6. THE TIPPIT MURDER

If the Tippit murder had not happened, it would have had to have been "invented." There is reason to believe that, in effect, it was.

The assassination case against Oswald was no case at all. It hung on coincidences, conjectures, speculations, and eyewitness accounts of such dubiousness no sensible lawyer would have taken them to court. Above all, it depended upon a willingness to believe. That willingness was supplied by the murder of Tippit. As the police seized upon this "coincidence" and wholesaled their version to an upset world clamoring for the capture of the assassin, there seemed to be no question in this murder. Innumerable dependable witnesses saw everything -- the shooting, the flight, and the capture.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The so-called evidence in the Tippit case is a tissue so thin the Commission should have seen through it without difficulty. But its myopia in the Kennedy assassination turned into blindness in the Tippit killing.

The Commission accepted the police version of the Tippit slaying without any audible question. With all of its powers with the unequaled investigative resources upon which it could draw, even with its ability to compel testimony sheltered from cross examination, for all of the vaunted eyewitnesses and the so-called "ballistics evidence," it wound up with a case so feeble that it lacks even the official certification that Tippit is dead!

As with the solution of the assassination, when the Commission was faced with undesirable alternatives, choosing the unbelievable version of the Dallas police and launching its own real investigation, the Commission chose to stick with the pat story which most Americans had been cozened into believing. The police lost all interest in any other suspect when they had Oswald in hand. This is clearly established by the 362 typewritten pages of the three otherwise contradictory versions of the same radio logs, which reveal the existence of other suspects. The Commission was unwilling to confront the inevitable consequences of destroying the reconstructed "solution" of the Tippit murder. Had it done so, the "solution" of the assassination would have been jeopardized. Then all the questions crying to be asked would have been heard.

Both the police and the Commission made the same decision: With a bird in hand, why beat the bushes?

The result in the Tippit case was that the Commission proved Oswald could not have been the murderer. For all the care used in drafting the Report, with all that its authors were able to suppress from the evidence -- and no other word will do -- there emerged a highly questionable story. Examination of the misrepresented, scattered, buried, avoided and suppressed evidence in the supplementary volumes reveals a shocking story.

Having gotten Oswald out of the Texas School Book Depository Building at 12:33 p.m., in defiance of its own unimpeached evidence, the Commission then got him to his rooming house at 1026 North Beckley Avenue in the Oak Cliff area by a combination of fast shuttle and fast shuffle the shuttle on the transportation and the shuffle of the witnesses and their testimony.

To get to his rooming house, Oswald had to take a bus that went past the Book Depository Building to the west. With the confusion already beginning in the area and the even greater confusion certain rapidly to ensue, we are to believe that he walked seven blocks to the east to catch an oncoming bus that would be bound to get caught in the traffic jam. He stayed on this bus just long enough to involve the Commission with two of the most fantastic of its witnesses and left in time to involve it with another. The reader is encouraged to compare the delicately selected portions of their testimony quoted by the Report with what they actually said. This section of the Report is entitled "Oswald's Movements After Leaving Depository" (R157-65).

Cecil McWatters was the bus driver. He had his own private candidate for assassin -- not Oswald -- and voted for him at the lineup. With commendable understatement, their Report decided "McWatters' recollection alone was too vague to be a basis for placing Oswald on the bus" (R159).

He was reinforced by Mary Bledsoe. She generously, if injudiciously, provided the Commission with the kind of purple language it could quote and it did, but not in context. The Report culled the phrases: "I didn't like his attitude"; "just didn't want him around me"; "there was something about him I didn't like . . .", ". . . he looked so bad in his face, and his face was so distorted" (R159). Any meaning in all but the last quotation really has to be supplied by the reader. Mrs. Bledsoe was alone in her opinion of Oswald's visage. In half a sentence, the Report condensed Mrs. Bledsoe's testimony about Oswald s shirt saying, "Mrs. Bledsoe identified the shirt as the one Oswald was wearing and she stated she was certain that it was Oswald who boarded the bus" (R159). The Report found no space for the means by which she identified the shirt -- it alone was shown her by government agents. Nor did it find it necessary to quote her testimony that prior to being shown the shirt she had never seen it.

Four blocks after leaving the bus on which, to the Commission's good fortune, he was seen by McWatters and Mrs. Bledsoe, Oswald took a cab driven by William Whaley. It was Whaley who in his testimony escalated the size of the four-man police lineup to six and delivered Oswald to three different addresses, including an intersection of two streets that run parallel. Of Whaley's identification of Oswald's clothing, the Report says he "testified that Oswald was wearing either the gray zippered jacket or the heavy blue jacket. He was in error, however . . . " So is the Report. Oswald was wearing neither, but Whaley swore he was wearing both.

