 Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima cigarettes, king size, extra mild and soothing, brings you dragnet on both radio and television. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a homicide division. You get a call that the body of a dead man has been found in a vacant lot. But the man has been beaten to death. Your job, investigate. Friends, the name Fatima has always stood for quality. Fatimas are distinctive, with a truly different flavor and aroma. And in king size Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke. Plus, the added protection of Fatima quality. Remember, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Because of its quality, its extra mildness, its better flavor and aroma, Fatima continues to grow in favor among king size cigarette smokers everywhere. Switch to Fatima yourself today. Ask your dealer for Fatima in the bright sunny yellow pack. King size Fatima. The difference is quality. 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 Wednesday, February 6th. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out a homicide division. My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Warman. My name's Friday. It was 10.14 a.m. when I got to room 42, homicide. Frank? Didn't hear Joe. Right. Hi. Good morning, Skipper. Joe, Smith says you ran into a bad one out there in Fountain. Yeah, we did. Must have been quite a fight out there. The victims' clothes were pretty well torn up. The ground around the body was all tramples. I wonder if we could tell that much. How do you mean? Well, the body was found by a couple of schoolgirls, the vacant lot out there near Fountain and Selma. Girls took a shortcut through the lot. When they saw the body, they let out enough screams to get the whole neighborhood over there. Mother put on the call. The time the radio unit got there, the neighbors had walked over the whole area. They got the people back right away, but most of the physical evidence that there was ain't been trampled out. That helps. Any of those people see or hear anything? No, nothing. How was he killed? We found a big piece of concrete near the body, blood stains on it. The crime lab's checking it now. Did they find anything else? No, they're still checking the scene. Lee's gonna call. The crowd made such a mess out of place. A lot of houses around there. Somebody must have heard something. Well, we talked to a young girl, lives a couple of doors down from the lot. Seems she and her boyfriend were coming home from a show. Said about 9.45, 10 o'clock. They noticed a car parked in front of the lot. The girl said they noticed right away. Afraid it might be some guys out to cause trouble. She told us that when she and her boyfriend walked by, they heard loud talking men arguing. She able to describe the car? She just said it was a dark sedan, late model, 51 to 52. We checked the boyfriend. He told about the same story. He said he thought the car was a dark blue Ford. Well, anyway, the girl said she got scared. Went right into the house. A few minutes later, they heard a car tear by. They looked up the street and the parked car was gone. This was around 10 o'clock. Yeah, that's right. That might make it about the time of the killing. Well, we're no better when the body's posted. The girl or her boyfriend able to describe the men? No subscript. All they could tell us was it looked like there were two men in the car. Said they couldn't get a good look at them. The license number? No. The boy said he thought of taking it down, but he didn't. Tough break. Hanson and Cummings helped check the neighborhood. They didn't do any better. Seems like everybody in the vicinity was away for the evening. Oh, McCorn or Frank? Well, Hanson just brought this in. Guys with all the stuff in his pocket. Let's take a look. Driver's license. Name's John Allen Iverson. Address? Spin scratch? No, here it is. In the back. That had changed. 6295 North Serrano Avenue. Height 59. Born on October 2nd, 23. Make it 28, huh? Yeah, that's right. 