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The Infamous David Ferrie

By Brendan Feeney, with comments by Rachel Dorrell, Jack Golden, Aaron Gray, Kenneth Herring, Lynsey Hervey, Suzanne Hyslip, Kaitlyn Landers, Parimal Patel, Taylor Pope, David Primak

[1] David Ferrie figures prominently into the majority of conspiracies surrounding the assassination of President Kennedy. He has been connected to Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack Ruby, Clay Shaw, the Cubans, the C.I.A., the F.B.I., and the mafia. In the film, he provides a frenzied confession to Jim Garrison and his investigators. He openly admits to the connections listed above. He reveals crucial evidence pertaining to Oswald and Garrison’s case against Shaw. He alludes to the fact that the conspiracy involves all of the highest and most coveted governmental institutions. He emphatically proclaims that its essential players are untouchable and capable of doing absolutely anything. The scene is key to the overall plot of the film. It is brilliantly acted and beautifully photographed. Now here’s the kicker -- it never actually occurred in real life. While this does provide viewers whose knowledge of the facts is limited with a false sense of history, the scene should not be discredited simply because Stone made it up. What he is doing is rearranging the facts to fit his version of what happened. And, as the filmmaker, he has every right to do so. The fears and emotions are still there, but with slight alterations to the sequence of events that actually took place. (see comment by Suzanne Hyslip) (see comment by Lynsey Hervey) (see comment by Jack Golden) (see comment by David Primak)

[2] To fully appreciate the scene, it is imperative to first appreciate how it is constructed. There are two main purposes of this scene; one is to relay facts, the other is to depict emotion. The characters and the dialogue are obviously key elements in both of these purposes. There is another element that is easy to forget, yet is ultimately the deciding factor in how successful a given scene is. This element is the camera. Here, the camera acts as the great arbitrator of the scene -- examining the facts and deciding the issue. It serves a variety of different functions. At certain times, the camera serves as our own eyes and ears, placing us directly in the room. This is usually achieved by low level, mid-range shots. It is as if we are standing in the hotel room with Ferrie, Garrison, Lou Ivon, and Bill Broussard. We are the stoic observers -- the silent partners to the conversation. This technique is generally used when the filmmaker really wants us to focus on what each character is saying. In this specific scene, the technique is used when Ferrie explains how he knows Oswald or how the mafia works with the C.I.A. This is information that is crucial to the viewer’s understanding of plot development. It cannot afford to employ distracting camera techniques. (see comment by Rachel Dorrell)

[3] While certain simple techniques are used to relay the facts, more intricate camera techniques are meant to influence emotion and bewilderment. The camera is capable of taking on more than just the audience’s point of view. Sometimes it takes on the point of view of Garrison or one of his investigators, Lou Ivon and Bill Broussard. Garrison is seated throughout the majority of the scene. As Ferrie nervously searches the motel room, the camera clumsily follows him around with a wide range, low angle shot pointed upwards. This is meant to represent the bemused Garrison as he struggles to contemplate the strange, jittery man that he sees before him. Now we as an audience are placed in the position of Garrison. We have already seen the conversation through our own eyes, now we see it through his. In an attempt to experience all points of view, we are also placed in the position of David Ferrie. This is achieved with close range, mid angle shots of Ferrie as he stands and moves about. Once again the camera places itself at the eye level of a certain character. This is especially evident when Ferrie sees Ivon writing down what he is saying and rushes over to stop him. As Ferrie and Ivon, both standing, come into frame, we only see Ivon from the shoulders down, as he is considerably taller than Ferrie. Furthermore, the camera is not limited to the characters within the scene. It can also take on the role of outside forces. There is a certain point during the scene when Ferrie tells Garrison to look into something called Operation Mongoose (1:41:08). The camera suddenly cuts to an adjacent room, looking in on Ferrie from a low angle as he speaks. This represents the outside menace that Ferrie constantly alludes to. He declares upon entering the motel room that there is a death warrant on him and that those in a position to do so will surely kill him for talking. As he mentions Operation Mongoose and the camera shifts, we suddenly get the feeling that they really can hear him, that he has said too much, and that perhaps his predictions are true. (see comment by Kenneth Herring)

