The JFK Files: Wasted Money, Real Harm, and No Truth!

We didn't learn much from the data dump, but a lot of people could be hurt.

By Brian O’Neill

The secret documents are here!

Indiana Jones has breached the firewall, Tom Cruise has been lowered into the dark abyss beneath Langley, and Nicolas Cage has emerged from the secret tunnel that ends at a hidden door beneath the Resolute Desk—clutching the final truth of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, which is . . .

Oswald did it.

That’s right—there is no document labeled “CIA Plot to Kill Kennedy—Do Not Open Until 2025.” If there had been, it wouldn’t have been collecting dust in a National Archives file room. It would have mysteriously vanished years—if not decades—ago, somewhere between a routine “reorganization” and someone being told to move a few boxes from a Mar-a-Lago bathroom.

But, thanks to director Oliver Stone, an entire generation became convinced the government was hoarding the one document that would finally crack the case—because nothing says “airtight cover-up” like leaving behind a neatly labeled paper trail.

Now, after 30 years of anticipation, the last of the JFK assassination files has been released with no redactions. And what did they reveal? No grand conspiracy, no second gunman, no last-minute twist where Jackie Kennedy pulls the trigger. Just a few more details from unrelated intelligence documents that were redacted to protect sources, not to cover up a coup.

The United States spent tens of millions of taxpayer dollars confirming that a 1991 movie was, in fact, a movie.

Yes. That’s how this all started.

In the early 1990s, Oliver Stone’s “JFK” convinced a generation that the U.S. government was hiding the truth about the assassination, complete with a sinister cabal and a magic bullet. Public outcry followed, Congress panicked, and, in 1992, lawmakers did what they do best: passed the JFK Assassination Records Collection Act, a bill mandating the release of nearly every government document related to the case.

Never mind that the Warren Commission, the House Select Committee on Assassinations, and decades of independent reviews had already concluded the same thing: Oswald shot Kennedy.

But Hollywood said otherwise, and here we are.

The question most often asked throughout the years: If there was no conspiracy, why did the government not just release these documents? Why keep them secret?

First, most of the documents requested by the Assassination Records Review Board, set up to oversee the declassification process from 1994 to 1998, had little or nothing to do with the assassination itself. The board opted to cast a wide net to ensure nothing would be missed. But, because Congress mandated the release of documents related to the board’s investigation, thousands of documents became part of the investigation—regardless of relevance.

Next, all the documents had been released a few years ago. What remained were redactions—limited portions of documents shielding sources, methods, and private information, not the identity of the alleged gunman on the grassy knoll.

Intelligence agencies don’t withhold information because they’re hiding an elaborate conspiracy; they do it because protecting assets, operations, and partnerships still matters—even decades later. In the case of the JFK redactions:

• Some shielded Cold War-era informants whose families might still be at risk.

• Some concealed surveillance techniques that, though old, remain in use.

• Some protected foreign partnerships—because nothing ruins diplomacy like confirming a friendly government once helped the United States spy on its own people.

But, beyond intelligence concerns, some of the redactions weren’t about covert operations at all—they were about protecting personal privacy. Previous administrations, regardless of party, understood that declassifying historical records shouldn’t mean exposing individuals to modern threats. And yet:

• The information revealed this week included more than 400 Social Security numbers, birthplaces, and personal details of former intelligence and congressional staffers—people with no direct connection to JFK’s assassination.

• Many of those exposed held sensitive government positions long after the 1970s, making them potential targets for identity theft, fraud, or worse.

• Others have already had to freeze their bank accounts and credit cards after learning their information was now public.

Trump in his first term was told this information was part of the redactions. And he allowed these redactions to stand. Trump, in his second term, doesn’t care any more—in his words redacting this information “is not consistent with the public interest.” House GOP Oversight Chairman James Comer (R-Ky.) described it as “critical information to the American people.”

The redactions weren’t about protecting some long-buried secret about who fired the shots in Dealey Plaza. It was about basic security and professionalism—recklessly discarded by an administration more concerned with political theater than consequences.

If this unconscionable decision weren’t enough, consider this: Congress spent millions on a 30-year paper chase just to confirm that Kevin Costner is not a credible source on national security. The Assassination Records Review Board alone cost taxpayers close to $6 million—for context: the film “JFK” had an estimated production budget of $40 million.

I expect the total cost of this endeavor will be revealed soon—an estimate that will need to factor in the tens of thousands of hours government employees spent since the mid-1990s collecting and reviewing documents, then archiving them, then re-reviewing—most of which had a Kevin Bacon six-degrees-of-separation link to Cuba, Mexico City, or—frankly—anyone who had ever eaten at a diner in Dallas in the 1950s or 1960s.

Given the financial investment into the effort, this director’s cut is overpriced and overhyped.

The JFK Records Act didn’t expose a cover-up—it exposed the power of a well-crafted Hollywood thriller.

A movie convinced Congress that Americans would never trust their government unless every single data point was released. And where’s the big revelation? Where’s the second shooter? Where’s the proof of a deep-state conspiracy?

It doesn’t exist.

It never did.

Just like Loch Ness, Bigfoot, and DOGE’s skills in mathematics.

And yet, Trump and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard have expressed pride in the outcome. Proud of a reckless data dump that exposed private citizens for no reason. Proud of a declassification that confirmed nothing new. Proud of a spectacle that did more harm than good.

And what did we gain? As David Ferrie—Joe Pesci’s character in “JFK”—said, paraphrasing Winston Churchill: “It’s a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma.”

Brian O’Neill, a retired senior executive from the CIA and National Counterterrorism Center, is an instructor on strategic intelligence at Georgia Tech.

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