 The story you're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima's cigarettes, king size, extra mild and soothing brings you dragnet on both radio and television. You're an investigating sergeant. You're assigned a traffic division, AID. Death and tragedy is forecast for the people of your city. You don't know who the victims will be. You don't know how many there will be. Your job? Try and stop it. Compare Fatima with any other king-size cigarette. Yes, compare Fatima with any other king-size cigarette. One, Fatima's length filters the smoke 85 millimeters for your protection. Two, Fatima's length cools the smoke for your protection. Three, Fatima's length gives you those extra puffs, 21 percent longer than standard cigarette size. Fatima gives you more for your money. And in king-size Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke. Plus, the added protection of Fatima quality. Buy Fatima in the bright, sunny yellow pack. Dragnet, 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 transcribed from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment. Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Thursday, July 3rd. It was warm in Los Angeles. We were working the night watch out of traffic division, accident investigation. My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Deputy Chief Caldwell. My name's Freddie. I was on the way back from the scene of the accident, and it was 9.42 p.m. when I got to Georgia Street receiving hospital. Second floor, treatment room 5. Joe? Hi, how's it going? Not too good. How are they? Bad, all four of them. The girl who was riding in the front seat, both legs crushed. I know. Talking to Doc Hall, nothing he can do, gonna have to amputate. All the parents been notified? Yeah, they're on their way down now. Cigarette? Yeah, thanks. I got a match. All right, thanks. Still touch and go when the kid who was driving, the Wheeler boy, Doc doesn't give him much of a chance. Possible to get a statement from him? No, still unconscious. They get pictures of the wreck, all right? Yeah, they did. The car, the kids were in, laid down 207 feet of skid marks. From the condition of the car, it's a wonder any of them are alive. Not a straight piece of metal in the wreck plane. How about that couple in the sedanly side? Doctor isn't sure they both have internal injuries. Women's right leg is fractured, man, as a possible concussion. Bouncy thing. Every one of them's old enough to know better. What made them think they could get away with it? Oh, hi, Doctor. Roddy? Any change, Doc? Which one you mean? The Wheeler boy. No, I stole the same. The other three kids are doing a little better. It's a shame none of them are more than 14, 15 years old, I think. Both the girls are 13. Wheeler boy, 16. The other boy's 12. Pretty young to be out alone, burning up the streets. How'd that happen? Well, one of the girls told us that the Wheeler boy picked up the three of them about eight o'clock tonight, asked them if they wanted to go for a ride in his father's new car. They thought they were going down to the neighborhood driving for a coat. The girl said they drove around the neighborhood for a while. Wheeler boy was bragging about what a good driver he was, how fast the car would go. Kept telling the kids that he could drive as fast as his father did. When I hear it's too bad you can't hold a father. Yeah, it's pretty obvious he didn't set much of an example. The girl told us that the Wheeler boy drove down to the highway. She spotted a police car behind him and told the Wheeler kid to slow up. He said something like, my father outran a cop the other day. If he can do it, I know I can. Well, the kids pleaded with him to pull over and stop and he wouldn't listen. Told him to shut up and hang on and that he'd show him some real fancy driving. Had a chase of more than 19 miles, Doc. Car in pursuit, radio in for help. We tried to block off the intersections ahead of them. They were just going too fast. How'd the boy crack up? Side-swiped the sedan with that old couple in it. Lost control of the car, went into a skid. The car hit the curb, blew a tire, piled head on into a parked truck. The impact drove the engine of the truck right back into the cabin. I never saw anything like it. The car the kids were in is almost broken in half. Well, I've done everything I can for them. I'll keep the