“What must be put clearly before the American public and its authorities,” the judge said, “is that so long as the investigation lasts absolutely no one can have official information regarding the developments in the case, nor be allowed to communicate directly or indirectly with the prisoner. This prohibition extends even to the members of his family. His old father, whom I understand is heartbroken for what is occurring, cannot visit him, and his wife, if she were here, would not be allowed to see him.
“I can foresee that it will last several months,” Zucconi said, confirming the Americans’ fears. “In fact, while awaiting with keen interest the American newspapers containing the descriptions of how the body was found, we cannot conduct the examinations on such unofficial reports, but must receive the official, legal evidence from the American authorities. This means a long delay.” The judge had closed the door, for the most part, on any American involvement. Cocchi would be tried as a son of Italy.
*
On July 10, Zucconi once again made his way into Cocchi’s small cell. This was his eighth visit in more or less as many days. He was carrying something in his hand. Zucconi had tried to eliminate distractions because he still had work to do. Though Zucconi had refused to share information with officials in New York, they had certainly shared it with him. Cocchi had been able to smuggle out a note to a relative that read, “Get them to leave me alone and not try to make me talk. I am suffering too much. I am ready to serve my sentence in prison, but wish to do so in Italy, my beloved country. I do not wish to die in a foreign land in the dreadful electric chair.”
Zucconi had just gotten the official physician’s report from New York City. He and his clerk were let into Cocchi’s cell again. The judge began reading some of the grisly details.
Compound fracture of skull.
Wound on left side of abdomen severing descending colon.
Left ureter & small intestine.
On the report, Dr. Benjamin Schwartz, the coroner’s physician, ended his summary with a single word:
Homicidal.
Cocchi looked trapped and anxious. Zucconi told him that, according to the report, Ruth’s watch had stopped at 2:10 P.M.
The silence that followed in the cell felt like a stop as well.
“I was in terror,” Cocchi said, quietly. The judge stared.
“I hit her with my fist and cried: ‘You promise to keep quiet!’ She clawed at me with her hands and screamed again. Then I struck her and she fell, still fighting, to her knees.”
The judge nodded as the clerk began to write.
“She got up,” continued Cocchi, almost oblivious to their presence. “I jammed my fist against her mouth. I tore her clothes. She was so strong and resisted so much I could not rip her dress from her. She screamed.
“I was scared. I struck her again and threw her to the floor. Her head struck the floor. She was dazed, but not unconscious. I grabbed a wrench and hit her. Dazed as she was, she kept fighting. I feared every minute that someone would rush in. I dragged her to the hole in the floor (a heat register) and threw her into the basement.”
The cell was quiet. Cocchi continued, his eyes on fire.
“Her head struck the concrete and she was still. I jumped down after her. She still tried to struggle. I grabbed a round stick of wood in my right hand and struck her over the head. She moaned and rose to her knees. Three times I struck her. She moaned again and sank to the floor.”
He continued. “The blood was coming. I put on a pair of rubber gloves to keep the blood from my hands. I dragged her to the coal hole with a rope around her body. She was still warm.”
He added, “It was not difficult.”
The judge stared at him. He knew Cocchi was not finished.
“Then I attacked her,” said Cocchi.
There was more silence in the stone cell.
“Afterwards, I dragged her to the coal hole and pushed her in head first and doubled her body up. I covered her with a box. I left things that way until after the police came the next day. The body was in the coal hole covered with a box, but they didn’t see it.
“They didn’t see it,” Cocchi repeated.
Alfredo Cocchi’s final thousand-word sworn confession revealed that Ruth Cruger’s body was barely hidden only a few inches from where the detectives were standing when they first came to investigate. Policemen questioned the ease by which Ruth and Cocchi could have passed down the air flue, hinting that Cocchi might have removed part of it ahead of time to make the opening bigger. They also noticed that nowhere in Cocchi’s confession was there anything about digging the hole, making detectives wonder if he had done it beforehand.
As he left the prison cell for the last time, the judge was satisfied that there was enough for a trial. He looked at Cocchi and finally saw the monster he always knew was there.
*
Swann felt that everyone in New York—every man, woman, and child who could read a story in a paper or hear it on a stoop or windowsill—wanted Cocchi to burn in the black chair at Sing Sing. Even in the absence of proof, they wanted blood. But Swann knew the reality of the moment. The Petrosino case seemed to show how little the Italian police cared about working with the Americans. To make matters worse, the war was dividing nations. At least Swann could take solace in the fact that Alfredo Cocchi was no longer surrounded by thin bicycles but by solid iron bars.
Edward Swann had inherited the Wallstein case, but he had been working on it himself for months. He appointed James W. Osborne to take full charge of the investigation of the police. “I will go wherever the trail leads,” said the special prosecutor. As the investigation pressed on, it became clear that the phrase “go see Cocchi” was commonplace advice given to people who wanted to “fix” their tickets. For a small fee, a ticket could disappear as easily as a swipe of the eraser. Cocchi and the police, it seemed, had first developed a relationship over their machines that had grown to include other mutual activities.
Stories began to surface that Cocchi had run a betting book on the horse races right out of his garage. The results of the New York, southern, and Canadian tracks were received by telephone at Cocchi’s. One witness told Swann of a cop who placed a 20-to-1, five-dollar bet with Cocchi and was now owed a hundred dollars. Swann told him to tell the officer not to hold his breath. Another witness said that, although Cocchi kept the book, he was not the principal person. “He had a man of means as his backer,” the witness said. A manager of prizefighters was rumored to have bankrolled the operation. Some thought it could be the Camorra itself. Swann was now asking jurors to sit an extra hour each day.