Kitty Genovese: A True Account of a Public Murder and Its Private Consequences (14 page)

“My former superintendent, now deceased, of the co-op building where I moved in 1993 was named Joseph Fink,” she said. “He was foreign-born, Germany, I think, possibly Austria, and was in his late sixties when he died in a fall from a ladder outside my building around the late 1990s, possibly the year 2000. He had come to the building as a young man, I was told by old-time neighbors.”

The woman wondered whether he was the same Joseph Fink from the Mowbray, moving to her building to escape the notoriety of the Genovese case. She described how he was waked at the time of his death, the room where he was laid out “looking rather Germanic-Medieval.” She added, “In my opinion he was a strange man all the years I knew him as my super, his little comments to both my teen son and myself forming my opinion of him.” She stated he was single and described him as wearing glasses, an “odd”-looking man with unruly hair. As for his role as superintendent, she said, “He was the best handyman, and my elderly neighbors liked to give him breakfast
or other meals in exchange for household fix-its. My neighbors never mentioned his involvement with the Genovese case, but perhaps he never told anyone.”

A few years after making his 2003 affidavit, Michael Hoffman, who lived in the Mowbray as a teenager from 1962 to 1965, said he did not recall anyone named Joseph Fink. He remembered one elevator man at the Mowbray who seemed to fit the description, although he did not think he was the night duty operator. Of this man, Hoffman recalled, “He had a heavy German accent. He hated Jewish people and the kids (even non-Jewish) called him ‘Adolph.’ He did wear glasses, but I’d have to put him around fifty [in 1964.] Of all the employees, not one was younger, all were close to or over fifty, and all were German or of German heritage.”

Whatever the truth may be—whether the Joseph Fink from the Mowbray and the superintendent with the “German-Medieval” funeral wake were one in the same; whether Michael Hoffman, four decades later, misremembered which elevator man worked the night shift (or, more precisely, which one happened to be working
that night
); whether there was something in his psyche or his past or both that made Joseph Fink immune to the suffering of another person and averse to contact with authorities—the fact remained that he, stationed in the lobby of the Mowbray and thus perhaps in the best position to immediately grasp the urgency of the situation, did not involve himself in the slightest way during the ordeal of Kitty Genovese. This becomes all the more disturbing in light of what followed, once the killer fled and his victim was left alone on the sidewalk, injured and weeping. As Michael Hoffman further recalled:

“Kitty was trying to get up and move almost as soon as the attacker took off, but she was not having an easy time of it, obviously. I’d estimate that it was about a full minute before she was somewhat erect. Kitty first leaned on the parked car she was next to, then the tree near it, and then staggered to the building. She was using the building for support, and it was about another minute or ninety seconds before she rounded the corner by the pharmacy. I called out where she went to my dad, who was still waiting for the police to answer.”

Michael Hoffman claimed the officers thanked them that morning for calling the police after the Hoffmans told them that they had.

Perhaps so. But the overwhelming feeling among the detectives on that day and ever after was that neither they nor Kitty Genovese had many people to thank.

DETECTIVES JOHN CARROLL
and Mitchell Sang were present for the initial examination of Catherine Genovese in the basement morgue at Queens General Hospital. After listing the clothing she wore, Detective Carroll wrote in his report: “All of the undergarments, brassiere, panties, girdle, shorts, were torn apart in the front. There were four separate and distinct slashes in the back of her outer jacket and blouse. The front of her blouse also had numerous perforations. There were immediately visible approximately eight wounds in the chest, abdomen, and throat and four wounds in her back.”

In his postmortem report, Detective Carroll also noted cuts on the fingers and palm of the right hand. These injuries indicated that the victim had fought back, or at least attempted to defend herself.

Dr. William Benenson, Assistant Medical Examiner for the City of New York, conducted an autopsy on Catherine Genovese later that morning. As required by law, a blood relative, in this case Catherine’s uncle, Vito Genovese, made an official identification of the deceased prior to autopsy.

The autopsy revealed a total of thirteen stab wounds: four in her back, nine on the front of her body spread out from her inner thigh to her throat. Then there were the cuts on her hands and fingers that the detectives had noticed, defense wounds inflicted when she held up her hands to ward off the knife thrusts. In addition to the superficial cuts on the fingers, her right hand had an incision in the palm and another that reached down to the tendons.

None of the wounds were especially deep. Even the neck gash, though 4¾ inches in length, had not penetrated deeply enough to sever a major artery. Dr. Benenson determined the cause of death as bilateral pneumothorax due to multiple stab wounds. Two of the cuts in her back had penetrated the right and left chest, slowly releasing air
into the chest cavity. As a result of that, the lungs were compressed and breathing gradually became impossible. The stab wounds she sustained in the later attack had contributed to the chest cavity filling with air, leading to her death.

Though she still would have been able to speak and cry out after the first attack, as the witnesses claimed, the wounds would have been extremely painful and no doubt very frightening, giving the sensation, moment to moment, of being able to breathe a little less. Though the back wounds may have ultimately been fatal, they had not, however, been
imminently
fatal.

It had taken well over an hour for Kitty to slowly suffocate to death.

As noted, DD5 reports typically are not imbued with emotion, certainly not that of the investigating officers. But some DD5s in the case of the Kitty Genovese homicide seem to betray a hint of feeling from detectives who wrote them. One report taken that morning included a statement from a woman who told them that she heard the screaming “but she didn’t bother to go to the window until she heard an ambulance on the scene.” This statement followed one from a husband and wife who gave an account of hearing “several screams for help,” then watching the man in the dark hat walk around the railroad parking lot “looking for something” before he walked to the back of the Tudor building.