Whaley's commentary on the Dallas police, which began with the flat statement that they had prepared for him a statement to which he swore, identifying Oswald before viewing the lineup, the Report found unworthy of mention. It did, however, refer with Whaleyian accuracy to his performance at the lineup: "Whaley said that Oswald was the man under No. 2. Actually Oswald was under No. 3" (R161).

After a dose of Whaley, the authors of the Report may be forgiven almost anything. Oswald was under number 2, regardless of what the Report says (6H430). In his final appearance before the Commission, Whaley resolved the problem with which he had confronted it with this affidavit in which he said Oswald was the No. 3 man. Although each position had a number over it, and Oswald was under the number "2," Whaley decided to ignore the official numbers and count. Not from left to right, as the official police numbers went, but from right to left. That is how Oswald got to be No. 3.

The confusion in the addresses to which Whaley said he took Oswald was resolved in the Report in the same way it resolved the contradiction in Whaley's manifest, which showed the wrong time. It just got him to say he had been wrong and what the Commission needed in its race against time was right. So, as Oswald had, according to the Commission, seen fit to walk seven blocks in the wrong direction to catch his bus, he also rode the cab five or more blocks past his rooming house and then walked back (R162-3). By means of clocking both the cab ride and the walk, with the help of Whaley's verbal correction of his written manifest, the authors of the Report felt they were able to say that Oswald got to the rooming house at 1 o'clock. Perhaps the exact language, which makes mention of the other address Whaley gave, might be more interesting. Oswald "would have entered the cab at 12:47 or 12:48 p.m." because he left the bus at 12:44. The cab took six minutes.

"If he was discharged at Neely and Beckley (the Commission's preference) and walked directly to his rooming-house, he would have arrived there about 12:59 to 1 p.m. From the 500 block of North Beckley (the address in the manifest, two blocks farther from the rooming house), the walk would be a few minutes longer, but in either event he would have been in the rooming house at about 1 p.m." The Commission was going to get him there at 1 p.m. come hell, high water or fact, because, as it will soon be seen, 1 p.m. was really too late, anyway.

The testimony that placed Oswald at his rooming house was vague by even the Commission's standards. Instead of quoting it, they state it on their own authority, "about 1 p m. he entered the house . . ." (R163). The section on the rooming house is concluded with more of the "if" evidence "If Oswald left his rooming house shortly after 1 p.m. and walked at a brisk pace, he would have reached 10th and Patton shortly after 1:15 p.m. Tippit's murder was recorded on the police radio tape at about 1:16 p.m." (R165).

Mrs. Earlene Roberts, then housekeeper at the rooming house, testified to almost what the Commission wanted on time. But seconds were too precious for the Report to quote her testimony as the source of its knowledge There were too many hazards involved. Only once during her ten-page deposition (6H43444) did the subject of time arise. The Commission knew in advance just about all the witnesses would testify to. Assistant Counsel Ball asked her "approximately" what time Oswald arrived.

"Now it must have been around 1 o'clock, or maybe a little after, because it was after President Kennedy had been shot -- what time I wouldn't want to say because --"

That was enough for Ball. He interrupted her to ask, "How long did he stay in the room?"

"Oh, maybe no more than 3 or 4 minutes . . ." Mrs. Roberts answered (6H440).

The Report acknowledges Mrs. Roberts' statement that shortly after Oswald left the house she saw he was waiting at a bus stop. She did not use the word "seconds" as the Report does. Nor did this question even come up in her testimony. It was in an affidavit she executed December 5, 1963 (7H439). The Commission, of course, knew of the affidavit and quoted it in her testimony but avoided this part. In it she stated, "I saw Lee Oswald standing on the curb at the bus stop just to the right and on the same side of the street as our house. I just glanced out the window that once. I don't know how long Lee Oswald stood at the curb nor did I see which direction he went when he left there."

Understandably, the Report wanted to avoid this as much as possible. The bus stop at which Mrs. Roberts last saw Oswald is for the bus going north on Beckley. The Tippit murder was south of there. The Report preferred not to explain why a man it wanted to be going south without the waste of a fraction of a second was waiting for a northbound bus. Naturally, the amount of time waiting at a bus stop should have been deducted from the time Oswald had to get to the Tippit killing. The Report did not want to deduct it, and so it did not.

Although not at this point, the Report also acknowledges Mrs. Roberts' testimony that after Oswald got home and before he left, a police car stopped in front of the house. It signaled with the horn "several times," and drove off (R253)

"Investigation has not produced any evidence that there was a police vehicle in the area," the Report continues. It also pretends to account for all the vehicles with numbers similar to 106 or 107. Mrs. Roberts had made clear she paid no attention to the number and guessed it might have been one of these (6H443). Her vision is so bad -- she is blind in one eye -- she waived reading her deposition, a courtesy granted by the Commission (6H444).

