The Day John Fitzgerald Kennedy Past. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

struck by the amount of noise at this hour but as I was led to my cell, dragging a mattress, blanket, towel, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, trying to walk in shower shoes that had to be size 14 for my 10 1/2 left me to scooting like I was skating, I got a glimpse of the construction which had an open center with cells around it. There were TV's on each floor controlled by the black trustees who programmed BET and soaps as loud as the sets would permit so that all the blacks on any floor could watch.

      On arrival at the cell, the door opened and I was told to step forward...I could not see there were no lights on in the cell.

      "Can you turn on the light?" I asked the guard.

      "Better ask Ham...he owns this cell" the guard responded.

      From the corner of the cell there was a grunt..."leave the fucking light off!"

      I stood there hoping to acclimate to the darkness. My eyes took on a new life... I could make out a window with holes in the glass and a wall outside that was twenty-five feet tall with razor wire, there were two iron beds or cots, a wash basin, toilet, small desk and chair.

      I drugged the mattress to the bed with nothing on it and placed it on the metal shelf. I put the soap, toothpaste and brush in the towel as a pillow, kicked off the shower shoes and fell into a deep sleep as I heard myself make the comment...” No offense.

       THE NEXT DAY

      I do not recall dreaming, or moving... I slept as though as I had been gassed and when I woke I thought that I was in Hilarity Hall at the circus...there sat this elderly man...who looked 100, had a huge white beard...and no clothes as he stared at me from the next bed.

      "Thought you had died pilgrim." He said.

      "I had a rough twelve hours." I said

      "Try twenty-four hours," he said "You have lost track of time."

      “Too bad my times not up,"

      “‘Guess the diesel therapy you spoke of in your sleep was like riding a bucking bronco without a saddle?" He laughed.

      “That is a mild understatement...I came out of a life threatening situation at Manchester where a Cambodian nurse tried to poison me, because, you know, I was responsible for the war and ate up all their dogs and rats...so I lost 55 pounds in about 45 days, high fever, vomiting yellow poison and bleeding pure blood for three weeks."

      “Dammit.” He said.

      " Yeh...would have died if it had not been for an inmate named Joe Bicket from Marion County, who was in for growing weed...told me I had to file a habeas action to get in front of a federal judge."

      “So you became the next Perry Mason?

      “Not quite, but I may be the only guy in America who dropped his pants for a woman judge." I laughed at myself.

      "The hell you did pilgrim."

      "Sure did, and when she saw all that blood she came unglued...started screaming and pointing at the warden...who was also a woman...demanding that she take the stand.

      "What is this...no don't answer that, I can see what it is and it needs your prompt attention...take this man to the Hazard Hospital today!"

      "So two weeks after this surgery, they place you on diesel therapy to the Gulag?"

      "Pure hatred from those sworn to protect the rights of inmates to medical care from a Country reaching out to protect the oppresses throughout the world who are downtrodden and whose civil rights have been taken from them...makes you want to barf."

      "You sound like a man with experience."

      "Oh, I know a thing or two." He said.

      "I have nothing but time, and don't know when the next coach leaves, " I said, "Maybe a couple of days or a couple of years...but after seven months in prison, have come to three definitive conclusions which are essential for getting through this nightmare."

      #1 would be" He said.

      "I promise not to say another religious thing to you, since religion is quite the sensitive issue in prison...but you did ask for it...and # 1 has to do with the Lord's prayer that Christ taught us over two thousand years ago which says, Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us."

      "So you must forgive everyone who has kicked you in the nuts."

      "You know...you are half smart."

      "I'm anxious for #2." He laughed.

      "I'm going to need this time to come to grips with the heavy depression I'm suffering as a result of the death of my beloved son."

      “We will come back to that...after #3."

      " You have to take a huge stretch to understand # 3...In 1959 I was a high school student working a part-time job as the mail boy at Louisville Credit Men’s Association. Around the corner the Democratic Party had its headquarters...Danville Davis; the janitor introduced me to the place as a spot for good eats to draw a crowd. There was a great deal of excitement over a visit by Senator Kennedy, a candidate for the presidency. It was my first vote since I was turning 18. So Danville and I went to the headquarters."

      “Did you see him?"

      “Not only saw him, I shook his hand!"

      “And you haven't washed your hand since... and that is #3?"

      “I take my Kennedy politics very seriously... you see Kennedy is not only my hero, my mentor...but he is my saint as well and I promised myself that one day I would write a book as a legacy to his memory and my part in it...that hand shake, so that my children and grandchildren will know in 50 years, how important Kennedy was to this Country...and I will not let them forget him."

      “Well, alright pilgrim," The old man using his best John Wayne..."where are you with this mind altering transformation?"

      "I'm not even close...I've only been down less than a year."

      "Well little partner, you got the talkin’ part done."

      "I know that one...its Clint Eastwood." “So say the magic word, and win $ 100!" "That would be Groucho...Groucho Marx."

      "Son, we're going to get along just fine, if you'll accept the advice I want to give you...coming from a man who is seventy-five and has been down for 42 years...most of it in this cell."

      I could not believe what I had heard but chose to say nothing...just listened.

      "While it is magnanimous of you to forgive those who were responsible for taking your freedom, it’s an exercise in futility... when your Christ said at first...'Forgive them Father, they know not what they do!'

      Just remember that was followed by his final words...'Eli, Eli, Lama Sabacthani'The translation please...the old man said pointing to me as through he was the master of ceremonies"

      “My God, My God. Why hath thou forsaken me?" I said.

      "So you see, even in the most tragic death in the history of mankind, the God made Son chocked on his misery...you can have one way or the other...and it is my belief that at the end of the day you will be just like Christ...cursing those who took their own form of justice...a lynch mob...took you down to the hanging tree to dispense justice...those who conspired against you, destroyed your family, burnt your ranch to the ground, stole all you cattle, killed your son...and took vengeance on you because you refused to wear the blue pin-striped suit and red tie."

      "42 years." I said (lost on the question)

      "Yes, for sedition...because I know something about the truth behind the Kennedy murder and the government’s role in it."

      “But sedition?" I asked.

      “I think Black's Law Dictionary says that sedition is perhaps the very vaguest of all offenses known in the criminal