Legacy of Secrecy (117 page)

than fifty miles] east of Memphis,” as he had been doing every Thursday

for at least two years. McFerren had originally begun making the long

drives to Memphis to buy his supplies almost eight years earlier, when

white merchants in his small county had refused to sell to black store

owners. As recounted in
Time
magazine in 1960 and 1961, the situation

came about after McFerren had been one of the leaders of an effort to

increase black voting in the county, after white officials had “turned

away every one of the . . . Negroes who tried to vote,” even though the

county was majority black.16

The following is based on an FBI report that included a detailed

account of William Sartor’s first interview with McFerren, later the basis

for a shorter 1968 article in
Time
magazine. McFerren said that on April

4, “as he walked through the doorway he heard a man’s voice from an

office just off the hall. ‘The man was screaming and I could hear his voice

before I got inside. . . . I just stopped inside the doorway and listened for

a moment . . . .outside the office where this man was screaming.’”17

The man McFerren later identified as Frank C. Liberto “kept scream-

ing over the phone: ‘Kill him. Kill him. I don’t care how you do it. Kill

the son of a bitch on the balcony.’” Another man, walking up the hall,

noticed McFerren “and told me to go on inside the food locker and

help myself.” McFerren says he made sure he “obediently shuffled off,”

playing the “acquiescent [role] he adopted years ago for self-protection”

584

LEGACY OF SECRECY

when dealing with white businessmen. But “as he was leaving the [food]

locker four or five minutes later, the phone in [Liberto’s] office rang

again.” A man with a scar answered it and passed it to Liberto, who

“was in no mood for further talk.”18

Frank Liberto “sat with both feet on the desk and growled: ‘Don’t

call me no more. And don’t come near my place. You know my brother

in New Orleans—he’ll give you the $5,000. Don’t bring your ass near

my place again.’” McFerren says that Frank C. Liberto “slammed the

phone down without waiting for a reply.” John McFerren “made out

like I didn’t hear what he said. . . . Every time I go in there I play like

I’m hard of hearing. . . . I went up and paid my bill and left. . . . I didn’t

want to stay around there.”19

In 1978, Frank C. Liberto briefly affirmed his role in King’s murder to

someone he trusted. Each morning for the past year, the aging, extremely

overweight Liberto had stopped once, sometimes twice, a day at a Mem-

phis restaurant run by LaVada Whitlock Addison. He came in every

workday for breakfast, and sometimes had a “beer or two” in the after-

noon. According to Addison’s sworn testimony, as described by Ray’s

last attorney William Pepper, Liberto “developed a friendship of sorts

with [her] and he would occasionally be candid with her and her son,”

who would listen to Frank C. Liberto’s complaints about his wife and

mistress. Sometimes Addison would even “sit down at the table” to

chat with Liberto. “On one occasion she recalled that something about

the King assassination came on the television and Liberto calmly com-

mented, partly to Mrs. [Addison] and partly to no one in particular, ‘I

had Martin Luther King killed.’ Startled, she responded instantly . . .

saying, ‘Don’t tell me such things,’ and ‘I don’t believe it anyway.’”20

However, Mrs. Addison was apparently concerned enough to tell her

son about the conversation. According to her son’s sworn testimony as

recounted by Pepper, he confronted Frank C. Liberto one afternoon at

the restaurant, and Liberto responded by saying, “I didn’t kill the nigger

but I had it done.” The son left for Canada soon afterward. While Addi-

son’s and her son’s accounts would not become public for more than

a decade after 1978, the HSCA questioned Liberto about the McFerren

report that same year. Frank C. Liberto denied having had anything to

do with Dr. King’s assassination; he died later that year, apparently of

natural causes.21 Pepper also noted an FBI report that described how

in the weeks before James Earl Ray had left Los Angeles, a man calling

himself “J. C. Hardin” had left messages about contacting Ray with the

manager of the St. Francis Hotel—the Los Angeles hotel to which Ray

had delivered drugs after his return from Mexico. The FBI was never

able to identify “Hardin,” meaning the name was probably an alias,

and Pepper pointed out that “Hardin” was Liberto’s mother’s maiden

name.22

The Justice Department memo about Frank C. Liberto, based on Sar-

tor’s sources including a “protégé of Marcello,” also said:

. . . the original plan was that Ray would be arrested immediately

after the shooting, tried, and acquitted. There was a change, how-

ever, perhaps as late as an hour before the shooting, due to a mix-up

involving the money. Either the Mafia wanted him at large until the

balance of the price was paid or, more likely, says Sartor, the shares

of those in Memphis (Liberto and others) had not been paid, and it

was they who wanted Ray at large [for leverage].23

The Justice Department memo also indicates why a Memphis police-

man might have been involved. Sartor said that “information possessed

by former [Memphis] Mayor Ingram concerning corruption in the Police

Department suggests that” one or more “officers may have known of

or participated in the conspiracy—because they were bribed or feared

exposure.” As likely happened with Officer J. D. Tippit in Dallas, any

Memphis officer involved wouldn’t have been fully aware of the plot—

only told or manipulated to be at a certain place at a certain time to take,

or not take, certain action. However, we still agree with the HSCA con-

clusion that no evidence has yet surfaced proving any Memphis officer’s

involvement. In fact, so many officers were in Dr. King’s vicinity that it

would have been difficult for one, two, or more to have done anything

unusual without calling attention to themselves.24

Frank C. Holloman was one of the Memphis police officials who was

investigated closely and cleared by Rep. Stokes and the HSCA. Hollo-

man was the Fire and Police Director for the city of Memphis, and on

April 4, 1968, he was trying to get Martin Luther King to leave Mem-

phis. Years later, Holloman had attracted suspicion from some writers

because in the late 1950s he had been an assistant to J. Edgar Hoover in

Washington, D.C., before heading the Atlanta FBI office at the start of

its anti-King activities.25

On April 4, Holloman testified in court on behalf of the city of Mem-

phis as they tried to maintain the injunction against Dr. King’s demon-

stration. Holloman told the court that not only had “white citizens of

Memphis” written and called him to say they were “greatly agitated,”

