The story you are about to hear is true.
Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Fatima cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes, brings you Dragnet.
You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned to robbery detail.
Three persons are shot down in a $12,000 holdup.
One of the bandits is apprehended, convicted, and sent to prison for life.
The other one is still at large.
Your job, get him.
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Dragnet, the documented drama of an actual crime.
For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will
travel step by step on the side of the law through an actual case from official police
files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
It was Tuesday, June 6th.
It was cloudy in Los Angeles.
We were working a day watch out of robbery detail.
My partner's Ben Romero.
The boss is Captain Ed Walker.
My name's Friday.
I was on the way back from communications and it was 11.35 a.m. when I got to room 27A.
Robbery division.
Joe, how are you?
Oh, hi Dave.
Message in the book player.
Came in a couple of minutes ago.
Oh, thank you.
Woman's voice.
I'll need you to call as soon as you get in.
Yeah, thank you Dave.
I'll get it now.
Woman's voice.
Police woman River there please.
Just a minute.
River?
Hold on please.
All right.
Miss River.
Dorothy, Joe Friday.
Oh yes, Joe.
You got the message?
Yeah.
You worrying about your purse?
I can't find it anywhere.
Did I leave it in your car last night?
Found it this morning.
I can leave it at the desk here if you like.
You can pick it up sometime today.
Well, that'll be swell, Joe.
Thanks a lot.
Sure, Dorothy.
Had a wonderful time last night, Joe.
I certainly enjoyed it.
Yeah.
Pretty good movie, huh?
Say, uh, Dorothy?
Yeah.
Uh, Mother and I were talking this morning at breakfast.
Uh, like come over the house sometime for dinner?
Mom'd like to meet you.
Oh, well sure.
Fine.
I'd like to meet your mother.
How about a week from this coming Monday?
That's my day off.
Is that okay?
All right.
A week from this Monday.
The weather's good.
Well, maybe we can have a barbecue out in the back.
Oh, it sounds wonderful.
Okay.
See you later then.
All right, Joe.
Bye.
Bye.
Joe?
Hi.
How'd it work out, Ben?
It didn't.
Another false alarm.
Sure is a scorcher out today.
Four months work and not one solid lead.
Where are we going?
I haven't got the answer.
I've run down so many bum tips, I don't think I know the real thing that hit me in the face.
Yeah.
Romero?
Joe?
Yeah, Skipper?
Oh, McGuire and Morton Gear from San Diego just got here.
You want to come in?
Yeah, right away.
There they are.
Hi, McGuire.
Hi.
Oh, Ben.
How you doing?
Sit down.
Hope you two have more than we have.
It's all in that report on the Skipper's desk.
Four months leg work, cold.
Nothing at all?
Lots of phony tips, bum leads.
We got three stakeouts going.
His mug shots plastered all over town.
No go, huh?
I don't know.
I think he's got the perfect face for a killer.
You can hang his description on a million guys.
Got nothing on him at all.
Ben here just ran down the last lead we own.
Yeah, false alarm.
Nothing on the APB, huh?
Got dust on it.
Cold enough to bury.
How long's it been since it happened back in January, wasn't it?
Yeah, 27th.
Stanley Finance Company, San Diego.
It's all right there in the report, Ed.
Yeah, I see.
Hold up shooting, got 12,000 suspects.
Frank Cheney, Turk Weber, Cheney did the shooting.
That's what stopped me.
What's that?
It took us a couple of weeks to grab Turk Weber and put him away.
Here it's more than four months and Cheney's still on the loose.
Doesn't add, he can't be that smart.
Well, he's free.
I can't think of a better testimonial.
What about the other angles, Friday, besides those three stakeouts?
We covered the town for Cheney.
He had four months of it.
Hotels, rooming houses, motor courts, bars, restaurants, the works.
Must have a couple of thousand copies of his mug shots spread around.
No response?
We don't get four or five calls a day on him.
It's been going on for weeks now.
We check him out.
Never the right man.
What about his wife?
She's still supposed to be with Cheney, isn't she?
Funny thing, we haven't had one report on her.
