The Crowd

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Who was standing there

One policeman in the motorcade made his decision in about three seconds. Marrion Baker was riding a motorcycle on Houston Street when the shots came. He saw pigeons come off the roof of the Depository and he rode straight for the building. Not the knoll, where almost everyone else went. The one man who went to the right building went there because he was watching birds.^{1, 2}

When her husband was hit, Nellie Connally pulled him down into her lap and held him there. She testified that she did it to keep him from being hit again, and that she never looked back at the President because she was busy. Her account of the shot sequence is one of the clearest in the record, and it comes from someone who spent those seconds looking at nothing but a wounded man in her arms.^{3, 4}

There were four agents on the running boards of the follow-up car, not one. Clint Hill is the one everybody knows because he made it. The others were on the far side, or a half-second slower, or reaching for a weapon instead of a handhold. In three seconds the difference between a name history remembers and three it does not was which board a man happened to be standing on.^{5, 6}

Not everyone who was standing in the right place came away with anything. Several people in Dealey Plaza had cameras in their hands and never pressed the shutter, because the whole thing took under six seconds and they were watching rather than working. The photographic record of this event is not the record of who was there. It is the record of who reacted fastest.^{7, 8}

†The best witness to the window did not immediately confirm his own account. Howard Brennan gave police a description within minutes, then failed to pick the suspect out of a line-up that evening. He said later he had been frightened for his family. Months afterwards he told the Warren Commission he had been sure all along. Both of those things are on the record, and which one you weight more heavily changes what his testimony is worth.^{9, 10}

There were people watching from the County Records Building across Houston Street with a clear view of the Depository’s upper floors. Their accounts of what they saw in those windows vary from nothing at all to a man moving. Not one of them thought it worth mentioning until after the shooting, because until then it was a man in an office window on a working Friday.¹¹

Among several hundred people on those sidewalks there were nurses, doctors, veterans. People who had seen catastrophic injury before and knew instantly what they were looking at. Several of them said afterwards that they knew from the first second that the wound was not survivable. The car went to Parkland at eighty miles an hour anyway, because that is what you do.^{12, 13}

Several hundred people were in Dealey Plaza. The Warren Commission took testimony or statements from a fraction of them. Many were never formally interviewed at all, and some only told their story decades later to documentary crews, by which time memory had done what memory does. The record of this event is not everyone who was there. It is everyone somebody thought to ask.^{14, 15}

†Ask a plaza full of people how many shots they heard and you do not get one answer. Most said three. A substantial number said two. Some said four, some five, a few said one. In a concrete bowl surrounded by buildings, with a rifle and echoes and six seconds of panic, that spread is exactly what you would expect. Witness counts are not a tally. They are a measure of how confusing it was.^{16, 17}

†In the photographs taken seconds after the shots, people are pointing. In several of them people on the grass are pointing, and a lot of them are pointing up the slope toward the fence. Others point at the building. A pointing arm in a photograph is not ballistics, and echo in that plaza is severe. But it is the closest thing we have to what several hundred people believed before anyone told them what to believe.^{18, 19}

The people on those sidewalks were not a rally. It was twelve thirty on a Friday, and most of them were office workers, store clerks and secretaries who had come out on their lunch break to see a President go past and then go back to work. The crowd in Dealey Plaza was thin compared to Main Street, because it was the end of the route and people had already drifted back inside.^{20, 21}

Several families brought small children to watch. The Newman boys were four and two. Charles Brehm’s son was five. Rosemary Willis was ten and running alongside the car. Schools had let pupils out to see the motorcade. A significant part of the crowd in the most examined sixty seconds in history was children, and most of them are still alive.^{22, 23}

Several hundred people stood in Dealey Plaza that minute. A few dozen gave statements. The rest went back to work, went home, and never told an investigator anything. Some told their families for years. Some never spoke about it at all. The largest group of eyewitnesses to the assassination of an American President is the group nobody ever wrote down.^{14, 24}

