Mrs. Rich. That element, if what my husband had told me was true, could have involved him a lot deeper than I suspected. And quite frankly I am not stupid enough, shall we say, to believe if I ever went to the authorities and that element was involved that I would ever live to tell a second story. And if my suppositions were true as to who the man’s identity really is—a combination of fear for myself and protecting my husband. And at that time I thought, I suppose many citizens do, well, let the next fellow do it, they will catch them eventually. I chose to close my eyes.
Mr. Griffin. You still have the fear of that element?
Mrs. Rich. No; I do not.
Mr. Griffin. Why is that?
Mrs. Rich. Well, since then I have become involved more extensively or intensively in police work—and I don’t know—perhaps I have got some sense in my head. I am just not. I was told to tell you this—by the way, I had better bring it in now—I don’t know if it has any direct result on this or not—but I was advised by Mr. Sweeny from the Secret Service and Mr. Fahety from the FBI to tell you of this. A week——
Mr. Hubert. When did Mr. Sweeny and Mr. Fahety tell you what you are about to tell us?
Mrs. Rich. Fahety said it on Monday—Sweeny said it on Monday.
Mr. Hubert. Last Monday?
Mrs. Rich. Yesterday. And Fahety told me Friday.
Mr. Hubert. Where?