Sherlock Holmes in The Umbrella Man

Sherlock Holmes in the Umbrella Man by Scott McQuaid, produced by Pop-Up Theatre. And so they will ask, where were you when John F Kennedy was assassinated? My answer is simplistic. I was attending a reunion of my army unit at the Langham Hotel in London. It had been exactly ten years since the UK joined America in their effort to defend South Korea from North Korea and China in what has become known as the Korean War. Little did I know that I'd be called once more to aid America in a different kind of war, a political one. It was around 6.30pm when suddenly a waiter ran through the drawing room in a panic. He's been shot! He's been shot! He swiftly ran behind the bar and immediately turned on the television. This is breaking news. Details are still unknown, but once again I repeat, this is breaking news. Just moments ago we received information that the President of the United States, John F Kennedy, has been shot. We do not know his condition, but we shall update you as soon as we can. Please stand by. The room fell silent for a brief moment. The general atmosphere was one of shock and confusion. Then my former fusilier, Morris Middlewhite, abruptly said, I bet it was bloody cat throws doing. This was not a conversation I wanted to participate in, so I hastily made my way to the exit. Where to, mate? 221B Baker Street. As the cab drove through the busy evening streets of London, the city appeared unrecognisable to me. It was 1963. The places I once roamed as a child had been rebuilt or refurbished. The swinging sixties was the height of Beatlemania, the occupation of hippies engaged in acts of civil disobedience. I was pleased to be at home at last. This old flat had not changed at all over the years. Of course, this could be due to the landlady, Mrs Hudson's ever so tight purse strings, but there was something comforting to me in knowing that this place had always been as it is. As if I had always stayed at this Victorian residence, perhaps in another life. Oh, Dr Watson, you're home early. Yes, I'm afraid my evening took a turn for the worse. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Well, you better go up. He's waiting for you and I must warn you, he's in one of his moods. You're late. Holmes sat in his usual worn leather chair, smoking his pipe. He was dressed in his best, wearing his coat with a small suitcase placed beside him. I could tell from the way he was puffing on his pipe he was extremely anxious. Late for what? Our flight. You have exactly eight minutes to pack before the cab arrives. I don't understand. You should have that on a T-shirt. But I still don't understand. And there's the back of it. All right, I'm going. Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. Holmes and I sat on the plane bound for Dallas, Texas. By now the grisly details had come to light of the tragic JFK assassination. President Kennedy was shot three times while travelling with his wife in a presidential motorcade on a visit to Dallas. Texas Governor John Connolly was also wounded as he was travelling in the same car. The president was taken immediately to Parkland Hospital, whereby his death was eventually announced. Much has been said about the shock and grief that followed this dreadful event. John F Kennedy was the post-war symbol of a revitalised America. A leader determined to move forward at home and abroad. How tragic. Listen to this. The First Lady, Jackie Kennedy, arrived at the hospital with JFK's body leaning in her lap. She looked up and said, they killed him. One can't imagine the pain, having to live through that. The shooter's name is Lee Harvey Oswald. It says here he was in the US Marine Corps before defecting to the Soviet Union. I guess this explains how he shot Kennedy three times. Does it? Why? You don't think he did? Governor Connolly was said to be shot in the back, the bullet coming from behind, which concurs with Oswald's position. Yet the information provided in the paper states that there were only three shots fired and all hit their target. That being President Kennedy. Ah yes, but the Warren Commission is stating a single bullet theory. Yes, look, it says here the first bullet entered through the back of the President's neck and continued through into Connolly's back, wrist and thigh. My dear Watson, are we to believe that a single bullet took a path through two bodies, making detours on its second victim, Connolly, through his back, wrist and eventually thigh. The bullet would have traversed 15 layers of clothing, seven layers of skin and approximately 15 inches of muscle tissue, struck a necktie knot, removed four inches of a rib and shattered a