Though not mentioned in this particular article, the police had in fact set up a special telephone tip line (Virginia 9-6040) at the 102nd precinct during the investigation of Kitty’s murder. The number had been published in the Long Island Star-Journal, inviting anyone with even a slim clue to call, stating that callers did not need to identify themselves and that all information would be kept strictly confidential.
In her Journal-American story, Joyce Brothers touched on other fear of involvement factors aside from the extreme example illustrated by the Schuster case, citing a few real-life tales of no-good-deed-goes-unpunished. She also brought up other recent incidents of New Yorkers failing to respond in situations where one or more of their fellow citizens was in dire need of emergency assistance (a building fire in Harlem where none of the onlookers pulled an alarm, an elderly man beaten to death on a subway in Manhattan as bystanders looked away). Brothers had less interest in analyzing the reasons why people don’t help than she did in shining a spotlight on what she viewed as a common and widespread problem. Her article served much more as a call to action than an exercise in assigning blame. She did write, however, of the challenges inherent for those who lived in large cities to maintain human sensitivity and a sense of personal connection with others. “The rapidly shifting throng may come to seem nameless, or even faceless.” She concluded with a warning: “Recent events show that deaf-earism in New York City has reached proportions where it must be viewed as an illness. Terror will soon stalk all our streets unless the 98 percent of citizens who are law-abiding but paralytically passive come to grips with the following three facts of human existence.” She wrote of the need for principles and decency; the need to take chances in defense of these principles; and the fact that no positive action will ever meet with universal approval. She gave her final thought on the Schuster case. “We feel so sorry for Arnold Schuster. Perhaps a little less pity and a lot more admiration is called for.
“At Eastertime, and every time, we should remember with gratitude those who have given their lives for their ideals and principles. Isn’t that one of the things that Easter (and Passover as well) is all about?”
SIDNEY SPARROW HAD spent the days before Easter meeting with his new client. He went to Kings County Hospital and spoke at length with Winston Moseley. After hearing all that he had to say, Sparrow felt even more convinced that his client was probably crazy—but very truthful. Well aware of the indictment against Alvin Mitchell for the murder of Barbara Kralik—and now gravely concerned—Sidney Sparrow spoke with the district attorney.
Frank O’Connor had already told the press that he was “skeptical about most of Moseley’s admissions, except in the case of Miss Genovese.” He had further said, “We are convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that Moseley is implicated in the killing of the Genovese girl. As far as Mrs. Johnson and the Kralik girl are concerned he has made no formal confessions but he has made statements that he is implicated in one or the other, or both.” Inspector Frederick Lussen insisted that the police already had the right man—Alvin Mitchell—in the Barbara Kralik homicide, calling the case against Mitchell “airtight.”
At least peripherally involved now in all three cases, Sidney Sparrow was not so sure.
On Monday, March 30, Assistant DA Phillip Chetta and John Furey, assistant medical examiner in Queens, traveled to Moncks Corner, South Carolina, where Annie Mae Johnson had been interred. Sidney Sparrow accompanied them.
The medical examiner in South Carolina had been contacted prior to their arrival, informed of the circumstances and the need for immediate action. He obliged, greeting his New York guests with his hand outstretched not for a cordial shake, but to show them a spent .22 caliber bullet he had extracted from the body of Annie Mae Johnson.
There were six in total. Six bullets from a .22 in the victim’s body. Four entrance wounds in the back, two in the abdomen.
The first autopsy on Annie Mae Johnson had indeed been flawed. The Queens ME had mistaken the small bullet holes for ice pick wounds. There could be no doubt of this, with the South Carolina coroner showing them both the X-rays and the spent bullets (also showing, in the opinion of the New York assistant district attorney, a bit of snarky one-upmanship). Professional rivalries aside, the overriding issue was clear: Winston Moseley had been right. And there could be little doubt of how he, and he alone, had known the truth.
It was difficult to say who was more shaken by the news—Phillip Chetta, or Assistant Medical Examiner John Furey. Both had very troubling news to report to their superiors. Chetta phoned Bernard Patten, who broke the news to Frank O’Connor.
