 Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to read a telegram we just received. Final Ballot Tabulation shows Dragnet has won Michael Award for Best Radio and also for Best Television Mystery Program in 1952. 20,090 qualified members participated in nominations in Final Ballot. Congratulations and best wishes. Ed Bobley, President Academy of Radio and Television Arts and Sciences. Music The way you're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima Cigarettes. Best of all, king-sized cigarettes brings you Dragnet on both radio and television. Music You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a robbery detail. A United States mail truck has held up and robbed. 22 sacks of registered mail are taken. The hold-up men escaped. There's no lead to their identity. Your job? Get them. Music Compare Fatima with any other king-sized cigarette. Yes, compare Fatima with any other king-sized 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-sized Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke, plus the added protection of Fatima quality. Five, Fatima, in the bright sunny yellow pan. Best of all, king-sized cigarettes. Music 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, August 4th. It was hot in Los Angeles. We were working the night watch out a robbery detail. My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Didion. My name's Friday. I was on the way back from communications and it was 11.05 p.m. when I got to room 27A. The squad room. That's it. There wasn't anything else to do. I had a gun pressed right up against the back of my head. I didn't dare make a move. All right, bud. Take it easy. Jill, nothing yet. The broadcast and the APB are out on them. How are you feeling, Houston? Not bad. Still a little shaky. How about my partner's Frank and Adolf? Are they hurt bad? No. A couple of bad bumps in the head. They'll be all right by morning. The doctor's treating them now over Georgia Street. Can we talk to them tonight? The doctor doesn't think it'd be a good idea. We can wait all morning. You look a little pale, Houston. Are you sure we can't get you something? No. No, I'll be all right. Still a little shaky, then, so... So we're scary. I've forgotten the life. I thought I was gone for sure. How about a glass of water? Yeah. Yeah, okay. If you got it. You bet. You got a penny, Frank? Yeah. Just talking about the getaway car when you came in, Joe. Yeah. Houston here is pretty sure it was right the first time. It was a dark blue sedan, late model. Any idea at all what make it work, bud? I wouldn't like to say definitely. I don't want to mix you up. I got half an idea. It was a GM car. Maybe a Buick or an Olds. I can't say for sure. Well, here's your water. You didn't get a look at the license, huh? You're sure of that, are you? No, I didn't see it at all. The whole thing went too fast for me. I appreciate this. I got it. Robert, you smet? Yes, sir. Oh, yeah, Inspector. Uh-huh. Yeah, I see. Yeah, we'll be here for a while. Yeah, 27A. Right, thank you. Goodbye. You got it. Post Inspector Joe, he's on his way over now. That's fine. Hey, bud, when you started your run with that mail truck tonight, you have any inkling at all that there was something wrong? I don't think I get you, Sergeant. What do you mean? Well, I mean, if you happen to notice anyone suspicious hanging around the post office out with a loading platform, may I come in? No, no, buddy. How about on your way to the union station? Are there any cars following your mail truck? No, if there were, I think I'd have noticed it. I usually keep an eye out when we're making a run. Say, how about I got into it, I guess? How long have you been driving a mail truck, bud? About five years. I've only been handling the registered mail last couple of months, so... Did your truck leave the post office unscheduled or anything? Yeah, right on the dot. We followed the other trucks out. You see, the trucks that pick up the ordinary mail they leave first, and then our truck leaves right after them. We only handle registered stuff, I see. The same routine tonight, no different. You were the driver of the truck, that, right, bud? Yeah, that's all I do is drive. We get off the guard, that's regulations. On trucks that handle just the straight mail, the driver's the only one aboard. Registered mail trucks, gotta have three men, the driver, the clerk, and the guard. We usually drive the same route from the post office to the union station. Yeah, we go the same way every night. Straight down Temple Street, turn right, go down Ferguson to Alameda, and over Alameda to the union station, make the pickup for the delivery, and then we come back the same way the post office. Man, that's a route you follow, isn't it, bud? Yes, sir. That's it. We didn't make it back this time. I'd like to make sure we got this street now, bud. You mind checking us out on exactly what happened from the time you got to the union station? No, no, I don't mind. I'll try to relax if you can. Just take your time. Try to remember everything, will you? Say, would you mind very much if I called my wife first? I know I'm going to be late getting home. I don't want her to worry. You bet. Go right ahead, bud. What's your number? I'll dial it. Oh, thanks. It's pleasant. 