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Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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He escapes in a taxi cab.
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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.
Last Friday, August 17th, it was hot in Los Angeles.
We were working the night watch out of robbery detail.
My partner is Ben Romero, the boss is Captain Walker.
My name's Friday.
It was 8.35 p.m. when we got to the church of St. Damien, the vestibule.
That must be her playing the organ.
Yeah, I don't see any stairs.
I wonder how you get up there to the loft.
Looks like that might be the sexton over there.
Well, let's ask.
Excuse me, sir.
We're looking for an Ernestine Matthews.
Understand she's the organist here at the church.
That's her playing up there now, playing over a few pieces for Sunday.
Could you tell us how to get up to the choir loft, sir?
Surely, through that door over there.
Follow the stairway straight up.
Can't miss.
Thank you.
Sure has been a long time.
What's that?
Climbing stairs to a choir loft.
I sang a lot in church when I was a kid.
The boys were brown.
All right.
They finally threw me out.
The boys changed.
Yes, did you want something?
Are you Mrs. Ernestine Matthews?
Yes, did you come about the new choir books?
No, ma'am.
Police officers.
Oh, can I help you?
It's about your husband, Miss Matthews.
Bert, what about him?
Has Bert done something?
He was hurt, ma'am.
Well, I don't understand.
Bert's working at store.
What do you want?
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.
He was hurt, ma'am.
I don't understand.
Bert's working at store.
What do you mean he was hurt?
There was a hole there.
Dear God, my husband.
Was he hurt bad?
Yes, ma'am.
Where is he?
I've got to go to him.
Is he in pain?
No, ma'am.
What are you trying to say?
Dear God, tell me the truth.
Which hospital is he in?
They took him to Georgia Street.
They helped him all they could.
You're not trying to tell me Bert's dead?
You're not trying to tell me that, are you?
In the past 16 days, seven armed robberies had been committed, apparently by the same
man.
The suspect was described by victims as tall, heavily built, and very nervous.
He was armed.
It's cold logic that every suspect who's armed in the commission of a robbery is a potential
killer.
It's a fact that's been proved a hundred times over.
The man we were after had proven it again.
We'd used every means at our disposal to identify him through the stats office, the record bureau,
and fingerprints, through informants and witnesses.
We'd gotten out an APB on him, containing his description and his method of operation.
We'd maintained stakeouts.
We hadn't reached him in time.
Early that evening, a downtown grocery store had been held up.
One of the clerks, 31-year-old Bert Matthews, failed to empty the cash register quickly
enough and the bandits shot him three times through the chest.
He died almost instantly and the holdup man escaped.
There was only one witness, another clerk who had been on duty in the store with Matthews
at the time of the holdup.
His name was Jess Tallman.
He was brought to the city hall where we questioned him further.
Did you see Bert's wife?
Does she know?
Yeah, we dropped off at the church on the way in.
He was over to her sister's place.
Still can't get it through my head.
One minute I was talking to Bert, next minute he was dead.
It's kind of hard to take, you know?
I'd like to go over that description of the holdup man.
You were pretty upset out there at the store.
Do you feel up to it now?
Yeah, I'm okay.
All right, now you just take it easy.
Tell us everything you remember and take all the time you need.
Well, I know he was a big guy, over six foot anyway, I'm sure of that.
He had a good build too.
Wasn't skinny.
How about his face, Jess?
Did you get a good look at it?
Yeah, I did.
It was thin and he kept working it around, you know, twitching like guy.
I was bloody nervous.
Can you tell us anything else about it?
He was young, about 21 I'd say.
He had dark-colored eyes.
That's about all I'd swear to, Sergeant.
He had a hat on, I know that.
How about the rest of his clothing?
I wouldn't be sure about it.
Could have been a gray coat, blue coat, I don't know.
I wouldn't want to give you a bum stare.
Did you get a look at the gun?
I couldn't miss that.
It was a big one.
It wasn't shiny, it was kind of dark blue color.
I could see the guy now walking in the store and pointing at Bert.
What time was that again, Jess, when the bandits showed up?