Last time the two of them were supposed to have been seen together was five weeks ago.
That was up in Stockton.
Cheney's mother-in-law lives in Marysville, huh?
They still have a stakeout on her house?
Yeah, no leads there either.
How about it, Mort?
Nothing to offer?
About the same as up here.
There is something we'd like to check on, though.
Yeah?
One of McGuire's informants was paroled two weeks ago.
He served time with Cheney at Folsom.
You have anything to say?
Yeah.
His idea of Frank Cheney was the most hated man at Folsom.
Most of the cons had given their right arm to cool him off.
What made him so popular?
Pretty much of a heel.
Ran out of the warden's office three times a week, regular.
Informed on the other cons every chance he got.
You figure some of them might want to even the score.
If they know anything, I'm pretty sure they'll talk.
Worth a try, isn't it?
Their leads can't be any colder than what we got, anyway.
You gonna need any help, Mort?
No, McGuire and I can handle the questioning.
We'll go up to Folsom tomorrow.
Okay.
I don't think there's any argument.
This thing needs a quick answer.
Joe, you and Ben will have to push a lot harder and a lot faster.
Cheney's robbed and killed before.
Give him a chance.
He'll do it again.
We've run down all the possible ankles, Ed.
We've checked every lead we could dig up.
There's one you missed.
Yeah?
The right one.
Find it.
From the day Frank Cheney had been identified as the killer in the San Diego hold-up murder
four months before, all of us realized the danger of another killing as long as he was
loose.
After 18 years in prison, Cheney had a gun and he had his freedom again.
We knew he wouldn't give him up easily.
Thursday, June 8th, Lieutenant Mort Gere and Sergeant Tony McGuire returned from Folsom
prison.
After talking with most of the convicts who knew Cheney well during his prison days, they
had a list of more than 40 leads to run down.
Ben and I took half of them.
We started checking.
It went kind of slow and the results were thin.
After running down the first dozen leads, we'd found out nothing about the suspect that
we didn't already know.
Monday, June 12th, we checked with John Strezak, supposedly one of Cheney's close friends up
at Folsom.
He'd been paroled before Cheney and he was now working at a large commercial engraving
firm down in East Maine.
Yeah, I knew Cheney pretty well, Sergeant.
Pretty well.
Just a minute, will you?
Mm-hmm.
Yeah, I'll tell you.
I know why you're here, Sergeant.
I can't help you.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I can't help you.
You were pretty close to Cheney up at Folsom, weren't you, Strezak?
Best friend?
Everybody was his best friend.
Everybody could do him some good.
And you haven't seen or heard from him since he got out, huh?
No, but I want to.
I learn fast.
How do you mean?
He's a bum, Sergeant.
Some people are born that way.
Tried to talk me into a break once, it didn't buy.
I knew he didn't write to the warden with it.
Some people are born that way, bums.
You think somebody might be hiding him out?
Some of his pals.
How about them?
He's got any pals?
I don't know him.
I can tell you this, they didn't come out of Folsom.
Did you think of anything at all that might give us some kind of a lead on Cheney?
I wish I could, believe me.
I'd better get back on the job, shop for him.
He's no better than Cheney, bum.
All right, Strezak, thanks a lot.
If I can know if you hear anything, I'm gonna leave you one of our cards here.
Yeah, okay, Sergeant.
Hey, Strezak, what did you go up for in here?
Just what I'm doing.
Huh?
Braving.
We kept at it, checking out the leads one by one, the same slow, dull routine that we've
been on for four months.
It ate up valuable time, but it was necessary.
You never know what a lead's worth until you check it out.
During the past months, from the least promising sources, we'd uncovered a half a dozen bits
of information about the suspect, none of them conclusive, but they helped point the
way.
We found out Cheney's favorite sport was sailing.
Yacht clubs up and down the coast were contacted and asked to watch for him.
We learned where Cheney got his eyeglasses, contact lenses.
We went to the optician, got the prescription for them, and had copies of it distributed
to all optical firms in the area.
They got a request for lenses which matched those in Cheney's eyeglasses or contact lenses
they were to notify us.