Some of the closest witnesses worked in the building. Employees came down and stood on the front steps and the sidewalk outside to watch the car go by. They are in photographs, looking out at Elm Street, while six floors above them a window was open. Being nearest to something is not the same as knowing anything about it, and this plaza proves that over and over.^{25, 26}

There is a habit of reading the crowd in those photographs as tense. They were not. People are smiling, waving, holding children up, taking snapshots. Somebody is eating lunch on a wall. The single most important thing to understand about every account from that plaza is that every one of them was formed by somebody who, one second earlier, had been having a nice time.^{27, 28}

Look down Elm in the films and the sidewalks empty out as the car goes west. By the last stretch before the underpass there are only scattered figures on the grass. The President was hit at the point where there were fewest people to see it, not because anybody arranged that, but because the route ended there and crowds gather where routes begin.^{29, 30}

The thing that stands out in the aftermath photographs is not the people running away. It is how many ran toward the car and up the slope. Ordinary people with no training, no weapon and no idea where the shots came from, moving in the direction of gunfire within seconds. It is the most consistently overlooked fact about that crowd.^{18, 31}

The plaza did not empty. People stayed on that grass for hours, standing in small groups, waiting for something. Photographs from late that afternoon show them still there in coats as the light goes. Nobody had told them to go and nobody had told them anything else either, and there was nowhere to be that felt right.³²

For the people who worked around that plaza it did not become a historical site. It stayed the walk to the office. The Records Building, the courthouse, the Depository itself. Hundreds of people went back on Monday and crossed that lawn twice a day for years, past the tourists, to jobs that had nothing to do with any of it.³³

Count the people who produced usable imagery of the assassination itself. A dress manufacturer. A book-keeper. A housewife. A thirteen-year-old girl. A retired air force major. An engineer. Not one of them was working. The visual record of the defining event of the century was made entirely by people who had brought a camera to watch a parade.^{34, 35}

The man nobody could ask

†One witness in this case had a problem none of the others had. Ed Hoffman had been deaf since infancy. He could not speak, he signed, and in 1963 there was no reliable way for a man like him to walk into a police station and be understood. He was twenty-seven years old and he had driven out to the freeway that lunchtime to watch the motorcade go past, which is how he came to be standing on an embankment looking down into the plaza.^{36, 37}

†His account is specific. From up there, he says, he could see over the stockade fence into the parking area behind it. He describes two men. One in a suit with a rifle, one in workman’s clothes. He says he saw a flash and smoke at the fence, saw the rifleman turn and toss the weapon to the second man, and saw that man break it down and put it in a bag and walk away along the railway. He then watched the plaza erupt below him.³⁸

†What he did next is the part that stays with me. He went to the Depository afterward and tried to communicate with police by gesture, and got nowhere. He told his father and an uncle, and by his account his family discouraged him, out of fear. He did not get a proper hearing until 1967, when the Bureau interviewed him with an interpreter, and he says the agent told him he must be mistaken. He was in his fifties before anybody really listened.^{39, 38}

Now the objections, and they are not trivial. He was a long way off, several hundred feet, at an angle, watching a busy plaza. Nothing at that distance is easy to be sure about. His account grew more detailed over the years rather than less, which is the pattern I keep warning you about. And everything he says had to pass through interpreters and, early on, through relatives. Those are three separate ways for a real memory to come out wrong.⁴⁰

So I do not think his account can carry weight as evidence of a second gunman, and I am not going to pretend otherwise. But the question it actually raises is a different one and it is worse. In November 1963 a man stood above that plaza believing he had seen something, and the machinery of the largest criminal investigation in American history had no way to take a statement from him. Whatever he saw or did not see, nobody could ask.⁴⁰

The cameras

There is a second film of the assassination, and it looks the other way. Orville Nix was a government maintenance worker standing on the south side of Elm, across the street from Zapruder. His camera points back at the knoll and the fence. Where Zapruder shows you the car, Nix shows you what was behind it. He sold the film to United Press for five thousand dollars. The original has been lost.^{41, 42, 43}

A third person was filming, and she did not come forward for two days. Marie Muchmore had brought her camera to see the President. Her film is short, shaky and out of focus in places, and it still catches the moment. She sold it to United Press for a reported one thousand dollars. Three cameras, three angles, one instant. And people still argue about all of it.^{44, 45}

