Killing Kennedy: The End of Camelot

276 Pages·2012·2.59 MB·English

by  Bill O'Reilly

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This book is dedicated to my ancestors, the Kennedys of
Yonkers, New York.
Hardworking, generous, and honest folks.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
A Note to Readers
Prologue
Part I: Cheating Death
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part II: The Curtain Descends
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part III: Evil Wins
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Afterword
Epilogue
Sources
Acknowledgments
Index
About the Authors
Copyright
A Note to Readers
NOVEMBER 22, 1963
MINEOLA, NEW YORK
APPROXIMATELY 2:00 P.M.
The students in Brother Carmine Diodati’s freshman Religion class were
startled. Over the loudspeaker, a radio report crackled into the Chaminade High
School classroom. President John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas,
and taken to the hospital. A short time later we would all learn he was dead. No
one knew what to say.
Most Americans born before 1953 remember exactly where they were when
they heard the news that JFK had been assassinated. The days following that
terrible Friday were filled with sadness and confusion. Why did it happen? Who
really killed the president? What kind of country did we live in anyway?
The assassination of JFK was somewhat personal for me. My maternal
grandmother was born Winifred Kennedy, and my Irish-Catholic family had
deep emotional ties to the young president and his family. It felt as if someone in
my own home had died violently. Like most kids on Long Island, I didn’t care
much about national politics. But I vividly remember pictures of JFK displayed
in the homes of my relatives. To them, he was a saint. To me, he was a distant
figure who died in a terrible way, his brain splattered all over the trunk of a car.
The vision of his wife, Jacqueline, crawling onto the back of the limo in order to
retrieve the president’s shattered skull has stayed with me always.
*
Martin Dugard and I were well pleased that millions of people read and enjoyed
Killing Lincoln. We want to make history accessible to everyone. We want to tell
readers exactly what happened and why, using a style that is entertaining as well
as informative. After chronicling the last days of Abraham Lincoln, the
progression to John Kennedy was a natural.
It has been widely pointed out that the two men had much in common. In fact,
the parallels are amazing:
Lincoln was first elected in 1860, Kennedy in 1960.
Both were assassinated on a Friday, in the presence of their wives.
Their successors were both southerners named Johnson who had
served in the Senate.
Andrew Johnson was born in 1808, Lyndon Johnson in 1908.
Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846, while Kennedy was
elected to the House in 1946.
Both men suffered the death of children while in office.
The assassin Booth shot inside a theater and fled into a storage
facility, while the assassin Oswald shot from a storage facility and fled
into a theater.
Back in 1963, few Americans understood how profoundly the assassination of
JFK would change the country. These days, history is a difficult thing to impart,
especially because of political agendas. In this book, we will try to cut through
the fog and bring you the facts. Unfortunately, some of the facts are still not
known. In our narrative, Martin Dugard and I go only as far as the evidence
takes us. We are not conspiracy guys, although we do raise some questions about
what is unknown and inconsistent.
However, before you proceed further, please know that this is a fact-based
book and some of what you will read has never before been publicly stated.
The truth about President Kennedy is sometimes gallant, and sometimes
disturbing. The truth about how and why he was murdered is simply atrocious.
But all Americans should know the story.
It’s all here in this book. It is my special privilege to bring it to you.
BILL O’REILLY
May 2012
Long Island, New York
MAY 29, 1917–NOVEMBER 22, 1963
Prologue
JANUARY 20, 1961
WASHINGTON, D.C.
12:51 P.M.
The man with fewer than three years to live has his left hand on the Bible.
Chief Justice Earl Warren stands before him reciting the Presidential Oath of
Office. “Do you, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, do solemnly swear…”
“I, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, do solemnly swear,” the new president repeats in
a clipped Boston accent. His gaze is directed at the jurist whose name will one
day be synonymous with Kennedy’s own death.
The new president, born into wealth, has a refined manner of speaking that
would seem to distance him from the electorate. But he is an enthusiastic and
easily likeable man’s man. He joked openly about his father’s vast riches during
the campaign, defusing that divisive issue with humor and candor so that
average Americans would trust him when he spoke about making America
better. “Poor men in West Virginia heard a man from Boston say he needed their
help, and they gave it. In the alien corn of Nebraska, with a familiar chopping
motion of his right hand, he explained that America can be ‘great-ah,’ and the
farmers knew what he meant,” one writer noted of Kennedy’s broad appeal.
But not everyone loves JFK. He won the popular vote over Richard Nixon by
a razor-thin margin, garnering just 49 percent of the tally. Those farmers might
have known what Kennedy meant, but 62 percent of Nebraskans voted for
Nixon.
“That you will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States.”
“That I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States…”
Eighty million Americans are watching the inauguration on television. Twenty
thousand more are there in person. Eight inches of thick, wet snow have fallen
on Washington, D.C., overnight. The army had to use flamethrowers to clear the
roads. The sun now shines on the Capitol Building, but a brutal wind strafes the
crowd. Spectators wrap their bodies in sleeping bags, blankets, thick sweaters,
and winter coats—anything to stay warm.
But John Kennedy ignores the cold. He has even removed his overcoat. At age
forty-three, JFK exudes fearlessness and vigor. His lack of coat, top hat, scarf, or