Craig: So here we are some 150 years after the shot that rocked a nation to its foundation. Tell me, Mr. Booth do you regret anything about what occurred on the night of April 14th 1865?
Booth: Firstly, let me commend you on this coffee that you have served up. I must say sir that it is exquisite! Reminds me of my sister Asia's concoction that I use to thoroughly enjoy.
Craig: Well thank you Mr. Booth, but I really cannot take the credit for the taste. That, sir, belongs to the Maxwell House coffee brand supplied by Kraft Food Groups, along with my Keurig one-cup coffee brewer.
Booth: A Keurig what?
Craig: (Laughing) Never mind Mr. Booth, a product of the 21st century, something well after your time.
Booth: (Twirling his moustache) I detect a bit of Yankee sarcasm in your voice sir. But I shall let it pass this time.
Craig: I did not mean to be offensive sir and I apologize if I have offended you, but let's get back to the question. Any regrets?
Booth: Indeed. If you had to spend the last century and a half on the run you would have regrets also.
Craig: I see, but you do not have any regrets about pulling the trigger and killing Mr. Lincoln?
Booth: I did it for my country and for no other reason. The only regret that I have is the pain and the shame that I have inflicted on my dear mother!
Craig: Did you not think of this before you entered Mr. Lincoln's box that night?
Booth: (Thinking) It was a rash, mad act brought on by desperation and a powerful desire to make a difference for a cause that I cherished wholeheartedly.
Craig: I see. So you never thought about the anguish that you might cause your aging mother and family? You acted on a pure selfish desire to gain instant fame and eternal glory is that correct?
Booth: Selfish? Hardly Sir! And I resent the implication! I told you that I killed Lincoln for my country which was and still is the South! (Booth raises his fist in the air and makes a sweeping downward motion with his arm as if he were cutting the air with a dagger)
Craig: (Changing the subject) You have spilled some of your coffee Mr. Booth. Would you like another cup?
Booth: (suddenly realizing that his outburst of emotion has soiled his dark colored suit) Oh...yes...I could use another cup, and could you add a little brandy to it?
Craig: Of course Mr. Booth. Let's make it an Irish coffee shall we?
Booth: Yes...Yes...That will be fine.
I returned a few minutes later with Mr. Booth's request and found him sitting cross legged with his index finger on his cheek as if he were in a photographers studio posing for a shot. He looked pensive but his expression brightened when I handed him his beverage. He took a sip, closed his eyes, and thrust his head back in dramatic fashion.
Booth: Exquisite!
Craig: Okay, let's start again. If you could turn back the clock and find yourself in Ford's theatre on the evening of April 14, 1865 would you still assassinate President Lincoln?
Booth: (reflecting thoughtfully) Well, since you have asked the question in a straightforward way I will answer it bluntly. Yes! He was the cause of all our miseries! The cause of our misfortune and the tyrant deserved to enter eternal damnation in the manner that he did! I have no regrets other than what I have already revealed to you.
Craig: I appreciate your straightforward answer Mr. Booth. Let me ask you something else.
Booth: Yes. Please do! It has been many years since I was the subject of an interview.
Craig: Great. So what have you been doing all these years...I mean, it has been a long time since Boston Corbett gunned you down at Garrett's farm.
Booth: (Contemplating the question) What do you think that I have been doing? I've been hanging out with Davy. We have traveled through damn near every wooded region in the south looking for succor and a place to rest. We have camped out in fields, swamps, on the sides of mountains, in caves, old abandoned houses, and any other place where we can lay our weary heads! It is very tiring, and I cannot understand why we are destined to roam about like this for eternity! Also, I am sick and tired of hearing Davy complain about his broken neck!
Craig: (laughing) I understand. I'll bet it is somewhat frustrating.
Booth: (A stern look crosses his face) You laugh! You mock me Sir!
Craig: No, No! You have interpreted me wrong Mr. Booth. I am merely laughing at your description of Davy's neck.
Booth: (Appeased) Oh...I see, well ok then, I shall let it pass this time!
Craig: Another question for you.
Booth: Certainly!
Craig: How does it feel to go down in history with the likes of Brutus and Lee Harvey Oswald?
Booth: Ah yes! Brutus! But I am more famous than he! (wagging his finger at me) But Oswald? No, he was just a patsy. No sir! Do not compare me with the likes of them! I am like King Richard at Bosworth field! Or perhaps Hamlet avenging the death of my father!
(Booth stands up and downs the remainder of his drink before striking his best pose as Hamlet and pretending to dual with a sword)
Booth: Ah! Claudius I have you now!
Craig: Okay Mr. Booth. Your point is well taken!
Booth: (sitting back down in his chair and regaining his composure) Sorry. Please continue with the interview.
Craig: Gladly. What do you think about the state of your country today? When I say "your country" I am referring to the southern United States which you told me earlier is still your country.
Booth: I am appalled, sir, by the direction that this country has drifted in the last fifteen decades. Not just in the South, but in the North as well! Back in the day it was I John Wilkes Booth who was the idol of the times! A dignified, patriotic and stalwart youth who personified all that manhood was meant to be! Now who are the idols of their day? These miserable miscreants! Who is this arrogant, impudent, impostor of manhood that drives around in one of those horseless carriages, and goes by the preposterous name of Justin Biebo or some other such nonsense!
Craig: (Laughing) I'll have to admit Mr. Booth that although you really didn't answer my question you hit a home run there! On to the next question.
Booth: Yes. of course!
Craig: Lets us get back to the 19th century. Were you disappointed when the leaders of the Confederate government did not embrace you after shooting Mr. Lincoln?
Booth: I am not so sure that they did not embrace me! By God there was a lot going on in those final days!
Craig: Well, some of the top cabinet members including Jefferson Davis believed that the shooting of Lincoln actually hurt the Southern cause. Do you believe this?
Booth: (Standing and raising his fist in the air) Sic Semper Tyrannis!
Craig: Okay, well, I guess you answered that question.
Booth: (Sitting down) Indeed Sir! Indeed!
Craig: By the way, where is Davy?
Booth: (Looking puzzled) Why where do you think he is? He is out in the woods! By God he has been out there with me since he got his neck stretched!
Craig: (Standing up, and gazing into the woods where he spots a man wearing a coat and light colored pants. His neck is cocked at an awkward angle. He waves.) Hello Mr. Herold!
Davy: Uh...Hi!
Booth: A simple minded youth he is!
Craig: A youth? He is almost 170 years old?
Booth: Not in our world sir!
Craig: One last question Mr. Booth.
Booth: Shoot!
Craig: Did you ever believe in your wildest imagination that people would still be talking about you 150 years after your death?
Booth: (A sinister chuckle) Death? Ah ha! Dead in the flesh! But never in the minds of men!
Craig: Or women Mr. Booth, this is the 21st century!
Booth: Of course I knew that people would still be talking about me I am John Wilkes Booth!! (With this, Booth rises and stumbles down the porch steps holding the back of his head) Damn that Corbett was a good shot! Curse him!
Craig: So long Mr. Booth!
Booth: (Turning around to acknowledge me) By the way, if Conger or Stanton comes looking for me my name is not Booth!
Craig: (Confused)Well, than who shall I say dropped by?
Booth: (Cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering) Boyd! Tell them Boyd stopped by for a chat. (cocking an eyebrow) Wait, no! The name is St. Helen! Yes, that is it... tell them St. Helen is in town. (He laughs and waves his hat at me) So long Yankee!
Booth skips into the forest and gathers up Davy who is bombarding him with questions which because of the distance I cannot understand. The last I see of them is a spectral glance of Davy's coat as he darts around a large maple tree.
