 The Equitable Life Insurance Society presents This Is Your FBI! This Is Your FBI! The official broadcast from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation presented transcribed as a public service by the Equitable Life Insurance Society of the United States and the Equitable Society's representative in your community. How would you like to meet a man who could show you an easy way to provide for the future financial security of yourself and your family? Well, just pick up your telephone anytime and call your local Equitable Society representative. Giving you peace of mind is his business. Talking things over with this friendly, helpful neighbor won't cost you a penny. In about 14 minutes, I'd like to tell you more about him. He can help you too enjoy the many benefits of membership in the Equitable Life Insurance Society of the United States. Tonight, the subject of our FBI file, Kidnapping. It's titled Pick Up. In the field of fiction, the recurrent theme of the perfect crime almost invariably concerns the act of murder. Yet in cold fact, the murderer is among all criminals the least likely to evade apprehension and arrest. Figures in the uniform crime reports compiled by your FBI show that in 1951, 94.9% of the murders committed in the United States were cleared within the same calendar year. Today and every day, law enforcement officers throughout America are proving the truth of the old adage that, though it has no tongue, yet murder will speak. Tonight's FBI file opens on a street corner in an eastern city. It is approximately 1 a.m. A cold, drenching rain has been falling intermittently for several hours. The two young women who stand beside a bus stop sign peering down the almost deserted street hold soggy newspapers over their heads and another two shield themselves from the element. Oh, here it comes again. Oh, isn't that bus ever going to come? Oh, this newspaper leaks like a sieve. I'm sorry, I should have brought the umbrella. You certainly should have. Oh, I still think we should have let Bob Hershey drive us home. Oh, Ellie, not me. One, just one dance and he gets fresh. Want to let girls ignore him? Well, come on, it's raining. It is, isn't it? Well, you both look about half-drowned. That's why I stopped. Well, how about it? You want that ride? Oh, I guess not. Thanks, anyway. Hey, look, this isn't a pickup. I mean, I don't usually do it. Sure, sure. Well, have a sure way. Wait a minute, mister. Ellie, he looks all right. Besides, that bus is never going to come. I don't know, Joanne. I know, Ellie, you can protect me. Okay, mister. You've got passengers. This is the place, isn't it, Ellie? That's right. Okay. Joanne, why don't you spend the night with me? We could go to work together in the morning. Oh, all right. Hey, wait a minute. I said door to door delivery. Oh, thanks, Doc. I got to drive all the way to West Park. Anyhow, I want company. Well, that's very nice, but... Oh, come on, dear sport. Don't... Forget it, Ellie. She's going home. Oh, all right, please. I said I'd take you home now, didn't I? It's a matter, don't you trust me? Joanne, I... While her friend Eleanor Haig watches, the man they know only as art, drives Joanne Gordon onto the approaches of a bridge, which crosses a river into an adjoining state. Approximately one half hour later, feeling some concern for the safety of her friend, Eleanor Haig attempts to contact her by telephone. There is no answer. Morning, Joanne Gordon fails to report for work at her job. The next day, she is still missing from her desk, and the telephone at her apartment still does not answer. Finally, on the morning of the third day, Eleanor Haig goes to the police and makes out a missing persons report, stating that Joanne Gordon, age 28, born in Davenport, Iowa, blonde, blue-eyed, single, has disappeared. 24 hours later at the local FBI field office, Special Agent Jim Taylor emerges from the elevator. He is met by Special Agent Richard Schwartz. Jim. Oh, hello, Dink. That girl, the SAC, wanted us to interview. Yeah, she's waiting in the interrogation room. Gordon. She the one the police sent over? Yeah, that's right. Name's Eleanor Haig. Here's the file. Suspected kidnapping, huh? Uh-huh. She saw the missing woman being taken across the state line, so the police referred it to us. Oh, go ahead, Dink. All right. Miss Haig? Yes? Miss Haig, I'm Special Agent Taylor. This is Agent Schwartz. Hi, how do you do? How do you do? Do you mind answering a few questions for us? Oh, anything, anything at all. Fine. Now, your friend, uh, Joanne Gordon, she wasn't in the customer going off with strange men. No, no. And she's been missing for the last four days, is that right? Yes. At first, when she didn't come to work, I thought, well, she'd been talking about taking a few days off to go visit her brother and sister-in-law in Florida. You checked them? Yesterday morning. They hadn't heard from her. I see. Now, um, this car that picked you up, Miss Haig, you didn't get the license number? I'm afraid not. It was raining, you know. Would you recognize the car again, do you think? I might. It was a black coupe with red seat covers. What about the driver? A man who, uh, say, called