Dallas police cars bear their numbers in relatively small and thin lettering within the word "Dallas," arranged like an arc above the word "Police," lettered horizontally. In the combination of these numbers the Commission investigated, it avoided one -- 10. The first two numbers given by Mrs. Roberts were one and zero, 10. That was the number of Tippit's car.

What kind of investigation the Commission conducted on the assignment of police cars is not indicated, but one thing is certain -- it did not include examination of the police radio logs which clearly reveal one police car was assigned to that area -- No. 10, Tippit's car.

In Exhibit 705 (17H401), the dispatcher asked Tippit, "You are in the Oak Cliff area, are you not?" Tippit replied, "Lancaster and 8th." The dispatcher told Tippit, "You will be at large for any emergency that comes in." Tippit acknowledged. This conversation was between the 12:54 and 12:55 p.m. time checks. Lancaster and Eighth is about nine blocks from the rooming house. The Report, for all the space it devoted to Jack Ruby, did not reveal his address. In his questioning by the Commission, Ruby was not asked for his address. The Appendix on "Speculations and Rumors" (R662) says Oswald's room and Ruby's apartment were 1.3 miles apart. One unofficial account located Ruby's apartment at Ninth and Lancaster, a block from Tippit's broadcast location.

Soon the dispatcher called Tippit again and got no response. The time is not given in Exhibit 705. The dispatcher's request for his "location" addressed to Tippit, according to another version of the log, Exhibit 1974, was about 1 p.m. It was prior to a 1:04 time check. By coinci dence, this unanswered call from the dispatcher is just about the time Mrs. Roberts said the police car signaled.

At the rate the Commission said the Whaley cab drove, Tippit was about 2 minutes away from Oswald's rooming house when he reported his location. Why he should have failed to answer the call from the dispatcher, which just happened to be about the time the only police car in the area, his, was reported outside the rooming house, is, of course, a mystery.

If the Report can say of the above evidence in its possession "investigation has produced no evidence" of a police car in the area, what can be said of the investigation? In what light does it put all the investigations?

While the text has avoided the exact time Oswald left the rooming house, in a chart purporting to show Oswald's unseen movements, Exhibit 1119-A (R158), the Report fixes this time at 1:03. The only evidence, Earlene Roberts', is to the contrary. If there is anything clear from Mrs. Roberts' evidence on time, it is that at 1:03 Oswald could not yet have started walking to the Tippit murder scene. But again, the Commission needed more time than it had. The Report agrees Mrs. Roberts was the last person to see Oswald before he allegedly appeared nine-tenths of a mile away, at Tenth and Patton Streets (R165).

Undaunted, the Report reconstructs Oswald's walk without the handicap of eyewitnesses. Exhibit 1119-A shows that he walked back down Patton, retracing the walk he allegedly took when leaving the cab, to Davis Street. For reasons known only to the Commission, he turned east on Davis to Crawford, which runs diagonally to the southeast. At Tenth he turned toward the northeast. A block ahead was the scene of the coming Tippit slaying.

The Commission's chart, for all the rare telepathic powers the artist had, enabling him to commune with the dead, omitted three of the four streets crossing Beckley upon which Oswald could have turned. It does not show that Patton, the street whose corner with Tenth is closest to the scene of the killing, parallels Beckley north of Davis. If Oswald was going to a rendezvous with Tippit, he was not using the most convenient route. He did go out of his way, which at least has the merit of keeping all the Commission's route reconstructions illogical and unlikely. If he had been going to where Ruby's apartment was reported to have been, at the scene of the killing he was about six blocks away. Again, if he were going to Ruby's, he was not going by the direct route.

The telepathic powers of the staff did not extend to learning the alleged Oswald's alleged destination. There appears to be no reason why he should have been walking as he was in the reconstruction. The one possible destination indicated by the Report or its chart is the Texas Theater. He would have reached this by walking south on Beckley to Jefferson and turning west a short distance. That is where he was subsequently arrested. No suggestion of where Oswald was going or why he would have gone the way the Report says he did is even hinted at. He was seen by no one. He went that way because the Report says he went that way.

There is but one thing that makes sense of this reconstruction. That is an effort to make it conform to the highly suspect testimony of Helen Markham. Mrs. Markham said she saw the man she later identified as Oswald cross Patton at Tenth, going from southwest to northeast. The most direct route in conformity with Mrs. Markham's account was the one the Report used, whether or not it makes sense. By using its new technique of willing the existence of proof, by just wishing it into existence, the Report substantiates her. If anybody needed substantiation, it certainly was Mrs. Markham.