wheeler boy in a critical room. The nurse is in there with him now. I'll move the other three back into the warden. We want to make our report, Doc. You've done an M.T. slip on them. Yeah, I just finished it. That's right. Thank you. You know, I got a 16-year-old boy Friday. Every time I make one of these things, I say a prayer. Hope they never have to make one out for my boy. Well, excuse me. I better go back in there and check on that youngster. All right, Doc. Thanks. Look at this M.T., Frank. Everything in the book. What's that? Listen. Grace Anders, 13-year-old occupation student. Fractured jaw, teeth knocked out, facial cuts, internal injuries, crushed pelvis and shock. Here's the next one. Nancy Haynes, 13-year-old occupation student. Deep facial cuts, compound fractures of the right and left legs, crushed chest, possible concussion and shock. The other boy, Walter Stewart, 12-year-old occupation student. Deep facial cuts and contusions, shock and possible concussion. Fractured ribs, possible puncture of the left lung. Left hand severed above the knuckles. Here's the slip on the wheeler, boy. Charles Wheeler, 16-year-old occupation student. Crushed forehead, possible spinal fracture. Both legs broken. Fractured ribs, broken pelvis, deep facial cuts, severe internal injuries and shock. My name's Wheeler. Where's my boy? What have they done with him? All right, take it easy, Mr. Wheeler. Doctor will be out in a minute. I don't want the doctor to see my boy. Where is he? What happened anyway? Would you keep your voice down, please? The doctor will see you in a minute. He's with your son now. Oh, you? What do you know about it? Police officers. Your boy had an accident. We're investigating it. I know he had an accident. They already told me that. Whose fault was it? Who ran into him? Nobody ran into him, Mr. Wheeler. The accident was his fault. What do you mean it couldn't have been? That boy's a good driver. I taught him myself. Would you keep your voice down, please? I want to get to the bottom of this thing. I want to see my boy. What are you stalling me for? Nobody's stalling you, sir. You can see your boy as soon as the doctor okays it. I'm going to take him to my own doctor. I wouldn't trust my boy in a place like this. Who ordered him here anyway? We did. It was an emergency. The ambulance took him here from the scene of the accident. Well, you still haven't told me how it happened. Now, why do you say it was his fault? Why are you accusing him? It was his fault, Mr. Wheeler. There's no doubt about it. He was speeding and a police car tried to catch him. He tried to outrun him in the process. He ran into a parked truck. I knew it wasn't his fault. Sir? Something's going a little too fast. Charlie's a good driver. Why'd you have to chase him? Probably the cause of the whole thing. You're the ones to blame. Take it easy, Mr. Wheeler. Take it easy. Nothing. Why couldn't you let the kid alone? He could drive as well as I can. Think I'd let the kid have my new car if he couldn't handle it? What about a driver's license, sir? Your son had one? Well, no. I didn't have a chance to get him one. Too busy to take him down there for the test. The stupid thing, anyway, any more on can pass it. The point is, you wouldn't have to chase him. He wasn't hurting anybody. I taught him how to drive. He drives just like I do. He's a fast driver, but he's a good one. I ought to know. Our radio cars had to chase your boy 19 miles, Mr. Wheeler. 11 cars chased him. Your boy was endangering the life of everybody on that highway. In a 25-mile-an-hour zone, he was clocked at better than 70 miles an hour. At one time, we figured he must have been doing better than 90. He went through a dozen boulevard stops. He barely missed a woman pedestrian. The woman had a baby in her arms. Just before he cracked up, he side-swiped another car, an old couple in it. They're in this hospital, too, and they're hurt. They're hurt bad. Now you go ahead inside and make those two old people believe your son's a good driver that he was just having some innocent fun, will you? It's not all his fault. He probably wouldn't have done it if you didn't chase him. I know my boy can handle a car. I raced cops myself once in a while. Charlie was with me. He's cool. He knows what he's doing behind the wheel. Just because you drive fast doesn't make you a bad driver. It