Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to read a telegram we just received.
Final ballot tabulation shows Dragnet has won Michael Award for Best Radio and also for Best Television Mystery Program in 1952.
20,090 qualified members participated in nominations and final ballot.
Congratulations and best wishes.
Ed Bobley, President, Academy of Radio and Television Arts and Sciences.
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 robbery detail.
A United States mail truck is held up and robbed. 22 sacks of registered mail are taken.
The holdup men escape. There's no lead to their identity. Your job? Get them.
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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 Monday, August 4th. It was hot in Los Angeles. We were working the night watch out of robbery detail.
My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Didion. My name's Friday.
I was on the way back from communications and it was 11.05 p.m. when I got to room 27A, the squad room.
That's it. There wasn't anything else to do. One of them had a gun pressed right up against the back of my head.
I didn't dare make a move.
All right, Bud, take it easy.
Jill?
Nothing yet. The broadcast and the APB are out on him. How are you feeling, Houston?
Not bad. Still a little shaky. How about my partners, Frank and Adolf? Have they hurt bad?
No, a couple of bad bumps in the head. They'll be all right by morning.
Doctor's treating them now over at Georgia Street.
Have we talked to them tonight?
Doctor doesn't think it would be a good idea if we didn't wait till morning.
You look a little pale, Houston. You sure we can't get you something?
No, no, I'll be all right. Still a little shaky, that's all.
It's the worst scare I ever got in my life. Thought I was gone for sure.
How about a glass of water?
Yeah, yeah, okay, if you got it.
I'll be back.
You got a penny, Frank?
Yeah.
Just talking about the getaway car when you came in, Joe.
Yeah?
Houston here is pretty sure he was right the first time. It was a dark blue sedan, late model.
Any idea at all what make it work, bud?
I wouldn't like to say definitely. I don't want to mix you up. I got half an idea. It was a GM car, maybe a Buick or an Olds. I can't say for sure, though.
Here's your water.
Oh, you didn't get a look at the license, huh? You're sure of that, are you?
No, I didn't see it at all. The whole thing went too fast for me.
I appreciate this.
I got it.
Robbery, Smith.
Yes, sir.
Oh, yeah, Inspector.
Uh-huh.
Yeah, I see. Yeah, we'll be here for a while. Yeah, 27A. Right, thank you. Goodbye.
What do you got?
Post, Inspector Joe. He's on his way over now.
That's fine.
Hey, bud, when you started your run with that mail truck tonight, you have any inkling at all that there was something wrong?
I don't think I got you, Sergeant. What do you mean?
Well, I mean, did you happen to notice anyone suspicious hanging around the post office out by the loading platform, maybe?
No, no, no, buddy.
How about on your way to the Union Station? You notice any cars following your mail truck?
No, if there were, I think I'd have noticed it. I usually keep an eye out when we're making a run. It's a habit I got into, I guess.
How long have you been driving the mail truck, bud?
About five years. I've only been handling the registered mail the last couple of months, so...
Did your truck leave the post office on schedule tonight?
Yeah, right on the dot. We followed the other trucks out.
You see, the trucks that pick up the ordinary mail, they leave first, and then our truck leaves right after them.
We only handle registered stuff.
I see.
Same routine tonight, no difference.
You're the driver of the truck, that right, bud?
Yeah, that's all I do is drive. Frank's a cleric, eight officer guard. That's regulations.
On trucks that handle just the straight mail, the driver's the only one aboard.
Registered mail trucks gotta have three men, the driver, the clerk, and the guard.
Yeah, we know.
You usually drive the same route from the post office to the Union Station, do you?
Yeah, we go the same way every night, straight down Temple Street, turn right, go down Ferguson to Alameda,
then over Alameda to Union Station, make the pickup for the delivery, and then we come back the same way to the post office.
That's a Roger Foulkes night out.
Yes, sir, that's it. We didn't make it back this time.
I'd like to make sure we got this straight now, bud.
Do you mind checking us out on exactly what happened from the time you got to the Union Station?
No, no, I don't mind.
Well, try to relax if you can. Just take your time. Try to remember everything, will you?
Say, would you mind very much if I called my wife first? I know I'm gonna be late getting home. I don't want her to worry.
I'll be back right ahead, bud.
What's your number? I'll dial it.
Thanks. Pleasant 29321.
Okay.
You got a family, bud?
Yeah, three kids. Mother-in-law, too. She lives with us.
