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When They Kill a President, by Roger Craig PART 5

During this period I had managed to gather enough money to buy a
1962 Ford from a friend. It was not the best car in the world but
it was only a hundred and fifty dollars and it did run. I paid
$50.00 down and was to pay him the rest in a month or so. I also
rented a small apartment and it seemed good to once again be by
ourselves in our own home. But our new found *Wealth* was short
Shortly after this, a self-professed private detective in
Dallas, by the name of Al Chapman, had written a story about new
evidence in the assassination which he had sold to the "National
Enquirer." In this article he quoted me as saying that I had given
certain information to him and had personally identified a picture
of a man and car saying it was Lee Harvey Oswald and his
The entire story, with reference to me, was completely false. I
had never been interviewed by this man and had at no time seen the
picture to which he referred. Al Chapman, prior to the
assassination, was a custodian for a church in Oak Cliff. There is
a good deal of mystery about him for he will not reveal his
business or residential address. Nor is the name of the church
available. Although he is a part-time private investigator, he has
no license.
The story was all over the office and Jim was concerned as he
had been keeping up on anything written involving these events.
Before long the F.B.I. and the Dallas Police were making regular
visits to the office on the pretext of looking for "Jim Jones" or
"Tom Smith" or any excuse they could use to let me know they could
also read! The heat was on. Jim was constantly there--everytime I
looked up--which was unusual. This leech, this skid row bum, and I
*am* referring to Al Chapman, in his lust for money, not caring
whom he hurt, had not only sold his story but my future with
Peakload as well.
On July 17, 1970, I reported for work to find another man doing
my job. I was told by this "replacement" that Jim wanted to see
me. As I sat in Jim's office I knew what was coming. Jim said,
"Roger, you've done a good job but it is time for a change." I
asked him for an explanation but all he would say was that it was
time for a change and he was sorry!
Bill Decker died in August. The County Commissioners appointed
his executive assistant, Clarence Jones, to fill the job until
November, when he had to run for election (with the backing of the
Democratic Party). For the first time since Decker's reign, the
Republicans nominated someone to oppose a Democrat for the office.
The man was Jack Revel, former Chief of the Dallas Police
Intelligence Division. This meant that the voters had the choice
between two evils. Well, Clarence Jones was elected--his campaign
signs and posters read, "Elect Clarence Jones - In the Tradition of
Bill Decker"! It would be nice if Jack Revel would be upset enough
over his loss of the election to make public some information--but
this is very wishful thinking indeed.
Meanwhile, I am still out of a job (but still looking). I would
like to think that the people of Dallas will change and rise up
against the dishonest and irresponsible tyrants who govern in their
name--but I do not see it happening in the near future. Dallas is
my home but I will always feel like an outsider because I simply
will not adjust to the idea that for Dallas, for Texas, for America
this must serve as DEMOCRACY.

A Few Odd and Interesting Facts

Allen Sweatt, Decker's Chief criminal investigator, let me know
that he was aware of my friendship with Hiram Ingram and that he
did not like it one bit.
Before I departed the Sheriff's Office for good Allen Sweatt and
I talked a couple of times and he revealed to me that he knew Lee
Harvey Oswald. He also told me that Oswald worked for the F.B.I.
as an informer, that he was paid $200.00 a month and his code
number was S 172.


When Penn Jones wanted the records of Robert Perrin, the ex-
husband of Nancy Perrin Rich, I had to find a new source of
information. (I won't release this name for obvious reasons.) It
seems that Nancy Perrin was connected with Jack Ruby, Clay Shaw and
Lee Oswald at about the time of President Kennedy's death.
Robert Perrin was reported to have committed suicide in New
Orleans, La. The autopsy showed no visible scars, marks or tattoos
and Penn knew that Perrin had been arrested in Dallas and wanted me
to get the records of the arrest along with his description. After
some doing I finally obtained the record. It showed that Perrin
had several tattoos and part of his right index finger was missing.
None of this information showed up on the autopsy report. It would
be interesting to know who WAS buried in Robert Perrin's place and
where Robert Perrin is now, wouldn't it?