From a former college friend, we found out that the suspect was once treated for tuberculosis,
and because of this, he drank only goat's milk.
All the retailers in the area who sold goat's milk were contacted and alerted.
We set up a system to check regularly all the mail received by relatives of both Cheney
and his wife, Thursday, June 15.
Hi.
San Diego called while you were out, and weren't here.
Did they come up with anything?
Yeah.
One lead told them Cheney learned the printing trade while he was up at Folsom, knew the
business well enough to work at it.
San Diego checking that out?
They alerted the printer's union, we'll do the same up here.
Picture and story on Cheney will be in the union newspaper next week.
Yeah.
Now we dug up another bit on Cheney, we got it this morning.
What's that?
Instead of ordinary eyeglasses, Cheney's been known to wear contact lenses, you know,
the glass fits right over your eye?
Uh-huh.
Good chance he might be wearing them now.
Kind of helped change his appearance.
We got the prescription for the lenses from Cheney's eye doctor, got the information to
all the optical firms in town.
Good.
Friday, the man out here to see you.
Oh, okay, thank you, Dave.
All right, that's all.
Better contact San Diego, keep him posted.
Right, Skipper.
This gentleman here's yours.
This is Sergeant Friday.
Yes, sir.
Hi, Sergeant.
You remember me, Vince Bertoli?
You were in my place last month, the White House Grill.
Place down on Alameda?
Yeah, that's right.
Block from Union Station.
Both of you came in.
Oh, yeah.
You had coffee and an omelet.
You liked the omelet.
Sure, sure, yeah.
What can we do for you, Bertoli?
Well, remember you were talking to me?
You said you were looking for somebody.
You left some pictures in this card of yours here.
Yeah, that's right.
Well, I lost the pictures.
I don't know where I lost them, but I kept your card.
That's why I came to see you.
Why?
Well, as I say, I lost the pictures, but I lost the pictures.
I lost the pictures.
I lost the pictures.
I lost the pictures.
I lost the pictures.
I lost the pictures, but I still have an idea what they look like.
Have you seen either one of those people, the man or the woman?
Well, that's why I came to check with you.
A week ago, one of my steady waitresses quit and I hired this brunette with a hard luck
story.
Care for a stick of gum, licorice flavor?
No, no.
Nothing.
Well, after a couple of days, I remembered that picture you gave me, and I thought she
looked a little like it.
That's why I kept an eye on her.
Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?
I bet she never dates anybody.
Not even me, and I'm the boss.
Not ugly either.
Yeah.
She always claims she's got to get home.
Never gives a reason to say she lives alone.
Where does she live?
A couple of blocks from my place on North Jersey, I think.
I checked the place where she does her shopping.
They tell me she buys enough groceries for three people.
She still insists that she's living by herself, though.
Yeah, that's why I thought I'd better check with you.
I lost the pictures, but I hung on to your card.
Would you take a look at this photograph, Bertolli?
Yeah.
Sure, see one you gave me.
Looks just like her, Mary Sloan.
Who?
Mary Sloan.
That's her name, isn't it?
You want to turn that picture over?
Mrs. Frank Cheney.
Thursday, 4 p.m.
Ben and I drove down to the White House Grill and had a cup of coffee.
We got a good look at the waitress whom the owner, Vince Bertolli, suspected of being Mrs.
Cheney.
We left and waited outside in the car until 5 o'clock when the suspect came out.
We followed her to a grocery store and from there to a run-down apartment building on
Greystone Alley just off Temple.
We waited a few minutes and then we followed her in.
The tab on one of the mailboxes read, Mary Sloan, apartment 16.
We went up.
Which one, Joe?
Number 16.
It's down this way.
Come on.
Mm-hmm.
I guess we better try the door, huh?
Who's there?
Who is it?
Police officers.
Open up.
What do you want?
Open the door.
Just a minute.
Anybody else in here?
My brother, he's sick.
Sleeping in the next room.
He can't be disturbed.
Come on, Ben.
You can't go in there.
Honey, the couch!
Get out!
Joe, the window.
All right, get back inside here.
Come on, you.
Let me go!
Let go of me!
His arm's bent.
Grab him.
