 The story you're about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima Cigarettes. Best of all, long cigarettes brings you dragnet. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to homicide detail. A small boy is reported missing from his home. His age, nine years. Foul play is suspected. Your job, find him. You'll be amazed when you compare Fatima with other long cigarettes. You'll find they now cost the same. Difference is quality. You see, Fatima is the quality king-size cigarette. Because it contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos superbly blended. And Fatima is extra mild. With a much different, much better flavor and aroma than any other long cigarette. So try comparing Fatima yourself. Fatima's now cost the same as other long cigarettes. But your first puff will tell you... Ah, that's different. Yes, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Ask your dealer for Fatima. The quality king-size cigarette. Best of all, long cigarettes. Start enjoying Fatima tomorrow. 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 Thursday, December 22nd. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the night watch out of 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, Jill. Ben? Well, here's the file on the Webster case. And the follow-up's been made? Yeah, I get it. Homicide, Friday. This Levinson unit, 113J, got something for you. Yeah, Harry, what's doing? Dordy and I are out here on Commiss Avenue, 4656. Trying to track down a nine-year-old boy. Yeah, what's the story? The kid's missing, suspicion of foul play. How long's 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 looked new. Ben and I left a message for chief of detectives, Thad Brown. Then we went over to the crime lab and picked up Lieutenant Lee Jones and drove out the Arroyo Seco freeway to Collis Avenue. It was an average neighborhood. Number 4656 was a one-story green stucco residence situated on the corner of Collis Avenue in Harrison Drive. Beyond the backyard was attractive, undeveloped land covered with scrub oak. Harry Levinson from Highland Park Juvenile was waiting for us in front of the house. Let's back this way, fellas. Coming, Link. Hey, I got my bag. Who notified you that the boy was missing, Harry? The mother said she went out to do some Christmas shopping by 11 this morning, 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. Yeah, quite a few stains, huh? Yeah. Looks like it might have been blood. Try some benzidine on them. See what happens. Where's the kid's mother now, Harry? Yeah, in the house. Dirty's talking to her. Did you talk to any of the neighbors? People next door are the ones on this side. They couldn't tell us anything. There it is, fellas. Yeah, Lee. These spots I covered with benzidine, they're turning blue. Blood stain's all right. You can't say definitely whether it's human or animal blood. Do you have to go back to the lab to run it through? Yeah, a biological precipitant test. Hand me one of those glass files for my bag, will you? Yeah, sure. Okay, here you go. Hey. Scrape some flakes off for a test. Yeah, Lee, huh? How soon can you tap the blood for us, Lee? Precipitant tests 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? 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, would you? Mm-hmm. There you go. There you go. Did you get on a missing broadcast on the boy here? Not already. It did about a half an hour ago. Here's a description here. Thank you. Does my mother know about the blood stain? No, we didn't tell her. She's worried enough already. And 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 and her trace so far. Not much to go on. Blood stains, 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 9-year-old Stanley Johnstone continued. Lee Jones went back to the crime lab to start the precipitant test in 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. Johnstone? You don't have any children, do you, Sergeant Friday? 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 8 to 10. I think I know what you mean. I have a boy. Well, then you know how it is. My husband and I schooled as Stanley one afternoon after school, and he was quite put out about it. I saw George and I were unfair. Packed a few of his things and 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. Said every boy had to go through that stage. Well, then you think that he's run 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? Well, that's just it. We haven't. I don't mind telling you that now that we're talking about it, but I am getting worried. Well, is there any 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 been seen all day. I've called all his friends, and they have no idea where 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 give them to you. Where do you suppose he is? Where's your husband now, Miss Johnson? At work. George works with the city. He's a fireman. What house is he staying at? Engine Company 12. He's working the A-platoon. He'll be home tomorrow morning. I haven't told him. Stanley's gone. Was there any chance that 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? May I please speak with George Johnson? This is Mrs. Johnston. Thank you. I hate to call George at his work. Yes, ma'am. Does your husband own a gun? Yes, he does. What caliber do you know? What's a .45 automatic? He got a knife. George? This is Ruth. George, is Stanley down there 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. A .45. Is that the only gun in the household? Yes. Why are you asking about guns? Has anything happened that you're not telling me about? No, ma'am. 