with him that very day. At twenty-six years of age, John Wilkes Booth,son of the great tragedian Junius Brutus Booth and brother to Edwin,America's most acclaimed Hamlet, was the toast of Washington. Histheatrical triumphs followed him from Richmond to Boston and hisfuture was assured as a brilliant and beloved star. But in one terribleinstant, it all vanished. Why did he throw his destiny away? Who was he behind the handsome face and winsome persona? What forces were atwork at his side, opening the way for his entrance into the President's private boxseat and cutting the telegraph wires between the capital andsurrounding army posts? Did his story really end at the burningfarmhouse? What happened to the lives of those who loved him?Our history books have been silent over mysteries kept hidden for generations. But strange tales have come down to us through the friendsand family of John Wilkes Booth that have yet to be told. Tales of secretsocieties, escape to foreign lands, children fathered after the father's presumed death...And the shadow of a curse, one recognized by Boothhimself while on the run in the swamps near the Potomac.
Behold, Thou has driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from Thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond inthe earth.
This ancient curse is strangely fitting to Booth's destiny as aresult of his terrible deed. It may even have become a greater retributionthan the accepted historical theory that his life was ended by a soldier's bullet. But the impact of his terrible deed also reverberated downthrough the generations, overshadowing the lives of his descendants. Iam one of them, his great-grandson thrice removed. My great-grandmother was the grandaughter of the assassin of Abraham Lincoln.Her mother, Ogarita, was Booth's daughter. She was six years old whenhe pulled the trigger at Ford's Theater and became transformed from arevered matinee idol to a desparate fugitive and lonely wanderer uponthe earth. Booth's great-grandson, C. Edward Clutts, my grandfather, hasrecently turned ninety-one years of age. For most of his life, he wouldnot speak of our ancestor out of shame and concern for his own safety.Part ThreeThe Research
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SET-UP FOR MURDER
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