 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 Insurance 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, the story of a crime against the community, auto theft. Five years ago the theft of a car in your neighborhood was a matter of passing interest. In a newspaper it was reported on the back pages or not at all. But today the automobile is graduated from the luxury class to one of vital necessity. An automobile in first-class condition is a high-priced commodity, and there are hundreds of buyers for every seller. Into this fertile field of buyers at any prices move the racketeer. A racketeer who needs only a car, a stolen car, a forged bill of sale, and an unsuspecting buyer. Mobility is his cheap asset, but it's also his chief liability. Because the act of driving a stolen car across a state line is a federal offence, and the FBI in cooperation with local law enforcement agencies has been relentless in this war against this type of criminal. Sometimes the first lead on the case of this type comes as the result of a routine check, beginning as this one did with a couple driving along a road south of Richmond. A distinguished-looking couple, a couple just married. How can you even see, darling, that rain is coming down so hard? We'll stop at the next town if it doesn't let up. Tired? No, no, I feel fine. This was a wonderful idea. What, dear? This trip. Not much of a honeymoon, having to mix business in along the way. Oh, darling, I love it. This is the way I've always wanted to live. I used to go crazy being cooped up in the same place, seeing the same people. That can be dull. My mother was wonderful. She couldn't understand how I just met you and three weeks later wanted to marry you. She said I didn't know you. Didn't know your background. Well, mothers are like that. I just told her I didn't care. Charles, look out, we're skidding. Fay, Fay, are you all right? Yes, I think so. Well, thank heaven. How about you? I'm okay. Oh. What's the matter, dear? Look at the front of the car. Oh. Yeah. Let's get out. It's all smashed. I know. Let me help you, dear. Thanks. Where are you going? Just getting the license plate. License plate? Aren't you going to call a garage? No, it's too much farther, dear. Then what are you going to do? Well, leave the car here. What? Now, don't worry, sweetheart. I'll get another one tomorrow. The car is abandoned on a road ten miles south of Richmond. The plates are missing, but motor numbers are identification badges easily checked. Two days later, 300 miles south of Richmond, the police paid a call at the home of one John Taylor. Mr. Taylor? Yes? I've got some good news for you, sir. We found your car. My car? Yes. It ended up in Richmond. The local police there contacted us. It was checked through the motor number. The license plate was gone. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there's some mistake. Well, your name's John Taylor, isn't it? Yes. You own a 1938 Ford sedan? Well, that's right. But my car's in the garage. What? Yes, I just put it there not five minutes ago. Are you sure? Just take a look. There. You see it's sticking out. Has it ever been stolen? No, never. What's your motor number? Oh, just a second now. Look at the registration. I don't understand how come your car turns up in Richmond when it's really here? The motor number is 321264. Well, that's the same number, all right. Maybe you'd better tell somebody about this. Yeah. Maybe it'd better be the FBI. If there is an axiom in crime, it is that a mistake will be made sooner or later. The abandoned car, the car that was wrecked on the road south of Richmond, was examined by special agents of the FBI. Portions of the motor were removed and sent to the laboratories in Washington. After certain exhaustive tests were made, a report was forwarded to the FBI Richmond field office. What's the story, Tom? The motor numbers were altered. A pretty good job, too. Could the laboratory work up the original numbers? Yes. Wait a minute. Here we are. The car was from Toledo, Ohio. It was stolen out there. I see. It was then registered here in Virginia under a false name and with the aid of a fictitious bill of sale. With the idea of reselling it here, I suppose. Yes. Sounds like a very professional job. I know. What about that couple who abandoned the car? Well, we have a general description of them from the farmer who picked them up. You dropped them off here in Richmond? Yes. Excuse me. Right, speaking. Yes? Yes. Oh, wait. Let me write that down. Pencil? I have one, thanks. Go ahead. Right. Got it. Thanks. Goodbye. Now we're getting someplace. Who is that? Boone. He was checking a lead that farmer gave us. He said that he dropped the couple off at a cab stand. Yes. Boone contacted a driver who remembered picking up a man and woman answering to the description of our suspects. Good. He dropped them at a downtown hotel. I think we'd better get over there right now. Go ahead, gentlemen. Thank you. Thanks. Take us to the fourth floor, please. This is the only couple who answers to the description you gave me. Their name is Mead. That's right. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Mead. They're very charming people. How long have they lived here? Oh, on and off for several weeks now. What do you mean, on and off? Well, they've taken several short trips, but they've kept their room. Oh, sir. Go right ahead. The room is down here to the left. Very well. Do you know anything about what business Mr. Mead is in? He's a salesman of some sort. I don't know his line. You've talked with him? Oh, yes. We've been quite friendly. I've dined with him several times. That's why I'm sure you must have the wrong party. We'd like to talk with him anyway. Here we are for 12. I'm not so sure that he's home. Why? Well, he borrowed my car this morning. His is being repaired. He borrowed your car? That's right. Have you a pass key with you? Yes. I'd advise you to use it. What for? I have an idea that Mr. Mead is no longer a guest. Well, goodness, I... Wait, I have a key right here. Excuse me. Surely. Heavens, you are right. Everything's been moved out. How did you know he'd be gone? Because he borrowed your car. That happens to be his line of business. Even though the human memory is inaccurate and no two people see the same object exactly alike, verbal descriptions of an individual may enable the laboratories of the FBI to create a sketch of a face that will be amazingly exact. This has been done successfully in many cases where no photograph is available in the records. A description of Charles Mead and his wife was teletyped to all law enforcement agencies in the neighboring states. But professional car thieves moved swiftly. And even as the alarm was on the wires, the Meads were already established in another hotel, in another city 200 miles west of Richmond. Hey. Yes, sir? Did you see my brown gloves? They're right here on the dresser. Oh, thanks. How do I look? Oh, very handsome. Well, I have to run over now and see a prospect. Charles. Yeah? Before you go, I'd like to talk to you about something. Honey, I really have to... This is very important. It's about you. Well? Darling, what do you really do? What do you mean? Your work. Well, I told you I'm a salesman. I know that's what you've told me. But I'd like you to explain a couple of things. Like what? Well, the things that happened back in Richmond. I don't know what you're talking about, honey. That car we wrecked. You're just leaving it there. I attended to that later. I had it sent to a garage. I don't believe you. Oh, well, no. You want me to tell you what I do believe? Do you? All right. That was a stolen car, wasn't it? That's how you make your living. Yeah. I thought so. Look, darling, I couldn't tell you. Why? Because I love you. I knew if you ever found out the truth, that would be the end of us. That would be the end of us. That would be the end of... What are you laughing at? You. Huh? Why did you think you could keep it from me, Charles? And why did you think it would matter? Hey. Come here. Well? I think it's wonderful. What? I love it. And I want to work right along with you. The bride of Charles Mead proved a willing partner in her husband's business. They Mead had expansive ideas and put them immediately into operation. In rapid succession from widely separated sections, came reports of stolen cars. Each theft had the same pattern, almost the same conditions. The FBI was reasonably sure that Mead and company was behind each one. But the Meads were still at large 400 miles from the scene of the last theft, in another city, in another hotel room. I'll get it, dear. Hello, Charlie. Oh, hello there, Stanton. Come on in. Thanks. I don't believe you've met my wife. No, uh, how'd you do, ma'am? Hello, Mr. Stanton. I, uh, wonder if we can go someplace and talk, Charlie. What's wrong with right here? Well, uh, this is about our business. My wife knows all about that. Oh. So what's on your mind? Well, my reason for coming up here was to tell you that we're going to split up our partnership. Why? What's wrong? Nothing wrong. I just think the time has come to quit. You mean you'd rather hook up with someone else? No, I... I just want to get out of the whole business. My garage is doing well, and I'm making enough money legitimately. I don't want to spoil that. Charles. Yes, sir. May I ask Mr. Stanton a few questions? Well, sure, go ahead. Mr. Stanton, you've made a lot of money with Charles, haven't you? Well, yes, but... I believe he even set you up in this garage in the first place. He wanted a front to dispose of the cars. That's right. Then it's not going to make it very easy if you walk out on him. I'm sorry, Mrs. Mead. That doesn't help. Look, I never liked this business in the first place. I only did it because I needed money, desperately. Wait, Charles. Mr. Stanton, I'd like to point out something to you. We have eight cars stored away. Eight cars that my husband worked very hard to get. Now you're going to sell those cars for him just as you originally agreed. I can do it. Then you leave us only one choice. What do you mean? We'll have to spoil that respectable front you've been maintaining. Now, just a minute... I mean it, Mr. Stanton. I believe you do. Now, when do we send you the eight cars? To the FBI, the case of Charles Mead was open. And an open case means that the entire facilities of the FBI are working without pause, searching every possibility, every source where a clue may be. The motor vehicle records of the state of Virginia were exhaustively checked and rechecked. It was discovered that over two dozen cars were fraudulently