helps. Yeah, Doc. It's a fair minute. This is Mr. Wheeler, father of the boy who was driving the car. This is Dr. Hall. Where's Charlie? I want to see him. I'm sorry, sir. You'll have to wait a few minutes. He's lost a lot of blood. They're giving him another transfusion. What's the matter with him? How bad is he hurt? Here's a report. Read it to your son. What kind of treatment do you give him? You sure you know what you're doing? I think so. I've been on this job for 11 years. That's how long I've been dealing with fools like you. What? I heard you running and raving out here at these offices. Well, let me tell you this, Mr. All three of you were wrong. That boy of yours lying in there isn't a blame. You are his own father. You were driving that car tonight. I heard you ranting out here. You taught him how to drive. He can drive as well as you can. He's cool. He knows how to handle a car. You taught him how to race cops. Well, the results are inside, Mr. Wheeler. Look here. I don't want any sermons from you. I want to see my boy. I want to see him right now. Well, you're not going to get any sermons from me. They wouldn't help you. But I'm going to tell you what's on my mind. I've seen your kind for years. I've sewed them up. I've patched them up and I pulled a sheet over their face. So far, your luck hasn't happened to you. You're on borrowed time. It must be true what they say. The good Lord takes care of the fools and the drunks. Well, I can tell you now I wouldn't feel half as bad if it was you inside there on that bed instead of your son. Oh, what are people like you going to learn? What are you going to learn? I came down here to see my son. You're not impressing me a bit. Well, then maybe you ought to come down here some weekend, some holiday. Maybe that'd impress you. You stand inside that treatment room with me and watch them come over that table. A lot of them come in married and go out with it. All kinds, all ages. They pull them out of the wrecks and they drag them in here and they expect miracles from us. They're bad and broken and some of them you have to look twice because it's hard to tell the human beings. You know who's responsible, Mr. Wheeler? You know who? Egregant, egotistical, good, fast drivers like you. Well, I'm sick of you, Mr. Wheeler. I'm sick of the whole rotten stupid mess. I'm sick of fools like you. Dr. Hall? Yeah, ma'am. See you in a moment, please. Yeah, all right. Sure makes him so far an expert, doesn't he? He preached everybody who comes in here? No matter if fact, he's usually pretty quiet. Well, what's the matter with him? Get out of the wrong side of bed? Maybe this will explain it. He's got a 16-year-old boy of his own. What's he beefing about? It's my kid that's hurt, not his. Every kid he treats is his. Mr. Wheeler? Is it all right? Can I see Charlie now? Yeah. Thanks. I'm sorry about everything, Dr. I... I really am. I'm sorry. It's all mine, Mr. Wheeler. Your boy's dead. When George Wheeler recovered from the initial shock of his son's death, we told him it was necessary that the body be removed to the county morgue where an autopsy would be performed the following day. After that, his son's remains would be available to a mortuary of the family's choosing. Frank and I drove back to the office where we filed a 311 dead body report on 16-year-old Charles Wheeler. After that, we called the coroner's office and notified them to pick up the body at Georgia Street-Receiving Hospital. 10.35 p.m., we left the traffic division garage and went back on the air. We were cruising the central area. 10.53 p.m., we got the call, a leaso in spring, ambulance follow-up, victim of a hit-and-run driver. We were within a block of the call. Must be it up ahead, Joe, on the corner. Oh, yeah. Pull up any place right here, I guess. All right, come on. Slide out my side. Yeah. Let it through, please. Police officers, excuse me. Pardon me. I wonder if I can get through here, please. Excuse us, excuse us. Doctor, do you follow the doctors? No, we're police officers. Oh, yeah, I see. Where's the ambulance? Be here in a minute. How did it happen? The old man was trying to cross the street, a bus hit him. Look at him. Terrible, cruel guy. You working around here? Yeah, I saw papers right over in that corner over there. My name's Harry Johansson. Do you want me for a witness? Frank, get his name and