Hellhound on His Trail: The Stalking of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the International Hunt for His Assassin

Daddy King recognized that in the face of concerted evil, his son had nowhere to hide. “No matter how much protection a person has, it will not be enough if the enemy is hatred,” he would write. His son’s fate, he realized, had been sealed years earlier. “To avoid it was impossible, even as avoiding the coming of darkness in the evening.” The

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For poverty is miserable. It is ugly, disorganized, rowdy, sick, uneducated, violent, afflicted with crime. Poverty demeans human dignity. The demanding tone, the inarticulateness, the implied violence deeply offended us. We didn’t want to see it on our sacred monumental grounds. We wanted it out of sight and out of mind.

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If this book is a thriller, it’s also a requiem, the story of the last days of a great figure and the end of his movement.

It was the biggest investigation ever conducted, for a single crime, in U.S. history.” Several

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pulchritude,

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the FBI’s search for MLK’s killer began, a manhunt that would become the largest in American history,

Then she spoke with Yolanda, her eldest child, with whom she'd been shopping all afternoon for an Easter dress. "Mommy, I'm not going to cry," Yoki said resolutely. "I'll see him again in heaven."
But something was bothering her, something clearly nagged at her young conscience. "Should I hate the man who killed my father?" she asked.
Coretta shook her head. "No, darling, your daddy wouldn't want you to do that.

the surly orphan of American politics … the grim joker in the deck, whose nightrider candidacy [is] a rough approximation of the potential for an American fascism.” People

This same strain of transcendent “love-your-enemies” thinking guided Young, Abernathy, and the others as they began to contemplate their leader’s death. As Young put it, “We aren’t so much concerned with who killed Martin, as with what killed him.” It

Wallace seemed to draw strength from the restiveness in the air. “He has a bugle voice of venom,” a commentator from the New Republic wrote, “and a gut knowledge of the prejudices of his audience.” A Newsweek correspondent covering the Wallace rallies, noting “the heat, the rebel yells, the flags waving,” and the legions of “psychologically threadbare” supporters, declared that Wallace “speaks to the unease everyone senses in America.

What a sordid tradition of violence we have in our country—and what an alarming record of assassinations and assassination attempts.

Yet Wallace and other segregationists created an inflamed environment in which a confused but also ambitious man like Ray could think it was permissible, perhaps even noble, to murder King. The signals Ray was picking up enabled him to believe that society would smile on his crime. What