One camera was pointed at the building itself, seconds before the shots. Robert Hughes stood at Main and Houston, filming the motorcade turning north. Behind it, filling the background, is the whole east face of the Depository, including the sixth-floor corner window. Analysts have argued for sixty years about whether there is movement in that window. What is not in doubt is that somebody filmed it, by accident, at almost exactly the right moment.^{46, 47}

A thirteen-year-old girl filmed the last corner the President ever turned. Tina Towner had been let out of school and stood with her parents at Elm and Houston with a home movie camera. Her film catches the hairpin turn, and runs out just before the shooting starts. It is the last moving picture of that car before everything in it changed. She stopped filming and put the camera down.^{48, 49}

One photograph in this plaza is a clock. Phil Willis was a retired Air Force major standing on Elm with his family. He testified that a shot startled him into pressing the shutter. Because his slide can be matched to a Zapruder frame, that reaction fixes one shot against the film’s own timeline. It is one of the very few places where a witness’s flinch is a measurable piece of evidence rather than a memory.^{50, 51, 52}

†In the Zapruder film there is a little girl in a red skirt running along the grass beside the car. She is Phil Willis’s daughter Rosemary, and she is ten years old. Then she stops. She stops suddenly, and she turns her head back toward the Depository. Researchers have used that turn for decades to argue about when the first shot was fired. She was a child running in a park, and she became a data point.^{53, 54, 55}

One man caught the building and the car in the same afternoon. Charles Bronson, a Dallas engineer, filmed the Depository minutes before the motorcade, then the shooting itself. His film sat unexamined in a bank vault until 1978. When it was finally studied, the FBI concluded the movement in the window was almost certainly not people. Fifteen years is a long time for a piece of evidence to sit in a drawer.^{56, 57}

Some people ran. One man walked straight to the sheriff’s office and gave away his camera. Hugh Betzner had taken photographs from the south side of Elm as the car came down. Within about half an hour he had handed the film over and given a sworn statement describing what he heard. His pictures place people and vehicles on the street at known instants. The most useful witness is often the one who did the dullest thing.^{58, 59}

The pictures that matter most are often the ones taken just after. Wilma Bond stood on the south side with color slides in her camera. She kept shooting after the shots, and her frames show the plaza emptying. People flat on the grass, people running up the knoll. She did not photograph the shooting. She photographed what everybody did next, which is how we know what they did.^{60, 61}

†Several people have said over the years that they filmed this and that their film was taken. A soldier on the knoll. A woman in a headscarf. Cameras taken by men who showed credentials. Not one of those films has ever been produced, and Dealey Plaza that minute is one of the most photographed places in history. Absence of a film is not proof that a film existed. It is just an absence.^{62, 63}

The police

A Dallas policeman was posted on top of the triple underpass with orders to keep unauthorized people off it. When the motorcade came he had a dozen or so railroad workers up there with him, because he had let them stay. That decision is the only reason we have any account at all from the one position with a clean, uninterrupted view of the whole street.^{64, 65}

Most of the Dallas force was working the route further back, where the crowds were, and at the Trade Mart where the President was going. Dealey Plaza was the end of the parade, thinning out, nearly done. There were a handful of officers in it. The place where it happened was the least policed part of the entire journey, because it was the part nobody was worried about.^{66, 67}

There was no building search along the route. It was not standard practice in 1963 to clear and post the windows overlooking a presidential motorcade, and nobody did it in Dallas. Hundreds of windows on four buildings around one corner, all of them open to whoever worked there. The single most consequential fact about the security that day is a procedure that did not yet exist.^{68, 69}

There was no command channel and no earpieces. Communication in that motorcade ran through police radios on motorcycles and in cars, on two shared channels, with everyone talking at once the moment the shooting started. Those recordings are now evidence in their own right. The best real-time record of the minutes after is a dispatcher trying to make sense of people shouting over each other.⁷⁰

