 to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes, brings you drag net. Detective Sergeant, you're assigned to robbery detail. A holdup has been committed in a neighboring city. A bystander is shot to death. Two others are wounded. The bandits are ruthless. Well armed. Your job? Get them. If you want a long cigarette, smoke the best of all long cigarettes. Smoke extra mild Fatima. Yes, Fatima is the king-size cigarette which contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos, superbly blended to make it extra mild. To give Fatima a much different, much better flavor and aroma than any other long cigarette. That's why Fatima has more than doubled its smokers coast to coast. Enjoy extra mild Fatima yourself. Best of all, long cigarettes. It's wise to smoke extra mild Fatima. It's wise to smoke extra mild Fatima. The documented drama of an actual crime. For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will travel step by step on the side of the law through an actual case from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Tuesday, October 6th. It was cool in Los Angeles. We're working a day watch out of robbery detail. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Captain Ed Walker. My name's Friday. I was on the way back from Calvary Cemetery. It was 1145 a.m. when I got to room 27A. Robbery detail. Pretty good turnout. Too sorry I couldn't make it. One of us had to be in court. Yeah. A lot of the boys out there, huh? Yeah. Martin had a lot of friends. It was a good cop. You see his black? Yeah. Well, that took it hard again. Pretty hard, yeah. You buy ready for lunch? I better make up the logbook first, man. We're a little behind. Yeah, all right. Hi, Stu. Ben, what's with you? Oh, same old thing. Say, what's the DR number on that job we handled yesterday? Hmm? The grocery store thing? You know, we showed those mug shots to the victims. You remember the DR number? Oh, yeah, yeah. I got it here. 3-7-4-3-3-2-3-2. Thanks. My name's Frank Cheney. Just been paroled from Folsom. Can you tell me where I registered? Yeah. I'll get one of the men from the rehabilitation detail. He'll take care of it. Thanks. Excuse me, Ben. Oh, yeah. Bossford. Shiny Bossford? Yeah. Got a minute? Something for you, man. I'll be right back. Did you contact the witnesses in this report here? Let me see. This one. Oh, yeah, yeah. I took care of it. I'll always at the desk once it registers next time. Hmm. Okay. Excuse me, Ramel. Yeah. Hi. You want to register? Yeah. My name's Frank Cheney. Okay. Dress? 218 Belgrade. Belgrade. Where you been? Folsom. Get out Saturday. Okay. What's your full form? Robbery. First degree. How much do you owe? It's served 18 years. I'm on life parol. What? Parol. Okay. Hey, thanks, Jim. Want to tell Rambo we're out for seven? We'll wait a couple minutes, huh? You see the guy at the desk? The one with Bossford. Yeah, he's an ex-con, right? Frank Cheney. 1931. Jack Taylor and I had him. First big one we ever drew. Oh, that's so. Did you ever hear of him? You used to call him a gentleman bandit? 1931, Claude. That's 18 years ago. Cheney was the biggest of him. Came from a wealthy family, too. A father's a millionaire. You sent him up, huh? Send Quinton. Trying to break out with a partner here. His partner killed a trustee. Cheney was sent to Folsom. From a millionaire family. That's a query. How about that lunch, fellas? Yeah, let's go. Seems like it could have been yesterday. 1931. We grow old right along with the thieves, huh? Where we go? Federal buffet? Sorry with me. 18 years. Yeah. Sure goes by in a hurry. I wonder if Cheney thinks so. As far as day-to-day routine goes, police work is pretty much like any other job. To the rookie detective just starting in, there's new things to see, new things to learn. But five or six years on the detail and the job gets pretty ordinary. You see a lot of dirt, a lot of trouble and tragedy, and after a while you begin to wonder what all the glamour is about and the excitement that's supposed to go along with the job. The fall months went by pretty slow. On November 3rd, we closed a case against a gang and drugstore holdup men. In December, Ben's youngster fell off a fence and sprained his wrist. My uncle George from Renton, Washington, visited my mother and me in January. Stayed a couple of weeks. On January 28th, it rained. Ben and I checked into the office where we got a phone call from Lieutenant Mort Geer of the San Diego Police Department. He gave us additional information on a finance company holdup which had been pulled in San Diego the day before. In the robbery, one bystander had been shot and killed and another one wounded by the two bandits. They also shot a police officer three times through the stomach when he tried to stop him. Next day, Sergeant Ormsby and McGuire from San Diego arrived and we helped him check the