836. Five days. I'm brown hair. What else is in here? Caller from an oil company. Blank check. A picture of a puppy in Dalmatian, huh? Well, it looks like it in a picture of a woman. Let's see that. Here, wait a minute. Here's a card. Case of accident, please notify Mrs. Alfred Iverson. Mother, 6295 Serrano Avenue, Hollywood 98844. Probably her picture. She didn't notify yet? No, not yet. Cheese, comb, nail polish, cigarette, a couple of slugs. Good for one play. Match holder. Let me see that, huh? George's pool and snooker, Burbank Boulevard. Yeah. Found $13.42 in his pocket. He was wearing a wrist watch, too. You know, the watch looked new. It was expensive. Money in the watch, still there. It doesn't look like robbery. No, not much. Seems a thief would have taken them anyway. Any ideas on a motive? It's hard to say, Skipper. Could be almost anything. Not much to go on, lousy thing. And it's not getting any better. Yeah. We got to tell his mother now. 10.50 a.m. We call Lee Jones to see if he'd been able to come up with any new information. He told us that besides the piece of cement, his crew had been able to find little other physical evidence. Tests of the blood found on the concrete were not finished, but Lee said that it looked like the murder weapon. Although the ground around the body was fairly soft, the people in the neighborhood effectively obliterated any footprints that the killer might have left. We were faced with the old problem. The average citizen in an attempt to be helpful had unknowingly destroyed what physical evidence we might have found. We went by R&I and checked the name John Allen Iverson without result. 11.35 a.m. Frank and I signed out and drove to the address listed on Iverson's driver's license. 6295 North Serrano Avenue. It was a small frame cottage set well back on the lot. The yard was well kept and as we climbed the front stairs, we could hear a dog barking in the rear of the house. We rang the bell and the lady in her middle 60s answered the door. It was the woman in the picture that we'd found in Iverson's wallet. Yes. Ms. Iverson. Yes. Police officers, ma'am, like talk to you if we could. Well, of course. Won't you come in? Thank you very much. You'll have to excuse the way I look. I was in the middle of baking. Thank you. Well, as you wanted, officer. I'm sorry I don't remember your name. Joe Friday, ma'am, this is my partner, Frank Smith. How do? Is it about the dog barking at night? We've tried to keep him quiet, alarm clocks, hot water bottles, everything. He's just a puppy, though, officers. He doesn't know. No, ma'am. It's not about the dog. It's about your boy. John? What's he done? Well, he's had an accident, Ms. Iverson. An accident? John? Yes, ma'am. Serious? Yes, ma'am. It's pretty serious. You're sure it's my boy, John Allen Iverson? Yes, ma'am. It's your boy. He's in a hospital. Is that it? No, ma'am. He's not in a hospital. Not in a hospital? He's dead? Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. John? John Allen Iverson? You're sure? Yes, ma'am. We're sure. Oh, no. It can't be. How will it be? John, my baby, you've got to be wrong. No, I'm sorry, ma'am. John, John, dad, go away from me for always. Why does it have to be John? It's always the same question, isn't it? Yeah. How do you answer it? Frank put in a call to Mrs. Iverson's doctor. Five minutes later, he arrived and gave her a sedative. We asked if we could talk to her and he told us that it'd be alright if we kept the questioning brief. He explained that Mr. Iverson, John's father, had died two years before and that his passing had hit Mrs. Iverson pretty hard. He said that it'd be a few minutes before the sedative took full effect and that we might talk to the woman until then. Frank and I walked into the bedroom. I hope you'll forgive me for crying. Yes, ma'am. We understand Mrs. Iverson. There are a few questions we'd like to ask you. How did it happen? Auto accident? No, ma'am. He was murdered. Murdered? Why? Who did it? Have you caught him yet? No, no, check, ma'am. That's why we need your help. Anything I can do? Anything at all? John murdered. It doesn't seem possible. It's so hard to believe. Yes, ma'am. Was there anyone you might know of who didn't like your son, someone who might have hated him enough to do this? No one. No one at all. John had a lot of friends. Wasn't anybody who didn't like him bright and cheery, always smiling? I'm sorry. Please, I want to help. Get this over with. Go ahead with the questions. All right, ma'am. You like my ink at your help? Oh, thank you. What was it you were asking? Could you tell us where your son worked? Airplane factory out in the valley. He was an inspector. He just got a promotion and a raise. First rung of the ladder, he said, on his way up. What factory do you work at, ma'am? Websters. They make parts. John worked the morning shift. Midnight to seven in the morning. Said there was a better chance for advancement on the morning shift. How about girls, ma'am? Anyone special your son saw quite a bit of? Oh, just Alice. Alice Johnson