radius bone. Yes, that does seem rather strange. However, life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. So you're saying what exactly? I'm saying that the type of gun Oswald used to shoot the President was a Carcano rifle, which was once used to hunt elephants. This means that if a bullet from that particular rifle has the power to pass through dense matter such as elephants, then it should have no problem penetrating through two human bodies. So you're saying it's feasible? I'm saying it's possible. But highly improbable. Oh. Just then, it suddenly occurred to me that Holmes had not mentioned our employer for this case. Holmes, who hired us for this case? One in the highest office. CIA? Higher. Secret Service? No, Watson. The President of the United States. Good grief! President Lyndon Johnson hired us? No, Watson. President Kennedy hired us. Holmes then explained that he had received a letter from President Kennedy a year ago, alerting him of his concerns of an assassination plot against him. The letter explained, if he should be assassinated, then a private sum of money would be transferred, activating Holmes' service for employment. This certainly explained how we could afford the plush Hilton Fort Worth Hotel. Holmes had booked suite 850, the very same room President Kennedy had stayed in the night before he was assassinated. He said he wanted to retrace the President's footsteps. I, on the other hand, was feeling jet-lagged and immediately fell into bed. WBAP. How long have I been asleep? Four hours, which is more than enough time to reset your body clock. Look at this. 10% off Converse Playtime Footwear. Not the advertisement, Watson. The photograph of the supposed bullet taken from Governor Connolly's thigh. Ah, right, yes, yes, the single bullet theory. Yes, although magic bullet would be more apt. Do you notice anything? Er, no, not really, just a normal bullet. Exactly, a normal bullet. Where's the damage? There are a few noticeable scratches, but no dents. Its copper jacket is completely intact. If a bullet had travelled the path the Warren Commission's investigation is claiming, through two human bodies, then surely it would be severely contorted. Hmm, yes, that does seem unlikely. Oh look, Oswald's on television. I don't know what this is all about. Were you at the building at the time of the shooting? I work in that building, so naturally if I work in that building, yes sir, I'm just a patsy. Hmm, interesting choice of phrase. The word patsy implies he was being taken advantage of or at least being blamed for something. Now I suggest you get dressed as this evening we are going to see a film. Oh really? Yes, tick-tock Watson. As I sat in the dark office of some local sportswear company, I wondered once again how Holmes had managed to set up this affair, having only been in the country for eight hours. We sat uncomfortably together in a confined space, repeatedly watching the same images of President Kennedy's assassination on a black and white film that lasted 26 seconds. Holmes, I thought we were going to a movie theatre. Whatever gave you that impression? You said we're going to see a movie. No, I said we are going to see a film, and we are. It's not exactly what I had in mind. Do you realise what you're seeing Watson? This 8mm film provided by our amateur filmmaker here is not only direct evidence, but it's also going to become one of the most historical pieces of film ever shot. I'd say you're seeing a classic. One more time please, Mr Sapruda. The Sapruda film showed a motorcade of officials driving down Daly Plaza with Vice President Lyndon Johnson's car behind President Kennedy's limousine. His wife, Jackie Kennedy, is seated beside him, with Texas Governor John Connolly sitting just in front of them both. We see them all waving to onlookers when suddenly JFK clutches his throat. Jackie leans over to attend to him. An instant later, what looks like a lightning bolt, strikes the President in the head. His fellow was extremely lucky to catch this with his camera. He could probably earn a lot of money from this film. Ah, capitalism. Even in the face of tragedy, there is game. I was merely saying... Stop! Rewind back to frame 313 please, Mr Sapruda. There! Hold it! What is it, Holmes? Oswald was stationed in the sixth floor window of the book depository building situated behind the President's car, meaning his shots came from behind. Then why in this third and fatal shot does the President's head flip back and to the left? The first two gunshots see Kennedy in distress, leaning forward, but the third has him falling backward from impact. The laws of physics cannot be deceived, for Kennedy's