The time had come, she decided, to rid herself of this burden, to take the steps necessary to put the matter to rest once and for all. And the first step, she knew—against every instinct and desire—was to watch that film.
During the reading of her mother’s will, Sheila Baker discovers that she has inherited everything her parents ever possessed, including their secrets. A mysterious safe-deposit box key leads her to the answers to one of history’s greatest conspiracies: Who killed John F. Kennedy? Not only does she have the missing film, revealing her mother as the infamous babushka lady, but she has proof that there was more than one shooter.
On the run from people who would stop at nothing to keep secrets buried, Sheila turns to billionaire sleuth Jason Hammond for help. Having lost his own family in a tragic plane crash, Jason knows a thing or two about running from the past. With a target on their backs and time running out, can Jason finally uncover the truth behind the crime that shook a generation—or will he and Sheila become its final victims?
What if the Zapruder film was not the only footage taken of President Kennedy's assassination in Dallas on 11/22/63? That provocative notion is the best thing about this uneven thriller, which has a powerful beginning. Margaret Baker, having played hooky from her job at a doctor's office to see the president on his fateful visit to Dallas, captures the shooting on her 8 mm movie camera. Traumatized by what she's witnessed, Margaret delays getting her film developed, but when she finally does, she's stunned to see a second shooter. Fearful of the repercussions of her discovery, she leaves the footage in a safe-deposit box, which is opened in the present by her daughter, Sheila. Sheila soon finds herself in the crosshairs of those who want to suppress this proof of a conspiracy, and she must enlist the aid of a young billionaire who uses his fortune to investigate historical mysteries. By the conclusion, Mara (Wave) has dissipated the story's initial energy by resorting to countless genre clich s.