registered. Cars from over two dozen states. Motor numbers changed, fictitious bills of sale issued. Most of them had been sold to innocent dealers. Dealers whose recollection of the cellar reconfirmed the picture of Charles Mead. One sale, a sale of eight cars to a garage in North Carolina, is a real clue. A real possibility for positive information. Agents of the FBI pay to visit to Mr. Stanton, the owner of that garage. See, gentlemen, I'm just at a loss to understand any of this. I've purchased those cars in good faith. You had no idea that they were stolen, Mr. Stanton? None whatsoever. Who sold them to you? Well, it was various people. People you knew? No. According to the registration records in Virginia, one man sold all of those cars to you, Mr. Stanton. Well, I suppose you give us the real facts. Well, one man did sell them. But he told me he represented several owners. Who was this man? The name was... You see, Crawford. George Crawford. How did you meet him? He answered an ad I put in the papers. And then he came here to my garage. Can you describe him? Not too well. Do you mind if we take a look around the garage here, Mr. Stanton? What for? Just a routine inspection. Very well. Go ahead. I'll go out back to the office to get you those registrations. Thanks. What are you interested in, Tom? That workbench over there. Come on. I noticed it on the way in. It had some very familiar equipment on it. Look it over. Well, electric drills, buffing machine. Not forgetting those sandpaper discs and that steel brush. Very handy equipment to alter motor numbers on stolen cars. Yes. Do you think... That came from the office. Yes, come on. It looks like Mr. Mead just lost a partner. We momentarily close the Federal Bureau of Investigation file on Charles Mead, car thief. We will return to this case in just a moment. Let's suppose that all the members of the Equitable Society decided to live together in one community. The result would be a city almost as large as Chicago. For this society now has over 3,200,000 members. Actually, of course, these Equitable Members are widely distributed. Every state in the Union is largely represented. And by the same token, every section of the nation benefits by the investments of Equitable Society funds. The premium dollars sent in by Equitable Members are used to promote industry and agriculture in all parts of the country. Equitable dollars help finance shipbuilders on the Pacific Coast, ranchers in Wyoming, oilmen in Texas, miners in Minnesota, coal producers in Pennsylvania, farmers and workers throughout the land. And so this great mutual organization is indeed well named the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States. In both its membership and the distribution of its investments, it takes in the entire United States. And so you see by serving its members, the Equitable Society serves America. And now back to the file on Charles Mead, Car Thief. In the FBI headquarters in Washington, there is row upon row of file cabinets containing cases marked complete. An examination of any one of these will show that every thread, every rumor, every bit of information pertinent to that case, however minute, has been investigated to a conclusion. There are no loose ends, only complete and irrefutable proof. The suicide of the garagekeeper enabled the FBI to uncover many additional facts regarding Charles Mead. Special agents conducted an intensive search in the dead man's garage. Records were combed over, correspondence checked. Finally out of this painstaking work there emerged a clue. A small clue, a letter that had been mailed to the garageman by Mead over a year before. A letter sent from Portland, Oregon. A letter with a return address. A teletype was sent to the Portland field office and a special agent was sent to the address to investigate. I bet this is something to do with my nephew Charlie. Charles Mead? That's him. I was right, huh? Do you know where he is? No, I haven't seen him in over a year. He went east to Cleveland, but I know he isn't there anymore. Why not? Because I wrote him at the address he gave me. The letter was returned. May I have that address anyway? Sure, but I don't think it'll do you any good. Charlie moves fast and often. Wanted notices on Charles Mead were sent out from the FBI headquarters in Washington for national distribution. Meanwhile, the one lead, the slender lead, the year-old address in Cleveland was followed up by a special agent there. No, Mr. Mead hasn't lived here in... let me see now, at least eight months. Did he leave any forwarding address? No, he just packed his trunks and left. Trunks? Yeah, two of them. How were they moved? Well, I believe it was American Express. Thank you very much. A search of the express company records, a long, tedious search, was finally rewarded. The record showed that two trunks belonging to one Charles Mead were picked up at the Cleveland address and delivered to an apartment house in Louisville, Kentucky. Charles Mead moved out about two months ago. I understand he went back east to get married. Where in the east? He didn't say. Did he leave any trunks? Yes, two of them. Did he take them with him? No, he had them sent to storage. Here in Louisville? Yes, to the Acme Storage warehouse. I hope there's something in these trunks after