 Fatima, best of all, king-sized cigarettes brings you dragnet. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned the homicide detail. A 30-year-old woman is missing. Three months pass before a disappearance is reported. There's not a trace of the woman. No lead to her whereabouts. Your job? Finder. In Fatima, the difference is quality. That's right. Fatimas are different. They taste better. Yet king-sized Fatima costs no more than the cigarette you are now smoking. And because of its quality, more smokers are now insisting on Fatima than ever before. You see, Fatima contains the finest domestic and Turkish tobacco, superbly blended. And Fatima is extra mild, with a much different, much better flavor and aroma. So compare Fatima yourself today. You will find Fatima gives you all the advantages of extra length, plus Fatima quality, which no other king-sized cigarette has. Remember, the cost of Fatima is the same as the cigarette you're now smoking. But in Fatima, the difference is quality. Next time, buy Fatima. Best of all, king-sized cigarettes. 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 Monday, June 9th. It was warm in Los Angeles. We were working the day to watch out a homicide detail. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is that brown chief of detectives. My name's Friday. I was on the way back from the stats office, and it was 10, 18 a.m. when I got to room 42. Homicide. How are you, Joe? Been waiting for you. Hi. Ma'am, I'd like to have you meet my partner, Sergeant Friday. Joe, this is Miss Daly, Ruth Daly. How are you doing? Oh, yes. Daly came in to file a missing report on her sister, Joe. She already talked to missing persons, and they sent her in to CES. Oh, I have a chair, ma'am. Thank you. Well, what's it all about, Miss? I just started to tell Sergeant Romero... That's Romero, ma'am. Oh, I'm sorry. Romero. Well, it's about my sister Bernice, Sergeant. She's missing. I wondered if maybe your people could help me find her. Well, what's your sister's name? Bernice. I guess you'll want a married name, Mrs. James Butler. Her description will be just about the way I look. Bernice, now our twin. When's your sister disappear, ma'am? In March. The first weekend in March. She disappeared on a Saturday. Well, that's three months ago, Miss Daly. How is it this was reported sooner? Well, as a matter of fact, I halfway expected her husband to report it. I talked to him about it when Bernice was gone two weeks. She didn't seem too worried. Is there any reason for him not to worry? Well, there isn't a way. You see, Bernice has gone off before, about a year ago. She picked up and went to Arizona without telling anybody. When she came back, she said she just wanted to get away for a while. She didn't want to be around here. Well, how long does she stay away that time? Almost a month. Well, how about your sister's married life? She'd get along with her husband all right. Well, first five years they were married. It worked all right. Then it sort of turned sour. I don't know what happened. They used to be happy. What was the trouble? Do you know? That's the funny part. I don't. Wouldn't even know who to blame for it. Jimmy or Bernice. Both of them started drinking a lot, pretty heavy. Seeing them around that time, Jimmy began to get a little funny. Oh, see. Has he ever been violent towards your sister, Miss Daly? I mean, has he struck her or anything like that? Oh, no. Really, Jimmy's kind of a milk toast character, timid, skinny. Most of the time afraid to say boo. Yesterday, I went over to the house to visit Jimmy. I tried to make conversation. He just sat in his chair, reading a book. Every time I'd mention Bernice, he'd kind of look up and growl at me. I got sick of it. I put on my coat and started for the door. He followed me. You say anything at all? Yes. When I opened the door, I turned around and said goodbye. He had this real horrible look on his face. He said it right out loud on his day. What's that? He said, you'd be surprised if I killed her, wouldn't you? You'd be surprised. 10.40 a.m., we finished taking a complete statement from Ruth Daly regarding the disappearance of her married sister, Bernice Butler. Before she left, we got the business address of her brother-in-law. A broadcast and a missing bulletin was gotten out and then Ben and I drove cross town to have a talk with a husband of the missing woman, James Butler. But he located them at work in a job printing shop on South Vermont, where he was employed as a journeyman printer. He was in his early 30s, thin, blond hair, light complexion, about 5'7", 125 pounds. He wore a pair of rimless glasses. Ben and I introduced ourselves and began to interview him. He was close-mouthed and not too cooperative. Seemed to resent every question we asked him. While we talked, he worked over a paper cutting machine. You'll