Reclaiming History (51 page)

1:00 a.m.

While Bill Alexander and some police detectives were going over the names and backgrounds of Oswald’s coworkers at the Book Depository Building before midnight, the name Joe Molina, the credit manager at the Depository, came up. It immediately “rang a bell” with Alexander. “He was a known, card-carrying Communist—at that time there were damn few Communists in Dallas, and they actually carried cards on them—that I knew from a big publicity murder case I had prosecuted a year or so earlier,” Alexander would later recall. “Because of the publicity, the defense made a motion for a change of venue and Molina testified for the defense that the defendant couldn’t get a fair trial in Dallas. We had no evidence of any connections between Molina and Oswald except the Book Depository Building and their Communist Party affiliation.”

Alexander proceeds to prepare a search warrant for Molina’s house, gets Judge Johnston to sign it, and “since Fritz’s boys were busy” goes to serve the warrant with Captain Pat Gannaway, the head of the Special Services Bureau, and a few of his men, including Lieutenant Jack Revill, who is in charge of the criminal intelligence section that, among other things, investigates subversive activities. Molina, a short, stocky, and prematurely graying man of forty, lives in a small home close to downtown Dallas with his wife and four kids, one of whom is adopted. Alexander and his people arrive around one in the morning, and the loud knocking on the door at this hour scares Soledad, Molina’s wife, half to death. The whole family, asleep in the two-bedroom home, was awakened. Joe comes to the door in his pajamas and is served with the warrant. Alexander doesn’t say what this is all about but Molina assumes it has some connection with the assassination because of his employment at the Depository.

“Joe,” Alexander says, “go back to bed. We won’t ransack the house.” “Go ahead and look around,” Molina said, indicating he had nothing to hide. But before Joe can get back in bed, Gannaway and Revill have other plans and, during the search, question Molina about his acquaintanceship with Oswald (he has seen him at work, but is not acquainted with him and has never spoken to him) and the political affiliation of members of the GI Forum, a local veterans group Molina, a navy vet, belonged to that had several other known Communist members. Molina says he doesn’t know the political affiliation of the members of the group, but declines to write a statement to that effect. The search of Molina’s house will continue for two hours.
¹⁰¹³

1:10 a.m.

In the basement assembly room, remarkably, Henry Wade is still held captive by an inquisitive collection of reporters. Judge David Johnston has joined him.

“Does he have a lawyer?”

“I don’t know whether he has or not,” Wade says.

“Does he appear sane to you?”

“Yes, he does,” Wade replies firmly.

“Is he a member of any Communist-front organization?”

“That I couldn’t tell you at the present time,” Wade says.

“Any organizations that he belongs to that you know of?” a reporter hollers.

“Well,” the district attorney answers, “the only one I mentioned was the Free Cuba movement or whatever that—”

Ruby, recalling what he heard on the radio earlier, shouts out a correction from the back of the room, “Fair Play for Cuba Committee.” Wade, surprised at getting a correction from his audience, recognizes the man in the horn-rimmed glasses and slicked black hair as someone he’s seen around, but thinks he must be a journalist of some sort.

“Fair Play for Cuba, I believe it was,” Wade continues, acknowledging the correction.

“Why do you think he wanted to kill the president?”

“The only thing I do,” Wade tells the throng, “is take the evidence, present it to a jury, and I don’t pass on why he did it or anything else. We…we’re just interested in proving that he did it, which I think we have.”
¹⁰¹⁴

“Are you planning to charge anyone else in this at all at this moment?”

“As of this moment,” Wade says, “we are not.”

“Are you looking for any other suspects at all now that you’ve got—”

“Well, we’re always looking for other suspects,” Wade shoots back, “but we have none at present.”

“Henry, do you think this is part of [a] Communist conspiracy?”

The question cuts at the district attorney’s nerves.

“I can’t say that,” he answers diplomatically.

“Well, do you have any reason to believe that it might be?” the reporter pursues.

“No,” Wade answers, “I don’t have any reason to believe either way on it.”

“Has he said under questioning that he is either a Communist or a Communist sympathizer?”

“I don’t know whether he has or not,” Wade replies.

“Can you say whether you have a witness who says he saw the man pull the trigger?”

“No, I cannot,” Wade answers carefully.