29321. Okay. You got a family, bud? Yeah, three kids. Mother-in-law, too. Give us one. Here you are, bud. Oh, thanks. All right? Oh, hi, mother. Got you out of bed? No, nothing's wrong. I just called to say I'd be a little late tonight. I didn't want Lorraine to worry. No place? No, I'm not in a bar. Why do you have to say things like that? That's the way you feel all right. Just tell Lorraine, will you? Hello? Mother-in-law, I never get off your back. Sorry to interrupt, doc. It's all right, bud. You want to go ahead now? Let's see. You wanted to know what happened after we left the union station? Yeah, that's right. What time was it when you left the station? Right after we loaded the mail sacks on the truck. 28 sacks all registered and took off. What time was that? Scheduled time, 9.56. Left the station, headed for the PO, drove the same route, along Alameda to Ferguson, then up to Ferguson. As I turned the corner, I picked up their headlights from the rear-view mirror, and they started crowding us. I knew something was wrong. Too late to do anything. They pulled up a long side portion of the curb then? Yeah, the darkest part of the street, too. It was a big sedan. I know they had a four-door job. Dark blue, and it was a late model, I'm sure. You notice anything special about the car? I mean, maybe a dead offender. Some special accessories on it, anything like that. No, nothing. I'd be sure about it. I was too busy trying to keep going, get out of their way. I didn't have much of a chance. They forced us up on the sidewalk. I saw a telephone pole coming. I mean, I had to stop. What happened then? I threw a bright spotlight on it. Blinded me for a minute. These three men got out of the car and came out of his guns in their hands. No, happened in a couple of seconds. I was never so scared in my life. Did you get a good look at any of them then? No, I didn't. It was pretty dark, a place they stopped to set. I couldn't be sure I'd recognize any of them if I saw them again. Well, what did the men do when they came up to the truck? They put the guns in our face, made us get out of the truck and climb into their car. There was a dam. And one of them got in a mail truck behind the wheel. His name was Sid. I heard that. One of the men said, follow us in the truck, Sid. You know where to go. That's what he said. And you happen to hear any other names? No, that was the only one. And Sid seemed to be the boss. He was giving the orders anyway. They put you and your two partners in the back seat of their car? Yeah. Yeah, and the two thieves were in the front seat. One drove and the other held a gun on us. He kept the lower part of his face covered with a handkerchief. You see the mail truck following a little ways behind us. They drove you straight down Alameda? Yes, sir. Like I told you before, I think it was about a mile, a mile and a half. And they turned off right into that alley by the warehouse, the same place you found it. Look at that. That was the end. They got us out of the car, pranked me and ate off. They just lined up against the brick wall there, hands up in the air, facing the wall, and then they opened up the back of the truck and transferred the mail sacks to their car. Well, any conversation about how long this was going on? Not too much, no. You see, one of them, I think that was Sid. He covered us with a gun, a shotgun. The other two moved the mail sacks from the truck to the car, and every once in a while they'd sit and tell him, come on, faster, we're short on time. I think that's what he said. Well, why'd they slug your two partners, this prank and ate off? That's coming to that. You see, when they got all the mail sacks in their car and they were ready to pull out, the other two guys came over to Sid and one of them said, what are we waiting for? Let's kill them and get out of here. Yeah? Right away our clerk, Frank, he began pleading with them not to kill us. I guess Frank was thinking of his wife and his little kid. How the thieves were acting? Well, they slugged him, pranked him with a gun, and hit him a couple of times. Frank went down and he started crying. Just a young kid. Yeah, I know. Well, this other guy told Sid again. He said, come on, let's kill him. Let's get out of here. He's the one who had something wrong with his voice. It was real hustling, you know, like he had a cold. Go ahead. Well, I gotta say this Sid wasn't much for killing us. He told the other guy he didn't think they ought to kill us because they'd set him up for a murder rat besides mail robbery. The other two guys told Sid, what's the difference if we're going to rob the mails? We might as well go all the way. They argued about it a minute or so. Well, then my other partner ate off. He began to plead with him. He said, please don't kill us. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't even talk. What did you say? I said, I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't even talk. Oh. Was that when they slugged it off? Yeah. Yeah, this Sid slugged him. He hit him worse than he did. Frank, he kept beating and beating. He's still here. I just got sick. We'll make a long story short. This Sid finally said, we'll give him a gambler's chance. We'll toss for him. That's just what he said. He said, we'll toss for him. And he says, hey, you. And he motioned to me. He said, I'm going to toss a coin. You call it. If you lose, we kill the three of you. If you win, we don't. So he helped me. It's the truth. I didn't know what to do. I tried to talk him out of it. And he wouldn't listen. And Sid told me either I called it or they'd kill us then. There was a coin out of his pocket and flipped it in the air. I called ahead. If I don't have to tell you, I won. Something new for the book? How to go after that. But he tied up the three of us and drove off in their car. About 15 minutes later, that night, Watchman found us and called you. You know that, right? Well, you're sure you wouldn't be able to identify any of the hold-up men if you saw him again? No. You're real sure? No. The general bill, that's the only thing I'm sure of. His fellow Sid was tall on the thin side, about 45, 50 years old. The other two were fairly short. Stocking. Like I told you, that one fellow's voice, neat and husky. I think I'd know him if I heard him talk again. Excuse me a minute. Robby, Friday. Yeah, well, how's it going? Uh-huh. Yeah, not much down. All right. Fine, yeah. Fine. The getaway car, they just found it. I heard you. Up in the lesion park just off Riverside. What about the mail sacks? They find them too? Yeah, every one of them. Empty. According to the report we've received, the getaway car was found parked in a clump of debris on the edge of a lesion park about half a mile from Riverside Drive. All of the 28 registered mail sacks were found scattered in and around the car and with the exception of a few pieces of mail, the sacks were empty. A crew from the crime lab was dispatched immediately to the scene to check the car and the mail sacks for fingerprints and to cover the entire area of the physical evidence. The mail truck was also gone over for prints at the point where it had been located. The officers at the scene, Sergeant Bitteroff and Gonzalez continued the investigation on their end. After the inspector from the post office department arrived, we continued our interview with Blood Houston, one of the three victims of the mail truck robberies. We ended the interview a few minutes after midnight and Houston was driven to his home. The following morning, along with the postal inspector, Frank Smith and I caught the other two victims, the clerk and the guard who were with Houston at the time of the holdup. They could add nothing to what their partner had already told us. The investigation went on. Every possible angle was checked and rechecked. Three days passed. Nothing. Thursday, August 7, 5.40 p.m. Hi, Joe. How'd you make up? It's sour, nothing at all. The guy wasn't even in town and had a holdup and he'll prove it. You have any luck? No, better than yours. I might just as well have taken the day off for all the good we did. Nothing from the stats office, huh? No. Last one we asked for won't be ready till tomorrow. It's getting a little embarrassing, Joe. We got him checking Prankby every robbery card they've got. M.O. description only a few of them come close. We've already rolled them out as possible. The one you just checked on, that was the last. That does it. Might as well close up shop for the day, huh? You ready? Yeah, let's go. I'll sign this up. All right. Okay, Joe. Now that mail truck driver, Houston, and his partners were in checking through our mug books again this afternoon. Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Did they come up with anything? They spotted one mug shop, Crowley from Quentin, only a partial IDEN. Three of them couldn't even agree on that. I checked on them, and he's back in Quentin for a month. I can't say the three of them are cooperative. They sure been working for us, haven't they? Hey, Joe, you in a hurry? How about watching that? Yeah, all right. In a long time, since we've had one start as slow as this one, I mean, right from the start, Joe, we find a getaway car, plenty of prints on it, can't get a make on any of them. Find out the car we're stolen, we check the owner, location, leads nowhere, prints on the steering wheel of the mail truck, parts of the mail sack, still no make. How tough can it get? Well, they