The Report allows Oswald less than 13 minutes to walk from his rooming house to Tenth and Patton. This generosity towards itself was accomplished by simply ignoring Mrs. Roberts' unquestioned testimony. As it did with its other Oswald movements, the Commission timed this one with a stopwatch on April 8, 1964. It did not bother to take sworn testimony from the staff members who did the timing. Assistant Counsel David W. Belin merely declared while examining Whaley that he and others had walked by what he described as the "long way around route" (6H434). How long did it take?

Seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds! Tippit was killed five minutes before Oswald could have gotten to the scene of his murder!

It is now clear why this is the only one of the time reconstructions not quoted but "interpreted" by the Report.

So we begin our examination of the Tippit murder, with which Oswald was charged by both the police and the Commission, with the certain knowledge that he could not have been the killer. The Commission itself proved this, though unintentionally.

"Poor Dumb Cop"

Patrolman J. D. Tippit was cruising east on Patton Street at about 1:15 p.m. when he saw and stopped a man he must have recognized as the suspected assassin. The Report reaches this conclusion because the police radio had broadcast the suspect's description and Tippit had a radio (R165). If Tippit had heard the description, did it not follow he was just ignoring the dispatcher's call to him? Having found it expedient to avoid the unanswered 1 o'clock call to him, the Report also avoids the likely implications.

The policemen who commented upon this broadcast description of the assassin found it "vague." The Commission's purposes were served by regarding this as a description from which an identification could be made. Therefore, it pretended the description was meaningful. Its purposes were served by assuming Tippit heard the broadcast. It so assumed. No contradiction is possible. Tippit is dead. The Commission represents power and authority. Its conclusions have been more widely reported and believed than those of any document in history. One of the foundations of its entire Report is this assumption, for it is this unsubstantiated hypothesis, without authentication, that provides the reason for Tippit's action.

Of the man the clairvoyant Tippit stopped, there were enough readily available descriptions from the various witnesses so that almost any average size man who was not fat would have fit. The Report, as with the Kennedy assassination, was unable to come up with who gave the broadcast description. This is as incredible with the Tippit killing as it was with the assassination, even if the Commission was content.

Mrs. Markham was standing on the diagonally opposite corner. Although she lives in the area, she was unable to identify directions even with assistance, and strong hints from the Commission. She was standing there screaming after the shooting. She put her hands over her eyes but kept her fingers spread, baby-fashion, and through the cracks she saw the gunman. This is her account, in any event, even if other witnesses contradict it. Mrs. Markham's description "and that of other witnesses led to the police broadcast at 1:22 p.m. describing the slayer as 'about 5'8", black hair, slender'" (R167). Omitted from this description is the fact that the pickup notice was not for the killing but for "investigation." It also gave a clothing description, including "a white jacket" and a "white shirt." This was not a description of the clothing Oswald was wearing (17H410).

There were serious problems with Mrs. Markham and her contradictory descriptions. The Report does not quote her as the source. It is satisfied with the police composite.

Prior to the murder, the police car stopped and the man walked up to it and rested his forearms on the right-hand door and had a calm chat with Tippit. Then with equal calmness, Tippit got out of the police car and started to walk toward the front. Having, as the Report informs us, suspected this man was the dangerous killer, the policeman did not find it necessary to draw his pistol. Instead, he just sat there, unarmed, and they had a quiet talk. In quoting Chief Curry's characterization of Tippit as a "very fine, dedicated officer," the Report merely adds to the incredibility of this account.

When Tippit was abreast of the hood of his car, the gunman fired. Three shots, according to Mrs. Markham (R165). Three shots, according to Domingo Benavides, the only bona fide eyewitness who was 25 feet or less away and looking (R166). Captain Glen King, three times (20H454). The Davis women, two times. The Report, however, says four bullets were recovered from Tippit's body (R172). Captain King, having placed the number of shots at three, also located them. At some point, there must be some record that states precisely what injuries Tippit sustained. He was taken by ambulance to Methodist Hospital. And they do have autopsies in Texas, even if the President did not get one. But the Report has no medical statement on Tippit and no autopsy report.

Further contradicting the account of the Report and compounding the uncertainty is an undated and unsigned Dallas Police Department "case report" on which J. R Leavelle is listed as the investigating officer (Exhibit 2003, 24H253). Undescribed in the table of contents of the volume, which identifies this single exhibit of hundreds of pages of different--even unrelated-- documents as "Dallas Police Department file on investigation of the assassination of the President," this "case report" says Oswald ". . . shot Officer Tippit three times: one time each in the hand, chest and stomach."