All right, you.
Are you all right?
Yeah.
Thought he broke my bridgework.
Yeah, and you got clipped for nothing.
Hmm?
Not Cheney.
We drove the man in the window.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
He's dead.
We drove the man and the woman who identified herself as Mary Sloane back to the office where
they are identified as fugitives from Miami, Florida.
The man was wanted on charges of first-degree burglary.
The woman was the accomplice.
We turned the case over to Bunko Fugitive Detail.
A little after 11 o'clock Friday morning, Ben got a tip that Cheney had been seen the
night before at a small bar down near Fullerton.
That's a Los Angeles suburb.
He was supposed to be living in the area.
We spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday tracking it down.
It went nowhere.
On Monday, for the first time in three and a half weeks, we had some time off. Half a day.
I picked up policewoman Dorothy River and drove her out to the house for lunch.
We had a barbecue out in the backyard.
Certainly a wonderful place you have here, Mrs. Friday. Beautiful garden.
Oh, thank you. It's a lot of work keeping it up.
Roses didn't do well at all this year.
Aphids, you know.
How about some more spare ribs, Dorothy? The fire's just right now.
Oh, no thanks, Jo. I've had plenty.
Care for another cup of coffee, Dorothy?
All right, thank you.
I'm glad you could come today, Dorothy.
Joseph's been talking so much about you.
Oh? You surprised me a little when I met you.
How's that?
How about some more ribs, Ma?
Look at you, Joseph.
I don't think you look at all like a policewoman.
Most of them are rough looking, I think.
Oh, no, I don't think so.
They look like most women. Nothing much out of the ordinary about them.
Oh? Well, times have certainly changed.
We didn't have policewomen when I was a girl.
Probably could have used them.
Well, I don't know. I don't think we had so much crime then.
Times were much different.
You seem so young for such work, Dorothy. Policewoman.
I'm 25, Mrs. Friday.
Been with the department almost two years.
Oh, yes, you're a young girl.
Joseph's 31, you know.
Yes, I know.
Hey, Ma, how about letting me gather you the dishes I put you on?
Oh, no, no, that's all right, Joseph. You just sit there.
Have your coffee.
I'm used to this.
Have to get used to housework when you're married.
I'll bring up Pa.
You have a wonderful dinner, Jo.
Your mother's very sweet.
Yeah, real subtle, isn't she?
Motherly instinct. Somebody has to look after you.
That's the phone, Dorothy. I better grab it. I'll be right back.
OK.
Hello, Mr. Joseph.
Never mind, Ma. Let me get it.
Friday talking.
This is Walker, Jo. Check back in right away.
What have you got?
Spring and West Temple, the Second National Bank.
Yeah, Frank Cheney just held it up.
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Monday, June 19th, 3 p.m.
I went back to the office, picked up Ben and Captain Walker,
and the three of us drove to the scene of the robbery
at the corner of Spring and West Temple, the Second National Bank.
Ricketts and Thaxter from robbery detail were already there questioning the witnesses.
We talked to the bank's vice president in charge at the time of the holdup,
Mr. Bronson. He had a welt on the right side of his head
and was pretty badly shaken.
He had his hand in one of his coat pockets and he walked straight over to me.
It's the first thing he said. This is a holdup.
You're positive of the identification, Mr. Bronson?
I'm certain this picture here, it's the man, all right.
The others will tell you the same.
Who's that, Mr. Bronson?
The tellers. They all got a good look at him. No mistake.
Well, what happened after Chaney approached you?
He was very calm, very quiet.
Uh-huh.
He said, do exactly what I tell you.
Call for help and I'll kill you.
He was calm all the way through it, just like it was an ordinary business with him.
Did he have you get the money for him?
No, he ordered me from back at the front counter there and...
we went from cage to cage.
Each time he had me say the same thing to the teller.
This is a holdup.
Give me all the currency you have. Don't call for help.
How many tellers did he have you collect from?
Five.
This line along here, windows one to five.
My knees were shaking so hard I could barely walk.
I kept wondering if one of the tellers might try to sound the alarm.
Yes, sir. What happened after he got the money?
