“That is what I mean,” said Father Moretto, shaking his head vehemently. “I have not seen him.” Then, after a pause, he went on:
“If you watch the papers, in a few days, you will see that Cocchi has gone insane—but I am not a doctor.” He then went back inside, closed his door, and refused to come out again.
At Maria Cocchi’s next interrogation by Swann, her lawyer told the district attorney how some prison officials at the Harlem jail tried to force her silence about any police friendships with her husband. One of the guards told Maria, according to her attorney, “that if she continued to involve policemen in the Cruger case, she would be killed as soon as she left the prison.”
On June 29, Detective Lagarenne finally appeared before Wallstein. There were many questions as to how he was in Cocchi’s shop the day after Ruth disappeared and did not suspect—or thoroughly search—the very ground he had been walking on. Many of the people in the audience already knew his name; in May 1914, he had been commended for obtaining the arrest and conviction of the great criminal Gregario Giordano, which Wallstein noted in the record. Lagarenne was a hero, which is why he became a detective.
“You suspected Cocchi?” asked Wallstein.
“No,” answered Lagarenne.
“Why did you never have him under surveillance?”
“I can’t recall.”
“Did you talk to the neighbors about his character?”
“No.”
“You weren’t interested in that until he disappeared?” asked Wallstein, with a hint of contempt.
“No.”
“Did you believe Cocchi when you talked with him?”
“I did,” answered Lagarenne.
“You thought she was a voluntary runaway, didn’t you?” asked Wallstein.
“That was my opinion.”
“Well,” said Wallstein. “Your opinion was wrong and absolutely immaterial.”
Wallstein paused, staring the man down. He was clearly not going to give him anything.
“You did not lift that workbench up?” asked Wallstein.
“No.”
“Why didn’t you ask Cocchi to remove the workbench?”
“I don’t know.”
Wallstein then asked if Lagarenne had once been placed on trial for failing to prevent a burglary on his patrol post. Lagarenne admitted that he had.
“Well,” said Wallstein, angrily. “You are excused, and you don’t have to come back.”
That very night, Wallstein sent a letter to Commissioner Woods urging that Lagarenne be brought up on charges of gross negligence. In writing up the charge, Woods noted that Lagarenne “failed and neglected to keep Cocchi under surveillance and didn’t open up easily accessible and locked areas, including drawers and closets.”
The next day, Detective McGee followed his partner on the stand, though telling a somewhat different story. McGee answered every question with a full answer and admitted that he could have done a better search of the cellar. This enormous, sweating man who had helped dig out the cellar with Kron even started to weep. “In sight of God and man,” McGee said, “I did the best I could on that search. I did everything I could.” Wallstein looked at him from across the table. He had seen McGee’s dossier. He had once shot at a fleeing burglar who was running down Broadway. McGee ordered him to halt, but the thief kept on going. McGee stood still and shot him through the neck, then walked slowly up to the wounded criminal with his gun drawn. He found a shaking, bleeding boy.
“Your testimony gives me the impression you are honest,” Wallstein said. That night, he sent Woods a similar request to bring McGee up on charges, but in a more forgiving tone. Wallstein was feeling pressure and wasn’t any closer to the truth. He began extending the hours of his hearings and started to call more and more witnesses. He called Reverend Pattison, who testified that he had baptized Ruth last Easter and that she was a wonderful girl.
Reverend Pattison revealed that when Ruth first went missing, Henry Cruger asked him to accompany the police as his proxy on a mission to chase down a clue. The police were going to visit a midwife’s house somewhere in the Fifties after a tip said that Ruth was there. Reverend Pattison rode there with two detectives. As they approached the house, the slimmer of the pair winked to the reverend that the entire building was given over “to treating girls.” “It was too bad to see a girl like Ruth Cruger in a place like this,” said the other detective. When they found the girl, in the back of the building, the detectives said she was very good-looking. But she wasn’t Ruth Cruger. The reverend told Wallstein that if he wanted “any proof of the good character of Ruth Cruger he could have it from the lips of 600 people, the congregation of the Washington Heights Baptist Church.”
Captain Cooper, the former head of Fourth Branch, was called up again. He seemed to have taken the hint from Lagarenne when Wallstein asked him about the day Ruth was reported missing.
“I can’t recall,” he answered. “I don’t remember.”
Cooper told Wallstein that he sent two motorcycle men that night to Cocchi’s. The cops said they knew Cocchi, so they offered to go fetch him. When he heard this, Wallstein exploded, as much as he could.
“Captain Cooper,” Wallstein demanded, “I want answers. It is inconceivable that a man of your experience and age should remember so little of a very important part of this investigation. I don’t think you want to help me.” Cooper left, his mouth still shut.
When Edward Fish finally walked in to testify, the crowds made it difficult to see. His name had been part of this investigation from very early on, but no one had been able to find him until now. Mrs. Cocchi had accused Fish, a former cop and friend of her husband’s, of breaking into her house while she was in prison. Fish guffawed and told Wallstein that he had been in Bloomington, Illinois, the whole time. He was short of cash and had to write home for railroad fare to come home to New York. That’s why he had been so long in appearing. Once that was out of the way, Fish denied ever seeing Ruth Cruger and denied being a go-between between Cocchi and the cops in the alleged ticket scam. Fish was accompanied by his lawyer.
But, yes, Fish admitted. He was a friend of Cocchi’s.