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Chappaquiddick: The Real Story
You know what happened at Chappaquiddick...or do you? The accusations and theories abound: Senator Ted Kennedy killed a woman and covered up the murder; Teddy was the victim of a media smear; a group of licentious married men and lascivious woman attended the party; Mary Jo lingered for hours in the cold dark water; Kennedy was extremely intoxicated; Kennedy was sober, in charge, and deliberately concealed the truth; the medical examiner failed to do his duty; the district attorney was in the pockets of the Kennedy family and the Kennedys bought off the Kopechnes. What you "know" has been influenced by two decades of sloppy reporting, political character assassination, and a profound ignorance of forensic evidence and the law on the part of those attempting to form your opinions. What those biased reporters did not know includes: the physiology of drowning; the laws of Massachusetts regarding traffic, inquests, and autopsies in 1969; the difference between the standard for an autopsy and the standard for an exhumation; the true character of Mary Jo Kopechne; and the construction of a 1967 Oldsmobile. These so-called reporters were also unaware of what the physical evidence at the accident site indicated; what was preoccupying the district attorney; and what exactly Kennedy's friends were trying to hide. In Chappaquiddick: The Real Story, the authors bring a refreshing political neutrality, legal and forensic knowledge, and thorough research into all the evidence and all the theories on this badly abused subject. Their conclusions will surprise you.
286 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 1993
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July 30, 2022
"Just the facts, ma'am," was all that I wrote after finishing this book the first time, on Feb. 27, 2021.
That I have just read it again less than a year and a half after completing it the first time is not an indication that the book itself is forgettable. Instead, it is just another symptom of 2020, a terrible year that bled, unfortunately, into 2021, and then into 2022.
Between the wee hours of Saturday, March 28, 2020, when I finished Sand County Almanac in an E.R. cubicle at Tyler Hospital, reading the final pages aloud to my barely responsive husband, and February 27, 2021, when I added Chappaquiddick: The Real Story, to my (already) read list, a period of eleven months, I only added nine books. I normally read about that many in one month.
I could probably reread those nine books now without any particular recognition, just as I have just reread Chappaquiddick: The Real Story.
I don't think I got much out of it the first time. For one thing, at this reading the authors have managed to convince me that Ted was, indeed, in the car. I don't even remember giving that possibility serious consideration the first time around. I was firmly in the not-in-the-car camp. I could not see how Kennedy could have walked away from a horrific accident, one that combined impact (bad enough), with submersion (unimaginably traumatic), without incurring some injury, physical or psychological. It seems he didn't. I had not, previous to this reading, appreciated the extent of his injuries.
The writers have not, however, convinced me that Gargan and Markham tried to get into the car that night. In fact, they have not convinced me that Gargan and Markham were made aware, by Kennedy himself when he arrived back at the cottage after the accident, of the probability that Mary Jo could be in the car. Due to the bonk on his head, I suspect that Kennedy was not aware of it himself.
But at some point after Kennedy had returned to his hotel in Edgartown (by means of swimming or rowboat or whatever), leaving the rest of the party still on Chappaquiddick, Markham and Gargan may very well have counted noses and thought, "Where the hell's Mary Jo?," and THEN gone to the bridge. Prior to that point, assuming they did not know she might be in the car, they would have had no reason to "dive on" it.
With a car in Poucha Pond, and a missing Mary Jo, I think Markham and Gargan were very worried puppies by the time they parked the party's second car, a rented white Valiant, at the Chappaquiddick ferry landing next morning, and crossed to Edgartown to check in with Kennedy. By then they had to have been pretty sure something awful had happened, something much worse than just a totaled late model Delta 88. They already knew Kennedy had had an accident. They knew his car was in the drink. And now, many hours later, Mary Jo was still nowhere to be found.
Once Markham and Gargan had confronted Kennedy in his hotel room and exchanged notes, all three must have come to the belated conclusion that there was a very strong possibility that Mary Jo was in that car. Markham and Gargan had based their actions of the night before on what Kennedy had told them of what he remembered of the accident, and Kennedy, because he'd been concussed, and probably intoxicated as well, had not remembered much. That he couldn't remember much about the accident or what went before would not have been such a big deal, if one of the things he'd forgotten hadn't been that he hadn't been alone when he and his car went off Dike Bridge.
In the meantime, Kennedy's car and Mary Jo's body had been discovered. Unaware of this, Kennedy, Markham, and Gargan, as foot passengers, took the ferry from Edgartown back to Chappaquiddick. That was when the ferryman's son told them that a girl's body had been recovered from Poucha Pond, and their worst fears were confirmed. Then, at last, Kennedy and Markham made their way to the police station after crossing back to Edgartown.
