 Ladies and gentlemen, due to technical difficulties beyond our control at the moment, the drag net program originally scheduled at this period has been postponed temporarily. It will be heard in just a few moments. I'm Martin Z. J. Bosses, Captain Steve, my name is Martin. We're on the way out on the office at 10.38 a.m. when we got to Paris Avenue. Number 213. Yes? How do you do, Miss Wagner? Police officers? I'm Sergeant Jacobs. This is my partner Sergeant Fryden. Oh, yes, Sergeant. I've been expecting you. Would you come in, please? Thank you, ma'am. Thank you. I hope you'll excuse the way the house looks, officers, right in the middle of packing, getting ready to move. I understand. Try not to keep you, Miss Wagner. So much to do, making arrangements for Dorothy's funeral, the undertaker, and all this moving business on top of it. I couldn't bear to stay here any longer, though. Yes, ma'am. We understand. We'll make it as brief as we can. I'd like to have you tell us about this trouble that your sister had as much as you know about it, I mean. Playing out and out murder, in my opinion, might just as well have taken a gun and killed her, no difference. You knew all about the relationship between your sister Dorothy and this man Reynolds, is that correct? Yes, right from the beginning. I was there when they met. But do you mind if I went ahead packing these few things here? My sister's things. I'd like to finish up before I leave. Have an appointment at noon, the mortuary. Surely go right ahead. A few books, nicknacks, personal things to Dorothy. Foolish woman. I gave her credit for more cents. And about this man Reynolds, Miss Wagner. I saw through him right from the start. I tried to tell Dorothy. He was a fortune hunter. Money hungry. Of course, she wouldn't listen. She always knew better. Charles R Reynolds. Is that the name you knew him by, ma'am? Yes, that's right. Dorothy and I met him one Sunday night in a hotel dining room. Two of us always had dinner at the hotel Sunday nights every Sunday. That's the hotel Alan Wilcher you told us about? That's correct. The exact same month this coming Sunday. Came up to our table and introduced himself. Claimed he knew my father when he was alive. Dad owned some big packing plants in the east. Died nine years ago, left the estate to Dorothy and me. I see. Would you have anything to add to the description that you gave us on Reynolds, Miss Wagner? I mean, can you think of anything unusual about him at all? Scars, peculiar mannerisms, anything like that? No, nothing special. Dressed well, as I say. Apparently cultured, well-traveled. He was handsome enough. Attractive. I knew it was only after our money, though, playing up to Dorothy that way, kissing her hand, taking her out all the time. Probably would have tried the same thing with me. It's lucky I knew better. How did you after the first meeting with Miss Wagner? Did you start dating your sister Dorothy right away? Yes, the next night. Called here at our home and asked Dorothy to the theater. I think he was going to ask me, but he was too smart for that. I knew it for what he was. Imagine that. Poor Miss Dorothy wrote in high school. Love poems. Silly. She never did get it out of her head. You and your sister lived alone here in the house, did you, ma'am? Yes, Dorothy and I in the maid. I don't want to stay here after what's happened, though. I'm going to my cousins in Vermont. I don't want to see this place again. Yes, ma'am. I understand. How soon after you met Reynolds did he marry your sister? A little over two weeks. He'd been seeing her almost every night, taking her out dancing to the theaters, big dinners, bringing her home late, and sit here in the living room. I could hear them from my bedroom upstairs laughing, him telling her how beautiful she was. Forty-two-year-old woman, imagine that. About the same age your sister was? Just about. A little older. People always took us for twins, though. Here's a snapshot of me taking in my twenties. The boy was me there. He wanted to marry me. My money, of course, that's all he wanted. Too bad. Dorothy never seemed to realize that about men. Girls from wealthy families have to be careful. We understand Reynolds took your sister out of town to be married, didn't we? Yes. Las Vegas. Reynolds had told her his bank funds were tied up temporarily in a Canadian bank. He wrote Dorothy a check for $10,000, and she gave him her check for the same amount. He said he wanted to book reservations for a round-the-world trip for both of them. I see. The same day Dorothy gave him the check, he cashed it. The bank called her about it, and she said it was perfectly all right. Now, after he cashed it, Reynolds disappeared. No trace of him. Of course, his check's worthless. We found that out. You figured that's the only reason your sister took her own life? There's no other reason. It wasn't the money so much. Dorothy has her share of the estate. It's a shame, I suppose. Awful shame, disappointment. She should have known better a woman her age. Had your sister ever been married before, Ms. Wagner? Yes. When she was 18, ran off to Chicago and married a young fellow. She claimed she loved him, too. Naturally, he was after our money. My father and