Suspicions Mount in Young Kennedy's Death by Michael Hafter Freelance Journalist July 25, 1999 All Rights Reserved (Permission Given to Copy Intact) Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts. The obvious doubts surrounding young John Kennedy's death are already mounting up to a staggering list of unanswered questions. Eyewitnesses have come forward to report a bright flash over the Atlantic. Conflicting reports of clear and cloudy weather over the crash site are, without question, irreconcilable. John-John's flight instructors are now telling us of a careful student who, if anything, underestimated his abilities. No sooner had newspapers printed close-up pictures of a suitcase and business card, allegedly those of Lauren Bessette, when doubts arose as to its ability to float to any shore, even in calm seas. And, since when does shattered landing gear float? Was the son of a President murdered and, if so, why? The inevitable rash of references to the Camelot mystique have served to obscure a pattern of historical facts all too familiar to informed Americans. John's famous father, President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was assassinated in Dallas some 36 years ago by an obviously coordinated cabal. Lee Harvey Oswald's "window" of opportunity was the head shot he had as the motorcade approached the Texas Book Depository: the target was then unobstructed, slowing down, and getting larger. Ask any KGB or CIA how they do it. Even trained FBI marksmen could not duplicate the feat required to hit the same target moments later, at an oblique angle, with elm trees in the way of a right-handed bolt action better known for bad jokes about its propensity to jam. The President's head was hit either by a powerful deer rifle, fired from the grassy knoll, and/or a hand gun fired from a storm drain in front of eyewitness Abraham Zapruder. The 8 millimeter Zapruder Film is the best forensic proof, because the other "Best Evidence" -- the wounds on Jack's body -- were altered en route to Bethesda Naval Hospital. Author David Lifton "follows the body," in his famous book by the same name. What was JFK Senior doing, or planning, to warrant his untimely demise? History is not completely silent on this point. Of all the theories which still hold water, his Executive Orders authorizing U.S. Notes -- the "red dot" currency -- have regularly been down-played by a socialist media alliance. But, the evidence is there, even in last year's annual report of the New York FED: those banks rake in tons of interest annually on their Federal Reserve Notes ("FRN") -- a mighty castle of papier-mache, and a foundation of sand. As one keen observer has quipped, the "system" has within it the seeds of its own destruction -- bank racket Babylon -- pearls of cancer in a dying oyster bed. In contrast, JFK's U.S. Notes were interest-free, and the FED had to put an immediate stop to this end run by the Oval Office. Their ultimate motives were very far from standard bureaucratic survival. Most recently, Alan Greenspan fell silent in response to a simple question about the FED's charitable contributions, if any, during his long tenure as Chairman. The real answer: New York's FED spent 3 years of effort to convince high schools in Puerto Rico to teach economics. Read "indoctrination" [sic]. So much for charity. Fast-forward to John Junior, heir apparent to the family dynasty, such as it is. The darkness now descended upon the D.C. is so thoroughly documented, one would have to be blind and deaf not to know the sordid facts. The District of Columbia itself is a city planned -- of evil, by evil, and for evil. Charity? Forget it! When this author was a summer intern in the nation's Capital, the winning coach in the Potomac rowing contest was routinely tossed in that river and then chloroformed to disinfect the sewage soaking his clothes (not a metaphor). Young John had chosen journalism, and needed no help from a mainstream media, bought and sold a thousand times over, to see the killing fields in his own backyard. D.C. has now become a city synonymous with filth, and death, intent on "reaching out." Young John had also chosen charity, with a poise and grace reminding us all of mother Jacqueline's memorable tours of a newly decorated White House -- hearts up-lifted by small children's laughter filling history's hallways. That was our camelot, small "c" version. Look carefully now at Senator Kennedy's pose, in life jacket and leaning over the fan tail of a Coast Guard cutter, as it trolls for body parts in the Atlantic's shallows. Contemplate the grief of this man as he stares into the murky depths of a nation gone mad. Not just another son, but his beautiful wife and her equally beautiful sister. These are days which leave permanent hollows in our souls, and community chests. Some say that parents' worst grief is to witness the loss of their children. Politics aside, Ted must now endure the mental torture of realizing America's been stolen, and he's helpless to take the helm any longer, if ever he could. Sweet solace, alcohol. We cannot rightly blame him, really, so great are the forces arrayed against America's highest principles. Surely, this is spiritual warfare, at its peak. What America can now expect, with the greatest of expectations, is a spectacle already repeated ad nauseam. Plausible denials will proliferate, and the truth will sink under clouds of murky, slimy kelp, bio-engineered by our friendly local thugs. Here's real money (NOT paper!) on a bet that our vaulted Department of Justice is already busy covering tracks. I now believe John Kennedy, Jr., was murdered. Perhaps the Senator from Pennsylvania will head up yet another commission -- or would that be a another Spectacle? Now, will someone please prove that I am totally, utterly, and demonstrably WRONG? PLEASE! I want proof. I need proof. Without proof, I do not have any viable alternatives. I do not WANT to believe that American government is now some "New World," ruled and ordered by a murder and extortion racket dooming any prospect of statesmen, or justice, or genuine leadership in any branch, state or federal. Rest in Peace, John-John. You are back home -- with Mom and Dad. # # #
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