By the time the shooting started, the police chief, the county sheriff and two Secret Service agents in the lead car were down near the underpass, facing forward. They had to stop, turn and come back. The senior law enforcement officers in the city spent the critical seconds driving away from it, which is nobody’s fault and is exactly how a motorcade works.^{71, 72}

For the first several minutes the police effort went behind the stockade fence and into the railroad yard. Officers climbed the knoll, went through the parking lot, searched the boxcars. That is where the crowd pointed and that is where the men went. The building the rifle was actually in was searched later, by deputies who had come from the sheriff’s office two blocks away.^{73, 2}

The Dallas County Sheriff’s Office is on Main Street, a couple of hundred feet from where the motorcade passed. Deputies had been told the presidential visit was not their assignment and to stay off the street. So a building full of trained officers stood on the sidewalk outside their own front door and watched, with no role and no radio. Within a minute of the shots they were running anyway.⁷⁴

Something valuable happened in the hours after. The Sheriff’s Office started taking written statements from anybody who would come in, and dozens of ordinary people walked up Main Street and wrote down what they had just seen. Those affidavits are the closest thing to uncontaminated testimony in this entire case, because they were written before anyone had read a newspaper about it.⁷⁵

Several officers who were in Dealey Plaza that minute never gave formal testimony to the Warren Commission. Not because anything was hidden, but because a small commission working fast interviewed the people whose accounts seemed to matter and stopped. Some of the men closest to the shooting are represented in the record by a single page written the same afternoon and nothing else.^{14, 76}

There is a detail in the photographs people miss. Bobby Hargis’s Harley is standing in the middle of Elm Street, on its stand, engine running, abandoned where he stepped off it. It appears in photograph after photograph of the aftermath. If you want one image for how fast everything happened, it is a police motorcycle left idling in an empty road.^{77, 78}

The Secret Service

The protective detail around that car was small by any modern standard. A driver and an agent in the front seat, a follow-up car with agents on the boards, and a handful of others spread along the trip. Presidential protection in 1963 was a few dozen people for the entire country. Everything about how a President travels today was rewritten because of what those men could not do in six seconds.⁷⁹

Standard practice put agents on the follow-up car rather than on the President’s own bumper, so the crowd’s view was not blocked. Twenty-five feet does not sound far until somebody has to cross it while a car is accelerating. Clint Hill crossed it in about three seconds and that was the fastest any human being could have done it. The formation, not the man, is what decided the outcome.^{80, 81, 23}

In the seconds after the first shot, the agents in the follow-up car look up, then left, then right, then behind them. Trained men, feet from the President, and their heads are going in four directions. In an echoing plaza nobody could locate the sound, and that is the honest answer to why nothing happened faster than it did.^{31, 6, 82}

There was an automatic rifle in the Secret Service follow-up car, and an agent picked it up in the seconds after the shots. He never had anything to aim at. That is the whole story of armed protection against a shot from a window: by the time you know there is a threat, the thing you are protecting has already been hit, and a weapon is of no use to anybody.^{82, 83}

Some of the agents on that detail had been out very late the night before in Fort Worth. Nine of them, at a place called the Cellar Coffee House, several until three in the morning and at least one until five, a few hours before they were due on the President. It came out afterwards, it was investigated, and the finding was that it made no difference to what happened. Nobody was disciplined. It is a fair thing to know and an unfair thing to hang on them, and both of those are true at once.^{84, 85}

The man driving was not young. Bill Greer was fifty-four, an Irish immigrant who had been a chauffeur before he was an agent, and he had driven for two Presidents. When the shots came he did what a driver does when something happens behind him: he turned to look. It was the wrong thing and it was completely human, and he knew it for the rest of his life.^{86, 82, 23}

The agent in charge in that car was Roy Kellerman, and his job in a crisis was to decide and say it out loud. He testified that he told the driver to get out of there, and got on the radio to the lead car for a hospital. Between the fatal shot and that instruction is a matter of seconds. Everything the Secret Service did right that day was done in the seconds after it no longer mattered.^{87, 88}