O’Connor was not a man prone to losing his temper, but he made an exception now. He would move to dismiss the indictment against Alvin Mitchell, he said. And he had a few things to say to the police who had investigated the Kralik homicide. Bernard Patten urged him not to be hasty. The D.A.’s office had investigated the Kralik case as well. They would look into it even further now, of course, but the indictment against Mitchell had been based on more than just a confession. The case and evidence should be—would be—thoroughly reviewed again by both the District Attorney’s Office and the police. After that, if they were not convinced of Mitchell’s guilt, they could move for dismissal of the charges.
O’Connor agreed. He expected a meticulous re-examination of the case against Mitchell. If he had doubts, his office would not prosecute. O’Connor had in the past recommended that the grand jury throw out robbery cases where the evidence seemed shaky. He would certainly do the same in a murder case if he thought it appropriate. In the meantime, he needed to have a few words with the office of the New York medical examiner.
“SLUGS FOUND IN BODY OF ‘STABBING’ VICTIM” read a headline in the New York World-Telegram and Sun on Tuesday, March 31. The article told of the statement by the Queens District Attorney’s Office that a second autopsy on Annie Mae Johnson had proved she had been shot rather than stabbed. DA Frank O’Connor was said to be “annoyed” over the original autopsy report. He had asked the city’s chief medical examiner, Milton Helpern, to come to his office for a conference. Helpern in the meantime had asked Assistant Medical Examiner John Furey to come to his office for a “review” of the case.
Milton Helpern was quoted as saying, “An autopsy is supposed to go all the way to the answers. We have X-ray equipment in New York. If they were in doubt they could have brought the body to Manhattan for closer study.” Dr. Helpern also announced a new policy: autopsies on all suspicious deaths in Queens and the other boroughs would henceforth be done in Manhattan under his direction.
O’Connor conceded that “the findings of the autopsy add credibility to all the statements made by Moseley.”
All of the various news articles on this latest development, including the one written by Martin Gansberg for the New York Times, also mentioned again that Moseley had confessed to the murder of Barbara Kralik.
chapter 14
SIDNEY SPARROW KNEW too much. And he could not keep it to himself.
On April 1, Sparrow had spent three hours speaking with Winston Moseley at Kings County Hospital. Sparrow then went and spoke with Herbert Lyon, the defense attorney for Alvin Mitchell.
On April 2, Sidney Sparrow walked into the Queens County Courthouse and presented typed copies of his interview with Moseley to both the District Attorney’s Office and to Judge J. Irwin Shapiro, who, the week prior, had reserved decision on Alvin Mitchell’s appeal for bail. Then Sidney Sparrow held a press conference. With Mitchell’s attorney, Herbert Lyon, sitting next to him at the courthouse press table, Sparrow told reporters of his meeting with Winston Moseley.
Sparrow stated his unequivocal belief that his client had killed Barbara Kralik, calling her murder the first in a series of crimes that “if all the details ever become public, Bluebeard would have to take a back seat.”
Just as Moseley had been telling the truth in the Genovese and Johnson homicides, Sparrow said, he believed Moseley was telling the tr
uth about Kralik as well. Newsday reporter Stuart Dim quoted Sparrow: “It’s a somewhat tricky position I find myself in. Communications between a client and his lawyer are confidential, but by the same token I can’t sit by and see an innocent man (Mitchell) go to trial for something he didn’t do. I urge very strongly against proceeding against Mitchell at this time until Moseley’s confession is thoroughly investigated. I would hate to see a miscarriage of justice.” Newsday ran a three-paragraph item next to this article titled, “CASE MAY BE RERUN OF ‘THE WRONG MAN’ ” in which they briefly recounted Frank O’Connor’s shining involvement in the famous Balestrero case.
In response to Sparrow’s statement, Frank O’Connor was quoted by the New York Herald Tribune as saying, “I certainly am very interested in anything he can give us. I’d give my right arm to establish the innocence of Mitchell if Mitchell is innocent.”