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. We could see it, please. Yes, well, will you have to unwrap it? Yes, ma'am, I think so. It's in the closet. Thank you. We had to hide it. Well, here's the paper it was wrapped in. Stanley must have found it. It's gone. You see, here's the gift card and the box the gun came in. The rifle. I wonder if I could look at that box, ma'am. Thank you. How about a .22 caliber? Thursday, December 22, 5.15 p.m. 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, service station on the corner. One nickel, you know? Oh, I got one. Would you watch for a fan? Yeah. Okay. 2667, please. 2667? Crime Lab, Jones. Highly, Joe Friday. Yeah, Joe. Any sign of the Johnson kid? No, not yet. How are you coming? Finish the precipitant test. It's human blood. Yeah. Working on the blood group now. Do you know what type the Johnson boy has? Well, I didn't want to upset his mother. Thought I'd waited until the last thing. We're in the neighborhood. Check with the family physician. That way you won't disturb it. Yeah, I figured on that. Just a minute, Lee. Yeah. Yeah, man. Most is pulled up. Okay. Thad Brown's out here now. Check you later, Lee, huh? Yeah. Right, bye. All right. Oh, there's one, Joe. 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. You said the gun was missing? Yeah, the Johnstones were going to give it to the boys at Christmas present. They had it hidden, but it's gone. Any idea who took it? Well, they left the Christmas wrapping behind. I think it was the kid. 22 rifle, huh? Nine-year-old boy. What are we going to learn? First, it's carbide cannons on the 4th of July. The city issued ordinance after ordinance. A few thousand kids around the country had to lose their eyes, fingers, hands before the parents had given us their full cooperation to outlaw them. I know what you mean. I'm sure you do. You and every other cop in the country became the heavies trying to clamp down on them. That was the same story. This time it's guns for Christmas. Well, 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. You know that. Yeah, I know that. There's a missing boy and a 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. I hope it's not the hearts of that kid's parents. Hi, Chief. Been looking for you Friday. What do you got, Harry? Found the gun. New 22 rifle. I'd say it's been fired recently. Where'd you find it, Levinson? Back up there in that scrub oak behind the Johnstone house. Mrs. Johnstone identified it. Buckley took it down the crime lab. Thanks, Harry. Mrs. Johnstone, okay? Pretty sick now. Doherty 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 Doherty 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 he'd be home by six 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 typo. 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. Well, no, please try not to worry, Mrs. Moerheim. There are certain things that we're going to have to ask you, routine questions and 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. His blood type? Yes, ma'am. Well, I think I have it written down in Stevie's baby book. Yes, here it is. It's typo. Thank you. I wonder if I might use your phone? Yes, of course. It's in the hall. I'll be right back, ma'am. City Hall? 2667, please. 2667? Grandland, thank you. All right. This is Joe Friday. Is Lee there? Just a minute, Joe. Take two, Lee. All right. John speaking. Checking back, Lee. Did you get the blood types on the two missing boys? Yeah, both typo. So are the stains, Joe. Type O. You are listening to Dragnet for the solution to an actual case from official police files. Now, here's a real solution to many of your Christmas shopping problems. If your friends smoke long cigarettes, give the best of long cigarettes. Give King-size Fatima. You see, Fatima's now cost the same as other long cigarettes, but in Fatima, the difference is quality, quality of tobaccos, the finest Turkish and domestic varieties, extra mild and superbly blended to give smokers a much different, much better flavor and aroma than any other long cigarette. Quality of manufacturing. Smooth, plump cigarettes rolled in the finest paper money can buy. Quality. Even to the appearance of the distinctive Royal Blue Fatima gift carton, Christmas wrapped and carefully sealed to ensure Fatima's rich, fresh, extra mild flavor. Remember, Fatima's now cost the same as other long cigarettes, but in Fatima, the difference is quality. So this Christmas, give your friends the best. Give Fatima the quality King-size cigarette. Best of all, long cigarettes. 8 p.m. Thursday, December 22nd. Still no sign of either of the missing boys. Chief Detective Stad Brown went 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 colder. The citrus growers were warned to expect a freeze. We went up the block to see Mrs. Johnstone. Her husband quit work early and returned home. We talked with him. 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 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 Moorheim. Ms. Moorheim, you said your husband worked at a marquee. Yes, he telephoned about 15 minutes ago and said he was closing up right away. He'll be here any minute. Do wish Stevie would call, come home. It's so cold out tonight. All he had on was a thin cotton jacket. We'll try not to worry. We're doing everything we can. Stevie's father is such a sensitive man. He and the boy are so close. I know he's terribly upset. You're sure there's no place that you might have forgotten some place where the boy might be? No, no place. No. If anything's happened to the boy, it'll just kill John. No. You sit still. I'll get it, Ms. Moorheim. Joe? Yeah, Harry? 