The White House, September 1, 1864
John Wilkes Booth dropped to his knees and looked up into Abraham Lincoln"s weary eyes. “Please, sir, I beg you.” He clasped the president"s hands. “I"m desperate.”
The president leaned forward and expelled a sigh. The gaslight cast a glow over his gangly form, backlighting him like a ghost. “Several officials have asked me the same thing. I know it"s a tragedy for all of us, son, on both sides.”
All dignity and poise forgotten, Wilkes entwined his fingers with the president"s. “We"ve suffered enough heartbreak with this war, Mr. President. You"ve seen our cities in ruins and our people starving. Just this one favor, on behalf of the South, and so many of us will be forever grateful.”
“I would like to,” Lincoln said.“But I"ve already spoken to your fu
