 What we're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a juvenile detail. For the past two weeks, there have been rumors of a teenage gang war taking place in your city. You don't know when it's going to start. You don't know where. Your job? Stop it. This is the September the 8th. It's warm in Los Angeles. We were working the night to watch out a juvenile detail. For partners, Frank Smith, the boss is Captain Powers. My name's Friday. We just transported a prisoner from the main jail. It was 10.39 p.m. when we got to Georgia Street Juvenile. The interview room. Sit down, Angelo. Yeah. What, they called you Angie? Yeah, Angie. Why'd you tell the officers who arrested you that you were 18? How'd they find out different? All they had to do was check your record. Well, don't make any difference. Some of them say 16. Some say 17. They're all different. You're 17, though, aren't you? Yeah, 17. All right. You want to tell us about this burglary? I told the other guys. Ain't that enough? We want to hear it. Don't figure if you tell it once that's enough, I told them all about it. Why don't you ask them? All right, boy. Give us a story. You got a match? You'd better if you don't smoke, don't you think? Well, my folks don't care. They let me smoke. The law doesn't until you're 18. Oh, yeah. Come on, Angie. Tell us about it. There's nothing to tell. Ain't a couple other kids broke into a house. It's all there is to it. We just broke into the place. What about the stuff you took? I told the other two guys all about that. The officers in burglary? Yeah, they said it was from Central. I told them all about it, everything. You showed them where the plant was? I told them. I didn't go there, though. What'd you steal? Huh? The things you stole. Name them for us. Just different stuff. You know, like you're finding a house. All kinds of stuff. Was it an electric mixer? Yeah, good one. You know, an orange juice attachment. Good. What else? Electric razor. Some silverware? What kind of silverware? You know, like you eat with. Was there a silver tea service? A what? A tea service. You know what I mean? If I knew, I wouldn't ask you. Like a coffee pot with legs. A lot of scroll work on it. Silver, you know. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I know. Oh, was it one of those? No. How about a German Luger? It wasn't one of them. Hey, you guys gonna let me out tonight? No, you'll be held here. Well, I thought you was gonna let me go tonight. How about my folks? They know I'm here? We haven't had a chance to notify them yet. Where they live? Down on Wall. They have a phone? Uh-uh. I thought you always told them when you picked up a kid. You were booked as an adult. Oh, yeah. You fenced any of the stolen merchandise yet? No, we just got it last night. We just broke into the house and haven't had a chance to fence it. The other officers say they're gonna pick it up? Yeah. You got a job? What? I said are you working? I told you I did. What do you do? I'm a messenger. Ride a bike. Delivery thing. You're working there now? I'm here now. You know what I mean? No. You're not working then? The boss and me had a beef. He's moody with two. Real moody. Your parole officer know you lost the job? I never told him. Well, maybe he found out. Maybe that's why he was sore at you. Yeah. You've been reporting regular? Yeah, pretty much. What's that mean? Once in a while, a couple of times, I missed just a couple. Don't have to make a federal case out of it. My parole officer know about this arrest? I think he's been notified. How many times have you been arrested? I don't know. Six, seven? You ever been to camp? Yeah, I was there. What for? Truancy. How long were you there? Couple of weeks. And I broke out and he sent me to Preston. I'm on parole now. You can't let me out tonight, huh? Well, book you and notify your officer. What's his name? Lockridge. The moody old guy. He ain't in the mood when he sees me. Rough if he's in the mood. Is that right? Yeah. Like he came down to see me one day and asked me how I was doing. I told him fine. I had a job. I was doing fine. He says, that's good, Angie. Like that. That's good. Next day he comes to my house and reads me off. Says I'm a bum. I'm no good. All like that. Moody. Why do you read you off? I don't know. Didn't he tell you? No, he just came in and yelled at me. I wasn't doing anything. He's moody. You belong to a gang, Angie. Huh? I said you belong to a gang. Yeah, we got a club. I'm along to that. What's the name of the club? Little Wall Street gang. You heard of it? No. A good club. You sure you ain't heard of it? No. How about you? No. You're getting fight much? What do you mean fight? You ever get mixed up in gang wars or anything like that? No, no, not us. We've been in a couple of street fights, maybe. You know, some kids come over to where we are and start trouble, but we've never been in a gang wars. We got a good gang. You know anybody that belongs to pink rats? A couple of guys. I don't know them real well. Who are they? I told you. I don't know them real well. Just to know them when I see them, you know, like that. You don't know any of the names, huh? They want them to call Pinky. That's all I know. Look, why are you asking me about them? Well, we got a rumble that they're cooking up a gang war. I wondered if you know anything about it. What'd you hear it? I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't