When I was a kid I was told that “iI faut toujours mettre le bourricot en dernier” meaning that “You always put the Jackass at the end” (of a sentence.) In this case the Jackass is yours truly, therefore the title of this post should read: Oswald, Daylight’s End and I. But it’s my blog so I write what I want.
I might have been in the 7th or 8th grade when I was assigned to write an essay for my French class. (Quick note, I am French. Born and raised on the beautiful Côte d’Azur, in Provence.) A long way from Texas, I can tell you that much. Anyways, the topic of my assignment: Write a story that takes place in the past or the future with you as the main character. A fun, creative task. For no particular reason I decided that my character, me, would be transported into a recent past, November 22 1963, standing in the middle of the Grassy Knoll in Big D… little did I know that a few years later I would call the infamous city home.
Three shots (allegedly) fired from the sixth floor of the book depository building at the corner of Elm and Houston St. stunned America and the rest of the world.
He was incarcerated in the municipal building, located along S. Harwood St. between Main and Commerce. As History has it, he would never leave the building alive. Two days later, on November 24th, Oswald was gunned down in the garage basement while being escorted out by by the police.
His killer? Jack Ruby, a strip club owner hopped up on Preludin (diet pills) casually walked into the police headquarters and shot him dead.