The Truth of Booth
and the last 24 hours of the infamous assassin.
“Hey, you want to see this painting in the back of my truck?”
Jenn and I looked at each other. These older gentlemen seemed harmless enough. It was a cool day and their Sons of the Confederacy jacket patches were small but noticeable.
We had come to Cedar Grove cemetery in search of someone who had witnessed the last days of John Wilkes Booth. If you are familiar with the manhunt for the infamous assassin, you may know that Union soldiers finally caught up to Booth at the Garrett Farm.
Booth and David Herold hadn’t done a great job at escaping.
They got lost multiple times and were determined to make their way to Richmond, thinking that would be their best shot at finding passage further away from the relentless search for them…the Lincoln assassins…
The End of a Manhunt
The Virginia sun beat down mercilessly, sweat stinging my eyes as I shifted my weight. Fourteen days on the run had left my leg a throbbing agony, a constant reminder of my folly. The Garrett farm, a haven at first, now felt like a gilded cage. The warm smiles of the family and the innocent faces of the children were a constant reminder of the life I'd taken.
Little Richard, his eyes wide with childish wonder, had pestered me about my compass earlier. I, the man who'd plunged a nation into mourning, smiled as he stared in wonder at the mysterious force moving the needle. A hollow laugh escaped my lips, swallowed by a chorus of local cicadas.
Being an actor had its benefits and my years of practice paid off the first night at the farm. Dinner was almost jovial for the Garretts. Yet still, every creak of the floorboards, every sigh of the wind, sounded like approaching cavalry. Herold, ever the simpleton, ate with gusto, oblivious to the storm brewing within me. John Garrett, the elder son, watched me intently, a spark of suspicion flickering in his gaze.
Where did I put my pistol again?
Mrs. Garrett's kindness was genuine but a constant ache to me. Her gentle words, her concern for my "injury," felt like a branding iron on my conscience. I, a monster, basking in the warmth of their hospitality. Later that night, Herold's snores offered little comfort.
Escape.
It was the only thought that kept the creeping despair at bay.
I had slept in the house the night before, but John had raised his father’s suspicions, and they only offered the barn tonight. No matter…I was just so tired.
Did I hear something at the barn door? A latch? …No…that wouldn’t make sense. So so tired.
Suddenly, shouts and the clatter of horses shattered the peace. Union soldiers, their faces grim, surrounded the farm. Panic twisted in my gut.
Trapped.
One of the daughters, her face pale, rushed to the barn. "They're looking for you," she gasped. "They'll burn the barn down if you don't come out."
I had always had a way with women…never seemed to have trouble getting them to believe me. She still didn’t know who I really was…not JW Boyd, that’s for sure.
There was a flicker of humanity in her eyes, a plea. I wanted to confess, to beg forgiveness, but pride, that old serpent, held me captive.
"Let Herold go," I rasped, the words scraping my throat. "He had nothing to do with it."
She hesitated, then nodded curtly. Herold stumbled out, bewildered, his escape a bitter pill to swallow.
With my leg still on the mend, there was no chance of running…I grabbed my pistol.
Flames erupted at the barn entrance, the heat licking at my skin.
Trapped.
I stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat. A voice boomed, demanding my surrender. My defiant reply died in my throat as a searing pain ripped through my neck. The world spun, then dissolved into darkness.
The next sensation was a crushing weight on my chest. A voice, distant and muffled, spoke of justice. I tried to scream, to plead for mercy, but my body wouldn't obey. Paralysis, cold and absolute, had claimed me.
I, John Wilkes Booth, the actor who craved the spotlight, was reduced to a voiceless puppet in the grand drama of my demise. The flames danced a macabre jig, the only audience to my silent scream.
Jenn and I walked over to the older gentleman’s SUV and he opened the back. There was only a single large painting back there, wrapped in a large blanket.
As he unwrapped the painting he was telling us how he got this from an estate sale not far away, his two friends echoing how good they thought it was. It looked pretty old.
