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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Michael Hafter