He has been coming to this place ever since to tell the truth.
What is the truth?
"Everybody ran here," he says, meaning the Grassy Knoll. "You could smell the gunpowder."
He didn't see any shooters when he arrived, but he pulls out a black and white photo of a man in a suit and a white cowboy hat, behind the fence, carrying something under a jacket or cover that Mike says is a rifle.
There is a police officer in the photo. Mike knows him, shows the two together in a recent color photo. The police officer says the man told him he was with the Secret Service and should keep the crowd that was coming up to the fence area away, which the officer then did. The man disappeared.
Mike was thirteen in 1963. He shows a color photo of him in the crowd on Elm Street, a skinny kid in a red and white checkered shirt, wide eyes, leaning forward to see the oncoming motorcade in front of the Dal-Tex building. He later testified in front of the Warren Commission when it came to Dallas.
It's small. Tiny. So much in so little space. It's like finding out WWII actually took place in a closet. The shot from the Grassy Knoll was point-blank. There is an "X" in the middle lane of the road.
The road angles downward. The Grassy Knoll fence is still there. Right there is the overpass where the car disappeared into history with Jackie Kennedy climbing onto the back of the vehicle to retrieve part of her husband's brain.
I walk around to look over. I would be too short to be a shooter, but you realize that the shot was point-blank. It's all just right-there.
The train whistle blows. Behind, there are the tracks, the overpass.
Mike says it's all just as it was then, the fence is the same. He points to the perch where Abraham Zapruder stood with his camera. It's right there, just a few feet away.
This hasn't all been a dream. It's real.
On the back of the fence people have written their names, dedications to the president.
"St. John Hunt was here, son of E. Howard Hunt, 1/13/08."
"JFK, God Bless You."
"George Bush Did It/911 Truth."
What is the truth?
"Everybody ran here," he says, meaning the Grassy Knoll. "You could smell the gunpowder."
He didn't see any shooters when he arrived, but he pulls out a black and white photo of a man in a suit and a white cowboy hat, behind the fence, carrying something under a jacket or cover that Mike says is a rifle.
Mike was thirteen in 1963. He shows a color photo of him in the crowd on Elm Street, a skinny kid in a red and white checkered shirt, wide eyes, leaning forward to see the oncoming motorcade in front of the Dal-Tex building. He later testified in front of the Warren Commission when it came to Dallas.
It's small. Tiny. So much in so little space. It's like finding out WWII actually took place in a closet. The shot from the Grassy Knoll was point-blank. There is an "X" in the middle lane of the road.
The road angles downward. The Grassy Knoll fence is still there. Right there is the overpass where the car disappeared into history with Jackie Kennedy climbing onto the back of the vehicle to retrieve part of her husband's brain.
I walk around to look over. I would be too short to be a shooter, but you realize that the shot was point-blank. It's all just right-there.
The train whistle blows. Behind, there are the tracks, the overpass.
Mike says it's all just as it was then, the fence is the same. He points to the perch where Abraham Zapruder stood with his camera. It's right there, just a few feet away.
This hasn't all been a dream. It's real.
On the back of the fence people have written their names, dedications to the president.
"St. John Hunt was here, son of E. Howard Hunt, 1/13/08."
"JFK, God Bless You."
"George Bush Did It/911 Truth."
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