Night Fall

“I know that. I wasn’t on the case, but I read the Post.”

He forced a smile and continued, “Beyond that, you had the FBI being totally arrogant-pushing around the NTSB people and even the Navy and the Coast Guard, and the local police, and that led to a lot of bad feelings and bruised egos, and that led to a lot of whispered rumors about cover-up, missing evidence, bad investigation techniques, and you name it. Then the CIA got involved, and I don’t have to tell you how many red flags that raised. Basically, this case was a round-robin fucking contest at every level. Add to that the victims’ families and the news media, and you’ve got a situation that gets people hurt and angry. Bottom line, though, everyone got their shit together, and the investigation reached the right conclusion.” He said, “It was an accident.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“Then why is the case still too hot to even talk about five years later?”

“I just told you-everyone’s pissed at everyone else. Everyone is very defensive about the methods used to get to the conclusion. The only cover-up has to do with people covering their own asses and covering for a lot of mistakes.”

“So, in other words, no one had anything to hide-they just needed some time to get their stories straight.”

He smiled and replied, “Yeah, something like that.”

I asked, “Why were there so many CIA people on the case?”

He shrugged. “I guess because at first it looked like an attack from a foreign enemy. That’s the CIA’s job. Right?”

“Right. Why’d they make that stupid film?”

“I don’t know. I never understood that. Don’t read too much into that.”

“Okay. The problem, as I see it, aside from all the aforementioned government turf battles and screw-ups, is the eyewitnesses. I mean, without the eyewitnesses, everything that was reconstructed in the Calverton hangar and tested in the labs would be the final word on how that aircraft exploded and crashed. Right?”

Dick played with his spoon awhile, then said, “Right.”

“You interviewed witnesses. Right?”

“Right.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“How many saw the streak of light?”

“Six.”

“And you concluded… what?”

He looked at me and said, “I concluded that all six believed they saw something rise into the sky-a streak of light-and that this streak of light was traveling toward the vicinity of the aircraft, which subsequently exploded.”

“How does that fit into the accidental explosion of the center fuel tank?”

He replied, “Look, John, I’ve been through this a dozen times with the FBI and CIA guys, and a hundred times in my mind, and…” He smiled. “… about ten times with my wife. What do you want me to tell you? That the accidental explosion is bullshit? I’m not going to say that. I really think the evidence is there for the short circuit that touched off the fuel vapors.”

“Right. But if you back it up, what caused the short circuit?”

“A frayed wire.”

“Or maybe a kinetic missile passing through the air-conditioning units.”

“I won’t even go there.”

“Okay, then go back to your witnesses. What did they see?”

“I don’t know, and neither do they. But I think, based on a hundred years of detective work, that they sawsomething. Some light phenomenon in the sky. What was it? Damned if I know. Could have been a shooting star, or some kind of fireworks that some idiot fired from a boat. And what happened next is just a coincidence. They could have seen, as the CIA film said, burning fuel or the burning aircraft itself.”

I said to him, “Most, if not all, of the witnesses agreed on one thing-the CIA animation didn’t look like what they saw.”

“I see you’ve done some work since yesterday.” He leaned toward me and said, “Look, I think my interview techniques are very good… though the fucking CIA and fucking FBI put out some shit about bad interviewing techniques as the reason for these witnesses describing that streak of light. And they weren’t talking about themselves. So, it was like the NYPD’s fault that two hundred witnesses saw the same thing. Can you believe that shit?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Anyway, I got all I could out of those witnesses the first time around. By the second time around, they’d all been reading the papers and watching the news, so their stories went from, ‘Gee, it happened so fast, and I couldn’t be sure what I was seeing’ to, ‘Hey, I told you it was a guided missile’ followed by detailed descriptions of a reddish orange streak of fire and a white smoke plume, and zigging and zagging, and everything but the color of the fucking missile before it hit the aircraft.” He looked at me. “We’ve been there, John. We’ve done that. How many eyewitnesses have we had on the stand who totally forgot everything, or better yet, remembered all kinds of shit that never happened?”

“Point made.” But that made me think of something else. Too often we look at what’s in front of us and examine it to death. But sometimes, it’s what’s missing that can tell you something, like that dog that didn’t bark in the night. I said to Dick, “I always wondered why some kind of judicial inquest wasn’t held. You know, like a Justice Department court of inquiry with subpoena powers where all the eyewitnesses, government investigators, and forensic experts could be made to give sworn testimony, and where a panel of impartial judges could ask questions in open court. Why wasn’t that done?”

He shrugged. “How the hell do I know? Ask Janet Reno.”

I didn’t reply.

He said, “There were a few public hearings. Lots of press conferences.”

“But nothing judicial or congressional.”

He smirked. “You mean, like the Warren Commission? Shit, I still don’t know who killed JFK.”

“My ex-wife did. She talks in her sleep.”

“Yeah. I know.”

We shared a half-assed chuckle.

Dick chain-lit another cigarette and remarked, “I had to go to L.A. on business. You can’t smoke in restaurants or bars out there. You believe that? I mean, what the fuck is this country coming to? Assholes make laws, and people obey them. We’re all becoming sheep. Next is an anti-farting law. You know, like, ‘This is a fart-free establishment. Farting causes serious nose and throat ailments.’ I can see this warning sign with a guy in a circle bending over and a slash going through him. What’s next?”

I let him go on awhile, then asked, “Were you ever called to testify at one of these public hearings?”

“No. But-”

“Was any other interviewer or any eyewitness ever called to testify at a public hearing?”

“No, but-”

“Did the CIA interview any witnesses when they were making that tape?”

“No… but they said they did. Then a lot of eyewitnesses called them out on that, and the CIA then admitted that they used only written statements given by the eyewitnesses to make that animation.”

“Does that bother you?”

“From a professional standpoint… look, a lot of mistakes were made, which is why people like you are still nosing around and causing problems. Here’s my conclusion, which I really believe-it was a fucking accident. And here’s my advice to you-drop it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not part of a cover-up or conspiracy, John. I ask you to drop it for two very good reasons. One, there was no crime, no conspiracy, no cover-up, and nothing for you to discover, except stupidity. Two, we’re old buds, and I don’t want to see you in trouble for no good reason. You want to get yourself into trouble? Do something worth the trouble. Kick Koenig in the balls.”

“I already did that this morning.”

Dick laughed, then looked at his watch again, and said, “Gotta go. Say hello to Kate.”

“Yeah. And hello to Mo.”

He started to slide out of the booth, and I said, “Oh, one more thing. Bayview Hotel. Beach blanket bimbo. Ring any bells?”

He looked at me and said, “I heard something. But I gotta tell you-there were more fucking rumors going around than even the press could handle. You probably heard the same rumor I did.”