might have something when their kickback comes through from Washington, the hold up men weren't amateurs. We know that. Joe, you check with Gonzalez and better off today. I didn't see him. Yeah. You're not doing much better than the rest of it. He's supposed to have some work for him tomorrow and a couple of possible. Hey, how about the money thing from the mail they got? List of the serial numbers on the bills going on to everybody? Yeah, revised with what I've laid last night. Copy, send it over to him. Right? Yeah, I'm accurate. Oh, please. Okay, thanks. You're right there. All right. Okay, let's go. All right. Hope this call means something, Joe. Wouldn't mind going late tonight. What do you mean? My sister-in-law, Florence, you having me and the wife over for dinner, some kind of fancy pork dish. What's the matter with that? She never cooks anything and she likes things raw. Is that so? Imagine what that roast pork's gonna be like. We'll all end up with trichinosis. Yeah. Go ahead. Mac? Which one, Mac? One, too, Joe. Thank you. Friday talking. Yeah. Oh, yeah, John. Mm-hmm. I'm sure it checks. Okay, fine. It's about 20 minutes. 20 minutes, yeah. Right, thank you. Anything, Joe? Wilshire Detectives. They've got a petty theft suspect out there now. I mean, Cecil Grant picked him up this morning. What about him? Well, he had a $20 bill on them stuffed down and checked out the serial number. It's on the list. 6.05 p.m. Frank and I got in the car and drove out to Wilshire Station where we double-checked the serial numbers on the $20 bill taken from the petty theft suspect, Cecil Grant. They checked out. The officers at Wilshire Division had already made a run on Grant through R&I, but outside of one other arrest for petty theft, he had no further criminal record. His fingerprints had been checked, but they failed to tie in. The suspect was taken from his cell to the interrogation room where Bill and I questioned him. We talked a lot, but he didn't say much. Well, now, look, there ain't any reason to get mad. We can settle this thing without a big rhubarb. No reason to get mad. 28 sacks of U.S. mail. Mr. A couple of men slugged or they couldn't stand up. We figure that's a good reason. All right, all right. All right. Why bring your troubles in me? That wasn't enough. You got a piece of the loot, a $20 bill. You had it in your pocket. You admit it's yours. All right, so what? The holdup's still fresh. It ties you in close, Cecil. You're warm enough for us. What do you mean? You don't need me to explain it. You got a piece of the loot. You say the bill must have been in your pocket for at least a day. That's right. Then it's a good chance you were in contact with the thieves, either that or you're one of them. I'm not. You know that. Couldn't have been there. I got an alibi. Now, face it, Grant. You're not going to alibi that $20 bill. Now, how about it? I don't know. I told you I don't know. If it's not your job, you better check us out, Cecil. Robbing the U.S. mail. I think you know what that gets you. I don't know. Money was in my pocket. I just don't know. How about it, Cecil? I'm not in. You know that. Then what about the $20? What about it? I don't know. This is the way it happened. The guy owed me a $20. He owed it to me for six months, maybe more. His e-cameron paid off. He gave me that bill you got. This last Tuesday? That's right. I thought it was funny, but he's a nice guy. I didn't want to make trouble. What do you mean? Well, when he paid me the $20 back, he said, well, look here, the bill isn't phony, but don't let it out for a couple of days. The bill's okay, but just sit on it maybe a week or two. That's just what he told me. Who was it? Where did we find him? A nice guy, a friend. I don't want to make trouble. It's already made. Now what about it? Johnny Carter, 380 Nashville Avenue, apartment 2. You are listening to Dragnet, authentic stories of your police force in action. Because of its quality, Fatima is the one king-sized cigarette that stands up. Here's the practical way to prove that yourself. Compare Fatima with any other king-sized 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 percent longer than standard cigarette size. Fatima gives you more for your money. And in king-sized Fatima, you get an extra mild and soothing smoke. Plus, the added protection of Fatima quality. Because of its quality, its extra mildness, and superbly blended tobaccos, more and more smokers coast to coast are switching to Fatima every day. Five, Fatima, your money back plus postage. If you're not convinced, Fatima is better than the king-sized cigarette you are now smoking. Just return the pack and the unsmoked Fatima by August 1st, 1952. August 7, New York 1. Add to your smoking enjoyment. Smoke king-size Fatima, extra mild and soothing. Plus, the added protection of Fatima quality. Get Fatima in the bright sunny yellow pack. Best of all, king-size