In the aftermath of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, fragments were carefully removed from both the president’s body and from Texas Governor John Connally.

Those fragments, according to Chief Nurse Audrey Bell at Parkland Hospital, were turned over directly to the FBI.

That much is undisputed.

What followed, however, defies not only common sense, but the most basic laws of ballistics.

The bullet officially blamed for the injuries to both men—later immortalized as Commission Exhibit 399—was recovered in pristine condition.

Its weight was recorded at 166.1 grains.

A standard store-bought bullet of the same type weighs approximately 161 grains.

And yet, investigators insisted that all fragments recovered from Kennedy and Connally together weighed only 2.

4 grains—barely one and a half percent of the bullet’s original mass.

A claim so mathematically absurd that it borders on parody.

This so-called “magic bullet” was not even found at a crime scene in the traditional sense.

It appeared in the corridors of Parkland Hospital, discovered by a maintenance worker named Darrell Tomlinson.

Blocked from accessing a men’s restroom, he bent down to move a stretcher—and there it was.

 

 

A bullet no one had previously noticed, lying quietly where doctors, nurses, and orderlies had been rushing for hours.

We are told it had passed through the president, shattered bones in Governor Connally, lodged in his thigh, and then somehow—miraculously—fell out on its own, unnoticed by every medical professional who treated him.

This single bullet was expected to explain multiple entry wounds, bone fractures, and internal trauma—yet showed virtually no deformation.

That contradiction alone should have ended the discussion.

But it didn’t.

To their credit, at least one person on the Warren Commission recognized the need for experimentation.

An official test was conducted using the alleged murder weapon and identical ammunition.

Bullets were fired into cotton wadding to preserve their shape, into a goat’s rib to simulate Connally’s rib fracture, and into the radius bone of a human cadaver.

 

 

The results were unmistakable.

Bullets that struck bone were flattened, widened, and visibly deformed.

Even a single rib left its mark.

A fractured radius did even more damage.

And yet, the bullet said to have broken both a rib and a radius—the “magic bullet”—looked better preserved than bullets that hit nothing at all.

Displayed side by side, the evidence spoke louder than any testimony.

The bullet blamed for everything sat there in pristine grandeur, its copper jacket intact, its nose nearly flawless.

The only visible distortion came from the firing mechanism itself, not from bone impact.

 

 

A bullet that supposedly plowed through flesh and shattered bone looked untouched by violence.

This was military-grade, copper-jacketed lead-core ammunition.

One and a quarter inches long.

A quarter inch in diameter.

Designed to deform when striking bone.

And yet it didn’t.

History, however, was already moving on.

Years later, another assassination followed a hauntingly similar pattern of suppressed facts and unanswered questions.

In 1968, Senator Robert F. Kennedy had just secured the California Democratic primary—effectively sealing his path to the presidency.

At the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, security officials decided it would be impossible to escort him through the cheering crowd.

 

 

Instead, they guided him through the back kitchen.

There, Sirhan Sirhan fired his weapon.

Witnesses recalled distances of six to eight feet.

Sirhan’s revolver held eight bullets.

Yet twelve bullet holes were later identified.

He never reloaded.

The fatal shot that killed Robert Kennedy was fired from a distance of one to one and a half inches.

It entered behind and above the right ear, traveling slightly forward.

Sirhan was never that close.

 

 

This critical fact—established during autopsy—was never presented to the jury.

The prosecution avoided it.

The defense never asked.

The jury never knew.

A maître d’, Karl Uecker, physically knocked Sirhan’s arm down and wrestled the gun away mid-attack.

Who fired the remaining shots? The evidence points to a second shooter—an idea dismissed not by science, but by silence.

In 1977, the U.S. Congress formed the House Select Committee on Assassinations.

Panels were created across disciplines—ballistics, acoustics, radiology, photography, forensic pathology.

The forensic pathology panel scrutinized the evidence and found the original autopsy reports deeply flawed.

 

 

And yet, against their own criticism, they concluded the conclusions were somehow “correct.”

History, it seems, was not interested in correcting itself.

The bullets didn’t lie.

The wounds didn’t lie.

The experiments didn’t lie.

But the story told to the public did not match the evidence placed before them.

And that is the quiet horror buried beneath official history—not that questions exist, but that answers were already there, ignored in plain sight.