The favorite pastime in Dallas
Is a game they call murder with malice.
They don't ask your leave.
But not to deceive. . . .
To tell you would be - well, too callous.


On Wednesday, October 27, 1970 I went to downtown Dallas to Jack
Revel's campaign headquarters to pick up some campaign signs. The
headquarters were not open and I decided to visit a friend who
works at a restaurant across the street. While talking with my
friend the conversation turned, as it so often does, to the
assassination. He and I had discussed this in the past.
During the course of our conversation a man who I had not met
before entered into the conversation. He, of course, did not know
me (not to my knowledge). I told him that I was from out of town
and that I was interested in facts that hadn't been printed and in
persons that had known Jack Ruby and Lee Oswald. This man said, "I
knew Oswald and Ruby. I can tell you anything you want to know
about them."
At this point I became very interested and I told him again that
I'd sure like to know first hand what they were like. He said, "I
knew Ruby well--I had seen Oswald a couple of times in Ruby's
place." I then said, "Well, in Ruby's business--the night club--I
imagine a lot of people were seen there." He sort of chuckled and
said "Huh--Jack Ruby's business was spelled Mafia." He then said,
"I can show you a used car lot where Ruby collected a lot of
gambling money over on Ross Avenue" (it was the 4600 block of Ross
Avenue). So I offered to drive him over there and he said, "No--do
you have your car here?" I did. He said I should follow him,
which I did. I parked my car on the same side of the street as the
car lot, a short distance down and walked back to his car. I
opened the door of his car on the passenger side and he pointed to
the car lot and said, "That's where a lot of the money comes in
from the gambling operation and Jack picked it up here."
He said, "If you really want to know what's going on in Dallas
you have to talk to someone who's been around--and I've been around
in those circles." Then he said, "Just leave your car parked there
and come with me--I'll show you something that's REALLY
interesting." He drove me to 300 1/2 South Ewing in the Oak Cliff
area to an apartment that had been a family dwelling and was
converted into apartment units. I should mention here that Jack
Ruby's address at the time of the assassination was 323 South
The apartment at 300 1/2 South Ewing is upstairs and when we
walked into the apartment there was a distinct feeling of an
unlived-in atmosphere. The furnishings were bare. There was a
couch, chair and coffee table--no lamps, no ash trays, nothing on
the walls. The man had been smoking so it was odd that there were
no ash trays. He said, "How about a cup of coffee?" We went into
the kitchen, he opened the cabinet and said, "Oh well, I guess I'm
out of coffee." He was also out of everything else as there was
nothing in the cabinet.
The arrangement of the apartment was unusual as you had to go
through the bedroom to the kitchen, which was very small. The
closet door was open in the bedroom. However, there were no
clothes in it. At that time I became slightly nervous about the
We went back into the bedroom from the kitchen. While in the
bedroom he said, "I want to show you something." He opened the top
drawer of the dresser and pulled out a shoulder holster--there was
a 32 revolver with a three inch barrel in the shoulder holster. He
pulled the 32 out of the holster and said, "what do you think about
that?" I remarked that you don't see many 32's with a barrel like
that. He put the 32 back in the drawer and went around to the side
of the closet which was not visible when you went into the kitchen.
At that time he produced two rifles--one was a bolt action which
looked like a 30.06, the other was a high power automatic which
appeared to be a 257 caliber.
I remarked that they were nice rifles and I would like to have a
good deer hunting rifle. He then laid those two on the bed and he
said, "You haven't seen anything yet." He then got down on the
floor and he pulled 5 more rifles from under the bed. Each of
these were equipped with scopes. He then pulled a cardboard box
about 13 inches long and 10 inches deep also from under the bed.
The box was closed and on the side was printed "Ammunition - Handle
With Care." He then slid the rifles and ammunition back under the
bed. I said jokingly, "What are you gonna do--start a war?" He
said, "Could be."
At that time he looked at his watch and said "excuse me just a
minute, I have to go down to the landlady's apartment and make a
phone call--I promised some people I would call them" (there was no
telephone in the apartment). He was gone for about ten minutes.
During this time I made a mental inventory of the apartment. After
he returned he asked me if I was ready to go back to my car. There
was a pay phone on the corner from the apartment and I asked him to
