How Dare You?
by DCDave

If Vince Foster's death
Was a suicide,
How come they're acting
Like there's so much to hide?

The hints of foul play
Are far more than ample,
Of the things that smell wrong
I'll give just a sample.

They said that the family
Wasn't talked to that day,
But the cops at his house
Were not turned away.

They questioned both sisters,
And also the wife,
No one had a clue
Why he'd take his own life.

All spoke from the heart,
With nothing rehearsed,
With no answers planted,
And no one coerced.

That was before,
In a climate of fear,
Peculiar writings
Began to appear.

There was a torn note
That they won't let us see,
And a list of psychiatrists,
First two, then they said three.

That Vince was the writer
Was loudly affirmed,
But without fair assessment,
Not a thing is confirmed.

Likewise for all of that
Unsworn testimony,
For all that we know
The bulk of it's phony.

They think they can closet
This case on a shelf,
The press doesn't think
You can think for yourself.

They would let a physician,
With conscience unsmitten,
Deny what he'd said,
And deny what he'd written.

They'd have us believe,
Like a hapless detective,
That cameras and X-ray
Machines were defective.

They'd let them rifle his desk,
And say, "Nothing to it,"
But what would they say
If you were to do it?

The site where they found him
Lacked the usual mess,
And that was just fine
With our blindfolded press.

The gun was a relic
That couldn't be traced
And the keys to the car
Were strangely displaced.

The head had been moved
Well after the death,
That should make them suspicious
But don't hold your breath.

They'd gladly permit
This big mystery
To become just a part
Of our great history.

You might raise a ruckus,
But would you be heard,
When they'd rather rely
On the President's word?

You know he's so truthful,
And so is his wife,
Wouldn't you trust them
Both with your life?

Or wouldn't the culprit
Have never been found
If Willie had chopped
That cherry tree down?

David Martin