have to admit it's a little out of the ordinary, Mr. Butler. Your wife's missing three months and you acting like she's been going three hours. Did you hear me, Butler? I heard you. Well, what about it? Just a minute. Oh, you know, it's not ordinary her going away. I'm married to her, I don't know my own wife. We talked to your wife's sister this morning, Ruth Daly. She seems to think you might know all about your wife disappearing. She does? That's right. In my way, I got to get that other set of cards. Oh, yeah. What do you think? I don't know. There's something wrong with him. She'll get a big grudge for somebody here, sir. What do you know about that good old man, what she called him? Brashville. Yeah, and buddy's Brashville is a wild boar in a plum thick. In my way, I got to get in there. Yeah, go ahead. I haven't got any spare time to talk. I have to get this order out. I only take a few minutes. If you'll be good enough, go operate. I haven't got the time, that's all. It's almost your lunch hour. Is this supposed to talk to him? Got no time then either. Why don't you talk to Ruth? She seems to know. Now listen, that's about enough of this, mister. We ask you civil questions, we expect civil answers. If you think this isn't important, change your mind. Your wife's been gone for three months, nobody's seen or heard from her, and it's our job to check it. Now you can talk to us here or downtown, you take your pick. I have to finish up this batch first. We can talk out in the alley and back. I want everybody to know in my bed. That's fine with us, you do what you have to do, we'll wait for you. Who is Akin going to argue now? Yeah, well, what his big trouble is. Maybe a hangover. Looks a little used up. That could be... He had something to do with his wife's disappearing, you think you try to cover. What he's acting, doesn't seem to care what we think. Well, let's see what kind of a story he's got. Okay, it's this way out back. Then go ahead. Yeah, what's the big deal? Have you ever been arrested, Butler? No. Almost a couple of times, I couldn't get. What kind of trouble were you in? I said they didn't get me, I'm not going to put myself in hot water. They'd like to find out how your wife was before she disappeared. Do you know of any reason why she'd go off the way she did, any reason why she'd stay away three months without any word? No, I don't know any reason. Now, how about your relatives, your friends? You check to see if she might be with one of them? They'd call if she was. You never check with them? No, I think Ruth did. You have any big arguments with your wife, Butler? A lot of times she disappeared, I mean? We had them all the time. She bothered me. She was too fresh. I beat it out of her. That's all. You got to give them a little freedom they think you can take over. Now I can tell you what to do, what not to do. I'm sick of it. We'd like a straight answer here, Butler. Did you want your wife out of the way? What do you mean by that? I mean, do you know why she's missing? Could be a lot of reasons. Might know one. Did you kill your wife, Butler? It'd be silly to tell you that, wouldn't it? Yeah. Did you kill her? I mean, one way I'll say yes to that. Yeah? Well, you prove it. Well, it wasn't easy to understand. From the way it started, our interview with James Butler would get us nothing. We had no evidence against him. Nothing to indicate definitely that his wife had met foul play. Nothing but a suspicious remark he was supposed to have made to his sister-in-law, Ruth Daley. But once we'd left the print shop and got out in the back alley where he couldn't be overheard, he was full of information. Besides telling us that he beat his wife, Butler also admitted that he'd threatened her life on several occasions, twice in the presence of friends. He seemed to take some kind of a peculiar pride in admitting how violent he'd been with his life. Ben and I took him downtown, questioned him further, and listened to him talk. He made veiled hints that he'd been involved in various criminal activities in this country and also in Europe. That he was a close friend with a half a dozen notorious underworld gang leaders. That he was ruthless and clever enough to dispose of his life if he wanted to and still avoid prosecution. While we were talking, Ben had James Butler's name and description double checked through the record bureau files. There was no previous criminal record listed for him. As far as we knew at no time, had he even been held under suspicion in a criminal investigation. The next day, together with Brian and Lopez from Homicide, Ben and I made the rounds of Mr. and Ms. Butler's friends, relatives, and neighbors. 