Justification For Killing (21 page)

The Captain
thought,
they are at this exact moment,
putting the final plans in place to kill President Kennedy.
“Thanks, thank you very much,” he replied to
Linda.

She started back to
her stool at the bar to resume looking at her
Teen Screen
magazine, but she slowed
a step or two to look at the ten-dollar bill before folding it and
putting it in her apron pocket. “Hey!’ She said, walking back to
Clem and Captain Scarburg’s table. “What you trying to pull Clemson
Ruby? This ten spot you give me is counterfeit!!” Holding the bill
up so Clem and Grandpa could see. “Look at this thing! This ain’t
even a good copy! Look at the head, it’s way too big, and the color
is all wrong.” The Captain had forgotten the eighteen dollars he
had in his pocket were perfectly good 2012 money, but it surely was
different from the ‘green-backs’ of the 1960s.

“
I’m sorry Linda,” he said
retrieving the bill. “That is ‘play’ money from one of my kid’s
board games. In this dark light, I did not recognize it. Sorry. I
must have put the game money in my pocket by mistake.”

“
Ah heck fellers. That’s
okay - you don’t need to give me no tip. I’ve been waitressing here
during the day, and I have a dance act at night, “Miss Kandy Barr”,
so I make good money. I figure this is just temporary, maybe I’ll
be discovered one day, but thanks anyway. Oh, Clem don’t tell Mr.
Ruby you know me, I told him I was from Las Vegas.”

“
Shore, Linda Lou mums the
word.”

Linda was back thumbing
through the pages of her magazine when the group of men in the back
room with Ruby got up to leave. One of the men threw Linda some tip
money on the table. Then as if in the military, the seven of them
walked single file toward the exit at the top of the stairs. The
last in line touched the brim of his hat and nodded in a
gentlemanly manner as he passed Linda at the bar. With the other
hand, he slipped her some folded money. Glancing down she saw it
was a C-Note, a hundred dollar bill! He watched for her response -
albeit, he was older, but a devilishly handsome Italian man, he got
the response he was looking for, she gave him a sexy grin and
winked.

The time was 2:15
p.m.

“
Come on Clem, let’s go
talk with Uncle Jack. We need a place to stay tonight.”

Before they had a chance
to stand Jack Ruby approached their table. “May I sit?”

Clem motioned for his
Uncle Jack to take a seat. “How you been doin’ Uncle
Jack?”

“
Fine Clem, and you? Did
you come by to see me for something, or what?”

“
Been doin’ good Uncle
Jack, but me and John are goin’ to have to spend the nite in Dallas
afore goin’ back to Celina... I wuz jest wonderin’ if we could use
one of your exter rooms fer the nite?”

“
No problem Clem, pick out
whichever one you want except the one with the big shinny star on
it - it will be occupied tonight,” Ruby said winking. The Captain
glanced at the door - what was the star’s purpose? Who was going to
be occupying it? Oh well, at least he and Clem had a place to spend
the night.

“
Glad to have you both
stay with me tonight. Give you a good chance to watch my floorshow.
I got me a winner with my headliner Miss Kandy Barr.”

“
We didn’t mean to impose
on you Mr. Ruby,” the Captain responded. “Thanks for the offer of
your place for the night. Love to see your show tonight too. We met
Miss Barr, she seems real nice and she’s an eyeful too.”

“
Wait ‘til you see her
dance boys.”

“
Can’t wait.” Sliding up
closer to the table Captain Scarburg leaned over and asked, “Mr.
Ruby, could I ask you a question? Do you know a man by the name of
Oswald?”

Reeling back with a look
of surprise Ruby shifted his weight in his chair, and nervously
glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching answered,
“Lee Oswald, you say?”

“
Yeah, Lee Harvey Oswald,”
the Captain said as he caught the reference Jack made to the name
“Lee Oswald.” He only asked Jack if he knew, ‘a man by the name of
Oswald?’ The Captain had never mentioned Oswald by his first
name.

