The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a homicide detail.
It's New Year's Eve in your city and you're on special duty.
Thousands of people crowd downtown streets. One of them is a killer. Your job, find them.
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 New Year's Eve. It was cold in Los Angeles.
We were working the night watch out of homicide special duty.
My partner is Ben Romero, the boss is Thad Brown, chief of detectives. My name is Friday.
I was on the way back from dinner and it was 8.35 p.m. when I got to room 42. Homicide.
Joe? Hi, Barney. How was it outside? It's cold.
Not keeping people at home though. Did you check the crowds? Yeah.
Been watching it from the window here. Seems bigger than last New Year's. Crazy.
You're on with Ben and me tonight, is that right? Uh-huh.
Thought I was going to have it off. Wife had a little house party planned and everything.
Well, that's too bad. Maybe next time, huh? Yeah, that's what I said last New Year's.
I guess we better start moving. Yeah, where's Ben? He went down the hall a minute and said he'd be right back.
I better take my top coat off. Yeah, I would if I were you.
Nothing for us in the book, is there, Barney? I almost forgot Jack Conley called having a little party out of his house.
He wants you and Romero to drop around when you get off. Said he'd call back.
Hi, Joe. Hi. You about ready? Yeah, let me grab my overcoat.
I just tagged back some notifications. Switch ports lit up like a Christmas tree during a miller bit.
Just like last year, they're starting off strong. 415-507. Calls coming in with a dozen.
I'd like to see it just once. People celebrating New Year's without tearing up half the town.
I get it. I'm gonna sign Friday. Oh, yeah, Jack. Yeah, well, Barney just mentioned it.
Well, we'll try and make it. You know how things are tonight. Yeah, we'll try. Sure. Thanks a lot.
But Jack Conley, Ben, on his way home, he wants us to drop by his place. We'll get off early tonight.
Not much chance of that. You ready? Yeah, I am. You, Barney? Let's go.
Guess you can't tell. You might get a break. The crowds are starting in pretty early.
Good chance of a break and go home right after midnight. That should get us off early.
That was the idea last year, wasn't it, Ben? Yeah. What time did you get off? 6 a.m.
Together with Sergeant Barney Lucek, Ben and I left the city hall and started a cruise to the southern end of the central area.
As any police officer can tell you, New Year's Eve for him is one of the hardest working nights in the year.
This one was no different for us. Within an hour, we'd had more than a half a dozen calls to check out.
Street fights, drunken driving, disturbing the peace.
The usual complaints that you'd expect to get when a community of three million celebrates New Year's Eve.
9.43 p.m. We were cruising in the area of Alameda and Macy Street.
Unit 72R at Wilshire and Geneva, 311. KMA, 367. Roger, 72R?
Unit 112 at 83 Naylor Avenue. See the man, keep the peace. KMA, 367.
No stopping them, huh? I know it's a big night. Smoke, Joe? No, no thanks.
Attention all units. All units in the vicinity at East Main and Darwin and Officer Neatel.
That looks like we got one, huh? Yeah. All units in the vicinity at East Main and Darwin and Officer Neatel. KMA, 367.
I guess we better handle it, huh? Why? The next one on the left, Ben, we can go out, darling.
I know. I better call him. 80K to Control 1, 8OK to Control 1.
What's the matter? Well, I guess they're busy. 80K to Control 1, 8OK to Control 1.
Standby 80K. Attention all units. All units in the vicinity. The call to East Main and Darwin is now a shooting.
I guess you better push it, Ben. Got it down to the floor.
All units in the vicinity. The call to East Main and Darwin is now a shooting. The call is now code 3, KMA, 367.
That's it coming up, Ben, East Main. Yeah. There's a crowd there on the corner. I guess you better pull up here, huh?
All right. Come on.
Over by light pole, Ben. Joe, an airline on the sidewalk. You want to check the crowd, buddy? Yeah. OK.
Let us through here, please. Can we get through? Excuse me. Look, will you please get back? Move back, please.
All right. Come on. I want you to just move along. Just move along. Move along. Give us a little room to work. Thank you.
Ben? Yeah, Joe? Have a look here. Huh? No. That's Jack Connolly. Ben? He's dead.
His full name was John Patrick Connolly, serial number 367. He was one of the veteran officers in Central Homicide.
He lay face down on the pavement, one of his legs straddling the curb stone. He'd been shot twice at the base of his skull.
There were four more bullet wounds in his back. Ben got to a phone, called Homicide, and told them what had happened.