address. Well, y'all check the old man. Yeah, all right. All right, now don't move around, Dad. Don't try to get out the ambulance. He'll be here in a minute. It hurts. It's bad. Terrible pain in my back. Your legs hurt you, Dad? No. I don't feel a thing in my legs. It's just my back. I had a terrible pain. What's your name? Clyde, Clyde, Logan. Where do you live, Dad? Over there, just up in the corner. Apartment 37. Hey, could you go over and see her? I want to see if she's all right. She's going to be awful worried. Yeah, we'll take care of it. You been drinking, Dad? Well, just tonight. Can I have the doctor to set her out? I haven't been to class support every night. I was just on my way home when it happened. Oh, my bad. I'm sure it was just a glass of pork, Dad. Yeah, that's right. I never touch anything but that glass of pork before I go to bed. So would you please send somebody to see about real apartment 37? She's going to be all over worried. Yes, sir. We'll take care of it. Oh, this feels terrible. I've got to get up. Help me up, will you, officer? All right. You sure you feel up to it, Dad? I don't know. It's an awful pain in my back. I know I'm not supposed to move to the ambulance, but maybe it'll go away if I stand up. All right, sir. Here you go. There you go. Frank, see a minute? Yeah. Cancel the ambulance. What do you want me to? Cancel it. Call the wagon. All right. I'm going to get help, Sergeant. Are they coming for me? Yeah, you're going to get help, Dad. It's on the way. I come to the corner here and I start to cross over. And what do you think right now to know where this big red bus has come up the street? It must have been going 60. It kept right on going. I thought for a minute there was going for sure. Did you say it was a big red bus? It was red to blue. What's the difference? It run me down. Oh, look at that. Get there a little quick. Look at that. What's that? My shape, Frank. Look, it's all red. It's fine. Get some help. I'm bleeding, Dad. Get some help. Oh, there's a sharp pain in my ribs. Take your coat off, Dad. That's the idea. The pain's gone now. Well, I don't know what your blood type is, Dad, but you're bleeding port wine. Oh, no. Worse than you thought it was, Dad, you broke your bottle of port. It's all wrapped up in paper, too, so wonder how it happened. Just look at my brand new shirt, all that good wine. Joe, cancel the ambulance. Call the communications for the wagon. What's the score? There's somebody up in my place to see Leonid's apartment, 37, building right up in the corner. Please look after Leonid. Yeah, we'll tell her, Dad. When you see her, would you please give me this? What's this? Piece of liver. Leonid just loves liver. I didn't know you were married to Clyde when that happened. I'm not married. And then who's Leonid? That's my cat. The best friend I've got in the world. Where's the ambulance? There's not going to be any ambulance, Dad. We've got a car coming instead. I'm a sick man, Sergeant. I need an ambulance. You're a hit-and-run victim every time you get enough port wine, Dad. I don't know what you mean. It's a glass of water every night. That's all I ever take. What time do you think it is now? I don't know. I went over to the jacket at about 8 o'clock. Must be 8.15, 8.30. Why? It's 10 minutes past 11, Dad. You're overdue. You got it, Joe. What's the pitch? What you know? I had Logan. Got an arrest sheet as long as you're armed. Somebody down at Central Tagum with the name Hit-and-Run Logan. He's a town carry. What's the idea of the Hit-and-Run Star? Every time he gets loaded, he likes to ride in an ambulance with a siren wide open, so he lays down in the street pretending he's been hit. Every city's got at least one of them, I guess. Some of them turn in fire alarms, some of them confess to murder, some of them just beat their wives. Clyde likes to be a hit-and-run victim. See, what are you going to do? You're going to lock me up? No choice, Dad. I suppose not. See, would you talk to the jail and see if I could get my old job back? I mean, you know, anything in the kitchen. I like to work in the kitchen. Yeah, all right. We'll talk to him. And just one more thing. Would you go see Jackie Martin for me? Place right up the street there. You know, you'd see the sign there? Yeah. Jackie's old-time wine shop. That's the place. Well, you go in there and you ask for