
It all began when Carlos Marcello put out a contract on the President of the United States and his younger brother. The first thing he did was direct his associate, David Ferrie, to find the right man for the job. Money was no object. David went off to Europe to find the Bulgarian, and when he came back he told Marcello that they would have to allow for the assassin’s to escape so they could spend their money. He told Marcello how much money was needed and the man told Ferrie that money was no object.
“What was your role, Lee?”
“I was the gopher, Jack’s errand boy and I was taking care of the assassination team. I brought them food and drink on a daily basis. They were living in low rent motels outside the city and Jack wanted them to remain in their rooms and not be seen on the streets while they waited to kill the President. But, the Bulgarian had other ideas. One day, he decided he wanted to go to a shooting range. I knew that Jack would have hit the roof if I let him so I tried talking him out of it, but he was not the type that you gave orders to and I knew that he would not take no for an answer so I reasoned with Jack and told him the man was going to go anyway, so why not accompany him, keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
“So, you went with him?”
“That’s right. I did. It was my idea, so Jack said go ahead, but make sure he stays out of trouble.”
“Uh huh. So, what happened?”
“We both shot. First, I made a fool of myself by putting one bullet in the bullseye and the rest were all over the place. Then, it was his turn. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every shot was in the bullseye and, more than once, his bullets traveled through the same hole. If he had done it just once, I would have thought, well lucky shot, but he did it over and over again. The more he shot the better he got. When I was in the Marines I was around world class shooters, but I never saw anyone shoot like that. And he still wasn’t satisfied.”
“I am rusty,” he told me in his broken English. That’s why he wanted have access get to a range and shake off some of that rust.”
I watched for a moment as Lee went back to his sketching and started thinking about the next question I wanted to ask.
“Let’s go back to the shooters, Lee, if you don’t mind?”
He indicated that he did not. I tried to put my next question into the proper context.
“Where were they firing from?”
“From multiple directions. One from the left, one from the back and one from the front.”
“Go on.”
“Timing was everything. The key was the ‘kill zone.’ The shooters had to hold off until the limousine was perfectly placed. That’s why the limousine slowed to a stop just as the shooters were firing. It was a planned assault, and the co-operation of the man driving the limousine was a must, no matter how much denial there was from the Secret Service. Once there, the President was a dead man.”
Although my next question was stupid, I just had to ask.
“In your opinion, what chance did the President have of getting out of Dealy Plaza alive?”
“Under the circumstances, none.”
“None?”
“You heard me. That’s why I went to the FBI and tried to explain to them what was going to happen and how important it was for them to convince the President to stay away from Dallas.”
“When did that happen?”
“Ten days before. I believe it was on or about the 10th of November.”
“So, why didn’t they do something?”
Lee shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine?” Then, he added, maybe they wanted it to happen!”
I looked down at my notes. He was right. That could have been the answer. Maybe, someone other than the Mob wanted Kennedy out of the way, whether it was Johnson, Hoover, the CIA or all of them together. Too many people didn’t do their job that day. The fix was in, and it had to take a lot of co-operation for it to come off the way it did.
“What about your role in the assassination?”
He took a deep breath. He glanced up at the ceiling. It took a moment for him to answer me.
“Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have one.”
“Do you expect me to believe that, Lee?”
“Believe what you want to