It was a painting of a Civil War solider dressed in confederate gray. It wasn’t in amazing condition, but it was actually pretty good… someone’s family had had this for a long time…I guessed it was real. Jenn was skeptical, her museum curator training coming out.
These men we met in Oak Grove cemetery were there for good reason. They had actually revived the cemetery from disrepair over many years, erected monuments to those buried there who had fought in the battle of the Ironclads, and mapped victims of the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1855…good men…keeping history alive.
But a bad man…John Wilkes Booth… died on the morning of April 26th, 1865.
As Booth came charging out of the burning barn, he was shot in the neck by a young soldier named Boston Corbett. In the last moments of his life, Booth asked one of the soldiers to hold up his hands. (he had been paralyzed)
Looking at his own hands, Booth muttered "Useless, useless." And then, at 7:15 am, he passed.
The grave Jenn and I had come searching for was the SON of Richard Garrett who owned the farm Booth escaped to. The son had written a book recounting his memory of Booth…that’s how we knew the details about the compass I mentioned earlier…that little boy was Richard Garrett Junior…buried here, in Oak Grove Cemetery in Portsmouth, Virginia.
Amazing what you can find when you’re willing to get off the beaten path.
Unveiling the Forgotten Facts of John Wilkes Booth's Demise
A Flawed Escape Plan and a Twist of Fate
John Wilkes Booth, a celebrated actor, was fueled by a twisted sense of patriotism when he assassinated President Lincoln. However, his escape plan reeked of impulsiveness.
While details are debated, historical accounts like James L. Swanson's "Manhunt" suggest Booth planned a poorly coordinated escape south. Adding to his woes, a fall during the jump from Ford's Theatre left him with a broken leg.
The Garrett Farm: A Sanctuary Turned Trap
Our journey took us to the town of Portsmouth, Virginia. Here you can find the Cedar Grove Cemetery, the final resting place of Richard Garrett, a young boy who unknowingly played a role in the drama of Booth’s last days.
During the manhunt, Booth and his accomplice, David Herold, stumbled upon the Garrett Farm.
The Garrett family, unaware of their guests' identities, offered them refuge. Richard, then just 11 years old, even interacted with Booth, playing together; later in life remembering his wonder at Booth’s compass. (a primary account of his was part of the “Manhunt” book)
📍The Garrett Farm (historical marker)
Dinnertime Suspicion and a Brother's Intuition
As the days passed, tensions rose within the Garrett household. On April 25th, during dinner, John Garrett, the elder son, grew suspicious of Booth's nervous behavior.
Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't the cavalry who cornered Booth.
John Garrett, acting on his suspicions, locked Booth and Herold in the tobacco barn as they slept that night.
The Final Showdown and the Aftermath
The miniseries depicting a "shot in the back of the head" is inaccurate. Historical accounts suggest Booth was shot in the neck after a tense standoff and a failed escape attempt.
Paralyzed, Booth lay dying for a few hours until he finally passed at 7:15 am, April 26th, 1965.
The Garrett family didn’t know who he truly was until after his death.
A Legacy of Responsibility and Exploration
This journey through history reminds us of the importance of responsible historical representation.
By visiting locations like the Garrett Farm and referencing primary sources like those found in the book "Manhunt", by James Swanson, we gain a clearer picture of the human drama that unfolded after the assassination. So, the next time you find yourself in Virginia, consider venturing beyond the tourist trails and stepping back in time to witness the lesser-known story of John Wilkes Booth's pursuit and demise.
Videos
🎥 Recounting John Wilkes Booth’s last 24 Hours
🎥 Walking the Locations of the Lincoln Assassination
🎥 Inside Grant Hall: Location of the Lincoln Assassin Trials
Podcasts
🎙️ Lincoln Assassination Facts You Never Knew
Books
Chuck Norris won an arm wrestling tournament, with both arms tied behind his back.
Very good job. I have read the book you mentioned, but knew some of the details were wrong. You gave a great account of the events. Thank you