Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed
to protect the innocent.
Dragment.
You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to hit and run felony detail. A young woman
has been run down and seriously injured. The driver of the car has fled from the scene.
Your job, find him.
It was Tuesday, April 7th. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch
at the traffic bureau. Hit and run felony detail. My partner is Frank Smith. The boss is Captain
Calfee. My name is Friday. We're on our way out from the office. It was 8.40 a.m. when
we got to 1784 Byron Street. Front door.
Better try it again.
It sounds like somebody coming.
Yeah? Something you want?
Miss Hunter?
That's right. Who you want?
Police officers. We like to talk to you.
Oh, about the thing last night, huh?
Yes, ma'am. That's right.
Well, come on in. I can't stand around for long. I'm going to be late for work as it is.
Come on.
Thank you. This is my partner, Frank Smith. My name is Friday.
How do you do?
Hi. Sit down there. I've got to get ready to leave. There's some coffee there in the craft
you want.
No, thank you. No, ma'am. Thank you.
Would you mind pouring me a cup? You'll find everything right there on the table. Two sugars.
All right.
What do you want to know about last night? I told the officer who were there, oh, I know.
Yes, ma'am. We know. We read their report. We'd like to go over with you. It's all right.
It seems like a waste of time to me.
Then a little more of it. Trying to catch the kid that hit the girl. It'd be better all
the way around.
Ma'am, there's your coffee.
Oh, thank you.
You're warm.
Either one of you got a cigarette?
Yes, ma'am. Here you are. Here's the light.
Thanks. What do you want to go over?
Well, according to what you said to the officers last night, you saw the accident, is that right?
I saw it, yeah. I don't think it was an accident. If you ask me, I think the kid deliberately
hit the girl, deliberately.
Why do you say that?
Well, just the way it looked, that's all. Kind of feeling. Wade came barreling around the
corner. He must have seen her. She was right under the light, didn't even make an attempt
to stop, none at all. I saw the girl step off the curb. Right under the light, he had
to see her, had to. Anyway, she stepped off the curb and started to cross the street.
Hearing me saw her, she started to cross and then all of a sudden this kid in the hot rod
was coming right at her. Wasn't anything she could do.
That's bad.
She kind of looked up at the car and then, well, like she was going to run. But she didn't
have time. The car hit her and knocked her down.
Did you get a good look at the car?
You mean the one that hit her?
Yes, ma'am.
You bet I did. Passed right under the light, got a real good look at it.
I wonder if you'd describe it for us.
I told the cops all about it last night. It seems like that'd be enough. Why do I have
to go through it again?
Well, it might be something he didn't think of last night, Miss Hunter. Something he might
have forgotten.
It's unlikely, but if you've got to have it, I guess that's the way it's got to be. Hope
we can get it over with fast enough. I've got to get down to the corner so I won't miss
my bus.
Well, if it'll help, we can drive you to work. You can give us the information on the way.
Well, that'll be fine. Wait a minute, I'll get my coat.
Uh-huh.
Hotter look when you came in.
Ma'am?
Did it look like it was going to rain?
No, it was pretty cold, though.
The papers said it might rain today. Well, I better take an umbrella.
What kind of a car was it, Miss Hunter?
A hot rod, you know the kind. Real low, two exhaust pipes, kind of beat up.
What kind of a car was it, the Bradley?
Well, I guess it was a Ford. It looked like one.
Hard to tell, it was kind of banged up, you know.
I don't know why the police allow cars like that on the streets anyway. It couldn't be
very safe.
Can you tell us what year the car was?
Well, I'm not real good at that, but I'd say maybe in 1940. It might have been 1941.
It was a pre-war car, though, are you sure of that?
Oh, yeah, I'm sure of that.
Uh-huh.
Would you like to get in, ma'am?
Where can we drop you, ma'am?
Near First and Broadway will be fine, just on the corner there.
Okay.
Miss Hunter, was there anything about the car that would make it easier to identify?
Not especially. Black Ford, all beat up. I'm sure I'd know it if I saw it again, any place.
Did you get a good look at the driver of the car?
No, not too good. All I could say was that he was a kid, you know, maybe 19, 20 years
old.
Uh-huh.
Would you like to see a get that kid? Is the girl all right? She looked pretty bad last
night.
No, she's still in a critical condition. Doctors aren't sure yet whether she'll be all right.
I sure hope she is. Have you talked to her?
No, we haven't, not yet.
That's a terrible thing. Kids like that running around in hot rods, bailing around the city,
freaking not safe on the streets anymore.