Here you are, bud.
Oh, thanks.
Lorraine? Oh, hi, Mother. Did I get you out of bed?
No, nothing's wrong. I just called to say I'd be a little late tonight. I didn't want Lorraine to worry.
No, please.
I'm not in a bar. Why do you have to say things like that?
If that's the way you feel, all right, just tell Lorraine, will you? Hello?
Mother-in-law, you never get off your back.
Sorry to interrupt, Doc.
It's all right, bud. You want to go ahead now?
Let's see. You wanted to know what happened after we left Union Station?
Yeah, that's right. What time was it when you left the station?
Right after we loaded the mail sacks on the truck, 28 sacks all registered and took off.
What time was that?
Schedule time, 9.56. Left the station, headed for the PO, drove the same route,
along Alameda to Ferguson, then up to Ferguson.
As I turned the corner, I picked up their headlights in the rear-view mirror,
and they started crowding us. I knew something was wrong. Too late to do anything, actually.
They pulled up a long side, forced you into the curb, then?
Yeah, the darkest part of the street, too. It was a big sedan, I know. They had a four-door job, dark blue, and it was a late model, I'm sure.
You notice anything special about the car, bud? I mean, maybe a dead end fender, some special accessories on it, anything like that?
No, no, nothing I'd be sure about. I was too busy trying to keep going, get out of their way.
I didn't have much of a chance. They forced us up on the sidewalk. I saw a telephone pole coming at me. I had to stop.
What happened then?
I threw a bright spotlight on it, blinded me for a minute.
These three men got out of the car and came out, there's guns in their hands.
It all happened in a couple of seconds. I was never so scared in my life.
Did you get a good look at any of the men?
No, I didn't. It was pretty dark. The place they stopped us at. I couldn't be sure I'd recognize any of them if I saw them again.
Well, what did the men do when they came up to the truck?
They put the guns in our face, made us get out of the truck and climb into their car. They were loose sedans.
And one of them got in a mail truck behind a wheel. His name was Sid. I heard that. One of the men said,
Follow us in the truck, Sid. You know where to go. That's what it said.
And you happen to hear any other names?
No, that was the only one. And Sid seemed to be the boss. He was giving the orders anyway.
They put you and your two partners in the back seat of their car?
Yeah. And the two thieves were in the front seat. One drove and the other held a gun on us.
He kept the lower part of his face covered with a handkerchief. You could see the mail truck following a little ways behind us.
They drove you straight down Alameda? Is that right?
Yes, sir. Like I told you before, I think it was about a mile, a mile and a half.
And they turned off right into that alley by the warehouse, the same place you found us.
Look at that. That was the end.
We got us out of the car, Frank, me and Adolf.
We just lined up against a brick wall there, hands up in the air, facing the wall, and then they opened up the back of the truck and transferred the mail sacks to their car.
Well, let me conversation while all this was going on.
Not too much, no. You see, one of them, I think that was Sid, he covered us with a gun, a shotgun.
The other two moved the mail sacks from the truck to the car, and every once in a while we'd sit and tell them, come on, faster. We're short on time. I think that's what he said.
Well, why'd they slug your two partners, this Frank and Adolf? Any reason to ask?
Well, that's coming to that. You see, when they got all the mail sacks in their car and they were ready to pull out, the other two guys came over to Sid and one of them said, what are we waiting for? Let's kill them and get out of here.
Yeah.
Right away our clerk, Frank, he began pleading with them not to kill us. I guess Frank was thinking of his wife and his little kid.
How did the thieves react?
When they slugged him, cranked him with a gun and hit him a couple of times, Frank went down and he started crying. Just a young kid, you know.
Yeah, I know.
Well, this other guy told Sid again, he said, come on, let's kill them, let's get out of here. He's the one who had something wrong with his voice. It was real husky, you know, like he had a cold.
Go ahead.
Well, I got to say this, Sid wasn't much for killing us. He told the other guy he didn't think they ought to kill us because they'd set him up for a murder rap besides mail robbery.
The other two guys told Sid, what's the difference? If we're going to rob the mails, we might as well go all the way. They argued about it a minute or so.
Yeah.
And my other partner, Adolf, he began to plead with him. He said, please don't kill us. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't even talk.
What did you say?
I said I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't even talk.
Oh, is that when they slugged Adolf?
Yeah, yeah, this Sid slugged him. He hit him worse than he did Frank. He kept beating him and beating him. I still hear it. I just got sick.