head to flip back in that vigorous motion means that the bullet came... From the front! Precisely. But then that would mean... There was a second shooter. From where? That piece of information will undoubtedly come to light, but my main concern at this precise moment is him. Holmes pointed to a man standing by the roadside, close to President Kennedy's car as it passed by. The man stood out from everyone else for one particular reason. He was holding an umbrella. Why is he holding an umbrella up on a clear, sunny day? What about the woman with the Russian-style headscarf? Ah yes, the babushka lady. She's another unidentified mystery not recorded on the police witness list, but it is the umbrella man and his actions that intrigue me. How so? Well, as Kennedy's car approaches him, he then puts up his umbrella as if it was a signal. A signal for Oswald to shoot? Perhaps, or a signal for everyone. The next morning, Holmes and I went to breakfast, and as the saying goes, everything is bigger in Texas. This certainly rang true, judging from the size of my breakfast plate, I easily fed a small family from a ravaged third-world country. Not eating, Sherlock? No, food is merely fuel, and my tank is adequate, thank you. Sure, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Ah, Watson, it must be nice not being me, so relaxing for you. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I assume? Detective Lavelle, please sit. Jim Lavelle was a homicide detective from the Dallas Police Department, known for his honesty and his unusually large white cowboy hat. He was assigned to the JFK case. I thought it was you. See, nobody around these here parts would wear such an ugly hat. Ah, but detective, this is a deerstalker hat. This is fashion for hunting, and that is exactly what I am doing. Inspector Lestrade speaks very highly of you. Says you're a consultant detective with Scotland Yard? That's one way to describe the nature of my relationship with London's finest. But I prefer a simple description. I'm a problem solver. Is that right? So what problem are you fixing to solve? The identity of the assassin of President Kennedy. Perhaps y'all haven't been watching the boob tube lately, but we caught the assassin of Mr. JFK. God rest his soul. Lee Harvey Oswald? You damn right. In fact, I'm personally escorting him this morning from the city jail to county jail. On a Sunday? Yeah, we don't usually do routine transfers on a Sunday. But word came from up top, so we're moving him. Has Oswald spoken? Couple of those CIA boys spent a few minutes with him, but I only heard him say one thing. I'm just a pad seeing thing. What's your opinion, detective? Do you think he was working alone? Y'all trying to tell me he was set up? It seems like an open and shut case to me. Now if you excuse me, I've got to be heading down to the jailhouse. Here's the file on Oswald you asked for. Anybody asks, you didn't get this from me. And tell Inspector Lestrade he owes me. Big. Holmes spent the rest of the morning reading the classified file on Lee Harvey Oswald. Holmes said very little as he scanned through the papers, smoking his pipe. I, on the other hand, was watching the television. The local news was covering Oswald's prison transfer. Look at the size of Detective Lavelle's hat. Looks even bigger on television. Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people. Touche! Oh, my God! What? What is it? They shot him! On live television! Well, now we'll never get to hear his story. Yes, how convenient. So, now what do we do? I will smoke. What? This is a three-pipe problem, so don't speak to me until I'm ready. I left Holmes and his pipe in the hotel while I took a walk down the street. I was astonished by the sheer size of the city and its structural architecture. As I stopped for a rest on a park bench, I noticed a young, attractive lady behind me. I thought I saw her earlier when I left the hotel, but I couldn't be sure. Dr Watson? Yes? I'm Mary Pillsworth. I'm a journalist for the Dallas Morning News. I'm afraid you're working the Strand Magazine. Oh, please, sit down. I'm sorry to approach you all like this, but when I heard you and Mr Holmes were here in Dallas, I just knew I had to talk to you all. How did you know we were here? I have my sources. After all, I am a reporter. What is it I can do for you? Well, actually, it's more what I can do for you all. Miss Pillsworth proceeded to inform me of her accounts of witnessing the assassination of President Kennedy. She was present on the roadside waving to the president when... I heard the gunshot from behind me. What? Are you sure? I think so, yes. I heard the gunshot like it came from behind me