[4] The camera doesn’t necessarily have to represent any one person or being. This is merely a way to highlight a character’s emotional state and inspire that same emotion within the viewer. The camera can also represent emotions themselves. Fear, anger, paranoia, despair, panic, insanity -- the camera is capable of taking on these states of mind. For instance, a knock at the motel door is heard at one point, and Ferrie suddenly panics. The camera flies around the room rapidly. It’s blurry, unable to focus on any one point. This mimics the movement of Ferrie’s paranoid mind. The camera can also act as a shepherd, moving us along like sheep into believing whatever facts are being relayed at the time. This is achieved through reaction shots. As Ferrie admits the depths of the conspiracy, the camera often cuts to Garrison, Broussard, and Ivon. Their eyes are wide, their mouths agape in utter shock. They are finally realizing that the craziest and most improbable suspicions they have ever had are all true. The filmmakers want us to know that the characters believe it -- this assures them that we too will believe it. Finally, the camera is fundamental in establishing the scene’s climax. In Ferrie’s final diatribe, he tells Garrison that the entire situation is too big for him to ever comprehend. The camera constantly cuts from high to low, from mid-range to wide-range. As Ferrie moves, the camera is slow to follow. The delay is meant to highlight the confusion and utter panic of the situation. The speech is accompanied by frenzied drumming that picks up as Ferrie becomes more and more excited. Finally, just as Garrison offers to protect Ferrie if he testifies, the frame fills with an extreme close up of David’s face -- twisted, exhausted, and defeated -- as he mutters the words “They’d get to you, too. They’d destroy you. They’re untouchable, man.” Ferrie slouches back in his chair. The camera hangs ominously for a beat before focusing once more on Ferrie’s face as we view him for the last time. These techniques were all ingenuously woven into the scene by cinematographer Robert Richardson to enhance the fear and bewilderment created by the characters and the dialogue. Without them, the scene does not elicit the same response.

[5] What exactly is established in this scene? There is a whole slew of information thrown at the audience in a mere four minutes and twenty-nine seconds. What is it that David Ferrie confesses to Garrison? First, he establishes a connection between himself and the key players in Garrison’s investigation. He admits that he knew Lee Harvey Oswald, something that he had previously lied about. He tells Garrison that Oswald was in his Civil Air Patrol unit and that he taught Oswald everything he knew. He also confesses that he knew Jack Ruby, describing him as nothing but a pimp. Ferrie is also able to establish a connection between himself and Clay Shaw, calling him a “cocksucking faggot” who blackmailed him into working for the C.I.A. with compromising photos, presumably of him engaging in homosexual activities. He goes on to mention a man named Allayo Del Valle, a Cuban who served as his paymaster when he flew missions into Cuba. In admitting this, not only does he establish himself as a contact agent for the C.I.A., but he also includes the Cubans as another faction of the umbrella network that the Agency controls. When Ferrie is directly asked whether or not he ever worked for the C.I.A., he responds by saying “you make it sound like some remote…experience in ancient history. Man, you don’t leave the Agency. Once you’re in they’ve got you for life.” He goes on to tie all of the important characters -- Shaw, Oswald, the Cubans -- to the C.I.A. He describes Shaw as being an “untouchable” with the “highest clearance.” He also tells Garrison that the Agency and the mafia often work together on matters of “mutual interest,” such as assassinating Fidel Castro. Finally, when Garrison asks who really killed President Kennedy, Ferrie realizes that there is no way that he can ever make them understand the depth of that question: “Oh man, why don’t you…stop it! This is too…big for you…It’s a mystery. It’s a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma. The…shooters don’t even know. Don’t you get it? I can’t keep talking like this. They’re gonna…kill me! I’m gonna…die.”

