He had grown up reading Ian Fleming novels and one day, at the age of twenty-one, looked in the mirror, decided he was everything a Fleming hero should be, and started a campaign to get into the spy game. After fourteen years in bureaucratic burrowing, he finally arrived in one of the intelligence services, but it was much more the kind of squalid and bumbling organization in which Harry Palmer had toiled his cynical days away than it was a berth of Bondage. Nevertheless, 00005 did his best to refurbish and glamorize the scene and, perhaps because God looks after fools, he hadn’t managed to get himself killed in any of the increasingly bizarre missions to which he was assigned. The missions were all weird, at first, because nobody took them seriously–they were all based on wild rumors that had to be checked out just in case there be some truth in them–but later it was realized that 00005’s peculiar schizophrenia was well suited to certain real problems, just as the schizoid of the more withdrawn type is ideal for a “sleeper” agent since he could easily forget what was conventionally considered his real self.
If the backyard photographs are valid, they are highly incriminating of Oswald because they apparently link him with the murder weapon. If they are fakes, how they were produced poses far-reaching questions in the area of conspiracy. “Faked” backyard photographs would indicate a degree of conspiratorial sophistication that would almost necessarily raise the possibility that a highly organized group had conspired to kill the President and make Oswald a “patsy.”
From Volume VI of the House Select Committee On Assassinations