himself Art? I don't know. He was 30 or 35, but he looked younger. Sandy hair, a real shortcut. You know a butch. You're going to find Joanne, aren't you, Mr. Taylor? You're going to be able to find her. An all-points bulletin is issued containing the most detailed available descriptions of the missing woman, her supposed abductor and the coupe in which she was last seen. During the following four days, reports are received from persons in five eastern seaboard states, each claiming to have seen Joanne Gordon and the man called Art. Each story is carefully checked. Each proves a case of mistaken identity. Dick, I'm waiting for a report on the soil content from Mellon or Haig's shoes. You think she might have picked up some debris from the car floor? Why? She just called, Jim. She what? She's had a letter from Joanne Gordon. Legitimate? Sure. She thinks so. It's typed. Has a few mistakes a professional stenographer might not make, but it sounds like her friend was pretty excited. Well, what's it say? That she's with Art. That they've gone to Shore City. That they're planning to get married. New Jersey Postmark? No, Baltimore. Letter says she was mailing it on the way. What about the signature? That was typed, too. The Haig girl says that's not too unusual. Maybe it's all been a wild goose-chasting. Yeah, it could be. We'd better run it through the lab for fingerprint and typewriter identification just in case, excuse me. Agent Taylor. What? Black Coop. Yelp. What about the upholstery? That's right, red seat covers. Yelp. Thanks a lot. Yes, thanks. It'll help. That our car? Sounds like it. The New York police reports a black Coop abandoned on a side street. Been there over a week. Steering wheel, dash and door handles. They've been wiped clean. Sounds suspicious. Police have that license report for you yet? Yelp. Cars registered to the Wellington Tire & Rubber Company. That adds up. I found a blank salesman's order book in the glove compartment. Company car? I guess so. You turn up anything else? Some cigarettes in the ash receiver. Lipstick marks on about half of them. That's the missing woman's brand. Sure. I also found this piece of paper. Looks like it's torn from a letter. It says, Therefore we will be glad to hold your reservation for the week of the fourth. Thank you for your patronage and we trust that you will be pleased with your stay here. Yours very truly the Sands Hotel by J.D. Evans, assistant manager. Sands Hotel? Yeah. There's one in Shore City. That's right. I'll put through a call after I talk to the laboratory. All right. I'm going to turn up at the Wellington Tire & Rubber Company. Ah, yes. Yes, Mr. Taylor. That automobile is most certainly one of ours. Matter of fact, I was discussing it with our transportation director just this morning. Ah. We were considering reporting its disappearance. Why didn't you, Mr. Wellington? Well, Arthur Foster, the salesman assigned to it, has been one of our most trusted employees. We wanted to give him every opportunity to straighten it out. You say he had been? Yes. He came in here, oh, I guess about a week ago. I think it was. Collected commissions due and handed in his resignation. Did he give any reason? Said it was his doctor's orders. Nerves were shot. Had to take long rest. He didn't say where he was going, did he? No, no he didn't. And the car, sir? Well, he waited a day or two expecting it to come in and then I called his wife. And? Well, she seemed to think he was still on the road. Have you talked to her since? No. Well, do you know his address? He lived somewhere out in the suburbs. Nice little house. Controller will be able to give you the address. All right, fine. Thank you, sir. Oh, there's one more thing. Yes? When Forster was last in, you wouldn't know if he used a typewriter. Well, yes, yes. As a matter of fact, it did. Said he had a couple of letters to get out and I told him to use the machine in the salesman's office. First door, right down at the end of the hall. I just talked to that assistant manager at the Sands Hotel of Shore City, Jim. And Arthur Forster had a reservation, all right? But he never kept it. Oh. You get a lab report on that typewriter sample? Yeah, it checks for the letter that Eleanor Hague got. Characters, space Steven, light stroke. Lab says there are indications the letter was written by an inexperienced typist. Well, that rules out Joanne Gordon. Well, that is a phony. Forster's a man, all right? A lipstick on those cigarettes. Check, too. Same brand, the missing woman always used. Well, no. All I have to do is find him and her. What about his wife? Nobody home. I'm going up there again this afternoon as a... Excuse me. Agent Taylor. What? Yeah. No. We were expecting that. Yeah. All right, thanks very much. Only missing one now, Dick. They found Joanne Gordon. She's been choked to death. We will return in just a moment to tonight's exciting case from the official files of your FBI. How much money do you think your family would need to keep them in comfort if something happened to you? 