cigarette. August 7, Thursday, 6.55 p.m. We called R&I but they had no make on the name My partner, Frank Smith and I left Wilshire Division and headed out to check on the address given us by the theft suspect, Cecil Grant. The 300 block on Nashville Avenue was in West Hollywood just below Melrose. Number 380 was an aging two-story apartment house. The architecture was old Spanish, a relic of the mid-20s. The name John Carter appeared on one of the mailboxes but when we rang there was no answer. We contacted the apartment manager and he told us John Carter worked on the second floor and checked through the suspect's apartment. We found nothing to indicate that he'd taken part in the mail hold-up. After a routine interview with the manager we got the name and address of the garage where Carter was employed and we left. 8.23 p.m. we pulled up and parked half a block away from Carter's place of employment, an all-night service garage on South Figaroa. Frank waited in the car and I headed up the block alone toward the garage. In the event Carter was one of the mail truck that this was the case we didn't want to tip him off. Hi. Yeah, you want something more? Yeah, I do. I need a little help if you've got the time. I don't know. I'm busy right now. What's the matter? I got my car stalled down the street there. I can't figure out what's wrong. A lot of you things have stopped on me. All right. Check the gas tank. Yeah, nothing as simple as that. I got almost a full tank. Well, I hate to bother you. You think you can come down and take a look at it? It's not far. Just a half a block if you appreciate it. If you give it a look, I'm not much of a mechanic in the cell. Probably something real small. My car is almost new. I don't know. Just a minute. All right. That's going to have to do two and a half service charge. I have to leave the garage. I guess you know that. Okay. That's all right with me. I got to get that car started. Pay in advance. We've had too many hassles on this before. Okay. There you go. All right. Okay. Just down the street you said? Yeah, down this way. Okay. I don't know what happened to the lousy thing. Just quit on me. I know. Nice night. What'd you do? A car on the gas pedal? Flood the carburetor? No, I don't think so. I kept trying to start her when the thing quit on me. There's an automatic choke on the car though. Maybe that had flooded. I don't know. A half a block now. Which one's your car? Straight ahead, there's a gray sedan. Oh, yeah. This one right here. Okay. Get the hood open. Well, never mind that if you're just getting the car. All right, Frank. Nice officers. Just identification. Get in the car. What's the matter? What is it? Come on. Come on in the car. There was a pitch. What's it all about? Your name, John Carter, address 380 Nashville Avenue. I don't know what you're talking about. Is that your name and address? All right. It is. What about it? Get him behind you. Help him, Frank. Yeah. All right. That's good. What are you trying to pull? What's this about? The U.S. We're going to go ahead and arrest the news boy down the corner, same thing. No, there's a big difference. Yeah, you name it. The $20 bill. 9.05 p.m., after checking with the garage manager to make sure none of his employees were possible accomplices of Carter's, we drove the suspect back to the city hall, took him to the interrogation room and started to question him. In the space of an hour and a half, he gave us three alibis, supposedly accounting for his whereabouts the night of the mail truck robbery. In the same period of the alibi by phone calls, every one of them was alive. The questioning went on. 11.30, midnight, 12.30 a.m. We set out for coffee. 1.00 a.m., 1.30. We stayed on it. 2.00 o'clock, 2.30, 3.00 a.m. It was like any other interrogation. It's a lot tougher to keep asking the questions and to answer them. We were as tired as the suspect, but he had one big advantage. We had to keep pressing and we couldn't afford to show our fatigue. All he had to do was to say no and refused to answer him. At a few minutes before 5.00 a.m., we called a halt to the interrogation, but not before we gained a point. Apparently, by a slip of the tongue, Carter gave us the name of the girl he was keeping company with and also her place of employment. After we booked Carter on suspicion of 211 PC, and after we picked up two hours sleep, we located the girlfriend of Grace Nelson at her place of employment, a telegraph office at Alpine and South Flower. All I know is I met John Sparrow. You don't need his friends, Ms. Nelson, and the people he has dealings with. Not personally, I don't. I didn't talk about someone. Why, that's mad. You remember any of the names, Ms. Nelson? I see. He's always talking about Sid. I don't know his last name though. In a way, you find him and then there's Sammy. I don't remember his last name either. I met Sammy once, but I don't know