Now It Can Be Told 

They're opening up the archives. At last. At last! And it's all there just as we thought. All those secrets they've been keeping from us.

Now for the headlines...

KENNEDY PLOT OUT!

And the two-hour television special...

"This is Connie Chung live from CIA headquarters in Langley."

The interview with Jackie...

"Yes, I knew about it all along. Jack's very last words were, 'Did you see him? On the grassy knoll?'"

The new discoveries...

OSWALD GRAVE EMPTY!

The secret White House tapes...

"Mr. Vice President. You say you want this done in Dallas."

"Right in Dallas, son. I want that sonofabitch shot square through the head, you heah?"

At last. 700,000 suppressed documents. Miles and miles of tapes. Even film. The bastards had film!

Turn on the projector. Will you look at the quality of this stuff? Four guys on the grassy knoll setting up with rifles. Look how clear their faces are, they exactly match those mug shots we're going to see in a minute. Two Mafia dons, one CIA chief, and J. Edgar himself. They're even wearing name tags. A guy with a microphone steps forward. They're giving out interviews! "We want to straighten this out for history. We're the guys, the real assassins. We want to make sure we get credit."

The camera pulls back and we have a terrific view when the motorcade pulls into view. You think those Zapruder films were something? Wait till you see these! With every shot, and there are enough to account for every damn wound, the triggerman stands up and takes a bow. "My name is Izzy Fernster. I fired that shot." "My name is Angelo Griphard. I fired that shot." J. Edgar opens his wallet and counts out one million dollars for each. "Take it boys, and here's your receipts."

The receipts, by the way, were suppressed by the Warren Commission too. Now they're published on the cover of Time.

It all comes out. The whole damn cover-up. Typed and signed confessions by every member of the Warren Commission, except for Jerry Ford. You can't blame them for cutting him out. You can't keep a secret unless you take some precautions.

Jack Ruby. Would you believe it, still alive! They got him on an island in the Caribbean and the guy looks pretty good, all things considered. CNN flies a crew down and gets an exclusive.

"I was paid one million dollars. Here. Let me show you the receipt."

Jack holds it up.

Paid. One million dollars, for services rendered.

Signed, the United States Government.

It'll take years to go through all this evidence, to read all these documents. It's three full days before the networks tire of the story.

It's not long before the writer shows up at his publisher with a manuscript under his arm. He hasn't even bothered to tear the sheets apart. It's absolutely amazing how fast you can grind out a book in this computer age.

The line moves along at a pretty good clip and he makes it into his editor's office shortly before noon. "Well, here it is." He drops his manuscript on the desk. "You can have it in the bookstores by Saturday. And this time we're cutting my agent out."

"He's already been here," the editor says. "We turned him down too."

"Too?"

The editor picks up the manuscript, flips a few pages, and drops it into the wastebasket, along with a few dozen others.

"You guys are just too slow," he says. "We just came out with it this morning. What do you think?"

He holds up a nice-looking book, hardbound, colorful dust jacket. Too bad. They even beat him to the title: COVER-UP TWO! The Real Story of the Kennedy Assassination.

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