by the people who had discovered the body. But—as Detective Wood would later recall—“two pairs of footprints, always close together, stood out distinctly from the rest.”These prints formed a slightly meandering trail that led to the pit from the direction of the Old Colony Railroad Station.
Tearing open his bundle, Sergeant Goodwin knelt down in the dirt and carefully laid the two sets of shoes inside the prints. Though the match seemed very close, it was impossible to say whether the tracks had been made by Pomeroy and his victim, since other children—like the two Powers brothers, who had first stumbled onto Horace Millen’s body—were known to have been on the marsh.
With the curious—and steadily growing—crowd following at a slight distance, the investigators began to follow the parallel tracks back toward the railroad station. Fifty years later, Wood would remember the occasion with perfect clarity. “We followed the trail in silence. Sometimes, when the ground grew hard or became grass-covered, the footprints were almost obliterated. Then we would come upon them again—always close together.”
The trail led to a place called McCay’s Wharf. From the pattern that their shoes had made in the soft clay, it was clear that the older of the two boys had jumped from the wharf first, then assisted the smaller child, apparently by reaching up, taking him in his arms, and lifting him down.
The officers were about two hundred feet from the railroad station when—as Wood described it—“the trail was lost for good. By then, however, we had seen enough to arrive at the conclusion that the larger footprints, almost the size of a man’s, were evidently those of an older person who had led the younger child on.” Some of the footprints were virtually effaced. Others, however, “were revealed in such startling clarity that it occurred to me that molds could be made.” When Wood voiced this suggestion to his colleagues, Sergeant Hood recalled that a man named Moulton lived nearby. A stonemason by trade, Moulton was sure to have plenty of plaster of Paris on hand.
An officer was immediately dispatched to Moulton’s shop. A short while later, he returned with a sackful of the powdery substance, which was quickly mixed and poured into the most distinct of the footprints. Altogether the investigators made fifteen casts. In his published reminiscence of the case, Wood described what happened next:
“As soon as the plaster was sufficiently dry, we lifted the casts out carefully. Then commenced a minute study. There was a peculiarindentation on the plaster sole impression of one of the larger footprints. Further examination satisfied us that those prints could have been made by only one pair of shoes.
“Those were the shoes we had taken from the feet of young Jesse Pomeroy.”
The detectives had found what they were looking for: solid evidence of Pomeroy’s presence at the crime scene. Now there was just one more thing Wood was determined to get.
He wanted to hear Jesse Pomeroy confess.
* * *
It was close to noon when the investigators returned to Station Six. They found Chief Savage waiting for them in Captain Dyer’s office. While Wood and his colleagues reviewed their findings for the chief, two officers were sent downstairs to fetch Jesse from his cell. Seeing that the boy was still fast asleep, one of the men began pounding on the door until Jesse stirred and sat up groggily. At that point—according to Jesse’s own account—the second policeman put his face close to the bars and jeered: “You are guilty and will be shut up for a hundred years!” Then—laughing and cursing—they took Jesse from the cell and roughly escorted him upstairs.
Inside Dyer’s office, Jesse was subjected to another thorough grilling, this one conducted primarily by Savage. The chief began by asking him about the motives for his earlier crimes, the series of slashings that had landed him in Westborough.
Jesse
Tearing open his bundle, Sergeant Goodwin knelt down in the dirt and carefully laid the two sets of shoes inside the prints. Though the match seemed very close, it was impossible to say whether the tracks had been made by Pomeroy and his victim, since other children—like the two Powers brothers, who had first stumbled onto Horace Millen’s body—were known to have been on the marsh.
With the curious—and steadily growing—crowd following at a slight distance, the investigators began to follow the parallel tracks back toward the railroad station. Fifty years later, Wood would remember the occasion with perfect clarity. “We followed the trail in silence. Sometimes, when the ground grew hard or became grass-covered, the footprints were almost obliterated. Then we would come upon them again—always close together.”
The trail led to a place called McCay’s Wharf. From the pattern that their shoes had made in the soft clay, it was clear that the older of the two boys had jumped from the wharf first, then assisted the smaller child, apparently by reaching up, taking him in his arms, and lifting him down.
The officers were about two hundred feet from the railroad station when—as Wood described it—“the trail was lost for good. By then, however, we had seen enough to arrive at the conclusion that the larger footprints, almost the size of a man’s, were evidently those of an older person who had led the younger child on.” Some of the footprints were virtually effaced. Others, however, “were revealed in such startling clarity that it occurred to me that molds could be made.” When Wood voiced this suggestion to his colleagues, Sergeant Hood recalled that a man named Moulton lived nearby. A stonemason by trade, Moulton was sure to have plenty of plaster of Paris on hand.
An officer was immediately dispatched to Moulton’s shop. A short while later, he returned with a sackful of the powdery substance, which was quickly mixed and poured into the most distinct of the footprints. Altogether the investigators made fifteen casts. In his published reminiscence of the case, Wood described what happened next:
“As soon as the plaster was sufficiently dry, we lifted the casts out carefully. Then commenced a minute study. There was a peculiarindentation on the plaster sole impression of one of the larger footprints. Further examination satisfied us that those prints could have been made by only one pair of shoes.
“Those were the shoes we had taken from the feet of young Jesse Pomeroy.”
The detectives had found what they were looking for: solid evidence of Pomeroy’s presence at the crime scene. Now there was just one more thing Wood was determined to get.
He wanted to hear Jesse Pomeroy confess.
* * *
It was close to noon when the investigators returned to Station Six. They found Chief Savage waiting for them in Captain Dyer’s office. While Wood and his colleagues reviewed their findings for the chief, two officers were sent downstairs to fetch Jesse from his cell. Seeing that the boy was still fast asleep, one of the men began pounding on the door until Jesse stirred and sat up groggily. At that point—according to Jesse’s own account—the second policeman put his face close to the bars and jeered: “You are guilty and will be shut up for a hundred years!” Then—laughing and cursing—they took Jesse from the cell and roughly escorted him upstairs.
Inside Dyer’s office, Jesse was subjected to another thorough grilling, this one conducted primarily by Savage. The chief began by asking him about the motives for his earlier crimes, the series of slashings that had landed him in Westborough.
Jesse
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