When he is brought from the theater, a crowd is waiting to scream at him.
Lee Oswald must have felt like Joseph K. in Kafka’s The Trial.
He’s never given reasons for his arrest.
He doesn’t know the unseen forces ranging against him.
At police headquarters, he was booked for murdering Tippet.
No legal counsel was provided.
No record made of the questioning.
When the sun rises the next morning, he is booked for murdering the President.
The whole country, fueled by the media, assumes he is guilty.
Under the guise of a patriotic club owner out to spare Jackie Kennedy from testifying at a trial, Jack Ruby is let into a garage by one of his inside men on the police force.
Oswald is brought out like a sacrificial lamb and nicely disposed of as an enemy of the people.
Who grieves for Lee Harvey Oswald, buried in a cheap grave under the name Oswald?
Nobody.
False statements and press leaks about Oswald circulate the globe.
The official legend is created and the media takes it from there.
The glitter of official lies and the epic splendor of JFK’s funeral confuse the eye and confound the understanding.
Hitler said: “The bigger the lie, the more people will believe it.”
Lee Harvey Oswald, a crazed, lonely man who wanted attention… and got it by killing a President was only the first in a long line of patsies.
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