saw her quite a bit. He was going to see her last night, had a date for 6.30. When did he leave the house? Do you recall? Oh, 6.15 or so. Alice just lived a few doors down the street. John was going to take her to a championship match over in Burbank. Billiards. John loved to play billiards. Alice liked it too. John always said that when he got married, he's going to have a table right in the house. Do you happen to remember where in Burbank this billiard match was going to be held? I'm not sure, but I think John said it George's place right on Burbank Boulevard. Do you know if your son had a large amount of money with him when he left? He had his week's pay with him. He just cashed his check this afternoon and then he gave me the $30 for the house. He had the rest of it. About how much would that be? Oh, maybe $40, $45. How about jewelry, ma'am? You carry any rings, anything like that? No, John didn't believe in wearing a ring. He said he'd do that when he got married. There was his watch. He had that. Restwatch, ma'am? Yes, he always carried it. He kept perfect time. Did your son have a car, Ms. Irishman? Yes, a Ford, 1951 Ford. What color do you know? Dark blue. Pretty car. He was so proud of it. I wonder if you'd have the license number of the car, ma'am. Yes, I think you'll find it with the phone book in the bureau. He keeps... he kept all his papers there. Wonderful billiards if we got it, ma'am. Yes, all right. Thank you. This it, ma'am? Yes, that's it. I still can't believe it. Yes, ma'am. It's going to be a hard thing to get used to, isn't it? Ma'am? Life without a son. 1240 p.m. Frank and I drove back to the office and checked the license number we'd gotten through DMV. The car was registered to a John Allen Iverson, 6295 North Serrano Avenue, legal owner, Bank of America. A local and an all-points bulletin were gotten out on the car, all occupants to be held for investigation. In the event the car was found abandoned, a stakeout was to be placed on it and homicide was to be notified. We checked the name Alice Johnstone through R&I, but there was no record on her. 1.50 p.m. Frank and I drove out to her place of employment, an unpainted furniture factory on Ventura Boulevard. We questioned the girl for a good hour and she explained that John Iverson was usually on time for his dates with her, but the previous night he'd called to say that he'd be a little late. He called several more times and finally said that he was afraid they'd better cancel the date and that he'd call for her in the morning. She told us that she could think of no reason for anyone to be jealous of her spending so much time with Iverson that he was the only date that she'd had for over a year. She gave us names and addresses of mutual friends to add to the list we already had to check out. 3.05 p.m. Frank and I went for something to eat. Is that all you're going to eat, Frank? Just that little salad? Yeah, Elizabeth's got the idea. I ought to cut down on my lunches. It says I'm getting too heavy around the middle. Oh, it's too bad. Chili was good. Yeah, it looks good. Pretty spicy, wasn't it? No, no, it was just right. A lot of beef. Uh-huh. Joe? Yeah. Do you think I'm getting too fat? No, you don't look it to me. When a man gets in his 30s, he's supposed to look a little portly, isn't he? Well, I don't know, Frank. You couldn't prove by me. Well, I always heard so. My father was pretty heavy. That has a lot to do with it. That's all. Well, sure, you know. It's heredity, that stuff. A lot of beef, huh? Yeah, I look, Frank. Why don't you have a bowl of the chili? It doesn't look like it's got so many calories in it. No, it doesn't, does it? Best. Oh, Miss, could I have a bowl of that chili? Some of that coconut cream pie, too. Thanks. Yeah, right away. What do you figure, Joe, about the Irish thing? No, I can't figure it. If we could just come up with a motive, it might be easier to give us some place to start. Yeah. Young kid seemed everybody liked him. Yeah, it looks that way. I've been thinking about that robbery angle. His mother said he left the house at about $45, didn't she? And we find him, and he's only got 13 of it left. Where'd the rest go? And that watch? If anybody was going to hold him up, they'd take the watch. They could have gotten something for it. Figure revenge? Jealousy? I don't know. The girl said there wasn't any reason for that. Look, as soon as you finish your lunch, let's check the place he worked. The guys he worked with, maybe they can give us the answer. It's been done