 The Equitable Society presents, this is your FBI. This is your FBI, an official broadcast from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, presented as a public service by the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States. To your FBI, you look for national security, and to the Equitable Society for Financial Security. These two great institutions are dedicated to the protection of you, your home, and your country. Tonight's file, murder. In the crime of murder, final conviction of the killer often depends on evidence which can be revealed only by the microscopes, the test tubes, and other instruments of modern science with which the FBI's vast laboratory is equipped. Whereas the steps leading to the killer's arrest may depend all together on the intelligence and swift action of the special agent on the case. Tonight's case from the files of your FBI is a dramatic example of how investigative ability brought about the arrest of a brutal killer, after which science convicted him. About two miles out from the village of Belford, Massachusetts, sitting well back from the road is the weather beaten house occupied by the Kratons. Although a sign on the roadside mailbox reads, tourists accommodated, Effie Creighton, a kindly little gray-haired woman nearing 70, and her granddaughter Lynn are alone most of the time. As they wear one rainy Saturday night in the early fall. In the living room, Effie sits in her rocker before the fire knitting. Lynn is at the piano while Blackie of Scotty stretches indifferently before the fireplace. Lynn, my dear, couldn't you play something just a little more cheerful? It's not a very cheerful night, nanny. It feels cold and clammy, like the touch of death. Oh, gracious! What kind of talk is that? Sometimes rain is warm and friendly, but tonight it's stealthy, like death. Oh, Blackie! Blackie must you be that way, too. Blackie also feels the night. It's that ghostly music affecting him. Now be quiet, Blackie. Lynn! At the window! Wow! A man's face! I saw it! It's gone now. Lynn, you've just worked yourself into a state with that graveyard music. No, nanny, I swear it. I saw a man's face at the window, and Blackie saw it, too. Blackie! Blackie, hush! I say, oh, Lynn, you've got him all worked up, too. But I tell you, I did see a man's face. Nonsense. Landfake. The both of you are enough. Nanny, I told you, it's just somebody at the door. It's whoever was looking in the window. Go see who it is. No. Well, well, then I'll go myself. It's probably a favor, just wanted to spend the night. Please, nanny, don't let him in. Nanny! Blackie, hush that up. I don't see anyone here. I'm sorry if I frightened you. It's my old eyes, young man. He just didn't see you right away, standing there in the dark. What do you want? Well, I saw your tourist sign. I've come to try to engage a room. Oh, then come in. Come in. Thanks. Blackie, you mustn't mind him, young man. Oh, that's all right. You know, I feel that way about strangers sometimes myself. Oh. Hello. What, uh... What's the matter? Why are you looking at me that way? You were looking in the window a while ago, weren't you? Yes. Why did you do that? Oh, well, please forgive me. You know, I guess that I've seen too many of these horror movies. Now, this house kind of made me think of one of those mystery houses where the mad doctor, he carves up his guests. Oh, good gracious. Yes, that's why I looked in the window, really. Yes, but when I saw a sweet little old lady and a charming young girl... We might be just a blind for that mad doctor, you know. I'll take the risk. Well, I've already put my car in your garage, but I'll have to go out and get my bag. Oh, surely, go ahead. It doesn't matter with you, Blackie. Maybe Blackie senses something we don't. Nonsense. Why, he's a very nice young man. I disagree with you, Granny. Here he comes. Hey, that rain seems to be a bit wet. You get right out of those wet clothes, young man, and I'll scare you up a bite of supple and some hot coffee. Thanks, thanks. That'll be awfully nice of you. Get away from my suitcase. I'm sorry. Blackie, now you go on into the living room. What's your name? Oh, I'm sorry. It's Smith, Harold Smith. Well, I'm Effie Creighton. And this is my granddaughter, Lynn. Oh, hello. How do you do? Will you just be here for the night? No, well, I might be here longer. That is, if I may. Oh, you can stay just as long as you like. Good. I'd like to make a request. Oh, is that? You see, I didn't tell anyone where I was going, and I... Well, I just wanted to be alone for a few days. Well, he just has to do that now and again, I guess. But suppose somebody should happen to inquire of us about you. What shall we tell him? I said, nobody knows I'm here. Well, even if they do ask, Lynn, we don't have to tell them Mr. Smith is here. Now, just you don't worry, young man. We won't say a word to a soul. Thank you. About 50 miles on the other side of Belford, Massachusetts, near the Connecticut line, a highway patrolman about dusk had followed a trail of bloody saw leading off the road, and found the body of a man in a clump of bushes. His head bashed in. By his side was an empty mail sack. The