Chapter 3: The System

As examined by Richard Sprague in the The Taking of America 1-2-3, trained operatives have at their disposal a range of secret assassination techniques including some which today’s public would find hard to believe, even though their origins predate the Cold War. And as we remember from the Guatemala coup, the very secrecy to such methods facilitates narrative control. 

In the book Sprague covers a list of 100 witnesses, investigators, or co-conspirators to the Kennedy and King assassinations whose conveniently timed deaths reflect the success these methods have in avoiding public scrutiny. An example is the fatal car accident of African American reporter, Louis Lomax, the first known journalist to aggressively pursue leads of a conspiracy in King’s death (sidebar A). Another example is W. Preston Battle, the judge who died from a heart attack just as he was preparing to grant James Earl Ray his constitutional right to a trial (sidebar B). In an interview with Mrs. Battle, she told Gary he was headed to his office to get the paper work for Ray’s trial ready when she last saw him alive, and the paper work itself which she knew had his signature on it mysteriously disappeared. 

Besides his love for the Constitution, Judge Battle was also motivated by his knowledge of testimony from Willie Green, the gas station attendant who was with Ray while patching his tire at the precise time of King’s shooting. Green also was subsequently killed under alarming circumstances (sidebar C). In visiting with Mrs. Battle, and in visiting the old gas station where Green worked and was killed, Gary was receiving constant reminders of his own mortality at 27 years old. However, the thought of harm to his wife and children is what made his decision to suspend the investigation an easy one.

Even so, Gary did not find himself getting to sleep any better at night. He would toss and turn over his pillow knowing that the Reverend King also had a wife and children, with fears to overcome of what could befall them given the enemy he was up against. It was during this restless period that Gary would make the acquaintance of someone who would turn out to be an extraordinary source of information, although the investigation was on hiatus at the time. 

Witness Three: ‘Cousin Billy’

At first, that source inserted himself onto Gary’s path one day taking the form of a bearded hobo. Sporting a large round top hat and pair of aviator sunglasses to further conceal his features, he introduced himself to Gary as “Cousin Billy,” and with the blunt impact of a simple question, “Do you want to stay alive?”

Something about this stranger’s authoritative manner was compelling enough. That night, Gary obeyed his gut and followed Billy’s directions into the recesses of an abandoned hospital building located along Nashville’s perimeter. Any doubt of this being the right move began to lift once the two men were reconvened there in a spiderweb-draped research lab, where, under the dim lighting of a kerosene lamp, Billy plopped a manila envelope onto a dusty table for Gary to open.

The cache of files which emerged—each marked with the FBI’s top secret rubber stamper, and not a single redaction to show for—all related to “Zorro.” This, the stranger explained, was the codename used by the FBI-CIA-Mafia operatives for their joint plot to silence MLK and his criticism of the Vietnam War by any means necessary. The documents included details that would both confirm and fill in the picture around King’s assassination that was on its way to crystallizing for Gary before he quit investigating. Billy was then forthright to state that he hoped Gary would choose to resume the investigation. Because if he did, it was proposed, the two of them could piece together the unique information each possessed, making an unstoppable team in bringing the matter to public light. Perhaps even justice might be within reach at that juncture.

While Gary was obviously not ready to promise anything, much less to someone anonymous, he was beginning to feel that pull of investigative mode. One of the files he had his thumb locked onto revealed phone transcripts of Carlos Marcello making incriminating comments to other mafia figureheads about wanting the Kennedy brothers whacked, which brought to mind a question that had been gnawing at Gary for some time. “I get why the mafia wanted the Kennedys dead with the Bay of Pigs and all,” he pondered aloud, “but why MLK—what did the mafia gain from killing a civil rights leader?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the hobo replied that the Vietnam War was huge business for more than just the obvious military industrial complex stakeholders. He explained that billions of dollars in heroin were being trafficked from Saigon by the Italian Mafia in partnership with CIA elements, and how U.S. warships in the area were part of the trafficking pipeline. Thus, when a proven social reformer like King came along preaching peace in Southeast Asia, making it his sole priority to lead a grassroots movement to end the war, the Cold War criminal cabal grew nervous. 

