A bullet For The President: John F. Kennedy
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West stated that Ruby suffered from “acute paranoia,” but other doctors did not confirm this. Later researchers claimed that West influenced Ruby through medication or hypnosis in order to invalidate his testimony.
After the incident involving Ruby, Dr. West left the military and became head of the Department of Psychiatry at UCLA. On the surface, it was an impeccable career. But, as we already know, several years later the same Dr. West appeared in San Francisco — at the Haight-Ashbury psychiatric center, at the very epicenter of the countercultural revolution.
There, he ran a laboratory studying LSD, where young people, former prisoners, and street girls strangely seemed to appear with unusual frequency — including girls from Charles Manson’s “Family.”
A coincidence? Hardly.
When the U.S. Congress began investigating the MK-Ultra program in 1977, the name Louis Jolyon West appeared in fourteen different files. He denied everything, stating:
“I always acted solely for the sake of science and humanity.”
But the archives allegedly contained letters in which he thanked the CIA for “supporting research into the social consequences of psychoactive substance use.”
Manson died in prison. Ruby died in his cell, complaining that his “brain was burning.” Both were different branches of the same program. Both were products of Dr. West. And when people today speak of Manson, Jack Ruby, LSD, and the CIA, it sounds like a conspiracy theory. But once the dates, documents, and names are placed side by side, it becomes clear: this was not madness, but systematic work.
MK-Ultra did not create monsters — it tested obedience. Dr. West demonstrated that a human being could be turned into a tool. And Manson and Ruby were merely two names on the long list of those who became evidence for this hypothesis.
“Do not fear the monsters created by the government. Fear those who call it an experiment,” — from an interview with a former CIA agent, 1978.
In private notes discovered after his death, West wrote more openly. One document, dated 1968 and allegedly held in the UCLA archives under the code LW-23b, states:
“A man is not free if the right feeling can be induced in him by pressing a button or giving him an injection. But that is precisely what makes him controllable, and that is remarkable. Democracy is impossible without control.”
These were not simply the words of a scientist — they were the credo of an architect of MK-Ultra. He believed that the chaos of the 1960s, the protests, drugs, and hippie culture could all be used as weapons. His task was to turn a social movement into a controllable experiment.
There was another detail. After the Manson murders, West advised the Los Angeles Police Department. He allegedly advised them not to describe Manson as a “product of experiments” in order to “avoid panic and distrust of science.” During the same period, he became a regular guest at film studios, where he was invited to consult on screenplays involving hypnosis, murder, and mass hysteria.
On one occasion, he told an MGM producer:
“People love stories about possession because they do not know how real it is.”
He was invited onto talk shows, where he discussed the “danger of cults.” The irony was that he himself had helped create them.
In 1974, West allegedly sent the Department of Defense a document entitled “Psychiatry as an Instrument of National Security.” It contained a disturbing conclusion:
“The masses need emotional stimulants in order to obey. Television, drugs, fear, and cults are effective tools. We stand on the threshold of a new era — the psychological management of civilization.”
The report allegedly reached a congressional committee only twenty years later, after his death. None of its points was ever refuted.
The world remembered Manson as a murderer and Ruby as a fanatic. But behind each of them stood a man who regarded the human mind simply as a laboratory.
Dr. West did not pull the trigger, write manifestos, or stand at the altars of cults. He created the conditions.
“Once you learn how to break the will of one person, you can control millions. You only need to find the right trigger,” — Louis Jolyon West, unpublished lecture for the FBI, 1971.
And if the archives are to be believed, those triggers had long since been found.
The same psychiatrist was connected to the principal figures in two of America’s greatest tragedies — the assassination of Kennedy and the murders at the Tate residence. In both cases, what appeared on the surface was madness, but behind it was control and psychological conditioning.
West was not merely a doctor. He was an operator within a system that tested how far human behavior could be controlled. And Ruby and Manson’s girls were merely different stages of one and the same experiment.
Chapter 3: “The Second Death Live on Air”
“I was part of a show I knew nothing about… I was supposed to get rid of him, and I did.” — Jack Ruby.
After the killing of Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack Ruby was sentenced to death and soon found himself in the Dallas County Jail. There, he began behaving strangely: complaining that he was being followed, saying that “all of this is part of a larger conspiracy,” and that he had simply been used. In conversations with his attorneys, Ruby repeatedly said:
“I was part of a show I knew nothing about… It was as if I had been told that I was supposed to get rid of him, and I did.”
In an interview with Esquire magazine, he would make a cryptic statement:
“The world will never know the truth about what happened to our president. And my lips will be sealed forever.”