[6] This information is presented in a rather formulaic interview fashion. Garrison knew exactly what he wanted to ask Ferrie, and Ferrie knew exactly what was going to be asked of him and how he was going to respond. This, of course, was no accident on the part of the writers, Oliver Stone and Zachary Sklar. The Jim Garrison of both the “reel” and the “real” had an enormous preoccupation with the report of the Warren Commission. They each tirelessly read all twenty-six volumes and were immediately struck by how many holes there seemed to be in the Commission’s investigation. I believe this fictional confession scene is set up to directly and methodically refute a majority of the major conclusions established by the Warren report. In the first chapter of the report, a narrative of the events is given followed by a summary of the Commission’s conclusions. Conclusion number nine deals specifically with what is addressed in this scene. It states that the Commission found no evidence that anyone “assisted Oswald in planning or carrying out the assassination.” It also states that the Commission was unable to find any evidence that “Oswald was involved with any person or group in a conspiracy to assassinate the President.” Finally, the report refutes the speculation that Oswald was “an agent, employee, or informant of the F.B.I., the C.I.A., or any other governmental agency.” (see comment by Kaitlyn Landers)

[7] Ferrie’s confession is absolutely paramount to Jim Garrison’s investigation into the conspiracies surrounding President Kennedy’s death. It answers all the questions that the Warren report could not or perhaps would not. It brings to light all of the facts that the Commission ignored. It uncovers all of the secrets that the government wished to conceal. Garrison and his team knew that the Warren report did not tell the entire truth. Through their exhaustive investigation, they were able to obtain certain testimonies that alluded to all of the facts disclosed by Ferrie. Each witness they interviewed sparked their curiosity. Each testimony revealed a tiny piece of the overall puzzle. They become convinced that the Warren Commission had its own agenda. The government had arrived at a decisive conclusion only days after the assassination, long before any investigation was conducted. It was the task of the Warren Commission to make its report fit the conclusions that the government had already predetermined. To do so they changed testimonies, falsified statements, and intimidated witnesses. Garrison and his team had discovered this much, but it was not enough. They needed something that would stick in court. They needed a witness who could connect all of the dots. Conspiracy theories are often criticized for lacking the “smoking gun” factor. Ferrie’s confession was as close to a smoking gun as Garrison was going to get. If he were willing to testify, it would be extremely beneficial to the prosecution’s case against Clay Shaw. There’s only one problem; not only was he unwilling to testify in real life, this confession also never happened in “real” life.

[8] On the film’s DVD commentary track, Stone admits that there is no record of David Ferrie ever saying the things he says during the scene. In his book On the Trail of the Assassins, Jim Garrison tells the real story of what occurred that day. Just as the newspapers began to reveal to the public the contents of Garrison’s investigation, Lou Ivon received a telephone call from David Ferrie. Ferrie knew and trusted Ivon, so he felt comfortable talking to him. He asked Lou if his office had intentionally given the story over to the papers. Ivon denied that Garrison and his investigators had anything to do with the story becoming public. Though Ferrie believed him, he suddenly became excited, informing Ivon that he was a dead man. Ferrie called Ivon again the next day, though this time he was much calmer. He asked how the investigation was coming along, stating that the investigation was no secret to those it was investigating and that they should continue to question the Cubans. Within twenty four hours, Ferrie called Ivon again. The press had surrounded his apartment, and he needed help. Ivon was able to reserve a room at the Fontainbleau Motel under an assumed name. He escorted Ferrie to the motel on two separate occasions. Jim Garrison never accompanied Ivon on either of these trips. A few days later, as Garrison and his team sat in his home and contemplated whether or not it was time to take Ferrie before a grand jury, they received the call that Ferrie had been found dead in his apartment. While Garrison never actually saw Ferrie during this time, he describes him as a man who was “rapidly deteriorating. His emotional stability seemed so precarious that we could not ignore the situation another day” (Garrison 161). This rapid deterioration is quite poignantly represented in the “reel,” as Joe Pesci’s performance is among the most inspiring of the entire film.