suspects through the stats office. A couple of bad ones, Joe. Both have guns and they use them. I don't have them got away in a car and the other one on foot. Is that right, McGuire? Yeah, a big one used a car. Well, size ought to help some. Say, 45 years old, right six foot one or two inches, weight 275, 85 pounds. Anybody get a look at the car, Ormsby? Blue Ford sedan, 1940 or 41 model. That's all we got. That's a rough one. After all the shooting, the witnesses didn't know what they saw. All mixed up. Well, how about the other one, the guy who got away on foot? He's a WMA about 50 years old, five feet eight, nine inches, 145, 55 pounds, where's Glasses? Yeah, we got that on the tele-times. That all? No, we traced from the Greyhound bus depot about six blocks in a holdup, changed his clothes in the washroom there, left behind a coat and a gun. Yeah. The coat was kind of give parolee some state pen. Check it through our crime lab. Same kind of suits they issued to all ex-cons. No make. At least you know one of them's an ex-con. How about that gun you found? It's a murder weapon. Our ballistics man went over it. No prints. Tried to trace a serial number. No record. CII and Sacramento's trying to run it down. Well, we got any hunches? A few. We're almost sure both of them have gone the route before. Pretty cool. Shot down three people, didn't bat an eye. How much did they take in the holdup? 11,000. Are your stats of us make around those descriptions yet? Yeah, this morning, Ornite's got the list of possibilities. They're pulling the mud costs now. I don't be wining enough about now. No, thanks. Hey, let's check. This is my callus. Go ahead and work. Oh, thanks. How's the wife, Ornite? Oh, fine, Van. She's expecting again. What are you going to do? Raising an army? Four kids? That's not so bad. McGuire's wife wants six. How about that, Mac? He's at five now. No point in quitting when you're ahead. Frank, you know a Russ Orange B and Tony McGuire, don't you? A San Diego PD? Yeah, sure, man. I'm going to ask you a question. Hi. Hi, Frank. Good to see you. Good. Just ready to call you. Got those mug shots together for you. I got them right here. Okay. There you are. This is back for Suspect One, list number two. Okay, Frank. We'll check them out with the witnesses. There's one mug there. Let me show you. Hey, listen. Here. It matches the description pretty close. Safe man, betrayed, but he can go any route. Name's Weber. First name? Stanley. Call him Turk, I think. Nickname. Know anything about it? Who's next cop? Ornite's being McGuire drove back to San Diego to show the mug shots to the hold-up witnesses and see if they could get an identification. Late the next afternoon, they called back to tell us that Stanley Turk Weber had definitely been identified from his mug shot by four of the five witnesses as one of the hold-up men. His partner remained unidentified. We called Turk Weber's parole officer, got all the available information on the suspect, including his latest address, an apartment house on North Alameda. Weber wasn't there. We talked with the apartment house manager and he told us that Turk hadn't been seen there since the day before the San Diego robbery and murder. We had a stakeout put on the apartment. Ben and I went back to the office and had the record bureau pull Weber's package. On his mama's sheet, Ben spotted a familiar name, Henry Garson, another ex-con, who was listed as one of Turk Weber's closest friends. We got a hold of Garson's parole officer. He told us Garson had had his parole transferred to San Diego, where he disappeared two weeks before he was wanted for violation of parole. We tried to check Weber through his relatives. We couldn't find any. But Henry Garson's report showed that he had a brother, Al, a dry cleaning shop down in Seal Beach. He had no criminal record. The next morning, we drove down to see him. Yeah, Henry came around last July. It's the last time I saw him. I want to borrow my car. You got any idea where he might be now? No. You're his brother. I don't know where he is. That's the truth. I don't want to know where he is. Was anyone with him when he came to see you last? You know who his friends are? Friends? No. Would you look at these pictures, please? See if you can identify any of them. Can't you talk to me later? It's not good for business. Having cops are on a shop. Who would you yell for if a shop was held up? I said get to doing it. Your brother's in trouble. We might stop him from getting in deeper. Hello, Mrs. Renner. Good morning, Al. Can I help you? No, I should go ahead and wait in the gentlemen's. No, that's all right. They're just waiting to get women. Can I help you? My husband's still a clean and present. Can you have that Tuesday? Tuesday, yeah, I'll do it. My flat jacket's clean and present. Can you put this on the stairs, please? Yeah, we'll