Of course, such an entanglement between the national security apparatus and organized crime was in itself nothing new. By this time Gary had a general knowledge of “the system”—an informal alliance between the FBI, CIA, and mafia (sidebar D) which spawned its existence through mutual wartime interests, made more cohesive by the blackmail their leaders kept on one another. And given the family trauma involving the brick and shattered window on that night of interviewing John McFerren, Gary needed no reminder of the hybrid monster he would be up against if the investigation resumed.

At the same time, it is relevant to point out that Gary was deeply rooted in his biblical faith and worldview. When he first deliberated about taking the job as investigator, he did so with the invigorating support of his mentor—an African American preacher with a pentecostal background who flat out told Gary he believed God ordained this path to uncover the truth about King’s murder. Gary believed it to be so, and even as he parted ways with Cousin Billy that evening after their brief introduction, he had to wonder if that divine nudge wasn’t at it again, summoning his return to a deeply-rooted information war. 

Indeed, if part of him debated whether he had just encountered an angel, the rationale might not be so absurd. For besides entrusting the files into Gary’s care, they came at the last minute with some much needed advice on how their content could be leveraged as “life insurance” against Carlos Marcello (and by extension, against the interlocked powers-that-be). Contrary to wishful thinking, quitting this investigation didn’t make Gary any less of a target. Marcello had already placed a hit on the “resigned” investigator for knowing too much. And while the mysterious hobo relaying these matters seemed to have full knowledge, time would certainly tell that he was no angel.

The Psy Op

Gary’s subsequent return to the investigation was a decision made once again with encouragement from his pastor, who kindly networked to find a safe heaven for Linda and the kids to stay for the duration of the job. Linda was supportive as well, and on a better note still, James Earl Ray—who Gary had come to know affectionately as “Jimmy”—and attorney Jack Kershaw were glad to welcome back their investigator as the sorely missed member of the legal team. 

Their first move was to set up a meeting with Richard Sprague, chief counsel of the House Select Committee on Assassinations (HSCA), with whom plans were established for Gary to relay his findings to the committee at the appropriate time. Also in attendance with Sprague was Mark Lane, well-reputed for his research on the Kennedy-King assassinations and of Vietnam War crimes. Lane had been a colleague to the Orleans parish district attorney Jim Garrison (portrayed by Kevin Costner in Oliver Stone’s JFK), who went the length of actually prosecuting CIA agents for conspiracy to assassinate the president.

Like Garrison, Sprague had a certain tenacity about him in going after highest-level corruption. In vetting the HSCA’s 12 committee members, he was diligent to make sure none of them had compromising ties to the FBI or CIA. Indeed, his heart was set on justice, and the idea of collaborating with him warranted a realistic optimism for Ray’s team knowing the Goliath they were up against. Sadly however, this long-term plan of joining forces with Sprague never came to fruition. 

That spring of 1977, a story broke about infighting within the HSCA. Making its rounds through the echo chamber of leading news outlets, the bottom line remained the same, portraying the committee as a dysfunctional waste of tax payer dollars under Sprague’s leadership. Given no other choice he was forced to step down for replacement as chief counsel lest the plug be pulled on the committee entirely. Although the affair transpired quickly, it wasn’t as though Sprague was clueless about what had just hit him.

According to Sprague’s side of the story, which naturally did not receive media coverage, his ouster as chief counsel was an orchestrated result by the Central Intelligence Agency. All was set in motion by his request for the release of the agency’s files pertaining to a 1963 Mexico City meeting, which he believed would shed light on the planning of President Kennedy’s assassination. The request  for these files was submitted to George Joannides, the CIA’s liaison to the committee.