4.25 p.m. We got back to the office. Oh, hi, Loping. Hi, Ben, Joe. What's doing? Nothing great. How'd you two make out? It's a funny setup to me. I'd say the guys are phony. Everybody we talk to, everybody who knows Butler, they all say the same thing. What's that? I was afraid of his own shadow. It's a milk toast. Nothing to it. What'd you get? I don't know about the scene. Every housewife around the neighborhood out where they live, they all told us the same thing. The guys are him-packed husband. His wife laid down the laws and he follows them. Psycho case, sir. Must be. I don't know how else to explain. Every time I ask one of their friends if Butler beat up his wife, they laugh in my face. So he wouldn't even dare to cash his check on payday. He had to bring it home. If anybody got beat up, it must have been him. Yeah. It sure tells a great story. He can make you believe he was a blue beard. Do you get any different answers to all of them? Yeah, one, maybe. You know, let me take a look. Yeah, let's see. Yeah, here. Mrs. Irene Brady. She's an Anna Mrs. Butler. Uh-huh. She said the same thing about Butler, about him being a real mouse and all. And she told us about the busy things he'd been doing the last couple of years. Yeah, what was that? Four or five times, she said he just went out looking for trouble. Go in a neighborhood bar and sell some big stevedore to get his face pushed in. He always picked big guys. Didn't seem to mind getting beat up as long as you could insult him. Not much doubt, I guess. The guy is ready for the net farm. Well, apparently he's got a big beef with people who push him around. Maybe he figured if he could take care of just one of those people, he could even up the score. How do you mean, Joe? Well, Mrs. Butler, the wife, she's probably the one who gave him the worst time. She's a little bit off mentally. That'd make him capable of murdering. Couldn't be, yeah. Maybe the wife poured it on real strong, drove him to it. Crazy as a coot, that guy. Too many movies, mystery books. All right, got it. I'm aside from Meryl. Oh, yes, ma'am. How's that? Oh, when was that? Yes, ma'am. Yes, as soon as we can. All right. That doesn't... What's up? That was his sister-in-law, Ruth. David just told me she's positive Butler murdered his wife. You will make sure things show. Number one, she says Butler told her so. He admitted it to her last night. Well, it doesn't hold any more water than the rest of his stories. I don't know. The only girl says she's positive. She's got the evidence to prove it. What's that? A murder weapon, blood stains all over it. 4.45 p.m. Ben and I got in the car and drove out to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Butler, where we found the missing woman's sister waiting for us on the front stairs. She told us she'd been doing some kind of checking of her own through the house that afternoon. In going over the attic, she said she'd found a claw hammer hidden under a loose board in the attic floor. She said the hammer was covered with what appeared to be dry blood stains. She took us inside up the stairs to the attic. Careful of the steps, officers. It's an old house getting ready to fall apart. What's the step here, Jill? Yeah, I'm all right. Go ahead. Light's good and bright. That's how I happen to see a loose board. It's over here. Did you pick up the hammer, Miss Daly? No. I started to, but then I remembered about fingerprints and things. Just where I found it. Didn't touch it. And you want a pencil, Jill? Maybe you can get a claw there. No, I think we can see it right where it is. Let's see. Good be, huh? Blood stain? Well, it sure looks like it. From the handle here all over the head of the hammer. I knew it. I knew there was something wrong the day she disappeared. Hey, look at this, Jill. I just noticed. These stains on the floor. Old clear leaven, see? Made right for the door. We better get the crime lab on and have Lee Jones run the benzidine test on him. What time does he usually get home from work, Miss Daly or by the door? About six o'clock. Don't know about today, though. How do you mean? Is your work late on Tuesday? No, but I wanted to make sure he wouldn't be home when I came over today. I called the print shop where he works. He's not there. Called again this afternoon. Jimmy hasn't been seen since last night. Is he in the habit of skipping work? No, he never does. I called every one of his friends. I know of Bernice's friends, too. I called them. The places he hangs around, nobody's seen him. Not since last night since you talked to him. You got no idea where he might be? No, just like Bernice. He disappeared. You're in the statistician's office of a Metropolitan Police Department. Have you made the run on this one? WMA, five foot seven, hundred and sixty pounds. Suspect is left-handed, operates on foot. We punched up the mast of the car in the machine. We'll make the run now. Okay, fine. There are many suspects to choose from. You're looking for one. Thank you. This is the one we want. When you have a choice to make, you want to be sure. And you can be sure of Fatima quality. That's why we ask you to compare Fatima with any other king-sized cigarette. Side by side, Fatimas are the same in length and circumference. 