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When They Kill a President, by Roger Craig PART 3

III


The industrial and military complex can't survive
Without their little horror wars they artfully contrive.
If they push us to the big one then we won't come out alive
His dream goes marching on.


Things were fairly normal for me for the next few months, with
the exception of curious persons who popped into the Sheriff's
Office from time to time to ask me questions about the
assassination.
On the first anniversary of the assassination a team of newsmen
from NBC New York came to Dallas. They wanted to do a documentary
on the assassination and they contacted Jim Kerr of the "Dallas
Times Herald," who told them of me.
Jim approached me and said that the NBC people were interested
in what I had to say and would I talk to them? Jim Kerr indicated
to me that he had it all set up. However, because I knew how Bill
Decker felt about anyone in his Department talking about this
particular event, I told him I would have to get Decker's
permission. NBC had been calling me since October 1964 asking to
talk to me but I would not commit myself.
When they arrived during the week of November 22, I went to
Decker to ask permission to do the story. Decker promptly sat me
down in the private office, closed the door and sat there looking
at me for several minutes. It was difficult to tell if Decker was
looking at you--with that glass eye of his--but at the same time
you had the uneasy feeling that he was looking straight through
you. Decker began to talk with that even, never-rising voice which
commanded attention and gave you the feeling that it was dangerous
to interrupt or even question him.
Decker told me to tell these people (Jim Kerr and NBC) that I
was a Deputy Sheriff--not an actor--and for me to keep my mouth
shut. He then went on to say, "Tell them you didn't see or hear
anything." He then went back to the papers on his desk and I knew
he was through--and so was I. I relayed the message to Jim Kerr,
who was very disappointed--and even mad, but he, like me, knew that
he must not challenge Decker's law.
From that day forward Bill Decker began to watch my every move.
People in the office who, before this, very seldom spoke to me,
began to hang around watching my every move and listening to
everything I said. Among these were Rosemary Allen, E. R. (Buddy)
Walthers, Allen Sweatt and Bob Morgan--Decker's four top stoolies.
Combine the foregoing with the run-in I had with Dave Belin,
junior counsel for the Warren Commission, who questioned me in
April of 1964, and who changed my testimony fourteen times when he
sent it to Washington, and you will have some idea of the pressures
brought to bear.
David Belin told me who he was as I entered the interrogation
room (April 1964). He had me sit at the head of a long table. To
my left was a female with a pencil and pen. Belin sat to my right.
Between the girl and Belin was a tape recorder, which was turned
off. Belin instructed the girl not to take notes until he (Belin)
said to do so. He then told me that the investigation was being
conducted to determine the truth as the evidence indicates. Well,
I could take that several ways but I said nothing. Then Belin
said, "For instance, I will ask you where you were at a certain
time. This will establish your physical location." It was at this
point that I began to feel that I was being led into something but
still I said nothing. Then Belin said, "I will ask you about what
you *thought* you heard or saw in regard." Well, this was too
much. I interrupted him and said, "Counselor, just ask me the
questions and if I can answer them, I will." This seemed to
irritate Belin and he told the girl to start taking notes with the
next question.
At this point Belin turned the recorder on. The first questions
were typical. Where were you born? Where did you go to school?
When Belin would get to certain questions he would turn off the
recorder and stop the girl from writing. The he would ask me, for
example, "Did you see anything unusual when you were behind the
picket fence?" I said, "Yes" and he said, "Fine, just a minute."
He would then tell the girl to start writing with the next question
and would again start the recorder. What was the next question?
"Mr. Craig, did you go into the Texas School Book Depository?" It
was clear to me that he wanted only to record part of the
interrogation, as this happened many times.
I finally managed to get in at least most of what I had seen and
heard by ignoring his advanced questions and giving a step-by-step
picture, which further seemed to irritate him.
At the end of our session Belin dismissed me but when I started
to leave the room, he called me back. At this time I identified
the clothing wore by the suspect (the 26 volumes refer to a *box*
of clothing--not *boxes*. There were two boxes.)
After I identified the clothing Belin went over the complete
testimony again. He then asked, "Do you want to follow or waive
your signature or sign now?" Since there was nothing but a tape
recording and a stenographer's note book, there was obviously
nothing to sign. All other testimony which I have read (a
considerable amount) included an explanation that the person could
waive his signature then or his statement would be typed and he
would be notified when it was ready for signature. Belin did not
say this to me.
He said an odd thing when I left. It is the only time that he
said it, and I have never read anything similar in any testimony.
"Be SURE, when you get back to the office, to thank Sheriff Decker
for *his* cooperation." I know of no one else he questioned who he
asked to *thank* a supervisor, chief, etc.
I first saw my testimony in January of 1968 when I looked at the
26 volumes which belonged to Penn Jones. My alleged statement was
included. The following are some of the changes in my testimony:

