In an email telling us about this, Anderson writes, "Written in 1966, McDonald says in a typed cover letter that it is the first time he has ever actually handwritten the events of that day."
I'm responding to a Police Radio call that a suspicious person had been observed, run into the Texas Theatre and was hiding in the Balcony. I drove my squad car to the theatre. When I arrived there were several police cars already there. I then went to the alley at the rear and entered one of the rear exit doors with three other police officers. A man dressed in a business suit let us through the door and told us, 'The man who acted suspicious is sitting downstairs in the rear of the theatre.' We ask him to point him out to us. Two of the officers went with him to the edge of the Stage and another officer and I went to the exit curtains located to the left of the movie screen. As I looked out into the theatre from the curtains, I can see Oswald being pointed out. He is seated at the rear in the Orchestra section, three rows from the lobby, in the second seat from the right center aisle. He is wearing a dark shirt and sitting calmly. His hands appear to be in his lap. He is staring straight ahead, watching the movie, unconcerned.
As I am deciding my plan of action, I noticed that there are not too many patrons for this Friday matinee, of a Double Billed features, "Cry of Battle" and "War is Hell," boldly displayed on the marquee. I recall how factual these titles would describe reality in just a few moments!
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I observe two men seated directly in the center of the orchestra section who are the nearest to me. The house lights have been turned up and the movie is still grinding away and a battle scene is being screened. I make a decision. I think quickly to myself, "I will try an act of diversion. I will search the two men nearest to me and then search everyone in turn as I approach them. This indirect approach may make him think I am not considering him. Anyway, the shoe clerk could be mistakened, and I am not going to take any chances of missing anyone. I must be careful, very careful. One small mistake can cost another life."
As the officer with me and I walk out of the curtains, the movie stops abruptly and the theatre becomes darker. The reflected images on the screen had provided some light. The house lights remain on. I try to keep my eyes on Oswald without actually staring. His cold eyes are staring into mine. I can see no movement from him. I ask myself, "could this little man be a killer?" I remember past experiences, looks and action can be very deceiving. I must wait to call his hand. A mistake must not be made now. I enter the row behind the two men seated in the center. I try not to seem nervous or over anxious. I try to use a steady, nonchalant walk, unhurried. My uniform is an obvious symbol of authority but my voice must be firm and unbroken.
"Stand up," I commanded, and the two men respond immediately. The other officer searches the men to my left while I make a...
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...fast frisk of the other. I keep glancing over my right shoulder at Oswald. He has not moved yet. He is calmly sitting with his hands in his lap and his frigid eyes are piercing my back. His face reveals no emotion or expression. What must he be thinking? I remind myself, "I must keep the diversion." Act as if he is just a normal movie goer and your interest is only these two men you are searching. I glance at him every few seconds, trying not to forget that the murderer is sitting behind my back. Still, no change in his position. I am sufficiently satisfied with the search of these two men. I tell them to be seated.
Without haste, I walk out of the row to the right center aisle and start walking directly towards him. Maybe I can prevent a stand off. My pistol remains strapped in my holster. My hand is open and swinging free at my side. My searching eyes are more concentrated on two other patrons seated on my left, but I keep him in the corner of my eye. Still no movement or change in his position.
I continue walking up the aisle, trying to act as if I am going to pass him by. The element of surprise may still prevail. I am secretly stalking him as a hunter is to the hunted. I have the strange feeling that everyone in the theatre is looking directly at me, watching my every move. I must remain calm and reserved as he seems to appear to me. I am almost there now!
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Still, no movement from him. I think to myself, it is working. I turn quickly, an abrupt and definite move. We are only inches apart. His hands are folded in his lap. As he calmly looks up to me, I speak in a strong and determined voice, "Get on your feet!" He has waited too long now to make a free and open move and he has suddenly realized it. He stands up slowly, facing the screen. He turns his head and we are face to face. I am looking directly into his eyes. In trying to conceal his guilt, his expression changes to innocence and surprise. Without a command, he starts bringing both hands up. In a voice of resignation he speaks softly, 'Well, it's all over now.' I think quickly to myself that he is giving up and I am surprised in the simplicity of the arrest. I have him now.
My hands start reaching for his waist to make the routine search of his person. His left hand has reached eye level and his right hand is shoulder high. His left hand suddenly makes a fist and he strikes out with all his strength as it explodes between my eyes. I think, 'My God, this is it. He is not giving up after all.' The blow knocks me off my balance and my police cap flies from my head. His right hand, with the same...
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...darting movement as his left, goes to his waist, and I can see him pulling the pistol from his clothing. An automatic reaction of aggression begins with my body before my brain can command me. He is bringing the pistol up to my chest.....I grab for it with my left hand. I clutch his weapon firmly over the cylinder and the hammer with all the strength I can muster. I feel the hammer glide under my hand as he pulls the trigger, and then the sudden return of the hammer makes a definite sounding 'snap' as it strikes my hand. I am rigidly waiting for the bullet to strike my chest but the miracle of my strength retards the action of the cylinder and the hammer. The bullet does not receive the full striking force. I pivot the pistol to the side and away from my body.
With a lunge of desperation, I knock him into the seat and my body completely covers his, as I fall on top of him. I am desperately struggling for possession of his pistol. My life depends on gaining control of his weapon. I yell out to the other officers around me, 'I've got him!'
I am not concerned about the blows I have received on my face and head. I know that he can't kill me with his fist, but until I have complete possession of the pistol, all our lives will be in jeopardy.
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I finally manage to grip the pistol with my right hand. I bring the weapon around and push the muzzle directly into his stomach. A flashing thought of anger passes through my mind.....I can just as easily pull this trigger and kill him and have no remorse. But a second thought comes to me. The element of immediate danger has now passed. I have complete control of his pistol and we have him subdued now. I am not an executioner. Justice must prevail.
Leading him handcuffed out of the theatre, I could hear him using obscenities and making accusations of police brutality.
For a few moments, I remained seated, catching my breath, regaining my strength and composure. I collected my thoughts as to what had just occurred. All that had happened was within a span of just a few moments that seemed like hours. I was reminded how close I had come to death once again.
By: Maurice N. McDonald
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