Read Online The Warren Omissions by Jack Patterson - Free Book Online Page A

400-pound gorilla.
    Navigating afternoon traffic in Dallas was not one of the more glamorous parts of the job. After visiting Sam Golden in Crandall, Flynn returned to Dallas proper for another meeting he’d delayed for several weeks. He received a call from a man named Stephen Moore who had some documents he wanted to give to Flynn—but it had to be in person. He asked Mr. Moore to wait patiently until he could get there. Fortunately, the invitation to see Sam Golden’s video gave Flynn the opportunity to make it a two-for-one trip, something that would make those finance people at   The National   happy.
    Flynn also wanted to make Theresa happy, which is why he recorded a playback of Sam Golden’s footage of the shooter hidden in the culvert. It took all of three minutes, after he emailed the footage to his editor, for her to call him back.
    “Are you serious? Is this for real?” Theresa asked.
    “You know me. I always air on the side of caution and cynicism. But if this is a hoax, it’s one elaborate one. Just get an expert to compare it with official television footage. It shouldn’t be hard to prove or disprove.”
    “But we have no idea that the man in the culvert actually fired his weapon.”
    “I’m not concerned with whether he fired his weapon or not. I want to know who he is.”
    “Do you have any idea of who he might be?”
    “Strangely enough—yes. But it’s going to take some time to verify who he is.”
    “Got any friends left at the CIA who can help out?”
    “I’ve still got a few friends there, but this is not something I want to transmit to them and put into their database as coming from me. Just give me some time. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
    “Take all the time you need. You know this might be bigger than Watergate.”
    “Maybe. Depends on who was really behind it all—the only question that needs to be answered at this point.”
    “Just keep me posted, OK?”
    Flynn bid his editor a good afternoon before hanging up and turning his full attention back to the road. But it didn’t stay there for long before his mind began to drift.   How could this be possible? It doesn’t make sense.
    A half hour later, Flynn arrived at Mr. Moore’s residence. He remained in the car for a moment to ponder what might be next as he stared at the manicured yard in the center of this upper-middle-class neighborhood. The week’s events sent Flynn’s mind spinning as he worked through the evidence to find the shred of truth that would unravel the lie sold to the American public. Could Mr. Moore’s documents shed more light on the JFK assassination conspiracy or simply lead to more questions? Flynn hoped his victorious battle against Dallas’ afternoon traffic would yield a positive result for the case. He hated more questions in a conspiracy this old.
    Flynn knocked on the black door of the brick ranch house and waited. The door creaked open, revealing a gentleman who appeared to be somewhere around eighty years old. The thin splotches of white hair dotting his otherwise bald head and his slightly hunched back alerted Flynn that his host had a few stories to tell. Yet there was only one that interested him.
    Mr. Moore welcomed Flynn and showed him to the den where the two settled into plush chairs. They made small talk for a few minutes before addressing the main reason for their meeting.
    “So, Mr. Moore, what documents did your brother give you that were so important you had to give them to me in person?” Flynn asked.
    Mr. Moore chuckled, which quickly turned into a gravely cough. Upon regaining his composure, Mr. Moore answered him.
    “I’m a big fan and I wanted to meet you in person,” Mr. Moore said.
    “Seriously?” Flynn asked, starting to seethe beneath his breath.
    “Absolutely. But that’s not the only reason I wanted to see you in person. It has to do with the nature of these documents, documents that my brother said were for your eyes only.”
    Flynn