Of all individuals the agency could have placed in this position, Joannides was a most curious choice. In 1963 he was chief of the psychological warfare branch at JMWAVE, the CIA’s Miami station, where he was helping develop a militant anti-Castro group of Cuban exiles (the DRE) known for their contact with Lee Harvey Oswald in August of 1963—when plans to scapegoat him for the president’s assassination were in full swing. It therefore comes as no surprise that as liaison to the committee, Joannides seemed to serve as a blockade, shielding the conspirators from any investigation.

Only with enough persistence from Sprague did Joannides finally agree to release the files, but on one condition—that the committee members sign an NDA. Punishable by prison time and hefty fines, the agreement would have prohibited any of the members from ever sharing what they learned from the files with any person or agency outside of the committee. In response to which Sprague balked, “How can I possibly sign an agreement with an agency I’m supposed to be investigating?”

Correctly taking this to mean that they were being investigated, the CIA proceeded to hatch their scheme of removing Sprague. A multi-layered psychological operation—not unlike the kind used in staging a coup—the specifics are laid bear in The Taking of America 1-2-3. In thumbnail version, the agency’s first step was to position their assets from congress around key members of the committee, feeding each with misinformation about who among the other committee members were actually CIA plants, there to derail the investigation all along. Once this house-of-mirrors twist on “divide and conquer” reached full effect, causing broken trust and communication between members, the tension erupted, and, just as planned, the Mockingbird operatives assigned to this committee worked their magic from there, producing the news which forced Sprague’s resignation.

These journalist-operatives are named in the book as George Lardner of the Washington Post, Mr. Burnham of The New York Times, and Jeremiah O’ Leary of the Washington Star. “In all HSCA committee meetings and in Rules Committee and Finance Committee meetings,” Sprague claims, “these three reporters sat next to each other, passed notes back and forth, and wrote articles continually attacking and undermining both Sprague and [Rep. Henry Gonzalez], as well as the entire committee.” 

[FOOTNOTE: Sprague’s claim finds support in Bernstein’s The CIA and the Media. Published later that year in October 1977, a CIA source is cited as openly admitting that O’ Leary had been one of the agency’s favored operatives, valued even more for his propaganda output than intelligence-gathering.]

Just the same, were the effects all this had on Gary’s morale and investigation. Observing first-hand this degree of power the conspirators had to subvert the checks and balances of democracy was disheartening, to say the least, and of practical importance, the resulting absence of Sprague’s trusted leadership meant that the HSCA was no longer going to be a viable avenue for due process of his findings. 

Still, the darkest bend of the journey was just ahead. 

It was August of 1977 that friends and family gathered at a cemetery in Jacksonville, Florida to bid Cecil Fillingame —Gary’s cherished nineteen year old half-brother—farewell. Cecil had a winsome personality and no lack of potential or hopes for his future. The circumstantial evidence around his gruesome death at the family’s Florida home indicated foul play from Marcello’s hitmen (Sidebar E). Whether they killed his brother as punishment for returning to the investigation, or as a way to break down him down psychologically, Gary had about reached his limit. 

The time to conclude the investigation was near anyway. Having on the one hand a comprehensive picture of King’s assassination (to be expounded upon shortly) but a corrupt judicial system on the other hand, the road before him in terms of justice promised to be foggy at best, leaving no choice but to wrap things up. Miraculously though, it was an afternoon that late October when a surprising phone call came, making the fog suddenly dissipate.

It was the familiar gruff voice of Cousin Billy, suggesting they meet at a hole-in-the-wall pub along Nashville’s Music Row. This time, the mysterious helper would not be showing up as a bum. Clean-shaven in his regular dark suit and tie, he arrived as none other than William C. Sullivan—the Hoover FBI’s retired chief of domestic intelligence. Throughout the 1960s, he led at the helm of COINTELPRO, the Bureau’s infamous spying and propaganda arm known as the “department of dirty tricks.” 

“What I did to King,” Sullivan confessed to Gary in their opening moments of having a beer, “is something I’ve had to live with.” Over that next hour of what would become their final conversation, the former intel chief proceeded to unpack these ominous words, admitting to the role he had in Zorro—and other operations of a soul-marring nature.