man was identified by papers in his pocket as a Connecticut rural mail carrier. Obviously, he had been murdered and his mail and car stolen. And since the state line had been crossed, it was a case for the FBI. And now, with the aid of flashlights, special agent Rickard of the FBI is going over the scene with a highway patrolman. Here's the body, Mr. Rickard. That's not a very pleasant sight. Whoever did it was a little on the fiendish side, I'd say. Yeah. One blow would have been enough. Probably use a piece of lead or iron pipe. Well, I'll have to get a plastic cast to the wound. Here's the mail sack. I'll take that with me. Could be some of the killer's fingerprints on it. I don't quite figure his motive. He seems to have been badly in need of a car. What about the mail? I just took that along, I guess, in case there was anything of value in it. If he only wanted a car, he could have stolen one with a lot less trouble. Part of the man who did this kind of a job, killing is no trouble. It's a sadistic pleasure. Well, you said you wanted me to help you make some plastic casts of the killer's footprints and those tire tracks up there at the road. Yeah. Let's get up there. And I guess you will want a range to get the body down to the morgue. Okay. Here's the spot where he dragged the body of this barbed wire fence. Well, he seems to have left us another little clue. Look, caught on this barb. Yeah, a tiny piece of cloth or something. Looks brown to me. Mail carrier wasn't wearing anything of that color. The killer must have snagged his own coat of britches. Well, I'll take it along to the lab. Let's make those casts now. We've got to get a line on this killer fast. There's no telling when or why he'll murder someone else. Back at the Creighton house, the young stranger who gave the name of Harold Smith has just finished the light supper. Effie Creighton fixed for him and gone to his room at the far end of the hall on the first floor. Effie and her granddaughter Lynn are in the kitchen cleaning up the few dishes. Mr. Smith was mighty hungry. He didn't leave a scrap. Nanny, what do you suppose he's got in that suitcase? Why, his clothes, of course. What else? That's just it. What else? What on earth are you talking about? You saw the way Blackie acted when he smelled the suitcase. Then say, Lynn, that imagination of yours... Blackie wasn't imagining. He smelled something wrong. Lynn, I'm going to sell that piano. If you don't stop playing spooky music and getting yourself all worked up like this. Nanny, I don't like the idea of us being alone in the house with that man. Oh, you want me to turn him out in the rain, I suppose. No, but I can get Uncle Will to come over and spend the night with us. Lynn, he's a nice young man. I'm going to call Uncle Will. He'll laugh at you. But he'll come over. He'd go anywhere if Aunt Sarah had let him out of the house. I'll get him over, don't worry. On sense, Lynn. I said the phone is dead. Well, what on earth could have happened to it? I think... I got a new lead while you were at it. Oh, it's it. The Postal Inspector cooperating on the case called in from Benning, Connecticut. That's the town the mail carrier worked out of, you know. Shortly after noon today, a young man about six feet tall robbed a movie cashier. He was wearing a brown suit, and he didn't use a pistol. He threatened the girl with a heavy piece of pipe. How'd he get away? Ran disappeared in the Saturday crowd before anybody knew what had happened. And he probably commandeered the mail carrier's car to make his full getaway. After they got over the state line, killed the mail carrier, dragged his body into the bushes, and took out with a car. Yeah, that sounds just like it. Where's the description of that car, Jim? Right here. Well, out of five state alarm on it, right away. What is this, heavens, Lynn? Have you been out in all that, ma'am? Yes. Why? I've checked the phone wires on the side of the house. They've been cut. Good. He did it, nanny. I know he did. But why? For all the reasons that I... I know you wished that I'd get settled for the night, but I've left something out in my car. Oh, that's all right, Mr. Smith. I want to thank you again for that supper that was awfully kind of you to fix it for me. I... I couldn't let you go to bed hungry. Thank you. Excuse me. Come on, nanny. Quick. Where? I'm going to look in that suitcase. Oh, but he'll be right back. Come on. Back and catch it. There's the suitcase. I'm going to find out what's in it. Where? It's full of letters. Look, nanny. All of them are addressed to people in Connecticut. And... Wait. What is it? There's something heavy under the letters. It feels like a piece of pipe or something. Nanny, look. There's blood on that piece of pipe. Yes. That's blood. I murdered a man with that. Well, you don't look surprised, young lady. I'm not. We're... we're not going to let you hide in this house. I'm going to the neighbors and call the police. Get back here. Oh, no. Listen, you young lady, you... you pick that up and put it back where you got it. I said pick it up until I'm ready to leave here. I'm running this house. Seeing you do, you'll both do exactly as I say. We