take care of that. Tuesday, all right? Thanks, Mrs. Renner. I don't like to hold you up, Garson. Just a few more questions. All right. You said the last time your brother was here, he wanted to borrow your car. Is that right? That's right. Did you let him have it? I didn't have nothing. How about the red keepers? Oh, can't you let us alone? If Henry's in trouble, let him take care of it. We've got troubles enough of our own. This is important, Garson. We've got to have your cooperation. Why me? Oh, Henry's no good. I admit it. He's still my brother. Yeah. You asked me to send him to jail? If he belongs there, yeah. Look, I don't want any trouble. Yeah, we'll be in. My mother lives in Santa Barbara. Just moved there. I got the address. Henry goes to see her every once in a while. When's the last time he saw her? Two weeks ago. I was there, too, and something else. What's that? Henry had a gun. 11 a.m. Tuesday, Ben and I drove back to the office and put in a call to the Santa Barbara Police Department. We asked him to put a stake out on the home of Henry Garson's mother and to notify us the minute Garson was apprehended. We contacted San Diego and told him what we'd found out. After that, we doubled back on Turk Weber. From one of our informants, we heard that Weber and Garson had gone into some kind of a business together. For a bank role, they'd succeeded in getting a loan from the second national bank out in Glendale. 1 p.m. We drove out and checked with the manager of the bank's loan department, Mr. Peabody. Here we are, officers. Stanley T. Weber and Henry Garson loan papers were signed over a month ago. What kind of a loan was it, people? Business loan. Garson and Weber came in with another man. They talked to our manager, Mr. Ascot. Excuse me. What business are they in? Trucking concern. They wanted the money to buy equipment for more trucks. How much money did they borrow? $4,500, usual terms. I guess you inquired into their background. Oh, yes, their whole financial background. Did you know that Garson and Weber are both ex-convicts? I beg your pardon? Did you know that both of them are ex-convicts? Are you sure you haven't made a mistake? Henry Garson, Stanley T. Weber? Yeah, that's right. What'd they offer for collateral? Well, they had some of their equipment, two trucks, and, of course, there was the co-signer. Who was that? The name's right here on the loan papers. That's it. Right here, co-signer Frank Cheney. 2.30 p.m. Ben and I checked back into the office and went down the hall to R&I. We pulled a package on Frank Bertram Cheney. White male American, five foot eight and a half inches, 152 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. The record read like a dime novel. Almost 20 years before, Cheney had crashed into the headlines of Pacific Coast newspapers as the gentleman banned it. Maybe some of the news stories were exaggerated, but the record showed that he actually owned a yacht, three expensive cars, an apartment house. In spite of all this, he decided to settle for a career of robbery and murder. The age of 30 was the most sought-after man on the Pacific Coast. Finally, in 1931, after tracking him for a year and a half through more than a dozen armed robberies, Sergeant Staxter and Taylor of the Los Angeles Police Department brought him in. He served 18 years at San Quentin in the Folsom Penitentiaries, and then he won his parole at the age of 48. We checked his parole officer, and he had nothing to report against him. We checked back in at Robbery Detail and met with Captain Ed Walker. How about Cheney's friends, Weber and Garcin? Nothing yet? Another thing, Skipper, steak out still on Garcin's mother's place in San Diego, Weber's apartment still covered. You call San Diego about this, the Cheney angle? Yeah, we briefed him. They got all the mug shots down there. Weber's definitely been tagged as one of the men on that finance company job. I figured Garcin for the second, man, but none of the witnesses had picked out his mug shot. You talked to Cheney's parole officer? Yeah, I did. He gave us Cheney's last address. Same as the one on his ex-con registration, but he's moved. Didn't notify the office. What does that leave you? Well, I talked to the manager at the apartment. He gave us a couple of addresses to run down. I guess we better start getting on it, huh? Yeah, yeah, let's get on it. Keep in touch. I'll notify if anything breaks here. Right. Just a minute. Rob Ray Walker. Well? Yeah, just a minute. You, Joe. Thank you. San Diego. Friday. Good. You got something? Listening to Drag Nets, the case history of a police investigation presented in the public interest by Fatima Cigarettes. If you smoke a long cigarette, you'll be in your interest to listen to a typical case history of a Fatima smoker. It's the case of Lee Silver, general assignment reporter on