THE STATE OF TEXAS

COUNTY OF DALLAS

BEFORE ME, Mary Pattan

a Notary Public in and for said County, State of Texas, on this day personally appeared,

Frank Hagood, Texas School Book Depository Employee

Who after being by me duly sworn, on oath deposes and says:

I am a worker at the Texas School Book Depository, and have been since I retired from law enforcement in September ‘62. Mr. Roy Truly, superintendent of the building, gave me my current job then. I told him I wanted something that would get me out of the house in my old age, so I was given the role of checker. I check the book orders and assure they are sent to the correct schools in the area.

On Friday, November 22, 1963, approximately 12:00 PM, I was in the second-floor employee lunchroom of the Texas School Book Depository. It was quite packed, as it tended to be during that hour.

Me and some of the other workers I knew got finished with our assignments early that morning, and we all went down to get chicken sandwiches and drinks from the catering service that would come by the building each day for our lunch. None of us could hardly contain our excitement or anticipation surrounding President Kennedy’s parade that day. I was told that it was routed down Elm Street right outside the building.

This was of course a very exciting time in the city of Dallas because of the President’s scheduled arrival. All the prepared festivities looked incredible. Absolutely incredible. In my time I had never seen such a spectacle for any visiting politician. American flags donned each bridge and building. Likenesses of Kennedy’s face hung on banners attached to street lights. Entire parks were roped off for exclusively visitors and spectators as one may imagine.

Anyhow, the major debacle at this point was figuring out where we might get the best view of Kennedy. I thought we ought to have gone up to the empty sixth floor, go out at a corner window that overlooked Dealey Park. Another gentleman I knew who said he’d be there had a key for us. Some of the others said we oughta go outside or sit down on the stairs of the building or something to that effect.

For that reason we were all still sitting at a narrow booth in the lunchroom corridor as Kennedy neared. A few minutes passed thereafter, and that’s when I saw Mr. Lee Oswald enter through the door nearest to us.

We’d only spoken to each other a few times. Strictly employee matters of course. 

Other than that I usually liked to keep my distance from Oswald. The same might be said of all the other depository employees as well. He really was sort of an outcast around there. I heard rumors that he’d defected to the Soviet Union once. Everybody else thought he was homosexual. All of that was probably just speculation, but either way I didn’t have any desire to get involved with him.

Now my recollection is that I saw Oswald fiddling with the Coca-Cola machine. It sat right across from our booth, next to a dark green icebox, and a row of cabinets that extended to the door from where he came. This was particularly odd since the gentleman always had a Dr. Pepper in his hand. That was one thing I did notice about him. In fact, I don’t ever recall a time when he bought a Coke except for that moment.

So we all chuckled a bit. One of the book packers, Eddie Piper, turned to me and wisecracked, “No Dr. Pepper today?”

Oswald overheard the joke.

He turned with an entirely foreign expression. He had this distraught look in his eye. Hysterical rather. His blue pupils glistened like gemstones. The reply was rather cold, “Dr. Pepper machine’s outta service,” as saliva spewed from his lips.

I looked toward the other workers. They looked back to me, and to each other. We were, in some regard, confused by his hostility. One of my good friends offered, “How’s about we lay off of him? We oughta get outside anyhow, parade’s about to come on through.”

I agreed. Then as I was getting myself to stand upright from the booth, I watched as Oswald flipped. He had jammed a silver nickel down the coin dispenser to no avail. Then another nickel. No Coke bottle came out either time. Only problem was that he was fixated on getting this Coke.

After sending in a third nickel with nothing in return, he began to kick the machine incessantly like a little toddler who doesn’t get his way. He bashed in the sign with the red Coke lettering that read Drink Coca-Cola on the top, and very nearly ripped off the rusted chrome coin dispenser. He howled profanity all the while in his Louisiana drawl.

He’d never acted out quite like that before. He was outcast, always a relatively calm fellow.

I felt I had to do something. Oswald had caused quite the ruckus. Most of the other workers in the lunchroom looked on in confusion. A few women shrieked in terror, and I believe that some others got the attention of the Dallas authorities.

“You quit that right now, young man,” I raised my voice, as I reached out and used a bent-arm takedown technique I got from my time in the Texas Rangers. It didn’t work to the same effect as it would have in my younger years however.