“
Lee
Harvey Oswald,” Ruby said nervously again. The Captain could tell
Jack knew Oswald personally or knew something about him. “Na...
na... nah, I thought I knew him, but on second thought, I’ve never
heard of him. Why you so interested?” Ruby removed his fedora and
using his white handkerchief wiped the sweat from his balding
head.
Why did Ruby get so hot all of a
sudden
, the Captain thought?
Or was that a signal to
someone?

“
Oh, no particular reason
some acquaintances said if I got to Dallas to look him up, just
thought I would give it a shot. Clem said you knew a lot of
people.”

Earlier when Captain
Scarburg and Clem entered the club, the lights were so dim they
could not identify the other customers sitting around a couple of
the other booths and tables. He thought anyone sitting in a bar at
that hour of the morning was either a drunk or a patron who was
still there from the previous night. The Captain was
wrong!

Chapter
Fifteen

“
YOU’RE UNDER
ARREST”

“
Hey fellow stand up and
put your hands on the table,” a voice from behind Captain Scarburg
gruffly demanded as he punched the Captain’s shoulder. Turning in
his seat, he saw a couple of Dallas police officers standing at the
table glaring down at him. These two had obviously been a couple of
the supposed “drunks” sitting at one of the tables. The Captain did
not know Jack Ruby gave the police free food and free alcohol. That
was his way of staying in their good graces, and he considered them
as they did him, friends. These two officers had merely been in the
Carousel eating their free lunch when Captain Scarburg and Clem
arrived. “I said, git up mister,” the officer compelled, sharply
grabbing the Captain by one of the straps of his overalls and
jerked him to his feet.

“
What’s going on officer?
I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“
Nothing wrong, huh? What
about them clothes you got on - we got a bulletin someone had
robbed an old couple up north of here, and the thief was wearing a
red flannel shirt and a pair of blue denim overalls with a tear in
the right knee. Seems to fit you to a tee mister, but do you and
him have the same tailor? Put your hands behind your back, you’re
under arrest.

“
Under arrest?” The
Captain shockingly responded. “For what offense?”

“
Breaking and
Entering.”

“
Hold on a minute Tommy, I
can vouch for these men - I’m sure you have the wrong guy,” Ruby
said to Officer Thomas Traylor.

“
This fellow been here
long Jack? The robbery took place yesterday. Can you vouch for his
whereabouts on Wednesday?”

“
Well... well... no. Sorry
Mister Doess.”

Speaking to Clem the
Captain quietly said, “I don’t have any money for bail, but I have
this Rolex watch - the crystal is broken, and it does not run but
it’s made of eighteen karat gold. Can you take it to a pawnshop and
get what you can for it and come back and bail me out?” Turning to
the officers he asked, “Officers where will I be taken?”

“
We’re carrying you to the
Dallas City Jail over on Houston Street. Houston is on the east
side of Dealy Plaza.”

Even with all the
commotion Captain Scarburg couldn’t help but think,
‘
that’s the same jail Lee Harvey Oswald
will be held in tomorrow afternoon, and this man sitting right here
in front of me is going to kill him Sunday in that same jailhouse
basement. What a strange world.’

The time was 2:06 p.m.
Thursday, November 21, 1963.

By the time the booking of
Captain Scarburg had been completed, and he had been taken to his
cell at the Dallas City Jail the sun was beginning to drop behind
the Texas School Book Depository. No one realized, except Captain
Scarburg on the sixth floor in Cell Number Two, today’s setting of
the sun was the end of an age - the Age of Innocence for the United
States. Drastic changes were about to occur after sunrise the
following morning. After tomorrow, the U.S. and the rest of the
world would never be the same again. Was it premonition, fate or
just the luck of the draw but Cell Number Two was the same cell
that would house Lee Harvey Oswald tomorrow night.