Just about 7.30.
Bert was behind the counter, I was in the back stacking the shelves.
The guy just walked in, pointed the gun, said, give me the dough.
I heard him say that.
Mm-hmm.
Bert was kind of surprised.
He just stood there for a minute and the guy said, hurry up, give me the dough.
And Bert said, okay, you can have everything.
And he reached to get the dough from the cash register.
That's when the guy did it.
He hit Bert right in the chest.
What happened then?
Bert moaned a little and fell down on the floor.
I got so mad I started running for the guy, but he swung around at me with a gun and said,
stay where you are.
Oh.
I didn't want to get killed, I stopped.
You can't blame me for that, can you?
Did you follow the man when he left?
Well, you see, he backed out of the store and when he got to the sidewalk, he jammed the
gun in his pocket and ran down the street.
I ran out after him, saw him jump in a taxi cab and take off.
Did you get the cab's number?
Well, he was too far away for that, at least halfway down the block.
I know somebody else must have been driving it, though.
How do you know that?
The cab was already moving when the holdup guy jumped in.
He got in the front seat.
How do you know it was the front seat and not the back?
The way those cab doors open, you know, front doors swing out to the left, back ones swing
out to the right.
That ties in, Joe.
He used the same M.O. on those holdups last week.
Yeah.
You got anything else to add, Jess?
Anything you think we ought to know?
It's about the size of it, Sergeant.
You don't think I'm yellow, do you?
Well, how do you mean?
I mean, because I stopped when he pointed the gun at me.
Guess I should have grabbed him, but that gun looked as big as a cannon.
Let's face it, I'm not that much of a hero.
Well, I'll put in with you, Jess.
Neither am I.
Along with a team of men from Homicide Detail, we continued our investigation of the holdup
and killing.
The ballistics reported that the slugs taken from the body of Burt Matthews had possibly
been fired from a.38 caliber Colt revolver.
The slugs were in good condition for identification.
All the possible suspects picked from the mug books by the victims had been checked
out.
All of them had been cleared.
Fingerprints left by the bandit at the scene of his latest crime were checked out.
No make.
We tried to check the taxi cab used in the escape.
We got nowhere.
The morning after the Matthews killing, we got a call from Sheriff's Homicide.
We went across the street and checked with Inspector Bowers.
Either one of you remember that case about six months ago, the Harry Solomon killing?
Oh, yeah, Inspector.
It's pretty vague right now.
Your men handled it, the Connick case?
Yeah.
Let me lay it out for you.
It's just possible that Mike tie in with that killing you fellas had last night.
And what's the angle?
Harry Solomon was a taxi cab driver.
The night of February 26th, somebody saw him pick up a fare at Sunset and Highland about
10.30 p.m.
That's the last time he was seen alive.
Yeah, I think I remember.
The next morning, we found Solomon's body in a ditch out in the valley.
Two 38 slugs in his head.
Found his cab a few yards up the road, abandoned.
Killer used a 38.
Same kind of gun used on last night's job.
Here's something else that ties in.
Yeah?
A description of the passenger Solomon picked up at Sunset and Highland the night he was
murdered.
The last fare he ever handled.
White male American.
Over six feet tall, heavy build.
Age, 20, 21, dark eyes.
Had a dark suit on and a hat.
Patches up all the way down the line.
You had a robbery motive figured on the Solomon killing, didn't you?
That's right.
Except for a five dollar bill hidden in his wallet, Solomon didn't have a penny of his
receipts for the night.
Might have been another reason behind the killing besides that.
Yeah?
It's just barely possible Solomon might have known the holdup man, the guy who killed him.
How do you figure?
Solomon had been a cabbie for 14 years before he was murdered.
From this holdup man's M.O. using cabs for a getaway car, it's possible he might have
been a cab driver at some time around it.
You mean if the killer got in the cab and told Solomon Solomon recognized him, was suspicious
of him?
That's right.
Could have been reason enough for him to kill Solomon.
I know there's a lot of coulds and ifs and maybes in it, but I thought you might be interested.
Well, we'll check it out first thing.