“What was the result of the paraffin test?” someone asks.

“I am not going into the evidence here,” Wade says.

There is some continuing confusion over whether Oswald has been advised of the charge in the assassination. Judge David Johnston, standing behind Wade, steps forward to try to clear up any misunderstanding.

“He has not been advised,” Johnston says.

“He has been charged?”

“He has not been arraigned on the second charge,” Johnston says.

“No, but has he been charged?” the reporter presses.

“Yes,” the judge replies, “he is formally charged.”

The reporters question when the arraignment for the assassination will take place, but both Wade and Johnston seem uncertain. They imagine sometime that night, then suggest that it might be morning before Oswald is arraigned.
¹⁰¹⁵
Wade continues to answer questions for a few more minutes, but has little to add to what he has already said.

“Mr. Wade, was he under any kind of federal surveillance because of his background prior to today, today’s events?”

Wade, no doubt thinking of Jack Revill’s memo, prefers not to open that can of worms. “None that I know of. We didn’t have any knowledge—We didn’t have any information on him. When I say we, being the Dallas police or the Dallas sheriff’s office.”
¹⁰¹⁶

Several questions return to the issue of whether this was an organized plot or just one man out to get the president.

“We don’t know that answer,” Wade replies. “He’s the only one we have.”

“Are you willing to say whether you think this man was inspired as a Communist or whether he is simply a nut or a middleman?”

“I’ll put it this way,” Wade says. “I don’t think he’s a nut.”
¹⁰¹⁷

1:20 a.m.

After Wade’s press conference, he continues to be interviewed by individual reporters outside the basement assembly room, and Jack Ruby persists in his pursuit of Joe Long, who mysteriously remains elusive to Ruby. But Jack finally manages to get the control room number of the station from two reporters, Jerry Cunkle and Sam Pease, who worked for rival KBOX. Calling the control room, he’s shuttled to Glenn Duncan in the newsroom, whom he tells, “I have sandwiches for you. I want to get over there,” and then adds, “By the way, I see Henry Wade talking on the phone to someone. Do you want me to get him over here?”

“Yes, do that.”

“Just a second, he’s talking to someone from New York. I’ll get him.”

He goes over, collars the district attorney, and brings him back to the phone, not even telling him what station it is.

The newsman at KLIF is elated over scoring the brief interview, and tells Ruby he can “only leave the door open for five minutes.”

On the way out, Ruby spots Russ Knight of KLIF with a tape recorder. Glenn Duncan rushed him over from the station a few blocks away to get another interview with the district attorney—they didn’t get the first one on the phone on tape, and Duncan wants something for the morning news. Ruby, only too happy to oblige, takes Knight to Wade.

“Ask him if Oswald is insane,” Ruby suggests to Knight.

“Okay,” Knight says. “That’s a point well taken.”

Ruby introduces them.

“Oh,” Wade says, recognizing Knight’s name, “you’re the Weird Beard!”

Knight cringes a little—his on-the-air persona is great for the kids who have made him the top-rated DJ in Dallas, but it sounds just a mite foolish here.

Wade obliges Knight with an interview and tells Knight that Oswald is not insane. His brutal act was entirely premeditated. While Knight is interviewing Wade, Ruby leaves for the station three blocks away. But arranging the interview with Henry Wade for Russ Knight delayed Ruby beyond the five-minute window he’d been offered, and he finds the door to the KLIF studios locked when he gets there, so he waits, with Sheba, for Knight to get back.
¹⁰¹⁸

1:30 a.m.

Wade and Judge Johnston finally escape the persistent journalists and make their way back to the third-floor homicide office. On the way, the district attorney tells Johnston that they should arraign Oswald on the Kennedy killing immediately. When the pair get to Captain Fritz’s office, they confer with Chief Curry, Captain Fritz, and Assistant DA Maurice Harrell.
¹⁰¹⁹
It may be approaching the middle of the night but with all the activity one would never know it. Curry agrees that Oswald should be arraigned on the murder charge regarding the president’s death soon. The U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled that a prisoner must be arraigned and informed of the charges against him as soon as possible. Curry doesn’t want anyone saying that they haven’t followed the law.

Curry picks up the phone and calls the jail supervisor, Sergeant Warren.

“Bring Oswald back down to the fourth-floor ID bureau,” he says. “We’ll meet you there.”
¹⁰²⁰

Oswald has been asleep,
*
though not for very long, when Sergeant Warren awakens him.

“What’s going on?” Oswald says angrily, half asleep.

“I’ve got my orders from the chief,” the jail supervisor says. “He says to bring you down to ID again.”

The man who would arguably become the most famous murderer in history, as well as the most consequential one, doesn’t bother to protest. He swings his legs to the floor and holds his wrists out in front of him as the cuffs are snapped in place. Sergeant Warren and jailer Tommy Todd escort him toward the stairway.
¹⁰²¹

1:35 a.m.

Oswald and his escorts emerge from the stairwell into the fourth-floor jail office. A half-dozen police officials are standing behind the counter when Oswald arrives. He purses his lips and surveys the familiar faces.

Judge David Johnston stands squarely behind the counter, with complaint number F-154, the Kennedy murder charge, in his hand. The men grouped around him are some of the top brass of Dallas law enforcement: Captain Fritz, Chief Curry, Assistant Deputy Chief M. W. Stevenson, District Attorney Henry Wade, and Assistant District Attorney Maurice Harrell. A few Identification Bureau officers who happen to be on duty, including crime-lab lieutenant Carl Day, hover nearby.
¹⁰²²

“Well, I guess this is the trial,” Oswald sneers sarcastically.

“No sir,” Judge Johnston replies, “I have to arraign you on another offense.”

For the second time this night, Johnston advises Oswald of his constitutional right to remain silent and warns him that any statement he makes may be used in evidence against him. Then, Johnston reads the complaint to Oswald, that “Lee Harvey Oswald, hereinafter styled Defendant, heretofore on or about the twenty-second day of November, 1963, in the County of Dallas and State of Texas, did then and there unlawfully, voluntarily, and with malice aforethought kill John F. Kennedy by shooting him with a gun against the peace and dignity of the State.”
¹⁰²³

“Oh, that’s the deal, is it,” Oswald says. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
¹⁰²⁴

Johnston ignores the comment and advises Oswald of his right to an attorney.

“I want Mr. John Abt of New York,” Oswald demands, spelling the name out. “A-B-T.”

“You’ll be given the opportunity to contact any attorney you wish,” Judge Johnston answers calmly. “Bond is denied on this capital offense. I hereby remand you to the custody of the sheriff of Dallas County, Texas.”
¹⁰²⁵

In ten minutes it is over. Lee Harvey Oswald has been formally arraigned on the charge of assassinating the president of the United States. Chief Curry, who has seen little of Oswald in the course of the evening, is not impressed by his truculence and arrogance. Curry nods to the jailers, who spin and take the prisoner back upstairs to his fifth-floor cell.
¹⁰²⁶

1:50 a.m.

Most of Dallas is asleep when Ruby finally enters the KLIF building after Russ Knight gets back from City Hall and opens the door. Several of the guys on duty are glad to see Jack’s big paper sack full of corned beef sandwiches and soft drinks. “I figured you guys would be hungry,” Jack tells them, “and I brought these up for you.” Knight and DJ Danny McCurdy were intrigued by Doctor Black’s celery tonic in its peculiarly shaped bottle and expensive-looking gold foil, which neither of them had ever seen before. Whoever heard of a soft drink with celery in it? Jack explains that it’s something you normally get only in New York and is especially pleased when McCurdy thinks it’s the best soft drink he’s ever had.

Five minutes later Jack has worked his way into the control room, where he chats with McCurdy between announcements while Duncan and Knight get the two o’clock news ready.

Jack appreciates the way the station has switched from Top Forty to album music—easy listening, McCurdy calls it. Ruby is pale and keeps looking at the floor. McCurdy is feeling awfully low himself and thinks little of it.

“I’m closing my club down this weekend,” Jack tells him morosely. “I’d rather lose twelve or fifteen hundred this weekend than not be able to live with myself later on.” He gives McCurdy a card for the Carousel Club. McCurdy already has one Ruby gave him some time back, one with a picture of one of the strippers on it.

Ike Pappas comes in with a lot of tapes he wants to relay back to WNEW in New York, and the KLIF guys are happy to let him use their facilities. Pappas also gets one of the corned beef sandwiches, but is so busy with his work he never sees Ruby.