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And now back to tonight's FBI file pickup. The investigation of a crime commonly passes through several phases, among which perhaps the most important is that of identification. Frequently, as in tonight's case, identification may depend on a grain of soil, a scrap of fabric, a bit of hair, a smear of blood or food or cosmetic, the imprint of a rubber heel, a typewriter key, an automobile tire. In the hands of the trained scientist in the FBI laboratory, these often microscopic indications of a criminal's passing form his clear signature, sometimes on his own death warrant. Tonight's FBI file continues at the city morgue. Special agents Jim Taylor and Richard Schwartz pause before the slap which contains the body of Joann Gordon. This is it, Jim. Oh, I called Eleanor Hague. She said she'd meet us here. How'd she take it? Not too bad. I guess she was really expecting it. Corn has reported in yet? Yeah. She strangled Laura. All right. Died almost instantly. Nice guy. Clean cut. No. Hold it, hold it, Dick. Mr. Taylor, is this absolutely necessary? I mean... I'm... I'm sorry, Miss Hague, but I'm afraid we need a definite identification. Definite? Then there's a chance that this isn't Joann? There's a... there's a chance, yes. All right, Dick. Yes. Yes, that's Joann. That bracelet. She's still wearing it. A boyfriend sent it to her from Arizona. He called it a... a good luck bracelet. Turquoise and silver, see? For good luck. Mrs. Foster? Yes. I'm Special Agent Taylor, the FBI. Here are my credentials. I'd like to ask you a few questions. You may come in. Thank you. Sit down if you wish. Thanks. Now, your husband is Arthur Foster? That's right. He's not here. My husband's a traveling salesman, Mr. Taylor. He's on the road. I see. Would you mind answering a few questions about him? Why? What's he done? Mrs. Foster, you may have read in the newspapers about the death of a Joann Gordon. Joann... Gordon. Yes. Yes. Yes, I've read about her. You mean you think my husband is... I'm afraid it looks that way, Mrs. Foster. That's ridiculous. That's perfectly ridiculous. I know how you feel, but there are several facts that well need to be cleared up. For instance... Your husband did drive a black coupe, didn't he? Belong to the company, yes. He's using it now. No, I'm afraid not. As a matter of fact, he's not working for the Wellington Company anymore. I don't believe it. Well, you can check that if you like. Arthur, good husband. He's reliable. We have a family, Mr. Taylor. Two daughters. He's a good father. When did you see your husband last, Mrs. Foster? A week ago, Friday. That was the night the girl disappeared. What time did he get here? Late. Quite late. He'd been on the road. I see, and he left the next day? Yes, in the morning. We'd planned to go to Shore City for a few days, but he said it would have to be postponed. Something about work. And since then? I told you, he's on the road. No, Mrs. Foster. I don't know what you're up to, Mr. Taylor, but I'm not going to let art be persecuted like this. Persecuted? Just because that crazy doctor at the sanitarium said that... He was in a sanitarium? Don't have to answer your questions. Do I, Mr. Taylor? No. No, ma'am, you don't, but we want to find your husband, Mrs. Foster. We want to talk to him. Whether he's innocent or guilty, we want to find him. He's innocent. If he is, I give you my word that we'll do everything possible to clear him just as quickly as it can be done. If he's guilty, you should... You've already made up your mind to it, haven't you? I work with facts, Mrs. Foster, not opinions. You said you have a daughter. Two of them. Whoever did this thing is still at large. We want to catch him. Mr. Taylor? Yes, ma'am. I'll answer your questions. Dick, how'd you make out at the sanitarium? I talked to the head psychiatrist, Jim. He remembers Arthur Foster all right now. He was in for observation, attempted suicide. It was only a preliminary study, but it seems there were some definite indications of mental aberration. His wife had him released before they could go any further. Any homicidal tendencies? Well, the doctor said that often goes along with the suicide trial, especially by violent means. Are you working up a report on the case? Oh, no, not yet. There's just kind of a master sheet on Arthur Foster. It contains everything we know about him to date. Is she anything useful? Not much, I'm afraid. He's a normal American guy on the surface, a couple of years of college, played football. He liked fishing, photography. He used to work summers as a guide at some fishing resort down the bay. Hmm. Boats are pretty good place for a guide of Hein. Yeah, except that. I'll contact the Coast Guard and make a small craft check. What about the wander circulars, they ready? Coming off the presses now. The net around Arthur Foster is made of fine mesh. Circulars containing pictures and a full description are distributed to police departments, county and state law enforcement agencies, and service organizations in 18 states. Coast Guard and customs officials are alerted to be on the watch for the wanted man as our ticket agents for all forms of interstate transportation. Foster's home, his former place of employment, and all of his known haunts are put under 24-hour surveillance, a week