The story you are about to hear is true.
All of the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned a missing person's detail.
A wealthy businessman in your city drops from sight.
There's no trace of him.
There's no apparent reason for his disappearance.
Your job, find him.
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 transcribed from official
police files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
It was Saturday, February 6th.
It was foggy in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of missing persons.
My partner is Ben Romero.
The boss is Thad Brown, chief of detectives.
My name's Friday.
I was on the way back from communications and it was 8.15 a.m. when I got to room 67A.
Missing persons.
Hello, Joe.
Oh, hi, Vance.
How you coming on the Jarrett case?
Oh, nothing.
It's a dead end so far.
Yeah, it's a tough one.
You're right.
Joe?
Yeah, Ben.
Just got a call from Evans Harbor Division.
They found Jarrett's car.
Where?
Parked at the end of Pier 6, abandoned.
Found about 7 o'clock this morning.
Yeah, they checked the car over?
Mm-hmm.
They found Jarrett's coat in the front seat.
Letter in the pocket.
Yeah.
Suicide note.
John Keith Jarrett was a prominent and prosperous man.
He was a well-known civic figure and social activist.
As a young man, he'd inherited a moderately successful business from his father and over
a period of 20 years built it into a million-dollar concern.
He was apparently happily married to an attractive woman and he was the father of two grown children,
a son, Keith, age 26, and a daughter, Evelyn, age 23.
According to his friends, business associates, employees, and advisors, there was no logical
reason for Jarrett taking his own life.
The letter found in the abandoned car on Pier 6 was written by a young man named John
Keith.
The car on Pier 6 was brought downtown on a handwriting check.
It matched perfectly with the other specimens of Jarrett's writing.
There was no sign of the gun which Jarrett was supposed to have carried.
9.35 a.m.
Ben and I drove down to San Pedro, boarded police boat number one, and joined with officers
Brett, Hanby, and Treder in a two-hour search of the area around Pier 6.
We found nothing.
11.40 a.m.
The launch headed back for the dock.
I can't make it out.
Not a trace.
Well, it might take a little time.
Pretty fair chance that the tide swept the body out of the area.
It's still turned up.
This fog's not helping much.
Yeah.
Maybe I'm just onry this morning, Joe.
I sure can't buy this thing the way it stands.
I'll put in with you there.
Jarrett disappears Thursday night after work.
His car doesn't turn up till this morning.
If he made up his mind to jump off the pier, why'd he stall around an extra day and a half?
I don't know.
How about Miss Jarrett?
When's she due back?
She's flying in late tonight from Sacramento.
We can check her in the morning.
Oh.
Now, looks like we're just about in.
Yeah.
Well, the crime lab ought to be through checking the car, huh?
Yeah, just about, yeah.
These boys on PD-1 sure can handle this thing, can't they?
Sure can.
Well, I'm going to call in from the phone on the dock.
You want to stand by here a minute?
Okay.
Watch your step, George Leper.
Yeah, all right.
Michigan 5211, please.
All right.
Crime lab, please.
Riley, Joe Friday.
Did you look over that car?
Mm-hmm.
Where?
Oh.
Yeah, we'll check with you.
Right, thanks.
How'd they do, Joe, anything?
Jarrett's gun, the crime lab boys finally found it.
Where?
In his car.
It was hidden up under the dashboard.
Yeah?
Gun's been fired recently.
Two empty shells.
How the recovered gun might tie in with Jarrett's disappearance and the suicide note, we had
no idea.
When the car was found abandoned at the end of Pier 6, the obvious guess was that Jarrett
had taken his life by drowning.
If that was the case, what accounted for the two shells in his gun?
Why was it carefully hidden under the dashboard of the car after it was used?
Why were the only fingerprints on it those of Jarrett?
Together with Sergeant John Epperson, Ben and I spent the rest of the day interviewing
the friends and business associates of the missing man.
The answers were the same.
Not one of them could think of a good reason why Jarrett would take his life.
More than half of them thought that he'd met with some kind of foul play.
Late that night, Mrs. Jarrett arrived back in the city.
The next morning, Sunday, Ben and I drove out to the mansion in Bel Air to talk to her.
She was a pale, middle-aged woman.
There was a strong smell of liquor on her breath.
Just fixing these flowers.
Not very good to keep them out of water very long, you know.
Yes, ma'am. You go right ahead with it.
Would you have some brandy as a place of help?
No, thank you.
I think I might stand a little brandy.
Helps sometimes in the morning.
Sergeant, I'd like to have you tell me the truth.
