Here’s an essay I found while rummaging through Cairo’s papers. I’m not sure what he planned to do with it. He seems to have had an obsession with the Kennedy assassination (possibly related to when he was born), as this isn’t the only writing I’ve found by him on the topic.
The Dark Knight
Lee Harvey Oswald was born in 1939, which placed him securely into what has come to be known as “the Silent Generation” which fell between those who fought World War II, and their children, the Baby Boomers. He was born in New Orleans, and lived in New York, briefly, as a child. At 17, Oswald joined the Marines and went to Asia. At 20, he defected to the Soviet Union, attempted suicide to make the authorities notice him, and was rewarded with the rarest of Soviet rarities, an apartment all to himself. This was in Minsk, where with the two years it took him to realize he hated living there and started the process to leave, he managed to find a wife and start a family.
In 1962, Oswald returned to the U.S. and was disappointed that no one seemed to care. He had the misfortune of settling in one of the states of the old Confederacy, where people tended to politely overlook subjects they felt were unpleasant. Oswald wanted people to notice him, to acknowledge him. In the Soviet Union, he had become a champion for the American Way of life; now, back on American soil, he could find no end to the hardships in the U.S. He spent Fall and Winter of ’62 antagonizing the Russian community of Dallas, constantly at odds with their protectiveness of his young wife.
He befriended George DeMorenschilt, a large, boisterous man who counted among his acquaintances Jackie Kennedy, and who could, perhaps, have introduced Oswald to the president if the three were ever in Dallas at the same time, though history would note that Dallas was the last place Oswald and Kennedy should have been at the same time. On November 22, one year before Oswald entered the history books, he had Thanksgiving dinner with his brothers, Robert, and John Pic, and his mother Margueritte. It would be the last time the family was together until the following year, when they would see one another at Dallas police headquarters. That Christmas, he and Marina sent a card to the Soviet embassy.
1963 was to be a busy year for Oswald. He had much to accomplish and only eleven months in which to do it. In April, he came home one night and told Marina he had just shot Maj. General Edwin Walker. Marina didn’t know who this was, but she was pretty sure he didn’t deserve to be shot, and started to worry that they’d be arrested, or worse. Oswald had missed Walker by the slimmest of margins, however, and decided instead to shoot former Vice President Richard Nixon, who wasn’t even in town at the time. Marina stopped him by locking him in the bathroom, and hiding his guns. He eventually gave up trying to shoot anyone that spring, but figured he’d shoot someone eventually. It seemed a waste to have two perfectly good firearms without being able to use them.
As summer drew near, he moved himself and his soon to be expanding family to his home town of New Orleans. Prior to the arrival of Marina and June, however, Oswald tried to find out something about himself. He visited his father’s grave and spent some time calling the Oswalds in the area until he found someone to whom he was related, and spent one afternoon learning about his family. What it was that set off this flurry of introspection on his part and what it told him about himself will never be known.
He spent the summer of ’63 wreaking havoc among the Cuban exile community in New Orleans with his imaginary friend Alec Hidel. He appeared on television once, and on the radio twice, and finally, through stubborn persistence, convinced the Fair Play for Cuba Committee that it should steer clear of him.