* Arnold Rowland told me that he saw two men on the
sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository 15
minutes before the President arrived: one was a Negro,
who was pacing back and forth by the *southwest* window.
The other was a white man in the *southeast* corner,
with a rifle equipped with a scope, and that a few
minutes later he looked back and only the white man was
there. In the Warren Commission: *Both* were *white*,
both were *pacing* in front of the *southwest* corner
and when Rowland looked back, *both* were gone;

* I said the Rambler station wagon was *light green*.
The Warren Commission: Changed to a *white* station
wagon;

* I said the driver of the Station Wagon had on a *tan*
jacket. The Warren Commission: A *white* jacket;

* I said the license plates on the Rambler were *not*
the same color as Texas plates. The Warren Commission:
Omitted the *not*--omitted but one word, an important
one, so that it appeared that the license plates *were*
the same color as Texas plates;

* I said that I *got* a *good look* at the driver of the
Rambler. The Warren Commission: I did *not* get a good
look at the Rambler. (In Captain Fritz's office) I had
said that Fritz had said to Oswald, "This man saw you
leave" (indicating me). Oswald said, "I told you people
I did." Fritz then said, "Now take it easy, son, we're
just trying to find out what happened", and then (to
Oswald), "What about the car?" to which Oswald replied,
"That station wagon belongs to Mrs. Paine. Don't try to
drag her into this." Fritz said *car*--station wagon
was not mentioned by anyone but Oswald. (I had told
Fritz over the telephone that I saw a man get into a
station wagon, before I went to the Dallas Police
Department and I had also described the man. This is
when Fritz asked me to come there). Oswald then said,
"Everybody will know who I am now;" the Warren
Commission: Stated that the last statement by Oswald
was made in a dramatic tone. This was not so. The
Warren Commission also printed, "NOW everybody will know
who I am", transposing the *now*. Oswald's tone and
attitude was one of disappointment. If someone were
attempting to conceal his identity as Deputy and he was
found out, exposed--his cover blown, his reaction
would be dismay and disappointment. This was Oswald's
tone and attitude--disappointment at being exposed!


