The Wink: A Moment That Changed History

Prologue: A Cabin Full of Shadows

At 2:38 p.m. Central Standard Time on November 22nd, 1963, in the cramped conference room of Air Force One, history changed. Lyndon Baines Johnson, flanked by his wife Lady Bird and the shattered Jacqueline Kennedy, raised his right hand. His left rested on a Catholic missal, mistaken for a Bible, found in President Kennedy’s bedroom. The air was thick—no air conditioning, four jet engines warming up outside, twenty-seven people squeezed into a twelve-by-five-foot stateroom. Sweat beaded on foreheads, grief and shock radiated from every face.

Federal Judge Sarah Hughes, the first woman ever to administer the presidential oath, read the words slowly. Johnson repeated them, his voice steady: “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

White House photographer Cecil Stoughton stood on a leather couch, camera raised, capturing the moment frame after frame—nineteen photographs in total, each one a slice of history, each one a study in grief, tension, and transition.

But it was what happened seconds after the oath that would haunt generations. Johnson, just sworn in, turned around and smiled—a wide, genuine smile. In the background, Congressman Albert Thomas, Johnson’s longtime friend, winked back. That single photograph, hidden among the official sequence, would become one of the most disturbing and debated images in American history.

Chapter 1: The Official Story

The photograph most Americans know is carefully staged. Johnson, center frame, right hand raised, solemn expression. Jackie Kennedy, her pink Chanel suit stained with her husband’s blood, stands to his left, grief-stricken and silent. Lady Bird Johnson is to his right, composed. Judge Hughes stands before them, administering the oath. Around them, somber faces—officials, aides, Secret Service agents—form a tableau of tragedy and continuity.

This image was published everywhere: newspapers, magazines, history books. It was democracy prevailing, the peaceful transfer of power. Johnson insisted Jackie stand beside him, historians say, to show continuity, to reassure the nation that this was not a coup. Jackie didn’t want to be there. She was in shock, traumatized, refusing to change out of her blood-soaked clothes. “Let them see what they’ve done,” she said.

Cecil Stoughton choreographed the scene like a theater director. He positioned Jackie away from the camera so the blood stains wouldn’t show. Johnson cooperated, determined to project legitimacy. But beneath the surface, tension simmered.

Chapter 2: The Unscripted Moment

After the oath, as the official poses ended, Johnson turned. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled—not a polite or nervous smile, but the smile of a man who had just won something, who had just achieved exactly what he wanted. In the background, Albert Thomas smiled back and winked—a knowing, almost conspiratorial expression.

When this photograph first appeared in David Lifton’s 1980 book, Best Evidence, it shocked researchers. This was not grief, not solemnity, not the appropriate response to a national tragedy. It was celebration. It was victory. Two men sharing a moment of triumph in the shadow of assassination.

Chapter 3: Who Was Albert Thomas?

Albert Richard Thomas was born April 12, 1898, in Nacogdoches, Texas. A Rice Institute graduate, University of Texas Law School alumnus, district attorney, and U.S. Congressman since 1937. For twenty-six years, he served in the House of Representatives, eventually chairing the House Defense Appropriations Committee and serving on the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy.

Thomas was a member of the “Suite 8F Group,” the most powerful political machine in Texas. Named after a suite in the Lamar Hotel in Houston, the group included oil billionaires, defense contractors, and politicians—men like George Brown of Brown & Root, oilman Hugh Roy Cullen, banker Gus Wortham, and their political operatives Lyndon Johnson and Albert Thomas.

These men controlled Texas. They controlled federal contracts, defense spending, and NASA facilities. It was Thomas who secured the location of NASA’s manned spacecraft center in Houston, later renamed the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. He convinced Rice University to donate land, pushed through appropriations, and made Houston the center of America’s space program.

In 1961, as JFK confronted Israel over nuclear weapons, Thomas was on the joint committee overseeing America’s nuclear program. He knew about uranium shipments, nuclear secrets, and said nothing. Thomas was Johnson’s closest ally in Congress. When Johnson was Senate Majority Leader, Thomas was his counterpart in the House. They spoke constantly, coordinated strategies, and operated as a team.

On November 21, 1963, Thomas accompanied Kennedy and Johnson to Texas. He was in the motorcade in Dallas. He witnessed the assassination, rode to Parkland Hospital, and boarded Air Force One with Johnson, present in that crowded conference room when Johnson took the oath.

Chapter 4: The Wink—Relief or Conspiracy?

Why did Albert Thomas wink at Lyndon Johnson seconds after Johnson became president? Researchers have debated this for decades. The official explanation: it was nothing—a moment of relief, a reassuring gesture between old friends. Thomas was telling Johnson, “You’ve got this. Everything will be okay.” Inappropriate, perhaps, given the circumstances, but understandable.

But the conspiracy explanation is darker. The wink was a signal, a confirmation: “We did it. You’re president now.” A moment of shared knowledge, a conspiratorial acknowledgment between two men who knew the truth—that Kennedy’s assassination wasn’t random, wasn’t the act of a lone gunman, but was planned, executed, and successful.