To my surprise Oswald shouted and turned with a jolt, “Get out of my sight, old timer!” He struck me with his bare fisted hand right in between my nostrils, and I fell immediately to the floor. My face was now bruised and battered.

At this point in time, Mr. Roy Truly charged through the front doorway of the cafeteria. He was followed closely by two local police officers, coming over in brute fashion. He dressed in a beige rancher’s suit, cigar between his jaws, and pointed his fingers at Oswald on his approach.

He called out with a thunderous voice, “I am not gonna have this on my watch, on this day, boy! I will not stand for this appalling behavior in my depository!” Evidently someone had alerted him to our scuffle already.

He took the cigar from his mouth and faced the officers. “Now, there’s an open stores and supplies room up them stairs on the third floor,” he pointed out the nearest doorway, “I want these fellas taken there immediately, the both of ‘em. Bolt down the door and don’t let ‘em get out. Do not let them start any other trouble neither!”

Truly turned back to face Oswald, and to my person laying on the ground, as the two officers came around to ‘detain’ us. “There will be punishment for fighting in this building,” he roared. “And this is no time to be testing me. Not on the day of Kennedy’s parade. Do you people understand?”

Oswald only looked at him with contempt, and it was not long before he began to shout back at him some further vulgarities. The man was simply out of control.

I was of the opinion that the punishment was somewhat egregious, but that rules were rules nonetheless. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved in any event, so perhaps I deserved to be locked away and miss out on the motorcade.

“Unbelievable,” I faintly heard Truly scoff as we were taken out the door. “Beyond unbelievable!”

Within the ensuing minute or two, we were being dragged down the main second-floor corridor, and up the near stairwell to the room that Truly spoke of; like misbehaved children. Now it was about 12:20. By some rough estimates, Kennedy was set to drive by the building in under five minutes. Everyone that had been in the lunchroom was now leaving to watch.

As I began to collect myself once again, I recall that Oswald remained combative. This time not with me, but with the officers placed in charge of us. Squirming, screaming, irritation, the like. Such behavior was conceivable I suppose. Given the circumstances.

He must have said it a dozen times, “Let me go! Get me outta here! I don’t belong here, I’ve got somewhere to be! You don’t understand!” The officers paid no mind to his requests of course.

Once we were taken inside the cramped confines of the storage room, Oswald cowered down into one the back corners by an exposed beam. It was particularly shadowy. I decided to stay at a distance from him. There was a fair-sized set of filled boxes in the center where I took a seat, and attempted to switch on a light. It was burnt out.

The rest of the time we didn’t so much as utter one syllable to each other. I don’t believe we ever made eye contact. The both of us were staying to ourselves. 

That was, for all of about a few minutes—

—There come the sound of a woman running down the stairwell, becoming continuously louder as it reached the third floor hall, and neared the storage door.

It was miraculous. In a matter of seconds she started to unlock the bolted door. I presumed that the officers must have left, went out to see the president.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she wailed once she opened the door, “all the saints!”

I looked up at her. It was a woman named Doris Ray Burns, who worked down at the desk.

I arose and inquired, “Doris? What’s the matter, Doris? Why are you here?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I saw they took you boys up here after your fight…I - I didn’t know what to do. I figured I ought to let you out, there’s been a - ah, oh I shouldn’t tell.”

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

She now wiped her face and shook her head. “The president’s been shot,” she cried. “I heard three rifle shots, and no doubt that one came from the railroad bridge overpass. And a few others come from behind that picket fence outside the depository.”

It wasn’t two seconds after Doris informed me of this that Oswald came stumbling out the door from behind me. He looked shocked. That was the last I’ve seen of him though, as he was going down the third floor hallways yesterday afternoon. The last anyone I know saw him either.

Doris and I decided to walk outside to ground level after this. The last she told me was that Kennedy was not yet deceased, but being taken to Parkland Hospital. Also that the local police were searching the sixth floor of the depository. It seemed they had found a hunting rifle with stray bullets, riddled on the plywood floor, right underneath a street-facing window.

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SUBSCRIBED AND SWORN TO BEFORE ME THIS 23 DAY OF November  A.D 1963

MARY PATTAN

NOTARY PUBLIC, DALLAS COUNTY, TEXAS