 You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned the homicide details. A small boy is reported missing from his home. He's aged nine years. How play is suspected? Your job? Find him. 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 to an actual case sent to official police fire. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was 30th of December 22nd. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working tonight. Watched out a homicide division. My partner, Frank Smith, the boss of Bad Brown. He didn't catch it. My name's Frank. I was on the way into work, and it was 3.55 PM, and I got to room 42. Homicide. Hi, John. Frank. What's going on? Nothing pretty quiet. How's your mother? My cold's still hanging on. Bad cough. Dr. is never serious though. My kids got the same thing. There's some kind of a virus going around here. Did you get all the reports from that website case yet? Yeah. All taken care of. I get it. Homicide fight. How long has he been going? About two weeks. How do you figure it? The chief detective of Bad Brown. Then we went over to the crime lab, picked up Ray Pinker, and drove out the Arroyo Cico Freeway to Hollis Avenue. It was an average neighborhood. Number 4656 was a one-story green stucco resident situated on the corner of Hollis Avenue in Harrison Drive. Beyond the backyard was a tract of undeveloped land covered with scrubboats. Harry Levinson from Holland Park, Juvenile, was waiting for us in front of the house. Kevin Ray, let me get my bag. Who's the fight you the boy was missing, Harry? The mother said she went down to do some Christmas shopping. About 11 this morning, left the boy at home. Came back about two this afternoon, he was gone. What's the name? Johnstone, a kid's name is Stanley, nine years old. The gate opened like this when you got here? Yeah, we haven't touched a thing. There's things over here, Mr. Pinker. Along the edge of the walk there, you see? Yeah, on the street. Looks like it might be blood. Try some bends, do you know? Yeah, he's in the house, though, he's talking to us. You talking to the neighbors? Yeah, the people next door, the ones on the side, they couldn't tell us anything. These spots are covered with bends with the independent blue. They definitely know that it's human or animal. You have to go back to the lab to see what's true? Yeah, my lab's got a sibling test. Anyone that was brought to my house in a bag, will you? A little bit? Mm-hmm. How soon can you tie some blood for us, Ray? For a sibling test, it won't run more than 20 minutes. It'll take three, four hours to run a blood grouping, though. That's it. Anything else you want to check? Let me see. There he is. Yeah, right here under the tin can. Empty shell. 22, huh? Yeah, I might tie in, might not. Mike has a government envelope, will you? Sure. Got a missing blood cast of a boy here? Yeah, Bill, he did about half an hour ago. Here's a description right here. Thanks. Mother know about the blood stain? No, we didn't tell her. She's worried enough already. She has no idea what might happen to her boy. No more than we do. Check all the friends or others. We're covering the neighborhood. No trace so far. Not much to go on. Blood stains, empty cartridge, it could mean a hundred things. Any ideas, Freddy? 4.30 PM, Thursday, December 22nd. The neighborhood search for nine-year-old Ray Pinker went back to the crime lab to start the precipitant test in the blood grouping. Levinson and his partner, Dorothy, from Highland Juvenile stood by. We called Chief of Detectives Bad Brown and he ordered up a special detail to aid in the search for the missing boy. Frank and I questioned the boy's mother, Mrs. Ruth Johnstone, a woman in the early 40s. She seems fairly calm under the circumstances. Mr. Johnstone, is your boy Stanley in the habit of wandering off without telling you where he's going? No, he's not in the habit of wandering off, but he has done it before. When was the last time, Mrs. Johnstone? You don't have any children, do you, Sergeant Friday? No, ma'am. Well, it comes that time in every young boy's life when he feels that it's time to leave home, go out on his own. Usually happens somewhere around 8 to 10. Yes, ma'am. I think I know what you mean. I'm a boy. And then you know how it is. My husband and I schooled at Stanley when we went out to know him after school. He was quite put out about it. But George and I were in fear, packed a few of his things and left. Well, how long has he gone, ma'am? No time at all, about