Johnson, turning around and smiling, not at his wife, not at Jackie Kennedy, not at Judge Hughes, but at Albert Thomas, was celebrating. “Yes, we did,” the smile seemed to say.

Chapter 5: Lady Bird’s Smile

Multiple photographs from that day show Lady Bird Johnson smiling—not the polite, composed smile of a woman maintaining dignity during tragedy, but genuine, happy expressions. In one frame taken moments before the oath, Lady Bird is beaming, radiant, as if this is the happiest day of her life.

After years as second lady, a role she disliked, Lady Bird was ascending to the position of First Lady. But how could someone smile at such a moment? How could someone look happy when the president has just been murdered, when his widow stands nearby covered in blood—unless she knew it was coming, unless she expected it, unless this was the plan all along?

Chapter 6: Johnson’s Calm

Johnson himself, in the moments before the oath, was calm, composed, almost business-like. He gave orders, made phone calls, coordinated the transition. He behaved like a man who had been preparing for this moment.

According to conspiracy researchers, Johnson knew Kennedy was planning to drop him from the 1964 ticket. Johnson knew the Bobby Baker scandal was about to destroy him. Life magazine was preparing an expose that could send him to prison. Johnson knew he had weeks, maybe days, before everything collapsed.

Then Kennedy was shot and everything changed. The scandals disappeared. The investigations stopped. The expose was canceled. Johnson became president. The timing was perfect—too perfect.

So when Johnson turned around and smiled at Albert Thomas, was he smiling in relief, or was he smiling in triumph?

Chapter 7: The Delay

The oath wasn’t immediate. There was a significant delay. Kennedy was pronounced dead at Parkland Hospital at 1:00 p.m. Johnson left the hospital at 1:20 p.m., arrived at Air Force One at 1:33 p.m., but didn’t take off. He waited for over an hour. Air Force One sat on the runway at Love Field while Johnson made calls, gave orders, and coordinated the oath.

Why the delay? The official explanation: Johnson wanted Judge Sarah Hughes to administer the oath. He insisted on waiting for her arrival, wanting a proper swearing-in with witnesses and a photographer. He wanted it done legally and properly.

But there’s another explanation: Johnson was waiting for Jackie Kennedy. He needed her presence to legitimize his presidency. Jackie didn’t want to leave Parkland Hospital. She was with her husband’s body, refusing to leave him. Under pressure, she agreed to go to Air Force One, insisting Kennedy’s body come with her. Only then did Johnson proceed with the oath, insisting Jackie stand beside him.

Chapter 8: The Flight

The oath took 28 seconds. At 2:38 p.m., Lyndon Johnson became president. Three minutes later, at 2:41 p.m., Air Force One took off for Washington. Johnson’s first order as president: get airborne, get out of Dallas, get away from the crime scene fast.

During the flight, witnesses reported another disturbing moment. Johnson went into the presidential bedroom—Kennedy’s bedroom—and sprawled on the bed. He smoked a cigar and laughed hysterically. Not nervous laughter, not shock, but the laughter of a man who had just won the lottery, who had just pulled off the impossible.

Jackie Kennedy remained at the back of the plane, sitting next to her husband’s casket, numb and destroyed, while Johnson laughed in the bedroom.

Chapter 9: The Missing Negative

There’s something else strange about the wink photograph. The original negative is missing. In 1995, researcher Richard Trask wrote Pictures of the Pain, a comprehensive book about the photography of Kennedy’s assassination. Trask interviewed Cecil Stoughton extensively, examined the contact sheets from Air Force One, and analyzed every frame Stoughton shot that day.

Trask discovered something troubling: all of Stoughton’s negatives from the swearing-in ceremony exist, except one. The negative for the wink photograph is missing. The photograph exists only as a copy negative—a reproduction, not the original.

Why? Where did the original negative go? Who removed it, and why? Trask provides no explanation. He reproduces the photograph from a copy negative and moves on as if the missing negative means nothing. But it means something. Someone didn’t want that original negative to exist. Someone removed it from the archives, ensuring the highest quality version of the wink could never be analyzed, never be proven authentic or inauthentic.

Chapter 10: Real or Fabricated?

Is the wink photograph real, or was it fabricated? Some researchers claim the photograph is fake. They point to technical inconsistencies: the lighting doesn’t match other frames, the contrast is too high, the grain structure is different. Albert Thomas appears slightly out of focus, as if his image was added later.

Other experts disagree. They say the photograph is authentic. The lighting differences are explained by Stoughton switching cameras mid-ceremony. He started with a Hasselblad, then switched to a Contax. The high contrast is due to the lack of flash—Stoughton shot with available light because the plane was being powered up and the external power had been disconnected. The out-of-focus Thomas is explained by movement—he was winking, which would cause slight blur.