What do you think has happened to my husband?
Well, that's just what we're trying to find out, Mrs. Jarrett.
All we have to go on is that letter that we found in his car.
Oh. I can't believe there's anything in that.
Jack and I have been married 31 years.
He'd never take his own life. I know him that well.
The letter was in his handwriting, ma'am. We've confirmed that.
That's why I say it's so confusing.
Look. Not a gorgeous rose.
Will Scarlet, they call it.
It's gorgeous.
Yes.
Would it be possible for us to talk to your son and daughter, Mrs. Jarrett?
It's just a routine investigation.
Well, I'd rather not have Keith or Evelyn brought into this, if you don't mind.
Are you sure you wouldn't care for some brandy?
No, thank you. Thank you.
I don't mean to sound arbitrary, ma'am, but this case isn't exactly trivial.
And I'm afraid that your son and daughter will have to be brought into it sooner or later.
Oh, no? Can't be helped, I guess.
If you like, I'll give you their addresses.
Keith lives in Hollywood, and my daughter Evelyn has an apartment near Malibu.
He's the one married?
No, she's single now. Evelyn's been divorced.
Any trouble between you and your husband? I mean, any recent arguments?
Yeah.
Not recent, no. We didn't get along too well, that's all.
Well, you don't think any family trouble could account for Mr. Jarrett's disappearance, huh?
I don't think so.
Jack and I rarely argued. We didn't get along, that's all.
It was no worse last week than it was ten years ago.
Oh, he has his work.
I have my interests.
Worked out as well as a lot of marriages, I guess.
I'd better get on with these flowers.
No offense intended, ma'am, but you don't seem too disturbed by what's happened. Suicide note and all?
No. Yes, I don't.
You don't think this marriage trouble that you mentioned a little while ago could lead to your husband's suicide?
Oh, it didn't mean that much to Jack.
Good or bad, his family never meant that much to him.
Huh?
It was always the company business making money. We never worked together.
Jack didn't care about having a real family. Didn't mean that much to him. He wrecked everything I ever wanted.
I don't bore you with a story.
Do you know of any business troubles that might have upset him?
No. Jack never discussed business with me.
He had his own interests, the children had their own interests.
I guess I have mine.
Ma'am.
I drink, Sergeant. It's something to do.
I drink every day in the week. I drink quite a bit.
It's only been since the children left.
I blame them. Jack didn't care.
I guess I don't care myself anymore. We never were a family.
Do you know if your husband's seen your son or daughter recently?
He never visits them. He never had anything in common with them.
You still don't think that this trouble has any connection with what might have happened to Mr. Jerrida?
Maybe. I don't think so. Doesn't seem to matter that much to me.
How do you mean?
Doesn't matter, Sergeant. I don't hate Jack. I don't love him.
I just don't care. That's all.
Before we left the Bel Air Mansion, we got the addresses of the son and daughter in Silver Miss Jerrida's room. No leads.
One p.m. Ben and I drove down to Malibu to interview the daughter, Evelyn Jerrida.
She lived in a small, modernistic cottage bordering on the beach. She was attractive and well-dressed.
At the age of 23, she'd been twice married and twice divorced.
She sat on the sofa filing her fingernails while we talked to her.
I don't mean to be rude, Sergeant. I have a date at 2.30. I don't want to be late.
We'll try to make it as quick as possible, Mr. Ernie. We talked to your mother this morning.
She told us you haven't seen too much of your father the last two years.
Yes, that's right. None of us were ever really close to him.
When's the last time that you saw your father, Miss Jerrida?
Well, up until last Thursday night. I hadn't seen him for about five months, I guess.
Oh, you saw your father last Thursday night, was it?
Yes. He called me that afternoon and said he wanted to have dinner with me and my brother, Keith.
Did you have dinner with him?
Yes. A little Spanish place out on Millrose. Keith was late, as usual.
Wasn't that pretty unusual for your father, having known your brother get together with him for dinner?
It didn't happen very often. Mother probably told you about that.
Well, how did he seem that night? Did you notice anything unusual about him?
No, he was pretty much the same as always. He asked Keith and me how we were getting along, if we needed any money.
He didn't mention anything about leaving the city, going on a trip, maybe?
No, he didn't. We had dinner, a few drinks, then I left.
What time was that, Miss Jerrida?
A little after midnight, I think. Keith and my father stayed on. They said they were going to have a few more drinks.
I see.
Care to say that?
No, thank you very much. Here you are, Dad.
Thank you.
