Speaker 1: What happens when the man who was supposed to become
a memory keeps living a nation still demanding miracles, the moon,
peace certainty from a man who can no longer pretend
he's untouched. Behind closed doors, the whispers begin. Some wonder
what would have been easier, the myth or the man.
In this new podcast from Calaroga Shark Media, John F.
Kennedy is the man who lived Coming President's Day, the
man who lived Wherever you get your podcasts and now.
A scene from episode one.
Speaker 2: At the Justice Department, a small, boxy television had been
wheeled into Robert Kennedy's office. The picture wobbled, the sound buzzed.
It did not matter. Were clear. Three shots motorcade seriously
wounded Parkland Hospital, condition unknown. Bobby stood in the middle
of the room, one hand jammed into his pocket, the
other resting on the back of a chair. His face
was set, but the tendons in his neck strained. The
outer office was chaos. Phones rang without stopping, Shoes thudded
up and down the corridor. Voices overlapped, each one a
little louder than the last, feeding in scraps of information
that contradicted whatever had just been said, sir. Dallas police
say two shots. No wait, there are reports of three,
maybe more. Sir. Someone is saying the governor is down.
We cannot confirm that, sir. The Secret Service is trying
to secure the scene. They are not on this line yet, Sir.
The Pentagon is asking about continuity procedures. If sir stop.
Bobby did not shout the word, but it cut the
room clean in half. He turned slowly, eyes hard. One
at a time, he said, one voice, one fact at
a time. If you do not know, do not say it.
The room fell quiet, except for the phones. An aid
with a legal pad stepped forward, swallowing, Sir, Dallas confirmed
shots were fired at the motorcade. They are not confirming
the president's condition. Parkland has him. That is all they
will say so far. Who are you talking to in Dallas?
Bobby asked local police liaison at the hospital. The Secret
Service field office is overwhelmed. Another phone rang, a younger
staffer grabbed it. He listened for a moment, then held
the receiver against his chest. Sir, the Vice President's staff
is trying to get through. They want to be put
through to you directly. Bobby stared at him. No, The
aid blinked, Sir, I am not taking that call right now.
He says it is urgent. So is this, Bobby said,
pointing at the television. Tell them we will return the
call when we have something real to say. The aid
nodded weakly and backed away. Bobby turned back toward the
set on screen, Cronkite was receiving more paper. He took
off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and
put them back on. His face was still composed, but
his eyes looked older in that moment than most viewers
had ever seen. We are expecting additional reports out of Dallas,
he said. At this time, we can only confirm that
shots were fired at President Kennedy's motorcade and that he
is at Parkland Hospital. We do not yet know his condition.
We do not know the extent of his injuries. We
will bring you more information as it is confirmed. Behind Bobby,
the hallway noise swelled again. Someone mentioned the word defcon
and was told sharply to stop. Someone else asked which
legal authority covered a situation where the president might be
incapacitated but not dead. No one liked that question. Everyone quiet,
Bobby said, without turning He walked closer to the television
until the edges of the p picture blurred. He watched
Cronkite's mouth form the same words again, Parkland shots unknown.
He felt the anger sit in his chest like a stone.
How he said, softly, more to himself than to anyone,
does something like this happen in broad daylight? No one answered.
No one in that room knew if the president was alive.
No one in that room knew if they were watching
the death of a brother, or of a presidency, or
of something bigger than either of those. No one in
that room knew yet how close the world had just
come to breaking.
Speaker 1: The man who lived Coming President's Day. Wherever you get
your podcasts