Shortly after the Kerr and Belin incidents, the Sheriff took me
out of the field and assigned me to the Bond Desk. This meant that
I was sitting directly in line with Decker's office door, where he
could watch me. It made me feel a little like a goldfish in a
bowl!
While I was on the Bond Desk I noticed Eva Grant (Jack Ruby's
sister) was making daily visits to Decker's office. During this
time Eva and I came to be on good terms. It was convenient for her
to speak to me when she came in because of the position of my
desk--close to the door leading into the Sheriff's Department. As
time went on Eva Grant would stop me in the hall every time I went
for a cup of coffee or took a break. Decker became very concerned
over this and it was not long before I realized that ever time Eva
and I talked we were joined by someone. In addition to this, Buddy
Walthers would be standing close by and listening. (This is
another example of his talents as a peace officer--that he would
make himself so conspicuous.) First he would stand and listen, and
then head into Decker's office.
After a few days of this and armed with information from this
so-called detective--who couldn't track an elephant through the
snow with a nose bleed--Decker called me into his office and
pointed to a chair without saying a word. Well, knowing he wasn't
giving me the chair or asking me to look it over, I sat down.
After a long silence he finally said, "What about it?" This was
Decker's way of telling you he knew it (whatever it was) and he
wanted you to "confess". I felt sure Eva Grant was going to be the
subject of conversation but I was determined to make him start the
interrogation--after all he wanted the answers and, apparently,
Buddy had not heard as much as he thought he had.
Finally he gave in and said, "You've been talking to Eva Grant."
I said, "Yes sir." Decker then said, "What about?" I replied,
"She is concerned about Jack's depressed state of mind and worried
about the fact that he looks ill." Decker said, "That's none of
your business." I replied with the only thing that Decker would
accept--I said, "No sir." Apparently sure that he had convinced me
once again that there was no law except Decker's law, he pointed to
the door and I left. He was a man of few words!
The next day Eva and I had another talk. She was getting more
and more concerned about Jack's health. She had been to see Decker
several times trying to secure medical help for her brother. By
this time the rumor was all through the Sheriff's office that Jack
was, indeed, ill. Most of this information came from the deputies
assigned to guard him. The deputies were Walter Neighbors, James
R. Keene, Jess Stevenson, Jr., and others. Finally Decker
permitted a doctor to see Jack, a psychiatrist, who said Jack Ruby
had a cold!
A few weeks passed, during which time I received same telephone
calls concerning the assassination and my testimony. These calls
came from various people from different parts of the country who
were, apparently, just interested. These calls somehow were
reported to Bill Decker. Not having a reason to fire me, he did
the next best thing, he had a monitoring unit connected to the
telephone system so that he could periodically check any telephone
calls.
I will not go into the events leading to Jack Ruby's death.
Much has already been written about this but I would like to say
that Jack Ruby made several statements to guards, jail supervisors
and assistant D.A.'s in which he said "they are going to kill me."
These statements became a private joke among these people and they
discussed them freely in the hall of the court house. When the
Sheriff from Wichita Falls, Texas came to observe the prisoner he
was about to take charge of, due to Ruby's change of venue, he
refused to accept the prisoner on the grounds that Ruby was very
ill. Then, and only then, did Decker send Ruby to Parkland
Hospital where he died a few short days later (some cold!).
I was not too concerned about the minor attention I was
receiving from Decker regarding the assassination and its aftermath
until August 7, 1966. At 2:30 a.m, I was approached by Hardy M.
Parkerson, an attorney from New Orleans, La. Mr. Parkerson was
interested in the assassination and the Jack Ruby trial. I was
working late nights on the Bond Desk when he came to the Sheriff's
office. He asked me several questions relating to these tragic
events and I answered him as honestly as I could and he thanked me
and left.
However, on October 1, 1966 Mr. Parkerson wrote to me advising
me that I was receiving more publicity than I might be aware of.
He mentioned in his letter that he had picked up a book on a New
Orleans newsstand. The book was entitled, "The Second Oswald" by
Richard H. Popkin and my report had been mentioned in the book.
This disturbed me as I knew my popularity with Decker was fading
anyway.
On October 18 I received another letter from Mr. Parkerson. It
seemed that he had come across another book on a New Orleans
newsstand which mentioned my name. This one was "Inquest" by
Edward J. Epstein. Then I began to worry a bit. Of course other
names were mentioned also in these books but I was concerned
because of my employer's attitude and the fact that I was in
definite conflict with the Warren Commission in my testimony.
In February of 1967 the lid blew off. District Attorney Jim
Garrison announced publicly his probe into the John F. Kennedy
Assassination. It wasn't long--in fact, a matter of hours--until
Decker walked up to me and asked, "Have you been talking to Jim
Garrison?" I told him that I had not, which was the truth. Decker
then said, "Somebody sure as hell has." That was the beginning of
the end of my career as a law officer and my future in Dallas
County.
As more and more books critical of the Warren Commission began
to hit the newsstands throughout the country and I received calls
and visitors asking questions my future with the Sheriff's Office
became VERY SHAKY. Finally, on July 4, 1967 Bill Decker called me
into his office and told me to check out. Knowing there was no
grievance board and that Decker was the supreme ruler of his
domain, I left the Sheriff's Office for good.
I was saddened by the loss of eight years in a job that I had
given my ALL to. But I was soon to find out that this was only the
down payment on the price that I was to pay for the truth! I
immediately began looking for work and found that the Commerce Bail
Bond Company was just opening an office and needed someone to help
in the office as Les Hancock, the owner, was just starting out.