[9] We’ve already established that this confession never actually took place. So what’s the big deal? Did Oliver Stone have some sort of responsibility to accurately portray the sequence of events in his film? Roger Ebert doesn’t seem to think so. In a review he wrote on the film for the Chicago Sun-Times in 2002, he states: “As a general principle, I believe films are the wrong medium for fact. Fact belongs in print. Films are about emotions” (1). He goes on to say that “the film’s thrust is not toward truth, but toward frustration and anger. Too many lies have been told and too much evidence tainted for the truth to ever be known” (2). Consider also what Stone says on the DVD commentary right after he admits that there is no documented record of Ferrie’s confession. He asserts that it’s clear from the information provided in both the film and in Garrison’s actual investigation that all of these ties and connections could be verified in some way. So the accusations are not false, at least insofar as they are not unfounded and baseless. These facts are collected rather slowly over an extended period of time. It is far too difficult to keep track of each new piece of information as it is exposed. Stone needed some way to relay the most critical pieces of information so that the audience could fully understand them. So he decides to use Ferrie in a fragile state of mind at the Fontainbleau Motel. It could be argued that, had Garrison been present, or had they been able to talk to him before his death, he would have admitted as much to them as he does in the scene. True, this is an example of a filmmaker manipulating the “real” to produce a more entertaining and viewer-friendly version of the “reel.” But it is also a unique example of a filmmaker using actual information in a historically altered environment for the benefit of the audience. (see comment by Parimal Patel) (see comment by Taylor Pope) (see comment by Aaron Gray)