85 millimeters long, one and one-sixty-fourths inches around. And Fatima filters the smoke exactly the same long distance as other king-sized cigarettes. But in Fatima, the difference is quality. Fatima gives you extra mildness. A much different, much better flavor and aroma. Remember, Fatima gives long cigarette smokers all the advantages of extra length, plus Fatima quality, which no other king-sized cigarette has. Next time, insist on the best. Why Fatima? Best of all, king-sized cigarettes. Tuesday, June 10th, 5.20 p.m. Ben got on the phone and called around town to check further on the whereabouts of James Butler, the husband of the missing woman. No luck. We called the office and they got out of broadcast and an APB on Butler. We drove downtown to the crime lab, gave him the claw hammer that we found on the Butler's attic and asked him to run a benzidine test on the stains. We'd also made arrangements for Lee Jones to run similar tests on the stains we found on the floor of the attic. Three days passed. Butler was gone. There was no sign of him. The search was intensified. Another three days went by. Monday, June 16th, we got an answer on the APB. A phone call from the chief of police in Salaria, California. Yeah, chief. What'd he do? James Butler was returned to Los Angeles where he underwent further interrogation in addition to a psychiatric test. The test showed that he was definitely abnormal but he was still judge mentally competent. The crime lab's tests on the blood stains found on the hammer and on the floor of the attic in the Butler's home revealed that the stains were made by animal blood, not human. We questioned Butler about it but we failed to get him to even admit he knew anything about the stains. He was released from custody but he was kept under surveillance. A week passed. Two weeks. Nothing developed. Still no sign of a missing woman, Bernice Butler. Still no definite sign of foul play in connection with her disappearance. No definite sign that her husband was criminally involved in any way. Considering all the angles of the case, we were still inclined to figure that he fitted in somewhere. He had some direct hand in his wife's disappearance. We stayed on it. Nothing happened. On June 26th, the twin sister of the missing woman Ruth Daley met Ben and I at the office and laid out a plan she had in mind. She insisted we try it. You mean you want to work on his emotional nature and try to get some kind of an admission out of him? Is that the whole idea? That's it, Sergeant. I know what a nut he is about being dramatic. I know it'll work. That's possible, yeah. How do you figure to set it up? It won't be very hard. For one thing, you know my sister Bernice and I look quite a bit alike. People always take us for one another. Yeah. You can get Jimmy out of the house at night for some reason or other. I'll slip in and go upstairs and put on one of the dresses Bernice used to wear all the time. Mm-hmm. I'll sit there in the upstairs bedroom with just the whole light on. Just enough light so we can see me when you bring him upstairs. I'll even bring over Bernice's pet cat she had. Siamese. He always hated the cat. I don't know, ma'am. I'm not quite sure about it. It might be worth a chance. It's not too orthodox, but maybe it'll work. If I know Jimmy, it'll work, Sergeant. If you can just warm him up to it ahead of time before you bring him upstairs. When he sees me sitting in that room with a cat, I know he'll think it's Bernice. We're bound to get some kind of reaction. That's better than we're doing. Yeah, Ben, what do you think? Sounds like a movie script. I don't know. It's like she says, I guess. We're bound to get a reaction. I know it'll work. I'm sure of it. You know? All right, let's give it a try. The following night, a few minutes before 8 o'clock, Ben and I got James Butler away from his house on the pretext of taking him downtown for further interrogation. We delayed long enough to make sure that Ruth Daly, the sister of the missing woman, had plenty of time to get into the house, change her clothes, and take her place in the upstairs room with her sister's cat, Simon's cat. Then we started back for the house. We'd made arrangements to have Brian and Lopez from homicide standing by concealed in the immediate vicinity of the house in case they were needed. 