586

LEGACY OF SECRECY

but also that “there was a theft from a sporting good store last evening of

guns and ammunition.” Often overlooked by many writers, but pointed

out by Taylor Branch, is that in open court Holloman cited “numerous

threats that King would not survive” his demonstration in Memphis.26

Holloman was extremely concerned that another riot might be trig-

gered in the still-recovering downtown area, and from the stand he

rattled off “fourteen reasons why the march would endanger the half-

million citizens in his charge,” since he was “convinced that Dr. Martin

Luther King, his leaders, or others cannot control a massive march of this

kind.” Memphis was a powder keg at the time, and would logically face

another riot if Dr. King were attacked there. Holloman’s career would

be enhanced by stopping a riot, not starting one—hence his testimony

that fateful day. After much investigation, the HSCA found misjudg-

ments on Holloman’s part, but no deliberate involvement in Dr. King’s

murder.27

The HSCA looked into two other incidents involving the police earlier

that day, and found that the situations weren’t as suspicious as some

of Ray’s attorneys had claimed. One event was the removal that day of

black undercover officer Ed Redditt from his Fire Station 2 surveillance

post across from the Lorraine Motel, and the other was the reassignment

of the only two black firemen at the station. After investigating, Stokes

and the HSCA concluded that “Redditt was removed because his supe-

rior perceived real danger to his safety.” That day, Redditt received “a

threatening phone call” at the firehouse, in addition to “another threat

Redditt had received at the airport,” and yet another threat transmit-

ted to Memphis authorities by a Senate investigator. Moreover, even

Redditt’s removal still left another black undercover policeman on duty

at the fire station. Redditt’s removal was not part of any big conspiracy

involving the Memphis police, but we don’t rule out the possibility that

someone outside the force made one or more of those threats to get Red-

ditt away from Dr. King.28

Likewise, the HSCA determined that the removal of the only two

black firemen at the fire station was not part of a conspiracy. Ironically,

the HSCA concluded that the firemen’s transfers “were made . . . out of

a concern for the security of the surveillance post [and] Redditt himself

was the person who initiated the request.” The Memphis police were

worried that the firemen, one of whom was “very sympathetic with the

strike,” might blow Redditt’s cover.29

As 6:00 PM approached, the police forces near Dr. King were con-

siderable. The HSCA found “53 to 66 law enforcement officers [were]

within a mile of the Lorraine Motel,” including six tactical (or “tact”)

units, each with three or four vehicles, designed “to respond to any

disorder or emergency.” By 6:00 PM, one of those tact units, with twelve

officers, “was on a rest break at Fire Station 2.” The fire station was

about fifty yards from the Lorraine Motel. One officer was even closer:

“Marrell McCullough, an undercover officer who was in the Lorraine

parking lot,” as a member of the Invaders militant group that had been

negotiating with Dr. King and his men.30

Chapter Fifty

In a first-floor room at the Lorraine Motel, Martin Luther King was

buoyed when Andrew Young returned from court to report that the

hearing seemed to have gone well. The tension and fear of the previous

night were gone, as four of King’s men playfully attacked Young with

pillows for not having kept Dr. King better informed throughout the

day. Around 5:30 PM, their attorney arrived to say the march had been

approved with conditions that satisfied King. As described by Taylor

Branch, these included “a prescribed route, no weapons, and narrow

ranks [so] the marshals [could] keep the spectators away.”1

That began a fresh round of discussion among Dr. King and his men,

about planning sessions scheduled over the weekend to finalize Mon-

day’s march, which soon ended so they could begin preparing for dinner.

Dr. King and Ralph David Abernathy headed up to King’s room at 5:40

PM. Once there, King pressed Abernathy to find a way to be in Washing-

ton on April 29 for the start of the lobbying portion of the Poor People’s

Campaign. They were soon joined by local Reverend Billy Kyles, who

was hosting Dr. King for a home-cooked dinner that night.2

Downstairs shortly before 6:00 PM, Andrew Young and Jesse Jackson

stepped out of their room, where Jackson had been leading a musical

group, the Breadbasket Band. Dr. King went outside and leaned over

the railing, calling out for Jackson “to come to dinner with me,” but

Kyles said that Jackson had already been invited. Jesse Jackson looked

up from the parking lot and pointed out to Dr. King his group’s saxo-

phonist, Ben Branch.3

Martin Luther King recognized Branch, saying, “He’s my man. . . .

Ben, I want you to play my favorite song, ‘Precious Lord, Take My

Hand.’”4

Seconds later, a loud
CRACK
that sounded like a firecracker shattered

the hopes and dreams of millions. It was 6:01 PM.

The 30.06 slug tore through the right side of Dr. King’s face, severing

his spine and throwing him backward. As he lay on the ground, one

foot stuck through the balcony railing, Abernathy tried to comfort the

dying man, saying, “Martin—it’s all right. This is Ralph. Martin, can

you hear me?”5

In the Lorraine Motel parking lot, volunteer driver Solomon Jones had

just begun talking to Dr. King when the shot rang out. Andrew Young

and another aide immediately pushed Jones to the ground. According

to one account, an FBI report said that “to Andrew Young . . . the sound

was a firecracker and it came from the bushes above the retaining wall

across the street from the motel.” The HSCA found that “others in the

courtyard, including Ben Branch and Jesse Jackson . . . believed that