He had me walk in front of him, down there to the side exit.
That's when he hit me, I guess.
Side of my head, you can see here where they bandaged it.
Uh-huh. Yes, sir.
How much money did he get, do you know?
Oh, I'm not quite sure. More than 4,000.
I can't help but think how lucky I am.
That man's a killer, I'm certain of it.
Are you sure that we can't fix you up with a ride home?
No, no, I'll be all right. Thank you. My wife's on the way down now.
Hey, can I see you follow the man?
Yeah, thanks, sir. Excuse us, will you, Bronson?
Yes, certainly.
I've loaded up all the dope on the getaway car Cheney used.
Yeah?
At 2 this afternoon, he went to a used car lot up in Figaro, about 8 blocks from here.
It has to be shown a late model Ford.
Yeah, go ahead.
Salesman took him for a demonstration ride.
When he pulled up for an arterial, Cheney jabbed a gun at him and told him to get out.
Salesman got out, Cheney drove off.
And 15 minutes later, he walked in here and pulled the robbery.
That's it. The bank tellers tabbed the same Ford as the getaway car.
Broadcasted all points on the car, nothing yet.
What time you got, Romero?
Hmm, 10 minutes before. What time the alert go out, Tankster?
2.45.
Everything covered?
Yeah, Union Station, both airports, the bus depots, they're all alerted.
Roadblock set up in the highways.
Since 2.45. Just a bond.
And Cheney's somewhere in the city.
Find him.
6 p.m., the search went on.
We called into the office and had them notify San Diego of the latest developments in the case.
At 7 p.m., the weather started to cloud up.
Still no sign of Cheney or the getaway car.
At 8 o'clock, it started to rain.
A few minutes past 10, a two-door Ford sedan was found abandoned on San Pedro Street near South Park.
A license number matched that of Cheney's getaway car.
The sedan was impounded and towed to a garage for fingerprinting.
Ben called the office and an emergency detail from Metropolitan Division was sent out to help in a house-to-house canvas of the neighborhood where the car had been found.
By 4.30 the next morning, we got nowhere.
So we decided to give it up until later in the day.
At 6.30 a.m., we had poached eggs and coffee at an all-night drive-in.
At 7 a.m., it was still raining. We checked back in at the office.
I don't know. Seems like every time we have to work late, it's gonna rain.
You got any of those little white tablets in your locker?
That breakfast gave me an digestion.
I think I got a few there.
That reminds me, how'd the dinner come off yesterday?
Did it get along all right?
Oh, all right. You know how it is, mind, her usual few things to say.
Oh?
Dorothy handled it pretty good. Good sense of humor.
You got a nice-looking girl. Sends them.
Hiya.
What's up, Earl?
Doing any good?
No, not much.
Phone message in the book for you. You're supposed to call as soon as you get in.
Oh.
M's Ted 4219. No name?
No, you're supposed to call the number, that's all.
Oh, okay.
Well, how's the new house, Earl?
Pretty good. Takes a lot of money.
Got the forms in for the patio. I'm gonna pour the cement this weekend.
Mm-hmm. Got the place fenced off yet?
Not yet, no. Most pickets cost money.
The fellows are telling me that you're doing all the work yourself, huh?
Me and the brother-in-law, yeah. Costs a lot of money, a new house.
That sounds good, Joe. Who was it?
Frank Chaney's grandfather. Says to come over right away.
7.30 a.m. It was still raining.
Ben and I drove out to the older section of the Wilshire District to the Chaney Mansion.
Represented one part of the suspect's life that we could never figure.
As a child and later as a young man,
Frank Chaney had had every advantage and comfort that a millionaire father could buy for him.
Yet for some reason, he'd settled on a career of crime.
7.45 a.m. Ben and I were shown into the main hallway of the Chaney home by the butler.
He recognized us from previous visits.
He took our hats and coats and then led us up the staircase to the master bedroom
at the far end of the second floor.
We found Chaney's 82-year-old grandfather propped up in a four-poster bed.
His face was gray and sunken.
It was a nurse in a white starched uniform standing by.
You can go, nurse. Go on.
