Pilot Error (for John Kennedy Jr.)
They said it was your fault, they said it was a miscalculation, spatial disorientation.
Forget the bomb in the tail of the plane, forget “that”, “that” wasn't mentioned,
you'd need to see the classified report to know about “that.”
Sister warned, don't run, you'll end up like father.
He wouldn't listen. The Democrats knew,
“My goodness, he plans to run for president as an independent next election!”
No, that would upset too many apple carts,
upset too many stakeholders in the political cesspool.
And yes, “those” others found out and put a stop to it, the ones who used “that.”
Pilot error perhaps, but not in the plane.
You'd just met with the men who knew the scoop, who filled you in, and you planned to expose “those” responsible for their crimes over 30 years ago.
But “those” characters don't leave you alone, they watch and wait,
and listen to the wind on the ides of March or in your case July.
So you trusted in fate to deliver you safely, never trust her, she will surprise you.
You wanted to become an actor, but mama didn't approve. No my son, it is The Law for you.
Another who passed the bar joked about your failing twice, but then he wanted to be a lawyer, never wanted to be anything other, not like you.
When they say pilot error, when they say three bodies, when there were four aboard. You told a friend your instructor was going with you. When they cover the trail to truth, I think of your lovely wife in her
third trimester pregnant, the fetus a boy, your unborn son.
Then I think of another son standing with his mother and sister on a cold November morning saluting a horse drawn carriage with flag draped coffin. Such handsome qualities, such a keen and playful mind. Different in many ways from your father, yet cut from the same cloth and destined to meet same end.
(Above image of a Piper Saratoga PA32 II HP ink drawing by Allen Forrest)