before. Yeah. Iverson. Just got a raise and a promotion. Maybe somebody thought they should have got it. Before we left the lunch room, we called the list of names in the R&I. 3.32 p.m. Frank and I drove out to the aircraft plant where John Iverson had been employed. We checked with the foreman of the shop, the many worked with, the personnel office, everyone he came in contact with during the day's work. They all gave us the same answer that they could see no reason why anyone would want to take his life. 4.56 p.m. The list of names we'd given R&I had come back with no make. None of the names had any criminal record. We called the county morgue and found that the coroner had posted the body and that the cause of death was listed as a subarachnoid hemorrhage due to multiple depressed fractures of the skull. Lee Jones had finished the test and was able to tell us that the piece of concrete found at the scene was more than likely the murder weapon. 6.15 p.m. Frank and I drove over to Burbank to George's pool in Snooker Hall. It was a big place with a lot of neon over the entrance. Inside, there were about 10 tables with a row of theater chairs on each side of the large room. Just off the entrance was a small bar. Except for a man brushing off the tables, the place was empty. Hi, what it be? Pool? Billiard? Just Snooker? You the manager here? No, I'm not. I kind of run the place though when he's not here. Something I can do? The police officers. My name is Friday. This is my partner Frank Smith. I do. I'm Sam Howard. Were you on duty here last night, Mr. Howard? Yeah, until about midnight. I leave then. Sometimes when George asks me, I stay on, but I usually shove off about midnight. Why, anything wrong? I can get George on the phone. Do you know a man by the name of Iverson, John Iverson? You ever seen him around here? Iverson? There's an awful lot of guys come in here hard to tell. What's he look like? 5'9", about 136 pounds. Brown here. Likes to play billiards, I understand. John, I think I know who you mean. Never knew his last name before, but he comes in here quite a bit. Always plays billiards. Three cushions. You see him last night? There were an awful lot of people here last night. Had a match. Pretty crowded. What was he in here last night? Well, yeah. Came in, watched a match for a while, then he sat up at the bar. Had a couple of beers. Was he drinking with anybody? Let me think. Yeah, he and another guy were talking it up. The other guy was popping for the drinks. You know the other man? No, sir. Don't think I ever saw him before. About what time was that? Gee, it's hard to say. I was pretty busy. It's important, Mr. Howard. Like that, huh? Well, I'd say it was 7 o'clock, maybe 7.30. Johnny came in first. He watched the matches for a while. Then when this other guy came in, they both moved to the bar. He stayed there talking until about 9.30, 9.45. Then they walked out together. They were together all evening then? Yeah, near as I can tell. What did this other man look like? Let me think. I'd say it was maybe 36, 37. Had kind of dark hair. How tall would you say it was? Well, about your height, 5'10 or 11. Had on a plaid sport jacket. I noticed that because I've been looking for one like it. You know, sort of glen plaid only with more color. Not exactly loud. What color was the jacket? Blue. Real rich blue. Must have cost a fellow lot. During the conversation, did Iverson and this other man seem to get along all right? Oh, yeah. Even when the fellow lost the bet. What bet? Yeah, they had a bet on a match. The other guy lost and he had to pay Johnny 10 bucks. Didn't have the cash. Had a cash to check. You cashed it here? Yeah, it was a payroll check. George doesn't like it when we cash personal checks. If they bounce, we have to stand the loss. You think we could locate that check, Mr. Howard? Do you have to remember the company name on it? No, not right off. I can get it for you. Sir. Well, George wasn't feeling too well today, so he didn't get to the bank. Check's still in the safe. The check was issued from the Kimberly Insurance Company and made out to Martin G. Weber. The endorsement was made by Weber with a notation of his address under the signature. We called the office and had the name run through R&I. There was no record on him. According to the information we'd gotten from Sam Howard, the last time the victim was seen alive at 9.45 p.m., he was in the company of Martin Weber. Frank and I got in the car and drove out to the Kimberly Insurance Company. It was a large building