How was your father when you left him, Miss Jerrida? Pretty good moving?
Oh, he and Keith were arguing, as usual. After a few drinks, they always argue.
Anything serious?
I don't know. Keith had some debts. He wanted Dad to pay them off.
There's one thing I'd like to ask you, Sergeant.
Yeah?
I read the story in the paper, that gun you found in my father's car. Was it an inflated revolver, a.32?
Yes, that's right. There were two shells fired.
Funny. Dad hasn't had that gun for a year. The reason I know is because after my divorce, I moved into this place alone.
I thought it'd be a good idea to have a gun around, so I asked my father for his.
Yeah?
He told me he'd given it away already. He didn't have any more use for it.
Who'd he give it to, you know?
He told me he gave it to my brother, Keith. That was almost a year ago.
Well?
It must be a mistake. Keith had the gun. How could they find it in my father's car?
Well, maybe Keith can tell us.
As soon as we left Evelyn's yard, we drove to a public phone booth, and Ben put in a call to the Green Castle Apartments in Beverly Hills, where Keith Jarrett was living.
There was no answer. Ben called the manager of the apartment.
Yes, sir. How's that?
When did you say?
I say, all right, thank you. Bye.
Maybe we've got something.
What, sir?
Jarrett's son doesn't live there anymore. The manager says he moved in a hurry.
Yeah, when?
Thursday night.
You are listening to Dragnet.
Sunday, February 7th, 4 p.m. Ben and I drove to the apartment vacated by Keith Jarrett and checked it over. No leads.
We called Mrs. Jarrett and her daughter Evelyn. They had no idea of Keith's whereabouts.
Mrs. Jarrett suggested that we call a fashionable tennis club.
Yes, sir.
And what did you say?
We called Mrs. Jarrett and her daughter Evelyn. They had no idea of Keith's whereabouts. Mrs. Jarrett suggested that we call a fashionable tennis club out in Hollywood, to which his son belonged.
There they told us that Keith Jarrett was scheduled to play in a tournament match on their courts the following morning. Monday, February 8th, 1030 a.m. We checked in at the tennis club.
Mr. Jarrett, is this the apartment?
No, I talked to the manager of the desk. He said Keith Jarrett is around here someplace. He's having a boy paging and send him over to her.
Okay. I wonder if this is where he moved after he left the apartment.
No, I talked to the clerk of the desk. They don't have living quarters here. And that's sure a beautiful stretch along.
Yeah.
I wonder if they have any trouble with Gopher.
Nice shot.
Mr. Jarrett, is your gentleman looking for me?
Oh, yeah. Police officers, Jarrett, would like to talk to you for a few minutes if you don't mind.
Oh, not at all. A match coming up. Yeah, I got time. What can I do for you?
It's about your father, Jarrett. We've been assigned to the case. Thought you might be able to help us out.
Oh, yeah. I'll tell you anything I know. Figure suicide. Kind of unusual. We haven't spent much time to figure it out.
The last couple of years, my father and I didn't get along too well.
How do you seem to be Thursday night? All right?
Yeah, pretty much the same as always. We ate, had a few drinks. That was about the size of it.
What time did you leave the restaurant, do you remember?
Oh, one, one thirty, I guess.
Did your father leave with you?
Yeah, that's right. We drove to my place for nightcap, talked a little, and then he left.
What did you talk about with him?
Same old thing. He tried to argue me into taking a job with a company. He's been trying to sell me out for years.
I never could see it.
What kind of work do you do now, Jarrett?
Tennis.
How's that?
I play tennis. All of the tournaments. I like it pretty well. My father never could see it. He calls his tennis funds.
I see. You don't have a regular job that you work at?
No, that's what we always argue about. I like tennis, though. I figure if you've got the money and you don't have to work, you might as well be doing something else.
Hey, you found a scare for sticking your nose in?
No, thank you.
Excuse me.
You know, I've been doing pretty well since I shrank from my backhand. I'm seated fourth in this tournament.
That's so.
Pretty good life, all in all. A lot of fresh air. I've seen girls around, been to lots of people.
You still live in town, Jarrett?
My friend and I rent a place in Hollywood. Just moved there.
When'd you move?
Sometime last week. Why?
Thursday night?
Yeah, that's right. Thursday night. Is that supposed to mean something?
You left pretty much in a hurry, didn't you?
I guess so, yeah.
Mind telling us why?
Look, let's go back in the lounge.
Okay.
I'm still lying, sir.
A little more privacy, no use advertising.
What's that?