Jackie to tell him that I sent you a scene. You can say that he's not going to get any more of my business. You tell him I won't even pay him what I owe him. What's the matter, Dad? Why are you mad at him? Well, I got good enough reason, all the trade that I've given him and all the money I spent there, a double cost. He can't keep customers that way and he'll find that out. What do you mean, Dad? Well, look, right here on the side wall. Yeah. Jackie Martin, you know, in his cheap bottles. You are listening to Dragnet, authentic stories of your police force in action. Friends, because of its quality, its extra mildness, its better flavor and aroma, more smokers coast to coast are switching to king-size Fatimas every day. Yes, more smokers coast to coast are finding that in Fatima the difference is quality. Now, here's the practical way to prove Fatima quality yourself. Compare Fatima with any other king-size cigarette. One, Fatima's length filters the smoke 85 millimeters for your protection. Two, Fatima's length cools the smoke for your protection. Three, Fatima's length gives you those extra pups, 21% longer than standard cigarette size. Fatima gives you more for your money. And in king-size Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke plus the added protection of Fatima quality. Remember, more and more of your friends are switching to king-size Fatimas. Compare them yourself, king-size Fatima, extra mild and soothing plus the added protection of Fatima quality. Look for the bright sunny yellow pack. Buy king-size Fatima. Thursday, July 3rd, 11.30 p.m. There was still half an hour to go before the July 4th weekend even started. But in the last seven and a half hours, Central Traffic had answered 13 major accident calls. Four of them were fatalities. If it was any indication of the next 72 hours, the 4th of July weekend was due to spell death and tragedy for more people than we figured. 12.10 a.m. We received another ambulance follow-up call this time at 11th and Georgia. A young couple on a motorcycle trying to beat the stop signal had crashed headlong into the side of an eastbound bus. One was taken to the hospital. One was taken to the county morgue. 12.20 a.m. After taking care of the necessary reports, we impounded the motorcycle. The next half hour was fairly quiet. 12.55 a.m. We went off the air and stopped to have a cup of coffee. 1.15 a.m. We called back in service. We continued cruising the central area. At 1.48 a.m., 12 minutes before quitting time, we got a call for Wilshire and Toberman Street, an ambulance follow-up, city property damage, motor officer. 1.15 a.m. We arrived at the scene. Approximately 20 feet from the southwest corner, a police motorcycle was sprawled on the street. The front of it was demolished. About 30 feet from the motorcycle, lying face down on the street, was the figure of a man in a police uniform. All right, would you step back, please? Please, everybody, back up there on the sidewalk, please. Help me. Please. All right, don't try to move, fella. This is Brian. Yeah. Hey, Mike. Brian? Tried to miss him. Couldn't help it. Take it easy, now. Don't try to talk. Ambulance is on the way, Mike. Don't kill me, Joe. Chest... Chest hurts. Hey, but my collar can't breathe. All right, sure, Mike. Come on, take it easy now. Don't move. Chasing this car, cream convertible. Man, woman. I think he was 502. Big chase. Red light. Sorry. Sorry. All right, now take it easy, Mike. Relax. Other car, turn. Other car, turn right in front of me. I saw it. Nothing I could do. Couldn't stop. Turn right in front of me. I'm gonna go see her. Evelyn. She's waiting. All right, well, you take it easy, Mike. Don't talk and don't move. This will work out all right. Take it easy. Joe? Evelyn? Mike. Joe, got a coat here. Slip it under his head. He'll be more comfortable. No, he doesn't need it, Frank. He's comfortable. 