Sitting in his cell,
Captain Scarburg could look out his window, and see the Texas
School Book Depository building just across the way. It was located
on the north side of Dealy Plaza facing Elm Street, and the Dallas
City Jail, where the Captain was firmly secured, was on the east
side facing Houston Street. He wondered,
did I come to Dallas from the 21st century, for nothing?
Surely not! I can’t do anything tomorrow from this cell. I have to
be on the Book building roof at exactly 12:30. How? How? Darn it,
I’ve got to get out of here. Where is Clem?

At ten o’clock, the
main lights in the jail cells were extinguished. The two firelights
and the exit sign above the door to the main booking room provided
enough dim light to illuminate the hallway in front of the cells
quite well. But it wasn’t the lights keeping Captain Scarburg awake
- it was his nerves. His were a total wreck. He lay on the worn
out, thin mattress of his bunk with his hands behind his head,
staring at the ceiling, thinking – his mind wasn’t on the thin
mattress or the rusty, iron bunk he was thinking,
I’ve come so far, traveled through time from one
parallel universe to another and survived. The history of the world
surely cannot come down to one old flannel shirt and a pair of
worn-out overalls. Surely not!

Nothing was heard, but the
squeaking of his bed springs as he slowly arose from his bunk,
walked to the bars of his cell and peered down the hallway at the
clock high on the wall at the far end.

The time was 12:15 a.m.,
Friday, November 22, 1963.

He knew the date -
that terrible day had arrived - Friday, November 22, 1963.
By-ned just fifteen more minutes and I’ll only
have twelve hours! Twelve short hours! Can this be done? Can I
interrupt the shooter on that building?
Shuffling back over to his cell window he once again looked
across the street to the now darkened red bricks of the Texas
School Book Depository building. The waxing crescent moon cast just
enough light to allow him to get a glimpse of the sixth floor
sniper’s window. The building didn’t seem so significant, and
tonight it wasn’t. No one knew its name except the people who
worked there. Tomorrow in the daylight it would take on a sinister
aura. Its name would be known, not only to the inhabitants of
Dallas, but to the country as a whole, no, not just the United
States, but to the whole wide world.

A building, build of wood,
brick, plaster and paint would take on a life of its own. Everyone
would know its name - it would become famous - maybe the word
infamous would be more fitting; however, Captain Scarburg knew
whether he was released from that cell or the assassin on the roof
of the building was successful, the seven story, brick building
looming just within a stone’s throw of his cell would forever be
remembered in history.

As Captain Scarburg peered
into the blackness of the night, he thought about that building so
inconsequential, so insignificant, so irrelevant, just a building,
nothing more nothing less - tonight!! It was quite; spooky quite as
he gazed at the foreboding structure. Off in some trees across
Dealy Plaza he heard the sounds of a Nightingale singing its
mournful tune in the dark. Another time, another place, this would
be idyllic, he thought.

The Texas School Book
Depository was destined to become an American historical place. It
would become consequential, significant and relevant -
tomorrow.

OFFICER J. D.
TIPPIT

Standing at his window
staring at the Book Depository, he heard the keys jangling as one
of the guards unlocked the entrance door into the cellblock. A
tall, slim built man Captain Scarburg reasoned to be in his
thirties dressed in the uniform of a Dallas police officer entered
to perform the hourly cell check. The Captain sizing him up
determined him to be a hardworking, good-looking young fellow.
Strange, thought Captain Scarburg, how remarkable he resembled the
President John F. Kennedy. As he neared Captain Scarburg’s cell, he
was startled to see Captain Scarburg standing with his hands
tightly gripping the cold steel bars to his cell.

“
What’s the trouble
Prisoner No. Two? Having a hard time sleepin’? You’re actin’ like
you’re goin’ to an execution tomorrow,” the jailer said
grinning.

“
Execution... huh?” The Captain said mulling it over in his
mind. “Execution...? Yeah, you might say that.” He replied,
glancing at the guard’s nametag on his left front breast
pocket,
‘TIPPIT’
it read as he released his hands from the bars and walked
back to his bunk. Under his breath, Captain Scarburg said, “Officer
J. D. Tippit!!”