The Warren Omissions Read Free

www.TinFoilHatConspiracy.com recently named Flynn their conspiracy theorist of the year. Now whenever there was a conspiracy theory hatched, cable news talk shows clamored to be the first to get Flynn on their sets. It wasn’t a big mark, but it was something. His story on Reagan was toothless in the fact that it was learned long after Reagan’s death. Had Flynn been a reporter and discovered this while Reagan was still in the White House, he would’ve been immortalized. Instead, he was still in search of his Woodward and Bernstein moment. And that was exactly why Flynn found himself standing in D.C. today, braving the chilling October winds on the Metro platform.
    Three days ago, Flynn received a call from a woman named Emma Taylor. She told him it was urgent and needed to meet with him pertaining a document her grandfather willed to her. Flynn had grown accustomed to such calls. The conspiracy theorists often called him about leads and requested that he pay them a visit. But those visits were on his dime, unless he could convince   The National   that there really was a story to be written. Most of the time, Flynn politely declined the invitation. After crisscrossing the country a few times chasing bogus leads from people with fanciful imaginations, he wised up as he watched his bank account dwindle. Yet Flynn didn’t dismiss them all. He developed a handful of subjects and names that required more questions before he would agree to a visit. This latest call happened to fulfill his criteria.
    Squeezing through the Monday rush hour traffic, Flynn boarded the Branch Avenue rail line and sat in a seat at the back of the car. He felt anxious, something foreign to him since he left the agency. Anxious about what this document might mean; anxious that perhaps someone was following him. Based on his conversation with Mrs. Taylor, this document more than met his requirement for a personal visit. If this wasn’t   the   document, with one or two more it certainly could comprise that elusive smoking gun, the holy grail for every investigative journalist: Who was behind the JFK assassination plot?
    Flynn got off at Navy Yard metro station and walked toward the address given to him by Mrs. Taylor. Flynn loved the Capitol Hill neighborhood since it served as a splendid smorgasbord of architecture. Several years ago, the city’s revitalization projection on 8th Street resulted in crafty restorations of older buildings and the introduction of more modern designs. Trendy restaurants and savvy boutique stores gulped up the available commercial sites and the bustle returned. That and well-lit streets attracted younger professionals and returned the area to its former glory. Based on what Flynn knew about the area, he expected to find a young woman in her mid- to late 20s. She likely either worked as a professional in D.C. or was attending law school like everyone else in this town.
    A stained oak door held the numbers for the address given to Flynn. He walked up the steps and grabbed the knocker held in the mouth of a cast iron lion.
    Flynn heard the clicking of heels on a hardwood floor before the drawn out creak of the solid door opening. Instantly, he surmised she was a young business professional. She wore her smooth dark hair up in a bun. Her plain gray skirt and non-descript white blouse were only accented by gray-patterned hose and burgundy heels. She appeared as if she had just arrived home from work.
    “Hi, Ms. Taylor. I’m James Flynn from   The National   .”
    “Please, won’t you come in?” she asked, gesturing inside.
    Flynn stepped through the doorway and held his coat in his hand. She offered to take it for him, suggesting this conversation was going to last a while. He wanted to make her comfortable with him and figured some small talk might be good
    In a short amount of time, Flynn’s pointed line of questioning revealed that Ms. Taylor worked as a curator at the Smithsonian’s National Science Museum, and