Well, just because a car's got twin tailpipes, Miss Hunter, doesn't have to be a hot rod.
This one was. Even have the little sort of license plate hanging down from the back bumper.
You mean a state license plate?
No, one of those with the club name on it. You know the kind.
There's not a notation of that on the report that we remember.
I guess I forgot all excitement at all. I must have forgot.
Well, did you see the name on that plate?
Yeah. Not real good, but I saw it.
Think you can remember it?
Not all of it. The last part was wheels, something wheels, two words.
You're pretty sure that, all right?
Yeah, wheels. That's the word I saw. I didn't remember it last night.
I guess it didn't seem important then.
Must be a lot of cars that have those plates on them all over town.
Yes, we know.
Don't seem like it's going to help much. A lot of cars with those plates on them.
Watch out for them.
Yes, ma'am.
Even if you do find a kid with one of them, how are you going to know if he's the right one?
Well, it's not going to be too hard.
Huh?
Miss Carr will tell us.
According to the report, an automobile driven by one male occupant had struck a woman while she crossed the
intersection of Olympic Boulevard and Connecticut Street the night before.
When the ambulance arrived at the scene, the victim, who was identified as Mrs. Helen Chapman, was unconscious
and was removed to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital for emergency treatment.
Members of the crime lab had arrived at the scene and gathered what physical evidence they could find.
All citizens in the vicinity were interrogated and their statements were taken.
Photographs of the coroner were made and held for evidence.
Because of the hit and run aspect of the case, Frank and I had been assigned to investigate it.
At 1.14 p.m. we drove over to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital to talk to the attending physician, Dr. Sebastian.
He said the patient's condition was so critical that she couldn't be moved to her own hospital.
He told us that the victim hadn't recovered consciousness to the point where she could be questioned.
He went on to tell us that she'd been administered serum albumin to counteract shock.
He listed her injuries for us.
Pound-pound fractures of the femur, rib fractures and associated internal injuries, including a punctured lung and brain concussion.
It was not expected that she'd live.
Frank and I left the doctor and walked down the hall.
In the waiting room we met a tall thin man who looked as if he hadn't slept for several days.
On the floor in front of him was a small pile of half-smoked cigarettes.
He identified himself as the victim's husband, Carl Chapman.
I don't know, I came up from work. They told me about it. I didn't even know.
Didn't they try to call you at work?
No, I guess they called the house. There wasn't anybody home.
I just walked up to the door and there was a note telling me to call there.
I didn't even know about Helen.
I see. You like cigarettes, Chapman?
Thanks.
You talked to the doctor?
Yes, sir, we just did.
Is there anything new that you can be all right?
Well, I don't know yet. You can ask the doctor yourself.
Why don't anybody tell me anything?
All the time I ask how my wife is, they tell me to ask the doctor. Why won't they tell me?
I don't know, sir.
Can't even find out if she needs anything. He won't let me see her.
Anybody will tell me what's really happening in there. It's been over ten hours. Nobody will tell me what's going on.
Try to sit down and take it easy, Mr. Chapman.
Oh, that's great to say. Just sit down.
Easy to say. It's not your wife who's in there. It isn't someone you love.
Why are you here anyway? Why aren't you out trying to get the rotten little plunk that did it?
Why don't you look for him?
We'll get to him, sir.
When? After Helen's dead? Is that going to be when you start looking?
We're looking for him now. We came over in the hopes that we could talk to your wife.
We thought she might be able to give us some information.
What in God's name do you want from her? The name and address of the kid who ran it down?
Does she have to get out of bed and go find him for you?
It's your job. Yours. All this talk about the police department being so good. But what are you doing?
You standing around here with your toe in the dirt waiting for my wife to come to and not to point the kid out.
All right, sir. Now take it easy.
Take it easy? Nothing.
You listen to me, both of you. You listen.
If she dies, if that kid killed her, I'll find him. I don't know how, but I will.
I'm going to do the same thing to him with my hands that he did with this car.
I'll find him. I swear I'll find him and I'm going to kill him.
With my hands I'm going to kill him.
Mr. Chapman? Yeah.
Can I see you for a moment? Yeah.
Did you excuse us for a minute, Sergeant?
Sure, Doc. We'll wait out in the hall.
Rough one, isn't it? Yeah.
I wonder what's going on in there.
I don't know. Better call the strip.
Tell them about that plate on the car. Get a broadcast out on it.
Check the phone book for the address of the National Hot Rod Association.
Better talk with them. They might have something for us on the club.
Right.
You better start, cop.
You better find your pass because I'm looking too.
You ought to go home and get some sleep, Mr. Chapman. You're all worn out.
I'm not going to get any sleep until I catch that kid.
I'm dead. I can't catch that kid.
How is the girl?
She's dead. Both of them are.
She's going to have a baby in a couple of months.
3.15 p.m. Frank and I drove out to the offices of the National Hot Rod Association on Hollywood Boulevard.
We met with Bud Coons and Wally Parks.
They checked their records for clubs with the last name Wheels.
There were three in their files.
Two were in the eastern part of the United States and one was listed as having headquarters in Alhambra, California.
We obtained the name and address of the president of the club and we drove out to see him.
We found him in the garage behind the house working on a 1941 Ford.
We introduced ourselves and he asked us to sit down.
What do you want to see me about?
We understand that you're the president of the Square of Wheels, right?
Yeah, that's right. Why?
How many members do you have in the club?
Eighteen. Eighteen actors. There was a couple of guys in the service.
What's this all about anyway? How come the questions?
All your members have the metal plates with the club name on their car?
Yeah. You get them when they pay the initiation fee. Why?
Anybody else have them?
Not legally.
What do you mean?
Well, a couple of them have been stolen from members.
Any of the fellows in the club drive a black pre-war Ford?
Yeah, I guess we got about five of them. I got one myself as a matter of fact.
Listen, why can't you tell me what this is all about?
Figure if I knew what you wanted, I could help you out.
Well, a woman was run down by a hot rod last night.
One of the witnesses saw a plate on the car that might have been from your club.
No kidding.
That's the way we get it.
What did it look like?
Well, I'd say it had twin pipes, pretty well beat up, white sidewall tires.
It's not one of ours then?
You sound pretty sure about the plate.
I told you, we've had a couple of them stolen. Must have been one of them.
Well, how come you're so sure it wasn't one of your members?
Oh, I know the car's in the club. There isn't a yo-yo in the bunch.
What's a yo-yo?
Oh, yeah, you know, a shop rod, junkie.
Oh, I see.
I don't know. It seems like every time there's any trouble with a car over five years old, it's a hot rod. Sure not fair.
That's so.
Yeah. Come here, I'll show you.
Now, take a look at that. I've been working on it for three years. Got over 1,200 bucks in it.
Take a look at it.
It's a lot of motor. Yeah, it's a good car, but what's it prove?
The car that ran that woman down wasn't a hot rod.
How do you figure that?
You said it was a wreck, didn't you?
That's right.
We haven't got a wreck that's allowed on the streets in this club.
I don't know a legal club that has a yo-yo in it.
We got a safety check every month. Any car that isn't safe has to be fixed for the guys out.
A lot of clubs operate that way.
Yeah, we know.
Now, kids build rods for two reasons.
Because they want the cars to run better, be more efficient, or else they want something a little different than you can buy in a showroom.
Well, all this sounds good, but a woman was killed last night by a kid driving a hopped-up car of some kind.
Maybe it had twin pipes, a loud muffler, but I'll give you odds from here to Bonneville that it wasn't a hot rod.
I know how guys feel. Every kid I know who's on a second-hand car is a potential killer.
The way the paper's pictures, we just roam around looking for somebody to run over.
That's not true. You check the records.
I think you'll find that the ratio between tickets given out and numbers of hot rods are any good.
They're getting a bunch a year and a half. The one before that was for overtime parking.
Oh, I'm sorry, fellas. That car last night wasn't one of our guys, and you can bet he wasn't a hot rodder either.
You got any way of knowing who could have gotten the flash?
Well, not right off, but we'll find him.
How?
There's only so many streets in Los Angeles. We'll find him.
Guys like that make things rough on the clean drivers in this town. We'll find him for you.
I don't really appreciate any help you can give us on this, but it's a police business. If you find him, give us a call right away.
Don't worry. We will.
How do I get in touch with you?
I'll leave you one of our cards. Anytime. You call us.
All right. I'll get on the phone and get the fellas rounded up.
You turn it all the way.
One eight.
Well, that's a good one.
Shoot.
We're driving to the hospital.
We're driving to the hospital.
We're driving to the hospital.
6.40 p.m. Frank and I got back to the office.
During the afternoon, the broadcast on the car had gone over the state wire, and every police officer in the state of California was looking for the hit-and-run car.
When we checked with communications, our broadcast, 7.15 p.m.
we put on a call to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital, and we talked again to Dr. Sebastian.
He told us that the victim's husband, Carl Chapman, had been placed under the care of his family doctor.
And he's been sent to a check-up over on July 4th.
We met back in the squad room.
Any word yet?
No. Got a call from Al Gibbs.
Hot Rod Club?
Yeah. He says all the clubs in the area are looking for the car. They divided the city up in sections. Members are checking all the streets.
No luck, though, huh?
No, nothing.
Well, they turned a couple of cars, but they don't check out. How'd you do?
Pretty good. Got the report here.
Uh-huh. I had a couple sandwiches sent in. Got your Swiss on rye.
Good.
In the bag there.
Where's the coffee?
Right there, carton.
Oh.
The lab sure did a good job on this stuff here.
Uh-huh.
Here's a scene. Victim was found ten feet four inches from the northeast corner,
four feet eight inches from the north pedestrian crosswalk.
And put it about here, wouldn't it?
Yeah. They found particles of broken glass.
Checked on with the lighthouse.
Light keepers.
Uh-huh.
Got it. I looked at it. It's new.
Any brand names?
Yeah, but it's not going to help much. Distributed all over the country.
Well, how about skid marks? Any sign of them?
No, not the... Either the kid didn't have time to use them or else he didn't want to.
I came up with this, though.
Yeah, what's that?
Well, some marks from a tire.
Lee says he thinks they were made when the kid dug out to get away, spun the back wheels.
Sure indicate that he didn't mean to stop at any time, huh?
Well, that's the way Lee's got it figured.
I got it.
Don't worry.
Yeah.
Anybody there?
No. No, keep it under surveillance. We'll be right out.
Yeah. Don't burn it.
Right. Bye.
What do you got?
It's beginning to go our way, maybe.
Huh?
They found the car.
During a route...
...to keep it on full host.
Frank and I notified the crime lab of the find, and then we left the office and drove out to the location.
We talked to the officers in the police car, and they told us that they hadn't seen anyone near them.
We checked the registration and found that the registered owner was a Jack Moore.
The white slip gave us an address in Hollywood.
While the crime lab went over the car, we drove out to Moore's address to talk to him.
He lived in a large house built in the mid-twenties as a private residence.
It had been converted into a boarding house.
Frank covered the rear entrance. I rang the front doorbell.
Yeah? What do you want waking me up this time of night?
Police officers. You have a tenant here named Jack Moore?
What about it?
We'd like to talk to him.
Too late, Mac. He ain't here.
Who is he?
I don't know. He moved out this afternoon. He didn't say where he was going.
A thorough search was made in the suspect's room.
The manager told us that Moore had come home that morning, packed his belongings, and left the house.
We called the crime lab, and Lieutenant Lee Jones told us that they'd established that Moore's car was the one that had run down the Chapman Girl.
We talked to the other people in the rooming house. None of them could tell us where Moore might have gone.
We put in a call to auto records, but the car was not listed as being stolen.
Frank called his name into R&I, but we found that he had no felony record.
From the occupants of the rooming house, we found that the suspect had no relatives in this state and no close friends that they could recall.
Layton Prince came out and went over the room, and going over it, we found a wastebasket Moore had used to dispose of articles that he didn't want.
In the basket, we found several match folders from a bar out on Westland Street.
We put in a call to the bar, but we found that it was closed.
When we entered the rooming house, we got a good description of the suspect along with the information that he received no mail and that he was apparently unemployed.
A stakeout was set up on the house, and at 3.36 a.m., Frank and I checked out of the office and went home for the night.
The next day, Wednesday, April 8th, we contacted DMV and asked that they give us all information on the car, 15 a.m.
We drove over to the bar on West 7th Street.
Not open yet, Doc.
Police officers, I'd like some information.
License is back there on the wall, in plain sight, there's nothing going on here.
You have a customer in here named Jack Moore?
We just opened the doors, we got no say about who comes in, as long as they don't cause trouble, we don't either.
This guy's about 20 or 21, 5'8 to 5'10, 165 pounds, blonde.
His name's Moore, Jack Moore.
What's he done?
Do you want to talk to him?
About what?
Police business. Have you seen him?
Nothing that's going to get the bar in trouble.
That's a simple question, mister, have you seen him?
Maybe, yeah.
You tell me what it's all about, I might be able to help you out.
You're running out of time, have you seen Jack Moore?
Yep.
When?
Last night.
Here?
Yeah, he was in, got liquored up, I tossed him out when we closed.
Where is he now?
You better ask him.
I'm going to tell you once more, if you know where he is, you're going to save yourself a lot of time by cooperating with us.
I run a clean place here, I don't want any trouble with the cops.
My license is on the wall, I've got no choice if the customers are coming here, I don't want to get mixed up in any of this.
We're not calling it that way.
That's the way it is, this is a clean place.
That's not what the book says, you've been tabbed a couple of times for serving minors, you run B Girls, you haven't served straight liquor in here for a couple of years.
Now get me a sandwich.
Oh now look fellas, I was just trying to take care of myself.
You did, get your coat.
Isn't there some way we can work this thing out, I don't want any trouble.
Where's Jack Moore?
I tried to run a clean place a couple of times, I've been...
We've been over all that before, now where is he?
I got him up at my place.
You there now?
I guess so, he got pretty loaded last night, told me he didn't have any place to pad down, I took him home.
What's the address?
1862 and a half Woodworth Court, room 14.
Alright, let's go.
Yeah, and don't try to call him.
I got no phone in the room.
He's done anything, I had no part in it, just trying to help a friend out, that's all, just help a friend out.
Yeah sure.
You tell him that, oh he got me in trouble, all because I tried to help him out, you just tell him.
Yeah we will.
Tell him not to come around here anymore.
Tell him to keep out, tell him that will you, for me? Tell him not to come back?
Don't you worry about it, he won't be back.
We called the office and another team of detectives came out to the bar to keep the bartender under surveillance in the event that he might try to contact the suspect.
It took five and a half minutes to drive to the Woodworth Street address.
It was a large building located at the end of a blind street.
Room 14 was on the third floor in the front of the building.
Frank and I approached the room and we listened.
There was no sound from inside.
You want to try the door?
Yeah.
There he is on the bed.
Yeah, looks like the right guy.
Let's wake him up.
Come on, come on, wake up.
Come on.
Let me alone, Charlie.
Come on, get up, get up.
Let me alone.
I told you Charlie, let me.
What are you guys, what are you doing here?
Police officers, you're under arrest.
Wait a minute.
I got him.
Come on, stand still.
All right.
All right, I quit.
I quit.
You want to shake him, Frank?
Yeah.
Yeah, he's clean.
Where you taking me?
I ain't done nothing.
You got no reason to push me around like this.
Let's go.
Where?
Where you going to take me?
Downtown.
For what?
Manslaughter.
I didn't do it, I didn't.
You got the wrong guy.
You got the wrong one.
I didn't do it.
All right, come on, let's move.
But you got the wrong one.
I didn't do it.
I didn't know what you wanted.
That's why I run.
I didn't know what you wanted.
Well, you do now, so let's go.
The suspect was taken to the squad room where he was questioned.
He refused to admit any part in the crime.
He was confronted with the physical evidence and with the ownership of the hit-run vehicle.
The witness to the crime came to the office and said that Jack Moore was the man that
she'd seen at the wheel of the car when Helen Chapman had been run down.
Throughout the interrogation, the suspect refused to say anything.
At 1.47 p.m., the door to the squad room opened and Carl Chapman came in.
Where is he?
I know he's here.
I want to see him.
I take it easy, Captain.
I heard you caught him.
I want to see him.
I want to tell you.
Is that the kid?
Are you the one?
Are you the one who killed Helen?
Well, answer me.
I take it easy, Captain.
Is he the one?
The evidence points that way, yeah.
Please.
I want you to do something for me.
What's that?
Go away.
Out of here, please.
We can't do that, Chapman.
He's in custody.
Please, please leave me alone with him.
Come on, Chapman.
You'd better wait outside.
Just a minute.
Listen to me, kid.
When they put you in that cell, you get down on your knees and thank God that they found
you before I did, you understand?
You thank him and every day you live, you thank him.
You do that because I would have killed you.
Take it easy, Chapman.
My wife's dead because of him.
Hear that?
You killed her.
They got laws to save people like you, but none for her.
None for her and the baby.
They didn't have any laws.
None for them.
All right, Chapman.
Come on, take it easy.
Frank, you're going to have to do something.
Frank?
Come on, sir.
Yeah.
Pretty upset, ain't he?
I want you to remember something, kid.
In the years I've been in this department, I've seen some bad ones, real bad.
Teenage kids that didn't know any better scraped up off the pavement, sent home to their
parents.
Drunkards who were too loaded to know what went on.
There's been a lot of them go through here, but you finished way ahead of the field, boy.
You talk good.
I bet you're on a lecture team around here.
I'm getting fed up with you kids roaming the streets in death traps, and I don't care about
you.
You want to wrap yourself around a post you go ahead with.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.
You're going to be a good kid.