A call from the Hoffmans and an attempted call from Andree Picq notwithstanding, there were plenty of others who, the police felt, should have called. Particularly those who, unlike the Hoffmans,
did
hear the words Kitty cried out—“stabbed,” “help,” “dying.” With the number of people who acknowledged remaining at their windows for a prolonged period of time, it wasn’t as if it had all been over in an instant.

While no one person did or could have seen the entire ordeal from start to finish—which police could now reasonably estimate at lasting about thirty or thirty-five minutes—there seemed sufficient ground for a number of them, based on what they
did
see or hear, to have contacted authorities at the very least.

From another canvass of the Mowbray that morning, conducted by Detective George Volz and Patrolman Patrick Breen:

—Heard screams of “Help me, help me, he is stabbing me or he stabbed me.” She saw nor heard nothing further.

—Heard screams and saw the deceased fall in front of the bookstore and then saw a male bend over her, could not identify the perpetrator.

—Heard screams of “Help me, help me,” and saw nor heard anything further.

—They heard screams and saw her laying on the ground.

—Heard screams but did not know what was said.

—Heard screams, could not say what was said.

From a DD5 written by Detective Edgar Sand, interviewing two others:

—Stated she woke up when she heard the girl screaming and all she heard was the girl saying “Help me.” She looked out the window and saw a woman stagger out of sight.

—Heard a woman scream and say, “He’s got me, he’s got me. Please help me.” She saw nothing.

Edward Bieniewicz, forty-one years old, was the building superintendent of the Mowbray. He and his wife, Anna, occupied a third-floor apartment with windows facing Austin Street. The couple had been awakened by the screams. Rushing to the window, Mr. Bieniewicz had yanked the venetian blinds so hard that they fell off. Spotting the man and the shrieking woman across the street, Bieniewicz opened his window to get a better look, nearly putting his head through the screen as he strained forward.

He saw the man run, saw Kitty get off the ground. According to Bieniewicz, she staggered but didn’t say anything then. “I figured it was a lover’s quarrel, that her man had knocked her down. So my wife and I went back to bed.”

THEN THERE WERE
the people in the Tudor building.

The floor of the hallway at 82-62 Austin Street was still wet with blood when Detective Charles Prestia arrived that morning. Like so
many of his colleagues from neighboring commands, Prestia had been summoned to assist with the Kew Gardens homicide investigation. Ultimately there would be fifty-nine members of the NYPD involved in the investigation in some way. As Detective Prestia recalled, “It was an unusual crime. Not just for the area, but because of the predatory nature, a man stalking and stabbing a woman on the street the way he did.” One thing police could be certain of from the start: the perpetrator was an extremely violent and dangerous individual; fearless, even, in the way he relentlessly hunted his victim in view of so many potential witnesses. Neighbors had told police of opening their windows or turning on lights from the time of the first attack. As one who had opened his window described it, “I could see people with their heads out and hear windows going up and down all along the street.” Presumably the killer saw this as well. He had run away for a time yet he had not ultimately been thwarted from his objective. According to the persons who had watched him return and search, he had not even displayed any obvious signs of nervousness. No jerkiness in his motions, no anxious or wary looks over his shoulder. Relaxed, but certainly tenacious.

The assailant had been absolutely determined to kill this woman, so much so that he was willing to risk the possibility of intervention or identification during the long period of time it took him to do so. Police had to consider the possibility that Kitty had known her killer, that the murderer had some strong, personal reason for wanting to cause her death.

Detectives were hoping some of her closest neighbors, the ones in the Tudor building, might be able to shed some light on the life of Kitty Genovese, whether she had voiced any concerns, complained of anyone harassing her. With the exception of her roommate, Mary Ann Zielonko, however, it seemed that few of the neighbors knew Kitty well enough to be of much help in that regard. Though she was friendly with her neighbors, it seemed she was a very private person when it came to her personal life.

Moreover, Kitty’s neighbors in the Tudor weren’t very helpful when it came to telling detectives what they saw or heard of the murder that had culminated in their own building.

Greta Schwartz and Sophie Farrar had of course come to Kitty’s aid. Greta had not heard the attacks. Sophie had heard only the first screams on Austin Street but had not been able to see anyone when she looked out her window. Considering both women had actually gone outside to help as soon as they were made aware, it could reasonably be assumed they would have acted to save Kitty much earlier, had they known.

Detective Robert Plover interviewed Sophie Farrar later that day in search of any information she might be able to add regarding either the crime or the victim. Sophie told the detective that she had known Kitty for about one year, when Kitty had moved into the apartment next to hers. Though Sophie knew Kitty fairly well, chatting with her often, she knew little of her personal life. She found Kitty and her girlfriends to be quiet and pleasant. Kitty apparently trusted both Sophie and the safety of the neighborhood; when she was not at home she left her door open at times so that Sophie could answer the phone for her.

The detective inquired, did Sophie have any idea who or why someone may have wanted to harm Kitty? No, she did not. Sophie had heard no complaints or rumors. The names George and Paul meant nothing to her, and she could not recall ever hearing either of those names from Kitty or her friends, or in the neighborhood. Sophie added, in response to the detective’s question, that when she saw Karl Ross at the time Kitty was found in the hallway, he did not look like he had been drinking. They had put this question to her in response to Karl’s claim that he had had a few drinks in the time leading up to the attack on Kitty, offering this as the reason he had not seen or heard a thing prior to Kitty ending up in his hallway. It also explained, at least in his mind, his reluctance to call police.