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You're a detective sergeant.
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An unidentified woman is found murdered in a hotel room.
Cause of death?
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There's no lead to the identity of the killer.
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Find 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 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 Tuesday, October 27th.
It was cold in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of homicide.
My partner's Ben Romero.
The boss is Thad Brown, chief of detectives.
My name's Friday.
It was 1.35 p.m. when we got to the old central jail building, third floor, the crime lab.
How you doing, Lee?
Hi, Ben.
Joe.
How's it going?
Did you check the stuff yet?
Yeah, most of it.
Come on back here.
Okay.
Well, this is all of it.
Did you find anything we can get a lead out of?
Nothing too good, no.
I don't think you could identify it from what we've got here.
The morgue poster body yet?
Yeah, just this morning.
How about fingerprints, Lee?
Did they find any in that hotel?
No foreign prints, no.
Dead end there.
What about the woman's purse?
Did she show anything?
No chance.
You can see the fabric here.
Won't take a print.
Yeah.
Contents of the purse here, usual stuff.
Mm-hmm.
Comb, lipstick, key chain, one key on it, half pack of chewing gum, coin purse, a dime,
two nickels in it.
That's all of it.
According to the room clerk at the hotel, she had a wallet with her when she checked
in.
There's no sign of that, was there?
Nope.
No sign of it in the hotel room either.
Is that the only piece of jewelry found on the body, that wedding ring there?
Yeah, it's a cheap ring.
No markings on it.
No way of tracing it.
About the only thing I can tell you, she was pretty well dressed.
That's an expensive bag there.
Yeah.
Sure not a cheap dress either.
Same for a coat and shoes.
They cost some money too.
How about labels on any of that stuff?
One on the coat.
Yeah.
You can see right here.
Benworth Department Store, Los Angeles.
Coats fairly new.
They might be able to give you something on it.
Yeah, maybe.
The people at the hotel, got anything there?
Well, it could have been better, Lee.
The woman checked in last night around 8 o'clock.
She registered as John Ross' wife, L.A.
I didn't even see the man with it?
No, nobody.
Room clerk says the woman came in alone.
She said her husband was out parking the car, so she registered for both of them.
Clerk said he left the desk a few minutes after that.
Figures the man must have come in sometime while he was gone.
Nobody on duty at the desk after midnight.
He could have left the hotel any time after that without being seen.
She registered at 8 p.m. in the corner and says she died about 10.30.
You're not even sure there was a man with her, are you?
Yeah, the woman who was registered next door to the murder room, she told us she heard
a man and a woman arguing.
That was about 10 o'clock.
Said it got pretty loud.
Hmm.
No idea who the woman really was, huh?
I suppose that John Ross and wife business doesn't mean anything.
That's pretty doubtful.
But all we got to go on is the physical description from the coroner.
She was a small woman, 5 foot 1, 99 and a quarter pounds, wasn't that what it had been?
No.
Brown hair, blue eyes, about 31, 32 years old.
We got her prints off to Washington.
Got any ideas?
We figured maybe it could be a psycho killer.
How'd you figure?
The coroner's report listed strangulation as a cause of death.
Yeah?
Whoever did it made sure her neck was broken.
At approximately 6 o'clock that morning in a second floor room of a downtown hotel, the
body of an unidentified woman was found murdered.
Preliminary investigation failed to reveal the true identity of the victim or the killer.
As far as physical evidence was concerned, there wasn't much to go on.
The deep bruises on her neck and throat along with a crushed vertebrae at the base of her
skull indicated a savage attack.
1.55 p.m.
Through the label on the dead woman's coat, we traced the garment to a department store
where it had been purchased, but they had no record on it.
It was a cash purchase and the salesgirl couldn't remember the customer.
Investigation during the next two days failed to turn up any leads.
We showed a morgue picture of the victim to bartenders, waitresses, parking lot attendants
in the vicinity of the hotel.
They couldn't identify her.
We rechecked tenants and employees at the hotel.
That got us nothing.
Thursday 5.48 p.m.
One answer I'd sure like to find.
Yeah?
The victim was a nice looking woman, well dressed, nice clothes.
How come she'd stay in a cheap hotel down in the neighborhood like that?
It doesn't jive for my money.
Well, that's hard to say.
Sure got me stopped.
Two days leg work and we're in no play.
