Clandestine

Chapter 23 - Implicated

The phone rang on a cool June evening. Initially I thought I might not answer the call but after a number of rings I decided to respond rather than help Eleanor with the dishes. She knew every devious thought I ever had.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello. May I speak to Callum O’Donovan?” the caller replied.

“Speaking,” I said.

“Hello, Callum. My name is Donald Thomas. I am a researcher with the United States Department of Agriculture. Recently I have come across a photo of you in the Oxford Graduate Review, published by a gentleman named Andy Murray. I understand that you are to become one of the oldest students ever to attend the school. Congratulations,” he stated.

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“I ran across the photo as I am good friends with Michael Power, who is an alumnus from the law program at Oxford, and he keeps in touch with the school via Andy’s monthly bulletins,” Mr Thomas continued.

I remained silent.

“There were a few pictures that Andy used in the article, one from 1954 in your last year at Oxford and another from 1953 when you boxed for the college,” he said.

“I was unaware of the article although I did meet Andy briefly when I registered for my courses back in March,” I continued.

“Well Mr O’Donovan, let me come to the purpose of my phone call. I authored a paper this past spring regarding ballistics and sound analysis of the shooting that took place in Dealey Plaza on November 22nd, 1963. It was concluded that there were at least 5 shots fired on President Kennedy that day. This paper has put me in the sphere of conspiracy theorists and as such I have come across many documents related to the investigation. I am in possession of a photograph taken on November 1st in Dallas, Texas. It’s from a recently declassified FBI file and it shows a man in a downtown Dallas nightclub, speaking with Jack Ruby. The FBI claims it is a picture of Lee Harvey Oswald, but I am an expert in the area of photographic identification and I have shown convincingly that this picture is not of Lee Harvey Oswald. Until last week I could not find a photographic match. I have now found one and I can confirm through my analysis that the picture of LHO taken in November of 1963 in Dallas is, in fact, you,” Mr Thomas concluded.

“Can I be of any further assistance to you then, Mr Thomas?” I answered.

“Perhaps. I would like you to come to New York and talk to me about the picture and about your experiences in Dallas in November, 1963. Any insight that you could share with me would be helpful. In 1977 I appeared before a senate subcommittee on assassinations and was very displeased with the level of analysis that was provided in the case. Later I watched the Oliver Stone movie JFK, in 1991, and became interested in ways that I could shed light on the investigation scientifically. It has become a passion on mine,” Donald said.

“I’m sorry, Mr Thomas, but I have no immediate plans to travel to New York City and I think you would be disappointed in my contribution,” I replied.

“I understand,” Donald answered. “Could I ask you a favour though? Would you watch the movie JFK for me and see if it stirs up any thoughts or memories? Then I’ll call back in a month’s time and see if you feel differently.  Lastly I’d like you to know that I have not shared this information about the photo and will not, provided you allow me to have a conversation with you and share what I have been able to determine.”

“Thank you for the call,” I answered. “I am always looking for a good movie to watch. Take Care Mr Thomas and have a great night.” I finished.

“Who was it dear?” said Eleanor.

“Wrong number,” I replied, “someone who had mistaken me for someone else.”

The next morning I went to the library and found the previous month’s edition of the Oxford Graduate Review. Sure enough two pictures appeared in the issue. One was my graduation picture and the other was of me in my full boxing regalia. The article was about how I had completed a Bachelor of Arts degree in the 1950s and promptly had a 40-year hiatus in my studies while I pursued a military career. It was a teary human-interest story but one that made me think of running away and heading back to the most remote section of Australia. I longed for my apartment on the shores of Narooma, but then I remembered Eleanor and all that I had gained in the previous six months. I decided not to run and instead to simply work through the issues associated with this story and my past.

A week later I came home with the movie JFK and watched it together with Eleanor. It is a powerful film, and the images of Dealey Plaza disturbed me and brought back a great deal of memories. Many parts of the film seemed to be complete fabrications but much of it was thought-provoking. Oliver Stone had come to similar conclusions that I had come to as I had watched from my hotel room in Chicago 37 years earlier. I was very familiar with Jim Garrison’s novel, On the trail of the Assassins, as I had read it many years before.

The movie is quite long and I believe Eleanor fell asleep twice during the course of the film. Towards the end of the evening she finally sat up and realised that John F. Kennedy was the author of the book which she had loaned me from her high school library. I did not reveal any other pieces to her at that time. In the final courtroom scene, as Jim Garrison is pleading with the jury not to forget their dying king, I had tears in my eyes. Eleanor saw my emotion and knew there was a deeper and more personal meaning for me.

Three weeks later Mr Thomas called me again and asked if I would come to New York for a conversation. He reiterated his threat to turn over the picture and my identity, not to the police but to conspiracy theorists who would hunt me down to my final days, but if I were to come to see him and discuss what I knew about the case he would keep the information private.

It was an offer I did not want to refuse and I agreed to take a trip back to the U.S. in the summer of 2001 to meet Mr Thomas, for the first time. I approached Eleanor about a vacation to the U.S. and she was in favour. Over the next couple of weeks we planned our trip which involved a flight to Dallas, a diversion to Chicago, and then finally a trip to New York City. I did not tell Eleanor anything about the impetus for the journey and positioned the trip as simply a final fling before I began graduate school.

The summer months flew by and in August of 2001 Eleanor and I boarded a plane from London to Dallas. A month of travel awaited us, and my second journey across America was to begin. I hoped that it would bring me closure.