To the Editor,
A dreary day in Camelot with silver overcast. A parade would seem unlikely if the rain should dare to last. No rain shall fall on this parade; theyíve waited far too long. They want to see the magic one more time before itís gone.† The young and dashing leader with his queen there by his side.
A crowd on hand to cheer and wave; to show their love and pride. They lined the streets to celebrate his visit to their town. Unknown to all among their midst a clock was ticking down.
The entourage proceeded on its fateful chosen route. The course would serve the purpose, and provided no way out. The limousines were in a line and open to the air. The storm was bearing down and still the crowd seemed unaware.† Then lightening struck and left them all just staring in surprise.
A sea of happy faces quickly turned to teary eyes. The handsome leader smiling as he gave us his last wave. The plan now executed sent that leader to his grave. †
The ones to gain the throne that day assured the storm was done. A dreadful case of one lost soul and one mail order gun. No need to think that it was any more or less than this. We know thatís just what happened, not a single clue weíve missed. They snuffed out all the evidence and swept it all away. And now our book of history tells this fairy tale today. The people bought the story like a flock of mindless sheep.† And half a century later Camelot is still asleep.
I was just a lad of 10 the day that storm rolled in. And Iím not sure this nation ever was the same again. Iíve never understood the power that keeps the myth intact. That just one man could lay a plan to pull off that attack. Iíve always thought that in my life the truth would be revealed. That justice would be served and that our wounds could then be healed. I know that time will finally show that stormís destructive toll. One shot that pierced our hearts that day came from that grassy knoll.††† †