I went and brought her home. We had the marriage annulled. It was that way all her life, half a dozen men. They brought Dorothy nothing but misery. And this was the last, this Charles Reynolds. How about his background, ma'am, his business connections? He ever mentioned any of that to you or your sister? Claimed he had interests all over South America, Australia. Seemed to have plenty of money. Guess his kind always has. Do you think you'll find it? We're going to try, Ms. Wagner. Dorothy went upstairs to her bedroom and stayed there. She looks a strange. She took out some pressed flowers from a book. Some boy had given them to her once years ago. Don't know who. She just sat on the edge of her bed and stared at them old pressed flowers. Next morning the maid came upstairs and Dorothy was lying on the floor. Empty bottle of pills next to her. Awful disgrace. Never happened before in our family. If you don't mind, Ms. Wagner, we'd like to get as many particulars about this man Reynolds as you can remember. There. That's the last. I don't know what else to tell you, officer. All I know is I was young when Dorothy was young. I could have had a man if I wanted. But I didn't run off when I was 18 to marry a boy. I knew my duty. It wasn't proper. It wasn't a love. I didn't run off as a middle-aged woman to marry a fortune hunter either. What made her do it? I wouldn't know, ma'am. She was your sister. What kind of a man was he? What kind of a mind? Making love, kissing her, just to take her money. Imagine selling somebody with a kiss. Well, it's not the first time, ma'am. Is that so? Look it up. You'll find it in the Bible. At 11.18 a.m., we continued to interview the victim's sister for another 40 minutes, and then we left the Wagner home, drove back to the office, and continued our investigation of the suspect, Charles R. Reynolds. As far as we were concerned, the criminal was new to us, but the crime wasn't. The marriage rackets as old as any con game on earth, and as con games go, it's one of the lowest. It trades on one of the most natural and normal instincts a man or a woman has, a desire for companionship, a home and a family. And for the sake of an easy dollar, it betrays the victim and the instinct ruthlessly, regardless of the consequences. In the case of 42-year-old heiress Dorothy Wagner, the disappointment was too much to cope with. For her, the marriage game ended in the front parlor of a mortuary on South Hoover Street. For the suspect, Charles Reynolds, it had continued to be a paying business until he was stopped. After homicide detail completed their investigation of the case, and it was definitely determined that Dorothy Wagner took her own life, the matter was turned over to us. 11.50 a.m., we got off a request to Las Vegas, asking them for all the information on the marriage, and then I contacted the staff's office and asked them to make a run on the suspect for us based on his detailed description and also on his method of operation. I went back down the hall and met Ed Jacobs at the R&I counter. How you doing? Not too much luck, Joe. Forger didn't come up with anything either, nothing on them and their files. Apparently, this is the first time he's worked at town. Orange, we couldn't find anything on the name, not the main file anyway. What do you got there? I asked John to check the correspondence file that came up with this. How does she call it? It came in over three months ago, inquiry from their bunco detail. Suspect name right here, Frank L. Richland. Same angle. Marry, drag it. The M.O. is pretty close. Any description? Oh, here. What do you think? 170 pounds gray wavy hair, blue eyes, fair complexion. That's fairly close, could be. There's the alias, this Richland uses. Longer arm. Here's one cut R.I. Reynolds. Alias, George A. Reynolds. Thomas R. Reynolds. Alias, C.H. Reynolds. Alias, Charles R. Reynolds. Wants on him for forgery, bunco, grand theft, a lot of experience. How about a mud shot on this one? None attached. No L.A. contacts either. We better get off a wire to Chicago PD, send us what they can on him. I want to prove it one way or the other by the end of the week maybe. Copy his name down here. Frank L. Richland. Correspondence number C143732. Chicago case number D-612-32. Attention for tenants, Michaels. What are you just thinking of? The last time anyone saw Reynolds, when was it, 10, 12 days ago? 10 days ago, yeah. September 23rd, same day cashed the check and took the run out. Well, if he's working the city for the first time, he must figure he's had some fair luck. 10,000 on the first try is pretty encouraging. Yeah. If he gets the idea that town's a gold mine, he's not going to pull out stakes here. Figures. Probably trying to reach a couple other women with the same angle. Could be he's working on it now. Well, that's the problem. What do you mean? A woman. Say he's been romancing three or four of them around town. He's got them all primed. How you going to warn a woman about a thief before a purse is gone? After getting off a wire to Chicago regarding the suspect, which was in addition to the broadcast and the APB we've gotten out on him, Ed Jacobs and I continued checking out the various contacts that he'd made in the city. We