on the grass, you know? Hmm. I mean, I could be mistaken. I have had hearing problems ever since I was born. Come on, let's go. Where are we going? Why, to see Sherlock Holmes, of course. Upon arriving at the hotel, I was greeted by the concierge, who passed me a message from my colleague. It read, Please come, if convenient, to the Texas School Book Depository. If not convenient, come anyway. This was typical perplexing semantics by Holmes. Miss Pillsworth and I headed downtown to Daly Plaza. And when we reached the infamous scene of the crime, Holmes was already on site with Detective Lavelle searching for clues with his magnifying glass. Nice of you to join us, Watson. Good day, Detective Lavelle. I trust you're OK from this morning's ordeal? Yeah, it was pretty tense for a moment there. When I saw Jack Ruby holding that pistol tight against his leg, I knew what was fixing to happen. He shot Mr. Oswald point-blank in the stomach. He didn't have a chance. Yes, it's most unfortunate that we'll never get to hear Mr. Oswald's testimony. Oh, Sherlock, this is... Mary Pillsworth. I recognize you from the picture in your JFK article, a very well-written, articulate account of the event. Why, thank you, Mr. Holmes. I must admit of being somewhat of a fan of yours. While I've read all your crime-solving stories, it's truly astounding. Yes, well, Watson has a tendency to romanticise the actuality of my work, so I wouldn't take it at face value. Let's get to work, shall we? Looking from this window where Oswald took his shots at the President, I would say the trajectory of the bullet coming down is 16 degrees. Now, the Carcano rifle Oswald used is bolt-action in reloading, with the Kennedy's car's speed averaging 11.2 mph Oswald would have had to have taken all three shots in exactly 5.6 seconds. That's pretty fast, especially using that bolt-action rifle. But then he was an ex-Marine marksman. Yes, I read his military file. Oswald only just about passed the standard required test to become a military sharpshooter. Still a marksman, though. OK, let us deviate from his skill level and go to the hard facts. The so-called magic bullet that went into both President Kennedy and Governor Connolly remained very much intact, whereas the third fatal headshot bullet exploded when entering Kennedy's skull. So how do two bullets perform so differently? Oswald's gun used full-metal jacket bullets. That bullet goes through soldiers. They don't explode. So what bullets explode? A frangible hollow point. They are designed to explode on impact. So the two bullets are inconsistent. Yes, ma'am. Also, I might add that when reading through the hospital autopsy report on the president, it notes the exit wound being on the upper right side on the back of the skull. Hmm. Why? What does that mean? A gunshot wound is bigger than the entry wound. So if the bullet came from behind, why is the exit wound on the back of his head? So there was a second shooter. Detective Lavelle, did your men dust for fingerprints? Yes, sir, and we found a lot of Mr. Oswald's prints up here. What about this fingerprint on the cardboard box over here? Now, how on earth did you ever see that? Because I looked for it. Let me take that for forensics. I have to admit, Mr. Holmes, I thought you were all hat and no cattle. And I thought you were just a hat. I also found this torn piece of paper on the floor. Let me see. T. Rose Jimmy. Maybe it's a torn page from a children's book. I mean, it sure sounds like it. After all, this is a school book depository. Half of these books here are probably filled with kids' books. Indeed. Well, I have to get going. I'm covering a dinner party event at the Driskell Hotel. Anybody who's anybody will be there. Really? Dallas is rich and famous, eh? Powerful. Don't forget powerful. In Dallas, it's all about who's got power. Miss Pillsworth, do you mind if we tag along? Well, the invite does have a plus one. So I guess y'all have to fight over who's going to be my chaperone. Well, as I predominantly despise engagements, social gatherings, and people in general, I think it's only better that I go. Oh. Perfect. I'll pick you up at 7. For a brief moment there, I thought I was going to have a fun-filled evening. But you made it abundantly clear that I'm not. Well, how else would you understand me if I didn't talk like an idiot? Now come, Watson, I must get my suit pressed. That evening, Holmes and Miss Pillsworth attended the exclusive party at the Driskell Hotel. I, on the other hand, dined alone at the hotel restaurant. That over there is Clint Murchison. He's a big-time mall tycoon. Oh, and him standing near the piano, he's Harrison Hon. He's also in the