one of New York's greatest newspapers. You'll see his picture in leading magazines this week. And here is his actual signed statement. When you have to meet a news deadline, you work at a fast pace, smoke at a fast pace. That's why I smoke Fatima. They're extra mild. In my opinion, it's wise to smoke extra mild Fatima. And more and more smokers are discovering this every day. The actual figures show Fatima has more than doubled its smokers coast to coast. So enjoy extra mild Fatima yourself. The king-size cigarette, which contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos, superbly blended to make it extra mild. You will prefer Fatima's much different, much better flavor and aroma. You will agree. It's wise to smoke extra mild Fatima. It's wise to smoke extra mild Fatima. The best of all, long cigarettes. Tuesday, January 31st, 4 p.m. In addition to the San Diego teletype, we got out a local broadcast and an APB on Frank Cheney. By 4.30, Ben and I had checked out the first of two addresses where Cheney's former landlady told us that he might be staying. It was a roaming house out on West Washington. The owner told us that Cheney had stayed at his place for a few days, but that had been more than two months before. He had no idea where the suspect might be. We then drove to the second address. It was an apartment house on West Stanford near Slosson. Manager's name was Mrs. Pritchard. Why, yes, I believe Mr. Mrs. Cheney at home. They've been in all day. What's your apartment is there in, ma'am? Number 7, straight down the hall on your right. Thank you. They may be having dinner now. Are they expecting you? Be all right, ma'am. Thank you. The apartment was deserted. We checked the bedroom and the kitchen. There were obvious signs of a fast getaway. On a card table in the living room, we found the remains of a quick dinner. Two places were set. One plate was almost cleaned, the other hardly touched. The coffee on the stove was still a little warm. We called the office and arranged for a steak out. Then we went back down the hall and talked to the manager again. They moved in about a month ago, sergeant. Looks like any other newly married couple. Did you notice if they had any visitors, Mrs. Project? Well, they might have, but I didn't notice. Did you notice anything odd about them at all? Only that one thing. Yes, ma'am. Mr. Cheney always seemed to have plenty of money. He put down two months right in advance. But he didn't seem to have a job. Yes, ma'am. Well, every morning he'd sleep late, but his wife was up at 8 o'clock to go to work. Where'd she work, you know? A company called Thompson and some other name. Offices are down on South Hope. Builders, I think. My phone. Excuse me. Yes, ma'am. Go right ahead. What? Yes, two police officers. Ms. Pritchard. No. Talk to you. Hello? Cheney? Yes, he hung up. An alert for Cheney and his wife was broadcast. With special attention for the south end of the city. The wife's name and description was added to the APB. The next morning, Ben and I located her place of employment. Thompson and Kilkenny, a big construction company. The office manager told us that three days before, Mrs. Cheney had resigned her job by letter. She asked that her final paycheck be sent to her mother and lived in Marysville, California. We contacted the Marysville Police Department immediately, and the home of Cheney's mother-in-law was placed under 24-hour surveillance. We now had more than a half a dozen stakeouts going. A week passed. Nothing. Cheney and his wife seemed to have dropped completely from sight. Wednesday, February 9th. We got a tip from the Santa Barbara Police that Cheney's friend, Henry Garson, was in Los Angeles working in an auction house in Wilshire Boulevard. We ran it down. Looks like a high-class place. They got a nice crowd, haven't they? You can't walk there? No, thanks. Would you like to see the manager, please? All right. Let me see. Oh, yes, over there by the claim desk. The man in the dark suit. Mr. Woolley. Thank you. Mr. Woolley? Yes? Police officers, sir. We'd like to check on a man who's supposed to be one of your employees. Oh, that's so. What's his name? Here's his picture. Can you identify him? Well, yes. It's Johnson, the new clerk. You want to talk to him? Yes, sir. All right. This way, he's back in the storeroom. Trouble? We'd like to talk to him. Yes, all right. Let's see. Oh, yes, there he is. Johnson. Oh, Johnson, would you come? Come on, Ben. Get running. What's it all about? Did he do something wrong? Yeah, he didn't get off when we asked him to. We drove Garson to Georgia Street receiving hospital, where he was treated for minor cuts and bruises. Then we took him back to the office in the interrogation room. We called San Diego and notified them of the arrest. From 10 o'clock that night until 10 the next morning, Captain Walker, Ben