Soon, they would indeed be sealed forever. But for now, Ruby continued to hint that “people at the top” were behind the killing — intelligence agencies, officials, perhaps the Mafia. He continued repeating to journalists and visitors:
“If I told everything, no one would believe me. And I would have been gone long ago. I was supposed to get rid of Oswald. But I didn’t know the whole game. I simply didn’t know…”
His behavior became increasingly strange, marked by emotional outbursts, frequent flashes of anger and tears, and unexplained episodes of panic. He demanded meetings with journalists, only to suddenly refuse to speak with them. He began inventing versions of events, mixing truth with fantasy, sometimes insisting that “someone was watching him through the walls.” He became confused in his statements and wept.
His attorneys wrote in their reports:
“Ruby is clearly under psychological pressure. It is as though he knows something dangerous but is afraid that his words will become fatal to him.”
Ruby repeatedly begged to be transferred from Dallas to Washington, claiming that only there would he be able to tell Congress “the whole truth” and feel safe.
From the transcript of the Warren Commission, June 7, 1964:
“I would like you to take me to Washington, because there I will be able to tell everything. I cannot do it here. Nothing I say here makes any sense. My life is in danger. If you take me away, I will tell the truth.”
“You don’t understand anything here. I am in Dallas, and they can do whatever they want to me. If you don’t take me away, you will never know the whole truth.”
“Our people will never know the real truth about what happened to our president. My life no longer matters. But if you take me away, you will save not only me, but our country.”
Ruby insists that he is under threat in Dallas, repeatedly saying that “everything is under control here” and that either he will be killed or he will not be allowed to speak. He insists that only in Washington will he have the opportunity to expose the conspiracy. He hints that other people were behind Kennedy’s assassination and that both Oswald and his own shooting were part of a larger operation. But he is refused. The Warren Commission and the authorities do not take his statements seriously. His claims are dismissed as paranoia or manipulation. Besides, transferring him to Washington would have looked like an admission that his statements about a “conspiracy” carried weight. The formal explanation was:
“You are already being held in custody in Texas, you were sentenced there by a court, and there is no legal basis for transferring you.”
In the end, Ruby remains in Dallas. In 1966, he is suddenly diagnosed with aggressive lung cancer, which quickly metastasizes to the brain. Doctors note that the disease has progressed with “abnormal speed.” Alongside the illness, Ruby begins frequently complaining of headaches and memory loss, although he had not experienced such symptoms before his imprisonment. Journalists and attorneys notice that he sometimes appears “not himself.” Many reporters believe that Ruby’s behavior is explained by fear. Some journalists claim that Ruby receives letters, visitors, and hints that force him to behave cautiously or theatrically. Outside observers call him “a symbol of the entire game behind the scenes.” On January 3, 1967, Ruby dies in the prison hospital without ever revealing the information he supposedly possessed.
But his strange death was not the only one.
Journalists and reporters visited Ruby in prison. They were interested in him, took notes, and asked questions. One of them was Dorothy Kilgallen — a well-known New York journalist, society columnist, and television personality. She had connections in political and entertainment circles and knew how to obtain information that others could not reach. After the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Kilgallen almost immediately took a public position of skepticism. In her column, she wrote:
“I do not believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. And I do not believe that the American public is being told the whole truth.”
This was not merely rhetoric. Unlike most journalists, who simply rewrote press releases, Kilgallen began working independently with sources. She attended the Warren Commission hearings, documented contradictions, and made notes that she did not publish. But the key event was her interview with Jack Ruby — the man who had shot Oswald live on television.
Dorothy Kilgallen was the only journalist who was permitted a private conversation with Ruby in the Dallas County Jail. Not FBI agents. Not members of the Warren Commission. Her.
After the meeting, she wrote:
“Jack Ruby is not insane. He is frightened. And he knows that his life means nothing.”
In private conversations — according to friends — Kilgallen spoke even more bluntly:
“Ruby told me what he did not dare tell the Commission. Oswald was eliminated. I know who killed our president.”
She claimed that Ruby spoke of protectors, hinted at pressure, and referred to the involvement of people whose names could not be spoken aloud. After the interview, Kilgallen openly stated that the Warren Commission was lying or concealing key facts. From that moment on, she became inconvenient.
In 1964—1965, the tone of the American media changed sharply. Anyone who questioned the “lone Oswald” theory was portrayed as hysterical, a conspiracy theorist, or mentally unstable. In the press, Kilgallen began to be described as “emotional,” “exhausted,” and “a woman with problems.” It was a classic method of discrediting a witness.
Meanwhile, she was preparing a book about the Kennedy assassination. Her editors knew about it. Her close associates knew about it. She reportedly said:
“When everything is published, the country will be shocked.”
But that book would never be published.
On November 8, 1965, Dorothy Kilgallen was found dead in her Manhattan apartment. The official version: an accidental overdose of alcohol and barbiturates.