right. No, look, Angie, if this thing breaks loose, there's going to be a lot of kids hurt. If you've got no part in it, why don't you give us a story? I'm giving it to you. Ain't nothing more I can tell you. I didn't hear nothing about no war. I told you, I belong to the Little Wall Street gang. We don't get mixed up in no wars. A couple of street fights, maybe, but no wars. You going to stand on that? I haven't got any other way. What did you hear? What did you hear about the rats? About the war, I mean. Who are they going to fight? Oh, it comes to us. They're going to cut into the orchids. You mean from the south side? Yeah. They're rough guys. That's what we hear. How did it start? What do you mean? What's a beef? The orchids won't go that far away from home to stage something. Got to be a reason. You guys know what it is? From the way we got it, a girlfriend of one of the orchid gang moved over into the Pink Rat territory. We started to go with one of the rats. The orchids didn't like it, so they drove over one night and beat up another rat. The next night, the rats went over the south side and kicked around one of the orchids. That's the way it started. A couple of nights ago, one of the rat kids was riding down the street on the motorbike. A car full of orchids came up alongside the boy before he could do anything about it. They wrapped a piece of bicycle chain around his head. Killing? No. He's still in the county hospital. He's not doing too well. We've got word there's going to be a party this Saturday night at one of the rats' house. We figure maybe that's where the trouble's going to be. You're not throwing any coconuts at me. Well, this is for real? That's the way we get it. Those kids get started and something's going to get hurt real bad. Maybe a lot worse than you've got to figure. What do you mean? I heard about the job the orchids did last week. No. They broke into a place and cleaned it out. Must have been for Saturday night. How do you mean? They stole a couple of rifles. Something worse. Yeah? 12-year shotgun. 10.45 p.m. Angelo Marcal was rebooked at Georgia Street juvenile on a charge of burglary. His shoes and his belt were taken from him and he was held in detention. We put in a call to his parole officer and told him what had happened. After that, we drove by Marcal's home to inform his parents of the arrest, but we found nobody there. We left our card with a notation asking him to call us when they returned. Before the Marcal boy had been placed in the cell, we'd gotten a description of the boy he knew as Pinky. After trying to contact Marcal's parents, we went up to the second floor of the juvenile division and had the record bureau check the nickname and description. We came up with three possibles. We pulled the mug shots of the boys and showed them to Angelo Marcal, but he was unable to give us an identification. It was difficult to tell if the boy was lying or telling us the truth to try to cover up for the members of the Pink Rat gang. The following afternoon, Wednesday, September 9th, Frank and I checked into the office and then we drove out to see the parents of the Marcal boy. They still hadn't returned and the neighbors told us that they had seen the couple drive away early Monday morning without giving any indication as to when they might return. We asked the woman who lived next door to call us when they did come back. 4.40 p.m. we drove over to the east side of town to check on the three possibles named Pinky that we'd turned up the previous night. All of the boys were able to prove to our satisfaction that they were not the Pinky we were after. We talked to the youngsters in the neighborhood, asking them if they knew anything about an expected gang war. Either they didn't know anything about it or they wouldn't tell us. 6.15 p.m. we went back to the office and put in a call to Central Burglary. Yeah, we haven't got the exact date. The way we got it, there are a couple of rifles taken in a 12-gauge shotgun. No, and a 12-gauge shotgun. Yeah. Sure, I'll wait. I'm checking the reports now. This is one tip I'd like to have turned bad, wouldn't you? Yeah, I'm with you. Yeah, Rex? Mm-hmm. That'll be the 30, huh? Yeah. What's that? Yeah, I guess it might be. Won't help if it is. Right. Let us know, huh? Right. They got the reports. Guns are stolen on Tuesday, August 30th. They still haven't been able to get anything on it. Rifles were 30-ought-sixes. Your rifles, huh? Yeah. Olson says they got another report last night. Might mean something. Hardware store broken in two. What'd they take? Four boxes of 30-ought-six ammo. Three boxes of 12-gauge cartridges. It might have been a coincidence, but if it wasn't, the Orchid gang was armed with three guns and 225 rounds of ammunition. Enough to start and sustain a small war. 6.35 p.m., we contacted Lieutenant Hartgrove, the night watch commander, and he assigned two other teams of officers to work with us. In addition to the juvenile officers, radio units on a metro division, reserves, joined us in the search for members of the Orchid gang. The streets in the area were combed. Citizens in the area were questioned, but they failed to supply any information on the boys who belonged to the gang. The satin embroidered jackets the members of the Orchid gang wore had disappeared from the streets. At 12.01 a.m., the search was called off, and a broadcast was put out to the regular units in the area to be on the watch for any gang activities. 