checked stores where he shopped, banks where he allegedly did business, restaurants and hotels which he reportedly patronized. It took three days of dull, steady legwork. You can say it much faster than you can do it. All of the bank references without exception were falsified, where he made purchases that were strictly cash dealing. The same for the restaurants he'd frequented. Besides meager descriptions of the man, the restaurant employees weren't able to help us much. At one of the two hotels where we learned he was a guest for a full month, we finally met at half a lead. One of the bell boys told us that the man known as Charles Reynolds seemed to be pretty friendly with the head waiter in the hotel dining room at Henry Kingsbury. We located Kingsbury in the dining room in mid-afternoon directing arrangements for a large private party to be held at night. Across the dance floor, the orchestra was on the bandstand rehearsing. The musicians in their shirt sleeves. Kingsbury was reserved and not too cooperative. Yes, I was acquainted with Mr. Reynolds, no more than the other guests, though. That's not the way we get it, Mr. Kingsbury. We hear you were pretty friendly with him. Only as far as my job goes, that's my business making people feel at home, making them comfortable. Well, I understand Reynolds was a pretty heavy tipper. Is that right? You always took good care of me and the boys. The waiter's very generous. Did he expect anything special in return for the tips that he gave you? I don't think I understand. Oh, I think you do. How about it? Well, he was always very good to us, all of us. I could hardly refuse. Refuse what? When he first moved into the hotel, he became friendly with me, introduced himself, gave me good tips in advance to take care of him. First few nights here, he spent at the cocktail bar, you know, meeting people, buying a few drinks, getting acquainted. Third or fourth night, that's when he asked me. Yeah. He said once some prominent women came into the dining room, wealthy women, would I point them out to him? Single women, of course. I couldn't see any harm in it. He put a $20 bill in my hand. I said, yes, I would. After all, we have to look out for ourselves. Did he expect anything else for those tips? I don't know. I don't think he'd be right if I told you. You know why we're here, Mr. Kingsbury? We leveled with him. We expect you to do the same with us. Well, there was a two-wagoner, sisters. They came here every Sunday night for dinner regular routine for them. Yeah. Mr. Reynolds is at the bar. He asked who they were, and I told him he seemed impressed. He asked me to help with an introduction to them, and I did. Next afternoon, he came to me again. He said he was taking one of the wagons, sisters, to dinner that night. It was important to him. He gave me another big tip. Said he wanted us to roll out the red carpet for him that night. Mm-hmm. What that consists of. More special consideration, the best treatment in the house, you know. I was to act as if I'd known him for years. Well, it was a good tip. I did what he asked. As I say, we have to look out for ourselves. Has happened more than once today? Two or three times. Yeah. Miss Wagner, Dorothy Wagner, she seemed impressed. At the time, I didn't think anything was wrong with it. You actually didn't know Reynolds, was that right? You'd never seen him before. Well, I suppose, yes. I only found out later, though, reading the papers. I mean, what really happened. I didn't know what he was at the time. You couldn't see what Reynolds was up to? You didn't know what he was doing? No, naturally not. He was a good tipper. That's all I know. It was the money. We have to look out for ourselves. Yeah. I felt sorry about Miss Wagner. I went to the funeral. They couldn't say I'm to blame, could they? What happened, I mean? It's not on my conscience. You wouldn't say so, would you? She's dead, mister. You figure it. Thursday, October 13, the investigation continued. Still no sign of the suspect. We got an answer from Las Vegas and also from the Chicago PD's Bunko Detail on our inquiries. They enclosed mugshots and fingerprint classification of the suspect, Frank Richland, alias Charles R. Reynolds. The pictures were shown to witnesses and acquaintances who'd known the suspect and they definitely established Frank Richland and Charles Reynolds as one and the same person. We got out a supplementary APB containing the latest information on the suspect. Saturday, October 15, we got our second complaint on the Mary's Bunko Artists, this time from the practice of a small chain of lunch counters in the San Pedro area on Miss Hoggar Lindstrom. Ed and I drove down to the harbor area where we interviewed her at one of her lunch counters. She identified Richland's mugshot. Her story of the Mary's swindlemax closely with that of the previous victim, Dorothy Wagner. Yeah, he was a fine gentleman, Mr. Jan Richland. I don't know what happened, I don't know what to say. You told you it was from England, Miss Lindstrom, is that right? Yeah, he talked like English, but he could speak good English, like from London or someplace. So she built boats, big ones. How about your pipe, ma'am? Big boats. Oh, yes. He told me that's