Two dozen cruiser cars and more than a half a hundred men were immediately dispatched to the scene of the killing.
They circled the area for a dozen blocks around and started a door-to-door search for the killer.
Suspicious looking pedestrians were stopped at every street corner in question.
Ten thirty p.m. The ambulance arrived and Jack Connolly's body was taken to the morgue.
Along with Thaxter and Brian from Homicide, Barney Lucek, Ben and I continued checking in the immediate vicinity of the killing.
We found no one who'd admit that they actually saw the shooting.
Half a dozen people in the crowd told us that they heard the shots and they saw Connolly fall to the pavement.
They'd also seen a man standing behind Connolly turn and run down the street right after the shooting.
No one had followed him. The man was described as medium-billed, wearing a dark suit and a dark hat. That's all I could tell us.
Eleven twenty-five p.m. Ben and I met Barney Lucek back at the car.
Morning. Did you get anything?
Checked out every store in the neighborhood that's open. Not much. How about you?
It was the same. Pretty thin.
Brian and Thaxter turned up a newsboy down the street. He told him he saw the guy in the dark suit running down the street.
Thought he saw the guy come out of this bar here.
We heard that too, Barney. We talked to the bartender. He didn't recall the man.
I almost forgot. I checked with the office. Mrs. Connolly's been calling in once in a while. Her husband is.
Oh, yeah.
I asked personnel to hold off notifying her. I thought it would be you fellas who want to tell her.
You knew Connolly pretty well, didn't you?
Yeah, a long time.
Family, man?
Three kids.
Hmm. If you fellas don't want to tell her, I'll call personnel back. They can do it.
No, it's all right. I'm sorry.
Eleven forty p.m. Ben and I got in the car and headed out for the home of the slain officer, Jack Connolly.
The house was on Ralston Avenue, just a few blocks from where Ben lived.
We parked the car and started up the front wall. The lights were burning in the living room.
Lousy job.
What?
I said it's a lousy job.
Yeah.
Better try it again, huh?
I heard it. Somebody's coming.
Hi, Joe, Ben.
Hello, Betty.
Hi, Betty.
I'm sure glad you can make it. Everybody's here. Come in, come in.
Okay.
Thank you.
I'm still waiting for that wandering husband of mine. If he's not here by midnight, he's going to be in the doghouse for sure. Here, let me take your coat.
No, Betty, that's all right. I wonder if we could go back in the kitchen. We'd like to talk to you.
Smirna, can't you stay long?
No, not too long.
Oh, that's too bad. Well, come on back in the kitchen. I'll get you something.
Maybe you can drop back later on. Jack should be here by then. He better be. Come on in.
By the one of you seeing Jack?
That's what we wanted to talk to you about, Betty.
What?
You want to sit down, Betty?
What is it, Joe? Tell me.
Well, he had an accident.
Where is he? I want to go see him. How bad an accident?
Pretty bad.
I want to go see him, Joe. If he's hurt, I want to see him. Couldn't be that bad, could it?
Yeah.
Oh, please, Joe. Please, not dead. Tell me, Joe, please.
I'm sorry, Betty.
Dear God. Oh, God.
Why don't you give me a hand here, Joe?
Yeah.
Why does she...
It'll be worse when she comes, too. We better get a hold of the family doctor.
You know, we're going to have to wait. We'll never get through now.
Huh?
Phone lines are probably jammed. It's midnight.
Oh, yeah.
Happy New Year.
12.30 a.m. We finally got a hold of Connelly's family doctor, and he told us that he'd be over as quickly as possible.
Some of Ben Connelly's relatives at the party said that they'd look after things until the doctor arrived.
Ben and I left the house and drove back to the scene of the murder.
The house-to-house check of the entire area was still going on. There was no trace of the killer.
At 2.30 a.m., a low fog moved in over the city. Traffic began to thin out a little.
The street crowds disappeared. 2 a.m., the search went on.
A little before 2.30, a patrolman on foot located a taxi cab driver in the neighborhood who claimed that he'd seen a man answering the killer's description just after the shooting.
Ben and I went down the street to talk to the driver. He sat behind the wheel of his cab.
He was specially equipped with shortwave radio to handle calls directly from the taxi company's dispatch office.
Glad to pass it on for whatever it's worth, officer. It happened just a minute or two before I picked up my last fare.
What time is that? Do you remember?
I'm remembering too, and I got it right here on the way, Bill.