12.47 a.m., we got in touch with Rex Olson in Central Burgary. He told us at the crime lab it failed to come up with any physical evidence on the theft of ammunition from the hardware store. 1.20 a.m., Frank and I checked out of the ops and we went home. The following morning at 8.30 a.m., we got in touch with the juvenile informant, and he was able to give us more information on the expected gang war. He told us that the fight was set for Saturday night. He was unable to give us the exact address of the party that was to be crashed, but he did give us a general idea of the location. He was also able to give us the name Pinky Eggers and his address. He told us that the Eggers' boy was the leader of the Pink Rats and might be able to give us information on the membership of the Orchid gang. 12.40 p.m., Frank and I drove out to talk to the Eggers' boy. We checked his school, but he wasn't there. We went to his home. It was a small one-story frame building with a weathered picket fence surrounding it. The 1947 hopped up Ford was in the driveway. Frank and I went up on the porch and rang the bell. The yard could sure stand a clean enough. Yeah, one over the car belongs to him. I don't know. It sure looks fast. Yeah. Yeah? I'd like to see Pinky Eggers. Who are you? Police officers. Can't you lay off the kid? Why don't you quit rousing him? Is he here? No, he ain't here. And if he was, I don't think I'd let you see him. Is that his car? Yeah, it's his. Registered in his name? No one mind. Now what do you have to the kids for? I want to talk to him. Well, talk to me. I'm his father. Anything you have to say to him, you can tell me. Your boy belonged to a club called the Pink Rats gang. Why? Does he? You can answer no questions until you tell me why you're asking. Now, look, mister, we're not out here to pass a time of day. Your boy's mixed up in something that can turn out to be pretty serious. That's right. That's the way it is. Who says it's serious and what are you talking about? We got word that your boy's mixed up in a gang war that's going to break out this weekend. And you two big cops are out here leaning on a kid because he's mixed up in a beef. Listen, there's a five-year-old kid down the street skating on the sidewalk. Why don't you go put the arm on her? If this war breaks out and somebody's going to get hurt, maybe you're a boy. We're trying to stop it. Well, don't bother. Pinky will take care of himself. The cars trouble. The rats can swing their end. You want to stop the beef? Go talk to the other kids. Tell them to lay off. My boy's gang is now looking for trouble, and he's fighting going on. You can talk to the other kids. You check them. Leave my boy alone. We want to talk to him, Mr. Eggers. You going to make a pinch? No. We just want to talk to him. Should have known you were going to take him today. Only two of you. Well, I'm telling you, you ain't laying a hand on Pink. You try it. I'll haul you in every court in the country. Now get out of here. Where's your boy now? That's none of your business. I told you to get out. I understand, Eggers. This is a gang war. Your boy's helping to build it. Now you get off my property and don't come back. You hear me? Anything happens. Pinky can take care of himself. He'll be okay. Now you guys leave him alone. 3.15 p.m. Frank and I drove over to Pinky Eggers' school again. We spent the next two hours talking to the youngsters in the neighborhood. Those that would cooperate with us didn't have the information that we needed. The others refused to tell us anything. In the meantime, officers from 77th Street Division were checking on the activities of the Orchid Gang. They ran into the same evasive answers that we had. If the information we'd gotten was true, we had a little more than 48 hours to find the principles in the war before the shooting could start. Thursday night, 8.40 p.m., Frank and I met with Captain John Powers Lieutenant Hart Grove and the heads of the juvenile details throughout the city. From them we learned that word of the impending war had spread through the gangs in the separate districts. And that the other gangs were taking sides in the argument and were ready to start their own battles with factions who opposed them. Captain Powers, after the divisions, mapped the plan of action to be put into effect at the first sign of an outbreak. Additional cars from Metropolitan Division Reserves were to be ready if they were needed. Days off for all juvenile officers were canceled. The three-way radio contact would be kept open between all divisions on Saturday night. The area where the main activity was expected would be heavily patrolled both by beat men and by radio car officers. Once the operating plan was set up, there was little to do but wait. In the meantime, the search went on for members of the Orchid Gang and for Pinky Eggers, the leader of the Pink Raps. A watch had been placed on his home, but he failed to return. Friday, September 6th, 9.42 p.m. Frank and I checked with a burglary division on the stolen guns, then we went over to the New Yorker restaurant to get something to eat. Hi, Sal. Hey, Joe, call your office, and I just called you. Yeah, thanks. Order me the fish and chips, will you, Frank? Sure. How's it going, Sal? Not bad. Would you? Kind of