![](https://content.time.com/time/daily/2009/0908/360_chappaquiddick_car_0828.jpg)
Divers try to raise the car belonging to Senator Edward Kennedy in which he was seriously injured and his passenger Mary Jo Kopechne was killed, at the Chappaquiddick Bridge.
(6 of 8)
Later in the week, Arena told reporters: "You people have been asking a lot of questions about manslaughter and about other driving charges. The only case I have is of leaving the scene of an accident. We have no witness who saw him driving. From my study of the scene, the dirt road, the darkness, the narrow bridge where the car fell, it was an accident, a true accident." Actually, under Massachusetts law, a charge of manslaughter, which requires "willful or wanton" conduct, would have been very unlikely. Even assuming the worst, Kennedy's actions would probably not have met that extreme criterion.
Nonetheless, neither Arena, Dr. Donald Mills, the associate medical examiner, nor Arena's superiors, Prosecutor Steele and District Attorney Edmund Dinis, can brag about their handling of what is probably the most publicized case they will ever be associated with. In keeping with Arena's sketchy investigation, Mills, who pronounced Mary Jo dead, omitted an autopsy. Mills examined the body, but an autopsy would have shown how much Mary Jo had been drinking. Instead, a blood sample, which is much less conclusive, was taken that showed she had drunk a moderate amount. "An autopsy is best in cases like these," said District Attorney Dinis, "because it clears the air and there is no room for speculation." Dinis, however, did not order an autopsy or take over the inquiry from Arena, and both of these steps were in his power.
Why Did Kennedy Wait So Long to Explain?
His own explanation on TV: "Prior to my appearance in court, it would have been improper for me to comment on these matters." Scarcely anything he finally did say, however, could have damaged his legal case. In any event, the damage to his public case and reputation was so shattering that an early accounting was in his overriding interest. For six days the simplest details remained unexplained and were an endless source of speculation. Until Kennedy went before the cameras, a report by a county deputy sheriff, Christopher Look, that he had seen three people in a car headed toward the bridge at 12:40 a.m.—almost an hour and a half after Kennedy had said that he had left the party—was a mine of burning gossip. The three people, of course, were most likely Kennedy, Gargan and Markham.
Was it possible that Kennedy, like Abe Fortas, had such pride of place that he thought he could ignore the buzz and emerge unscathed? Some did not doubt it for a minute. Others at least wondered if there was not, in fact, a peculiar Kennedy hubris.
As the crisis continued, the old Kennedy hands—Robert McNamara, Theodore Sorensen, Richard Goodwin, Kenneth O'Donnell and Burke Marshall, among others—crowded the famous Hyannisport compound, taking every spare bed. Only the house of Jacqueline Onassis, who was away, escaped service as a dormitory. One group of advisers, led by McNamara, strongly urged a full and immediate explanation. Finally, Ted agreed and the speechwriters—Sorensen, J.F.K.'s wordsmith; David Burke, Ted's administrative assistant; and Milton Gwirtzman, a Washington lawyer and Kennedy friend—began their work. By the time their output was broadcast, of course, much of the country was analyzing the case.
Newspapers, for the most part, agreed prior to the television speech that Kennedy had some explaining to do. The usually sympathetic Boston Globe stated editorially: "It is in his own best interest as well as the public's that all the facts should come out." The Cleveland Press, reviewing the questions left unanswered by Ted's police station statement, declared: "The public is entitled to a better explanation than it has had yet." For all its smooth carpentry, the television statement did not dispel most such doubts and questions. The New York Times, which had begun its coverage in a mild and reticent way but gradually stepped it up in intensity, ran an editorial under the headline STILL A TRAGEDY AND A MYSTERY. Said the Times: "His emotion-charged address leaves us less than satisfied with his partial explanations for a gross failure of responsibility, and more than ever convinced that the concerned town, county and state officials of Massachusetts have also failed in their duty thoroughly to investigate this case because of the political personality involved."