passes and another, and Arthur Foster has not been taken into custody. On Thursday of the third week, nearly a month after Joanne Gordon and Eleanor Hague had accepted a ride in the rain from a stranger. A message is received at the local field office from the sheriff at Wilbur Cove. A man answering the description of the fugitive has been seen in the vicinity and is believed to have taken possession of a deserted fishing shack located several miles up the beach. Special Agent Jim Taylor hurries to Wilbur Cove to investigate. There it is down there, Mr. Taylor. The tar paper shack by the tight lines. Okay. How many men have you got, Sheriff? Five. I don't know if it is staked out in those dunes, huh? They armed? Yeah, rivals. All right, tell them to cover me. You mean you're going down there alone? That's right. Ain't you figuring on shooting it out with him? It's not if I can help it. Foster! Are you in there, Foster? This is an agent of the FBI, Foster, open up. Who are the Foster? I'm afraid you'd never get here. I killed her. I didn't mean to. Do you know about it? I guess so. You left Eleanor Hagoff in front of her apartment. Then what? Me and the other girl, Joanne, we stopped over the bridge. Had something to eat. Then we drove around for a while, parked on a side street. I started to kiss her, and I don't know what came over me. It was like a light. Right behind my eyes. It hurt. It just lasted a couple of seconds. I got strong hands, see, but I didn't know it could happen, not that quick. I didn't know you could in... in only a couple of seconds. Well, then you knew she was dead. Not right away, I wasn't sure. I thought maybe she'd fainted. I kept trying to bring her out of it, and then I knew... And after that? Drove around for a while, then I went home. Body still in the car? Yeah. All night, the garage. Next day I started out, I figured I'd drive to the bay, and I got scared, and I dumped her. I guess you know the rest. Yeah, most of it. There's just one thing that I don't get. Yeah? What happened to me? I was just an ordinary guy. Sure, I chased around a little, but... but I'm no killer. What happened? Why did I do it? Why? Author Foster was turned over to state authorities for a prosecutive action on the murder charge. Following psychiatric examination, he was pronounced of unsound mind and was committed to an institution for the criminally insane. Since the Second World War, crimes such as the one dramatized tonight, crimes of violence, crimes against the person have shown an alarming rate of increase. To this problem, law enforcement alone is not the answer. No swift solution and quick arrest can bring a dead girl back to life. No conviction or execution can restore laughter to a shattered childhood. Your FBI urges you to exercise caution when dealing with strangers, to report suspicious persons to the police, to cooperate with your local authorities in order to speed the day when the streets of America will be paths of light on which you and your children may walk without fear. There's one thing I wish you'd keep in mind. You don't have to be rich to provide future financial security for yourself and your family and there's a man who can prove it to you. Get acquainted with your local Equitable Society representative. He'll be glad to bring you free and without obligation you'll have to go to the courting chart for fathers and mothers. He'll be glad to analyze your problem and present a plan that serves your best interests. No matter what your life insurance problem, home ownership, your children's education, independence when you quit work for good, he knows the answers. Just consult your local telephone directory for the name of your local Equitable Representative. You'll find it in the yellow pages of the entirety of the United States. Next week we will dramatize another case from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It's subject, bank robbery. It's title, snow screen. The incidents used into nice equitable life insurance society's broadcast are adapted from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. However, all names used are fictitious and any similarity thereof to the names of places or persons living or dead is accidental. Tonight the music was composed and conducted by Frederick Steiner. The author was Robert Yale Libbet. Your narrator was William Woodson and special agent Taylor was played by Stacy Harris. Others in the cast were Irene Anders, Michael Ann Barrett, Sally Cassel, Walter Catlett, Tony Hughes, Bill Johnstone and James McCallion. This is your FBI is a Jerry Divine production. This is Larry Keating speaking for the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States and the Equitable Society's representative in your community and inviting you to tune in again next week at the same time when the Equitable Life Assurance Society will bring you another thrilling transcribe story from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Snow screen. On this is your FBI. Stay tuned for the adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. There's fun for the whole family when Ozzie and Harriet come your way next. We're here from Hollywood. This is ABC Radio Network.