In 2017, a blogger analyzed the photographs extensively. His conclusion: the photograph is real, but the wink was captured accidentally. Stoughton had put his first camera down, thinking he was done shooting. Then he grabbed his second camera and fired off one more frame. In that frame, he caught Thomas winking—something Thomas thought no one would see because the photographer had put his camera down.

That explanation makes the photograph even more sinister. If Thomas thought no one was watching, the wink becomes more genuine, more revealing—an unguarded moment of celebration.

Chapter 11: Sinister Shadows

Stoughton himself described the photograph as “sinister.” Not inappropriate, not awkward—sinister. Why would Kennedy’s official photographer, the man who documented JFK’s presidency with reverence and respect, describe a photograph of the presidential oath as sinister?

Because he saw something in that moment that disturbed him—something wrong, something that shouldn’t have been there. A smile where there should have been grief, a wink where there should have been solemnity, a moment of shared triumph when the nation was in mourning.

Albert Thomas died on February 15, 1966, less than two and a half years after Kennedy’s assassination. He never commented publicly on the wink photograph, never explained it, never addressed the theories. He died before most conspiracy theories had been invented, before the photograph became famous.

His widow, Lera Thomas, was elected to complete his term, becoming the first woman to represent Texas in Congress. The Albert Thomas Convention Center in Houston was named in his honor. The photograph remained filed away in the archives, largely ignored until David Lifton published it in Best Evidence in 1980. Suddenly, researchers couldn’t stop talking about it.

Chapter 12: Theories and Interpretations

The wink captured something undeniable—inappropriate behavior. Two men smiling and winking at each other seconds after the president of the United States was sworn in following an assassination, in the presence of the murdered president’s widow, still covered in his blood.

No matter how you interpret it—relief, reassurance, conspiracy, celebration—it’s wrong. It’s disturbing. And it raises the same question people have asked for sixty-one years: What did Lyndon Johnson and Albert Thomas know? And when did they know it?

Let’s consider the possibilities.

Possibility One: The wink meant nothing. It was an inappropriate moment between old friends. Thomas was trying to reassure Johnson in a stressful situation. Johnson smiled back out of politeness. Nothing more—a human moment captured on film and misinterpreted for decades.

But that explanation doesn’t account for the genuine, wide smiles—expressions of happiness on both their faces seconds after a presidential assassination, in front of a widow.

Possibility Two: The wink was a signal of relief. Thomas was telling Johnson, “You made it. You survived. You’re safe now.” There were fears this was a larger conspiracy, that Johnson might be next. Thomas was reassuring him that the danger had passed.

But if that was the concern, why was Johnson so calm? Why did he insist on waiting for Judge Hughes? Why did he choreograph the photograph? Why did he demand Jackie Kennedy stand beside him? A man fearing for his life doesn’t delay takeoff for an hour, doesn’t pose for photographs, doesn’t stage the moment.

Possibility Three: The wink was a conspiracy signal. Thomas was confirming the success of the plot. Johnson was acknowledging it. They shared a moment of triumph because they had just pulled off the assassination of a sitting president. Johnson, who had everything to gain from Kennedy’s death, was celebrating his victory.

This explanation sounds insane—until you look at everything we know: the timing, the motives, the scandals that disappeared, the investigations that stopped, the exposes that were canceled, E. Howard Hunt’s deathbed confession naming LBJ, fingerprints in the sniper’s nest, CIA operatives in Dallas, mafia connections, anti-Castro militants who hated Kennedy. All of it pointing to conspiracy, all of it pointing to Johnson. And then you see the wink.

Chapter 13: The Performance and the Pose

In the official photograph, Johnson looks solemn, appropriate, presidential—the weight of the moment captured on his face. But that was the pose, the performance, the image carefully staged for public consumption.

The wink captured what came after. When Johnson thought the performance was over, when he turned around, let his guard down for just a second, and smiled at his friend who winked back—that’s the photograph that haunts researchers. That’s the image that won’t go away. That’s the moment that suggests everything we’ve been told about November 22nd, 1963, is a lie.

Because grief doesn’t smile. Trauma doesn’t wink. Tragedy doesn’t celebrate. But conspiracy does. Victory does. Success does.

Chapter 14: The Haunting Question

On Air Force One, November 22nd, 1963, in the seconds after Lyndon Johnson became president, someone captured a moment that shouldn’t exist—a smile, a wink, a celebration.

The question isn’t whether the photograph is real. The question is: what does it mean? After sixty-one years, we still don’t have an answer. We have theories, interpretations, arguments—but we don’t have proof.

What we have is a photograph: two men smiling, a dead president’s widow standing right there, and the uncomfortable truth that something about that moment is deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Epilogue: History’s Echo

History doesn’t repeat, but it echoes. The photograph exists. The wink is real. And somewhere in that smile, in that moment of celebration on a day of national tragedy, lies a truth we’re not supposed to know.

Air Force One, November 22nd, 1963.
2:38 p.m. A new president sworn in. A murdered president’s widow standing nearby. Two men smiling at each other, winking, celebrating.

The wink. The smile. The moment that changes everything.
The question isn’t what we saw.
The question is, what did they know?