Kilgallen was found in a bed in which she never slept. According to her family and those close to her, Dorothy always slept in another room. But on the night of her death, she was found carefully laid out, with no signs of a struggle.
She was fully dressed, wearing daytime clothes, which contradicted the theory of an “accidental overdose before going to sleep.”
Reading glasses were found on Dorothy, which, according to her relatives and colleagues, she never wore. Kilgallen used contact lenses and had no habit of keeping glasses beside her bed. This fact was documented, but never explained in the official reports.
Beside the body lay a book that Kilgallen had neither been reading nor kept by her bed. The book was completely outside the scope of her interests, and those close to her insisted that Dorothy had neither started reading it nor planned to. The book looked like a prop — an object intended to create the illusion of an “ordinary evening before bed.”
One of the most disturbing details: Kilgallen was wearing a wig.
In everyday life, she never went to bed wearing a wig. Moreover, those close to her stated that at home, outside public appearances, she hardly ever wore one at all.
A wig on the head of a dead woman is not a domestic detail.
It is a sign of staging.
Medications that had not been prescribed to her were found near the body. According to her treating physicians, she did not take that type of barbiturate.
The amount of alcohol listed in the report did not correspond to the state of intoxication in which witnesses had seen her the day before her death.
No complete forensic autopsy was conducted. Toxicological testing was limited. Some samples were lost.
And most importantly: Kilgallen’s notebook containing her notes on the Kennedy case and her interview with Ruby disappeared.
Family members and colleagues stated that her notebooks had always been kept close to her. According to witnesses, outsiders had entered the apartment and the arrangement of belongings had been disturbed; some papers were missing.
This happened before the materials were officially documented.
What disappeared was precisely what had value not personally, but politically.
Kilgallen’s death was officially ruled an accidental overdose of alcohol and barbiturates.
But the main contradictions remained unanswered.
Other witnesses died or were silenced.
A coincidence?
I don’t think so.
Here, the facts form a line — and that line leads to a conclusion America still is not ready to acknowledge:
The truth about the assassination of the president was dangerous not only to the state — but deadly to those who came too close to it.
Dorothy Kilgallen came too close.
And she paid for it with her life.
For decades, the authorities in New York have refused to reconsider Dorothy Kilgallen’s case, despite repeated requests from journalists, researchers, and her family.
To this day, the official position of the New York authorities remains:
“The case is closed.”
Chapter 4: “A Pawn in Someone Else’s Game”
“I’m just a patsy.” — Lee Harvey Oswald.
Lee Harvey Oswald was born on October 18, 1939, in New Orleans, into a family where chaos had prevailed from the very beginning. His father died two months before his son was born, while his mother, Marguerite, was a harsh and cold woman, unable to provide either love or stability. A single mother after her husband’s death, she had little emotional connection with her children. According to neighbors’ recollections:
“She never hugged her children or praised them. It seemed that, to her, they were more of an obligation than a source of joy.” — witness, archival interviews
The children were raised strictly, with an emphasis on discipline and obedience. For Lee, a sensitive and withdrawn child, this was experienced as emotional coldness. Marguerite constantly changed residences and jobs in an effort to provide for the family, but at the same time demanded independence from Lee and his brothers from an early age. Psychologists who analyzed her parenting style noted:
“Her style was authoritarian and emotionally distant. She controlled her son’s behavior but emotionally withdrew from him.” — Dr. Hartogs, 1953
From an early age, Lee felt “alone,” and he experienced his mother’s demands as pressure, which intensified his withdrawal. Biographers and psychologists believe that his mother’s coldness and strictness contributed to Lee’s sense of alienation, his inability to trust people, and his desire to act independently. This trait would later play a key role in his life. As a teenager, he would turn toward radical ideas and seek his own ways of resolving his conflicts with the world.
“Marguerite was an emotionally detached woman. Her children grew up in the shadow of discipline and a lack of warmth.” — R. Sikorski, Oswald’s Tale
In Oswald’s school records: “Withdrawn, prone to fantasies, displays aggression at the slightest conflict.”
Age 12. He was referred for psychiatric evaluation at Youth House in New York after neighbors complained about threats involving a knife. The conclusion sounded like a warning of the catastrophe to come:
“Emotionally immature, prone to isolation and retreat into his own world. Possible latent psychopathy.”
Age 13. He was sent to a home for troubled adolescents in New York. Psychologist Dr. Hartogs prepared a report in which he noted:
“A 13-year-old boy with good intellectual abilities, but with chronic truancy, which led to his placement in the home for troubled adolescents. Mild neurological abnormalities and psychosis were identified. Diagnosis: personality disorder with schizoid traits and passive-aggressive tendencies.” — National Archives
Dr. Hartogs strongly recommended that Oswald receive treatment at a child guidance clinic and that his mother receive psychotherapy. But this never happened. Lee frequently avoided contact with classmates and teachers. His teachers described him as withdrawn and uninterested in social interaction.