1.57 a.m. The ambulance arrived and O'Brien's body was removed to the county morgue. Photographs were taken. Diagrams were drawn and statements taken from the witnesses. A truck from Central Garage arrived and started removing the dead officer's motorcycle. Frank and I went over and started interviewing the driver of the car which O'Brien had collided with. She identified herself as Kareen Norton, a bookkeeper at a South Los Angeles defense plant. I was making a left turn. That's all. Next thing I knew, he hit my car. You can see what he did to it. Who's gonna pay for the damages? We can talk about that later, Miss Norton. Our first concern is we'd like to find out what happened. Well, there's nothing to it. I already told you. This cop ran into me. There wasn't anything I could do. What would you start from the beginning, please, and tell us exactly what happened? From the beginning of what? I told you. You ran into my car. What more do you want to know? Sorry, it happened, but I couldn't help it. Look at my car. How am I gonna get to work in the morning? Please tell us what happened here, Miss. Just as near as you can remember. Well, I was going down this way on Wilshire on my way home. I started to make a left turn on the toberman, and this cop on the motorcycle drove right into me. Wasn't anything I could do his fault. I couldn't help it. Could we see your operator's license, please? Certainly. Let's see it. Here's some, please. Yeah, here it is. All right. Do you want to read about Frank? Yeah. California operator's license number B208-927. Okay, got it. Corrine, C-O-R-I-N-N-E-M, Norton. 10,033, Ruth Allen, Los Angeles. 10,032. Right. Female, five foot three and a half, 123 pounds. Born February 18th, 1999. Blue eyes, brown hair. Must wear adequate glasses. Just a minute. Okay. Do you have your glasses with you, Miss Norton? Yes, right here in my purse. I really don't have to wear them. This is well without. Were you wearing your glasses at the time of the accident? Yes, I was. I took them off right after the accident. Here they are, right here in my purse. See? Miss Norton, we understand the motorcycle officer had his red light and siren in operation at the time of this accident. Did you see it or hear it? No, I didn't hear any siren, and I certainly didn't see any red light. Then when's the first time you saw the officer, ma'am? When he hit me. Seemed to come out of nowhere. He was going very fast. You say you were in the process of making a left turn. Is that right, Miss Norton? Did you give a hand signal indicating that you were going to turn? Of course I did. I always do. You touched your car since the accident. What do you mean if I touched it? Well, it was your car just like it was when you were driving it prior to the accident. Yes, I suppose it is. I mean, with the exception of the damage he did. Are you sure you gave a hand signal, Miss Norton? Of course I am. What's this all about anyway? Well, if your car is exactly the way it was before the accident and you're telling us the truth here, how do you account for the fact that the left-hand window of your car is still rolled up here? What? The window of the driver's side of your car there, it's closed tight. You couldn't have made a left-hand signal, could you? I don't understand it. I'm sure I made a signal. I think so anyway. Are you trying to say I'm to blame for that cop's death? We're not trying to say anything, ma'am. We're trying to get the facts here. Well, you certainly have a funny way of doing it. What do you call facts anyway, trying to incriminate me in this thing? I was making a left turn and he ran into me. It's as simple as that. I don't know what you're so excited about. A man just died, Miss Norton. We're trying to find out why. Why ask me? I didn't kill him. Speeding along on a motorcycle like that. He shouldn't have been going that fast anyway. That's his job, ma'am. That's what they pay him for. He was chasing a drunk driver. Right, that's his job. He knew it was dangerous when he took it. Yes, ma'am. Part of his job, that's what we pay him for. Well, he's dead, Miss Norton. Who's going to pay him for that? 2.15 a.m. A traffic car took Corrine Norton downtown to the station where her statement was to be taken and a further investigation made. Frank and I contacted Sergeant Joe Whitehead of the medical detail and informed him of Michael Bryan's death. He told us he'd notify the business office and the parents of the dead officer. Because of our close association with O'Brien, we happened to know that he planned to get married July 15, the first day of his vacation. The girl he was going to marry was an Evelyn Monroe. She lived in the Silver Lake District. We told Whitehead that we'd notify her. 2.30 p.m. Frank and I drove out Sunset Boulevard to the girl's house. Oh, hi, Frank, Joe. How are you? Is Mike with you? Well, no, he