oil business. Is there anybody here that isn't an oil baron? That would be me. Oh, Howard, I didn't see you there. Allow me to introduce you. This is my good friend, Sherlock Holmes from London. He's visiting, and this is... Howard Hughes. I don't think there's a person on the planet that doesn't know who you are. Well, I do tend to make the headlines. Movies and planes are your interest, correct? Anything that makes money is my interest. Is that a British accent, I detect? Oh, my. I'm sure you've heard of Mr. J. Edgar Hoover, head of the FBI. Of course. I've admired your work from afar, with the capture of Machine Gun Kelly and John Dillinger. And the investigative techniques you have developed over the years have inspired my own work. Your own work? Huh. What are you, a cop? Not quite. Far from it. More of an expert of deduction. I'm here investigating the murder of JFK. Really? Everyone and their damn mother is a detective these days. Yes, I balance probabilities and choose the most likely. Probabilities, huh? When it comes to investigating, you need surveillance, cameras, photos, wiretaps, and hard evidence. You can't just guess and make assumptions. I never guess. I merely say what I see. Oh, yeah? And what do you see? Everything. It is my curse. Really? So what do you see in me? Very well. I think you're a private man, and therefore lonely. The privacy is driven by precaution to maintain the tough-guy facade for the public eye, while denying your homosexual tendencies and cross-dressing fixation. This uncomfortable silence not only confirms my theory, but also presents me with the floor to explain how I came to this deduction. Firstly, your eyes have not fixed upon any female in this room, of which there are many attractive ladies. However, you have looked at a few men in here and expressed the male signs of attraction. Your pupils dilate, you stand tall, you play with your clothes, and you point your body towards the person you are attracted to, which in this case is Mr. Hughes. Uh, excuse me. I'm gonna get another drink. Oh, and I almost forgot. The cross-dressing is indicated from the leftover nail polish on your finger, which you obviously applied a few days ago. I think it's time for you to leave. Yes, I have this effect on people. Enjoy your evening, Miss Pillsworth. I'll find my own way back. Thank you. As I understand it, Holmes then proceeded to the hotel's garden. As he struck up his pipe, the match flame illuminated a shadowy figure sitting upon a swing chair in the cool night air. That was impressive, Mr. Holmes. You have light? It was Babushka Lady from the Zapruder film. Thank you, Miss. I have read your crime-solving stories before. It is most impressive. Tell me, do you always get your man? Or woman? Da. Sometimes the puzzle is solved, but nobody wants to look at the picture. You are trying to find who killed Kennedy? You must follow money. Is that what you do, follow the money? It is one way to live. And the other? Blackmail. You were there when Kennedy was shot. You were on the opposite side of the street from Mr. Zapruder. I see that you two had a cine-camera. This means not only did you film the assassination from the opposite angle, but you would have also caught the grassy knoll in frame. I have film, da. This film could show a different perspective, one that includes a second shooter. This film makes me lots of money. Once it is shown, it loses worth. What about the truth? What is true today is rewritten tomorrow. I must go, a storm is coming. Don't forget your umbrella, Mr. Holmes. I didn't bring one. I'm sure you'll figure something out. I look forward to reading the pages of this story. So do I. Goodbye. A heavy storm had come over the Dallas skies that night, and as the rain washed away the grey clouds, visibility crept in. And so too was it that Holmes was able to see clearly and comprehensively. I opened the door of the hotel suite to reveal a very wet but intense Sherlock Holmes. His eyes were wide and his actions urgent. Holmes, are you all right? It is a conspiracy, Watson. I have the why. Why? What why? The motive to why President Kennedy was shot. The oil industry here in Texas has enjoyed huge tax concessions since the late 1920s, when Congress had provided them as an incentive to increase much-needed prospecting. Yes, these oil barons get even richer. So? But Kennedy expressed intentions to review the oil industry revenues. His interference with the oil depletion allowance would cost the oil industry millions. So you're saying these oil men, what, paid for the assassination of Kennedy? Exactly. They subsidised the shooters. Now, if Oswald is their patsy, the man where the blame