Having killed the policeman, did the murderer flee? Of course not. First he remained at the scene, in plain view of the eyewitnesses. He removed two empty casings from the revolver and carefully dropped them where Benavides (6H444) could not avoid seeing them. Then he took his time back down to the corner he had just crossed and repeated the performance in view of Mrs. Markham and two other women named Davis whose exact relationship the Commission leaves unsettled.

At the corner he increased his pace a bit. He crossed Patton either there or near the next corner, depending upon which eyewitness you believe. Having gone south for a block on Patton, he turned west on Jefferson and was last seen near a parking lot in that block. Twelve people saw him during this short time. None followed him.

If this man was Oswald, as the Report says, and if it was Oswald seen sneaking into the Texas Theater with $14.00 in his pocket, as the Report also says, it took this officially authenticated block-a-minute walker almost half an hour to traverse that five-block distance. However, according to the testimony, he got there looking as though he had been running.

At the murder scene, meanwhile, Benavides had reported the slaying over the dead officer's radio. The place was soon crawling with police, despite the apparent inability of the dispatcher to give the right address. He was given it immediately, but each time he answered a call he gave a different wrong address. Benavides carefully recovered the two empty shells he saw fall. The police appear to have then made no real search for the others.

Mrs. "Charlie" Virginia Davis and Mrs. Barbara Jeanette Davis had different apartments in the old house on the southeast corner of Tenth and Patton. At the time of the shooting, Charlie Virginia was on a bed in Barbara's living room. Later that day, she found one of the empty casings dropped at the corner. Still later, Barbara found the other (3H345). They turned the casings over to the police.

Although the police appear to have made no serious search for the empty cartridges, there are two indications of a police interest in them. Both were recorded in the radio logs. One reported the finding of an empty automatic pistol shell (17H417). It would seem that policemen would know the difference between revolver and automatic casings. And it would seem they should all count to four without error. But after the two Benavides shells and the finding of the automatic shell, the dispatcher ordered two cars back to the theater, saying, "they want the theater shaken down good for two hulls (Dallas police jargon for empty shells). Believe the subject reloaded his pistol in the theater. We need the two hulls, 2:26 p.m." (17H429).

There is no further interest in the automatic shell. Oswald had been arrested and was on his way to police headquarters before 1:51 (17H420). His revolver could not accept the .38 caliber automatic shell reported found at the scene.

Prior to the 2:26 broadcast, the police had had graphic descriptions of how the suspect had emptied his gun with such ostentation. The reason for the belief the suspect emptied his revolver in the theater is not indicated and the subject is forever forgotten.

Why the weapon had to be emptied one shell at a time also is not indicated. Most revolvers have automatic ejector mechanisms. When some are opened, all the shells, empty or full, are ejected simultaneously. Others have an ejector mechanism that accomplishes the same result. The photograph of this pistol (R170) seems to show such a mechanism. Whether the mechanism was on the pistol and whether or not it was working, nothing could be more suspicious than the discarding of the empty shells at the scene of the crime. Nobody is that stupid and nobody ever accused Oswald of being stupid. Dropping the empty shells could be intended for only one purpose, to have them found and identified.

The witnesses on the shell-dropping episode were not consistent on details. Some had him tapping them out on one hand, some the other; some had him shaking them out. One even saw him rolling a fresh cartridge under his thumb from a half-block away.

Inconsistent witnesses are the rule rather than the exception in the Tippit killing. The clothing, for example, was mildly troubling to the Report. The white shirt was just abandoned. Oswald was wearing a dark one. The white jacket that had been edited out of the text of the police broadcast became a "light-colored" one after a jacket was found (R175).

Later, the Report had to cope with the discrepancies in color description and at that point quotes the rest of tho description broadcast by the police (R175). It repeatedly refers to the jacket in its possession as "light-colored," however. It quotes Mrs. Roberts as believing the jacket Oswald was wearing was darker. Helen Markham and Barbara Davis thought the jacket they saw on the Tippit killer was darker, but William Scoggins, a cabdriver, thought it was lighter. It was Scoggins who reported the killer was muttering "poor dumb cop" or "poor damn cop" while passing Scoggins' cab (R166).

Barbara also told the Commission the man was wearing a "black coat" (3H347).

The Report did not think "Charlie" Davis's description worthy of mention (R176). She did have some trouble distinguishing between what she saw and what she heard or thought (6H456). She heard only two shots. The killer "didn't look like he was over 20." He had light brown hair and was wearing a "light-brown-tan jacket," open, but she did not see the shirt (6H457). The four men in the police lineup were five to her (6H462). Although the man she identified in the lineup (that magical number, "2"), Oswald, was "for sure" the man she saw leaving the scene of the crime, she was not certain when she saw Oswald's picture on television that he was Oswald. She "wouldn't say for sure" he was the man she saw leaving (6H462). She and her sister notified the police before they knew what happened in one version she pondered long at the Commission's request (6H467). In a sworn statement, she said she had given the shell she found to Detective Dhority. But she told the Commission she had never heard that name (6H464).