Well, we might be in better shape when we get that kick back from Washington.
I sure hope so.
Go ahead.
Hey, excuse me?
Yes, sir.
Can we help you?
Well, no, I don't know.
I guess that all depends.
I'm waiting for a couple of detectives here.
Who is it you wanted to see?
A couple of detectives.
Who are they?
That's pretty confidential, you know.
I have to talk to them.
Told me to see Friday and Romero.
Ben Friday and Joe Romero.
Who's handling the case?
Yes, sir.
I'm Joe Friday.
This is my partner, Ben Romero.
We're handling the case.
What did you want to see us about?
You said you were working on that murder case?
That woman they found in the hotel?
Yes, sir.
That's right.
That so?
May I see your badges?
Yes, sir.
Here's our identification.
Mm-hmm.
I read about that murder in the paper, you know.
You better come over here.
Yeah.
You're going to thank me for this.
I've got all you want to know about that murder.
You mind telling us your name, sir?
I don't mind.
Al P. Morgan.
I was a good friend of hers, you know.
I used to work with him.
You mean the dead woman?
It's the same one.
I never forget her face.
Maude McLeod.
I saw that picture in the paper and I said to myself,
there's old Maude.
You're pretty sure of that, are you, Mr. Morgan?
Sure, I'm sure.
Maude McLeod.
Used to work together in the circus.
Maude was a bareback girl, you know.
Best in the country, real trooper.
What makes you so sure it's the same woman, Mr. Morgan?
When was the last time you saw this friend of yours,
this Maude McLeod?
Well, I used to see her all the time.
Worked the old cell's photo together.
Got a photo of her.
Do you mind if we take a look at it, sir?
That's why I came down here.
I want to help out.
She's got to be identified.
Let's see.
Got it here somewhere.
It's old Maude in a circus costume.
Yeah, here it is.
Take a look at that.
That's Maude, ain't it?
Well, I don't know, sir.
Doesn't seem to be too much resemblance here.
Is that right?
Yeah.
It's Maude, isn't it?
Yeah.
It's Maude, isn't it?
Yeah.
I'm afraid you've made a mistake, Mr. Morgan.
Thanks for your cooperation anyhow.
Appreciate you coming in.
Well, sure, it was Maude.
I got it.
Homicide Friday.
Oh, yeah, Frank.
Uh-huh.
Is that right?
What'd it say?
Uh-huh.
Yeah.
Okay, fine.
No, we'll pick it up.
Yeah, thanks.
Anything?
Communications.
They got the kickback from Washington on the dead woman's fingerprints.
Any luck?
They got her identified.
She worked at an aircraft plant during the war, named Maude.
She worked at an aircraft plant during the war, named Doris Frazier.
I can't help but think your fellows are missing a bet.
I knew that dead woman.
Well, she's already been identified, Mr. Morgan.
We know who she is.
Her name's Doris Frazier.
That's her.
Yes, sir, that's right.
Well, what do you think of that?
Old Maude.
She went and changed her name.
Thursday, 6.35 p.m.
Ben and I went down the hall to communications and got a copy of the kickback from Washington.
The murder victim was identified as Doris Eileen Frazier.
She applied for a position as a typist at the Eagle Aircraft Plant in Burbank in 1942.
Next morning, we checked the personnel office at the plant and we found that Doris Frazier
had been employed as a typist from 1942 to 1944.
And going over her application, we found her last known address listed as 7346 Oakdale
Avenue.
Her application stated she was single, with no previous employment, with no known relatives.
We could uncover no further information on the girl.
We drove across town to the Oakdale Avenue address, a large apartment building in a better
than average neighborhood.
The manager told us that Doris Frazier had lived there up to eight months before.
He said that a few weeks before she moved, she was married to a tall, dark-haired man,
but he was unable to remember his name.
The manager also told us that the newly married couple apparently began having trouble from
the day that they were married.
We checked the next forwarding address, a boarding house for women in the south end
of the city.
Ben and I interviewed the woman in charge of Mrs. Frances Watson.
We talked to her back in the kitchen of the boarding house while she polished a set of
silverware.
I saw that picture in the paper.
I didn't connect it with Doris, though.
She was a much prettier girl when she lived here.
You say she left here about 18 months ago, Miss Watson?
Yes, maybe a little more.
It might be closer to two years.
I'd have to check my rent receipts to be sure.
Did you happen to know anything about the Frazier girl, Miss Watson?
I mean, did you know much about her personal life at all?
Well, of course, I always insist on references.
Any good boarding house does, you know.
Doris was a nice girl in many ways.
Of course, she had her shortcomings.
I suppose we all do.
When she first came here, she seemed like such a nice girl, and then she started to go downhill.
I just don't know what got into her.
Well, how do you mean, ma'am?
Was she in some kind of trouble?
Well, of course, when she first came here, we didn't know it, but she was married.
This is a home for single girls.
We have our rules and regulations just like any other respectable place.
Yes, ma'am, we understand.
Well, as we came to find out later, Doris wasn't only married, but she was fighting
with her husband.
I understand he wasn't much at all.
She was thinking of getting a divorce, as a matter of fact.
Well, did you ever meet her husband, Miss Watson?
No, I never did.
I suppose it's just as well I didn't.
I understand that Doris left him after they'd been married only a few months.
Mm-hmm.
Do you know what his name is, ma'am?
No, I have no idea.
Doris always used a maiden name, and she was with me.
Then you never saw this man, Miss Watson?
He never came to the house here?
No, I didn't say I never saw him.
I said I didn't meet him.
Yes, there was once when he came to the house to see Doris.
What was the occasion, you mind telling us about it?
Oh, it was most unpleasant, I can tell you that.
Let me see now.
Yes, Doris had been here about six months.
Even by that time, I was beginning to see the real side of the girl.
No character, Sergeant, no character at all.
It shows up every time.
Yes, ma'am.
What if you'd go on, please?
Well, as I was saying, it was after about six months when this man brought Doris home
late one night, about a quarter till midnight, I'd say, upset the whole house.
How was that, ma'am?
The two of them, this man and Doris.
They stood right out there in the hall, had a terrible quarrel.
The language, it was dreadful.
The top of their lungs, too.
My husband went out to quiet them down, but the man left before he had a chance to calm
him down.
He upset the whole house.
Uh-huh.
Now, this man that the Frazier woman was arguing with, you're sure that that was her husband?
Well, as sure as I can be.
That's what Doris told me, anyway, the day after.
I called her in and told her I just couldn't tolerate behavior like that.
It upset her quite a bit, I remember.
She cried, said it wouldn't happen again.
That's when she told me she was trying to get a divorce.
Is that what the big argument was about?
Would you know that?
Yes, she said she wanted a divorce, her husband didn't.
He wanted her back with him.
Certainly is sad, the way some people mix up their lives.
Yes, ma'am.
By any chance did you get a good look at this man, the husband, I mean?
Well, he was tall and had dark hair.
That's about all I remember.
He was well dressed, too.
I see.
When Doris Frazier left here, Mrs. Watson, did she leave a forwarding address with you?
No, she didn't.
I haven't any idea where she moved.
What kind of work was she doing while she was living here?
Do you have any idea where she was employed?
Yes, that was one of the references she gave me.
Furniture company down on Venice Boulevard, if I remember correctly.
I have the address, my record book.
Certainly is unfortunate, the whole thing.
Yes, ma'am, it is.
He even tried to talk to her before she left.
Sat her down and talked to her for a whole afternoon.
I guess it was just a waste of time.
How's that, ma'am?
Trouble with her husband, terrible thing.
He seemed to treat her so badly, two of them fighting all the time.
I believe she was actually afraid of him.
She told me he was very jealous.
He drank, ran around.
That's why I couldn't understand it.
You couldn't understand what, ma'am?
Doris, when she moved away from here.
Yes, ma'am.
She said she was going back with her husband.
The landlady, Frances Watson, gave us the address of the furniture store where the murder
victim had been employed and we drove down to check with the personnel manager of Mr.
Collins.
He said that Doris Frazier had been fired from her job ten months before.
He said she'd been let go because she was constantly late for work and that she got
into the habit of asking for salary advances too often.
Collins also told us that he'd heard about the trouble between the Frazier woman and
her husband.
He said he'd seen the husband in the store several times when he came to call for his
wife.
He identified the husband as Stephen Arnold.
The description was approximately the same, a tall, well-dressed man, dark hair, heavy
build.
The personnel manager gave us the last known address they had on the victim.
The following morning we checked it out, an apartment hotel in the East Wilshire area.
She was still registered there together with her husband, Stephen Arnold, but the desk clerk
told us that Arnold hadn't been living there for the past three months.
He had no idea where Arnold had moved.
He didn't know where he worked.
While the desk clerk stood by, Ben and I went upstairs and checked the apartment.
Anything, Joe?
No, nothing.
Nothing in the bedroom.
Like Lee says, she goes in for nice clothes, about all I can figure.
And what you got there?
See it lying on the desk here.
Looks like she started to letter and didn't get to finish it.
What's it say there?
Well, it's dated October 23rd, that's over a week ago.
It says, Dear George, I've been meaning to write to you before, but that's all.
That's as far as she got.
George, first time we've run into that name on this deal.
Makes more than one man in her life.
Yeah, there's a couple more letters here.
They're all addressed to her unopened.
Let me see.
All we can go by are the return addresses.
Telephone bill, ad from a woman's store, postcard, another ad.
Here's something, Santa Monica postmark.
Check the name on that return.
Yeah, Stephen Arnold.
12.35 p.m.
We called the office and checked Stephen Arnold through RNI.
He had no criminal record.
The return address, which he'd listed on the envelope of the letter to his wife, was 10826
Pacific Front Boulevard.
We located it on the beach just below Santa Monica.
Was a small hamburger stand owned and operated by the dead woman's husband.
No, I haven't seen Doris for a couple of months anyway.
Why?
Because you had an apartment with your wife in the East Wilson neighborhood.
Is that right, Mr. Arnold?
Yeah, that's right.
Mind telling us why you left?
No, I don't mind.
I wanted to move closer to my work, that's all.
That place is way too far out.
Well, how is it your wife didn't move with you, sir?
She wanted to stay close to town.
Doesn't care for the beach much.
Bad for her sinus, I guess.
Well, did you have an argument with your wife, Arnold?
Some kind of a disagreement?
Is that one of the reasons you moved?
Yeah, you might call it that.
We're getting a divorce.
Is that so?
Yeah, it was the best thing all the way around.
There's nothing to be fighting and scrapping last year anyway.
We decided to call it quits.
Excuse me a minute, I gotta put some cold drinks in this cooler here.
Yeah, go right ahead.
What, do you care for a cold drink?
No, no thanks.
Coke maybe?
No thanks.
Did you get the divorce from your wife, Mr. Arnold?
Yeah, that's right.
I'm divorcing her.
Why do you want to know?
You remember that last time you saw your wife, the exact date, I mean?
No, I don't think I remember that.
It's been at least three months, I'll say that much.
You spend most of your time down here at the beach, do you, Mr. Arnold?
Yeah, that's right.
I get into town once or twice a month.
Are you sure you wouldn't like a Coke?
No, that wouldn't, thanks.
I think I'll have one myself, if you don't mind.
I'm sure I got a cold one here.
Water sure is cold.
How about last Tuesday night, sir?
You happened to be in town that night?
Last time was two, three weeks ago anyway.
Went in to see a show.
I was working here last Tuesday night.
Work every night except Monday.
It's the only night I'm closed up.
Is there anyone who can vouch for that?
I don't think I get this.
Why do you want to know?
Well, is there anybody who can vouch for you?
Well, sure, half a dozen people anyway.
A fellow runs a place next door, the guys in the rest of the stalls up and down the way
here, they can all vouch for me.
I work till 1 a.m., same as usual.
Just a minute.
Hey, Vic?
Vic?
Yeah, Steve?
Hop over here for a minute.
Something I want to talk to you about.
Yeah, just a minute.
Okay, Vic, thanks.
It'll be right over.
You fellas want a cup of coffee or anything?
No, I wouldn't like to have change for that cigarette machine though, if you don't mind.
Oh, sure.
There you are.
Oh, thanks.
Yes, Steve?
Hey, these fellows are detectives, Vic.
I guess they bought some kind of jam my wife got into.
They want to know where I was last Tuesday night.
Yeah?
They want somebody to vouch for me.
Sure.
You know where I was last Tuesday night?
I was working next door.
Steve was here all night.
You are listening to Dragnet, authentic stories of your police force in action.
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Saturday, October 31st, 2 p.m.
Ben and I checked with a dozen different concession operators in the neighborhood of Stephen Arnold's
eating place.
They all corroborated the fact that on the night his wife had met her death in a downtown
hotel, Arnold had been working at his stand until 1 a.m.
Despite all the previous indications that he might have been responsible for the murder
of his wife, we had to eliminate him as a possible suspect.
2 20 p.m.
On the way back into town, we stopped by the apartment hotel where Doris Frazier was living
at the time of her murder.
After checking further with the tenants and with the help in the building, we found out
that the victim had been in the habit of eating most of her meals at restaurants in the immediate
neighborhood.
After some two hours of checking and running into six restaurants, we found a small coffee
shop four blocks from the apartment building where one of the waitresses identified Doris
Frazier's picture.
Yeah, that's her office.
A terrible picture though.
She looks so much older.
About how often would you say Miss Frazier came in here, ma'am?
Well, three or four times a week, I'd say.
The bus stops right out there on the corner.
She'd usually have breakfast, then grab the bus and go to work.
Some nights coming home from work, she'd stop in here for dinner.
Nice girl, quiet.
Did you get to know her at all, Miss?
I mean, did you happen to know any of her friends here in the neighborhood?
No, as I say, she was a quiet person, not very talkative.
Usually read while she was eating, woke her magazine.
Did she ever come in here with anyone else?
Do you know that?
No, quite a few times.
She seemed to have a boyfriend.
Of course, she was attractive, small, you know, but real cute looking.
Do you happen to know any of these men?
No, I'm sorry, I don't.
Any one of them in particular she came in with very often?
Let's see.
I think there was one, blonde, good dresser, kind of tall, good looking.
They usually came in together for breakfast.
How long ago was this, Miss, do you recall?
Oh, say up until a couple of weeks ago.
I usually waited on him in the morning.
That's how I happened to remember.
I see.
Did you ever happen to hear this man's name?
Let me see.
George, I think that was it, yeah.
Did you happen to know if he lives in the neighborhood?
No, I'm sorry, I don't.
Has this man been in here during the past week, you know?
Yes, he has.
He came in for breakfast.
What day was that?
This morning.
Before we left the coffee shop, we questioned the cashier who came up with the information
that the man known as George usually left his car parked at the service station across
the street.
We left our card and asked the cashier to call us in case the suspect returned.
At the service station, they also remembered the man known as George, but they told us
he hadn't been in for the past month.
He'd done some work on his car for him in the past, so they had a record of his license
number.
We called our DMV and found that the car was registered to a Carl Lucy in East Hollywood.
4.45 p.m.
We drove out and interviewed Lucy at his home, but he came nowhere near the description of
the suspect.
He told us that he had purchased the car six weeks before from a man known as George Crane.
He described Crane as tall, blonde, and well-dressed.
From the bill of sale, we got Crane's address, a motel on East Manchester.
The manager there told us that George Crane had moved a week before.
He said that Crane had left no forwarding address, but he did remember where he worked.
He was a driller in one of the oil fields down in Long Beach.
We checked the oil company's personnel office downtown, but they were closed for the day.
6.18 p.m.
We went back to the office and pulled the package on George Crane from R&I.
Get anything, Lonnie?
Yeah, he's got a record.
Here's the package here.
Yeah.
Nothing very heavy.
Drunk charge, two years ago.
Another one last year, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest.
That's about all.
I'm seeing.
Yeah, description checks out all the way.
You called the night office of that oil company, did you?
Yeah, they couldn't tell us anything.
Said called back first thing in the morning.
Want to reach it?
I got it, yeah.
Homicide, Friday.
Who?
How's that, sir?
Oh, yeah, sure.
Yes, sir.
No, no, sir, I'm afraid not.
Yeah, thanks anyway.
You bet.
Yeah.
Yeah, goodbye.
Well, that does it.
Who was it?
That guy who was in here the other day.
He was a cop.
He was a cop.
He was a cop.
He was a cop.
He was a cop.
You remember that guy who was in here the other day?
You remember that Alfred P. Morgan or whatever it was?
Oh, wasn't he one?
He wanted to buy us a drink.
He's celebrating.
Huh?
His old friend Maude, he just found her.
8 a.m. the next morning, we checked with the personnel department of the oil company's
downtown offices.
They told us that George Crane was employed as a driller, that he'd been working for the
company for the past five years, and that he had a good employment record.
They told us he was on the day shift and that he was scheduled to report for work on rig
619 at the Long Beach field at 8 o'clock that morning.
Ben and I got in the car, drove down to Long Beach where we located the murder suspect,
George Crane, at work in the field.
Doris Frazier?
No, I'm sorry, Sergeant.
I don't think I know anybody by that name.
How about Doris Arnold, Mr. Crane?
Would you know anybody by that name?
Arnold?
No, no, I'm afraid not.
What's it all about?
You own a car, do you, sir?
Yeah, that's it right over there, that dark sedan.
Yeah.
Have you had it long?
Oh, I've had it a couple of weeks.
Last one I had was giving me a ride.
Did you trade it in?
No, I sold it for a private party.
Fell out in Hollywood.
You mind taking a look at this picture, Mr. Crane?
Yeah.
Oh, it doesn't look like anybody I know.
Why, am I supposed to?
We think you should, yes, sir.
I don't think I'll follow you.
Do you spend any time around the East Wiltshire District, Crane?
East Wiltshire, you said?
Yeah.
No, I've probably been over there a couple of times.
Not lately, though.
How about the coffee shop on the corner of Gramercy and Marengo?
You ever been in there?
Not that I remember, no.
Well, the waitress in that coffee shop, and the cashier, too, they say they've got a pretty
regular customer.
He fits your description exactly.
You sure you've never been in there?
Well, I'm not positive.
I wouldn't swear I never been in the place.
What's the difference, anyway?
Well, how about that service station across the street from the coffee shop?
You ever parked your car there?
They ever do any work on it for you?
Oh, say, I bet I know the place you're talking about.
Yeah, yeah, I've been there quite a few times.
Good station.
They've done some good jobs on the car for me.
I remember it now.
Well, I guess you remember the coffee shop.
Crane?
Yeah, I think I do now.
Right across the street from the station, that is.
Yeah, that's right.
Well, what do you want to know about it?
When's the last time you were in there, Crane?
Well, to tell you the truth, I couldn't be sure.
We talked to a waitress in there yesterday.
She said you were in that morning for breakfast.
Do you remember that?
She's way off the track on that one, I can tell you that.
I wasn't near the place yesterday morning.
Well, Cassia remembers you, too.
She says you were in.
How about it, Crane?
Look, what difference does it make?
What's this thing all about, anyway?
You want to take another look at this picture?
Well, I told you once I don't know the woman.
I never saw her before in my life.
Why don't you give it some thought?
Huh?
I said, why don't you give it some thought?
You remember East Wilshire.
You remember the service station.
You finally remember the coffee shop.
Maybe you can remember her if you try.
I don't know her.
I never saw her in my life.
Look, let's go in the shed where we can hear each other, huh?
All right.
Yeah, that's a little better, huh?
The waitress in the place says you were in there quite a few times with the woman.
You usually came in for breakfast.
You stopped going there about two weeks ago.
I don't know her.
What's the matter, Crane?
You figure you got something to hide?
I don't know what you're talking about.
I don't know her.
What do you figure she's got to do with me, anyway?
We checked her apartment, mister.
We found a letter she was writing to you.
You about ready to tell us?
What's a letter?
That doesn't mean anything.
Can't prove anything by the letter.
What are you thinking, anyway?
We think you're lying, Crane.
We think you got a reason for it.
What do you say?
It doesn't prove anything.
Maybe I knew her, and that doesn't mean anything at all.
We think it does.
Yeah?
We think you killed her.
Is that the way it looks to you?
That's the way it looks.
I don't think you can prove it.
We're gonna try.
Now, how about it?
Will it go any easier for me if I admit it?
That's not up to us.
I don't know why I did it.
What am I gonna give for a reason?
I don't know why I killed her.
I wouldn't know, Crane.
Didn't really have any reason.
That sounds funny, doesn't it?
No reason at all.
I just killed her.
What am I gonna tell them?
If I don't have a reason, how can I ask them to let me off easy?
How can I ask them?
I don't know, but they'll have an answer.
The story you have just heard was true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On February 8th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 92, 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.
Friends, all of us on Dragnet sincerely hope that all of you enjoyed a happy Thanksgiving.
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George Martin Crane was tried and convicted in Superior Court of murder in the first degree.
He is now serving a life term in the state penitentiary.
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.
Fatima cigarettes, best of all king-size cigarettes has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from
Los Angeles.
Next, counter-spy fights international intrigue.
Stay tuned to NBC.