He changed his story, however, when the police entered his study, Rooney charged in the affidavit. There, Rooney and Stanford observed a stack of "hundreds" of prints--some matted, others encased in bindings. At that point, Cole "denied his earlier claim that he had no interest in plates and claimed to have purchased those present," Rooney wrote.
In addition to the prints, the police observed a number of cutting instruments, such as "small, commercial-style razors and a long cutting tool," according to Rooney's affidavit.
The police asked Cole whether he used Harvard's libraries. At first, Cole "denied ever using the stacks [at Widener] and claimed he had no reason to be in there," Rooney wrote. But Cole later admitted that he'd been in Widener at least once in the previous two months. Widener Library checkers interviewed by The Crimson say they remember Cole as a regular visitor to the stacks, both before and after he left his Harvard job in the spring.
According to the affidavit, Cole told police that he owned "a reasonable number of prints." He said he had bought prints from a New York flea market and a North Shore antique shop, and did not think any of his prints were taken from books. The morning after Rooney and Stanford's visit to his home, Cole called the lieutenant to inform him about the incidents at the Boston Public Library and in Cape Cod. Cole told Rooney he wanted "to clear himself of any wrongdoing."
Later in the summer, police banned Cole from the Harvard libraries--the very places where he spent years in research for a University Ph.D. Investigators also circulated a letter featuring a color photograph of Cole and a warning that checkers "need not deal with him directly but should contact the Harvard University Police immediately."
Such letters are issued less than once a year, library security official John Reilly said in July.
Sources give conflicting accounts of what has happened in the case since the summer. Court documents obtained by The Crimson indicate that Rooney--accompanied by Roger Stoddard, curator of the Harvard College Library Rare Book Collection--returned to Cole's home with a search warrant. Neither Rooney nor Stoddard will comment on the investigation, and Chief Johnson says the probe remains open. But Shapiro, Cole's attorney, says that, as far as he knows, "that matter is closed."
Yesterday, Johnson confirmed that Cole remains banned from the libraries. But the chief has also indicated there is no substantial evidence against Cole or anybody else in the case.
"If he had done something wrong that we could prove, he would be the focus of the investigation," Johnson says.
But three police sources charge that the main problem in the investigation was that application for the search warrant was "botched." They declined to explain further.
Asked last week if the police had made errors in obtaining the search warrant, Johnson said" "Nothing was found. The search warrant was not productive....The intent of the search warrant was not fulfilled."
A Deep Desire To Beat the System
Cole's friends say that while they know a lot about him, they don't really know him. But one constant throughout their friend's life, they note, is a rebellious streak.
"You know how banks hire people like computer hackers to beat the system?" says Waxenberg, who has known Cole since high school. "Bill's got the perfect mentality for that. Bill likes to beat the system just to show the system can be beat."
"If you try to find a common thread," Waxenberg adds, "I think you'll find that a recurrent one."
In that context, nearly all of Cole's actions make sense, Waxenberg and others say. The Fishhead Coup, after all, was a piece of technical genius that satisfies the mind but is almost impossible to employ in a real game.
In high school, in college, in bridge, Cole has always pushed at limits. Sometimes he's just pushed too hard.
"If you met him," Waxenberg says, "I think you'd like him."