On arriving in Panama City, he hears of the president’s death and the murderer Booth, but many men are named Booth; he thinks little of it. At the next stop, Aspinwall, he hears the name John Wilkes. By then he’s had more time to think. By the time he hears, he feels he already knew.

From the transcript of his later interrogation:

Q: Have you ever been insane, Mr. Booth?

A: Yes, sir.

Q: For how long a time?

A: For several months. I was insane in Panama.

Q: On your return?

A: Yes, sir. That news made me insane.

—

Mother and Rosalie are in New York. For more than a week, bells have been ringing, horns blowing in the giddy city, and the celebratory noise is only now starting to subside. The war is over. All the boys are home or coming home. Mother says that Ann Hall will be united with her lost children at last. All of them free now! If only Joe Hall had lived to see it. She says that all any mother wants is to be with her children. They make plans for a visit to Tudor Hall.

The doorbell rings and the Aldriches are on the doorstep. Thomas Aldrich is an editor and writer, a man of sincerity and compassion. Rosalie has never liked his wife, an opinion shared by Mark Twain, who called her a dithering blatherskite and worse. “Lord, I loathe that woman,” Mark Twain says.

The Aldriches are friends of Edwin’s. “Edwin’s in Boston,” Rosalie tells them. She’s surprised they wouldn’t know that.

Mrs. Aldrich seizes Rosalie’s hands so tightly that her rings dig into Rosalie’s flesh. “We’re here for your poor mother,” she says. Through the open door, Rosalie hears the newsboy calling. “The President’s Death! The President Foully Murdered! The President’s Death!”

A moment of shock. “The president is dead?” she asks.

“Oh my dear,” Mrs. Aldrich says, still clutching her hands though Rosalie has tried to extricate them.

At least John will be happy, Rosalie thinks. She’ll remember always how that was her first thought just before she heard the newsboy call, “John Wilkes Booth arrested.”

She looks at Mrs. Aldrich, who has taken the time this morning before coming to the house to pin her best hat onto her head, powder her cheeks, and arrange the curls about her face. “Oh my dear,” Mrs. Aldrich says.

Mother has heard the cries from the street. She joins them at the door, white and faint. Mr. Aldrich steps forward to lend his arm, help her to the couch. Rosalie hasn’t seen the face Mother is wearing since Henry died. All those years ago, and yet she recognizes it immediately. Unspeakable sorrow mixed with madness. She always knew she’d see it again. “Mother, it’s a mistake,” Rosalie says. “You know John. He would never do this to you.”