Raising a Whirlwind

In the matter of the People v. James Earl Ray, the plea of guilty to murder in the first degree might have seemed an opportunity for the state of Tennessee to close forever its voluminous dossier on the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Ray admitted that he was the rifleman who had felled King in Memphis with a single soft-nosed .30-'06-caliber bullet. Yet by allowing him to plead guilty and accept a prearranged sentence of 99 years, the prosecution closed the case without a trial. How ever convenient that settlement may have been to both sides, it immediately raised a whirlwind of public questioning that is unlikely to abate for years.

Was Ray a lone killer or a hired gun man? And if he was paid, are the plot ters who bankrolled the killing still free, while Ray is penned in a 6-ft. by 9-ft.

maximum-security cell in the state penitentiary at Nashville? The circumstances of King's murder carried more than a whiff of a conspiracy. In every such case, there are those whose paranoid perspectives demand sinister schemers be hind every act. But this time many skeptics who habitually scoff at fanciful conspiratorial theories also asked some disturbing questions.

Nagging Questions. What grudge did Ray hold against King? What brought the two men to Memphis at a time when Ray, an escaped convict, was a restless wanderer always on the move be tween Montreal and Mexico? How did he finance 14 months on the run from prison? Where did he find the cash that paid for his 1966 white Mustang? His dancing lessons? A course at a Los Angeles bartenders' academy? How did he pay for his flight from Memphis to Toronto, and thence to Europe? Even Ray wanted to talk about a conspiracy at his trial. But neither the prosecution nor the defense was interested, and Ray was swiftly sidetracked by Judge W. Preston Battle in Memphis. Throughout the 137 anticlimactic minutes, while Battle recorded Ray's submission of guilt, empaneled a jury to hear pro forma evidence of his crime and then passed a sentence, not a single one of the questions that nag the public's curiosity was ever answered.

It was, of course, all perfectly legal. Ray's lawyers, headed by Houston's redoubtable Percy Foreman (see THE LAW), were copping a plea. Foreman could muster no rebuttal of the evidence arrayed against his client. To allow Shelby County Attorney General Phil M. Canale Jr. to lay his case before a jury, Foreman reasoned, would, in effect, consign Ray to Tennessee's electric chair (which has not been used since 1960). Only Ray proved stubborn. Until only a few days before his trial, he still believed he would outwit the executioner.

Many Fingers. Foreman's formidable advocacy eventually convinced his own client. "I never expected or hoped or had an idea," the lawyer confessed, "that I would be able to accomplish anything but save this man's life." To this end, Foreman did his best to scotch talk of a conspiracy, fearing that it would hurt his client's case.

Tennessee's authorities concurred. Memphians, whose nerve ends were already rubbed raw by the murder, were spared the ordeal of a full-dress trial. And although black leaders planned to march through the city on April 4, the anniversary of King's death, there were no strong demands that King's killer should also suffer death. Mrs. Coretta King sent word that, like her murdered husband, she abhorred violence--but insisted nevertheless that "there were many fingers" on the rifle that killed her husband.

Dangerous Statements. In case Ray did have accomplices, both the U.S. Justice Department and black civil rights organizations are keeping their files open as long as there is any prospect of uncovering a conspiracy. It is unlikely that any insiders--if there were any--will remain silent forever. At week's end, for example, the New York Post reported a claim by Negro Merchant John McFerrin that he accidentally overheard a Memphis businessman order King's death on the telephone. "Shoot the son of a bitch on the balcony," the unidentified businessman was reported to have said. McFerrin declared that the man on the other end of the phone was promised payment of $5,000 "from my brother in New Orleans."

TIME learned the same details of the whole complicated story only two weeks after the assassination. Its informant was McFerrin, who had also notified FBI agents and local law-enforcement officials. However, an extensive investigation failed to produce corroborative leads. Besides, there were fears for Mc-Ferrin's safety if there were any premature publication of his allegations. Just how dangerous such statements can be has been underlined by a recent "incident" at one of McFerrin's enterprises in Fayette County, Tenn. Although an FBI investigation and a probe by the Memphis police indicated that McFerrin may well have misunderstood the conversation in Memphis, shots have been fired of late at the windows of his store.

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