It was at this point that what the authors refer to as "damage control" was activated. Where the truth would have fit in better, prevarication, obfuscation, and diversion became the order of the day. Add to that exaggeration (consider the "heroism" displayed by a trio of lawyers--Kennedy, Gargan, and Markham--who claimed they dived repeatedly against a dangerous murky current, in the dark, rather than do the logical thing, if circumstances had been as they described, which would have been to call for help). Factor in some highly imaginative fairy tales (Gargan even claimed he managed to get himself into the car in his search for Mary Jo--whom he did not feel or see--briefly becoming trapped, nearly drowning himself in the process).
Those were their stories, and then there were the specifics of Kennedy's departure from the party, supplied by Kennedy's driver, Jack Crimmins. Very specific specifics. Crimmins was not the last person, besides Ted Kennedy, to drive the car. Tretter was. Would Tretter have given the keys back to Crimmins, or would he have just left them in the car? The small lawn had two cars parked on it, the Valiant and the Olds, both quite close to the cottage. Members of the party were milling around, inside the cottage and out. It's an island, tiny and sparsely populated. Why lock the car, or even take the keys out of it? Just asking.
Of everyone remaining at the party after Ted and Mary Jo's departure, only Crimmins could later say when Kennedy left (at 11:15, when Kennedy asked him for the keys), and that Mary Jo went with him (because she was ill). None of the others kept track of anyone else's comings and goings.
Whether they left at 11:15 p.m. or 12:40 a.m. is almost immaterial. That they were headed for the ferry is belied by the fact that Mary Jo left her purse and room key inside the cottage. They, or at least Mary Jo, obviously intended to come back.
Whatever time it was that the pair left the party, the Oldsmobile was still high and dry at 12:45 a.m. when it passed Christopher "Huck" Look and turned onto Dike Road, toward Dike Bridge. If only, oh, if only, Huck had followed them.
That I have just read it again less than a year and a half after completing it the first time is not an indication that the book itself is forgettable. Instead, it is just another symptom of 2020, a terrible year that bled, unfortunately, into 2021, and then into 2022.
Between the wee hours of Saturday, March 28, 2020, when I finished Sand County Almanac in an E.R. cubicle at Tyler Hospital, reading the final pages aloud to my barely responsive husband, and February 27, 2021, when I added Chappaquiddick: The Real Story, to my (already) read list, a period of eleven months, I only added nine books. I normally read about that many in one month.
I could probably reread those nine books now without any particular recognition, just as I have just reread Chappaquiddick: The Real Story.
I don't think I got much out of it the first time. For one thing, at this reading the authors have managed to convince me that Ted was, indeed, in the car. I don't even remember giving that possibility serious consideration the first time around. I was firmly in the not-in-the-car camp. I could not see how Kennedy could have walked away from a horrific accident, one that combined impact (bad enough), with submersion (unimaginably traumatic), without incurring some injury, physical or psychological. It seems he didn't. I had not, previous to this reading, appreciated the extent of his injuries.
The writers have not, however, convinced me that Gargan and Markham tried to get into the car that night. In fact, they have not convinced me that Gargan and Markham were made aware, by Kennedy himself when he arrived back at the cottage after the accident, of the probability that Mary Jo could be in the car. Due to the bonk on his head, I suspect that Kennedy was not aware of it himself.
But at some point after Kennedy had returned to his hotel in Edgartown (by means of swimming or rowboat or whatever), leaving the rest of the party still on Chappaquiddick, Markham and Gargan may very well have counted noses and thought, "Where the hell's Mary Jo?," and THEN gone to the bridge. Prior to that point, assuming they did not know she might be in the car, they would have had no reason to "dive on" it.
With a car in Poucha Pond, and a missing Mary Jo, I think Markham and Gargan were very worried puppies by the time they parked the party's second car, a rented white Valiant, at the Chappaquiddick ferry landing next morning, and crossed to Edgartown to check in with Kennedy. By then they had to have been pretty sure something awful had happened, something much worse than just a totaled late model Delta 88. They already knew Kennedy had had an accident. They knew his car was in the drink. And now, many hours later, Mary Jo was still nowhere to be found.
Once Markham and Gargan had confronted Kennedy in his hotel room and exchanged notes, all three must have come to the belated conclusion that there was a very strong possibility that Mary Jo was in that car. Markham and Gargan had based their actions of the night before on what Kennedy had told them of what he remembered of the accident, and Kennedy, because he'd been concussed, and probably intoxicated as well, had not remembered much. That he couldn't remember much about the accident or what went before would not have been such a big deal, if one of the things he'd forgotten hadn't been that he hadn't been alone when he and his car went off Dike Bridge.