his business. He said he had lots of money. We would sail around the world on a honeymoon. Maybe he wants to come back still. I hope so. I wouldn't call on that, Miss Lindstrom. Would you tell us this, please? How'd you happen to meet this man, Richland? At the hotel, up the street. The big hotel. They can show it to you. The one on Jackson Street. Yes, ma'am. They seem to know he was a rich man. Nice, glossy horse. He spent money a lot. When we got married, they spent lots of money. Where were you married, ma'am? We went down to Mexico. One weekend, we went down there and we got married. It was romantic. Very nice. If I'm Lars, like that. Who's that, ma'am? Lars. That's him down the counter there. Lars, my brother. Oh, your brother went along with you when you got married. Is that right? Lars and I go every place together. I don't do anything without Lars. Mr. Richland was nice about it. He did seem to mind Lars. Just a minute, they called him. Lars? Huh? Lars? Lars and I run the business together. I do so. I found something here. It's a long time. They have worked at it. Hard work. I guess so. We make good living. What is it all? That's why it was so bad. Mr. Richland, three thousand dollars he took. Yeah, I got. These are the police, Lars. They want to know about Mr. Richland. How are you, sir? Yeah, he was no good. When they find him, they hit him. Now, the three thousand dollars he got from you, ma'am, how did that work? I mean, did you give him the money? Lend it to him? Just what was it? When we came back from Mexico from being married, Mr. Richland and me and Lars, he said if I'm sitting for money from his bank in New York, Mr. Richland said that he wrote me a cheque for three thousand dollars. I gave him our cheque for three thousand. Even Lars thought it was all right. Didn't you, Lars? Yeah, he was crazy. His cheque was no good. He beat him up. He punched him good. That's quite a bit of money, Mr. Lindstrom. What kind of a story did he give you? He would buy the tickets for a honeymoon trip. That's what he said. A long trip together. Romantic. Mr. Richland and me and Lars, he didn't mind Lars coming along either. Did he, Lars? No, he didn't mind. Now this Richland disappeared right after he cast your cheque. Yes, sir. I got the money and it was gone. Six days ago, we never heard him. I don't know why he did this to us. I thought he loved me. I thought he was my husband. We haven't seen or heard anything of him since he disappeared? Not many, Lars. But maybe we know that's why they call you officers. Yes, ma'am. We have this friend downtown, James Swenson. He met Mr. Richland once when he was here. Swenson called Lars on the telephone. He said he saw Mr. Richland downtown, going into the hotel. Are you sure it was Richland? Yes, he said he thought so. How long ago did he see him? Last night. We got on the phone right away and talked to the friend of the Lindstroms, James Swenson. He gave us the name and location of the downtown hotel where he thought he'd seen the suspect, Richland, the night before. Ed called the hotel and checked with the desk clerk. Yeah, that's right. Fairly tall, wavy gray hair, fair complexion. Might be registered as John Richland. That's right. Okay, we'll check with you later. Bye. See you later. The guy registered is Harold Richland. Descriptions match. He's still there. Checked out this morning. You are listening to Dragmit. Authentic stories of your police force in action. 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Saturday, October 15th, 230 p.m. Ed Jacobs and I drove back downtown to the hotel where the Bunko Suspect Richland supposedly had been staying. The desk clerk definitely identified his mugshot and told us that the man registered as Harold Richland had checked out a few minutes before 9 a.m. that morning. No forwarding address. We examined the room he'd been staying in, talked to the residents and the employees in the hotel, but we failed to come up with a single lead as to the suspect's whereabouts. During the week that followed, we received three different kickbacks on the all points we'd gotten out on Richland. We checked each one of them out, but they failed to materialize into anything. We stayed on it. October 19th, Wednesday, 7.58 a.m. Morning. Hi. Let's do it. Charlie Frost called from Forgery and went over to talk to him and came up with something on the Richland thing. Yeah, what's that? Picked up a woman last night named Helen Stokes. She's got a good-sized record. Checks, Bunko Records. Yeah. Got her this time on a cheque beef. She wrote one for $3,500. Yeah, well, how's the time with us? Cheque was made out to Harold Richland. 