This is a sample of the accurate observers from whom the Commission drew its witnesses.

Where, then, did the police get the description?

The jacket was found about 1:25 p.m. It was lying on the ground in a parking lot (17H411). A few moments later, Sergeant G. L. Hill radioed from Twelfth and Beckley, "have a man in the car with me that can identify the suspect if anybody gets one" (17H412). This may not be as much of a joke as it seems.

A description closer than any other came after the jacket was found. In a broadcast after 1:32 p.m., Patrolman H. W. Summers reported he had an "eyeball witness who saw "a white male, 27, 5'11", 165 pounds, black wavy hair, fair complexted (sic), wearing light gray Eisenhower type jacket. . ." (17H416).

That black wavy hair was a problem. Oswald's was medium brown and anything but wavy. Mrs. Markham gave a similar description of the hair of the man she saw, although she also denied giving it. The Report does not account for the disposition of the "eyeball witness" as such. He is the only one to have described the found jacket with any degree of accuracy. The Report is also barren on the laundry mark on the found jacket, which was also broadcast.

During a conversation with the dispatcher at 1:44 p.m., Sgt. H. H. Stringer said, "the jacket the suspect was wearing over here on Jefferson bears a laundry tag with the letter B 9738. See if there is any way you can check this laundry tag" (17H471, 18H925). It would be comforting to know that this tag enabled the police to make a positive identification of ownership. On the other hand, the silence of the Report strongly suggests the check of the marking did not lead to Oswald. But perhaps detective story readers have been under a misapprehension about laundry marks as important means of clothing identification.

Within a few minutes it all became academic. Johnny Calvin Brewer, 22-year-old manager of a shoe store on Jefferson near the Texas Theater, had been listening to accounts of the crimes on the radio. He saw a man looking in the window of his shoe store and suspected him for the most logical and scientific reasons: "He just looked funny to me. Well, in the first place, I had seen him someplace before. I think he had been in my store before. His hair was messed up and looked like he had been running, and he looked scared, and he looked funny (7H4). The man's shirttail was also out.

After his struggle with the police, Oswald's hair was still not "messed up." He never looked frightened, even in the arrest pictures. And for the time it took him to go the last alleged six blocks, why should he have been running? This man then went to the Texas Theater where neither cashier, Mrs. Julia Postal (7H14), nor the usher, Warren E. Burroughs (7H14-7), saw him enter. Brewer called this to Mrs. Postal's attention. Because children had crashed the Theater in this fashion by the only means of getting past Burroughs, walking up the stairs to the balcony, Brewer and Burroughs checked the balcony and the man was not there. So Mrs. Postal called the police (7H5), giving them a description of a "ruddy-looking" man. They promptly told her, "Well, it fits the description" (7H11)

For no clear reason, the Report slighted Brewer, leaving the location of his shoe store off the chart of Oswald's movements (R158).

Then, at 1:45 p.m., a horde of police were converging on the theater (R178). They surrounded it. Brewer took Patrolman M. N. McDonald (3H295-304), who had entered by a rear door, and pointed out his suspect. The house lights were turned on (7H5). Instead of going immediately to the suspect, who was in the back of the theater, McDonald played it smart. Not fearing this dangerous killer might shoot him, he turned his back on the suspect, and worked his way toward the back, frisking the other patrons as he went. Asked if he kept his eye on the suspect, McDonald replied, "Yes, sir. He was to my back. I was looking over my shoulder at him" (3H299).

During this man-by-man search of the theater, Oswald remained seated. When McDonald got abreast of him and ordered him to his feet, "he rose immediately, bringing up both hands . . ."

What is proper police procedure on approaching a dangerous killer who had accommodated the arresting officer by raising his hands in surrender? Dallas-style, the policeman does not order the suspect to move, such as out from between the seats. The policeman just grabs the surrendering suspect and starts a fight. At least, that is McDonald's version. When he grabbed Oswald by the waist, Oswald hit him, and he hit back. Meanwhile, Oswald was withdrawing the gun from his waist. McDonald got his other hand on Oswald's gun hand and they fell down, struggling, with McDonald's hand on "the action," presumably meaning the mechanism. McDonald called for help and a number of named officers approached. McDonald then got his hand on the butt of the pistol and "jerked it free" (3H300).

The Report also credits McDonald with taking possession of the pistol (R179) and adds, "Detective Bob K. Carroll, who was standing beside McDonald, seized the gun from him." Carroll's name was not one of those given by McDonald.