In the meantime, Kennedy's car and Mary Jo's body had been discovered. Unaware of this, Kennedy, Markham, and Gargan, as foot passengers, took the ferry from Edgartown back to Chappaquiddick. That was when the ferryman's son told them that a girl's body had been recovered from Poucha Pond, and their worst fears were confirmed. Then, at last, Kennedy and Markham made their way to the police station after crossing back to Edgartown.
It was at this point that what the authors refer to as "damage control" was activated. Where the truth would have fit in better, prevarication, obfuscation, and diversion became the order of the day. Add to that exaggeration (consider the "heroism" displayed by a trio of lawyers--Kennedy, Gargan, and Markham--who claimed they dived repeatedly against a dangerous murky current, in the dark, rather than do the logical thing, if circumstances had been as they described, which would have been to call for help). Factor in some highly imaginative fairy tales (Gargan even claimed he managed to get himself into the car in his search for Mary Jo--whom he did not feel or see--briefly becoming trapped, nearly drowning himself in the process).
Those were their stories, and then there were the specifics of Kennedy's departure from the party, supplied by Kennedy's driver, Jack Crimmins. Very specific specifics. Crimmins was not the last person, besides Ted Kennedy, to drive the car. Tretter was. Would Tretter have given the keys back to Crimmins, or would he have just left them in the car? The small lawn had two cars parked on it, the Valiant and the Olds, both quite close to the cottage. Members of the party were milling around, inside the cottage and out. It's an island, tiny and sparsely populated. Why lock the car, or even take the keys out of it? Just asking.
Of everyone remaining at the party after Ted and Mary Jo's departure, only Crimmins could later say when Kennedy left (at 11:15, when Kennedy asked him for the keys), and that Mary Jo went with him (because she was ill). None of the others kept track of anyone else's comings and goings.
Whether they left at 11:15 p.m. or 12:40 a.m. is almost immaterial. That they were headed for the ferry is belied by the fact that Mary Jo left her purse and room key inside the cottage. They, or at least Mary Jo, obviously intended to come back.
Whatever time it was that the pair left the party, the Oldsmobile was still high and dry at 12:45 a.m. when it passed Christopher "Huck" Look and turned onto Dike Road, toward Dike Bridge. If only, oh, if only, Huck had followed them.
August 5, 2017
Written in a dry, factual manner, without dramatization or characterization. Just what I sought and expected from this book. Achieved my goal of discerning a clearer grasp of the participants and their roles in the tragic events of that fateful night.
September 18, 2025
I was thirteen years old in July 1969, which I, like everyone else in America, was totally entranced by the Apollo 11 space mission to the moon. I stayed up late at night so I could see Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin become the first men to actually walk on the moon.
As fascinating as this was, news reports kept breaking in about an accident that occurred on Cape Cod, at Chappaquiddick in Massachusetts. Those who managed to stay awake would soon find out that Senator Ted Kennedy had run his 1967 Oldsmobile off the bridge at Chappaquiddick and, thus, drowned a devoted staff member to Senator Robert Kennedy. Her name was Mary Jo Kopechne. First reports were murky. But then there were reports of Kennedy having thrown a bawdy party that seemed to lead up to the accident. Ted Kennedy fled the scene in hopes he could still save his reputation and political career. What exactly happened that night? It all seemed a bit murky.
But the book "Chappaquiddick: The Real Story," by James E.T. Lange and Katherine DeWitt, Jr., gives detailed information about what happened that night and how Senator Kennedy would be questioned and implicated for fleeing the scene of this tragedy. This book is deeply researched book and full of intriguing facts.
As fascinating as this was, news reports kept breaking in about an accident that occurred on Cape Cod, at Chappaquiddick in Massachusetts. Those who managed to stay awake would soon find out that Senator Ted Kennedy had run his 1967 Oldsmobile off the bridge at Chappaquiddick and, thus, drowned a devoted staff member to Senator Robert Kennedy. Her name was Mary Jo Kopechne. First reports were murky. But then there were reports of Kennedy having thrown a bawdy party that seemed to lead up to the accident. Ted Kennedy fled the scene in hopes he could still save his reputation and political career. What exactly happened that night? It all seemed a bit murky.
But the book "Chappaquiddick: The Real Story," by James E.T. Lange and Katherine DeWitt, Jr., gives detailed information about what happened that night and how Senator Kennedy would be questioned and implicated for fleeing the scene of this tragedy. This book is deeply researched book and full of intriguing facts.
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