I got quite a few bills around town that need paying. I tried to get my father to cover them when I saw them. Thursday night.
He turned me down, so I figured the best thing to do was move. I'd lose some of the bill collectors for a while anyway.
Do you usually notify your family when you move?
Well, I'm going to let them know. I haven't gotten around to it yet. I don't think I get it, all these questions.
Just routines, Jarrett. We understand that your father gave you a gun about a year ago, a.32 revolver, nickel plated?
Yeah, that's right.
Well, if you had the gun, how come it was found in your father's car?
Because he asked me for it back. Well, it must have been months, six weeks ago.
You say why he wanted it back?
No, I didn't ask him. I dropped it off one day when I was going by his office. You can check with his secretary.
Mr. Butler, sir, if you don't mind, I'm going to run. I've got that doubles match coming up.
Just one more question, Jarrett. Can you think of a good reason why your father would want to take his own life?
Just one.
Yeah?
You met my mother?
During the next three weeks, besides checking on dozens of other missing persons' calls, we continued pushing the search for John Keith Jarrett.
One by one, we eliminated the possibilities.
Jarrett's personal physician told us that after a recent examination, he considered his patient to be in sound physical and mental health.
We rechecked Jarrett's business rating. His company was in excellent financial condition. His bank statements were gone over.
Nothing showed there. We talked to Jarrett's lawyer. He could think of nothing to account for his client's disappearance or possible suicide.
We went back and retraced our steps.
Outside of the gun found in Jarrett's car, which tied in with nothing, there was no hint of fucking involved.
Two months went by. We kept pressing the search. We got nowhere. Thursday, April 11th, I had lunch at the Federal Cafe, and then I took our car, 80K, to the police garage for servicing.
1.15 p.m. I checked back in at the office.
John.
Hi.
Got something.
Yeah?
A Jarrett case. This cake bag just came through from Washington.
Let me see it.
Yeah, look here.
Here you go. Walter John Mitchell, Port Santa Tomas.
Santa Tomas.
Yeah, we've been there. A little fishing town north of San Diego.
Oh, yeah, sure, sure.
Walter Mitchell, small boat operator, applied for a Coast Guard pass, March 18th.
Let me see. Check the fingerprints on Mitchell's application. Found to be the same as fingerprints on missing persons' bulletin. Well, how about that?
Yes, we made it. John Jarrett, Walter Mitchell.
Same man, huh?
2.00 p.m. Then I checked out of the office, got in the car, and drove down the coast to Port Santa Tomas, a small fishing town with a population of 250.
On his application for a Coast Guard pass, the man who signed himself Walter John Mitchell listed his address as Pier 2, Birth Number 11.
When we checked there, the berth was empty. We talked to one of the villagers fishing from the pier.
He pointed to a fishing craft lying halfway out in the bay and identified it as the Blanche S, Mitchell's boat. Said he was having engine trouble.
The man told us that he had a small boat that he'd rent out for $2. We took him up on it.
Sure hot down here. I think I'll get rid of this coat.
Yeah, it's a good idea.
Yep.
I'll give you a hand there, Capace.
Okay.
Watch your long pull.
Want me to take over for a while?
No, we're almost there now.
Yeah, easy now. We're coming alongside you.
Yeah, all right.
That ought to do it.
Mr. Mitchell? Walter Mitchell?
Yeah, yeah, coming. Who is it?
Police officer, sir. Like talk to you if you have a minute.
Oh, all right. I'm on board. Hold it steady there.
All right, I got it. Go ahead, Ben.
Yeah, all right.
You better grab hold of my hand.
Yeah, all right. Thank you.
Tie up and climb aboard.
Yes, sir.
Thank you.
Am I not sure what officer is here?
Thank you.
My name is Romero, sir. This is my partner, Sergeant Friday.
How do you do?
How do you do, sir?
Here we are. You can sit on that hat cover if you like.
Clean. Scrapped it down myself this morning.
No, that's fine. Thank you, sir.
Beautiful day, isn't it? Nice warm sun. Look at that.
All is clear as crystal. Good life out here, officer.
Yes, sir. I guess you have pretty good hunch why we're here.
Well, I don't know. I'd like to have you tell me.
Well, your real name's Jared, isn't it? John Keith Jared?
Yeah, I thought so. I've been halfway expecting it.
Tell me, how'd you find it?
Your application for a Coast Guard pass. Check the fingerprint on it.
Well, yeah, but you didn't have anything to compare them with, did you?
Well, when you applied for that permit to carry a gun, we got a set of your prints.
