“This is Clint Hill. I need to speak to Bob Foster, immediately.”
As I waited for Bob Foster, the lead agent on the children’s detail, to get on the phone, I nearly lost it.
The president’s words as he said good-bye to his almost three-year-old son played over and over in my mind.
John would be waiting for the helicopter. When he heard the helicopter, he’d run to the window, knowing his daddy was in the helicopter. But this time, his daddy was coming home in a casket.
Agent Foster and I decided that John and Caroline should be taken to Mrs. Kennedy’s mother’s home in Georgetown. They’d be safe there.
And John would be spared the sound of the helicopter.
I swallowed hard and walked back into the hallway.
I looked at Mrs. Kennedy, now sitting in the ordinary portable straight-backed chair that had been drug into the hallway. She looked so all alone. Paul was with her, there were people all around, and yet she was alone in her sorrow. Oh how I wished I could relieve her pain.
EMORY ROBERTS CAME to me and said, “Clint, we need to get Vice President Johnson to Air Force One and go back to Washington. We don’t know how big this situation is and we need to remove him from the area.”
“That makes sense,” I replied.
“He wants Mrs. Kennedy to come with him—tell her that.”
“I’m sure she will not leave the president. But I’ll ask.”
I walked over to her. She looked so fragile.
“Mrs. Kennedy, Vice President Johnson is going to go back to Washington and he would like you to go with him.”
She looked up at me. Her eyes told me before she said it.
“Tell the vice president I’m not going anywhere without the president.”
There was no mistaking the determination in her voice.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.”
I went back to Roberts with the answer to his question.
Soon the answer came back from Roberts. Vice President and Mrs. Johnson were going to Love Field and would board Air Force One, but would not leave until Mrs. Kennedy went with them.
The casket arrived and I signed the receipt. We were wheeling it in and I could see Paul, Ken O’Donnell, and Dave Powers trying to shield Mrs. Kennedy from seeing it. The sight of the casket made everything so final. I could see the anguish on her face, I could feel it in my heart, and there was nothing I could do.
WE STILL HAD no idea who was behind the assassination. Was it one person? A conspiracy? Were they after the vice president or others?
What we did know was the sooner we got out of Dallas, onto Air Force One, and back to the White House, the better. But Vice President Johnson wouldn’t leave on the presidential plane without Mrs. Kennedy, and Mrs. Kennedy wasn’t leaving without the body of the president.
And now there was another problem. The Dallas County medical examiner had arrived and informed us that we could not remove the president’s body from the hospital until an autopsy had been performed. Texas state law required that, in the case of a homicide, the victim’s body could not be released until an autopsy was performed in the jurisdiction in which the homicide was committed.
It could be hours or perhaps a day or more before the procedure would be complete. This was completely unacceptable.
Roy Kellerman, Ken O’Donnell, and Dave Powers tried to convince the authorities that since this involved the President of the United States, we should be able to take his body back to the nation’s capital for an autopsy.
The Texas authorities said no.
The discussion continued and became somewhat heated. Very heated. This was all happening in a very small area—a hallway, really. Paul Landis and I looked at each other. We knew what was going to happen. Texas law or not, we were taking the president’s body back to Washington.
Inside the trauma room, the president’s body was being placed in the casket. The hearse from Oneal Funeral Home was waiting at the emergency room entrance. Andy Berger, one of the agents from the President’s Detail, was sitting in the driver’s seat. Paul stayed close to Mrs. Kennedy as I made sure the corridor between Trauma Room No. 1 and the hearse was secure.
Finally, the Texas authorities conceded—with one stipulation. We could take the president’s body and return to Washington, as long as there was a medical professional that stayed with the body and would return to Dallas to testify.
“We have the right man for the job,” I said. “Admiral George Burkley, the president’s physician.” The discussion was over.
Mrs. Kennedy walked silently with us, as we wheeled the casket down the hall. She watched as we strained to lift the casket, with her husband’s body inside, into the back of the hearse, and then as Admiral Burkley got in there with it.
I turned to Mrs. Kennedy and gently touched her arm. “We can ride in this car right behind the hearse, Mrs. Kennedy.”
She looked at me, her eyes pooled with pain. “No, Mr. Hill, I’m riding with the president.”
So I opened the door of the hearse and Mrs. Kennedy climbed in. I climbed in right behind her, and we scrunched together, sitting on our knees, still in our bloodstained clothes. There we were, in the back of the hearse—a casket containing the President of the United States, Admiral Burkley, Mrs. Kennedy, and me.
LOVE FIELD HAD been completely sealed off from the public. Agent Andy Berger drove the hearse to the rear steps of Air Force One, and I helped Mrs. Kennedy out. Paul Landis had ridden in the car behind us, and rushed to Mrs. Kennedy’s side.
The crew of Air Force One had removed some seats in the rear of the aircraft to make room for the casket. Now we had to get the casket up the steps into the back of the plane.
Paul stayed with Mrs. Kennedy, while I helped my fellow agents lift the casket out of the hearse. Silently, and with as much dignity as possible, we heaved the heavy bronze casket up the narrow steps of the portable staircase. Everybody was emotionally shattered. You couldn’t stop to think about what it was you were actually doing. Step by step, we finally made it to the top, only to discover that the casket was too wide to go through the door.
We had to get it in. There was no choice. We had to get the casket onto Air Force One. So we broke off the handles, and jammed the casket through the door, as Mrs. Kennedy watched from the bottom of the steps.
Once the casket was in place, Mrs. Kennedy walked up the stairs and sat in the seat next to the casket. She was joined by O’Donnell, Powers, and Admiral Burkley. For all intents and purposes, Lyndon Johnson was now the president, so the agents on the 4:00–midnight shift were guarding him, guarding the new president. I was concerned about how that might make Mrs. Kennedy feel. Also, having witnessed the tense scene at Parkland Hospital regarding removal of the body, I thought it best that an agent stay with the casket to verify that Admiral Burkley had remained with the casket as well.
I needed to confer with ASAIC Kellerman about plans for our arrival, so I went to Agent Stewart Stout, the shift leader, and said, “Stew, I think, out of respect for President Kennedy, an agent should stay with the casket.” He agreed and Agent Dick Johnsen went back to sit with Mrs. Kennedy and the others.
Everyone was eager to get wheels up and get out of Dallas, but now we had another problem. We learned that Vice President Johnson needed to be sworn in while still on the ground in Dallas. That required a federal judge. Calls were made, and federal judge Sarah Hughes arrived and boarded Air Force One.
Before the swearing-in ceremony began, I was notified that Mrs. Kennedy wanted to see me, in the presidential cabin. I walked through the aircraft, past Vice President Johnson and his staff, and into the
