Rawhide Down_ The Near Assassination of Ronald Reagan - Del Quentin Wilber [75]
After finishing the call, Allen and Weinberger returned to the Situation Room, where Allen informed Haig and the others that doctors were about to operate on the president. “But it’s not for publication,” Allen added.
Concerned that they might need the country’s nuclear war plans and codes, Allen requested that a duplicate nuclear football be brought to the Situation Room. When it arrived, he stashed it by his feet. He also obtained an authentication card. (Reagan’s military aide had the president’s football at the hospital, and the FBI had recovered Reagan’s nuclear code card. On Air Force Two, Bush had his own authentication card and his own military aide carrying a football.)
Just as Allen and Weinberger began discussing the alert status of U.S. forces, David Gergen appeared on the television mounted on the room’s wall. He was at the podium in the White House press room, before a large crowd of reporters.
“This is to confirm the statements made at George Washington hospital that the president was shot once in the left side this afternoon as he left the hotel,” said Gergen, who stumbled over a few of his words and looked a bit shaky as he read his notes at the podium. “His condition is stable. A decision is now being made whether or not to operate to remove the bullet. The White House and the vice president are in communication.… We have been informed by Jim Baker that the president walked into the hospital. I would also like to inform you that in the building at the moment are the secretary of state, the secretary of the Treasury, and the secretary of defense, and the attorney general, as well as other assistants to the president.”
“What building, the hospital?” a reporter asked.
“No, in this building,” Gergen replied.
“Do you have any condition on Brady?”
“I’m sorry, we do not.”
To Allen, it was like watching a train wreck. Gergen looked wide-eyed and nervous. In a crisis such as this one, Allen knew, it was imperative that the government project confidence.
When Gergen started taking questions, the normally unflappable advisor seemed to struggle to provide useful answers and then had trouble bringing the session to a close. Watching, Allen said aloud, “Don’t take any more questions. He’s not in any state for that. Get off the platform.”
Haig swiveled in his chair to look at the TV screen. “I didn’t think he was going to do that,” he said. “I thought the press guy was going to.”
“He is the press guy,” Allen said. “We haven’t got a press guy.”
As Gergen carried on, Haig and Allen turned their attention back to the message they were preparing for foreign governments.
“Al, they want something about the president being stable,” Allen said.
“That’s right,” Haig said. “‘His condition is stable and he is conscious.… The vice president…’”
“We don’t need to say any more,” Allen said. “‘The vice president is en route—’”
“‘From Texas,’” interjected Weinberger.
“No, we’re not saying from Texas,” Allen said. “‘The vice president is en route.’”
“‘Will return to Washington this afternoon,’” Haig said.
“‘At 6:30,’” said Dan Murphy, Bush’s chief of staff.
“‘Is returning to Washington,’” Haig said.
“‘Is returning to Washington,’” Allen repeated.
Sitting at the end of the table and reviewing some notes, William French Smith, the attorney general, abruptly changed the subject. “Anybody interested in who did it?” he asked.
* * *
JOHN HINCKLEY, LEANING against the wall of a small white interview room in Washington police headquarters, stared blankly at a Polaroid camera held by Secret Service agent Stephen T. Colo. It was 3:50 p.m., and as Colo took seven instant photographs of the would-be assassin, he pondered the young man standing before him. Hinckley was unlike any suspect the agent had ever confronted. He didn’t seem crazy: he wasn’t ranting or twitching or wearing a tinfoil hat. He didn’t seem hardened, sad, or scared. He looked boyish but strangely plain, and his face was utterly without emotion.
Hinckley was silent while the photos were being