and I questioned Garson. He refused to admit that he even knew Frank Cheney or Turk Weber. By noon, he was pretty tired. So were we. At 12.05, a call came through from San Diego. On Friday, this is Russ Ormsby. Yeah, Russ. Friday. Yeah. Wednesday at 3.15 p.m. We got to the San Clemente turnoff and a few minutes later Ormsby and McGuire arrived from San Diego. We drove to the home of Weber's sister on South Orange Street and identified ourselves. She told us that Turk had been there that morning, but that he'd gone to the races at Del Mar for the afternoon. Did your brother say he was coming back? He said he might be back. He wasn't sure. Did he go to the racetrack alone? Yeah. Was he going to meet anyone there? I don't think so. He didn't mention it. He's driving a car. No, he took the bus to the track. I see. Where would he most likely go if he doesn't come back here? I don't know. Maybe back to LA, maybe San Diego. I don't know. Do you know if your brother Turk is going to make Frank Cheney? How could he? Turk says Cheney's up north someplace with his wife. He told me that this morning. Where up north? He didn't know. Mm-hmm. You and McGuire want to stake out here, Orbsby? Ben and I will hit the track. Yeah, okay. Look, I can't have cops here if Turk comes back. I think I framed him. You can get over it. You don't know Turk when he gets sorry. He goes out of his head. He'll kill me. Why worry, miss? Huh? You'll have to kill us first. 345 p.m. Ben and I left Weber's sister's house and drove down to the racetrack at Del Mar. We got there just at the start of the 7th race. We had no idea whether the suspect was still there or not. We alerted the security police, gave them mug shots of Weber. Then we went to the public address booth in the clubhouse and talked to the man in charge. A few minutes later, the trap for Weber was set. T. Weber, please come to the public desk over the emergency phone call. Mr. Stanley, T. Weber, please... We waited. Ben stationed at the vantage point on one side of the booth, me on the other. Minutes passed. Weber didn't show. Ben caught my eye and shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Stanley T. Weber, please come to the public address booth over the emergency phone call. Mr. Stanley T. Weber, please come to the public address booth. The announcer was barely finished when I saw Ben motion. I looked and saw a large man heading up the cement ramp. When I got to the top, he turned to his right and headed straight for the public address booth. It was T. Weber. Police officers, get your hands up. What is this? You lousy cops. I'll have you busted for this. David, Weber, get your hands up. What difference does it make sense to him? You'll never get him. You'll never get him in 20 years. Never get who? You know who, Chaney. He's too smart for you. You'll never get him not in 20 years. All right, we got you, Weber. Shake him, Ben. I'll shake you, copper. Watch it, Ben, look. That's it. Sure, a big bag. Yeah. What's that over there? That's all out of his pocket. It's like a tip sheet. Yeah. Yeah. Blue Boy's peerless selection for Thursday. Price, one dollar. Let me look at that a minute, can I? Yeah. Best picks. We can't lose. This is your lucky day. What's it prove? You gotta get his dollar back. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. On June 19th, trial was held in Superior Court, city and county of San Diego, state of California, in a moment the results of that trial. It's amazing how many long cigarette smokers are changing to extra-mild Fatima. Here is the actual report. From concerts? Yes, more and more smokers every day are discovering that Fatima is the king-size cigarette that is extra-mild. Extra-mild, because it contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos, superbly blended to make it extra-mild. To give it a much different, much better flavor and aroma. Enjoy extra-mild Fatima yourself. Best of all, long cigarettes. It's wise to smoke extra-mild Fatima. It's wise to smoke extra-mild Fatima. Music After identifying Frank Cheney as the man who did the shooting in the San Diego holdup and murder, Stanley T. Weber was tried and convicted of participation in the robbery and received a sentence of life imprisonment. Henry Garson was cleared of any complicity in the holdup killing, but he was returned to prison for violation of parole and for several burglaries in San Diego and Los Angeles. Both men are now serving their terms in the state penitentiary. Next week, Frank Cheney, the gentleman bandit. Part two. You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files. Technical Advice for Dragnet comes from the Office of Chief of Police W.A. Wharton, Los Angeles Police Department. Fatima Cigarettes, the best of all long cigarettes has brought you Dragnet from Los Angeles. There is Private Caper with comedian Sarah Berner on NBC.