“He did not want to have friends and did not like talking to people.” — National Archives
“Mother and son shared a similar view of the world; both felt like victims, isolated and surrounded by people and government institutions that did not understand their special place in the world.” — History News Network
Age 15. Oswald began to take an interest in socialism. In his diary, he wrote:
“I was looking for the key to my surroundings, and then I discovered socialist literature.”
While serving in the U.S. Marine Corps, his fellow Marines recalled his unusual fascination with Marxism and his cold detachment. One fellow Marine would later say:
“He was always alone. He read Marx’s Manifesto and remained silent. When he fired during training, it felt as though he wasn’t shooting at a target, but at something inside himself.”
Age 19. After leaving the U.S. Marine Corps in September 1959, Lee Harvey Oswald decided to leave the country. He traveled to Europe and then to the Soviet Union, where he intended to remain permanently.
On October 16, 1959, Oswald arrived in Moscow. He immediately submitted an application for Soviet citizenship. In interviews with Soviet officials, he stated that he was a communist and wished to live in the Soviet Union.
But on October 21, 1959, Oswald was informed that his application for citizenship had been rejected. In response, he attempted suicide by cutting his wrist. Soviet authorities placed him in a hospital, where he underwent psychiatric evaluation.
After treatment, Oswald went to Minsk, where he found work as a mechanic at the Horizont factory, which manufactured televisions and radio equipment. He was provided with an apartment and a monthly financial allowance.
In his diary, he writes: “The Soviet system is better than America. Here, people value work and equality. I want to be part of this world, not a world that rejected me.”
“Oswald was given a job and provided with an apartment, despite the fact that he was not officially a citizen. This was standard practice for foreigners who wanted to integrate.” — from the KGB archives. Minsk, 1960.
“He was under observation and, of course, an ideal subject for testing loyalty. But there is no evidence of recruitment.” — James Wilson, Oswald’s biographer.
1961, March. Nineteen-year-old Lee Harvey Oswald meets Marina Prusakova, a pharmacy student from Leningrad, at a dance in Minsk. Six weeks later, on April 30, 1961, they get married. Their marriage is registered at the home of her uncle, who worked in Soviet counterintelligence. And that is an interesting fact.
In an interview with Radio Liberty, Inessa Yahel, a family acquaintance, recalled: “Oswald always spoke very positively about Kennedy” (Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty).
This suggests that during the period of their acquaintance and early marriage, Oswald did not express any negative opinions about the U.S. president. In one of his letters to his parents in 1961, Oswald writes:
“I live here, but I don’t feel like I belong, I don’t feel that I am at home. People are friendly, but my life is controlled from all sides. Sometimes I feel like I am simply a toy in the hands of this system.” — Lee Harvey Oswald, letter to his parents, Minsk, November 1961.
In a letter to friends, he describes his family and work: “Marina is a good girl, she takes care of me, but we live under constant surveillance. The work at the factory is boring, although stable. I think about the future, about where I should go next.” — Lee Harvey Oswald, Minsk, December 1961.
In June 1962, after lengthy bureaucratic procedures, Oswald and Marina left the Soviet Union with their daughter and arrived in the United States, where their lives continued under the close attention of the press and the authorities.
In January 1963, Oswald writes to a friend: “Returning to America is a strange feeling. On the one hand, freedom; on the other, the feeling that everyone knows who I am and watches my every step.” — Lee Harvey Oswald, letter to a friend, 1963.
He also mentions his life with Marina: “Marina and our daughter are my family, but I feel like a stranger everywhere. It seems that my life was scripted, like a film in which I don’t know what my role is.” — Lee Harvey Oswald, personal notes, 1963.
In his diary, he writes: “I am alone. A stranger everywhere. No one understands what I feel. Even my thoughts seem foreign to me. My life is too small, too insignificant. I have to do something to be heard.”
The United States. When Oswald returned to America with his wife in 1962, instead of being subjected to harsh interrogation, he received a relatively mild reception. He was hardly pursued by either the FBI or the CIA, even though the very fact of a “defector returning” should have triggered a serious investigation. Moreover, he was left free, although people had been imprisoned for much lesser offenses. This could have been connected to the possibility that he was simultaneously “under the wing” of both systems — the KGB in the USSR and U.S. intelligence agencies after his return. The question is who ultimately used him as a pawn, and who “burned” him to eliminate the traces. In the USSR, he was surrounded by the niece of an intelligence officer; in the United States, there was an unusually mild reaction from the intelligence services. Coincidence? The dry lines of declassified archives sometimes speak louder than any theory. Here is how the CIA formulated its position in the 1960s. CIA, service memorandum: