The story you are about to hear is true.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned a homicide detail.
A 39-year-old housewife disappears suddenly.
There's no explanation for it.
Five days later, evidence of possible foul play is uncovered.
Your job, investigate.
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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 violence.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
Was Wednesday, September 15th.
It was hot in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of homicide.
My partner's Ed Jacobs, the boss is Thad Brown, chief of detectives.
My name's Friday.
I was on the way back from lunch and it was 12 56 p.m. when I got to room 42.
Homicide.
Hi, Joe.
Waiting for you.
Hi, Ed.
Al, here you got something for us, huh?
Here's the report right here.
A guard by the name of Abbott called in day before yesterday.
Chester Abbott said his wife disappeared from their home out in the valley Thursday
night.
He says he thinks she left him.
Well, it happens every day.
Not this way it doesn't.
Well, she and I went out to talk to the man yesterday.
His story doesn't make too much sense.
How you mean, Al?
None of his wife's clothes are missing, none of her luggage.
She even left her pocketbook behind full of money.
We found out from the neighbors the missing woman has a 17 year old boy by her former
marriage.
Does that mean anything?
He's an only child.
Mother dotes on the kid.
She didn't even say goodbye to him.
Well, how'd this Chester Abbott impression?
Pretty grouchy with Walsh and me, no cooperation.
Wants to find his wife, doesn't he?
I don't know.
I'm not sure.
He's no help.
I can tell you that much.
Could I see that report out?
Yeah, here you are.
Thank you.
Florence Trumbull Abbott, age 39.
Abbott's her second husband.
First one died a little after the boy was born.
Disappeared Thursday night from the home, 546 Belasco Road between 7 and 8 o'clock.
Well, when did Abbott call in to notify you?
Monday afternoon.
Told us he thought his wife might have been spending the weekend with her sister.
When he found out she wasn't, he called us.
You meet the boy when you were out there?
Yeah, that's another thing.
How do you mean?
The kid came riding up on a bike when we were talking to one of the neighbors.
We tried to talk to him, but the old man came out and hustled the boy into the house.
Then he started showing us out.
Well, what's his trouble?
Told us it was our job to find his wife, not to go prying into his stepson's affairs.
That's a new slant.
Well, how about the woman's friends and relatives?
They been checked out yet, Al?
Well, she's on it now.
Don't think he's had much luck contacting him so far.
I'll tell you the truth, I don't like the looks of it.
Mrs. Abbott have any other relatives here?
I mean, besides the sister and two aunts?
Yeah, I got the list right over here.
Sure wish we had a chance to talk to that boy.
Notice anything else out of the way about Mr. Abbott, Al?
Well, I don't know.
Here's that list, Joe.
Oh, thank you.
Abbott was upset all right.
I don't know, though.
What he struck me as reacting the way a normal man reacts when his wife's disappeared.
Well, how about a copy of this report?
You got one to spare?
Yeah, sure.
Just a minute.
Yeah.
Missing persons, Barghetti.
That's right, this is Barghetti speaking.
Who's that?
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, sure.
About what?
All right, good.
Four o'clock?
Fine.
All right, son, goodbye.
That was the boy I was telling you about, Mr. Abbott's stepson.
What did he want?
He wants to talk to us.
Sounded like a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
He's a good guy.
You know, I sounded worried about his mother.
I think something's happened to her.
In police work, missing persons detail is not a department separate in itself.
It's organized as a part of homicide division.
When the possibility of homicide arises in the course of handling a case, missing persons
immediately turns the matter over to homicide officers for investigation.
When we got the call from the Abbott boy, we automatically took over.
According to Al Barghetti, the boy said he suspected his stepfather and he didn't want
him to know of any meeting between him and police officers.
At 315, Ed and I left the office and drove to the meeting place designated by the boy,
the Dairyland Fountain and Coffee Shop near the corner of Fairfax and Hollywood Boulevard.
We got there at 3.50 p.m.
At eight minutes past five, the Abbott boy still had not arrived.
We waited another 15 minutes and then we left and drove out to the valley and pulled up
in front of the main gate to the Abbott nursery on Belasco Road.
The house itself was set well back on the property which covered about five acres of
ground.
The entire nursery was surrounded by a six-foot chain link fence and it looked like every
available foot of ground inside was planted with some kind of flower or shrub.
Mr. Abbott met us at the gate.
He had three full-grown mastiffs with him.
He held them on a chain.
Yes, what do you want?
Police officers, you Chester Abbott?
That's right, what do you want?
Well, if you can get those dogs quiet for a moment, I'd like to ask you some questions.
Pretty busy now.
Can you come back tomorrow?
No, it's important Abbott.
We'd like to talk to you now.
All right.
If you have to, yes, time it.
Get down now.
You two go.
Quiet now.
I said quiet.
All right, now what do you want?
Mind if we come inside, sir?
These what?
The dogs are pretty vicious.
We can talk here at the gate.
All right, we've been assigned to look into your wife's disappearance, Abbott.
This is my partner Sergeant Jacobs.
My name's Friday.
Find out anything about my wife yet?
Nothing definite, no.
I thought maybe you could help us.
Mind telling us exactly what happened the night she disappeared?
What do you mean what happened?
When did you see her last?
When did you first notice she was gone?
Well, we had dinner the third of the night about seven o'clock, then I laid down for
a nap.
Florence went out on the front porch for some air.
I woke up a little before eight o'clock and went outside to look for her.
She was gone.
No one saw her leave, Mr. Abbott?
Not that I know of.
Maybe one of our neighbors, you can ask them.
They seem to know everybody's business.
How about your stepson?
Wasn't he home Thursday night?
Bruce?
No, he went out to a show with some other kids.
When did he get back from the show, you remember?
About ten o'clock, I think.
Why?
Where's the boy now, Abbott?
Who are you looking for, my wife or stepson?
Both of them.
Where is he?
Gone.
He's been in the hospital, in Alhambra.
He's been feeling bad since his mother disappeared.
Figured the change would do him good.
When did you take him over to your sister's?
This afternoon.
What's that got to do with it?
I'd like to talk to him.
No, you can't.
You won't allow it.
The boy's too upset right now and I can't allow it.
I'm afraid you're going to have to allow it, Abbott.
Listen, mister, you can get off this property right now if you're going to get fresh with
me.
No cop's giving me any, Sass.
Get down there, honey.
Quiet!
Nobody's giving you, Sass.
We want to talk to your stepson.
That's all.
I say you can't see the boy.
Chester Abbott turned, made his way up the path and into the house.
A few minutes later he came out, closed the gate behind him and got into our car.
On the way back downtown he talked pleasantly about the weather, the nursery business and
his dogs.
When we got to the office we found out the reason for his sudden change in temperament.
His lawyer was waiting for us at the door.
We tried to interrogate Abbott but the lawyer objected to just about every question we asked.
It was hopeless and we knew it and so did the lawyer.
We released Abbott but not before we got the name and address of his sister in Alhambra
where the stepson, Bruce, was supposedly staying.
After Abbott and his lawyer left, Ed and I signed out of the office and drove to Alhambra
to check on the boy.
Oh, I get it.
He sure had this one pegged.
Real sleeper.
Yeah.
I'd like to know how the stepson missed that date with us this afternoon.
If the boy called us from the house, the stepfather could have overheard him.
That's possible.
Sister's house ought to be along this block, shouldn't it?
Let's see.
1408, oh six, yeah.
There it is.
Great cottage, 1402.
Okay, let's pull up here.
All right.
Nice looking place.
Well kept.
Nice neighborhood.
I wonder how the lock prices run out here.
I don't know.
I'll get the bell.
Yes, what is it?
Police, officers, ma'am.
You Miss Abbott?
Yes, Helen Abbott.
Why?
Well, we talked to your brother earlier today, Miss Abbott.
He said he brought his stepson, Bruce, over here to stay a while.
We'd like to see him if we could.
Bruce?
Well, yes, he was here until about an hour and a half ago.
I went to the store.
When I came back, he was gone.
Any idea where we can find him, Miss Abbott?
Well, I telephoned him and he said he was here.
He said he was going to the store.
He said he was going to the store.
He said he was going to the store.
I telephoned my brother Chester just before you came to the door.
Bruce isn't there.
Yes, ma'am.
Do you mind if we came and looked around, Miss Abbott?
It won't take long.
Well, why?
I told you Bruce isn't here.
It's the truth.
There's no reason to lie about it, is there?
Well, no, ma'am.
It's not that.
Well, then what is it?
No reason for me to lie to you?
How about your brother?
We went in and looked the house over from one end to the other.
There wasn't a trace of the boy.
We drove back to the Abbott nursery and satisfied ourselves.
The boy wasn't there.
Meantime, the home of Chester Abbott's sister in Alhambra was kept under constant surveillance.
No one came or went.
The next morning when Ed and I checked in for work as usual at 8 a.m., we met with Sergeant
Al Barghetti.
Well, I had half an idea there might be something wrong.
What makes you so positive, though?
It's just that we're not positive.
It's the whole set up, I guess, smells bad.
How do you mean, for instance?
Well, Abbott's lawyer, for one thing.
If a man's innocent, he doesn't have his lawyer sit with him and tell him not to answer any
question.
Number two, the kid's phone call.
He didn't show up for that date.
You figure.
I don't know.
Could be he doesn't get along with his stepfather.
Happens, you know.
Maybe he's trying to get back at him for something or other.
Yeah, that could be.
Why is Abbott hiding him out then?
You're pretty sure he's hiding him out?
Where the thing's been going, no other way to take it.
Mrs. Abbott walked away from her home last Thursday night.
Nobody saw her.
She took nothing with her.
No luggage, no clothes, no money.
That's it.
You checked with her family doctor?
Yesterday.
Told us Mrs. Abbott was in perfect health.
Checked her bank statements, double-checked her name for Wanderers file, repeaters file,
missing persons.
Couldn't find it in either one.
Her relatives too.
How you talk to them?
Some of them, yeah, hell.
Got a few more to check out this morning.
One thing's certain, no clothes, no money, no luggage.
She couldn't have gone very far.
You checked all the angles, huh?
The sheriff's office, the jails, the hospitals.
Sent out a teletype and an APV.
She's been gone almost a week and nobody's seen her.
Now how's that add up to you?
Well, I got an idea.
Yeah.
I hope I'm wrong.
8.45 a.m.
Ed and I left the office and continued making the rounds of the missing woman's friends.
We checked at the Western National Bank where Mrs. Abbott maintained another account.
Her saving statement showed a total balance of $31,564.17.
Her checking account had a balance of $842.71.
At the Farmers Mutual, we found the record of an insurance policy issued to Florence
Trumbull Abbott.
It was a 20-pay life policy covering the insured in the amount of $30,000.
The beneficiary was listed as the insured's son, Bruce Trumbull Abbott, if living upon
receipt of such due proof, if not the insured's husband, Chester J. Abbott.
By the time we finished checking the missing woman's financial status, we figured we had
a fair suspect in the husband, Chester Abbott.
From casual reports, we knew he was a frugal man, almost to the point of obsession.
If he was greedy as well, if he wanted or needed money badly enough to kill, then he
had all the motives necessary to murder his wife.
He was a stepson, too.
6.40 p.m.
Ed and I drove back to the office.
Go ahead.
Long day.
Out of mileage.
I wonder if Al's still around.
Hey, Barghetti.
Al?
Yeah, hey.
Is that you, Friday?
Yeah.
How'd you do?
Get anything?
A few things.
Pretty fair luck.
Good.
I got some more for you.
I just walked in here 10 minutes ago.
Who's that?
Bruce Abbott.
He's waiting in the next room.
We went into the next room and met the Abbott boy.
He was small for a 17-year-old, dark-haired, thin, a little on the sickly side.
He seemed nervous and upset.
He told us that he wasn't able to keep the date he made with us on the phone because
his stepfather did apparently overhear the conversation and drove the boy immediately
to his sister's place in Alhambra.
We asked the boy what made him so sure that his stepfather was responsible for his mother's
disappearance.
Well, for one thing, all three of us usually go to the early show on Thursday night, Chester,
Mom, and me.
Last Thursday we didn't go.
Why was that, son?
Chester said he wasn't feeling too good and he wanted Mom to stay home and take care of
him.
Then he told me to go on ahead to the show, so I did.
What time did you get home, Bruce?
About a quarter to 10, 10 o'clock.
Did you notice anything unusual when you got home, son?
Not so much, no.
Mom wasn't there.
I didn't think much about it then.
I thought maybe she was over to one of the neighbors.
You asked your stepfather where she was?
Uh-huh.
He said he didn't know.
He said he thought she was over at one of the neighbors, too.
What was your stepfather doing when he got home?
Just sitting in the living room reading a paper.
I usually don't talk to him too much.
I just ask him where Mom was and he told me, and then I went back to my room and went to
bed.
Did you notice anything unusual about the way he acted?
Anything different about him at all?
Well, I'm not too sure.
He did seem a little nervous, though.
Jumpy.
More than usual, I think.
Uh-huh.
Anything else?
Well, when I came through the front yard, I noticed the dogs had mud all over their
paws.
Red, Jaime, and George, all three of them.
They must have been out in the nursery plots.
Anything unusual about that?
In a way, yeah.
You see, the dogs don't go out in the plots unless Chester's with them.
He doesn't want them to trample the seedlings.
I noticed Chester had mud on his shoes that night, too.
You figure your stepfather was out digging somewhere in the nursery plots that night,
huh?
Yeah, that's right.
Digging somewhere.
He must have been.
Can't figure out why, though.
How do you mean, son?
My stepfather never works at night.
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Thursday, September 16th, 7.05 p.m.
We continued talking to the missing woman's 17-year-old son, Bruce Abbott.
As the interview went on, it became more and more obvious that the boy and his stepfather,
Chester Abbott, didn't get along at all.
Apparently, the boy was jealous of him and he was jealous of the boy.
Besides his prejudice, Bruce also contradicted himself during the course of the questioning.
7.15 p.m., the interview went on.
I understand that all right, son, but you say you can't think of any reason why your
father would be out working the nursery plots that time of night?
No, sir, I can't.
I don't know how he'd get any work done.
None of the plots are even lighted, only the greenhouses.
Well, as possible, he could have gotten that mud on his shoes working in one of the greenhouses.
No, sir, I don't see how.
All the paths in the greenhouses are graveled, so my job is either kept graveled.
I know they weren't muddy because I fixed them the day before.
Well, what do you think it means, Bruce?
I don't know.
I don't want to think about it.
I just know he's done something.
He's done something to her.
Is your father, that is your stepfather, giving any reason for keeping you away from the police
officers that came to your house, me and the first two officers who showed up?
No, he said people were getting nosy, that's all.
He said it might be better for me over at my Aunt Helen's place.
Do you think your Aunt Helen might know where your mother is?
I don't think so.
We hardly ever see Aunt Helen.
We don't know her well at all.
Well, do you know if your mother and stepfather argued very much, son?
I mean big arguments.
Sometimes, yeah, mostly about me.
How do you mean?
Chester's pretty tight, you know, doesn't like to spend money at all.
He and Mom used to argue about whether I ought to get paid for the work I did around the
nursery.
Chester didn't want to pay me.
That's so.
Yeah, when I started working, he promised he'd pay me.
I was saving up to buy a 31 Model A. After a couple of weeks, when he didn't pay me,
I asked him about it.
He told me I ought to be glad to work for him for nothing.
And your mother argued with him about that?
Sure, she got good and mad, too.
She should have gotten mad.
It was her money that bought the nursery anyway.
Well, how'd you happen to get away from your Aunt's place, Bruce?
It wasn't too hard.
Helen had some shopping to do and she left me alone.
She locked the door to my room.
Even the screen over the window was nailed down, but I kicked it out and got away.
I stayed at a friend's house last night.
You thought much about where you were going to stay tonight, son?
Well, I don't know.
Sergeant Burgetti, I was talking to him.
He asked me if I wanted to go out and have dinner and then stay at his house tonight.
I don't know.
Sounds like a good idea to me.
I don't know.
It's sure nice of him to ask me.
I think it'd be a lot better for you, son.
Why don't you check in the next office, see if Burgetti's ready to leave, huh?
Yeah.
Okay, Sergeant, thanks.
You betcha.
Joe, what do you think?
It's hard to say.
He might be lying.
Before we signed out of the office that night, we met with Captain Lorman and outlined a
plan to bring in the husband of the missing woman for questioning alone.
We figured it had served two purposes, clarify the boy's position in the case and determine
one way or another if the stepfather was withholding information about the disappearance of Mrs.
Abbott.
The big problem was to bring in Chester Abbott for interrogation without the knowledge of
his lawyer.
As we'd found out more than once, it was impossible to get anything out of Abbott with his lawyer
present.
We set up a plan to call at the Abbott home early in the morning, get the suspect out
of bed, and bring him in before his lawyer could be notified.
At 3.30 the following morning, Ed and I met at the office and started for the Abbott place.
We brought along a couple of pounds of fresh horse meat to keep the dogs quiet if they
raised a fuss.
At 10 minutes past 4 a.m., we parked our car a few hundred feet down the road from the
Abbott nursery and made our way toward the gate.
I reached in and tried to latch.
The dogs started up.
How about it, Joe?
Open?
No, it's padlocked.
We're gonna have to climb the fence.
Toss some of that meat over to them, will you?
Okay.
There.
All right, that does it.
All right, let's climb the fence.
Keep an eye on the hounds.
Looks like they could take a leg off.
Yeah.
Take it easy, Ed.
All right.
Watch him.
Here comes that other dog.
Get some more of that meat ready.
Yeah.
There you are, boy.
Go get it.
Go on.
All right, that's fine.
Come on, let's hurry.
All right.
All right.
Have a look, Joe.
All right.
Windows along the side of the house.
Lights just went on.
Yeah, come on.
All right.
Who is it?
Who's there?
Who is it?
I'll set the dogs on you.
Police officers, Abbott.
Friday and Jacobs.
What kind of business is this?
What are you doing out here this time of night?
You're under arrest, Mr. Abbott.
What are you talking about?
You heard me.
You're under arrest.
What kind of crazy thing is this?
You're going to pay for this.
I'll have your job.
You want to get your coat?
You cops are asking for a pack of trouble.
You know that.
Get your coat.
I'd like to know what you think you're doing.
Where's my stepson anyway?
What have you done with him?
I got a better one for you, mister.
Huh?
What have you done with your wife?
425 a.m.
Ed and I drove the suspect, Chester Abbott, back downtown to the office.
He was quiet and sullen.
We headed down the hall for the squad room.
Lights still burning in the office.
Now, probably Barghetti standing by.
All right, Abbott, in there.
You're going to pay for this.
You can take my word on that.
Ed, you want to take him in the office and stay with him.
I'll check with Al.
Okay.
All right, Abbott, inside.
Joe, you bring him in?
Yeah.
He's next door.
Ed's with him.
Tough.
Somebody must have seen you.
No, I don't think so.
They must have.
Why?
What do you mean?
Abbott's lawyer.
He's sitting in the next room.
Al, the lawyer had been notified.
We couldn't be sure.
Again, we drove the suspect back to the office.
He was quiet and sullen.
We headed down the hall for the squad room.
We tried to question him.
We tried to question Abbott.
And again, on the advice of his attorney, he refused to answer practically every question
we put to him.
We released him.
That day, Captain Lorman assigned two men to stake out on the nursery and report on
all of Chester Abbott's movements.
A little after 7 p.m., just after nightfall, we tried again to bring the suspect in for
questioning without his lawyer's knowledge.
It didn't work.
The men assigned to stake out on the Abbott place reported definitely that someone was
tipping off the attorney whenever unknown visitors showed up at the nursery and drove
off together with Mr. Abbott.
There was nothing we could do about it.
The following morning, Al Barghetti came up with a lead.
Had a long talk with the boy last night.
Think he came up with a pretty fair lead.
How's that?
The old man's responsible.
We know there's only one way we'll get a conviction.
Yeah.
Find the body and enough evidence to tie him in.
Yeah, well, where do we start looking?
In a new rose bed.
It's next to one of the greenhouses in Abbott's nursery.
The boy telling you this?
Yeah.
Seems to make sense.
We know old man Abbott's crazy about saving a dollar.
We found that out from the neighbors and the relatives.
And on the nursery trade, especially in the limited area Abbott has to work in, he cultivate
every foot of ground you have.
You plant every foot of soil with something.
Well, yeah, Al, what's the point?
Well, Abbott's not the type to waste anything.
He wouldn't let ground lie fallow when he could plant something that might bring in
a few dollars next spring.
Mm-hmm.
Bruce tells me his stepfather has every inch of the property planted with something.
Everything except the six by eight plot of ground in that rose garden.
Well, what did the boy say?
The plot been vacant for a long?
Well, he says his stepfather got it ready for planting a week and a half ago.
It's still vacant.
Be worth checking out.
How do we do it?
We can order up a crew from the crime lab.
They can take probings through the plot, all around it.
We ought to be able to tell us how deep the ground's been worked over lately.
Okay.
What are you figuring tonight?
I think so, yeah.
Maybe 11, 12 o'clock.
What about old man Abbott?
Do you think he's going to sit still for it?
The hunch pays off.
He's going to sit still a long time.