11.05 p.m. While we drove him back toward his home, Butler was talkative, but not too relaxed. It was the same line we'd heard before, how tough he could be when he wanted to, the same hints that he was an undiscovered killer, one of the more talented professionals in the deadly circles of the underworld. I came from Illinois originally, Cicero. You guys know how it is back there. You have to stay right up on your toes. Yeah, how long you been out here now, Butler? You expect me to tell you that? I'm right the way you guys work. You're not gonna get me on questions like that one. I understand you do quite a bit of reading, Jim. You come across a little good lately? No, nothing lightly. All the good books they've already been written. Edgar Allen, Poe, Stevenson, Demopus, on Gogo. They know how to tell a good murder story. These new guys are a waste of time. Rating, that's all. Rating, that's what I like to do. Not that modern junk, only the best. You take some of Poe and Stevenson, for instance. I know those guys. Yeah, sir. Sure, I know their stuff well enough to tell you. I got whole pages memorized. How'd you like to hear some? Stevenson made it. All right, go ahead. I have to belie my nature. All men do. All men are better than this disguise that grows about and stifles. You see, each dragged away by life like one whom bravos have seized and muffled in a cloak. If they had their own control, if you could see their faces, they would be altogether different. They would shine out for heroes and for saints. I am worse than most. Myself is more overlaid. My excuse is known to me and to God. But had I the time, I could disclose myself. That's out of Stevenson, you know. Pretty smart fellow, huh? Yeah, sure. You got a pretty good memory. I read those books all the time. Nothing better. Is the house all right? Yeah, it's all right. Well, maybe I'll see you later, huh? Thanks for the ride. Bartelli, we'd like to come in the house with you, if you don't mind, Butler. One or two things you'd like to check over. That's all right with you. All right, sure. Guess you ought to know by this time, huh? Nothing I'd hide in that house that you'd ever want to find. Come on, let's go. It's so dark out in there. A little bit chilly. Yeah. What do you want to check over in the house? Always one or two things. Just routine, Jim. We won't keep you low. Guess I ought to be a little burnt, that you've got to find out, huh? Getting all this rousing. How about laying off pretty soon? Maybe I am getting a little burnt. If you can prove something on old Jimmy, Butler, prove it. If you can't do it, let him along. We're just tying up a few loose ends here, Jim. There's nothing to get excited about. What's the matter? You got your front door key? I got it. My business, you learn not to forget anything. Can't afford to forget. Quite a big place you got, Butler. You stay here all by yourself. That's the way I like it by myself. If you want to look at anything, you can look now. When you're through, I got some bourbon in the cellar. I keep a big booze cellar, you know. All first-rate stuff. What's the matter? Oh, nothing, Jim. Thought I heard a cat selling place, did you? No cats in this house. What do you mean you heard a cat? I hate the lousy things. I wouldn't have one. Don't you tell us once your wife had a cat? I think it was you. You didn't like it much, did you? Kill the lousy thing. Got an axe and killed it. Them wife of mine used to drive me crazy with a cat hair all over the place. You know how it is. Got an axe and killed it. Yeah. And there it is. I thought I heard it. Because you got another one, huh, Butler? Get rid of that thing. I'll find him and get rid of him right now. Upstairs. I suppose the house makes you think of your wife quite a bit, doesn't it, Jim? What? Well, I mean, you spent so much time in it together, you and Bernice. It's got quite a few memories for you, I guess, huh? Find that thing if it takes all night. I'll get the axe and I'll find the thing. It's up here, all right? Maybe down the hall there. Bernice's room. She had the cat. What's it doing here? There's no reason for it. Could have wandered back in. Can't we get more light in this hallway? I can't see anything. Cat could be anywhere. What's it doing here alone? The cat was always with Bernice. Never left. Sounds to me like it's just around here. Maybe through that door there, you think? It's Bernice's room. That killer lousy cat, he couldn't be in there. Oh, might be it's just a cat out in the street. You know, on the side alley, maybe, huh? Probably not even in the house. Take a look in the room here. Fine, ain't real. She's not there. She's not there. Don't hurt the cat. Not the poor cat, Jimmy. Don't kill him, not both of us. Don't kill the cat, please. Don't kill two of us. You go away. You go away. You're not there. It's a fake. You're not there, Bernice. Please, Jimmy. Not both of us. Don't kill both of us. There's some kind of a trick there. You go away, Bernice. Your dad and I killed you. You're downstairs. You're in the ground. You're deep in the ground. I killed you. You can't be sitting here. Please, Jimmy. Please. All right, brother. Come