isn't, Evelyn. Well, come on in. Have some coffee. I'm just waiting for Mike. All right, thank you. I guess Mike's a little late tonight. Come on in. How do you like your coffee, Cream and Sugar? All right, thanks. Both of us. Look at the dining room table. Pretty nice, isn't it? Yeah, it's very nice. Nice and sweating presence? I think I've ever seen. Didn't know we had so many friends. You see what the boys in the motor squad sent us? Electric mixer. All the attachments, too. Yeah, we see them. Very nice. What's the matter, Joe? Hard day? Yeah, it was. It was a tough one. Oh, you're just like Mike. When he gets off work, he's grumpy as a bear. I don't know why. Nothing tough about your job. You ought to work for the man I work for. Coffee's coming right up. Joe? You're going to have to tell her I can't. Give me a favor. Yeah, I'll try. Here you are. I think you ought to like these donuts. I get them at the bakery down the street. Mike's crazy about them. Would you sit down, Evelyn, please? I'd like to talk to you. Yeah, well, sure, Joe. You sound serious. What's the matter? That's about Mike, Evelyn. Mike? What about him? Well, he wanted us to come by and see you. It was hurt tonight. Oh, no. Was it bad? Yeah, I'm afraid so. What happened? Where is he? Can I see him? No, not now. A little later. What happened? They told his mother and dad? Yeah, Evelyn. Joe Whitehead's out there now. Joe Whitehead, medical detail? Yeah, that's right. He usually doesn't go out right away unless they're dead. Joe? Joe, tell me the truth. What's happened to Mike? What's happened? Well, he's dead, Evelyn. No. It isn't the truth. He can't be dead. I was chasing a drunk driver over on Walsher. A woman turned in front of him. Couldn't get out of the way. Didn't have a chance to lay his bite down. Sorry. It's not true. It can't be. It's not true. He called me at 11. You'll be here any minute. You'll be here any minute. There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do. Crying at help, I'd cry with you. But it's not right. It isn't right. Why should he die? Why should he? He went fast. He didn't suffer. Talked about you. The last thing was about you. Hard to realize. I can't understand it. I can't. There's no reason for it. No reason for a lot of it. Why, Joe? Why did he have to die? Why did he? You've got an idea, maybe, Evelyn. What? Somebody forgot to put out their arm. You have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On October 2nd, an inquest was held at the county morgue, city and county of Los Angeles, state of California. The governor's jury returned to verdict of excusable homicide in the death of motorcycle officer Michael O'Brien. In a moment, a word about another trial. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Fineman. Friends, I know a lot of you listeners have taken my advice and switched to Fatimas. Now, if you haven't, how about comparing Fatimas this weekend for sure? You see, Fatima quality stands out by comparison. That's why I ask you to try Fatimas. Compare them with a king-size cigarette you've been smoking. You'll find Fatimas give you more for your money. Extra mild and soothing smoke. Plus, the added protection of Fatima quality. Remember, king-size Fatimas in the bright, sunny yellow pack. Normally, at this time, we give you the result or outcome of legal proceedings against a person or persons for criminal action. You've already heard the results of the documentary cases portrayed on Dragnet tonight. Fourth of July weekend is at hand. 40 million automobiles will drive 5 billion miles. Please make every mile a safe mile. Be considerate of the other driver on the road and have a happy weekend. We don't want to read your name on Dragnet's trial page. You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files. Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department. Technical advisors Captain Jack Donahoe, Sergeant Marty Wynn, Sergeant Vance Brasher. Heard tonight were Vic Perrin, Stacey Harris, Vic Rodman. Script by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schumann. Hell, give me speaking. Ladies and gentlemen, you may now read Dragnet every day on the comic page of your favorite newspaper. Please consult your local daily paper. King-size Fatima has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles. Yes, adventure is yours tonight with Counter Spy on NBC.