In the standard response an agent puts his body over the protectee. In that car, in those seconds, nobody was close enough to do it. The only person who reached him was his wife, and the only person who reached her was an agent who had run there on foot. The most protected man in the world was, at the decisive moment, alone in the back of an open car with his family.^{82, 81, 89}

Everything you now take for granted about how a President moves came out of this. Building surveys along routes, closed cars, agents on the bumper, controlled crowds, advance teams that clear windows. None of it was standard before Dealey Plaza. The reason no American President has ridden through a city in an open car since is 500 feet of road in Dallas.^{90, 91}

It is worth understanding what the detail was actually watching for. The threat model in 1963 was a person rushing the car. Someone breaking from the curb, a thrown object, a scuffle at close range. Every arrangement that day was built around that. Nobody was looking up, because the thing that happened was not the thing anyone was guarding against.⁹²

The plots before Dallas

Everything you have read in this book so far treats Dallas as the event. Put it back in its month and it looks different. In the three weeks before that motorcade there were threats against the President’s life in two other American cities, both serious enough to be acted on, and in one case serious enough that he did not go. None of this is a theory. It is in the record, it is dated, and almost nobody knows it.⁹³

On the ninth of November a Miami police informant sat with a right-wing activist from Georgia and recorded him. Asked about killing the President, the man said it was in the working. He described how: from an office building, with a high-powered rifle. And then he said the part that people cannot get past. That they would pick somebody up within hours afterwards, just to throw the public off. That recording exists. It was made thirteen days before Dallas.^{94, 95}

This is not a tape that sat in a drawer. It went to the Secret Service, and when the President visited Miami nine days later he did not travel through the city in an open car. He went by helicopter. So the service assessed that threat, believed it enough to change how a president moved, and then the thing described on it happened in another city four days after that. The committee later found the man himself had an alibi. The tape is still the tape.^{96, 97}

†Three weeks earlier he had been due in Chicago. There was a threat, an ex-Marine with a history and a rifle was picked up near the route, and reports describe a team of men who were never accounted for. The visit was called off hours before it was to happen, publicly attributed to the crisis in Vietnam. The parallels are uncomfortable: a motorcade, a building, a former Marine. And the surviving paperwork on it is remarkably thin.^{98, 99}

And then Tampa, on the eighteenth. There was a threat there too, reported in the local paper the following week, and this time nothing was altered. He rode through the city in an open car for nearly half an hour, the longest motorcade of his presidency, past tall buildings, with the top down. Four days later he did the same thing in Dallas. The Secret Service records for the Tampa trip are among the ones that no longer exist.^{100, 101}

Abraham Bolden was the first Black agent assigned to the White House detail, put there at Kennedy’s own instigation. He knew about Chicago. In 1964 he tried to get that information to the President’s Commission, and told colleagues he intended to. He was arrested before he could, on a charge of soliciting a bribe from a counterfeiter, in a case that had nothing to do with any of this.^{102, 97}

His first trial ended without a verdict. At the second he was convicted, and a key witness against him later admitted he had lied on the stand. He served more than three years. He spent the rest of his life saying what had happened to him, was largely ignored, and then in 2022 the President of the United States granted him a full pardon. That is not a researcher’s opinion about the case. That is the federal government, fifty-eight years later, saying it got him wrong.^{103, 104}

Now hold this next to the two advance warnings I took apart earlier. A missing teletype nobody else ever saw. A woman whose story improved after eleven years. And then this: a recording that exists, a helicopter instead of a car, a canceled visit, an agent in prison and a presidential pardon. That is what a real advance warning looks like in a record, and it looks nothing like the famous ones. The best evidence in this case is almost never the exciting evidence.⁴⁰

And now the brake, because this material is seductive and I can feel it pulling. None of it connects to Dealey Plaza. There is no line from a man in Georgia to a window on Elm Street. In a country of that size, in that year, with that level of political hatred, there were threats against the President constantly, and the ones that get remembered are the ones that happen to resemble what came later. Resemblance is not connection. It is the thing that most often gets mistaken for it.⁴⁰

