The Letter

November 22, 1963 12:30 p.m.

Charlie Ross was alone in his tiny apartment studying for his final exam in Successions. He had his radio tuned to WWL, and without warning, the voice said, “John F. Kennedy has been shot in Dallas, Texas. The President is dead.” Charlie froze, not believing the words he just heard. In seconds there was a loud pounding on his door. He quickly opened it, and standing there in tears was Bonnie Seger, his girlfriend. Through the sobs, she said, “Charlie, Kennedy is dead.”

March 11, 1964 11:30 p.m.

Charlie spent most of his free time at the Loyola University Law Library. Being a 3L, he had to study for his daily classes and start preparing for the Bar Exam, which he would take in July. He always sat at the last table in the back to have more privacy. Looking at his notes, he realized he needed the Southern Reporter, which was located on a shelf in the reference section. As Charlie got up, he noticed that only a few students remained in the library at this late hour. Walking toward the reference section, he heard whispering. It sounded like someone was arguing. As he turned the corner, he saw two individuals. They seemed to be in a disagreement about a book. They were startled by his sudden appearance and took off in a full sprint. The person holding the book turned the corner so fast his hand hit a chair, causing the book to drop to the floor.

Charlie stood there in disbelief that the men suddenly took off and disappeared within seconds. As he regained his composure, Charlie noticed the book on the floor. He picked it up as he wondered why the strangers were so interested in this book and why they left in such a hurry. He looked at the title, Cuban Immigration Laws 1900 to 1950. Perplexed, Charlie realized this book doesn’t belong in the reference area. No one would ever find it here. He grabbed the Southern Reporter and returned to his table with the dropped book, thinking he would leave it at the front desk on his way out. After studying for another hour, Charlie decided it was time to go. He grabbed his notes and books and placed them in his backpack. The last item that remained on the table was the misplaced book. Absently, Charlie opened the book to the first page. The page was blank except for a name and date handwritten in the top right corner, L.H. Oswald 1963. Charlie stared at the name, and like a bolt of lightning, it hit him, L.H. Oswald; Lee Harvey Oswald.

August 10, 1963 10:00 a.m.

Oswald stood outside the New Orleans Police Station waiting for his ride. He had just been released on charges of disturbing the peace that stemmed from an incident that happened the day before in front of the World Trade Center Building. A black sedan pulled to the curb, and the front door opened. Oswald got in. Sitting behind the wheel was a gentleman dressed in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, and a black fedora hat. As soon as Oswald closed the door, the car quickly sped down Canal Street. “Lee, you have to stop doing this. No more public attention. Our mission is too important,” the driver said. “Look Clyde, I’m not too crazy about this mission, and how do I know what Edgar has promised will happen. It seems I’m getting no guarantees,” Oswald shot back. “ It’s Edgar. That’s the only guarantee you need, Lee.” “You want me to drop you at your apartment?” Clyde asked. “No, drop me at the Law Library at Loyola. I need a quiet place to think.” The car pulled up to the library, and as Oswald was getting out, Clyde said, “Lee, get your shit together. We leave for Dallas on Monday.”

Oswald entered the library and walked to the front desk. The elderly librarian turned to face Oswald and said, “Can I help you with something?” “Yes, where would I find information concerning immigration law?” “Those volumes would be in section A. Let me show you,” she replied. After the librarian left, Oswald scanned the books and found one that caught his attention, Cuban Immigration Laws 1900 to 1950. For the next 45 minutes, he skimmed the pages and thought about the commitment he had made and the promise he would receive. Oswald closed the book, went back to the front desk, and asked the librarian if he could borrow a pen and sheet of paper. He returned to the table and started writing. When he finished writing, he looked around and noticed two men in black suits sitting at a table at the opposite end of the building. They seemed to be watching him. Oswald slowly got up, grabbed the book, and darted behind a row of books. His first thought was, “ I’m a dead man if they find this note.” Quickly, he folded the note, stuffed it inside the book, and put it on the top shelf. He noticed he had placed it in the reference section on the last row at the back of the library. He was able to leave without the men seeing him. Oswald walked away, disappearing into the night.

March 12, 1964 1:15 a.m

Charlie stared at the handwritten name, thinking this was just a coincidence and it wasn’t Oswald. He picked up the book to look at the title again, and when he did, it opened slightly. A single sheet of folded notebook paper fell to the table. Before Charlie picked up the sheet, he looked around the library to see if anyone was watching. Seeing no one, he opened the folded sheet. It seemed to be a letter. He quickly scanned the contents, and his eyes froze on the last line.