Assistant Counsel Ball asked McDonald, "And did you put your mark on the revolver?" McDonald replied, "Yes, sin, I did." There were six live rounds in the revolver, one of which McDonald said bore a slight indentation on the primer, the center of the end of the shell containing the detonating charge. But of these six bullets, he put his identifying mark on but one (3H301-2). Had not Senator Cooper asked at the end of the hearing, "Did you mark the pistol at that time, before you turned it over?" the Record would indicate the identifying mark was immediately put on the weapon. McDonald said he marked it later at the police station (R304). He also said he turned the revolver over to Carroll.

Carroll is a special service bureau detective who sought and got permission to leave the Depository Building where he was participating in the search when he heard of the Tippit shooting (7H19). Mysteriously, his radio call is not given in any of the versions of the radio logs. This is his own version of Oswald's arrest:

Oswald and McDonald were struggling "and then when I got up close enough I saw a pistol pointing at me so I reached out and jerked the pistol away and stuck it in my belt, and then I grabbed Oswald" (7H20). When they got in the car, he gave the weapon to Sergeant G. L. Hill. At a time of which Carroll is not certain, Hill unloaded the revolver (7H22). He also "could see what looked to me like a hammer might have fallen on" one of the bullets when he later examined it (7H23).

The time Carroll put his mark on the firearm was not asked. Carroll had given the weapon to Hill, and McDonald lost possession to Carroll before either put any identification on anything. How did they know what they were identifying when it was not in their possession?

Nor had the arresting officers searched their mad killer. There had been so many policemen in on the arrest, Captain W. R. Westbrook testified it was a wonder Oswald did not get hurt worse than he did. He had gotten a cut and was bruised. The lack of a search is only one of the many facets of the strange Tippit case not mentioned in the section of the Report on "Oswald's Arrest" (R176ff.). Detective Richard M. Sims testified he and E. L. Boyd searched Oswald at about 4:05 p.m. the day of his arrest, more than two hours after the capture. There were then five revolver cartridges in Oswald's pocket (7H173).

The history of these bullets and shells in the hands of the police is approximately the same as that of the rifle shells. This evidence never was secured or tamper-free.

The revolver was traced to Oswald through a mail-order slip in the name of A. J. Hidell. Experts identified the handwriting as Oswald's. The weapon was sent to his Dallas Post Office box. As of the time she was taking her famous one and only picture, showing Oswald armed, Marina thought this was the holstered revolver in that picture. The Report has a section on "Ownership of Revolver" (R172). Except for Marina, no one connects Oswald with that or any other revolver. Marina's qualifications in firearms recognition include the inability to distinguish between a rifle and a shotgun.

This section makes no reference to ammunition. Oswald just had it--two different kinds-- but there was none in his property. There is no reference to any police search to see if or where he bought it, as with the rifle. There is not even the remotest suggestion he ever once fired this revolver. Nor is there even a hint from the ever-available Marina to suggest he ever practiced with it. Each of the shots that hit Tippit, however, would have been fatal; there is no evidence of a missed shot. Revolver ammunition is a1so sold by the box, not by the piece. What happened to the remainder of two boxes of different ammunition? The Report solves this with one of its standard procedures: It just ignores it.

When he got back to the rooming house, according to the Report, Oswald picked up the revolver and put it in his belt. The only proof offered is that an empty holster was found there. The evidence connecting this holster with Oswald is Marina's opinion it could have been the one he wore when she photographed him. We are not told the revolver fit the holster. We are told that the housekeeper never saw either a firearm or holster in his cubicle when she cleaned and straightened it up.

Two policemen each claim to have disarmed Oswald. In McDonald's version, he turned the revolver over to Carroll. Carroll said he "jerked" it when it was pointed at him. Was one policeman about to point a loaded revolver at another while he was fighting with a desperate killer? Each of these policemen saw fit, for reasons nowhere cited, to turn the weapon over to another. If the Commission ever asked why, there is no record of it. Why did either have to let the weapon he was going to be called upon to identify, to the exclusion of all others, out of his possession without first following the normal police practice of placing an identifying mark upon it! If the struggling McDonald turned it over to Carroll while he was fighting, he could have repossessed it after the struggle or at least have marked it before leaving it in Carroll's possession. Carroll had no such excuse for giving the weapon to Hill.

Even the police testimony about the snapping of the firing-pin and the denting of the cartridge is denied by the Report, elsewhere, to be sure. In Appendix X, almost 400 pages later, it admits "none of the cartridges found in the revolver bore the impression of the revolver's firing-pin (R560). Did the police swear falsely? Were the bullets switched?