The meeting in Paris

I have spent this book saying that the interesting thing is usually duller than the story, so it is only fair to give you the one time it went the other way. On the afternoon of the twenty-second of November 1963, while the motorcade was forming up at Love Field, an officer of the Central Intelligence Agency was in an apartment in Paris, meeting a Cuban official the Agency was cultivating to kill Fidel Castro.¹⁰⁵

He testified to all of this under oath in 1976, and a hundred and six pages of that transcript are now public. He had left Washington on the twentieth and landed in Paris on the morning of the twenty-second. In his luggage was a pen with a hypodermic needle in it, designed to deliver poison. He was asked directly whether he had approval to show it to the man he was meeting. He said he had approval to show it to him.¹⁰⁵

Now the clock, because the committee walked him through it and he did not dispute a minute of it. The shooting in Dallas was at half past twelve, which is half past seven in the evening in Paris. His meeting ended at ten o’clock that night. So the meeting was in that room while it happened. He was asked what he did when he came out, and he confirmed his earlier testimony: he walked out of that meeting and heard that the President had been shot.¹⁰⁵

It was not only the pen. Asked whether he had promised to air-drop rifles with telescopic sights into Cuba for this man, he said that was right. Grenades and explosives were discussed too, for storming a headquarters. And the file carried a line the committee read back to him about the limits of American help. They would not furnish the silencer, nor the scope, nor money for direct assassination, and they would not lift a finger to help him escape from Cuba should he assassinate Castro.¹⁰⁵

†Three weeks before that, at a meeting in late October, a senior officer had met the same man and, according to the committee’s questioning, told him that Robert Kennedy was behind the plot. The case officer would not adopt that phrasing. What we told him, he said, was that the United States Government was prepared to support a coup against Fidel Castro. Which is either the same sentence in careful clothing or a genuinely different one, and you can decide that for yourself.¹⁰⁵

And here is where I put the brakes on, because the obvious reading is very obvious and it is not supported. He testified that the man almost certainly did not leave with the pen, and that he had probably pulled the needle out of it himself. Asked whether anyone in November or December of 1963 discussed a relationship between this operation and the assassination of the President, he said not that he recalled. There is nothing in this transcript that connects the two, and the officer was pressed on it repeatedly.¹⁰⁵

So this is not a discovery that the Agency killed the President, and I am not going to let it become one. It is a coincidence of scheduling. But it is a coincidence of a very particular kind, and the thing it proves is not about Dallas at all. It proves what the American government was actually doing that autumn, on the record, under oath, in detail, at the precise hour it lost its own head of state.¹⁰⁵

Because it goes straight to the thing I said earlier about motive. My argument is that this President was in the way from both directions at once: he was trying to have Castro killed, and in his last months he was also trying to talk to him. People have found that hard to hold in one hand. Here is one afternoon holding both. A pen with a needle in it in Paris, and a speech in the President’s own words that the same officer had been instructed to show the man, in the same meeting.¹⁰⁵

§One last thing, about how this reached you. That transcript was not sealed and it was not hidden. It sits in the 2025 release with a record number, in the Senate committee series, and I found it by searching machine-read text for a cryptonym. Then I had to go back and read all hundred and six pages properly, because my own method only reads the first few of anything. The document had been public the whole time. It was simply long, and boring to open, and nobody did.¹⁰⁵

† disputed   ‡ theory   § reconstructed — everything unmarked is established. Superscript numbers key to the sources below. Corrections

Sources for this chapter

105 sources. Every claim above is keyed to one of them. The complete list for the whole book runs to 1,276.