How are your men coming on the Solomon case?
Progress is pretty slow.
Well, we'll keep you posted on anything new.
Fine.
If we can help, let me know.
Right.
Two sets of 38 slugs.
What do you think?
Let's ask the crime lab.
We put in a request to Russ Camp and Ballistics to check the 38 slugs found in taxi driver
Solomon's body against those found in the body of grocery clerk, Burke Matthews.
Then we contacted the special agent at the taxi cab company.
We asked him for pictures of all their drivers employed by the company during the past year
who were six feet in height or over.
He told us that they'd have a file ready for us the following morning.
We drove back to the office and checked in with Russ Camp at the crime lab.
He was examining the 38 slugs under the comparison line.
Just a few more minutes, fellas.
Have a chair.
Yeah, all right.
Not much luck so far.
No.
No.
Well, that's it.
Yeah.
No make.
These slugs come from two different guns.
That night, two more armed robberies were committed.
One at a liquor store, the other at a cafe.
In both cases, the holdup man escaped in a taxi cab.
The description of the man who robbed the liquor store matched that of the bandit who
shot and killed Burke Matthews.
The big switch came when we checked the cafe holdup.
There, the victims described the suspect as short and fat with dark blonde hair.
He had a deep scar on his chin.
During the robbery, this suspect had become so nervous that he'd dropped his gun, but
he'd succeeded in getting outside and escaping in a taxi cab before it could be apprehended.
The gun was taken back to latent fingerprints and checked.
Was clean.
Russ Camp checked it through ballistics.
Some days are like this, fellas.
What do you mean?
That cab driver, Solomon, was shot with a.38.
Yeah.
The Matthews was shot with a.38, a different one though.
Mm-hmm.
It's got a bandit drop tonight.
It's a.38 too.
Yeah, we know that.
What are you getting at?
Doesn't match either case.
The next morning, we started working one of the few leads we had left.
We drove down to the taxi cab company and collected the pictures of all the drivers
that they employed during the past year who were six feet in height or over.
There were 87 of them.
We started checking them out.
It's what the working detective calls legwork.
It's slow and it's tedious and you're not sure it's going to amount to anything even
by the time you finish.
Two nights later, the taxi cab bandit hit again, his first repeater, a restaurant on
South Figueroa.
He'd robbed the same place less than three weeks before.
Ben and I interviewed the manager, a Mr. Cavallo.
Tell you, Sergeant, I can't take any more of it.
Twice in one month.
Yes, sir.
Could we talk back there in one of the booths?
Oh, yeah.
Come on.
You got a good look at the man, did you, Mr. Cavallo?
Two feet from him, memorized his face from the first time.
It's no joke, you know.
So I have no time for the customers.
I'm too busy opening the cash box for that thief.
Here, sit down.
Thanks, sir.
When you're positive, it's the same man who robbed you before.
There's no question there, huh?
None, I'm positive.
And he used the same M.O. too.
Yeah, sure.
M.O.?
What's that?
Oh, excuse me.
I mean, he used the same approach, the same method of operation.
Everything was the same.
The man, the gun, the taxi cab, everything.
You didn't get the number of the cab.
I looked for it.
I didn't see any.
Must cover it up some way.
Mm-hmm.
We've got some pictures here, Mr. Cavallo.
I'd like to have you look at them.
Just tell us if you recognize any of them.
I won't do any good.
Hmm?
I already did that.
They showed me pictures the last time.
This is a different lot, sir.
Oh, all right.
Quite a few of them.
Like to have you check each one of them carefully, if you would.
Just take your time.
Yeah, we can't sit here without coffee.
Natalie!
Well, I wouldn't...
Natalie!
I don't care for any of that.
I'm just gonna sit here and...
Natalie!
Yeah?
Coffee, three cups.
Okay.
Now, where do I start?
Well, these right here, if you'd just check these over, please.
Uh-huh.
Uh, no, not him.
Uh-uh.
Mm, not him either.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
Oh, it's hot.
Uh, no, not that one.
No.
Is that all?
No, I have some more here.