I'll be outside. Good evening, Mr. Chaney.
Yes, yes.
You have some information for us, Mr. Chaney?
Of course. It's my call.
Sit down. Sit down.
Thank you, sir.
That hold-up yesterday, the bank robbery, I know all about it.
Has Frank contacted you?
That's like the police. Get right to the point.
Has he contacted you, sir?
Yes. Hand me that glass of water, please.
Oh, yes.
There. There you are.
Thank you. No, don't leave it on the table there.
Oh, yes.
When Frank got out of prison last year, he came to see me.
I offered him one more chance.
I told him if he decided to earn his way, he'd have all the help I could give him.
He said he would. Yes, sir.
I was a fool like everyone else. I believed him.
Any idea where Frank is now?
I gave him everything it was possible to give him.
He wrecked the family, his father's life, my life.
Everything he touched he ruined.
You know where he is now, sir?
He telephoned me day before yesterday.
He was going away, Central America.
Why didn't you notify us?
When he was going away, I thought it'd be better.
We've had enough notoriety, newspaper stories.
We need to get to South America, sir.
A Swedish ship is going to work his way.
He called from San Pedro. He's staying in some hotel there.
You don't know the name?
Find him, take him away.
Bury him someplace.
Okay, Joe. Yeah.
Thank you very much, Mr. Chaney.
Sergeant. Yes, sir?
Frank will have a gun. He'll try to use it.
Yes, sir. Kill him.
9 a.m. Ben and I went back to the office
and put in a call to the Swedish vice consulate on South Spring Street.
They told us that three days before, a man answering Chaney's description
had signed on the Swedish motor ship Southern Cross
as a member of the engine room crew.
We picked up Sergeants Thaxter and Davis and drove down to San Pedro.
The Southern Cross was still taking on cargo when we got there.
We showed Chaney's mug shot to the first mate.
You're the American?
Cameron, that's him. He signed on this trip.
Was he aboard the ship?
No, he sat up there on deck.
He was there. I guess he went below.
What if you take us to him, please?
All right.
Lindgren?
All right, yes, sir.
The gang, they mind you?
Better watch it, Ben. Yeah.
Look forward.
Through here. Maybe you better stay behind here, sir.
We'll take him. What's that?
Might be a little trouble here. Do you want to stay behind us?
All right. You must be in the engine room.
Stay ahead and turn to your left. Don't be a companion, Ben.
All right, thank you.
Come on, now watch your step, Ben.
John, down there.
What's the matter?
I don't know. It's on the...
I spotted him. All right, Chaney, hold it.
He's making a break. Come on.
Keep going topside. Hustle. Come on, up the ladder.
Look out, Joe!
Give it up, Chaney.
He's going for the gang, man.
Now I'm banned.
Stop him. Come on.
Yeah. Through the shoulder.
Yeah. Bumped his head when he fell.
Better get the cuffs on him.
Where'd everybody disappear to?
I guess you didn't notice when we came aboard.
Huh? Looked topside. See? Red flag.
Oh, yeah.
Taking on fuel, huh?
There's some of the cargo right over there.
Oh. High explosives.
The story you have just heard was true.
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On November 2nd, trial was held in Superior Court,
City and County of San Diego, State of California.
In a moment, the results of that trial...
It's amazing how many long cigarette smokers are changing to extra-mild Fatima.
Here is the actual report.
From coast to coast, extra-mild Fatima has more than doubled its smokers.
Yes, more and more smokers every day are discovering that Fatima
is the king-size cigarette that is extra-mild.
Extra-mild because it contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobacco
superbly blended to make it extra-mild, to give it a much different,
much better flavor and aroma.
Enjoy extra-mild Fatima yourself. Best of all, long cigarettes.
It's wise to smoke extra-mild Fatima.
It's wise to smoke extra-mild Fatima.
Frank Bertram Chaney was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree.
He is now awaiting execution in the lethal gas chamber
at the State Penitentiary, San Quentin, California.
Fatima cigarettes, the best of all.
Fatima cigarettes has brought you Dragnet from Los Angeles.
This is NBC, the National Broadcasting Company.