It was 10 minutes past 11 that night when we got to the Abbott nursery.
Lee Jones and the crime lab crew, Al Barghetti, Ed, and two other men from homicide.
The men on stakeout told us Chester Abbott, along with his attorney, had left the house
a half hour before in his car, a dark blue coupe.
They hadn't returned.
Ed brought along another supply of fresh horse meat for the dogs so we didn't have any trouble
there.
We located the vacant plot of ground in the rosebed next to one of the greenhouses, as
Bruce Abbott had described it to Barghetti.
The crime lab crew started probing.
The ground, obviously, had been worked over recently, and to some depth, they started
digging.
Anderson, get that light over here, will you?
Thanks.
Joe, see anything?
No, let's keep digging.
It's right over here.
Yeah.
You know, this is it.
He wasn't taking any chances.
Down a good four or five feet now, wouldn't you say?
Yeah, at least that.
Anderson, more light, huh?
All right, let's go at it.
All right, wait a minute.
Yeah.
A woman's shoe here.
Come on.
Just a matter.
Yeah, that's it.
Shoulder there.
It's a body.
Now, it paid off, Al.
The boy had it figured.
Yeah, too bad he was right.
It's just too bad they had to try again.
Come here.
Now, well, Cor deve very quickly.
looked around. In one bedroom we found clothes scattered over the bed and on the floor. There
was only one old suit left in one closet. On the table next to the bed we found an airline's
timetable. We got to the phone and notified communications to alert all special details
at railroad stations, bus terminals and airports, and then to get out an APB. After that we
checked with the airlines. One of them told us a man answering after his description had
booked passage to Mexico City that night under the name of Charles Frazier. The plane was
scheduled to leave at 1.52 a.m. at the Burbank Airport. We called the detail at the airport
and alerted them. Then we drove over to the field to follow through on it. It was 1.32
a.m. when Ed and I took up our positions just inside gate three where passengers were boarding
flight 72 for Mexico City. There was no sign of the suspect either on the plane or in the
waiting room. Thank you, Shel. I don't know. Where's Spaghetti? Over there by the cocktail
lounge. See him? Oh, yeah. What time he got now? 1.38. The plane's due to take off in
another four minutes, isn't it? Any sign of him now? No, nothing. Just made the rounds.
Checked with Stevens and Cummings if he got in. He came in somebody's suitcase. Couldn't
have possibly gotten through without one of us seeing him. Well, he hasn't got much more
time. Maybe it's a dead end, huh? You don't see how he could have gotten wise, do you?
Over there. No, no. By the ticket counter there. You see him? Yeah. That's him. Come on.
All right. Just a minute, Abbott. I haven't got time now. I'll miss my plane. If you have
anything more to say to me, you can wait till I get back. Right now, Abbott. And take it
up with my lawyer. I'm in a hurry. We found your wife's body. How's that? In the rose
bed next to the greenhouse. I don't know what you mean. You must be mistaken. No mistake.
Hands behind your back. What's this all about? I haven't done anything. All right. Let's
go. No, no. Just a minute. You got it wrong. I don't know anything about it. We think you
do. Now, come on. It wasn't my fault. I didn't know what I was doing. I plead insanity. She
drove me to it. We were arguing about the boy and she slapped me. I didn't mean to do
it. All right. Let's go, Abbott. Can you wait just a minute more? What for? A plane.
One from Mexico City. Funny, isn't it? What's that? I was so close. Just missed it. Not by
more than one minute. No, you're wrong about that, Abbott. Just one minute. That's all.
You missed it before you ever bought your ticket. How do you figure? When you first
decided to kill your wife. Come on. The story you have just heard was true. The names were
changed to protect the innocent. On December 19th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department
89, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California. In a moment, the results of
that trial. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Fenomen. Friends, I'm holding
two sets of fingerprint cards. Now, on one, prints found at the scene of a crime. On the
second, a suspect's taken from the files. Now, the only way in the world you can tell
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Chester Vernon Abbott was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree. The jury failed
to recommend clemency. Abbott was executed in the lethal gas chamber at 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. Technical advisors Captain Jack Donahoe, Sergeant Marty Winn,
and Sergeant Vance Brasher. Heard tonight were Barney Phillips and Herb Ellis. Script by
Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schuma. Hal Gibney speaking.
Fatima cigarettes. Best of all, king-size cigarettes has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from
Los Angeles. Now it's Counterspy on NBC.