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 all dirty and he's acting strange. I've never seen him like this. How do you mean, Ms. Johnstone? He just came to the front door and said, Hello, Mom. He sat down at the chair and stared at the floor. Won't talk to his father or me. Do you mind if I talk to him? No, go ahead. I asked him about the little Moorheim boy, but he wouldn't tell me a thing. Where is he now? Right over there in the living room. 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, Missy, Sergeant? Stanley, look at me, son. Come on, youngster. Get your head up there. That's better. He has 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? Stanley, 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 that 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. He was my pal. Do 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 John Stone led the way up the hill behind the backyard of his home. He showed us the wagon 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 thicket of scrub oak. There, we found a small cave holding the body of Stephen Morheim. There was a single bullet wound in his chest just below his heart. It was dead. He covered the body. Stanley, how did it happen? I knew where 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. Were you pointing the gun at Stephen, son? No, sir. No, sir, I wasn't. It was Steve's turn to play with it. I was chasing him. Chipped over that stump there, and he fell. Gun hit 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. Honest, that's the truth. Well, I believe you, son, but why do you think you killed him? It was my gun. Steve would still be alive if I didn't go and get it. We should have waited till Christmas. It's all my fault. Well, where have you been all this time? In the cave with 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 Moerheim 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 equated 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 Moerheim home. Mrs. Moerheim collapsed. The family doctor was called. Ben and I sat in the living room to wait for John Moerheim, the dead boy's father. Edith? Edith? Mr. Moerheim? Yeah, Hugh the police? Yes. Where's Edith? Where's my wife? Has my boy come home? Have you found him? Yes, sir. Where is he? Steve? Steve, hey! Where's Steve? He's hurt, isn't he? Yes, sir, he is. Where is he? I want to see him. He's hurt bad, Mr. Moerheim. Where is he? I want to see him. How bad? Pretty bad. He's dead. All right, if I go in. Yes, sir, if you want. Will you go with me? Sure. Don't make it any harder on yourself, Mr. Moerheim. I want to see my boy. Mr. Moerheim. Listen to me, son. We got you a lot of nice things for Christmas. Everything you wanted. I got you the three new cars for the train. That one with a searchlight on it really works, son. Got you that new switch you wanted. A lot more track. Oh, now you can have a big layout. You know that new baseball that we saw? I got it for you. The cowboy outfit you want. Mr. Moerheim. What happened? It was an accident. He was playing with a Johnstone boy up the street. Playing with a gun. It went off. What was the other boy's name? Stanley Johnstone. It was an accident. Mr. Moerheim, where are you going? I want to see that boy. We had no idea what the dead boy's father had in mind. We didn't feel that we should try to restrain him. We went along with him up the street to the Johnstone home. Steve's father. Where's your boy? I'm sorry. We bought 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. Would you come in? It's all right, Mr. Johnstone. The boy that was with Steve? Yes, sir. What's your name? Stanley. No, it wasn't your fault, Stanley. I wonder if you'd do something for me? Yes, sir. I've got a lot of nice presents for Steve. We'd want you to have them. Christmas Eve. Come on, man. What's it all prove, Joe? You don't give a kid a gun for Christmas. The story you've just heard was true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. On 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. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you. To get year-round thanks for the gift you give this Christmas, give cartons of Fatimas to every long cigarette smoker on your list. Christmas Fatimas in a special royal blue slip-over jacket make a perfect gift just as is. And to my friends who sell Fatimas, the retail dealers, and the wholesale distributors all over America, to each one of you a special season's greeting. And to everyone, a merry Christmas. At the coroner's inquest, it was officially recorded that Stephen Morheim's death was the result of an accident. Stanley Johnstone was absolved of any legal responsibility for his friend's death. You have just heard Dragnet, the series of authentic cases from official files. Technical advice for Dragnet comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department. This is Bob Hope. Can we steal a second? Chesterfield, Chesterfield, always win first place. That milder mild tobacco never leaves an aftertaste. So open a pack, give them a smell. Then you'll smoke them. Don't forget to give Crosby for Christmas. I mean the Chesterfield Christmas carton with Bing as Papa Santa Claus. See you Tuesday. We The People is next with more Good Times on NBC.