on San Fernando Road. The employees were leaving the building when Frank and I got to the office of the general manager. We asked him about Weber, and he told us that he'd been with the firm for the past 10 years, starting as a runner on the floor and rising to the position of office manager. He told us further that in his entire 10 years of service, Weber had never been late or missed a day's work. However, on that particular morning, he hadn't shown up at all. We called our office and arranged for a stakeout on the building of the insurance company. Frank and I drove out to Weber's home, a modern apartment house in the North Hollywood area. We rang the bell, but there was no answer. We checked with the landlord, and he told us that he hadn't seen Weber the night before. In the company of the manager, we checked Weber's apartment. He was not there, and from what we could see, the bed had not been slept in. In further checking, the manager was able to give us the name and address of Weber's sister, Mrs. Maj. Wilson. We arranged for a stakeout on the apartment. At 8.20 p.m., Frank and I drove over to check with his sister. Yes? Mrs. Wilson. That's right. Police officers, Mrs. Wilson. I'd like to talk to you. My name's Friday. This is my partner, Frank Smith. Come in. But I thought all this had been cleared up. Ma'am. Well, you hear about my brother, Martin, aren't you? Well, yes, ma'am. I don't think I understand. Neither do I. It seems to me that you'd spend your time trying to find out why the man did it instead of bothering us. My husband won't like this at all. We're taxpayers. We've got rights. Just a minute, ma'am. I think maybe there's a misunderstanding. Nothing of the sort. You're talking about Martin, aren't you? Yes, ma'am. No misunderstanding at all. He had an accident. It's up to you to take care of the man who did it. Put him in jail for a long time. I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilson. I'm not sure we know what you're talking about. Well, this is the limit. My poor husband spends practically the whole night filling out forms and you don't even take time to read them. I'm talking about Martin's accident. The man who ran him down last night put him in the hospital, broke his leg. That's what I'm talking about. I've got two kids upstairs with bad colds and I haven't got time to stand around and talk to you. If there's anything else you want to know, you can talk to my husband. He'll tell you. Did you say your brother was run down by a car last night, ma'am? Yes, last night. And he's in the hospital now? Yes, yes, yes. Now, look, we're only trying to conduct an investigation, ma'am. Could you tell us what time this accident happened and where? All right. It's on the report if you'd only read it. Yes, ma'am. Martin was on his way home last night. He stepped off the curb out on Burbank Boulevard and this car came right around the corner and hit him, broke his leg, sent him to the hospital. He's been there ever since. He's there now. What time did this happen, ma'am? Sure, I know. It was 9.45. You are listening to DRAGNET, authentic stories of your police force in action. Friends, the name Fatima has always stood for quality. Fatimas are distinctive, with a truly different flavor and aroma. And in king-size Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke, plus the added protection of Fatima quality. Yes, there's a good reason why Fatima continues to grow in favor among king-size cigarette smokers everywhere. In Fatima, the difference is quality. Quality of tobaccos. The finest Turkish and domestic varieties, extra mild and superbly blended to give you a much different, much better flavor and aroma. Quality of manufacture. Smooth, round, perfect cigarettes. Rolled in the finest paper money can buy. Quality, even to the appearance of the bright, sunny yellow pack. So next time, insist on Fatima quality. Look for the bright, sunny yellow pack. Smoke Fatima. The extra mild and soothing king-size cigarette, with the added protection of Fatima quality. When we explained about John Iverson's death to Mrs. Wilson, she was extremely apologetic about the way she'd acted. She went on to say that her brother did have an appointment with Iverson the night before. We put in a call to Sergeant Erbson at the accident record bureau downtown, and he told us that there was a traffic accident report which listed the time of the accident at 9.46, corroborating the story given us by Mrs. Wilson. Weber had been given emergency treatment at Georgia Street and then transferred