Oh.
Hey, that's an ugly-looking guy, huh?
Look at that scar.
Do they look familiar?
No.
Better check with a skipper when we're finished here.
Yeah, it's been a couple hours, hasn't it?
You're a lousy, no-good thief.
Sir?
Right here, this one.
That's the guy.
You're sure?
I opened my cash box twice for him.
I'd know his face in a million.
Morris Copley, age 21, description matches.
Let's go, Ben.
Thanks, Mr. Colala.
It's only 40 minutes since the robbery.
He's probably not even home yet.
What can you do?
We'll wait up.
Ten-thirty p.m.
We parked down the street from 527 Dayton Avenue,
a two-story white stucco apartment house.
We checked the names on the mailboxes.
Morris Copley's wasn't on any of them.
We rang for the manager.
Copley?
Morris Copley, no.
He doesn't live here.
Never heard of him.
I wonder if you'd take a look at this, ma'am.
Hmm?
This picture, ma'am.
You ever seen this man before?
Well, let me get over here in the light.
Let me see now.
No, he doesn't live here.
And you've never seen him before?
No, I didn't say that.
I just said he doesn't live here.
And you have seen him before?
I believe I might have, yes.
Matter of fact, I'm sure of it.
It's a friend of Mr. Tobin's, Apartment 5.
Comes to visit Mr. Tobin every now and then.
Is this Mr. Tobin in now, ma'am?
We'd like to talk to him.
No, I'm afraid not.
He works nights, never comes home for 2 a.m.
He's a cab driver.
You are listening to Dragnet,
authentic stories of your police force in action.
Oh, no.
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Start enjoying Fatima tomorrow.
Ten forty-five p.m.
In the presence of the manager,
we went in search of the apartment registered in the name of Ralph Tobin,
the man who was supposed to be a friend of the suspect, Morris Copley.
We found nothing that would tie either of them up with the robberies and the killings.
Before the manager returned to her apartment,
we instructed her to say nothing about our being there in case Tobin or Copley returned.
We called the office and told them we'd received an identification on Morris Copley.
They checked them both through R&I.
Neither had any criminal record.
They got on an APB on Copley.
We waited.
Midnight came.
Nothing happened.
One a.m.
One thirty.
Still no sign of either man.
One forty-five.
Somebody's coming around back, Joe.
Kitchen door.
Maury, you back already?
Hold it right there, mister.
Police officers.
Oh, Fanny.
Who are you? Is this a stick-up?
Police officers.
I'm just cleaning, Joe.
What's it all about?
What do you want?
You're looking for Ralph Tobin?
That's right. This is my apartment.
You know, Morris Copley?
Copley?
Yeah, I know him. You're looking for him. He's not here.
I know that. Where is he?
Wish I knew. I'm looking for him, too. He owes me money.
Copley's a pretty steady visitor here, is that right?
He was, till I lent him that sixty-five dollars.
I haven't seen him since. He took off.
When was that?
When? About two weeks ago.
Yeah, just about.
Look, you mind if I sit down? I'm a little nervous.
Go ahead.
Kind of upsets me, you know.
Why are you looking for Maury?
I'd like to have you repeat what you said when you came in that door.
What I said? I asked who you were, didn't I?
No, I mean before that.
I said, I don't think I know what you're getting at, officer.
You said Maury? You're back already? Isn't that what you said?
Yeah, I guess I did. I guess I thought Maury came back to pay me the sixty-five he borrowed.
You didn't make it sound like that, Tobin. I got the idea you were expecting.
Expecting him?
I haven't seen Maury in two weeks. Maybe three. He took me for sixty-five dollars.
All right, that's enough small talk, mister. Now, Copley's in deep. You're gonna match him if we don't get a straight story.
There's some cans of beer in the refrigerator. Let's have one around, huh?
Skip the beer. Where's Copley?
I'll swear on the Bible if you want me to. I don't know.
Look, if Maury pulled anything heavy, I'm not in on it.
Ben, you want to check with the manager. Ask her when's the last time she saw Copley here.
Yeah, right.