Mr. Hancock and I had a long talk and he agreed that I would be
an asset to the business because he knew nothing about it and I was
familiar with bonds and most of the people at the Sheriff's Office
as well as those wishing to make bond. Les and I seemed to get
along very well. I posted most of the bonds and kept track of our
clients. Posting the first few bonds with the county went slowly
--although the money was in escrow, Decker wanted to personally
approve *all* bonds posted by me. I did not mind this delaying
tactic because all it involved was a little extra time for me. The
bonding business was going very well--within two months we were
making money.
I kept up as much as possible on Jim Garrison's probe and
decided to write him and tell him what I knew--if it would help
him. Jim Garrison answered my letter and asked me to call him, at
which time he made arrangements for my trip to New Orleans.
Les Hancock tried to persuade me not to go, saying I shouldn't
get involved (a little late). I arrived in New Orleans in late
October and was picked up at the airport by Bill Boxley, one of
Jim's investigators, and four men who *didn't* work for Jim.
Boxley took me to a motel where I was to meet Jim and the other
four men followed--apparently, they were not invited. Most of my
talks with Jim were at his office while my "tails" (apparently
government agents) searched my room. I must apologize to them for
not bringing what they could "use."
I had several meetings with Jim Garrison. He showed me numerous
pictures taken in Dealey Plaza on November 22, 1963. Among them
was a picture of a Latin male. I recognized him as being the same
man I had seen driving the Rambler station wagon in which I had
seen Oswald leave the Book Depository area. I was surprised and I
asked Jim who the man was. Jim did not know but he did say this
man was arrested in Dealey Plaza immediately after the
assassination but was released by Dallas Police because he could
not speak English! This was, to me, highly unusual. In my
experience as a police officer I had never known of a person (or
prisoner) being released because of a language barrier.
Interpreters were, of course, always available.
We also discussed the 45 caliber slug found on the south side of
Elm Street, in the grass, by E. R. (Buddy) Walthers. Buddy had
indeed found such a slug. He and I discussed it the evening of
November 22, 1963. Buddy also gave a statement to the Dallas Press
confirming this find (found among bits of brain matter). However,
he later denied finding it--after Decker had a long talk with him
and subsequent to newsmen questioning the Sheriff about the
evidence.
Jim Garrison also had a picture of an unidentified man picking
up this 45 slug and Buddy is also in that photograph. I asked
Buddy about this many times--after his denial--but he never made
any comment.
Jim also asked me about the arrests made in Dealey Plaza that
day. I told him I knew of twelve arrests, one in particular made
by R. E. Vaughn of the Dallas Police Department. The man Vaughn
arrested was coming from the Dal-Tex Building across from the Texas
School Book Depository. The only thing which Vaughn knew about him
was that he was an independent oil operator from Houston, Texas.
The prisoner was taken from Vaughn by Dallas Police detectives and
that was the last that he saw or heard of the suspect.
Incidentally, there are no records of any arrests, either by the
Dallas Police Department or the Sheriff's Office, made in Dealey
Plaza on November 22, 1963. Very strange! *Any* and *all* arrests
made during my eight years as an officer were recorded. It may not
have been entered as a record with the Identification Bureau but a
report was always typed and a permanent record kept--if only in our
case files. A report on any questioning shows a reason for your
action and protects you against false arrest. I am saying that
there is *absolutely* no record in the case files or any place
else.
Upon returning to Dallas from my first contact with Jim
Garrison, I was picked up by another "tail". I was followed
constantly after that. My wife could not even go to the grocery
store without being followed. Sometimes they would go so far as to
pull up next to her and make sure she saw them talking on their
two-way radios. They would also park across from my house and sit
for hours making sure I knew they were there.
On the morning of November 1, 1967 I received a call from a
friend of mine. He owned a night club at Carroll and Columbia
Streets in Dallas. Bill said that he wanted to see me and would I
meet him in front of the club. Bill had called me many times when
I was a deputy as he was frequently in financial trouble and I
would have the citation issued for him held up until he was in a
position to accept them. Some people in Dallas did receive Special
Treatment in the matter of citations. Bill was not one of these
but I did this for him because I knew that by holding it up a day
or so I could save his credit rating--and the creditor would be
paid without having a Judgment entered. We were friends and it was
a natural--and practical thing to do.
When Bill called me on November 1 he said he wanted to talk to
me about money he owed the Bonding Company where I worked--for
getting one of his employees out of jail on traffic tickets. He
had asked that I meet him at 9:00 a.m. At about 8:30 a.m. "me and
my shadows" started for the club, arriving at approximately 9:00
a.m.
When I parked in front of Bill's club "my shadows" began one of
the sweetest set-ups I had ever seen. One car, a tan Pontiac,
parked one block in front of my car, racing me, and the other, a
white Chevrolet with a small antenna protruding from the roof, kept
circling the block again and again, never stopping. There were two
men in the Chevrolet. I couldn't get a good look at the driver but
the other man was in his early thirties. He had dark hair, was
nice looking and wore a black-and-white checked sport coat.
Bill had never been late before for an appointment with me but
he was this time. When it was nearing 10:15 I began to worry that
those poor bastards would get dizzy from driving around and around
--and might hit someone.
Finally, at 10:15 a.m. Bill arrived and we went to the Waffle
House across the street for coffee. There, as big as life, sitting
on a stool was the man in the sport jacket--from the white
Chevrolet. Well . . . we sat down and had coffee. We talked
about how each of us was doing--just shot the bull--and Bill never
did bring up the subject which he had said he wanted to discuss
with me!