to General Hospital. From what Sam Howard had told us, we knew that Iverson had been alive at approximately 9.45 p.m. The deputy coroners fixed the time of death at approximately 10 or 10.30 p.m. The fact that Martin Weber had been run down by a car at 6.00 p.m. seemed to absolve him of any part of the crime. The stakeouts at his place of business and his home were removed. Frank and I drove over to General Hospital to interview Martin Weber. His leg was in traction, but he seemed to be in good spirits. I was on my way home, just stepped off the curb to catch a bus. Next thing I know, I looked up right into a pair of headlights. Almost scared me to death. And whammo, I was on the street, my leg broken. Oh, I'm covered. The whole thing won't cost me a cent. Yes, sir. We were talking to Sam Howard over at George's billiard hall. You were there with John Iverson last night, that right? Yeah, I tried. Had a talk with old John. Had a big business deal, trying to sell him some insurance. Oh, I didn't know your salesman, Mr. Weber. Well, I'm not really office manager. I don't like the job. Figured if I could bring in a good sale, the boss might let me have a crack at selling. Did Iverson give you any indication that he wanted any insurance? Well, not right off. He's always been worried about his mother, though. You know, if anything should happen to him. Anyway, a couple of days ago, one of the press men out at the plant where John Works was killed accident. I thought this might be a good chance to try to sell John some coverage. You know, life, leave his mother a little something. Yes, sir. Well, old John wasn't an easy one, let me tell you. He told me he wasn't completely sold on insurance yet, and then he said he'd leave it up to the billiard match. Sir? If the championship changed hands, then John would buy some insurance. If he didn't, I had to pay him ten bucks. I lost. Had to cash my paycheck to do it, too. Well, that was a break, though, weren't they? Lose a sale and get hit by a car. See, what's this all about, anyway? Why are all the questions about old John? Kill him. What do you mean? He was murdered. Well, how'd it happen? That's what we were trying to find out, sir. While you were at the bar with Iverson, did you see him talk to anybody, anyone besides you? No, he made a couple of phone calls so they would do his girlfriend, but that's about all. Well, wait a minute. We got outside the bar. There were a couple of guys that came up and talked to him. Had these men been in the bar? Yeah, come to think of it, they were sitting right next to us. When I had to cash that check, I didn't have a pen to endorse it, and one of the guys gave me his to use. You ever seen him before? No, I don't think I ever did. Can you describe to them, Mr. Webber, what they looked like? I didn't pay much attention to him. One of the fellas was a big guy, maybe six feet or more, a couple of hundred pounds, anyway. How old would you say? Well, maybe 37, around there. I'd know him if I saw him again. Well, how's that, sir? The scar had a scar right across here on his forehead. It made him look like he was frowning all the time. How about the other man? I'm afraid I can't be much help there. Five, five or six, heavy, 180 more or less. I think he was wearing a flannel suit. I can't be sure about that. You saw these men out on the sidewalk with Iverson right after you left the bar, is that right? Yeah. After I told John goodnight, I walked over the corner. I saw these two fellas come up to John, and from what I could hear, they were asking for a lift someplace. He gave him a ride today? No, no, I saw my bus come and made a run for it. Is there anything else you can tell us about these men that might help anything at all? Any little thing you might remember? Gee, now that I can remember, I didn't really pay a lot of attention to them, just a couple of guys sitting next to us. One of them let me his pant. Well, how about the pant? Are there any initials on it? No. It was the tall guy, the one with the scar. He loaned it to me. It was one of those plastic things, you know, with a figure that disappears when you turn it upside down. I know the kind you mean. I noticed it because I thought it was kind of cute. Anyway, it was put out by a Venetian blind company. You had the name right on it. Can you remember the name? Let me see. Rogers. Rogers Blind Company. All right, fine. Here's our card. If you remember anything else, we'd appreciate a call. Sure thing. Say, you fellas going out to Rogers? Yes, sir. I kind