here. No. Get away. You get away from me. She's downstairs. She's in the ground. I'll show you. You can't trick me. I'll show you. Come on, Ben. Come on, Ben. I can't. I can't. Dear God. Come on, Ben. Downstairs. Yeah. I tried to grab him. I tried to. He broke away. Lopez. Lopey. Here, Joe. See it, Lopey. Yeah. Good drop from the window. He can't pass. Yeah. That's too pretty, huh? Oh, man. Must be something, huh? How about getting a doctor? Yeah. He lost doctors when he hit that sidewalk. Only one thing left I know. Yeah. Called a priest. In his suicide leap from the top story of his house, James Butler died instantly on the pavement below. Afterwards, when the reports were made out in the deputy corner removed the body, a special detail of men was sent out to help probe the grounds around the Butler home and also the ground directly beneath the house. The search was thorough. The ground was dug up foot by foot. We found nothing. Butler's last admission before his death that he killed his wife and buried her in the grounds adjoining the house seemed to be as empty and worthless as some of the other stories that he told us. The painstaking search for the body of James Butler's wife went on. We found nothing. Alive or dead, there was still no trace of her. Butler's friends and relatives held a modest funeral form and he was buried in a small cemetery south of the city. In missing persons bureau, there were still no leads on the case of Bernice Butler. It was still open. Summer finally got to an end. The fall season came and went. And then Christmas and the holidays and then back into January and February. On a rainy morning early in March, almost a year to the very day when the case started, we got a communication from San Francisco. It had come to the notice of the police through the county health department. In regard to your APB of June so-and-so last year, this is to inform you that Mrs. Bernice Butler has been a patient in the Tuberculosis of the Ward County Hospital San Francisco since June 16th of last year. Apparently, her case was considered critical from the day she was admitted to the hospital. Last Thursday, she succumbed to the illness. Identification was established next to kin notified, but no one claimed her body. She was buried at county expense. I trust this may aid you in establishing facts pertinent to her disappearance or... Well, how about that? Well, it doesn't figure, does it? Sooner or later, you get them all. How would you figure out that night we had brother at the house? I mean, we had his sister-in-law in there and he thought he saw his wife. Oh, who knows? I suppose he really had himself talked into when he thought he committed a 100% murder. Yes, he thought about it long enough so he convinced himself. Must have worked out something like that inside his mind. Nightingale lived right through it. Figured he really killed her. When it came to the punishment, he's ready to buy that. There wasn't any way out, so he jumped. Well, mixed up kind of ghetto. Fine, it's too bad. All things considered, I guess he loved her quite a bit. Well, doesn't seem to matter now. What he did wasn't much of a chance either way. How do you mean? Well, a girl, T, beyond one side, may be murdered on the other side. Either way, she had to die. The story you've just heard was true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. On March 9th, the meeting was held in the office of Captain of Homicide, Police Department, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California. In a moment, the results of that meeting. And now here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you. Friends, we've spent about two of the past 30 minutes telling you why so many smokers coast to coast have switched to King-sized Fatima. And they really have. Just listen to some of these brand new sales figures. I'll give you a few of them state by state, alphabetically just as they're listed here. Fatima sales up 92%, up 72%, up 107%, up 192%, up 69%. And so it goes up and up. Thousands and thousands of King-sized cigarette smokers are changing to Fatima. And there's a reason. Fatimas cost no more than the cigarette you're now smoking. They filter the smoke exactly the same long distance as other King-sized cigarettes. Yet there's a big difference. Fatima quality, which no other King-sized cigarette has. Buy them tomorrow in the golden yellow package. Fatima, best of all King-sized cigarettes. After locating Mrs. Bernice Butler in the Tuberculosis Ward in San Francisco County Hospital, final disposition was made of her case. Her late husband, James Butler, was cleared of any connection with her disappearance. Mr. 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. Fatima, best of all King-sized cigarettes has brought you Dragnet transcribed from Los Angeles. Stay tuned for Counter-Spike, next on NBC.