When we finished we started to leave and the man in the sport coat
jumped up and beat us out of the door. We paid our checks and
walked out the door and my shadow was nowhere in sight--believe
me, I looked. We crossed the parking lot and stopped at the
traffic light, as it was red against us. For some reason I stepped
down off the curb before the light changed. As I did, Bill fell
flat on the sidewalk. I was about to find out why. At that very
instant a shot rang out behind me and the hair just above my left
ear parted. I felt a pressure and sharp pain on the left side of
my head. I bolted for my car leaving Bill lying on the ground. I
heard him say, "You son of a bitch" and I jumped into my car and
drove home as fast as possible. When I arrived home I told my wife
what this good friend had done for me. I pondered the idea of
moving my family to some safe place.
A curious note: my friend (?) Bill was deeply in debt and about
to lose his business at the time of the shooting. However, about a
month later he was completely out of debt, his business was doing
great and he had invested in two other businesses which were doing
very well. (Payment was, apparently, not withheld just because the
trigger man missed.) I decided to get in touch with Jim Garrison.
I tried all day and finally reached him around ten that evening.
After I told him what had happened he said someone would be at my
home within the hour.
At approximately 11 p.m. someone knocked on the door and I
opened it with my left hand, holding my 45 automatic in my right
hand. Standing there was a small but well-built man in his late
forties or early fifties. He said, "My name is Penn Jones. Jim
Garrison called me." My hand tightened on the 45 when my wife,
Molly, took hold of me and said, "I've seen him on T.V. *He is*
Penn Jones." With that I relaxed and he remained Penn Jones!
Penn Jones listened to my story and then began making telephone
calls to newsmen and wire services that he had contact with,
explaining to me that the best protection for me was open coverage
on the incident. After a long talk with Penn Jones I found that I
had a great deal of respect and admiration for this man. Although
small in stature, I felt he would fight the devil himself to find
the truth about the assassination.
The next day, November 2, 1967, when I went to work at Commerce
Bail Bonds I was approached by two reporters and a photographer
from Channel 8 in Dallas. They had picked the story up on the news
wire and wanted a personal interview. After the interview my boss,
Les Hancock, called me into his office and told me he didn't think
that I should have done the interview (giving no specific reason).
The next few days Les' attitude was very cold and he would barely
speak to me. Then, on the 7th of November he called me into his
office once again. This time he told me the business wasn't doing
well and he would have to let me go because he was closing the
office. Of course, I knew better than this--after all I had access
to all the records and I knew the business was making money. A few
days later I found out Les merely moved to another location and
his business continued as usual.
However, this knowledge did not help me for I was back pounding
the pavement looking for work. In the meantime I had been in
contact with Jim Garrison. He informed me that there was an
opening at Volkswagon International in New Orleans and that I might
try there. By this time my health had begun to be affected. I had
undergone a serious stomach operation in August of 1963 and I
suffer from chronic bronchitis and emphysema (not to mention Dallas
County Battle Fatigue).
My family and I made the trip to New Orleans, where I was
interviewed by Willard Robertson, the owner of the company. Mr.
Robertson told me he was looking for a Personnel Manager and
because of my background of dealing with the public he hired me.
After a long trip back to Dallas where we gathered up our meager
belongings we moved to New Orleans and I felt good--I was working
again!
We had been there but a few days when all of our neighbors and
half the people where I was working knew who I was. This was due
to the newspaper and television coverage of Jim Garrison's probe
into the assassination. Again came the never-ending questions,
which I did not mind because outside of Dallas people were
sincerely interested and I certainly did not mind doing what I
could to clear up any doubts they had. The people at the office
treated me very well.
Unfortunately, after about a month I realized that I was not
doing anything but going in to the office and coming home--nothing
in between. Although I appreciated Jim Garrison recommending me
for the job, I knew by this time that he had done this because he
was concerned about my safety and wanted me out of Dallas. Because
this company did not really need a Personnel Manager and I couldn't
take the money for a job I was not doing, I submitted my
resignation to Mr. Robertson and my family and I returned to Dallas.
We arrived back in Dallas on a cold and snowy seventh of
January, 1968, and moved in with Molly's parents as we had very
little money and nowhere to stay. The next few days I spent
looking for work. I tried every ad and every lead I could find.
