If only I'd reacted, I could have taken that shot. I looked over, I saw him, I could tell he was hit. The sun was out, been raining all morning, the air was. But Leary, he questioned whether I had the guts to take that fatal bullet. Whether there was one weapon, or whether there was five. How it was the Cubans, or the C.I.A., or the white supremacists, or the Mob. For years, I've been listening to all these idiots on barstools with all their pet theories on Dallas.Wish I could have been there for you, pal. You're a good man, and good men like you and me are destined to travel a lonely road. But I worry, that you have no life to get on with Frank. I wonder, Frank, did you kill me? Who won our game? Not that it really matters, for among friends like you and me, it's not whether you win or lose but how you play the game, and now the game is done and it's time to get on with your life. The President is most likely dead, and so am I. By the time you hear this, it'll be over. Do you wish you'd succeeded, Frank? Or is life too precious? Late at night, when the demons come, do you see the rifle coming out of that window, or do you see Kennedy's head being blown apart? If you'd reacted to that first shot, could you have gotten there in time to stop the big bullet? And if you had - that could've been your head being blown apart. You must have looked up at the window of the Texas Book Depository, but you didn't react. What did happen to you that day? Only one agent reacted to the gunfire, and you were closer to Kennedy than he was.
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