Comments

Suzanne Hyslip (August 2009)
I have very mixed feelings about Oliver Stone’s “alternate version of history.” It has been argued by many -- including both classmate Feeney and critic Roger Ebert -- that film is not the place for facts; it is the place for emotion. I think that this statement is fine; in fact, I could agree with it except that we too often run into directors who are trying to peddle these emotional interpretations as truth. That is a problem. Though Stone writes in his defense of his film that he does not intend for his viewers to take JFK literally -- in fact, he actually refers to the movie as a “metaphor” -- I think that it verges on ridiculous to expect the majority of audiences to grasp that. I know that when I first saw the film, I understood the events portrayed in it to be real. After all, the DVD did not come with a disclaimer: “Take with a grain of salt.” Of course, one cannot expect Stone to refrain from utilizing his artistic license in creating the film, but to market JFK as an historical movie intended to question the accepted truth and then include within it scenes and information that blatantly never happened? That’s a stretch. That is a stretch that flirts with manipulation of an audience to persuade them to agree with your point of view. Stone denies that he is attempting to promote his own take on the assassination through his film, but I honestly find that a hard lump to swallow. He never explains, for example, that Ferrie’s confession or the entire MR. X scene was totally fabricated. I understand that Oliver Stone is not a historian but perhaps someone should remind him of that.
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Parimal Patel (August 2009)
Feeney says that the audience benefits from the “historically altered environment,” but how does the audience benefit by altering the events of an already complicated history? Stone considers his film a “metaphor for all those doubts, suspicions, and unanswered questions,” but Stone manipulates history, which forces the audience to ask questions and creates doubt in the audience’s mind. It is hypocritical of Stone to depict a manipulated order of history when he is criticizing the government of manipulating evidence to confirm the lone-gunman theory. The only person that benefits from this manipulation is Stone. He alters the order of the history not for the benefit of the audience but to make the film more entertaining and viewer-friendly, which increases Stone’s wealth and fame. Stone’s JFK earned over $205 million worldwide. Stone was nominated for the Best Director award by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Directors Guild and won a Golden Globe for Best Director award because his film. Years after JFK's release, Stone said that the film “was the beginning of a new era for me in terms of filmmaking.” Stone’s filmmaking career flourishes because of films such as JFK. Stone creates doubt in the minds of people and weakens the integrity of our government. America prides itself in “United We Stand, Divided We Fall,” but people like Stone who imply that no one can be trusted and that our government is corrupted divide our nation. Stone’s selfishness breaks America’s unity and hurts the American people. Does the audience benefit from Stone’s actions? Absolutely not!
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Kenneth Herring (August 2009)
When watching movies, I am the type of person that gets the dreaded "tunnel vision," that is, I am watching a movie more for the emotion the images trigger rather than to examine the way the director has shot it, the camera angles, and such. I found myself very intrigued reading this specific paragraph, because it examined the scene in a way that I have a hard time doing. Feeney talks about how the scene shows many different view points and angles to get the audience immersed in the scene and help understand the feelings that each character has. I find this style to be very fitting for a movie about JFK because of how much of a national tragedy the assassination was. The one thing people always talk about is "where were you when Kennedy was killed?" This question warrants different responses from everyone, very similar to how this scene (and others in the movie) relates to different characters' viewpoints. I'm sure this wasn't the intent in choosing this style of filming, but I found it to be interesting nonetheless.
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Taylor Pope (August 2009)
In this paragraph, Feeney tries to assert that it is not that big of a deal that Stone made up the Ferrie confession. He quotes critic Roger Ebert as saying, “fact belongs in print. Films are about emotion.” Understandable that people believe that facts belong in print and what not; however, when you present something as fact to the audience, they are going to take it as fact. Feeney asks, “Whats the big deal?” The big deal is that Stone shows a confession to a conspiracy with little or no evidence to support that this event actually occurred. Feeney says that Stone has said that through the film and the actual investigation that all these ties and connections could be verified. So he decided to fabricate a confession to be more viewer friendly. It is just absurd that he justifies this scene because some of these loose connections could be verified. When Stone was researching this film, he talked to Lou Ivon who made the claim that Ferrie had admitted to knowing Lee Harvey Oswald. It is kind of weird to think that Jim Garrison never brought this up once during the Shaw trial, and it also weird that this claim came out in the early nineties. Jim Garrison was quoted after Ferrie’s death as saying “Not one of the conspirators has confessed his guilt”
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Lynsey Hervey (August 2009)
I have not been one to criticize Stone or his style of cinematography, but I think Brendan Feeney has it all wrong with his allegiance to Stone concerning the David Ferrie scene. About the fact that the scene never actually occurred in real life, Feeney says, “While this does provide viewers whose knowledge of the facts is limited with a false sense of history, the scene should not be discredited simply because Stone made it up.” Really? I think this scene should definitely be discredited for that exact reason! Stone does have every right as a filmmaker to make the film as he wanted, but this scene is too powerful, allowing the audience to believe that it came “this easy” and is completely true. Despite the fact that the ties Ferrie rattles on about can be verified, according to Garrison and Stone, the way in which it was shown completely misleads the audience. A movie that is trying to get the truth out should not be making the audience believe untruthful things! Feeney clearly does not see the big deal with this or hazard in it.
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Aaron Gray (August 2009)