The people who interviewed me always seemed interested but like all
companies, they wanted to check out my references. When I failed
to receive any results from my efforts, I called some of the places
where I had placed applications to see what was wrong. I always
received the same answer, "the position had been filled." Finally,
I decided something was WRONG and I suspected one employment
reference, Bill Decker. I had a friend write Decker asking for an
employment reference--he never received an answer!
My next move was to have someone call Decker and ask for a
reference and this took some doing. Writing him was one thing but
talking to him on the telephone was another. He would bait you on
the telephone and, before you knew it, he knew who you were and
whether you were legitimate or not.
Many people in Dallas liked Decker for the favors he could do
for them but those who did not like him were afraid of the
tremendous power he possessed in Dallas County. They were afraid
to oppose him in any issue for fear that this man could, indeed,
affect their professional careers. A good example is the charge,
"Hold for Decker." This meant that when Decker wanted to talk to
you or some friend of his disagreed with an arrest (without
warrant), you were detained in the county jail until Decker wished
to talk or release you. NO attorney in Dallas County would dare
apply for a writ of habeas corpus to secure your release.
Well, to get back to my "minor" problem, I finally found
someone to call Decker for a reference and when he did Decker
informed him that, "Mr. Craig had worked for me and I would not
re-hire him and that is all I've got to say about Mr. Craig." So .
. . I had worked for the Sheriff for eight years and yet, without a
reference, it was as though those years had never existed. How do
you explain this kind of situation to a prospective employer?
After many more exhaustive interviews, I found a company, on
February 1, 1968, which had just opened a branch office in Dallas
and was in BAD need of security guards to work in department stores
where they had new contracts. When I applied for the job I told
them of my background in law enforcement, leaving out the details
of my separation with the Sheriff's Office. I only showed them the
watch I was wearing, which is inscribed: Roger D. Craig, First
Place, Sheriff's Department 1960. (The award was for Officer of
the Year). They were impressed and with a sigh of relief I was
hired without the customary background check.
My first assignment was a department store in East Dallas, where
I held the very important position of keeping the shopping baskets
out of the aisles. (Don't knock it--I was working 12 hours a day
and making a whopping $1.60 per hour).
By this time my creditors were knocking on my door day and
night. All of the furniture we had, which was not much, we lost
and then "along came Jones."
I had contacted Penn when I arrived back in Dallas and after I
lost the car he let me use his 1955 Ford, which he wasn't driving,
and I was back in business!
Because of the crowded quarters at Molly's parents, we began to
search for an apartment. We found many and were turned down every
time. Some people said they did not want to rent to families with
children. Others would accept us and then when we were ready to
move in, they would say it was already rented and they had
"forgotten." Finally, in mid-February we found a couple on Tremont
Street, who were not afraid to rent to us. Oh, they knew who I was
but they said it did not matter--they had kept up on the
assassination.
Our only outlet for our tensions were the Sunday trips we made
to the Penn Jones home in Midlothian, Texas. During these visits I
would try to bring Penn up to date on the latest from the Dallas
Police Department and Sheriff's Office. I was able to give him
some help from time to time because I could keep in touch with
these offices through officers there who were still friendly toward
me. It was fun and relaxing to get together with Penn and his wife
L.A., who is a delightful person with a great sense of humor. The
two of them made you feel as though the whole world was right
there.
On one of these visits Penn told me he was going to appear on
the Joe Pyne show in Los Angeles and asked if I would go with him.
Needless to say, I owed Penn Jones much over the previous months
and if I would be an asset, I was certainly prepared to go, I told
him. I got a leave of absence from my employer, Penn made the
arrangements and we were off to Los Angeles.
The Los Angeles trip was a success as far as I was concerned,
especially when we spoke to the young people at U.C.L.A. They were
very concerned about the assassination and were kind to Penn and
me. The only disappointment came in the form of Otto Preminger,
who was sitting in for Joe Pyne that night. I think his statement
to the audience speaks for itself. He said that he believed
whole-heartedly in the Warren Report and when I asked him if he had
read the Warren Report, he said "no"! After a week of appearances
on television and radio my lungs were beginning to give me trouble
and I returned to Dallas with Mrs. Jones, while Penn went on to San
Francisco.


...PART 1
...PART 2

...PART 3
...PART 4
...PART 5

 

 

 

 

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