8.15 a.m. We signed out, drove over to the main jail and had the Forgery suspect Helen Stokes brought to one of the interrogation rooms. She was a dark-haired, fairly attractive woman. In the early 30s, as a Bunko artist, she apparently knew her trade pretty well. She was relaxed and talkative. She told us Richland had introduced himself to her at a Palm Springs Resort the week before. When did the business of the cheque come up? As soon as we got back in town, he gave me the story. His money was in a New York bank. I played along with a gag. He wrote me a piece of wallpaper for $3,500. I did the same for him. It's a difference. Nobody hurt. Both cheque, solid rubber. Maybe you forget, ma'am, as a lawgaster. So, me and gag, I told you that. You would have loved to have seen his face when he found that the cheque was a phony. You don't think they're going to push the charge against me, do you? No, we've already told you, ma'am. She wrote a bad one. There's a law against it. That was only stringing him along. I knew his cheque was a phony, too. I didn't have anything to gain. Look, suppose I help you find me. Would you give me a hand on this? See, I got a break. We can't make any promises. You cooperate, helps kind Richland. We'll be taken into consideration. All right, you're on. You can tell if a boy had tipped you. You know where Richland is now? I can come close to her. How do you mean? I know where he'll be next week. On further questioning, she told us that she read a letter from a friend of Richland's inviting him for a visit the week of October 31st. She also noted Richland's answer accepting the invitation. She said the friend's name was Maurice Archer and that the letter came from an ocean boulevard address in the beach town of Venice. We went back to the office, ran Archer's name through R&I, and found out that he had a previous criminal record of petty theft and grand theft. We went back to the office, ran Archer's name through R&I, and found out that he had a previous criminal record of petty theft and grand theft. We located him at an ocean boulevard address and brought him in for interrogation. If there was any trouble, he wanted no part of it. After talking to him only a few minutes, he broke down and told us where we could find Richland, an address out near the end of Melrose Avenue. It was an apartment court. The suspect was registered in one of the rear cottages under the name of Reynolds. It wasn't at home. Ed and I went on stake out inside the cottage. We waited. 6.30 p.m. Somebody coming in? Yeah. Hold it right there, Mr. Police Officers. What's this? Hands out in the open. Come on up. I don't understand this. Want to shake them down? Yeah. Oh, it's clean. Look, I don't know what you want, officers, but this is a mistake. Your name, Charles Reynolds? Reynolds? No. My name's Richland. I don't do it. Let's go. No, just a minute, please. What am I accused of? Who's accusing you? The last pigeon you had lined up. She wanted us to turn you. Helen Stokes. Stokes? Oh, no, you can't believe her. She's following me. She's nothing but a con artist. It's a good reason to believe her. Why? Takes one to no one. 7.05 p.m. After checking through the cottage, Ed and I drove Richland downtown and took him to the interrogation room. He'd admit nothing. We called Miss Wagner, the sister of his first victim, and she was still in town. She agreed to come down to the office to confront the suspect. So did the second victim, Haggar Lindstrom, and her brother, Lars. Cars were set out to pick them up. At a special show-up, Richland was picked out as the guilty man. We took him back to the interrogation room. Miss Wagner was the first one called in. She again identified Richland, alias Reynolds, as the man who had married and swindled her sister, Dorothy. All right, Miss Wagner, that'll be all. Thanks very much for coming in. Yes, all right. Thank you. Look, I don't know that woman. I'm not trying to be stubborn, but I'm afraid you're wrong. I'm not the man you want. Lindstrom's are outside. They're waiting. All right, for you, Miss. Miss Lindstrom? Mr. Lindstrom? Men, please. Miss Lindstrom? Mr. Lindstrom? Yeah, that's him. Yeah. I don't know, you. I've never seen you before. You married me, John. You wanted to be my husband. You said that. Why did you want to hurt me? Sorry, I don't know what. You said for you and me and Lars to go on the boat, on the moon, around the verve. You and me and Lars, you set out those things. Why did you want to hurt us? Oh, why? Is that enough for you? I don't know what they're talking about. Hey, babe, do you want to take it easy, Mr. Lars. Why? He said we all go around the world on the moon. All right. All right. Get him out of here. Okay, Mr. Lindstrom. Thanks. It's no good, Lars. Come. Yeah, please. Out this way, please. Yeah, fine. He hates you. Thank you very much. Oh, yeah. All right. All right, Wetzel. Are you ready to give us a statement? All right, I'll tell you. You can't blame me for that one. You wouldn't have gone through with that deal yourself. Nobody would. What's wrong? Am I a stupid girl? What do you mean? A big clown, or Brother Lars? Yeah. How'd you like to take that along on a honeymoon? The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On January 14th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 88, 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, gentlemen. 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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. Heard tonight were Barney Phillips and Virginia Gregg, by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schumann. Now give me speaking. Fatima cigarettes, best of all, king-sized cigarettes, has brought to you Dragnet transcribed from Los Angeles. February 18th, here at the Gala City Service Silver Radio Jubilee on NBC.