𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕪 •𝕁𝔽𝕂•

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ

(November 23, 1963, evening)

My tiny one bedroom apartment in Downtown Dallas seemed even more cramped and suffocating today. Third glass of wine and numerous cigarettes later, I still wasn't feeling any better. I curled up deeper into my blanket that covered my lower body as I sat on the couch in the dark living room, staring randomly at the ceiling as the events of yesterday flew through my mind like a movie.

Suddenly, my telephone started ringing. My eyebrows creased into a frown and my head sharply turned towards the telephone. I emptied the ashes from my cigarette into the ashtray and got up , practically dragging myself to the phone. My hand curled around the red coloured receiver and I lifted it, placing it to my ears.

"Hello?"

"Hello there, am I speaking to Miss Joanna Thompson?" A male voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, this is she. How can I help you?" I asked.

"My name is Emmanuel Pollard and I am calling from Life Magazine and we would like to -"

"Mr Pollard, with all due respect, I would request you not to call me again since I have no intentions of giving you my story." I snapped, furiously, my lips quivering due to anger. I heard a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Miss Thompson, what you witnessed on that day is something that the world deserves to know. They deserve to know the ordeal you faced and they deserve to know the truth about what really happened. There is only one person who can give the people the answer they want," he concluded the sentence with a long exhale and then cleared his throat.

"Mr. Pollard, it has barely been 24 hours since Mrs. Kennedy passed, I don't think any of us is ready to really listen to what really happened yet. I stick to my words, I have no intentions of giving an interview so soon. Good night." With a loud bang, I slammed the receiver back and fuming, I walked back to the couch and fell back, burying my face into my hands.

I had barely registered the phone call that had just happened minutes earlier when I heard someone rasping on my front door. Slightly alarmed as I wasn't used to having visitors around at this inappropriate hour, I looked down at my night dress and my legs that were showing through it. I quickly grabbed my robe to cover my half naked body and tied the knot tight in the middle before making my way up to the front door. My window was at a strategic position, just adjacent to the front door. This meant that I could use it to check who was standing on the opposite side of the door.

I schooshed my head through the opening between the curtains and saw a man dressed in black suit and trousers with a hat on his head, standing outside the door. I kept looking at him for a few seconds until my mouth fell open almost when I realized who he was. He was none other than Kenny O'Donnell, part of President Kennedy's Irish mafia. Immediately, I rushed to the door and unlocked it, opening it only partially.

"Miss Thompson." He spoke in a business like tone. "I'm Ke –".

"I know who you are, Mr. O' Donnell. Please come in." I nodded curtly and moved out of the way. Kenny O'Donnell stepped inside, but not before taking a good glance around the neighbourhood for any prying eyes if any. Once he was sure that no one had noticed him, he stepped inside and I locked the door behind us.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked, nervously , toying with the hem of my robe.

"No, thank you, Miss Thompson. I'm here for something important, Miss." He said and walked up to my couch and took a seat. My eyes fell on a golden coloured envelope in his grip. I raised an eyebrow slightly waiting for him to speak.

"I was instructed to personally deliver this to you, Miss Thompson. But also, I'm under strict instructions to burn the letter as soon as you are done reading it." He threw out his palm towards me and I grabbed the envelope nervously staring at the presidential seal on it.