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exactitude because there was no clock and my new Timex had been taken with the rest of my personal
effects), the same two uniforms brought me some company. An old acquaintance, in fact: Dr. Malcolm
Perry, toting a large black country doctor’s medical bag. I regarded him with mild astonishment. He
was here at the police station visiting me because he didn’t have to be at Parkland Hospital, picking
bits of bullet and shards of bone out of John Kennedy’s brain. The river of history was already moving
into its new course.
“Hello, Dr. Perry.”
He nodded. “Mr. Amberson.” The last time he’d seen me, he’d called me George. If I’d had any
doubts about being under suspicion, that would have confirmed them. But I didn’t. I’d been there, and
I’d known what was about to happen. Bonnie Ray Williams would already have told them as much.
“I understand you’ve reinjured that knee.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Let’s have a look.”
He tried to pull up my left pants leg and couldn’t. The joint was too swollen. When he produced a
pair of scissors, both cops stepped forward and drew their guns, keeping them pointed at the floor
with their fingers outside the trigger guards. Dr. Perry looked at them with mild astonishment, then
cut the leg of my pants up the seam. He looked, he touched, he produced a hypodermic needle and
drew off fluid. I gritted my teeth and waited for it to be over. Then he rummaged in his bag, came out
with an elastic bandage, and wrapped the knee tightly. That provided some relief.
“I can give you something for the pain, if these officers don’t object.”
They didn’t, but I did. The most crucial hour of my life—and Sadie’s—was dead ahead. I didn’t
want dope clouding my brain when it rolled around.
“Do you have any Goody’s Headache Powder?”
Perry wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something bad. “I have Bayer Aspirin and Emprin.
The Emprin’s a bit stronger.”
“Give me that, then. And Dr. Perry?”
He looked up from his bag.
“Sadie and I didn’t do anything wrong. She gave her life for her country . . . and I would have given
mine for her. I just didn’t get the chance.”
“If so, let me be the first to thank you. On behalf of the whole country.”
“The president. Where is he now? Do you know?”
Dr. Perry looked at the cops, eyebrows raised in a question. They looked at each other, then one of
them said, “He’s gone on to Austin, to give a dinner speech, just like he was scheduled to do. I don’t
know if that makes him crazy-brave or just stupid.”
Maybe, I thought, Air Force One was going to crash, killing Kennedy and everyone else on board. Maybe
he was going to have a heart attack or a fatal stroke. Maybe some other chickenshit bravo was going to blow his
handsome head off. Did the obdurate past work against the things changed as well as against the
change-agent? I didn’t know. Nor much care. I had done my part. What happened to Kennedy from
this point on was out of my hands.
“I heard on the radio that Jackie isn’t with him,” Perry said quietly. “He sent her on ahead to the
vice president’s ranch in Johnson City. He’ll join her there for the weekend as planned. If what you say
is true, George—”
“I think that’s enough, doc,” one of the cops said. It certainly was for me; to Mal Perry I was
George again.
Dr. Perry—who had his share of doctor’s arrogance—ignored him. “If what you say is true, then I
see a trip to Washington in your future. And very likely a medal ceremony in the Rose Garden.”
After he departed, I was left alone again. Only not really; Sadie was there, too. How we danced, she’d