two hours. I was worried about him, but my husband said to leave him alone, said every boy had to go through that stage. Well, I knew that he's gone away from home again this time, do you? Yes, I think so. He's been gone about four hours now. Now, I have a funny feeling about it. Did you and his father happen to have some misunderstanding with the boy we should leave? That's just it. We haven't. I don't mind telling you now that we're talking about it. I'm getting worried. Any place around that you might like to visit a hobby shop or a playground, something like that, where you might be? Yes, it's Johnson's model shop, little Helen Woods, but I've already called there and he hasn't been seen all day. I've called all of these things. You may have no idea either. We'd like a list of all of his friends and the places that he was known to frequent, ma'am. That's all right. I'll give it to you. Where do you suppose he is? Where's your husband now, Mrs. Johnstown? At work. George works for the city. He's a farmer. Uh-huh. What house has he stationed at? He's working in Company 12. He's working the 8th or 2nd in the home tomorrow morning. I haven't told him that his family's gone. Was there any chance that the boy might be down at the firehouse with his father? No. He's told him those down there and more. No, I don't think he's there. I'm awfully worried. May I call my husband? I'm afraid we need to go out ahead. I know George will be worried. Damn, he's been gone too long. Hello? May I speak with George Johnstown? This is Mrs. Johnstown. Thank you. I hate to call George at his work. Yes, ma'am. Does your husband know me, that man? Yes, he does. What caliber would you know? The 45 automatic. He's got it. George? Well, this is Ruth. George, he's standing down there with you by any chance. Oh, no, I can't find him anywhere. He wasn't here when I came home from during my shopping. There are two policemen here. No, I said there are two policemen here. No, dear, I'll call you if we don't find him soon. Oh, all right. Yes, you too. Bye. I didn't think he'd be with George. Oh, that's 45. Is that the only gun in the household? Yeah. Why are you asking about guns? Is anything happened that you're not telling me about? No, ma'am. That's routine second. We'll have to take a look at that 45 if you don't mind. Maybe I should tell you, we do have another gun in the house, but it's all wrapped up. George got it for Sammy's Christmas present. Do you want to bring a look at it for you? Yes, but you have to unwrap it. I'm afraid so. I think I can read it. You have to hide it. Let me see. Well, here's the paper that was wrapped in. Sammy, where's the phone? It's gone. You see? Here's the gift card. The box that came in. The rifle. OK, look at the box, ma'am. The bottle's down. 22 caliber. December 22, 5.15 p.m. We're getting dark. The search for the missing boy continues. We checked the list of Sammy Johnstone's friends. None of them or their parents had any idea this was whereabouts. We talked with Levinson again. He'd been in touch with a detail combing the neighborhood, but they'd found nothing. We went down to Hollop Avenue on 10th Street, service station on the corner. Do you want a dime, John? No, I got one. What's the key for this? Yeah. He's a great thinker. Yeah, I know. It's human blood. What do you think? We talked with a boy's mother, Mr. Johnstone, found the gun missing. Yeah. The caliber's the same as the amplification. Levinson found 22. He said the gun was missing. Yeah, but Johnstone's going to give it to the boy with the Christmas present. They had it hidden, but it's gone now. Any idea who took it? Well, over it was. We left the Christmas wrapping behind. I think we did with the kid. 22 white ones, nine-year-old boy. What are we going to learn? First, it's caught by kids on the 4th of July. The city should ordinance after ordinance, but a few thousand kids around the country had to lose their eyes, fingers, hands, for the parents to give it to a full cooperation to outlaw them. I know what to mean. Sure you do. You and every other cop in the country became the heavy, trying to clamp down on them. So it was the same story. This time it's done for Christmas. I know what you're thinking, but we're not sure yet. Listen, Friday, there's a city ordinance against giving a gun to a kid. Now, you know that. Yeah, I know that. There's a missing boy and a missing gun. There's blood on the ground and an empty shell. That's enough for me. We're going to say, well, it's safe, so we've got a break. Yeah. I hope it's not the house for that kid's parents. Hi, Steve. I've been looking for you, Friday. See what you got here? Sounded a gun, a new 22 rifle. I'd say it's been fired recently. Where'd you find it? Let me see. Back up there, that scrub rope behind the Johnstone house. Mrs. Johnstone identified it. But we took it down to crime level. Thanks, Harry. Mr. Johnson, OK. But he's sick now. Killaby came up with something else. What's that? There's another one missing. An 8-year-old boy. We talked with Officer Killaby about the other missing boy. He told us that his name was Stephen Martin, 8 years old. His family had just moved into the neighborhood. It seemed that no one, besides the Martin family, knew that the boys played together. Mrs. Martin told us that Stephen told her that he was going out to play and he'd be home by 6 o'clock for dinner. She told us that he was an unusually prompt boy and almost never overstayed his playtime. We got a description of the Martin boy and put out a missing broadcast. We called the Johnstone family doctor. She told us that family's blood was typho. At 7 PM, we talked again with Mrs. John Martin. Are you sure Mrs. Johnson doesn't know where the boys are? She has no idea, Mrs. Martin. Oh, this is terrible. This is awful. I feel there's more to this thing, something you're not telling me. There's no need to upset you until we know a few more things for sure, man. And you are holding something back. Well, please try not to worry, Mrs. Martin. There are certain questions we have to ask, routine questions, and any kind of investigation. Is there anything else you want to know? Yes, ma'am. What's your boy's blood type? Funny question. Do you think anything's happened to him? Have you found him and you're not telling me? No, ma'am. We haven't found him. And we don't think anything's happened to him. He's both typho. Yes, ma'am. Well, I think I have it written down in Stevie's baby book. Yes. Yes, here he is. The type is old. Typho, thank you. What if I use your phone? Oh, yes, of course. It's in the hall. Be right back, thank you. Yeah. The authentic story of your police force in action. The modern way to sell cigarettes is the Chesterfield way, both regular and king-sized. And we're the only one that does it. We tell you what Chesterfield are made of to give you premium quality in both popular sizes. Our scientists select the best materials. They select for Chesterfield the world's best tobaccos. Blend them just right. And they keep Chesterfield tasty and fresh with the best of moistening agents. Now, here's something else that's completely modern about Chesterfield. People smoke. 8 p.m. Thursday, December 22nd. Still no sign of either of the missing boys. Chief of Detective Thad Brown went back to headquarters to direct the search from there. He dispatched another detail of 50 men to aid in the hunt for the missing youngsters. 8 p.m. was getting colder. The Chester scrollers were warned to expect a freeze. We went back up the block to see Mrs. Johnstone. Her husband had quit work early and returned home. We talked with him. He could tell us nothing more than we already knew. We still had not informed either of the families about the blood stains and the empty cartridge casing which had been discovered in the backyard of the Johnstone home. It was more than possible if they had a right to know about our findings, but Frank and I felt there was no cause to add to their distress at this particular time. If the two missing boys were found alive and well, then the blood stains and the cartridge would be of no concern to the relief panel. At 8 p.m., Frank and I left the Johnstone house and went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. John Martin. Mrs. Martin, you said your husband worked at the market. Yes. He telephone about 15 minutes ago and said he was closing up right away. He'd be there any minute. I do wish that he would call or come home. It's so cold out tonight. All he had on was a thin cotton jacket. We're trying not to worry. We're doing everything we can. He'll be all right. Steve, his father's such a sensitive man. You know, the boy is so close. I know he's terribly upset. Yes, ma'am. Are you sure there's no place you might have forgotten some place where the boy might be? No. No place. No. If anything's happened to the boy, he'll just kill John. Mrs. Martin. Yes. He's still not getting it. Thank you. Yeah, Harry. Johnstone case has been found. He's home, Sergeant. He's come home. Thank God he's all right. When was he dead? Did he tell you? No. No, he didn't. His clothes are all dirty. He was acting strange. I've never seen him like this. How do you mean, Mrs. Johnstone? He just came in the front door and said, hello, ma'am. And then he sat down on a chair and stared at the floor. He talked to his father, didn't he? Do you mind if I talk to him? No. Go ahead. I asked you about the little Martin boy. He wouldn't tell me a thing. What is he now? Right over there in the living room. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Son. Son, this is a police officer. He wants to talk to you. Don't be afraid, dear. He only wants to ask you some questions. Son, you see Sergeant? Yes, ma'am. Come on, boy, look at me. Come on, you have to get your head out. No, that's better. He has your mother pretty worried, you know that? You want to tell her where you're at? I wish you'd try to get him to eat a little something. You hear that, son? You want something to eat? There's another little boy up the street who hasn't come home. Do you know where he is? His father and mother are worried about him, too. Just like your folks were. He's got to help us find him, son. I killed him. I killed him. We're the 22. We're only 10, but I killed him. How do you know you're killing him? Maybe he's only her acknowledgement? No, he's dead. I'm really dead. The gun went off. We forgot we put bullets in it. Where is he, Stanley? I didn't. I was scared. I didn't want anybody to find him. Where did you hide him, son? In a cave. I'm just... I didn't mean it. I went myself out. Do you want to show us where, Stanley? Yes, sir. I'll show you. 9.15 p.m., Thursday, December 22nd. 9-year-old Stanley Johnstone led the way up the hill behind the backyard of his home. He showed us the wagon he moved the body in. His father came along with us. About 50 feet from the crest of the hill, a boy pointed to a second of scrub rope. There we found a small cave holding the body of Stephen Martin. There was a single bullet wound in his chest just below his heart. He was dead. We covered the body. Stanley, how did it happen? Well, one of the folks had been giving me a bunch of pictures. He moved that wagon and got it. There was a box of books with it. Were you pointing again at Stephen's son? No, sir. Not no, sir, I wasn't. It was the first time he played with it. I was chasing him. He tripped over that stump there in his cell. The gun would have made me jump and run off. Why do you think he killed him if you're telling us the truth here? He can't have the truth. I'm his sister's truth. All right, I believe you, son. Why do you think you killed him? My gun. He didn't allow me to go get it. I did a little bit of Christmas. It's all my fault. Where have you been? In the cave. What were you doing in there, son? I was training. Bring the gun and I'll give it away again. In the investigation, Frank and I were convinced that the shooting of Stephen Martin was an actual battle. Ray Pinker's findings substantiated the Johnstone boy's story even to the smallest detail. We put in a call to the coroner's office and acquainted him with the fact. He designated a local mortuary to handle the body pending autopsy and granted his permission to remove the body to the Martin home. Mrs. Martin collapsed. The family doctor was called. Frank and I sat in the living room to wait for John Martin, the dead boy's father. Where are you, Jesus? Where's my wife? Did my boy come home? Have you found him? I want to see him. Because there's three new cars for the train? No one with a switch like him could really work, son. I can't just... Emily Johnstone was an accident. No idea what the dead boy's father had in mind. We didn't feel that we should try to restrain him. We went along with him up the street to the Johnstone Hall. Place your board. It's right here. We want you to come in. I think that'd be a fine idea, son. On December 24th, the coroner's inquest was held in the county morgue, the county of Los Angeles, state of California. In a moment, the results of that inquest. The coroner's inquest, it was officially recorded that Stephen Martin's death was the result of an accident. Stanley Johnstone was absolved of any legal responsibility for his friend's death. 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 Winn, Sergeant Vance Brasich. Tonight for Van Alexander, William Johnstone, Fanny Ogg. Script by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schumann. Hal Gipney speaking.