Killing Kennedy: The End of Camelot Part 30

JFK gets up and makes his way back to the First Family's quarters.

The president taps lightly on the door and pokes his head in. "You all right?" he asks Jackie. They will be landing soon. His wife is slipping into a crisp white dress.

"Fine," the First Lady responds, looking in the mirror to adjust the beret that accessorizes the dress and its black belt.

"I just wanted to be sure," he tells her, closing the door.

The president feels a slight dip as Air Force One begins to descend. He looks out the window. Five miles below and slowly rising up to greet him lies the barren and flat landscape of Texas.

On the ground in Dallas, Lee Harvey Oswald stuffs cardboard s.h.i.+pping boxes with books as he fills orders at the Texas School Book Depository. But today he is easily distracted, and a map of the motorcade route printed on the front page of the Dallas Times Herald's afternoon edition soon catches his attention. Oswald need look no farther than the nearest window to see precisely where President Kennedy's limousine will make a slow right turn from Main Street onto Houston, then an even slower left-hand turn onto Elm, where it will pa.s.s almost directly below the windows of the depository. Getting a good glimpse of the president will be as simple as looking down onto the street below.

But Lee Harvey Oswald is planning to do much more than catch a glimpse. In fact, he is quietly plotting to shoot the president. Just a month ago, mere days before the birth of their second child, Marina noted his fascination with the movies Suddenly and We Were Strangers, both of which deal with the shooting of a government official-in the case of Suddenly, the president of the United States. The couple watched the films together, and Oswald even told Marina that the films felt authentic. She thought that a strange remark.

Oswald does not hate the president. He has no reason to want JFK dead. He is, however, bitter that a man such as John Kennedy has so many advantages in life. Oswald well understands that it's easier for men born into privilege to distinguish themselves. But other than that small amount of envy, he does not speak unfavorably about the president. In fact, Oswald would very much like to emulate JFK.

Above all, he wants to be a great man.

"Can I ride home with you this afternoon?" Oswald casually asks coworker Wesley Frazier. The nineteen-year-old's home is a half block from where Marina Oswald lives with Ruth Paine. Oswald often catches a ride out to the suburb of Irving on Friday in Frazier's nine-year-old black Chevy four-door and then makes the return trip back into Dallas with him on Monday.

"Sure," Wesley replies. They are standing on the first floor of the Texas School Book Depository, next to a large table. "You know, like I told you, you can go home with me anytime you want to, like I say, anytime you want to go see your wife that is all right with me."

But then Frazier realizes that today isn't Friday. It's Thursday-and Oswald never rides to Irving on Thursdays. "Why are you going home today?" Frazier asks him.

"I am going home to get some curtain rods," Oswald replies.

Oswald then steals a length of brown wrapping paper from the depository's s.h.i.+pping department. He spends the rest of his workday fas.h.i.+oning a bag in which to conceal his "curtain rods."

Through it all, as he folds the paper to form the best possible sheath in which to hide his rifle, Lee Harvey Oswald is unsure that he will actually kill President Kennedy. What he really wants is to be permanently reunited with Marina and the girls. Tonight, he will beg his wife to take him back.

But if she doesn't, Oswald will be left with no choice.

That is how delusional Lee Harvey Oswald's world has become. He now deals only in absolutes: either live happily ever after-or murder the president of the United States.

NOVEMBER 22, 1963.

IRVING, TEXAS.

6:30 A.M.

The Oswalds have been fighting. Again. But this time is different. This time it's over. Lee Harvey stands at the foot of the bed in their cramped room at Ruth Paine's house, dressed for work in gray pants and an old s.h.i.+rt. He twists the wedding band off his left hand and drops it into a china cup on the dresser. It was once a symbol of his love for Marina, but now it is yet another confirmation of the failure that envelops his life.

Today Oswald will do something to change all that. Today he will prove that he is not a failure, even if it means losing his own life in the process.

He drops $187 in cash onto the dresser as a going-away present to his wife and daughters. After all, it's not as if he has a future.

Marina lies on the bed, half awake. Hers and her husband's last night together was not romantic. Oswald tossed and turned while Marina was up with the baby twice. They did not make love, although Marina made a 3:00 A.M. attempt at tenderness. He responded by angrily kicking her away.

Oswald's trip home was primarily to get his rifle. But he was willing to set aside his dark plan if Marina agreed to live with him. All evening long he pleaded with his wife to reconcile. He told her how much he missed his girls, and even promised to buy Marina a was.h.i.+ng machine because he knew how much she wanted one.