Love, Lee

Charlie reread the letter to be sure that what he read the first time was correct. When he finished in a shallow voice, he whispered, “Holy shit!” He slowly slid the letter back into the book and sat there. Then he remembered the two men who dropped the book. They must have known Oswald hid the letter in the book, and they most definitely are coming back. Charlie now realized he could be in imminent danger. He knew he had to go and go now. His hands were now trembling, and his heart was racing, knowing he had might have discovered information concerning the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

Charlie wasn’t sure if he was being watched, but he knew keeping the letter in a safe place was vital. He had a locker in the library where law students can keep personal items. It had a lock and was located near the front desk and was in view of the person working the desk 24 hours a day. After placing the letter still inside the book in his locker, he walked over to a payphone in the lobby and dialed Bonnie’s number, knowing she would still be awake studying. When she answered, Charlie said, “Just listen. I have come across something, that I’m not sure how to handle. I’m going to need your help. Pick me up at the side entrance to the law library, the one off of Dominican Street in ten minutes.” Before Bonnie could say anything, Charlie hung up.

“ What the hell, Charlie? “ Bonnie complained as he jumped into the passenger seat. “Drive to your apartment, and I will explain,” Charlie replied. They drove in silence for the five minutes it took to get to her apartment on Lowerline Street. They walked in the back door, and Charlie said, “Leave the lights off.” He walked to the front windows facing Lowerline and looked out the blinds to see if any cars were outside. Charlie motioned Bonnie to sit at the kitchen table. He explained that he surprised two guys in the library and when they saw him, they took off. One was holding a book, but in the process of getting away, he dropped it. He told her how the book was mis-shelved. He looked her in the eyes and said, “Bonnie, on the first page of the book was a handwritten name. It was L.H. Oswald, and buried inside the pages was a letter to Marguerite. Marguerite is Oswald’s mother. The letter was signed by Lee Harvey Oswald. He is confessing to her about what he was about to do and who ordered the assassination of John Kennedy. I have no idea why the letter was in this book and if Oswald is the one who put it there. The guys that had the book looked out of place. They were dressed as businessmen, and when I startled them, both just took off.” He told her the names mentioned within the letter, and he left it in his locker at the law library. Bonnie sat there in shocked silence and finally said, “Oswald was born in New Orleans and stayed here right before moving his family to Dallas. It could be authentic.” In a frightened voice, Bonnie said, “Charlie, what do we do now?” “Nothing. We stay here till morning. There is a professor I trust at the law school. I took two of his classes. We have met a few times in his office and discussed my interest in working for the government after law school. He is ex-military and is always telling me about his behind the scenes connections. I think he might be able to advise us on the next step.”

March 12, 1964 7:45 a.m.

Professor Lafayette Leake started reading the letter that Charlie mentioned to him on the phone earlier this morning.

To Marguerite:

I am moving to Dallas to do a job. I just wanted you to know I am only doing this to help secure our future. My bosses Mr. Tolson and Mr. Hoover have guaranteed safe passage to Russia immediately after completing of the job. I am to meet a Mr. Ruby who will take us to a private airfield in Ft. Worth to begin our journey. Marina and me will be able to start our new lives in the city where we met. I am so sorry for all the pain you will endure from my actions.

Love Lee

Leake looked at Charlie and said, “This information must never reach the FBI.” Charlie replied, “I know. I just want it out of my possession and in the hands of the right people.” “I have a contact in the Pentagon that reports to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He can pass this document to his Superior, and within hours, an investigation will be launched. Are you on board with that?” Charlie stared back at Leake, and all he could say was, “Yes.” Leake advised them to lay low for a few days, maybe even go out of town. He assured them that things would be okay and their names would not be linked to the Oswald letter.

After Charlie and Bonnie left Leake’s office, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. On the other end a voice said, “Clyde Tolson.” “ Clyde, this is Lafayette. They just left. I have your smoking gun.” “Leake, nothing else on the phone. Met me at the Roosevelt in an hour.” Leake took a folder, placed the letter inside, grabbed his hat, and headed for the door. Tolson sat at his desk a moment, took a deep breath and then picked up the phone and called Edgar.

March 12, 1964 9:15 a.m.

Leake entered the Roosevelt Hotel and walked to the bar. Sitting in the back was Tolson, smoking a cigar. Leake sat down, placed the folder on the table and said, “This is what Oswald was doing that night in the library when he spotted your agents.” He pushed the folder toward Clyde. He opened it and read the letter that was inside. “That son of a bitch, he was confessing to his goddamn mother. I will get this to Edgar this morning. You go back to the university and wait for further instructions.” As Leake was getting up to leave, he said, “Sometimes vengeance is just as good as justice, and this was Oswald’s vengeance if something when wrong,” and then he left the bar. Clyde reread the letter, then crumbled it into a ball, placed it in the ashtray, took a match from his coat pocket, and lit the paper. With a smile on his face, Clyde watched Oswald’s letter slowly turn to ash.

March 13, 1964 5:30 a.m.

A truck drove past the newsstand at the corner of Canal and St. Charles, a bundle of the Times-Picayune newspaper's hit the concrete in front of the stand.

On the front page was the headline.

LAW STUDENTS KILLED IN FIERY CAR CRASH ON PONTCHARTRAIN EXPRESSWAY

On page three, a headline read.

LAFAYETTE LEAKE, LOYOLA LAW PROFESSOR AND FORMER FBI EMPLOYEE COMMITS SUICIDE