will ultimately begin and end, then the grassy knoll shooter needs to be somebody on the inside, somebody that is trained with a gun and has killed before, somebody who knows the workings of a security detail for a president. A hired gun? Ex-CIA? Look at this. Three tramps were arrested shortly after JFK's assassination. They were found hiding in a railroad car behind the grassy knoll. And? And one of them has been identified as E Howard Hunt. I recognised his name from a Jimmy Hoffa story I read in the paper a few years back. Hunt is CIA, operating in the shadows, doing the dirty work for the government. Word is that he's been making friends with Mr Nixon, who of course lost the presidency race to Kennedy. He's the grassy knoll shooter. Ah, right on cue. Who the devil is that? It's so late as well. Hello? Detective Lovell. What can I do for you? Uh-huh. I see. Yes. OK, well, thank you. The forensic test came back on that fingerprint you found. He says he has a match. Belongs to a chap called... Malcolm Wallace. But how did you know it was... Six witnesses testified to seeing a man entering the school book depository building described as heavy-set, balding and wearing glasses. Now that's quite the contrast to a small skinny Oswald that does not wear spectacles. This description of the man reminded me of an article I read while researching in the library. The murder of John Kinzer. Wallace is an ex-marine who shot Kinzer at a golf course and served little time for the crime. Why? Because he was the former press secretary to Vice President Lyndon B Johnson. You mean President Lyndon Johnson? Now he's president, but 72 hours ago, Lyndon Johnson was vice president with little to no chance of ever holding the title of president. It's no secret that Kennedy had begun considering dropping Lyndon Johnson as his running mate in the next presidential election and their relationship, at best, was one of tolerance. Surely you don't believe that Lyndon Johnson set up this assassination? No, I do not. But I do think he was aware of the events that were about to unfold and Malcolm Wallace was his contribution to the cause. That's why Oswald could shoot his bullets so close together. I theorise that Wallace took the first accurate shot that hit Kennedy in the throat and seconds later Oswald shot the second bullet that missed the president completely and hit Governor Connolly. Then E Hunt on the grassy knoll took the third and fatal headshot. But with no evidence you can't prove any of this. It's just speculation. True, which brings us to the disappearing evidence. The Secret Service took Kennedy's brain matter from Parkland Hospital which they now claim is lost. All the doctors' records have gone straight to Washington under the control of FBI Director Mr J Edgar Hoover. Yes, a very vocal Nixon supporter. And not to mention friends with Howard Hughes. Howard Hughes, the billionaire? The very same. Hughes has been a substantial backer of the CIA for a few years now and once he decided that Nixon was his candidate for president he only reaffirmed his alliance with Hoover. Hughes can support this assassination with not only money but with his vast array of aviation at his disposal. Planes? Correct. You have to be able to move your shooters in and out of the country with a little paper trail. Private planes. So it's a conspiracy? Yes, as I suspected from the beginning. When I heard you read out that quote by the First Lady, do you remember? Jackie Kennedy? Er, yes. She said they killed him. Quite so. Now we assume that she was referring to the person shooting at that given time but what if she was actually referring to a certain group of conspirators? Two years ago Kennedy gave a speech at the American University and part of that speech focused on secret societies and how he was opposed to them. These secret societies involved the rich and powerful. Kennedy was well aware of his enemies, even within his own cabinet. But Holmes, how do you expect to convict any of these power players? Oil tycoons, billionaires, CIA, and the current president? Right, you are Watson. We understand the why and the how but his assassination is an orchestra. We have identified our key players but every symphony needs a conductor. That one man to bring it all together. The Umbrella Man. Right again. This is our Umbrella Man. The torn paper from the children's book. That was the general assumption of its origin, yes. But then something said by somebody tonight made me contemplate otherwise. I look forward to reading the pages of this story. Perhaps it was not just a mere extract from a children's novel. I then considered Oswald's espionage mentality and this led me to