Updating the "Kill Bill File?"
That's a No No!
02-16-2016
Mr.
Rivera –
I’m
beginning to despair—as with Los Angeles—about whether anyone will help get me
out of this community that has treated me badly since a pervert appeared in the
alley and dogs bit me on the way to school in 1963. November 22? The nun said,
“Go straight home. Do not talk to anyone. Do not stop for anything.” Though I
could show a “friend” where the ice cream stand was, I apparently have none. To
know Bill Hughes is to know that even with JFK down, I thought about stopping
for a soda. Mom said, “Go straight upstairs.” (To my room).
Later,
an ashen, visibly shaken Charles E. Hughes appeared in his thick black topcoat.
My parents sat at the kitchen table smoking cigarettes. “Margaret, how could
this happen?’ my late dad asked. He asked me if I was scared. “A little,” I
said. He went back to work. Why does this entire town, and my alleged family,
behave as if he never existed?
Mom
called it “mental cruelty.” I call it bullshit. If the Baker Hughes women in my
“fan club” do not want to drive with a pile of cash on the dash, I guess I will
have to ask if someone in your camp will. Every story is true, but my multi-cassette
interview tape with the late George McGovern, like everything else, seems to be
“missing.”
Thanks,
William
C. Hughes
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