As in the Annie Mae Johnson case, a major difference in Moseley’s account of killing Barbara Kralik had to do with the weapon used. Moseley claimed to have stabbed Barbara with a steak knife. According to police (and the D.A.), Alvin Mitchell had confessed to stabbing Barbara with scissors. In this instance, then, exhuming and X-raying the body would not provide the clear answer as it had with Annie Mae Johnson.
Sparrow continued: “Moseley was very clinical in his talk, and I think he was the actual killer. My prime obligation is to Moseley, and I will defend him to the utmost. But it appears that insanity will be his best defense. He is a psychotic.”
WHILE SIDNEY SPARROW was utterly convinced that Winston Moseley had murdered Barbara Kralik, the two other members of Moseley’s defense team, Julius Lipitz and Martha Zellman, were not.
The day after Sparrow’s press conference, Lipitz and Zellman issued a joint statement saying they were not convinced of Moseley’s guilt. “We are not convinced of anything. We feel there isn’t enough evidence,” Lipitz and Zellman said, adding, “It’s not fair that anyone should have made the statements that have already appeared in the newspapers. It’s too premature for any opinion. We want to see that justice is done, too. But we haven’t come to any conclusion.”
Sidney Sparrow obviously had, however. And as lead counsel, Sparrow had the last word on the direction the Moseley defense would take. In the Kitty Genovese murder—the only one, at least at this point, for which Moseley would stand trial—Sparrow could fathom no credible defense for Moseley other than insanity, in light of his client’s detailed confessions to the police, much of which had been corroborated by the finding of Kitty Genovese’s personal items in the precise locations where Moseley had said they would be. Evidence like this was irrefutable in Sparrow’s view, particularly with a defendant who spoke so candidly, articulately, insistently, and in such great detail of his commission of the crime. Doubts and grousing of co-counsel notwithstanding, Sparrow proceeded to put together the best insanity defense he possibly could. Even his client agreed that the prosecution had him “dead to rights,” as Sidney Sparrow had put it.
To further complicate matters, Sparrow had in Winston Moseley a defendant who, despite his confessed monstrous acts, did not look or act like a crazy man. He was so intelligent; well-spoken; coherent; polite even, with his good manners and gentle countenance. Moseley would not even raise his voice, much less rant like a lunatic. It would not be easy to convince a jury that this man was insane, as Sparrow believed he must be, but it would have been pure folly to try and refute the fact that he had killed Kitty Genovese. In Sparrow’s view, the best victory he could strive for was saving Winston Moseley from the electric chair. Years later, in an interview with the History Channel, Sparrow described his client’s attitude toward killing women, saying that Moseley likened it to swatting at six flies on a wall; five get away, but one you’ve got.
Whatever doubts co-counsel Julius Lipitz and Martha Zellman may have harbored about Moseley’s guilt or insanity may have been put to rest when they joined Sidney Sparrow for another pre-trial meeting with Winston Moseley. In this interview, which was tape recorded, Moseley again went through the explicit details of his crimes. He also made some vulgar, perspicuous comments about the breasts and genitalia of Kitty Genovese. A startled and embarrassed Sidney Sparrow sputtered in reply that he was surprised about Moseley’s evaluation of Kitty Genovese. Sparrow told Moseley that he had had some contact with Kitty himself a few years before, when he had once represented her.
Well before the trial was slated to begin, Sparrow had also mentioned his prior representation of Kitty Genovese to Judge J. Irwin Shapiro. Sparrow had explained the circumstances, telling Judge Shapiro it had been a minor gambling charge during which he had minimal contact with her; she had been one of thousands of small gambling cases on his packed calendar. Sparrow had not had any contact with her in the years since. According to Sidney Sparrow, Judge Shapiro had commented, “Interesting.” This trial would not be the first time, Sparrow said, that he represented someone accused of murdering someone else he had represented in the past.