the conclusion that it was a code. What type of code? A name. An anagram for the one man who could put this entire operation together. And Oswald kept this name with him as a clue for the investigators just in case he would end up being the patsy. So he put it in code. An anagram for T. Rawls Jimmy? Yes, T. Rawls Jimmy is James Moriarty. Come Watson, the game is afoot. This is the last call for passenger... Holmes and I arrived in London in the early hours of the morning where we were picked up by Inspector Lestrade. We then proceeded directly to Durham University. When we arrived, class was still in session. Holmes insisted that he be allowed to finish his class. So if it took six people nine hours to build a barn, how long would it take twelve people to build the same barn? Four and a half hours, sir. No. Anybody else? None. The barn is already built. Well, our guest back there is right. The answer is in the question, as I said, to build the same barn. So to sum up, class, mathematics is not always about finding the equation. It's in the details. Thank you. Professor Moriarty, you're under arrest. Inspector Lestrade, it's so nice to see you. Did you hear what I said? I did. I'm curious about the charge, as your last attempts have been most embarrassing and very inconvenient. You're being charged with the acts of conspiracy and the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Really? I trust you are well, Holmes? Actually, I'm feeling somewhat disappointed. Oh? Yes, I was hoping for a battle of wits, but it is clear to me that you are unarmed. By all means, please explain. A piece of torn paper recovered from Lee Harvey Oswald had your name written on it in code. The handwriting was a match for Oswald, but it was the paper itself that interested me. The paper used was Crown Mill. This stationery originated in Brussels in the 1800s and soon became the prestige of stationery for London scholars and universities. By the 1950s, most universities had opted for a cheaper option of stationery, except for Durham University, which continues to use this stationery today. Add to the fact that the type of paper was never manufactured or sold in the United States brings me to your presence. My theory is that piece of paper was sent by the mastermind behind this plot. The paper contained directions and plans for Oswald to carry out on the day of the assassination, so after reading it, he destroyed it. But not before tearing off one piece that writes your name upon it. My name on a piece of paper that may or may not have come from this university is your only evidence for this outrageous claim? No. I attended a dinner party in Dallas with the powerful, rich and famous. There I met FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover. He enlightened me on what he regarded as real investigative techniques, such as surveillance. After I left the party, I decided to apply his crude methods by having Detective Lavelle place a bug on his phone. I knew my presence would cause some unrest, which would result in Mr Hoover contacting the mastermind, you. Interesting conversation you two had. So my arrest is based on a conversation I had about an assassination that had already happened? Actually, I don't know what you're being charged with. That detail has yet to be determined by Mr Hoover. What? Naturally, Mr Hoover doesn't want his name or position to be in this scandal. It would ruin him. So we came to an agreement. Which is? To the public, Oswald will remain as the lone gunman charged with the killing of the president, while your charge will be something different completely. Something that keeps you locked up for many years so the truth can be buried, never to be heard while your fellow conspirators continue their political game of play until all their pawns are used. Come on, Professor. It's a long flight to Washington. The day will come when Sherlock Holmes looks up from below in defeat and it will be your last. Education never ends. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for last. Let's go. Oh, Professor, don't forget your umbrella. It's a shame the truth will never be heard. All those men answer to nothing. The blood on their hands will come to light in time, but it will not be in our lifetime. Holmes was never completely satisfied with the outcome of this case, but as time went on, each conspirator involved in the JFK assassination would make headlines, some for ties to corruption, others for their sordid dark secrets. The stories created discussion, which made it harder for these perpetrators to operate. How the journalists came to find such significant facts in their stories is not completely a mystery to me.