Now, wait a minute, officers. I want to cooperate.
Maury's in deep. That's his fault, not mine. That's right, isn't it?
That's right. Now, where is he?
I don't know. That's the truth. I'll tell you something else.
I wasn't squaring. I saw Maury early tonight, six o'clock.
Came here and borrowed another five from him.
But you don't know where he is now.
No. I said, sure, like a can of beer, if you don't mind.
All right, sit still. I'll get it for you.
You sure you won't have one?
No, not me.
No, thanks. I don't want any.
There you go.
Good cold beer.
I like it when I get nervous. It always calms me down.
Hey, Tobin.
Yeah, officer.
You haven't taken your hat off.
Oh, I was nervous. I guess I forgot. There.
Your hair always been dark blonde?
Since I was a kid, yeah. Why?
How about that scar on your chin? It's a pretty deep one.
The beers sure are good.
I asked you about the scar.
It's kind of embarrassing. I got a little high one night.
I fell off a merry-go-round. Big night.
Now I've heard everything.
We had a robbery report a couple nights ago, Tobin.
Hold-up man was just about your height and weight.
Yeah?
Dark blonde hair. Had a scar on his chin, too.
I'm afraid you got a wrong slide, officer.
I work my cab every night of the week. It wasn't me.
Mind if we have a look at your car, son?
How'd you know I had a car?
We didn't. Let's give it a look, shall we?
Why do you want to look at it?
You ever need anything to hide, have you?
Of course not. I don't like more A's, O's, and trouble.
O's and the lamb.
You'll probably think it's funny when you check the glove compartment in my car.
Will we?
Yeah, you will.
Why is that?
I keep a gun in there.
You know how many cab drivers get shot. A guy can't be too careful.
What kind of gun do you have, Tobin?
Revolver. Regular revolver.
What caliber?
38. Why?
2.30 a.m.
We searched his car, picked up his 38-caliber revolver,
and then we drove Ralph Tobin back to the office where he was detained for questioning.
We had a stakeout placed on his apartment.
Russ Camp and Ballistics checked Tobin's gun against the slugs
which had taken the lives of Harry Solomon and Burt Matthews.
It was found beyond the question of a doubt that his gun had been used in the Solomon killing.
We confronted Tobin with the evidence.
He started talking.
He told us that Copley was responsible for the murder of both Solomon and Matthews,
that Copley had borrowed his gun for the Solomon job.
In all the robberies except one, he described himself only as the accomplice.
He drove the getaway taxi cab.
The only occasion he tried to handle the actual holdup was at the cafe
where he became so nervous that he had dropped his gun.
Before he was booked on suspicion of murder, Tobin told us that Morris Copley still had two 38 revolvers in his possession.
He insisted he had no idea where Copley was.
Ben handled the questioning while a stenographer took Tobin's statement.
I contacted Inspector Bowers and informed him of our progress.
11 a.m. I got back to the squad room.
Hi. Did you check back through that personnel record we got from the cab company?
Yeah, I got half an idea, I think.
Yeah?
See here on Copley's application for the job?
Well, I'm sure we checked out all those references. They don't go anywhere.
No, I mean this right here. Married? Yes. Children, one daughter. Age, four months.
When this application is dated May 6th, that means his baby was born in February.
Yeah, sure. Copley was working here then, so it's 10 to 1 the baby was born in a local hospital.
That's what I mean. If we find the right hospital to the doctor, they could lead us to him.
There's the phone book. Let's go.
From noon until 4 p.m. we called every hospital, sanitarium, clinic, and rest home listed in the book.
The answers were the same. No record of confinement for a Mrs. Morris Copley.
That seemed like a good idea. Who are you calling now?
We've got one more in the county hospital.
Well, this is Sergeant Friday, police department, robbery detail. Yes.
I'd like to find out if you have any record of confinement for a Mrs. Morris Copley.
No, that's Copley. C as in Charlie. Yes, thank you.
He might have sent his wife out of town to have him, baby.
That's possible. Yeah. Mm-hmm. 1118. Thank you. 1118 Rochester, Copley's aunt.