They went out with the missing persons bulletin on you.
Oh, yeah, I forgot.
Washington mashed up the prints and sent the information along that.
Yeah, that's all right. Sure handed to you fellas.
I thought I was pretty smart covering up.
Well, how about it, Mr. Jared? I mean, taking off like you did, don't you?
Figure to maybe have a little explaining to do?
I can imagine I do. You smoke?
Oh, thank you. Yes, sir, I'd like one.
Here, I've got a match right here.
Well, no need to tell you. You've had a lot of people worrying over you.
I don't think there are too many. My secretary, maybe, right?
Yes, sir.
Look, I realize you men know your business. I know I don't have to remind you, but I'd just like to make it clear.
What's that?
I know a little bit of the law, and I want you to stand at ease.
If you should tell anyone where I am, I'd consider it an invasion of my personal rights, okay?
Any way you want it.
Maybe you can't figure out my disappearing the way I did, but I think you know that legally I've done nothing wrong.
I've respected the rights of the law, and now I want the law to respect my rights.
Yes, sir, it's fine with us, Mr. Jared, but just one thing.
Yes, sir?
We've chased down quite a few blind alleys on this thing, that false suicide, the two-stage, the gun, the letter.
Do you think that maybe that earns us an explanation?
I'm sorry about the legwork, believe me. You can hear the story if you want, a short version alone. Which one?
Any way you want to tell it.
You met my family, have you?
Yeah, we have.
My wife?
Yes, sir.
My son, Keith?
Yeah.
My daughter?
Yes, sir.
Well, you know what they're like. My wife's been an alcoholic for eight years. Why be polite? She's a drunk. My son's a tennis bum. There's no other word for that. My daughter?
Yes, sir.
You know it as well as I do. Two divorces, different boyfriend every week. You might as well be walking the street. I work hard for my family, Sergeant. I was proud of them once.
What would you do if they turned out the way they had?
I don't think I could say, Mr. Jarrett, I don't know your family that well.
There's a good reason you don't, Sergeant. I paid a lot of money to keep them off the front page, one jam after another. Scandal, ten years of it, covering up for them.
I got tired of it. Did tired. Maybe I'm just getting old. You mean care for a cold bottle of beer?
No, sir.
Well, there's nothing more to tell, officers. I worked most of my life for my family. I've had three vacations in 20 years. I tried to do everything I could for them. They're rotting apart, Sergeant, all three of them. I didn't want to stand around and watch them rot. That's why I left.
I see.
They each have their own trust fund. They'll be taken care of.
Yes, sir. Well, I guess it's none of my business, Mr. Jarrett, but do you think that you might have been to blame, maybe? Your children, I mean.
I don't know, maybe. If I made the mistakes, I guess I'll pay for them. Not much from changing your life when you're 52 years old. It gets lonely sometimes. Pretty lonely.
What are you going to do now? You know?
You sail around, I guess. Take the Blanche S down to Mexico, all around, do some fishing. It's lonely sometimes. I'll get used to it. Say, you men wouldn't like to stay on board for dinner, would you? I'm even learning to cook.
No, thank you, Mr. Jarrett. I guess we better start getting back on, Joe.
Yeah.
Yes, we have.
Well, thanks very much for dropping by, officer. Sorry about that extra legwork I caused you. Oh, for here.
What's this?
Two dollars for the rent of the road.
Glad to meet you, Jarrett. Good to you.
Same to you, Fry. Goodbye.
Goodbye, Mr. Jarrett.
Watch your step there.
Yes, sir. We got it all right, eh?
Okay, Joe, come ahead.
All right. Passed off your line, boy.
Okay, thanks, Mr. Mitchell. Goodbye.
Goodbye. Good luck, gentlemen.
Good luck to you.
Nice fellow, that Mr. Mitchell.
Yeah.
Strange one, huh, Joe?
Oh, I don't know. He seems pretty happy. Must have been pretty rough on him.
Yeah.
What's it prove? It's no crime to get lost.
The story you have just heard was true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On April 19th, a final report was filed by officers investigating the disappearance of John Keith Jarrett.
In a moment, the results of that report.
After a complete investigation by officers into the case, it was found that John Keith Jarrett had acted within his rights.
Legally, for the officers to disclose his whereabouts would have constituted an invasion of privacy.
Three years ago, unknown to his family or friends, John Jarrett died and was buried anonymously.
You have just heard Dragnet, the series of authentic cases from official files.
Technical advice for Dragnet comes from the Office of Chief of Police W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department.