rough. Where's Rosie? A friend of the kids went to the movies. Two, five, six, eight, please. Yeah, George, juvenile. Right. Friday. But when did it happen? Well, we'll get a pencil. Sal, hand me that menu, will you? Yeah. Here you are. All right, go ahead. Yeah, I got it. Yeah. Well, what do you want us to do? Yeah. May I know yet? Yeah, all right. No, we'll get right over there. Bye. Don't mind the food, Sal. What's the matter? Kids didn't wait until Saturday and just shot up Highland Park. What's the score? Still coming in. 11-year-old boy killed. The victim of the juvenile gang war was 11-year-old Tony Herman. The teenagers next door to the Herman house were having a party. At 9.36 p.m. Friday night, a group of youngsters had arrived at the house and tried to crash the party. A fist-fight had ensued, and Tony, who was doing his homework, next door had gone out to see what was causing the disturbance. As he stood on the porch, watching the fighting, a 12-gauge shotgun had been fired. The pellets from the cartridge had caught the youngster in the stomach and the abdomen, and he'd gone down. At the sound of the shot, the shooting had stopped and the party crashers had left the scene. The police had been called and Tony was removed to Georgia Street receiving hospital. He was dead on arrival. From the neighbors, descriptions of the party crashers had been obtained. All of the boys wore satin jackets with a large white orchid embroidered on the back. One of the people who saw the shooting said that the boy who'd fired the gun wore a jacket with a name, Jean, under the orchid design. A broadcast was gotten out immediately, along with a description of the car that the juveniles had used to escape. The parents of the Herman boy were not at home when the shooting occurred. From the neighbors, we found that they usually went to a movie on Friday night and they didn't return until after midnight. An officer was stationed at the house to bring them to the hospital when they returned. At 1.34 a.m., Mrs. Herman arrived at the hospital. She was a small, dark woman with graying hair. She didn't know what had happened. Frank and I met her in the hall. I want to see Sergeant Friday. Is he here? I'm Sergeant Friday, ma'am. Well, I'm Mrs. Herman. They say something's happened to Tony. Yes, ma'am. You want to step in here? Might be a little better to talk. All right. Can I see him? He isn't hurt bad, is he? It's that bicycle. I told his father I knew it was too soon for it. He's so little and to buy him a big bike like that, he couldn't hardly reach the pedals. Well, that's it, isn't it? He fell off the bicycle. No, ma'am. What is it to him? What is it? Something more? He's hurt. I want to see him. Just a minute, Mrs. Herman. Why won't you tell me what happened to him? My husband will be here in a few minutes and he's going to want to know. Why won't you tell me? How bad's he hurt? Pretty bad, ma'am. That's not an answer. How bad's he hurt? He's dead. Dead? Can we get you anything? My boy's dead? Tony? What? How'd he fall off the bicycle? He got it for his birthday on your bicycle. 28-inch wheels. I thought he'd fallen. I didn't know it was like this. Can I see him? My boy, can I? Yes, ma'am. How'd it happen? How? Oh, we're sorry about it, Mrs. Herman. My Tony had an accident with his death. He went to a movie to come home to find our son's death. We better get the doctor frank. Right. Doctor will be here in a minute, Mrs. Herman. He's doing his homework. Now he's dead. How did it happen, Mr. Fryden? The gun went off. He was standing on the porch. He was hit. But who was shooting? Who shot my boy who killed him? We don't know, Mrs. Herman. I want to know who it was who killed him. I want to know. His father's going to want to know. My boy's dead. My boy's alive. What are you going to make up for it, ma'am? The kid that fired the gun? Yeah. I got him downstairs. A few minutes after the broadcast had gone out on the boy wearing a jacket with a name Jean on it, two officers on York Boulevard had picked up the speeding car. In shaking down the occupants and the car itself, they'd found the jacket hidden under the rear seat. In the trunk of the automobile, they'd found the stolen rifles and the shotgun with one discharged cartridge in it. The three boys in the car had been taken into custody and brought immediately to Georgia Street. Two of the youngsters had been taken to the detention cells and the third himself as Jean Graff was brought to the office of the night watch commander. From the identification found in his pockets, we learned his name, address, and his age, 16 years old. His parents were notified that he was being held and they were asked to come to the office immediately. All the time the boy had been in the room and the calls had been made, he refused to say anything. When Frank hung up the phone after calling his parents, he made the first statement. What's that going to prove? What's that? Having them come down here. What are you going to prove with that? You want to tell us about it? That's a kid. You going to be all right? How bad is he hurt? He's dead. That's all you got to say? What do you want me to say? You gunned down an 11-year-old boy and that's all you got to say about it? Look, cop, I know the routine. You read me off, make a big speech, and I'm supposed to feel real bad. Well, I'd like to go along with you, but it won't