where he stays. As a matter of fact, it's been nice and he's ever been. Honey, mean miss. For my birthday, I mean last Wednesday. Yeah. He was so sweet about it and really sweet, he gave me four hundred dollars, gave it to me in cash, told me to go off and buy what I wanted. Wouldn't you say that's sweet? Do you any of that money left for Ms. Nelson? Yes, of course I have. See, right here in my post. See, there, one half of it. Carter, what's wrong? Serial numbers, ma'am. This money was taken in a hold up US mail. We've got a pretty good reason to suspect Carter. I mean, John's a thief. That's how he got the money. I can't believe it. Quite as true, ma'am. It's so hard to believe. I hope you don't think I had anything to do with it. I mean, robbing people, mails. Are you sure it's John Carter you want? Yes, ma'am, we're pretty sure. We understand you are pretty close to him. He said the two of you were going to get married. I don't know, we did have it said at one time, but I just get out now. You're willing to admit the $400 you got came from John Carter, the same bills that he gave him to you? I don't know, I love John. I want to hurt him. I really love him. Tell me the truth, what's going to happen? He's going to be charged with robbery, ma'am, holding up a US mail truck, taking 28 sacks of registered mail. John? John Carter? That's right, him and two others. I'd like to ask you one more question, miss. Do you have any idea what Carter was up to, the robbery, any? Of course not. No idea at all. I love him. It just wouldn't make any sense, though, would it? Ma'am. Going to jail for him, just common sense. He can't love anybody that much. That afternoon we had the suspect John Carter brought from his cell to the interrogation room where he was confronted with a testimony of both Cecil Grant and Grace Nelson, two of the people he'd given some of the stolen money to. Another hour of interrogation and Carter broke. He admitted taking part in the hold up and gave us the name of the mastermind of the robbery of Sidney Grover at an address in Highland Park. Frank and I checked it out. Yeah. Police officers, you Sidney Grover? Yeah. I'm not feeling so well. Can't you come back later? I'm not feeling well at all. It's kind of important, Grover, like to talk to you downtown. Come back later, huh? But later on, I got so many troubles right now, please. Like to talk to you about a hold up, Grover, a mail truck? We got the two men who worked it for you. They gave us the whole story. Two men? What do you mean? Can't you see I got a hold up? Look, don't you understand? My son's left me. My only boy. In fact, his bag he walked out of that thing. Ray, that's your problem, mister. He said he didn't want any part of me. He had an argument. He didn't like what I was doing. Big argument. He slapped my face my own boy when he walked out. He slapped my face. All right. You want to get your coat? Yeah. Okay. Nail job. Is that it? Got the other two? Yeah, we got them. All right. No argument. I didn't try to run away. What's up? I'm sorry. I wouldn't know. Let's go, Robert. Your sour story, huh? The old man trying to nail Robert. I'm 55. I don't look it, do I? The kid slapped my face. He said I was a crook. I couldn't get him back. My only boy. Wish he hadn't called me a crook. But it's our story, isn't it? Yeah, it's sour. Let's go. The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On November 29th, trial was held in Superior Court, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California. In a moment, the results of that trial. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Phenomenon. Friends, there's one thing I'd like you to remember the next time you buy cigarettes. The team must give you more for your money. That's because no other King's Eye cigarette can match Fatima quality. And because Fatima's 21% longer than standard cigarette's eye, that added length means that Fatima's extra mild and soothing smoke is cool and filtered for your protection. Get a pack tomorrow and compare them with the cigarettes you've been smoking. Fatima, best of all, King's Eye cigarette. Sidney Allen Grover, along with his two accomplices, John Harold Carter and Samuel Maxwell Johnson, were tried in convictive robbery in the first degree, one count, and assault with a deadly weapon, one count. All three are serving their terms in the state penitentiary. First-degree robbery is punishable by imprisonment from five years to life. Assault with a deadly weapon is punishable by imprisonment for not less than one, nor more than 10 years. 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 Winn, Sergeant Vance Brasher. Heard tonight were Herb Ellis, Big Taren, Inga Hollis. Script by Jim Mosey. Music by Walter Schumann. Hell, give me speaking. Fatima cigarettes, best of all, King's Eye cigarettes has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles. Now, it's Counterspy on NBC.