Senior Secret Service agent Mark Ellen, with twenty-five years' service, and over six feet tall an imposing, authoritative figure, was in charge of the motorcade that fateful day.   Sitting in the presidential limo front passenger seat he heard the President cry out at the first shot and he heard two more shots almost together.   Turning around Mark saw the President mortally hit and the gaping bloody head wound.   He shouted code-words into his short-wave radio :  "Exodus !  Exodus !" ;   to the driver “Step on it ;  Drakplan Hospital”.   The first three cars – lead car, presidential limo and follow-up car – with police motorcycle outriders, took off, gathering speed.

        Upheaval in the plaza !   Some cars stopped in the road while others crept forward.   Bystanders, hearing shots, having thrown themselves to the ground, picked themselves up. Screaming, crying ;  police on foot and in cars, shouting, gesticulating !   Pointing to Elroy's perch a man told police he had seen somebody in an upper floor window :  "A man with a rifle !  That’s him !  He’s there !  THERE !".   A motorcycle outrider, identifying the source of the first two shots, threw his cycle to the ground and raced up the steps of Elroy’s building.

        Many films and photographs were taken that day.    Red Urpaz, a family man in his fifties, wanting to preserve the event on film to show his grandchildren, stood on a raised point thirty feet from the presidential limo, his 8-mm cine-camera running at 18 frames per second recording the whole event.   One lady’s black-and-white photo of the follow-up car speeding away showed Greg sitting in back with his rifle pointing in the air.

       Mark continued organising during the 4-minute journey :   "M/C 2 :   race ahead !   Warn them we’re coming ;  ETA three minutes.   M/C 3 :   Lead off :   Emergency entrance :   step on it !".
      The three cars arrived at the hospital.   The President’s wife, wearing white gloves and a pink suit spattered with blood, had cradled her husband’s lifeless body throughout the journey, his breathing spasmodic.   Dazed, distraught, she was reluctant to release him, knowing this was the last time she could hold him – “They have shot his head off !”.
        From Mark - “There's still a chance of recovery, ma'am ;  we need to let the surgeons see him”.   Gently, he was prised from her, placed on a hospital gurney and rushed into Trauma Room One where six surgeons gave emergency treatment.