1. Baker WC testimony (3H242)
2. Warren Report ch.4
3. Nellie Connally WC testimony (4H146)
4. her later published account
5. Warren Report ch.2 and ch.8 (follow-up car assignments)
6. Secret Service agent statements
7. Warren Commission witness statements from camera-carrying bystanders
8. the surviving photographic record
9. Brennan WC testimony (3H140)
10. DPD line-up records, 22 Nov 1963
11. Warren Commission testimony of Records Building and Dal-Tex witnesses
12. Warren Commission bystander testimony
13. Parkland Hospital admission records
14. Warren Commission witness lists
15. HSCA review of witness coverage
16. Warren Commission witness statements on shot counts
17. HSCA acoustic and witness analysis
18. Bond, Willis and Murray aftermath photographs
19. Warren Commission testimony on perceived shot direction
20. Warren Commission witness occupations and statements
21. photographs of the Elm Street crowd
22. Newman, Brehm and Willis WC testimony
23. Zapruder film
24. HSCA assessment of witness coverage
25. Altgens photograph
26. Warren Commission testimony of TSBD employees
27. Dealey Plaza photographic record
28. Warren Commission witness statements
29. Zapruder, Nix and Muchmore films
30. Dealey Plaza crowd photographs
31. Zapruder and Nix films
32. press photographs of Dealey Plaza, afternoon of 22 Nov 1963
33. contemporary accounts of downtown Dallas after November 1963
34. the Dealey Plaza photographic record
35. Warren Commission testimony of the filmers
36. FBI reports of interview with Ed Hoffman, 1967 and later
37. published accounts of the Hoffman testimony
38. published accounts of Ed Hoffman's testimony
39. FBI reports of interview, 1967
40. the author's assessment
41. Nix film (UPI)
42. Nix WC-era statements
43. HSCA photographic panel on the Nix film
44. Muchmore film (UPI)
45. contemporary press accounts of the sale
46. Hughes film
47. HSCA photographic evidence panel analysis of the Hughes film
48. Towner film
49. Towner's later published account
50. Willis WC testimony (7H492)
51. Willis slide 5
52. HSCA photographic panel frame-matching
53. Zapruder film Z190–230
54. Rosemary Willis's later interviews
55. HSCA discussion of the 'Willis girl' turn
56. Bronson film
57. FBI/HSCA analysis after its 1978 rediscovery
58. Betzner affidavit, 22 Nov 1963 (Dallas County)
59. Betzner photographs
60. Bond color slides
61. HSCA photographic panel inventory
62. Gordon Arnold and Beverly Oliver claims
63. the surviving photographic record of Dealey Plaza
64. DPD deployment records, 22 Nov 1963
65. Holland and other overpass witness testimony
66. Warren Report ch.2 (DPD deployment along the route)
67. DPD assignment records
68. Warren Report ch.8 (protective procedures)
69. Secret Service practice in 1963
70. DPD radio logs and dictabelt recordings, 22 Nov 1963
71. Warren Report ch.2 (lead car)
72. Curry and Decker statements
73. DPD and Dallas County statements, 22 Nov 1963
74. Dallas County Sheriff's Office deputy affidavits, 22 Nov 1963
75. Dallas County Sheriff's Office affidavits, 22 Nov 1963 (WC Vol. XIX)
76. Dallas County and DPD statement files
77. Hargis WC testimony (6H293)
78. aftermath photographs of Elm Street
79. Warren Report ch.8 (Secret Service organization and staffing)
80. Warren Report ch.8
81. Hill WC testimony (2H132)
82. Warren Report ch.2
83. Secret Service agent statements on the follow-up car
84. Warren Report ch.8 (agent conduct in Fort Worth)
85. Treasury Department inquiry
86. Greer WC testimony (2H112)
87. Kellerman WC testimony (2H73)
88. Secret Service radio log
89. Zapruder film Z313-390
90. Warren Report ch.8 recommendations
91. subsequent Secret Service protective policy
92. Warren Report ch.8 (protective planning and threat assessment)
93. HSCA final report 1979, on threats against President Kennedy in November 1963
94. Miami Police Department informant recording of Joseph Milteer, 9 November 1963
95. HSCA final report 1979, volume III
96. Secret Service records regarding the Miami visit, November 1963
97. HSCA final report 1979
98. HSCA final report 1979, on the Chicago threat
99. Secret Service and FBI records, November 1963
100. Tampa Tribune reporting, November 1963
101. Assassination Records Review Board final report, 1998
102. Abraham Bolden, published account
103. contemporaneous reporting of the Bolden prosecution
104. White House pardon announcement, 2022
105. Senate Select Committee testimony of the AMLASH case officer, 11 February 1976, RIF 157-10014-10017