Let's go.
430 p.m. Together with Olson and Thaxter from homicide detail, we drove out to 1118 Rochester Avenue in the Crenshaw district.
The house was vacant. From a neighbor, we learned that Copley's aunt had moved two weeks before.
We got her address from one of her friends in the neighborhood and finally located her at work in a beauty shop on Melrose Avenue.
We posed as traffic investigators. The aunt told us she thought we could find her nephew Morris at home, an address on East 13th Street.
6 p.m. We located the house and parked the cars a half a block away.
As we approached the house on foot, we saw a light burning in one of the windows on the left side of the house.
Thaxter and Olson covered the back. At a given signal, they entered the back door. Ben and I went through the front.
It's empty. Yeah. Thaxter.
Nothing back here, Joe. Empty. That's great.
Looks like somebody passed him a tip-off just in time. Look at the mess this place is in.
We got out in a hurry, all right?
Hey, what's going on here? What do you men think you're doing?
Police officers. Your name?
Silvera, one of the neighbors. You looking for the Copleys?
When did they leave?
Twenty minutes ago, I guess, in an awful hurry. What's the trouble?
You know where they were going?
No, but you might try Mr. Copley's aunt. She lives over in Rochester.
They're not there.
Well, have you tried his sister's house?
Six forty-five p.m. The neighbor Silvera directed us to the home of Morris Copley's sister, a small frame cottage on the edge of Beverly Hills.
The lights were on in the living room, but the shades were drawn.
Thaxter and Olson made their way quietly around to the back. Ben and I went up the front steps and rang the bell.
Yes? What do you want?
You, Miss Copley?
Yes. What is it?
Police officers, ma'am. I'm sorry.
Oh, he isn't here. Maury isn't here.
We know he's here.
The living room's empty. He must be in the back, Joe.
You can't. He's in the bedroom with the baby. He's got a gun. You can't go in there.
Where's the bedroom?
At the end of the hall, at that door. He was sleeping. I think he's awake now.
The baby close to him?
In the same bed. She's propped up on pillows right next to him. He's got that gun with him. Don't go in, please.
Where's the bed situated in the room?
It's right inside the door to the left. Please don't go in. He won't care what happens to the baby.
Ben, I'll open the door. You hit the light switch and cover me. Watch the baby.
You'd better stay here, Miss Copley. Your baby won't get hurt.
Let's go.
All right. Let's go in.
All right. Drop it, you.
Drop the gun, Ben.
You good?
All right. Come on.
I got it, Joe. All right, Copley. Get him up. Come on up.
Joe?
My baby. My baby.
Just a little frightened, ma'am. She's all right.
I'll kill you, Mary. You tell them where to find us, didn't you? I'll kill you for that.
I swear. I didn't just swear.
Lousy dame. Nobody else knows she's the one who told you, didn't she?
No.
Then who did? Who told you?
You're looking at her.
What do you mean?
Your baby.
The story you have just heard was true.
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On December 16th, trial was held in Superior Court,
City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
In a moment, the results of that trial.
And now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you.
The working detective knows that there is one mark of identification that never changes.
A man's fingerprints.
The suspect may change his identity, but he's not a suspect.
He's a suspect.
A mark of identification that never changes. A man's fingerprints.
The suspect may change his appearance in many ways, but his fingerprints always remain the same.
A mark of identity that cannot be changed.
When you compare Fatima with other long cigarettes, the difference is quality.
A mark of identity which never changes.
And Fatima is extra mild.
If you're a long cigarette smoker like I am, smoke Fatima.
They cost the same, but in Fatima the difference is quality.
More than half the stone.
Morris John Copley and Ralph Edward Tobin were tried and convicted of murder in the first degree, two counts.
They were both sentenced to be executed in the lethal gas chamber of the State Penitentiary, San Quentin, California.
You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files.
Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department.
Department. Fatima cigarettes, the best of all long cigarettes, has brought you
Dragnet portions transcribed from Los Angeles. Coming up, We the People.
Tomorrow enjoy the life of Riley on NBC.