pull over so that I could call the people who owned the car (I had
told him that it was borrowed while I was in Dallas), that I wanted
to let them know that the car was okay. From the pay phone I
called my wife and gave her the man's name and address and told her
of the situation. His name--as he gave me is A.E. Allen, 300 1/2
South Ewing, Dallas, Texas.
Before we went to his apartment, or the apartment, I told him
being from out of town that I didn't know much, but that I had
heard that Ruby was in the gun running business. He said that Ruby
wasn't actually buying and selling weapons. That people in higher
positions made the arrangements for the buying and selling of
weapons. That Ruby was mainly the go-between for delivering the
money and making arrangements for the storage of the weapons until
they were shipped out.
During the course of the evening he made the statement several
times that, "if you want to stay healthy, don't say anything to
anybody in Dallas about the assassination unless you're damn sure
you know who you're talking to."
He then said that there were a lot of people in Dallas who were
out to "get" him because he knows too much. ?
One of the strangest things that he did was to drive on East
Jefferson to a used car lot and stop. There were two men inside
the office and he went in and talked to them. I stayed in the car
and could see them through a window of the office. He was in there
only a few minutes. His car was a light blue Oldsmobile 66 model.
When he came out of the office he got into a gray Olds sitting on
the lot and he drove it onto the drive stopping just before he
entered the street--he motioned to me--I was watching him. I got
out of the blue Olds and he took me back to my car in the gray
Olds. ?
On the way to my car across town, he kept repeating there's a
lot more to this (the assassination) than they'll ever know. In
taking me to my car he cut across to Ft. Worth Avenue. While
driving slowly along he pointed out certain private clubs--saying
that he wasn't allowed in one or the other. My first thought was
that he was trying to give me the impression that he was
knowledgeable about the workings of the Dallas underworld.
However, it really seems that he was using a delaying measure--
since it took from 10:00 p.m. until 11:15 p.m. to drive me to my
car--an ordinary 15 minute drive at that time.
When I got out of his car at mine he said, "I'll call you
tomorrow." Earlier in the evening he had implied he was going to
give me more information. I had given him a number to reach me by.
Needless to say I did not hear from him after the incident that
I had locked my car when I parked it. When I got into it I
turned the key over to start the engine. At this point there was a
muffled type explosion and then smoke came out the sides of the
hood. The hood had a double latch and didn't blow. Fire was
coming through the air vents under the dash and a pillow was
burning inside the car.
I jumped out of the car and raised the hood. The engine, hoses,
firewall and even under the bell housing was all ablaze. Several
persons came up and someone called the fire department. A man
named Bill Booken was walking by at about the time it happened.
The fire department used 2 cans of chemical to extinguish the fire.
This was one of the hottest fires I had ever seen. There was no
smell of gasoline before or after, there was no back fire as the
car had not started and afterwards the gas lines were checked and
there were no leaks. There was an air breather on the car and in
fact, there was no mechanical reason for the explosion.
This happened at 4625 Ross Avenue. Mr. Booken took me to
Anderson's Restaurant at 4909 Ross Avenue where I called my wife
and she arranged for my brother Duane to come after me. I didn't
know that I had been injured until I felt the warm blood running
down my shirt after my brother picked me up. I had lost quite a
lot of blood by the time I went to the emergency room. I was there
for three hours. A police report was made. I had received 5
puncture type wounds in the chest area. One vein had been severed
and had to be tied and stitches taken in the wounds. X-rays were
also made. I went to our family physician the following day and
had the stitches removed the following Monday. It was never
completely determined what hit me. Another close call! The doctor
at the emergency room said I was lucky the wounds had not been
lower and our family physician said I was lucky the wounds were not
in the neck. So . . . I suppose I'm just lucky all the way round!

daveus rattus

yer friendly neighborhood ratman


ko.yan.nis.qatsi (from the Hopi Language) n. 1. crazy life. 2. life
in turmoil. 3. life out of balance. 4. life disintegrating.
5. a state of life that calls for another way of living.

...PART 1
...PART 2

...PART 3
...PART 4
...PART 5





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