Oswald shoulders his rifle on the sixth floor of the book depository and takes careful aim at the driver of a sedan. The motorcade is still a block away, but Oswald has an itch and he wants to scratch it. He fires once, striking the driver in the throat. The occupants of the car blandly look back and forth as if unable to comprehend their dead companion.
The motorcade rounds the corner. The sound of gunfire is still echoing across the grassy knoll and the Secret Service agents fear for the president's well being. One of the agents rushes from the chase car and leaps onto the back of the president's limousine.
"It will be okay, Mrs. Kennedy," he reassures the First Lady.
She swivels her head back and forth smiling broadly. The president continues to wave to vacant buildings. The driver of the limousine slams on the gas. He has to get the president to safety! But alas, the driver is so focused on the flight that he fails to notice the car stopped directly in his path. The limousine slams into the idling vehicle at great speed and the occupants are hurled from the vehicle. President Kennedy slumps on the ground. Jackie O sprawls across the pavement like a pink stain. The governor is dead and has lost his hat; his wife has speared through the windshield and buried her face in the limousine's hood.
The chase car containing the Secret Service agents respectfully stops just before driving over President Kennedy's lifeless body. They wait, hoping that the man they are charged to protect leaps to his feet miraculously unharmed. A motorcycle cop zooms to a halt before the body of the governor. He wonders if Dallas will ever be the same.
Further back in the motorcade panic erupts. A car full of dignitaries careens out of control and zips around the chase car. The driver sees the motorcycle cop but he can't stop in time. Car and motorcycle collide. The motorcycle tears through the remains of Governor Conally and then slams into Jackie O. Her pink corpse is propelled straight up into the air like a rocket. Oswald watches with amusement as she cartwheels thirty feet into the air. She never loses that pillbox hat. More cars keep coming. Some strike the limousine; others crunch over more hapless motorcycle cops. They all manage to somehow avoid the chase car, but nothing else will stand in the way of their escape. Then come the busses and all is lost.
It's a dark day in Dallas.
