My name is Justin Thurmond.

I have been a professional stage actor for 51 years.

Now that my doctor has informed me that I will most likely not live to see my 72nd birthday,

I feel at this time to write of an incident that has haunted me for two decades.

I have told no one, not even my beloved wife of what I witnessed inside Ford's Theatre

in Washington on April 10, 1865.

I am of sound mind as I write this as my colleagues in relatives can attest.

On the day in question, the theatre troupe I was temporarily associated with was running

through a dress rehearsal of our American cousin, which would be performed at Ford's

Theatre for President Lincoln four nights later.

I recall standing with the director of the play and three fellow actors re-blocking

a scene on the stage.

It came to pass that I noticed someone watching us work, someone who was sitting in a balcony

box above us toward the back of the theatre.

I could not see the man very well, and though I said nothing, I felt uncomfortable with

someone watching, no one was supposed to be inside Ford's Theatre that day, who was

not actually involved with a company.

Eventually, I was able to turn my attention away from the dress-passor.

About fifteen minutes later, however, that same gentleman appeared walking across the

front of the house, and this really was a distraction.

The man was rather short and completely bald, but very well dressed.

The first thing I and the others on stage noticed was that the man seemed very, very pale.

...