Well, to make a long story short, Sid finally said, we'll give him a gambler's chance. We'll toss for it.
Huh?
That's just what he said. He said, we'll toss for it. And he says, hey, you, an emotion to me. He said, I'm going to toss a coin. You call it. If you lose, we kill the three of you. If you win, we don't.
Oh.
So help me. It's the truth. I didn't know what to do. I tried to talk them out of it. They wouldn't listen. And Sid told me either I called it or they'd kill us then.
There was a coin out of his pocket and flipped it in the air. I called ahead. If I don't have to tell you, I won.
Something new for the book.
How did it go after that, bud? Tied up the three of us and drove off in their car. But 15 minutes later that night, watchmen found us and called you, fellas. You know they're right.
And you're sure you wouldn't be able to identify any of the holdup men if you saw them again?
No.
You're real sure?
No. General Bill, that's the only thing I'm sure of. This fella, Sid, was tall and a thin side, about 45, 50 years old. The other two were fairly short stocky. Like I told you, that one fella's voice, neat and husky. I think I'd know him if I heard him talk again.
Excuse me a minute.
Robert, Friday.
Yeah, well, how's it going?
Uh-huh.
Yeah, not much down.
Fine. Yeah, fine.
The getaway car, they just found it.
Where'd you?
Up in the lesion park just off Riverside.
What about the male sacks? They find them too?
Yeah, every one of them. Empty.
According to the report we've received, the getaway car was found parked in a clump of shrubbery on the edge of a lesion park about half a mile from Riverside Drive. All of the 28 registered male sacks were found scattered in and around the car and with the exception of a few pieces of mail, the sacks were empty.
A crew from the crime lab was dispatched immediately to the scene to check the car and the mail sacks for fingerprints and to cover the entire area for physical evidence. The mail truck was also gone over for prints at the point where it had been located.
The officers at the scene, Sergeant Bitteroff and Gonzalez, continued the investigation on their end.
11.50 p.m.
After the inspector from the post office department arrived, we continued our interview with Bud Houston, one of the three victims of the mail truck robbery.
We ended the interview a few minutes after midnight and Houston was driven to his home.
The following morning, along with the postal inspector, Frank Smith and I talked to the other two victims, the clerk and the guard who were with Houston at the time of the holdup.
They could add nothing to what their partner had already told us. The investigation went on. Every possible angle was checked and rechecked.
Three days passed. Nothing. Thursday, August 7th, 5.40 p.m.
Hi, Joe. How'd you make up?
Oh, it's sour. Nothing at all. The guy wasn't even in town the night of the holdup and he can prove it. You have any luck?
No, better than yours.
I might just as well have taken the day off for all the good we did. Nothing from the stats office, huh?
No. Last one we asked for won't be ready till tomorrow.
It's getting a little embarrassing, Joe. We got them checking practically every robbery card they've got. M.O., description, only a few of them come close.
We've already rolled them out as possible. The one you just checked on, that was the last.
About does it. Might as well close up shop for the day, huh? You ready?
Yeah, let's go.
All right.
I'll sign us out.
All right.
Okay, Joe. Now that mail truck driver Houston, he and his partners were in checking through our mug books again this afternoon.
Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Did they come up with anything?
I spotted one mug shot, parolee from Quentin, only a partial identity. Three of them couldn't even agree on that. I checked on the man. He's back in Quentin for a month.
I can't say the three of them aren't cooperative. They sure have been working for us, haven't they?
Hey, Joe, you in a hurry? How about watching out?
Yeah, all right.
Been a long time since we've had one start as slow as this one. We're running the worst thing.
I mean, right from the start, Joe, we find a getaway car, plenty of prints on it. Can't get a make on any of them.
Yeah, I know.
We find out the car was stolen. We check the owner, location, leads nowhere.
Prints on the steering wheel of the mail truck, parts of the mail sack, still no make. How tough can it get?
Well, they might have something when their kickback comes through from Washington. The holdup men weren't amateurs. We know that.
Joe, you check with Gonzalez and bidder off today. I didn't see him.
Yeah, they're not doing much better than the rest of us. They got an informant hot on the thing. He's supposed to have some work for them tomorrow and a couple of possibles.
Hey, how about the money taken from the mail they got? List of the serial numbers on the bills going out to anybody?
Yeah, I revised what went on late last night. Copy several of them.
Right?
Yeah, I'll be right here.
Call for you, Mr. Rodgers.
Okay, thanks. Be right there.
Okay, let's go.
All right.
Hope this call means something, Joe. I wouldn't mind going late tonight.
What do you mean?
My sister-in-law Florence, you're having me and the wife over for dinner, some kind of fancy pork dish.
What's the matter with that?
She never cooks anything until it's done. She likes things raw.
Is that so?
Imagine what that roast pork's gonna be like. We'll all end up with trichinosis.
Yeah.
Go ahead.
Mac, which one, Mac?
One, too, Joe.
Thank you.
Friday, Targon. Yeah. Oh, yeah, John.
Mm-hmm.
I'm sure it checks.
Okay, fine. About 20 minutes. 20 minutes, yeah. Right, thank you.
Anything, Joe?
Grocery detectives, they got a petty theft suspect out there now named Cecil Grant. Picked him up this morning.
What about him?
Well, he had a $20 bill on him stuffed down the corner of his pocket.
Yeah?
It checked out the serial number. It's on the list.
6.05 p.m. Frank and I got in the car and drove out to Wilshire Station where we double-checked the serial numbers on the $20 bill taken from the petty theft suspect, Cecil Grant.
It checked out. The officers at Wilshire Division had already made a run on Grant through R&I, but outside of one other arrest for petty theft, he had no further criminal record.
His fingerprints had been checked, but they failed to tie in.
The suspect was taken from his cell to the interrogation room where Bill and I questioned him. He talked a lot, but he didn't say much.
Well, now, look, there ain't any reason to get mad. We can settle this thing without a big lube, Art. No reason to get mad.
28 sacks of U.S. mail, mister. A couple of men slugged, but they couldn't stand up. We figure that's a good reason.
All right, all right. I know. Why bring your troubles and me? That wasn't in our...
You got a piece of the loot, a $20 bill. You had it in your pocket. You admit it's yours.
All right, so what?
The holdup's still fresh. It ties you in close, Cecil. You're warm enough for us.
What do you mean? What are you getting at?
You don't need me to explain it. You got a piece of the loot. You say the bill must have been in your pocket for at least a day.
That's right.
Then it's a good chance you were in contact with the thieves, either that or you're one of them.
I'm not. You know that. Couldn't have been there. I got an alibi.
Now, face it, Grant. You're not going to alibi that $20 bill. Now, how about it?
I don't know. I told you I don't know.
If it's not your job, you better check us out, Cecil, robbing the U.S. mail. I think you know what that gets you.
I don't know. Money was in my pocket. I just don't know. 25 years, 30, maybe 35. If you're not in, why fool with it?
How about it, Cecil?
I'm not in. You know that.
Then what about the 20? What about it?
Now, this is the way it happened. Guy owed me a 20. He owed it to me for six months, maybe more.
Tuesday came around, paid off. Gave me that bill you got.
This last Tuesday?
That's right. I thought it was funny, but he's a nice guy. I didn't want to make trouble.
How do you mean?
Well, when he paid me the 20 back, he said, well, look, the bill isn't phony, but don't let it out for a couple of days.
The bill's okay, but just sit on it, maybe a week or two. That's just what he told me.
Who was it? Where did we find him?
He's a nice guy, friend. I don't want to make trouble.
It's already made. Now, what about it?
Johnny Carter, 380 Nashville Avenue, Apartment 2.
You are listening to Dragnet, authentic stories of your police force in action.
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August 7th, Thursday, 6.55 p.m. We called R&I, but they had no make on the name John Carter.
My partner, Frank Smith, and I left Wilshire Division and headed out to check on the address given us by the theft suspect Cecil Grant.
The 300 block on Nashville Avenue was in West Hollywood, just below Melrose.
Number 380 was an aging two-story apartment house. The architecture was Old Spanish, a relic of the mid-20s.
The name John Carter appeared on one of the mailboxes, but when we rang, there was no answer.
We contacted the apartment manager and he told us John Carter worked at night at a downtown garage.
Along with the manager, we went up to the second floor and checked through the suspect's apartment.
We found nothing to indicate that he'd taken part in the mail hold-up.
After a routine interview with the manager, we got the name and address of the garage where Carter was employed and we left.
8.23 p.m. We pulled up and parked half a block away from Carter's place of employment, an all-night service garage on South Figueroa.
Frank waited in the car and I headed up the block alone toward the garage.
In the event Carter was one of the mail truck hold-up men, it was a possibility his two confederates might be employed at the same place he was.
If this was the case, we didn't want to tip them off.
Hi.
Yeah, you want something more?
Yeah, I do. I need a little help if you've got the time.
I don't know. I'm busy right now. What's the matter?
I got my car stalled down the street there. I can't figure out what's wrong. A lousy thing just stopped on me.
All right. Check the gas tank?
Yeah, nothing as simple as that. I got almost a full tank.
Well, I hate to bother you. You think you could come down and take a look at it? It's not far, just a half a block down the street.
I'm pretty busy. You can see that. I don't know.
Sure appreciate it if you give it a look. I'm not much of a mechanic myself. Probably something real small. My car's almost new.
No, no, just a minute.
All right, that's gonna have to do it.
It's two and a half service charge, a half liter garage. I guess you know that.
Okay, that's all right with me. I gotta get that car started.
You're paying in advance. We've had too many hassles on this before.
Okay.
Where you go?
Yeah, okay.
Just down the street, you said?
Yeah, down this way.
Okay.
I don't know what happened to the lousy thing. It just quit on you.
I know. Nice night. What'd you do, a pound on a gas pedal, flood the carburetor?
No, I don't think so. I kept trying to start it when the thing quit on me. There's an automatic choke on the car though. Maybe that had flooded. I don't know.
A half a block now. Which one's your car?
Straight ahead, Dad. A great sedan.
Oh, yeah.
This one right here.
Okay, yeah.
Well, never mind that, mister. Just get in the car. All right, thanks.
Oh, what's this?
Police officer. Just identification. Get in the car.
What's the matter? What is it?
Come on, come on. In the car.
Hey, what's the pitch? What's it all about?
Your name, John Carter, address 380 Nashville Avenue.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Is that your name and address?
All right, it is. What about it?
Get him behind you. Help him, Frank.
Yeah.
All right, that's good.
Why are you trying to pull? What's this about?
U.S. mail robbery, Carter. I want to talk to you downtown.
I don't know anything about any mail robbery. What are you talking about?
Nothing to worry over. If you're cleared, you'll be back on the job in an hour.
Oh, why pick me? I work at Garage. It's my bread and butter. Why don't you go ahead and arrest the newsboy down at Corner or something?
No, there's a big difference.
Yeah? You name it.
A $20 bill.
9.05 p.m. After checking with the garage manager to make sure none of his employees were possible accomplices of Carter's,
we drove the suspect back to the city hall, took him to the interrogation room, and started to question him.
In the space of an hour and a half, he gave us three alibis, supposedly accounting for his whereabouts the night of the mail truck robbery.
In the same period of time, we checked out each of the three alibis by phone call. Every one of them was alive.
The questioning went on. 11.30. Midnight. 12.30 a.m. We set out for coffee. 1 a.m. 1.30. We stayed on it.
2 o'clock. 2.30. 3 a.m. It was like any other interrogation. It's a lot tougher to keep asking the questions than to answer them.
We were as tired as the suspect, but he had one big advantage. We had to keep pressing, and we couldn't afford to show our fatigue.
All he had to do was to say no and refuse to answer the question.
At a few minutes before 5 a.m., we called a halt to the interrogation, but not before we gained a point.
Apparently, by a slip of the tongue, Carter gave us the name of the girl he was keeping company with and also her place of employment.
After we booked Carter on suspicion of 211 PC, and after we picked up two hours sleep, we located the girlfriend,
a Grace Nelson, at her place of employment, a telegraph office at Alpine and South Flower.
All I know is I met John about three months ago. His family's from Cedar Rapids, same as mine.
There's nothing wrong with John I know of.
You don't know any of his friends, Miss Nelson, any of the people he has dealings with?
Not personally I don't. Heard him talk about something though. Why, what's the matter?
Do you remember any of the names, Miss Nelson?
I don't see. He's always talking about Sid. I don't know his last name though.
I don't know where you'd find him. Then there's Sammy. I don't remember his last name either.
I met Sammy once, but I don't know where he stays.
Did you notice anything unusual about Mr. Carter the last week or so, ma'am? I mean, anything peculiar, anything out of the ordinary.
Any peculiar? No, I don't think so. John's been just as nice as ever to me.
I like him very much. Matter of fact, he's been nicer than he's ever been.
How do you mean, Miss?
Well, for my birthday, I mean, last Wednesday.
Yeah.
He was so sweet about it. I mean, really sweet. He gave me $400. Gave it to me in cash.
Told me to go out and buy what I wanted. Wouldn't you say that's sweet?
Do you have any of that money left, Miss Nelson?
Yes, of course I have. See, right here, my case. See, right there. More than half of it.
Did Carter tell you where he got this money, Miss Nelson?
Gambling game. He said he wanted the cards. What's wrong?
Serial numbers, ma'am. His money was taken in a holdup, U.S. mail.
They've got a pretty good reason to suspect Carter.
You mean John's a thief? That's how he got the money? I can't believe it.
Quite as true, ma'am.
So hard to believe. I hope you don't think I had anything to do with it. I mean, robbing people, mails.
Are you sure it's John Carter you want? Yes, ma'am, we're pretty sure.
We understand you were pretty close to him. He said the two of you were going to get married.
I don't know. We did have it said at one time, but now I don't know.
I mean, I have people in this town, my whole family. I couldn't let this get out, ma'am.
You're willing to admit the $400 you got came from John Carter, the same bills that he gave him to you?
I don't know. I love John. I want to hurt him. I really love him.
Tell me the truth. What's going to happen?
Well, he's going to be charged with robbery, ma'am, holding up a U.S. mail truck, taking 28 sacks of registered mail.
John? John Carter?
That's right, him and two others. I'd like to ask you one more question, miss.
Do you have any idea what Carter was up to, the robbery, Emmy?
Me? Of course not. No idea at all. I love John. I love him for what I thought he was.
I'd go through anything for him. I love him. Just wouldn't make any sense, though, would it?
Ma'am?
Going to jail for him. Just common sense. You can't love anybody that much.
That afternoon, we had the suspect John Carter brought from his cell to the interrogation room where he was confronted with a testimony of both Cecil Grant and Grace Nelson, two of the people he'd given some of the stolen money to.
Another hour of interrogation and Carter broke. He admitted taking part in the holdup and gave us the name of his partner.
He named as the leader and mastermind of the robbery a Sidney Grover at an address in Highland Park.
Frank and I checked it out.
Yeah?
Police officers. You Sidney Grover?
Yeah. I'm not feeling so well. Can't you come back later? I'm not feeling well at all.
It's kind of important, Grover. I'd like to talk to you downtown.
Come back later, huh? A little later on. I got so many troubles right now. Please.
I'd like to talk to you about a holdup, Grover. A mail truck. We got the two men who worked it for you. They gave us the whole story.
Two men? What do you mean? Can't you see I got troubles? Please don't bother me. Come back later, huh? Bad trouble.
You better get your coat, Grover. I got to talk to you downtown.
Look, don't you understand? My son's left me. My only boy. In fact, his baggie walked out. He left me.
Ray, that's your problem, mister. He said he didn't want any part of me. He had an argument. He didn't like what I was doing. Big argument.
He slapped my face. My own boy. And he walked out. He slapped my face.
All right. You want to get your coat? Yeah. Okay.
Mail job. Is that it? Got the other two? Yeah, we got them.
All right. No argument.
I didn't try to run away. I guess you can see that. My boy said I was a crook. We argued. He slapped me. He walked out.
Can't come, Sergeant. I wouldn't know. Let's go, Grover.
A sour story, huh? An old man trying a mail robbery. I'm 55. I don't look it, do I?
Kid slapped my face. He said I was a crook. I couldn't get him back. My only boy.
Wish he hadn't called me a crook. But it's our story, isn't it? Yeah, it's sour. Let's go.
The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On November 29th, trial was held in Superior Court, 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, there's one thing I'd like you to remember the next time you buy cigarettes.
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Sidney Allen Grover, along with his two accomplices, John Harold Carter and Samuel Maxwell Johnson, were tried and convicted of robbery in the first degree, one count, and assault with a deadly weapon, one count.
All three are serving their terms in the state penitentiary. First degree robbery is punishable by imprisonment from five years to life.
Assault with a deadly weapon is punishable by imprisonment for not less than one, nor more than ten years.
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 Wynn, Sergeant Vance Risher. Heard tonight were Herb Ellis, Big Perrin, and Inga Hollis.
The script by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schuman. Hal Gibney speaking.
Patema cigarettes, best of all, king-size cigarettes, brought to you by Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles.
Now, it's Counterspy on NBC.