of hate to ask. Yes, sir. Can you pick up one of those pens for me? 11.35 p.m. We called the office and they told us that Iverson's car had been found abandoned up on Wonderland Drive in Laurel Canyon. It was taken to the police garage and impounded. The crime lab had gone over the car for fingerprints, and in eliminating the prints of the people known to have been in the car and friends of Iverson, they'd come up with one unidentified print. As remote as it was, the lead about the pen had to be checked out. We called the Rogers Blind Company, and the night watchman gave us the home phone number of the personnel manager. We called him, and he agreed to meet us at the plant. We gave him the description of the man who had talked to Iverson outside of the bar, and he was able to identify him as a Peter Standish, a former salesman with the company. He recognized Standish from the description of the scar, but he was unable to tell us the name of the other man. The personnel manager furnished us with Standish's last known address, but he'd moved and left no forwarding address. Frank and I went back to the office with the name through R&I. Standish had a record of two arrests on suspicion of 211 PC, one of them only a month before. Sergeant Hanson and Cummings drove out to the general hospital to show a mugshot of Standish to Martin Weber. He positively identified the suspect as the man he'd seen talking to Iverson on the night of the murder. We checked with Dean Bergman in latent prints. The fingerprint found in the car matched perfectly with the prints of Standish. Frank and I drove out to the last address on the suspect's arrest report. Two minutes before, she told us that there was another man living in the apartment with Standish and the description she gave tallied closely with the one we had of the man seen with Standish in the bar the night of the murder. She informed us that he was registered under the name of Charles Teal. In the company of the manager, we made a search of the suspect's apartment, but we found nothing. We asked the manager not to give any indication that we were in the apartment. She agreed to cooperate. We settled down to wait. Well, I'm getting tired of it, Teal. Every night the same thing dragging you out of some crummy bar. You don't knock it off, I'm going to get myself another boy. Not only that, but I'm getting sick of it. All right, let's hold it right there. Fuzz, crummy fuzz. I had to walk right into it. How's the other one, Frank? He's out. Want to shake him down? Yeah. What do you want with me, cop? I've done nothing. You got nothing to hold me for? He's clean, Joe. So is the other one. We've got plenty, Standish. Let's go. What? What you got on me? Murder, mister. Murder me? You're crazy. You're off your rock. I told you, Standish, I told you they'd get him. All right, let's hold it right there, mister. Don't make any more problems. It was him. He did it. I didn't want to. It was his idea. I'll tell you all about it. I should have known not to crush you, Teal, but you got me into it. We only wanted his money. He wouldn't give it to us. Standish kept trying to hit him with that piece of cement. I tried to make him stop. He didn't try to stop me splitting a dough. You got more than half. Don't worry about it. What do you mean you'll split this one even? The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On June 4th, a trial was held in Superior Court, Department 86, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California. In a moment, the results of that trial. And now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Fenneman. Friends, as we told you earlier, the name Fatima has always stood for quality. That same Fatima quality is the reason why King-sized Fatima continues to grow in popularity among smokers everywhere. Try them and see if you don't agree with me. That Fatima gives you an extra mild and soothing smoke, plus the added protection of Fatima quality. Next time you buy cigarettes, look for the bright, sunny yellow pack and ask for King-sized Fatima. Peter James Standish and Charles Edward Thiel were tried and convicted of robbery and murder in the first degree. They were sentenced to life imprisonment. They're now serving their term in the State Penitentiary, San Quentin, California. 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 Ken Patterson, Gwen Delano, Jack Krushen. Script by John Robinson. Music by Walter Schumann. Hell, give me speaking. King-sized Fatima has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles.