 were about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned the homicide detail. A small boy is reported missing from his home. His age nine years. Foul play is suspected. Your job? Find him. 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 Thursday December 22nd. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the night watch out a homicide. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Thad Brown, Chief of Detectives. My name's Friday. I was on the way into work and it was 3.55 p.m. when I got to room 42. Homicide. Hi, Joe. Ben? Well, here's the file on the Webster case. I'm going to follow up with me. Yeah, I get it. Homicide, Friday. This Levinson unit 113 J. Got something for you. Yeah, Harry, what's doing? Dordy and I are out here on Thomas Avenue. 46 56. Trying to track down a nine-year-old boy. Yeah, what's the story? The kid's missing. Suspicion to foul play. How long has he been gone? About two hours. Looks like a job for homicide. How'd he figure? The kid was last seen playing in the backyard of his home. Yeah? We checked over the yard. Did you find anything? Blood stains. Lots of them. They look new. Ben and I left a message for Chief of Detectives, Thad Brown. Then we went over to the crime lab, picked up Lieutenant Lee Jones and drove out the Royal Seaco Freeway to Collis Avenue. It was an average neighborhood. Number 46 56 was a one-story green stucco residence situated on the corner of Collis Avenue in Harrison Drive. Beyond the backyard was a tract of undeveloped land covered with scrub oak. Harry Levinson from Highland Park Juvenile was waiting for us in front of the house. Go back this way, fellas. Coming, Lynch. I'll get my bag. Who were the fights you built the boy was missing, Harry? The mother said she went out to do some Christmas shopping by 11 this morning. He left the boy home. She came back about two this afternoon. He was gone. What's the name? John Stone. The kid's name is Stanley, nine years old. Was this gate open like this when you got here? Yeah, I haven't touched a thing. You hear the stains over here, Lieutenant Jones, along the edge of the walk? See? Yeah. Let me see. Quite a few stains. Yeah. Looks like it might be blood. Probably some benzidine on them. See what happened? Where's the kid's mother now, Harry? Yeah, in the house. Dory's talking to her. Did you talk to any of the neighbors? People next door, the ones on this side. They couldn't tell us anything. There it is, fellas. Yelly. These spots I covered with benzidine are turning blue. Bloodstain's all right. You can't say definitely whether it's human or animal blood. You have to go back to the lab to run it through. Yeah, a biological precipitant test. Hand me one of those glass files on my bag, will you? Yeah, sure. Okay, here you go. Okay. Scrape some flakes off for a test. There we are. How soon can you pack the blood for us, Lane? The precipitant test won't run more than 20 minutes. It'll take three or four hours to run a blood grouping, though. That's it. Anything else you want to check? Levinson? Anything else? Well, yeah. Right here in my handkerchief. Empty shell. That marker over there by the rose bush? That's where I found it. I'm a 22, huh? Yeah. Might tie in, might not. Well, I couldn't dump it in this envelope. There you go. Oh, yeah. You got a missing broadcast on the boy here. I already did about a half an hour ago. Here's a description here. Thank you. Does my mother know about the bloodstain? No, we didn't tell her. She's worried enough already. She has no idea what might have happened to her boy, huh? No more than we do. She checked all her friends and relatives. We're covering the neighborhood in a case so far. Not much to go on. Bloodstain. Empty cartridge. Yeah, it could mean a hundred things. Any ideas, Freddie? Just one, and I don't like it. 4.30 p.m. Thursday, December 22nd. The neighborhood search for nine-year-old Stanley Johnstone continued. Lee Jones went back to the crime lab to start the precipitant test and the blood grouping. Levinson and his partner, Dorothy, from Highland Juvenile stood by. We called Chief of Detectives Thad Brown, and he ordered up a special detail to aid in the search for the missing boy. Ben and I questioned the boy's mother, Mrs. Ruth Johnstone, a woman in her early 40s. She seemed fairly calm under the circumstances. Ms. Johnson, is your boy Stanley in the habit of wandering off without telling you where he's going? No, he's not in the habit of wandering off, but he has done it before. Well, when was the last time, Ms. Johnson? You don't have any children, do you, Sergeant Freddie? No, ma'am. I'm not married. Well, there comes a time in every young boy's life when he feels that it's time to leave home, go out on his own. Usually happens somewhere around eight to ten. I think I know what you mean. I have a boy. Well, then you know how it is. My husband and I are schooled as Stanley one afternoon after school, and he was quite put out about it. But George and I weren't fair. Dr. Field, his things left. Well, how long was he gone? Oh, no time at all, about two hours. I was worried about him, but my husband said to leave him alone, but every boy had to go through that stage. Well, then you think that he's right away from home again this time? Yes, I think so. He's been gone about four hours now, and I have a funny feeling about it. Did you and his father have some misunderstanding with the boy recently? That's just it. We haven't. I don't mind telling you now that we're talking about it. I am getting worried. Well, there's no place around that he might like to visit a hobby shop, playground, someplace he might be. Yes, there's Jensen's model shop, Little Sharon Burroughs, but I've already called there, and he hasn't seen all day. I've called all his friends, and they have no idea who he is either. Well, we'd like a list of all of his friends and the places that he was known to frequent. Yes, all right. I'll get into you. Where do you suppose he is? Where's your husband now, Ms. Johnson? Good work. George works with the city as a fireman. What house is he taking now? Engine Company 12. He's working the A-part soon. He'll be home tomorrow morning. I haven't told him his family's gone. Was there any chance the boy might be down at the firehouse with his father? No, he seldom goes down there anymore. No, I don't think he's there. I'm awfully worried. May I call my husband? Certainly, go right ahead. I know George will be worried. Engine Company 12, please. Stanley's been gone too long. Hello? Now, please speak with George Johnson. This is Mrs. Johnson. Thank you. I hate to call George at his word. Yes, ma'am. Does your husband own the gun? Yes, he does. What caliber do you know? It's a .45 automatic. He got a nut. George? This is Ruth. George, stand me down here with you by any chance. Oh. No, I can't find him anywhere. He wasn't here when I came home from doing my shopping. There are two policemen here. No, I said there are two policemen here. No, dear. I'll call you if we don't find him soon. All right, dear. Yes, you too. Goodbye. I didn't think he'd be with George. At .45. Is that the only gun in the household? Yes. Are you asking about guns? Has anything happened that you're not telling me about? No, ma'am. I'm just routine checking. We'll have to take a look at that .45, if you don't mind. Maybe I should tell you we do have another gun in the house, but it's all wrapped up. George bought it for Stanley's Christmas present. What if we could see it, please? Yes, what? Will you have to unwrap it? Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid so. It's in the closet. They had to hide it. Let me see. Look, there's a paper that's wrapped here. Stanley wants to find me. It's gone. You see, here's the gift card and the box of gun came in. The rifle. I wonder if I could look at that box, ma'am. Thank you. How about it, John? Twenty-two caliber. Thursday, December 22nd, 5.15 p.m. It was getting dark. The search for the missing boy continued. We checked the list of Stanley Johnstone's friends. None of them or their parents had any idea of his whereabouts. We talked with Levinson again. He'd been in touch with the detail combing the neighborhood. They'd found nothing. We went down to Collis Avenue in 10th Street and the service station on the corner. One nickel, you know? Oh, I got one. Will you watch the pan? Yeah. 2667, please. 2667? Primelab Jones. Highly, Joe Friday. Yeah, Joe. Any sound of the Johnson kid? No, not yet. How are you coming? Finished the precipitant test. It's human blood. Yeah. Working on the blood group now. You know what type the Johnson boy had? Well, I didn't want to upset his mother. Thought I'd wait till the last thing. We're in the neighborhood. Check with the family physician. That's where you won't disturb it. Yeah, I figured on that. Just a minute, Lee. Yeah, man. Most is pulled out. Okay. Fat Brown's out here now. I'll check you later, Lee. All right, Joe. All right, bye. Oh, there's one here. Gentlemen, how's it going? We just checked with Lee Jones. Yeah, I know. It's human blood. What do you think? We talked with the boy's mother, Mrs. Johnstone, found a gun missing. Yeah. Calibre's the same as the empty casing Levinson found. It's 22. So the gun was missing? Yeah, the Johnstone's were going to give it to the boy as a Christmas present. They had it hidden, but it's gone. Any idea what took it? Well, they left the Christmas wrapping behind. I think it was the kid. 22 wrapping? Nine-year-old boy. One thing I'll learn. First, it's carbide cannons on the 4th of July. The city issued ordnance after ordnance. A few thousand kids around the country had to lose their eyes, fingers, hands, before the parents had given us a full cooperation outlaw. I know what you mean. Sure you do. You and every other cop in the country became the heaviest trying to clamp down on them. That was the same story. This time it's guns for Christmas. I know what you're thinking, but we're not sure yet. Listen, Friday, there's a city ordinance against giving a gun to a kid. Do you know that? Yeah, I know that. The missing boy and the missing gun. There's blood on the ground and an empty shell. That's enough for me. I'm only going to stay with it. Something's got to break. Yeah, and I hope it's not the heart of that kid's parents. Hi, Chief. We're looking for you, Friday. What do you got, Harry? Found the gun. New 22 rifle. That says we've fired recently. Where'd you find it, Levinson? Back up there in that scrubboat behind the Johnstone house. Mrs. Johnstone identified it. Buckety took it down to Cranland. Thanks, Harry. Mrs. Johnstone, OK? Pretty sick now. Dorothy came up with something else. What's that? There's another one missing. An eight-year-old boy. 6.30 p.m., we talked with Officer Dorothy about the other missing boy. He told us that his name was Stephen Moerheim, eight years old. His family had just moved into the neighborhood. It seemed that no one, besides the Moerheim family, knew that the boys played together. Mrs. Moerheim told us that Stephen told her that he was going out to play and that he'd be home by 6 o'clock for dinner. She told us that he was an unusually prompt boy and almost never overstayed his playtime. We got a description of the Moerheim boy and put out a missing broadcast. We called the Johnstone's family doctor. He told us that Stanley's blood was type O. At 7 p.m., we talked again with Mrs. John Moerheim. Are you sure Mrs. Johnstone doesn't know where the boys are? She has no idea, Mrs. Moerheim. Oh, this is terrible, just awful. I feel there's more to this thing, something you're not telling me. There's no reason to upset you until we know a few things for sure. Then you're holding back something. Oh no, please try not to worry, Ms. Moerheim. Certain things that we're going to have to ask you routine questions in any kind of investigation. Is there anything else you want to know? Yes, ma'am. What is your boy's blood type? It's a funny question. Do you think anything's happened to him? Have you found him and you're not telling me? No, ma'am, we haven't found him. And we don't think anything's happened to him. It's blood type. Yes, ma'am. I think I have it written down in Stevie's baby book. Yes, here it is. It's type O. Thank you. I wonder if I might use your phone? Yes, of course, it's in the hall. I'll be right back then. Okay. May I have 2667, please? 2667? This is Joe Friday. Is Lee there? Just a minute, Joe. Thank you, Lee. All right. Take him back, Lee. Did you get the blood types on the two missing boys? Yeah, both type O. So are the stains, Joe. Type O. Back to headquarters to direct the search from there. He dispatched another detail of 50 men to aid in the hunt for the missing youngsters. 8.30 p.m. was getting a little colder. The citrus growers were warned to expect a freeze. We went up the block to see Mrs. Johnstone. Her husband had quit work early and returned home. We talked with him for a while. He could tell us nothing more than we already knew. We still had not informed either of the families about the blood stains and the empty cartridge casing which had been discovered in the backyard of the Johnstone home. It was more than possible that they had a right to know about our findings, but Ben and I felt that there was no cause to add to the distress of the two families at this time. If the two missing boys were found alive and well, then the blood stains and the cartridge would be of no concern to the relieved parents. At 8.40 p.m. Ben and I left the Johnstone house and went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. John Moreheim. Mrs. Moreheim, you said your husband worked at a market. Yes, he telephoned about 15 minutes ago, said he's closing up right away. He'll be here any minute. There was Steve at Cole, come home. It's so cold out tonight. Oh, he had on a thin cotton jacket. We'll try not to worry. We're doing everything we can. He'll be all right. Steve's father is such a sensitive man. He and the boy are so close. I know he's terribly upset. Now, you're sure there's no place if you might have forgotten some place where the boy might be? No, no place. No. If anything happens to the boy, it'll just kill John. No, you sit still. I'll get it, Mrs. Moreheim. Joe, Larry, the Johnstone kid, he's been found. He's home, Sergeant. He's come home. Thank God he's all right. Where's he been? Did he tell you? No. No, he didn't. His clothes are already in the exacting strange. Never seen him like this. How do you mean, Ms. Johnson? Well, he just came to the front door and said, hello, Mom. He sat down at the chair and stared at the floor. We'll talk to his father and me. You mind if I talk to him? No, go ahead. I asked you about the little Moreheim boy, but he wouldn't tell me a thing. Where does he know? Right over there in the living room. Looks all right. Yes. Son, this is a police officer. He wants to talk to you. Don't be afraid, dear. He only wants to ask you some questions. Son, do you see Sergeant? Stanley, forgive me, son. That's better. He had your mother pretty worried, you know that. You want to tell us where you've been? We should try to get him to eat a little something. You hear that, son? Want something to eat? I think there's another little boy up the studio who hasn't come home. You know where he is? His father and mother are worried about him, too. It's like your folks were. We're going to ask you to help us find him. I killed him. I killed Steve with the 22. We were only playing, but I killed him. How do you know you killed him? Maybe he's only hurt now, isn't it? No, he's dead. I know he's dead. The gun went off. I forgot we put bullets in there. Where is he, Stanley? I hit him. I was scared. I didn't want anybody to find him. Where did you hide him, son? In a cave up on the hill. I didn't mean it. It was my pal. You want to show us where, Stanley? Yes. I'll show you. Please. Don't send me to jail. 9.15 p.m. Thursday, December 22nd. 9-year-old Stanley Johnstone led the way up the hill behind the backyard of his home. He showed us the wagon that he moved the body in. His father came along with us. About 50 feet from the crest of the hill, the boy pointed to a second of scrubbo. There we found a small cave holding the body of Stephen Morhine. There was a single bullet wound in his chest just below his heart. It was dead. We covered the body. Stanley, how did it happen? I knew my folks were going to give me the gun for Christmas. I knew where it was, and I got it. There was a box of bullets with it. Are you pointing the gun at Stephen, son? No, sir. No, sir, I wasn't. It was Dean's turn to play with it. I was chasing him. Kept over that stump there, and he fell. I'm hitting him in the stomach, and it went off. Well, why do you think you killed him if you're telling us the truth? I'm telling the truth? Oh, that's the truth. I believe you, son, but why do you think you killed him? It was my gun. Stephen would still be alive if I didn't go and get it. Should have waited till Christmas for all my fault. Where have you been all this time? In the cave of Steve. What were you doing in there, son? I was praying. I was praying for God to make him alive again. After a thorough investigation, Ben and I were convinced that the shooting of Stephen Morhine was accidental. Lieutenant Lee Jones' findings substantiated the John Stone Boy story even to the smallest detail. We put in a call to the coroner's office, and we acquainted him with the facts. He designated a local mortuary to handle the body, pending autopsy, and granted us permission to remove the body to the Morhine home. Mrs. Morhine collapsed. The family doctor was called. Ben and I sat in the living room to wait for John Morhine, the dead boy's father. Mr. Morhine? Yeah, you the police? Yes. Where's Edith? Where's my wife? Has my boy come home? Have you found him? Yes, sir. Well, where is he? Where's Steve? He's hurt, isn't he? Well, where is he? I want to see him. He's hurt bad, Mr. Morhine. Where is he? I want to see him. You go with me. Get any harder on yourself, Mr. Morhine. See my boy. Mr. Morhine, we got you a lot of nice things for Christmas. Anything you wanted. I went with a searchlight on it. It really works, huh? Got you that new switch you wanted. A lot more drink. Big layout. You know that new baseball that we saw? I got a free cowboy outfit you want. Feel that we should try to restrain him. Ben and I went along with him up the street to the Johnstone home. We brought the rifle. We were going to tell him not to use it unless his father was with him until he learned how to treat firearms. Where's your boy? Right here. Did you come in? Yes, sir. Yes, sir. December 24th, 1948, a coroner's inquest was held in the county morgue, city and county of Los Angeles, state of California. In a moment, the results of that inquest. Coroner's inquest, it was officially recorded that Stephen Morhine's death was the result of an accident. Stanley Johnstone was absolved of any legal responsibility for his friend's death.