These may, in print, seem like minor considerations. In court, they have a different impact. American justice requires proof, not supposition, and these witnesses would have been subject to the most intensive examination by defense counsel--had Oswald lived and been tried.

Expert testimony proved the four empty shells were fired in this revolver (R-171-2). But the slugs taken from Tippit's body could not be proved to have been fired from it "Three of the bullets recovered from Tippit's body were manufactured by Winchester-Western, and the fourth bullet by Remington-Peters, but only two of the discarded cases . . . were of Winchester-Western manufacture." This is the dilemma of the Commission--bad arithmetic again. The Commission got around this by concluding, in opposition to almost all the witnesses, "that five shots may have been fired, even though only four bullets were recovered." To get around the single Remington-Peters bullet for two Remington-Peters cartridge cases, the Report decided "either one bullet of Remington-Peters manufacture is missing or one used Remington-Peters cartridge case, which may have been in the revolver before the shooting, was discarded along with the others . . ." (R172).

Would it not have been interesting, however, if the methods of the Tippit case had been applied to the assassination? In that case, as the previous chapter of this book shows, the Commission refused to heed, not speculation but hard proof that its empty rifle shells had been in another or other weapons. The scientific evidence, not conjecture, that the "missed" rifle bullet was of a different type from the one the Commission presumed--it had no proof--was ignored. The aborted search for the source of the rifle bullets was left from the Report and the search appears to have been dropped when proof of reloaded ammunition was found.

In the Tippit case, speculation was converted into conclusions; in the assassination, evidence was abandoned in favor of speculation

With the assassination, the Commission decided upon the number of bullets fired on the basis, it said, of the testimony of the majority of witnesses. In the Tippit case, it preferred the testimony of but two remote witnesses to that of an overwhelming majority.

In the Tippit case, the Commission found a needle of fact-in its haystack of confusion. It would not pick up the needle. Its own time reconstruction proved Oswald could not possibly have shot Tippit. It got but a single meaningful description of the criminal, from Benavides. That description included identifiable characteristics that eliminated Oswald. Benavides was the only person close to the killing. He was the only one not taken to a police lineup. This meant nothing to the Commission.

The testimony the Commission preferred was of the most dubious credibility. Its major witness tenaciously swore falsely about material points. But like the police, the Commission had a bird in hand. Even if it was a crow, the Commission was willing to eat it.

There is much more that can be said about the total incredibility of the reconstruction of the Tippit case. However, it is not the purpose of this book to mimic the Report and swamp the reader in a sea of unnecessary detail. Yet there remains one conspicuous consideration which should have been pondered by the Report but was not.

If Oswald had shot both the President and Tippit, the one time he was really clear began within a minute or two of the second shooting. He had left $170.00 in Irving; he had $14.00 with him. He was unseen for almost a half-hour. When he had made his getaway, so far as he knew and the evidence shows, why should he have bottled himself up in the blind alley of a theater?

The answer of the Report is that he wanted to get caught. Then why run?

One hour and twenty-one minutes after the first shot rang out in Dealey Plaza, the dead President was being readied for return to Washington, the Governor was in the first stage of the three-part surgery that saved his life, and Lee Harvey Oswald was in the hands of the police, where he was to lose his life. Nine minutes before 2 p.m., he was in the rear seat of a police car on his way to police headquarters, his hands shackled behind his back and his pockets unsearched. At that moment, the entire nature of the case and the responsibilities of the Commission had already changed.

Until now we have reviewed the assassination and much of the tangible evidence the police agencies and the Commission related to it. We began with the alleged assassin the night before the crime and the victim from his awakening the morning of his assassination. Step by step we have retraced the Commission's information on the crime. Now the alleged criminal is in custody. Now the law and public authority are center stage. This is a new act of the drama. Oswald is no longer only a suspect. He is now a prisoner. He is no longer in real or fancied flight; he is to be subject to American justice.

The Commission, in reconstructing the crimes, manages to prove the only suspect could not have committed them. The several chapters of the next section of this book will spotlight what happened to Oswald during the less than two days he was a police prisoner. The Commission looked at this unprecedented performance which had ended in 451/2 hours with the murder of Oswald. At that moment, all opportunities for a legal solution to the assassination ended. With no one to take into court, there could be no trial. And with the interment of Oswald's body, the only then known source of information about the crimes was also buried. Oswald was and remains the lone suspect.

In turning our attention to what happened to Oswald while he was in the hands of public authority, our focus may seem to be on the police, his custodians. However, because this is an analysis of the Report, the ensuing chapters relate also to the Commission. Through its Report the Commission was to reveal everything it could learn about the assassination. Those last 45 ½ hours of Oswald's life therefore, become a most important means of appraising both the police, who were charged with the solution of the crimes, and the Commission and its Report.