momentarily close the equitable society's presentation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation file on the fugitive killer. We will return to this case in just a moment. One of our most eminent Americans, Benjamin Franklin, was a great believer in societies. As a young man, he formed his friends into the Leather Apron Club. Later, he organized the first circulating library in America and the first fire company in Philadelphia. And in 1743, he founded the American Philosophical Society. From that day to this, Americans have recognized that the best way to get things done is to get together, to cooperate. A society to which more Americans belong than almost any other is the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States with more than three and a quarter million members. Now, the purpose of the Equitable Society is security, financial security for its members and their families. Equitable members know that their society is something more than a great organization in which they have ensured their lives or provided security for their old age. They know that the Equitable Society is truly a society. That they themselves are the sole owners of this society and that their management has but one end in view. That end is to make membership in the Equitable Society mean the very maximum of protection and security. To accomplish this purpose, Equitable Society funds are invested wisely and soundly. They're used to promote agriculture and home ownership and to help build up the great industries on which our national prosperity depends. And so, by serving its members, the Equitable Society serves America. And now, back to the file on the Fugitive Killer. Instruments of modern science can only aid in identifying and convicting a criminal. They cannot catch him. That remains solely a job for human intelligence. In the case of the Fugitive Killer, many clues were now in the FBI laboratory ready to convict him. But it is up to Special Agent Rickard to find him. It is nearly one o'clock in the morning now, and the plane on which Rickard dispatched to Washington fingerprints found on the mail sack near the body of the rural postman was due to arrive in Washington at eleven o'clock. Rickard and Special Agent Lambert are sitting in the office mapping their next move when an assistant hurries in from the teletype room. Here's Washington's report on your man, Mr. Rickard. Oh, thanks. Yeah? Listen to this. Man is William Garland. Thirty-two, six feet half inch, 185 pounds, black hair, served term for assault and robbery, and... Hey, listen to this. Wanted for murder in Cleveland, Ohio. We better put that out on the Five-State Alarm, too. Okay, and then we'd better start traveling. Where? If Garland had kept on the move in that stolen car, some trace of it would have been reported by now. Oh, you think he's gone under? We must have gone into hiding shortly after killing and he's likely to be in this area. Right. We know he drove north after disposing of the body. Let's head for there and investigate all tourist camps and houses along the way. Right. Come on. Well, this is really quite a cozy picture, Miss Creighton. Your grandmother dosing in a rocker by the fire. So peaceful. It helps me to think. I see. I'm trying to figure out how to keep from killing you. Why? Well, there might be a better use for you. That's a car entering your driveway, isn't it? Yes. Well, just a minute, you sit down. Whoever it is is seeing the light on. All I said, you stay where you are. Hello. Yes? Well, awfully sorry to bother you this time, my night brother. I always hate to be bothered myself. What do you want? Well, I saw your sign on the mailbox down at the road and well, I'd like to take on a bit of shut-eye if it's okay. I'm terribly sorry to have to turn you down. Well, what's the matter? Full up? No, no, it's not that. We should have taken that sign down. There's sickness in the house. Oh, gee, I'm sorry. Say, I hope I haven't disturbed whoever's saying. Oh, you haven't? Well, we'll have to push into Belford and try my luck there. Thanks anyway. I hope they get better. Thank you, sir. Good night. Good night. I, I had to turn that gentleman away, but, well, you understand. Yes. Well, I think I've figured out what to do with you good people. We're going to take a little trip. What do you mean? Well, I can't stay here forever and I can't leave without you very well. You could kill us. Yes, but I've found a better use for you. This is that nobody is likely to suspect me if I'm traveling with a, well, a sweet little old lady and a pretty young girl, especially if I'm driving a car that the police are not looking for. But they must be looking for your car. They're not looking for yours. And that's the one we'll be traveling in. Special Agents Rickard and Lambert have investigated every tourist camp in House South of Belford without finding any trace of the killer. They have just stopped at an all-night lunch room in Belford for coffee. Here you are, gents. Thanks. Oh, by the way, waiter. Yes, sir. You know of any good tourist camp or house that's north of here? Yes, sir. You ain't far from a good one right now. Just a couple of miles up the