work. Look, save the effort. Use the words in somebody else. Do what you're going to do and let's get it over with. How old are you? You already saw it. How old? 16. Pretty heavy, aren't you? I've been around, yeah. Don't get smart, kid. Not my fault. I was born that way. How many times have you been arrested? A couple. How many times? Four. For what? Suspicion 211, suspicion 245. You're 16. You've been picked up for robbery and assault. I didn't stand any of them. Have you ever been in camp? No. Have you ever served any time? Look, the taxpayers pay you a lot of money to keep records. Why don't you look all this up? It's there. Where'd you get the shotgun you used tonight? I won it in a raffle. I got a lot of luck. Yeah, well, it just ran out, kid. Now, I'm going to give you a piece of advice. If you're as smart as I think you are, you're going to take it. You start answering these questions. You start answering them right. You bought yourself a pile of trouble at you, and that smart mouth of yours aren't going to talk your way out of it. You killed somebody, an 11-year-old boy. You walked up that house with a gun, a gun you were ready to use, and you just answered the questions and never mind the sarcasm. Put the muscle away. You lean on me, and I'll have every sister in this state on your neck. I'm a juvenile. Don't you forget it. You just got out of that league. That's the way you see it. That's the way it is. From where you sit. But I'm telling you, you give me any muscle, and I'll scream my head off to every sob sister club in the country. I'm going to ask you once more, young fella. Where'd you get that gun? I bought a lucky ticket. Stick with it, kid. We're checking the numbers now. Those guns were taken on the burglary last week. You're dead on it. We got you going in. You try to make it stick. Don't worry. We will. You using narcotics? Do I look like a hype? I asked a question, and I gave you an answer. Did you drink? Sure. I'm a real lush. I'm going to tell you something. We're running out of patience with you. Well, then you better go get pumped up. You're going to need a lot more. What were you doing out there tonight? Where? Come off it. You know what I mean. Gently, gently. What were you doing at that party? What do you usually do at a party? I was having a good time. Why'd you take that gun with you? I was in the car. I didn't take it. I went along for the ride. Well, who put it there? I don't know. Other boys say it was yours. That's a lie. Prove it. I don't have to. You got to prove I didn't know about it. Well, you don't have to prove a thing. There are a couple of people who saw you shoot the kid. Guys, you were with it copped out. You're nailed, and you know it. We'll see what the judge has to say about it. I've gotten off before. I'll swing it this time. I'm a juvenile. I'm not responsible for what I do. You really believe that, don't you? I said it. You know, I got two kids. What do you want? A medal? I got two kids. They're pretty good youngsters, too. They go to school. They study hard, and they're trying hard to grow up to be decent human beings. They'll get married and raise ordinary families. They'll never do much of anything special to get their names in the papers. Nobody's going to give them much notice. Maybe that's the way they want it. But all of a sudden, somebody like you comes along, mean and rotten, and people hear about you. They figure all the kids sat down and wrote your name on a ballot, and now you represent all of them. That you're the shining example of American youth. They sit there and shake their heads and talk about what's happening to the younger generation. They got the wrong picture. It isn't true. None of it. You framed it. You act like a big man, and every decent, honest kid comes on looking like a bum. You sit there and blow off about being a juvenile. You like it because you think it'll buy you special privileges. Well, you're wrong, fella, not in my book. As far as I'm concerned, you're a rotten little killer and you're going to be treated like one. Now you bring out the rubber hose. All right, come on, let's go. Take your coat, boy. You're not coming back this way. Yeah. Come in. Mr. Friday? Yes, Ms. Herman. They told me I'd find you here. Is this the boy who did it? Yes, ma'am. What's your name? Answer. Jean Graff. Why'd you do it? Why'd you kill my boy? Did he do something to you? Is that it? Did Tony do something to you? Answer me. Say something. Just tell me one thing. What right do you have? What right does a young hoodlum like you have to stand there alive and breathing in my boy's head? What right? Do you hear me? What right? Ms. Herman. Make him tell me what right. What right? What right does he have to do a horrible thing like this? What right? I don't know, but we're going to take it away from him. Mr. Protect the Elephant. On October 4th, the petition was filed in juvenile court and the subject was declared unfit to be tried as a juvenile. He was ordered to be tried in superior court under the general law. Then Norton Graff was tried and convicted of murder in the second degree. He was referred to the Youth Authority for punishment. Murder in the second degree is punishable by imprisonment in the state penitentiary for a period of from five years to life. Dragnet. The story of your police force in action is a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service.