But Marina was furious that he had come to see her on a Thursday, which was against Ruth Paine's house rules. So Oswald's pleas turned into yet another round of bickering. But still he didn't give up.

Marina, however, doesn't seem to want him back. They spent the evening outside, playing with June and Audrey on the dying autumn gra.s.s of Ruth Paine's lawn. Oswald pleaded with Marina to become his wife again. She wavered, because Lee Harvey Oswald had once been the love of her life. But she did not give in.

Oswald went to bed early. He lay there thinking. Even when Marina came to bed, her body warm and smelling like soap from a late-night bath, he pretended to be asleep. The hours pa.s.sed. Over time he found his courage. He had nothing left in the world. He would go forward with his plan.

Now, at dawn, after dressing for work and leaving his worldly possessions on the dresser, Lee Harvey Oswald hears Marina stir behind him.

"Don't get up," he tells her. "I'll get breakfast myself."

She's exhausted and has no intention of getting up. Audrey fusses, and Marina reaches for her to nurse her. Oswald softly lets himself out of the room without saying good-bye.

The a.s.sa.s.sin fixes himself a cup of instant coffee in the kitchen, then steps into Ruth Paine's crowded garage to retrieve his rifle. He unrolls the blanket lying next to his olive-green Marine Corps seabag, revealing the 6.5-millimeter Mannlicher-Carcano infantry carbine. He lays the gun in the brown paper wrapping he stole from work yesterday.

Holding the "curtain rods" by the barrel, he steps out of the garage, forever leaving his old life behind.

By 8:00 A.M., Oswald and Wesley Frazier are pulling up for work at the Texas School Book Depository. Oswald is out of the car before Frazier cuts the engine. He has grabbed his brown package and raced inside the building before Frazier can catch up and ask him why he's in such a hurry.

"It's raining," says George Thomas, stepping inside John Kennedy's Fort Worth hotel suite. The president's valet rouses him at precisely 7:30 A.M. A crowd is already gathering in the parking lot eight floors below, waiting to hear Kennedy speak to them from the back of a flatbed truck. The audience of nearly five thousand is mostly male, and primarily union workers. Many have been standing in the rain for hours.

"That's too bad," Kennedy replies to his valet. He rises from bed and heads for the shower. Rain means that the bubble-top roof will be buckled onto his limousine for the Dallas motorcade. Not only will the local citizens be upset by having to wait in the cold and rain for hours until he pa.s.ses by, but their inability to get a clear glimpse of the president and First Lady inside the bubble will do little to sway their votes come next November.

The president wraps himself in his back brace, tightly adjusting the straps. He then dresses in a blue two-b.u.t.ton suit, a dark blue tie, and a white s.h.i.+rt with gray stripes from Cardin's in Paris. He reads the CIA situation reports, paying close attention to the casualty count from Vietnam. After that, he scans several newspapers. The Chicago Sun-Times is reporting that Jackie just might be the pivotal factor in helping him get reelected in 1964. That's the best news of this trip so far: everyone loves the First Lady. The uproar over her bikini photos has clearly been forgotten.

The people of Texas screamed and cheered for JFK on the first day of the Texas trip. But as big as his ovations are, and as intently as the audiences hung on every word of his speeches, the reception John Kennedy received was nothing like what his wife is experiencing. Jackie is the talk of Texas, and bringing her along may just be the smartest political move the president has ever made.

By 9:00 A.M., John Kennedy is standing on the back of the flatbed truck, looking upbeat and triumphant. "There are no faint hearts in Forth Worth," he says approvingly to the crowd. He has a well-deserved reputation for not giving in to the elements. The union workers knew their waiting in the rain would be rewarded and that the speech would not be canceled.

"Where's Jackie?" someone shouts.

"Where's Jackie?" yells another voice.

John Kennedy smiles and points up to her hotel room. "Mrs. Kennedy is organizing herself," he jokes. On the eighth floor, sitting before her vanity, Jackie can hear the speech rising up from the parking lot. She enjoys hearing her name and how easily her husband banters with the crowd.

"It takes her a little bit longer," the president adds. "But, of course, she looks a little bit better than we do when she does it."

The crowd roars in laughter, as if the president is their coolest drinking buddy and he's sharing some juicy tidbit about his personal life.

But the truth is that, today, Jackie doesn't just need a little extra time to get ready-she needs a lot of time. The First Lady looks visibly exhausted as she primps before the mirror. Campaigning is hard work. Yet she is determined to stick this out. There is to be another swing through California in two weeks, and she wants to make that trip, too. In fact, Jackie Kennedy is determined to be at her husband's side from now until he is reelected next November.