An informative critique, but I have to agree and disagree with the writer in sections of the passage. First, the analysis of the scene. I do not believe the purposes of the scene are to (1) relay facts and (2) depict emotion. While the actors certainly do a great job of making the event seem “real” and have stimulated many viewers to question the validity of the scene, it does not relay facts primarily because the entire scene is a complete fabrication as it manipulates the actual facts and mixes in an opinionated continuation of those facts. While Oliver Stone has certainly done his homework thoroughly and makes the story flow well and seem believable, a simple investigation of the facts reveals that his story is merely his viewpoints that manipulate the audience into believing them as fact. Is this ethical? If not, would the movie be more ethical had he notified the audience beforehand about these subjective inclusions? For me, Stone’s opinions and medium of communication is no different from modern journalism and completely appropriate in a technological world such as the one we live in today. With the introduction of the Internet a couple decades ago and the popularizing of online journalism, which primarily consists of blogging and citizen journalism, it is getting progressively more difficult to distinguish between fact and fiction as the power to share and publish information has extended to all individuals that have access to the Internet and the means to communicate his/her thoughts. How is the publishing of the Mumbai attacks via Twitter any different than Stone’s movie? It was a manipulation of fact that lead people to believe something different than what actually occurred. I agree that Stone’s movie was “an example of manipulating the 'real' to produce a more entertaining and viewer-friendly version of the 'reel.'” However, this is justifiably done in a world full of manipulation and deceit. Stone has every right to offer his viewpoint, and it should not be condemned simply because it is a manipulation of fact in attempt to reveal the truth. The simple act of the government not releasing the facts spurred such controversy, and critics can begin by investigating the reasons for this before yelling at Stone.
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Jack Golden (August 2009)
While Stone probably had the best intentions when creating the David Ferrie scene, there is a problem with the fact that it never happened. Because Ferrie was such an important piece to the plot -- connecting the Cubans with Shaw, and Oswald, and Jack Ruby, and the CIA -- his actual testimony is needed in order to make these connections stick and move past simple speculation -- and they may all have known one another. Brendan is correct when he says that "The scene is key to the overall plot of the film. It is brilliantly acted and beautifully photographed." However, I disagree when Brendan says "the scene should not be discredited simply because Stone made it up. What he is doing is rearranging the facts to fit his version of what happened. And, as the filmmaker, he has every right to do so." Yes, Stone does have a right to rearrange facts as a filmmaker, but he shouldn't be surprised when historians critique the validity of his film when major scenes such as this one are invented for the sake of a film.
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Rachel Dorrell (August 2009)
Feeney mentions that "using distracting camera techniques" in the David Ferrie scene could detract from the audiences' understanding of the plot's development. I found the camera techniques used in the scene somewhat distracting and somewhat telling of the entertainment aspect of the movie. I appreciate the camera techniques in that sense; I did feel an enhanced sense of bewilderment and could better understand Ferrie's panic, but I wonder whether the use of the techniques is a viable "excuse" for Stone. If Stone really were using JFK as a purely factual film, he would not have used the film techniques that he used. This scene is one of the best in the entire movie, and I think the camera's movement adds to the entertainment and detracts from the reality. "Real" interrogation tapes are usually from mounted cameras, capturing one specific spectrum. The David Ferrie confession scene was obviously constructed for entertainment purposes, and Stone made that pretty obvious, so perhaps people should be less surprised when they find out that the scene is not factual.
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David Primak (August 2009)
Feeney concludes that Stone's manipulation of fact is justified to serve his goal as an artist in the Ferrie confession. Manipulation of fact is a slippery slope. How far is too far? Stone violates a certain principle in this scene because he does not only manipulate but introduces fallacies. While his articles dispute very well the claims of his critics, this scene is based on almost no fact at all. The conspiracy in the film is held together by David Ferrie. He is the connection between Clay, Oswald, Ruby, the Cubans, and government organizations. This scene is pivotal to the movie for several reasons. First, it has one of the major players in the conspiracy crack under the pressure. We see Clay interrogated, and he does not break a sweat. He calmly shoots down the questions that Garrison directs at him, and although he sounds like he is lying, he is unfazed. Ferrie's breakdown gives the viewer the same hope that Garrison and his team are feeling at that moment -- that they are getting close to the answers. This scene is undoubtedly a cinematic masterpiece in the level of drama it holds and the superb camera work. However, the gross presentation of lies can not be overlooked. Let alone the confession never happening. Ferrie confesses things that have been proven to be false and that Stone does not even refute in his articles fighting critics. While there are other controversial scenes in the film, such as the meeting with Mr. X, this alone drops the film into a propaganda category for me.
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Kaitlyn Landers (August 2009)
Of course it is justifiable to criticize Stone for adding a fictional encounter between Garrison and Ferrie. I also would definitely have to agree with Parimal that "It is hypocritical of Stone to depict a manipulated order of history when he is criticizing the government of manipulating evidence to confirm the lone-gunman theory." However, for the purpose of this film, it makes complete sense for this scene to be added. As Feeney points out, the scene is conducted in so perfect a way because Stone wanted to illustrate a picture that really did tie all the various pieces together. For the majority of the movie, we have Garrison and his men running around trying to find portions of segments of facts and fallacies, but nothing really all that concrete to make all the conspiracies plausible. I know for me personally, I found myself relatively confused most of the time trying to remember what had happened in previous scenes and how this person was connected with that person, etc. Ferrie was that link; in this short scene he made it all seem realistic in a way that was easily understood by the audience. Without this scene, I think the film would just appear as a slew of ideas strung together and completely discredit most of the theories that Stone was trying to solidify into fact. Although this event never occurred, by having someone who was the "missing link" form the Warren Commission, Stone was able to put all his puzzle pieces together. I think using any other medium would have made the connections too confusing for the audience.
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Ebert, Roger. “JFK.” Chicago Sun-Times 29 April 2002. http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20020429/REVIEWS08/204290301/1023

Garrison, Jim. On the Trail of the Assassins. New York: Warner Books, 1988.

United States. Warren Commission. Report of the Warren Commission on the Assassination of President Kennedy. New York, McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1964.