THE ALVIN MITCHELL controversy provided a temporary distraction from the New York Journal-American’s exhaustive coverage of the Kitty Genovese case and the slew of dramatically wrought “public apathy” stories that followed. The Journal-American’s front-page story on April 3 shifted focus to Alvin Mitchell, featuring a large, close-up photo of Mitchell’s distressed parents with attorney Herbert Lyon under the headline, “WHEN CAN I COME HOME?” The Mitchells told of the living nightmare they had endured in the seven months since their eighteen-year-old son’s arrest for the murder of Barbara Kralik. They said they had always believed in their son’s innocence, a belief further affirmed by Winston Moseley’s confession, not to mention Sidney Sparrow’s assertion that it was true.
Herbert Lyon claimed the police had coerced a confession from Alvin. “The more they questioned him, the more trouble he got himself into,” Lyon said. “The police are very skillful interrogators, and this below-average boy tried to keep up with their questions.” Lyon called for the release of Alvin Mitchell on parole or bail until the reinvestigation could be completed.
The District Attorney’s Office still opposed the release of Alvin Mitchell. They had decided to postpone his trial, however, until after Winston Moseley’s trial for Kitty’s murder.
FRANK CACCIATORE, THE district attorney’s supreme court trial bureau chief, would prosecute Moseley for the Genovese murder. A thirteen-year veteran of the District Attorney’s Office, Cacciatore was one of the most experienced prosecutors, known for his aggressive, feisty manner in the courtroom. Cacciatore had a dominating presence, despite his small physical stature. The trial would be held before Judge J. Irwin Shapiro, a dominating figure himself who brooked no nonsense—nor delay—from attorneys on either side of the aisle.
The DA expected the case to be complex, Sparrow having already announced his intention to pursue an insanity defense. The prosecution would therefore need to prove both the defendant’s guilt via evidence and testimony as well as counter any claims that he had not understood the nature and quality of his acts, or that he had not understood that his acts were wrong. O’Connor assigned a young assistant DA named Charles Skoller to aid Cacciatore in preparing the case for trial. Skoller had recently scored a win in the retrial of a kidnapping and rape case. He had also devoted some study to New York state laws relating to a defense of insanity. With an involved first-degree murder case that had already become a high-profile affair, O’Connor wanted it in the hands of two skilled attorneys. Moreover, Frank Cacciatore anticipated his own appointment to the criminal court bench in the near future. If this happened before the Moseley case came to trial, Skoller could step forward as sole prosecutor in Cacciatore’s stead.
The enormous attention that the case had already garnered could work against the prosecutors in preparing for trial; the ongoing media frenzy in Kew Gardens had made many residents reluctant to speak of it at all for fear of being exposed and thus subject to harassment. The New York Times had received a flurry of letter
s in the wake of their front-page story from readers venting their anger and disgust over the failure of the witnesses in Kew Gardens. Some of the letter writers blamed the police department in general, complaining that officers were often rude to callers and offering this as a reason why the witnesses had not seen fit to contact the police, while others blamed the influence of television for rendering people insensitive to violence. Mostly, though, the finger of condemnation was pointed at the silent witnesses, or at Kew Gardens as a whole.
In the days before twenty-four-hour television news, the shelf life of a story, even one that caused inflammatory reactions at the time of publication, typically lasted a few days before receding into the background of public consciousness, pushed out of the headlines to make way for reportage of the next incendiary incident to come along. This was particularly true in a city the size of New York, with no shortage of galvanizing and provocative news. Significantly, the usual fade-away did not happen with the story of Kitty Genovese (or, more aptly, the story of the silent witnesses). As the weeks wore on in the spring of 1964, it remained a widespread topic of conversation, not to mention a recurring theme in newspapers and magazines.
The coverage was by no means limited to the local media. In his “The View From Here” segment in the April 10, 1964, issue of LIFE magazine, columnist Loudon Wainwright had penned an incisive piece titled, “THE DYING GIRL THAT NO ONE HELPED.” Wainwright opined that “if the reactions of the 38 heedless witnesses to the murder of Catherine Genovese provide any true reflection of a national attitude toward our neighbors, we are becoming a callous, chicken-hearted and immoral people.” An examination of the facts, he stated, “makes very necessary the ugly personal question each of us must ask: What would I have done?”
Kitty Genovese: A True Account of a Public Murder and Its Private Consequences Page 23