getting a search warrant and all. Let's examine this one first. Right. Let's see. One, two, three suits and a top coat here. We'll try the drawers. Well... What is it? A box of keys, car keys. That would be Mr. Mead, all right. Here's some cans of automobile paint. For retouching purposes. Yes. What story did you get from the warehouse, people? They said he paid them two months in advance. And no further word from it. No, none at all. That two months should be up. It is. He owes the money now. Well, we've got one good chance then. That he'll get in touch with the warehouse? Yes. And give us a chance to get in touch with him. The special agents kept in constant touch with the warehouse. One day, two weeks after their first visit, a letter arrived. A letter containing a money order. A money order signed by Charles Mead. But Mead was still clever. Although the letter was postmarked St. Louis, Missouri, there was no return address. The money order, however, was issued at the garden of postal station, which is located in the suburbs. Special agents went there at once. That's his complete description. I see. Do you recall him at all? I'm trying to think. The money order was issued last Tuesday. Well, that might be a help. Tuesday. That was a pretty slow day. Did any strangers come in here at all? Yes. Yes, I remember now. A fellow came in here around noondime. Yes. He was... Well, say, he looked just like the fellow you described. Are you sure? Of course. I remember him real well now. He told me he was just driving through. Did he say where he was heading? No. Oh, now wait, though. He did ask one question. What was that? He wanted to know about a good tourist camp. Yes. I recommended Brockton's Place. That's about six miles further out. Brockton's Place. Let's go, Tom. Charles. Charles. Yeah? Are you going to sleep all day, darling? No. No, I'm getting up. What time is it? Almost noon. I'm dead. You got a good night's sleep. Honey, a dozen nights sleep are just about getting me even. Come on now, get up. We have to start packing. Yeah, I know. It's just about all we do in life. I'm getting awful sick. Now, let's not go into that again. Okay, look, we've got enough money now, enough money to settle down in one spot and enjoy ourselves for a while. Oh, no. Well, honey... Listen, Charles, I've told you. I spent all my life being settled in one spot. I never want to do it again. Well, we can't keep living like this. Bad hotels, tourists... I like them. I love going from place to place, and that's what I intend to do. With or without you, darling. What do you mean? If you want that settling down business, you do it without me. Oh, no, wait a minute. I mean it. Okay, honey. You'll win. Who's that? How do I know? Wait. Yeah? How are you, Mr. Mead? Who are you? We're special agents of the FBI. Charles. There we are. Well, it looks like you're going to get your way, darling. We're settling down. Abnormal conditions brought on by the war have opened lucrative fields for the criminal. Lucrative temporarily because the criminal has to risk a battle of wits and a battle of endurance with the FBI. And that is a battle he cannot win. Last year alone over five million dollars worth of stolen cars were recovered and over 2,000 car thieves were convicted. The FBI is and will be relentless in the apprehension of anyone threatening the security or rights of the people of the United States. It is your organization. It is part of the government. And the government is you. You'll hear about the disposition of this case in just a minute. Will you join the equitable society in a salute? A salute to the men who weld the plates and hammer home the rivets. To the men and women whose strong right arms have built ships and more ships far faster than Nazi U-boats and Jap suicide planes could sink them. Since war was declared, America's shipyards have added 100,000 vessels to the Navy. And for the Navy and merchant marine together have launched 40 billion dollars worth of shipping. And all this in addition to countless repair jobs on all types of vessels from battleships and flat tops to submarines and minesweepers. That's proof, if any proof was needed, that the way we do things in America is more than a match for any other way or any other system bar none. Members of the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States are proud to know that their premium dollars have backed up the ship builders. That Equitable Society funds are invested in this, America's second largest war industry, as well as in scores of other great manufacturing enterprises, now concentrating on war production. In wartime, Equitable Society dollars are fighting dollars. And at all times, they are securely dollars for you, your home, and your country. After being indicted by a federal grand jury at Columbus, Ohio, Charles Mead and his wife pleaded guilty to violating the National Motor Vehicle Theft Act. They were each given sentences totaling 20 years in a federal penitentiary. The incidents used in tonight'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. Tonight, the music was under the direction of Van Cleave. Your narrator was Frank Lovejoy. This is your FBI as a Jerry Divine production. Now this is Charles 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. This is the American Broadcasting Company.