road, the Creighton House. Hey, did you say the Creighton House? Yes, sir. Pardon me for buttoning in, fellas, but I was just there myself and got a turn down. Oh, yeah. The fellow that came to the door said there was sickness in the house. Oh, I see. Did you say the fellow that came to the door? Oh, yeah. Well, you must be talking about another house. I mean, no man lives at the Creighton House. Just an old lady and her granddaughter. I know them well. Oh, I'm sorry, but it was the Creighton House. I saw the name in the mail box. Oh, Mr. What did this fellow look like? I didn't pay much attention. Kind of tall, had on a brown suit. Lambert, let's go. I'll let you both ride up in the front seat with me. All right, come on. In you go. Take your hands off me. Just where do you think you're taking us? I told you. I'm taking you and your grandmother for a little ride. All right, get in. I said, get in there. We're losing time. I'm sorry that Blackie has to miss the trip, but a dog is such a carry, you know. There's a car. As I see it. It's going to turn up our drive. Well, that's too bad. They'll have to wait for me to drive out first. Just a minute, please. Don't either of you say a word. What do you want? Want to talk to you. What for? Special agent for the FBI. Sorry, I can't stop. OK, Lambert. After him. That must be the Creighton woman and the girl in there with him, Rickard. Yeah. Jim, pull up as close to that car as you can. You want me to force him off the road? No, I'll keep your headlights on his rear wheels. I'm going to try and shoot out of tire. Go to it, Rick. I'll keep your bullets low. OK. I got his tail light. That's got it, Rickard. Good work. Come on, step on it, Jim. And keep your hands on the wheel. You're women, all right? Thanks, Kevin. Lambert. Yeah. Keep your gun on him. All right. I'm going to change a tire and we'll see these ladies safely home. The FBI does not make an arrest unless it has sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest. And once a criminal is arrested, his conviction is practically a scientific certainty. For through your representatives in Congress, you have provided your FBI with a means for establishment of one of the most modern laboratories in the world designed for criminal detection. When William Garland was arrested, there was in the FBI laboratory as evidence against him a few threads from his suit, plastic cast of his footprints, auto tire tracks, fingerprints from the male sac, and specimens of blood from the murdered man to match with blood on the murder instrument. This laboratory is working 24 hours a day for your protection, making the road the criminal follows a dead-end street. You'll hear about the disposition of this case in just a minute. Imagine a cotton bag so big that the 90,000 square miles of Japan's largest island, Honshu, could have been dropped into it. Incidentally, that wouldn't have been such a bad idea, would it? Such a bag could have been made from a single order for tent canvas, which was filled by America's cotton textile industry last year. At least 10,000 other cotton products were used by the Army and Navy. They ranged from socks and shoestrings to smokeless powder and collapsible rafts. So will you join the equitable society in a salute to cotton and to the managers and workers of America's 1,200 cotton mills? Although one-third of this industry's manpower and womanpower, war Uncle Sam's uniforms, its output is running 50% higher than pre-war levels, an extra 50% that was vital to victory, which will now help raise the standard of living for America and the world. Members of the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States will be interested to know that their society has made a substantial investment in the cotton textile industry. In fact, equitable society funds have been a consistent factor in the growth and development of most of the great industries on which America depends for full employment and continued prosperity in the post-war years. In wartime, equitable society dollars were fighting dollars, and at all times, they are security dollars. For you, your home, and your country. William Garland was turned over to local police. He was tried and convicted on the charge of first-degree murder. The incidents used in tonight's Equitable Society's broadcast are taken from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. However, all names used are fictitious, and any similarity thereof to the names of persons living or dead is accidental. Programs in this series of particular interest to servicemen and women are broadcast overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service. Tonight, the music was under the direction of Frederick Steiner. The author was Frank Ferris. Your narrator was Frank Lovejoy. This is your FBI is a Jerry Devine production. And now this is Carl Frank speaking for the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States and inviting you to tune in again next week at this same time for this is your FBI. A page from the annals of our Courts of Justice. That's famous jury trials. Tonight's exciting case follows now over most of these stations. This is the American Broadcasting Company.