Yeah, yeah, here we go. 9.48 p.m. I was parked just where I am now, same old stand. I picked up a fare, drove in the North Main in Sotelo, and I came back here.
My cab broke down, lousy distributor. I've been waiting for the repair truck ever since.
Well, just what was it that happened before you picked up that fare here? Was it 9.48? Is that right?
Yeah, 9.48, yeah. Well, I was going to say it was just a minute or two before that. I was parked right here.
This guy comes running down the street through the crowd. He was really running too.
Yeah, go ahead.
He was almost past me when he stopped all of a sudden, turned around and looked at me. I thought he wanted a cab, so I opened the door for him.
He just looked at me and said, never mind, or something like that, and then he took off down the street. Maybe he was just a little goofed up, I don't know.
Can you remember what he looked like?
Oh, about your bill, I guess. Medium, had a hat on, dark hat, dark suit.
Did you get a look at his face?
Yeah, he's about 28 or 30, dark complexion.
Anything else you remember about him?
No, not for sure. He looked like a hundred other moochies down around this neighborhood.
Just listen to those calls come in, huh? New Year's Eve and I draw a lame cab.
Well, there's nothing else that you remember about this man that you think might help us, huh?
No, you got it all, Sergeant. Just acted a little queer, that's all. Goofed up, probably.
Did you see which way he went when he took off?
Right down the street, that way. Lost himself in the crowd. I couldn't be bothered.
How about when he came running down the street towards you, and you happened to notice where he was coming from?
Matter of fact, yeah, that was just after I heard those gunshots. Of course, I didn't know there were gunshots, Sam.
Yeah?
Looked to me like he came out of that joint up there, right near where the cop was shot.
Which joint was that?
The 228, that bar up there.
Well, it wasn't much, but it was the only lead we had to go on.
Seven persons in the vicinity at the time of the shooting had volunteered the information that the killer had been a recent customer at the 228 club.
The neighborhood tavern.
The owner and bartender of the club, a Ralph Stevens, had been questioned twice that night by different officers,
and he twice denied that there was any possibility that the killer could have been a patron at his bar.
Stevens' denial didn't make any more sense than the killing itself.
We made arrangements to have the cab driver we interviewed come down to the city hall to check through our mug books for the suspect.
By 10 a.m. the next morning, the body of the slain homicide officer, Jack Connolly, had been posted.
Four bullets were taken from his back, two from the base of his skull.
Russ Camp ran the slugs through ballistics where they were identified as having been fired from a.38 caliber Colt special revolver.
11 a.m.
We drove back to the 228 club where we talked to some of the customers who'd been there the night before.
Three of them told us that they'd seen a man answering the general description of the killer in the bar shortly before the shooting.
Ben and I went back to the stock room at the rear of the bar and talked to the owner, Ralph Stevens.
Look, how long does this thing have to go on anyway? I told you everything I knew last night.
We know that, Stevens. Doesn't seem to jive with what the rest of the witnesses saw, though.
Maybe you'd better take it up with them. I don't know anything about it. I got work to do, and you're in my way there.
Excuse me.
How come you're so sure that the man we want wasn't in your place last night?
I'm not on trial here. You asked me what I know, and I told you. You don't mind I got work to do. You mind moving over there?
We'd appreciate it if you'd cooperate.
All right, if you want to know the truth, you're not good for my business here. Cops never are.
Coming around asking questions, customers don't like it. It's no good for business, no good at all.
A cop was killed last night right outside your front door, and half a dozen people say that the guy who did it was in here drinking.
I run this place, it's mine. I say the man wasn't in here.
Still like to know how you're so sure.
I'm getting a little tired of this. I don't have an office down at the city hall to lounge around in. I got work to do. How about leaving, huh?
You want to get your coat? We can talk to you downtown. Come on.
Now, before I call my lawyer.
Go ahead and call him. Where's your coat?
Why do we have to have trouble? I haven't got any beasts with you.
No trouble, Stevens. We have to get to the bottom of it, that's all.
I'd like to have you cooperate.
Maybe the guy was in here last night. He came in a couple of times, that's all. I didn't want it to get out. Bad for business, those things.
Can't afford it, keeps customers away. And the man was in here last night, is that right?
I wasn't trying to cover it for him. I hardly know him. I just didn't want it to get out. I got a right to protect my business.
Who is the man?
Harry Talmadge. He's a hophead. If he did it, it probably wasn't his fault.
How do you mean?
He was hyped up last night, he used his heroin. He probably didn't mean to shoot.
Where do we find him?
I wouldn't know if this is right, old address.
What is it?
Fairview Hotel, try there.
11.35am, New Year's Day. We got in touch with Barney Lucek and Tom Bryan from Homicide, and they drove downtown to check at the Fairview Hotel for the suspect.
Ben and I finished questioning the owner of the 228 Club and we went back to the office.
11.58am, Barney Lucek and Bryan got back.
Barney, what have you got?
Fairview Hotel in South Grand, was that the one?
Yeah, did you find it okay?
Yeah, I talked to desk clerk.
Talmadge registered there?
Yeah, he was. Checked out two months ago, no leads.
You are listening to Dragnet, a series of authentic case histories documented from official files.
12.00pm, New Year's Day. After we found that the suspect Harry Talmadge had checked out of the Fairview Hotel months before, Ben and I went back to the office and ran his name through R&I.
The information given us by Ralph Stevens, the owner of the 228 Club, was apparently correct.
The record on Talmadge showed that he was a confirmed user of narcotics.
He served two brief terms for illegal possession of narcotics and another short term in the county jail for petty theft.
We got out of broadcast and an APB on Talmadge.
We checked out all his known friends and relatives, the places that he frequented, hotels, boarding houses that he stayed at, no leads.
With the help of Lieutenant Walters and narcotics detail, we finally found the trail most likely to lead us to the suspect.
The peddlers who were suspected of supplying Talmadge with narcotics.
They were kept under a 24-hour watch.
Three days passed, no results.
January 4th, 9am, Ben and I went to the funeral and burial services for the murdered officer, Jack Conley.
11am, we got back to the office.
I don't know why, Joe. I just don't cop in the funeral. Not a cop's funeral anyway.
No, I don't blame you. His wife looked a lot better, didn't she?
Yeah, she did bang up good considering.
Merrill, Joe?
Hi, Barney.
What'd you say, Barney?
That young fella you told me about, he phoned you, Ben.
Oh, is that right? Did you give him the information?
Yeah, he wanted to know all about taking the police department examination.
Now, who's that?
One of my neighbor's boys, a nice kid. He wants to get on the force.
I told him to apply at room five, city hall, any weekday. He could make an application then.
That it?
Fine, Barney, thanks.
Well, they got the recruiting campaign going on?
Yeah, all this month. Taking applications from all over the country.
I'll get it.
Homicide, Friday. Oh, yeah, Walters. Just a minute.
Okay. A-L-D-S-O-N, Donaldson. Okay, fine. Thanks a lot.
Lou Walters in narcotics might be something.
What's that?
Well, he got a line on one of the mules who used to push heroin to town.
He's got the name of Donaldson. He's been sounded out. He's ready to talk to us.
This Donaldson was close to town, man?
Well, supposedly, yeah.
You know where town that is?
Well, let's ask him.
Ben and I left the office and drove to the address on South Alameda where Donaldson,
a friend of the murder suspect, was supposed to be staying.
Turned out to be a cheap hotel in the Skid Row district.
It was next to one of the rescue missions down there.
We finally located Donaldson across the street.
He was standing on the sidewalk along with four or five other men.
They were listening to a small Salvation Army band playing outside one of the beer joints.
I hardly miss any of these sidewalk meetings, Sergeant. Like them.
Band music. Even listen to the sermons. Do me a lot of good.
I understand you're not pushing junk anymore, Donaldson. Is that right?
Do you want to call me big, Sergeant?
Name's really John, but everybody calls me big.
All right.
No, I haven't been pushing junk. Not for months. All through with it.
Well, when's the last time that you saw Harry Talmadge?
A couple weeks ago. I'm not much for Harry anymore.
Like I say, I've been regular at these sidewalk meetings, hearing the sermons.
Changes the way a fella does things, you know.
Yeah.
Man's got to turn good sometime during his life. Not getting any younger.
58. I figure it's time I stopped living by the word.
Say, that's nice music, isn't it?
Yeah. Do you have any idea where we might find Talmadge now?
I might have a few ideas on it. I don't know.
Let's say, I guess neither one of you fellas you snub.
No, no, no, snub.
Don't bother you, does it?
No, go ahead. No, it's all right.
I know the last boarding house Harry stayed at, if that'll help any. Place on a tough street.
I can give you the address.
Well, is he still there, do you know?
I don't think he is, no. Matter of fact, I'm sure he's not.
Wish Harry'd come around and see me. Like to get him interested in these sidewalk meetings.
Getting listening to the sermons might help him. Did an awful lot for me.
Yes, sir. Will you say that you saw Talmadge about two weeks ago?
Well, not quite two weeks ago. It was a day after Christmas.
He came down to my hotel and wanted some money. I couldn't give him any.
That's when he told me he was moving. Going to some rooming house up around the city hall section up there.
Did he mention any address?
Not that I recollect, no. That sure is nice music, isn't it?
Well, how about some of his other friends, Biggs? You think they might be able to help us?
Well, Duke might help you. Harry and old Duke are still great friends. Duke sees them more than I do.
Where do we find Duke?
Well, you know the Penny Arcade down in South Main, right down from the train depot there?
Yeah.
That's where Duke works. He's a janitor there.
I've been trying to get Duke to come to the sidewalk meetings, too. He sure could stand it, old Duke.
Well, thanks very much, Biggs.
Not at all, Sergeant. Always glad to help out. Now look at that now. All out of snuff.
Say you couldn't see your way clear, could you?
There you go, Biggs.
That's your Christian of you, Sergeant. I'll handle this just like a personal lawman.
That's all right, Biggs. Don't say anything about us talking to you, though. Not to anyone.
No, sir, I won't. You can trust me. Say, when you see Harry, give him a message, huh?
Well, what's that?
You tell him to come and see me. I want him to show up at these meetings, hear the sermons.
It could change everything, Sergeant. It could give him a new life, new soul, brand new soul for Harry. Think of that.
Yeah, I could use one.
3 p.m. Tuesday, January 4th. We drove down to the Penny Arcade on South Main.
Harry tells me his friend Duke wasn't there. The manager of the place gave us his home address, and we checked it out.
Duke wasn't there either. We staked out at the place for the rest of the afternoon. Duke failed to show.
At 6 o'clock that night, Barney Lucek and Brian from Homicide came out and relieved us.
Ben and I had dinner at Johnny Cokin's, and then we went back to the office. 7.20 p.m.
Want to grab that, Joe? Yeah, I got it. Homicide Friday.
Lucek, Joe? Oh, yeah, Barney?
Tell me his friend just showed up here. We're talking to him now.
Will he tell you anything? Yeah, he's got a pencil. You better write this down.
All right, wait a minute. Just a second. All right, go ahead.
1727 West Hoover, apartment 3.
That was 1727 West Hoover, is that right? Yeah.
Apartment 3? Well, what's the pitch?
Harry Talmadge. Duke says he's there now. All right, Barney, thanks. Bye.
Okay, slow.
Lucek? Yeah. What's he got?
Harry Talmadge. Supposed to be at this address.
Ben and I got in the car and drove out to the West Hoover Street address where we met Lucek and Brian.
1727 was a small, two-story apartment house, Spanish stucco in style.
Apartment 3 was at the rear of the first floor.
All right, Lucek, you want to pick up Brian and you cover the back.
Right, Joe.
Come on, Ben. Let's go.
Get us up the stairs, huh?
Number 3. Okay.
I'll cover you.
No sound inside.
Door's open. No, it's not open.
No, it's empty.
You want to try the bedroom? I'll check the kitchen.
All right, Joe.
Joe, in here.
All right, tell me.
Watch it, Ben.
Got a gun, Joe. Grab it.
You're a cop.
Come on, drop it. Drop it.
My arm. I got it, Joe.
All right, come on. On your feet.
All right, jamming, backing.
All right, come on. Hold still.
38 revolver, Joe. Cold special.
All right, how about it, Tommy?
It's mine. What of it?
Where's your coat? I don't know.
Why'd you kill him?
Because I wanted to. That's all. He was a cop.
Is that your only reason?
I told you he was a cop. What's the difference?
There's a big difference, mister.
Why? I killed him. It's just one cop less. What's the difference?
It's family, they'll tell you.
The story you've just heard was true.
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On March 26th, trial was held in Superior Court,
Department 86, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
Here are in a moment the results of that trial.
Harold Wesley Talmage was found guilty of manslaughter by jury trial
and was sentenced to the state penitentiary.
He was paroled after serving six years in prison.
You just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official fires.
Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker,
Los Angeles Police Department.
Fatima cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes,
is brought to Dragnet portions transcribed from Los Angeles.
Stay tuned for Counterspy, more good mystery on NBC.