The attic room sat empty except for the newspaper—today’s newspaper. Picking up the dust-laden newspaper, he found that he had read it right. It was indeed today’s date.
Not only was it today’s newspaper, but it was also the evening edition. A paper that wouldn’t come out until several hours from now. An experienced news reporter, he knew the rigors involved in putting out two papers daily. The final deadline for the afternoon paper was two hours away.
He was acting on a tip that a vital witness was ready to talk to the press and tell their side of the story. His instructions were to meet them in the arctic room of the rooming house on the wrong side of town. But no one was there, only layers of dust upon layers of dust—nothing except the newspaper.
Shutting the door behind him, Sam Small headed for the front desk. The clerk who had been sleeping when he came in was still dead to the world. Sam leaned against the counter and hit the small bell sitting near the sign-in book. It chimed twice. No movement.
Ignoring the old man sleeping, he turned the sign-in book around so he could read it. He scanned the names, and one name jumped out at him. Shit! Glancing at his watch, he realized he still had time to get there.
Traffic heading into Dealey Plaza was tied up, but as a lifelong resident of Dallas, he knew an alternate route into the area. He parked off the Plaza, used an offside entrance to the book depository, and ran up the stairs.
He could feel his heart racing and his pulse quicken as he hit the seventh-floor landing. His breathing became labored as he panted heavily, pausing at the top of the landing to catch his breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he checked his watch. 12: 27.
The roar of the crowd outside told him he was early but was he in time? It seemed like forever as he found his way through the maze of boxes and other warehouse stuff scattered on the floor. Finally, he made it to the northeast corner of the Texas School Book Depository. In the shadows of the boxes was a figure kneeling and looking out the open window.
“NOOOO!” Sam shouted, and Lee Harvey Oswald turned and fired at him.
As Sam Small’s world turned black, the President’s motorcade went through Dealey Plaza to the roar of the crowds.
Not only was it today’s newspaper, but it was also the evening edition. A paper that wouldn’t come out until several hours from now. An experienced news reporter, he knew the rigors involved in putting out two papers daily. The final deadline for the afternoon paper was two hours away.
He was acting on a tip that a vital witness was ready to talk to the press and tell their side of the story. His instructions were to meet them in the arctic room of the rooming house on the wrong side of town. But no one was there, only layers of dust upon layers of dust—nothing except the newspaper.
Shutting the door behind him, Sam Small headed for the front desk. The clerk who had been sleeping when he came in was still dead to the world. Sam leaned against the counter and hit the small bell sitting near the sign-in book. It chimed twice. No movement.
Ignoring the old man sleeping, he turned the sign-in book around so he could read it. He scanned the names, and one name jumped out at him. Shit! Glancing at his watch, he realized he still had time to get there.
Traffic heading into Dealey Plaza was tied up, but as a lifelong resident of Dallas, he knew an alternate route into the area. He parked off the Plaza, used an offside entrance to the book depository, and ran up the stairs.
He could feel his heart racing and his pulse quicken as he hit the seventh-floor landing. His breathing became labored as he panted heavily, pausing at the top of the landing to catch his breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he checked his watch. 12: 27.
The roar of the crowd outside told him he was early but was he in time? It seemed like forever as he found his way through the maze of boxes and other warehouse stuff scattered on the floor. Finally, he made it to the northeast corner of the Texas School Book Depository. In the shadows of the boxes was a figure kneeling and looking out the open window.
“NOOOO!” Sam shouted, and Lee Harvey Oswald turned and fired at him.
As Sam Small’s world turned black, the President’s motorcade went through Dealey Plaza to the roar of the crowds.
