 Ladies and gentlemen, the story you're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a bunco fugitive detail. A secretary tells you her employer has suddenly left town. She says he's taken all the company records with him. Your job? Check it out. 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, May 18th. It was cloudy in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of bunco fugitive detail. My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Didion. My name's Friday. We're on our way back from lunch, and it was 1.46 p.m. when we got to room 38, bunco fugitive. Sergeant Friday? That's right. They told me to see you. Yes, ma'am. It's my partner Frank Smith. How do you do? Good afternoon. My name is Gibbons. Clara Gibbons. Would you like to sit down there? Thank you. All right. Well? Yes, ma'am. It isn't anything when you put your finger on it. At least it isn't anything I'm sure of. It wasn't even my idea coming to the police. Mama said I... I mean, my mother advised me to discuss this matter with you. I see. She's always claimed there was something funny about my job. She says this just goes to prove it. I'm sure she's mistaken. I'm sure Mr. Orlean wouldn't do anything wrong. Mr. Orlean? Oh, he's my boss, my employer, Henry Orlean. The thing is, he's disappeared. Yeah. All of a sudden. I wanted to see him last. Friday? Friday evening when I left the office, 5 p.m. Have you checked with his home? I don't know where he lives. He never told me. I see. He's never gone out of town before. Not since I started working for him. How long has that been? Seven months. Seven months on the third. What kind of business is he in? Uranium. Uranium stock. Multiple uranium investments incorporated. That's the name of his company. I see. Well, don't the other employees have any idea where he went? Some employees. I'm the only one. Oh, I see. Have you talked to missing persons? No. No, I haven't. You see, Mama doesn't think he's missing. She says he's skipped out that he's a crook. Does your mother know this, Mr. Orlean? Only what I told her about him. They've never met. She's been suspicious from the very beginning, though. Freda, don't follow you. Well, it's... Well, it's kind of hard to explain. How's that? You see, the thing is, Mama just can't understand why he ever hired me. The employment office sent me to see him, along with seven or eight other secretaries. Mr. Orlean picked me out from all the rest. Was there something strange in that? Well, the truth is I'm not much of a stenographer. Not a real good one, that is. I get kind of nervous whenever I have to take dictation. My taping's just fair, too. I could do real clean copy if they'd just let me take my time, but they never do. Is that right? Except for Mr. Orlean. He doesn't rush me or get me all upset. It's the first time I've ever been able to hang on to a job. Pays awful good. Twenty dollars a week more than I've earned before. That's all. Mama couldn't believe it when I told her. She said there's a catch to it someplace. Mm-hmm. It'd be different if I... Well, if I wasn't playing, two or three of the other girls who tried out for Mr. Orlean, they were very attractive and they all had nice clothes. Mm-hmm. Mama sure was surprised when I told her he'd picked me. There's a catch to it somewhere. That's how she put it. He's up to something and he wants a secretary who's not too bright. Well, I'm afraid we're going to need more than that to start an investigation, Ms. Gibbons. Yes, sir. I see. Well, thank you very much. Just a minute. Does he owe you any back wages? Oh, no. No, I'm paid up a month in advance. Mm-hmm. That was another thing that seemed funny. I mean, when you think about it now, it seems funny. What do you mean? My being with him less than a year and him wanting me to take a vacation with Pay a whole month off. How'd that come about? Well, it was just last week, Monday. Mm-hmm. A week ago today when he brought up the subject. He said it was getting on toward summer and now to start thinking about where I wanted to go on my vacation. Yeah. Well, I told him I didn't feel entitled to a vacation yet. He just smiled and said it was up to him to decide that. That he is the boss, wasn't he? Then he insisted I tell him just where I wanted to go. I couldn't think of any place at all. And he finally asked me why I didn't visit my sister in Hawaii. I see. She's married to a Navy officer stationed in Honolulu. I guess I must have mentioned her to Mr. Earl, and I... I guess that's what I knew about her. Yes, ma'am, must be. But the idea of ever paying her a visit hadn't even crossed my mind. Well, I tried to argue with him, but he pretended to get mad and told me if I was a good enough secretary to deserve a holiday, he's gonna see that I got it. And he said he'd make up for it when I got back that he'd really pour the work on. I knew he wasn't serious about pouring the work on, but it did seem like he really wanted me to go to Hawaii. Well, why didn't you take him up on it? Well, I meant to. I had him a ticket, round trip flight. Mr. Orland paid for it, just like he said he would. Yeah. I was supposed to leave Saturday night. I sent Anne an air mail letter telling her all about the trip. That's my sister, Anne Burcot. Yeah. Well, Saturday morning, she wired me not to come. Her husband's being transferred in a week or two. Well, she wasn't sure where. Maybe back to the States. I see. Oh, I suppose I could have made the trip anyway, but it wouldn't be any fun going someplace where I didn't know anybody. I don't make friends very easy. Is that so? Well, I didn't know just what to do, whether Mr. Orland would still want me to take the month off or not. I went down to the office this morning to talk to him about it. He wasn't there. Everything was gone. Yeah. From the safe, all records and stock certificates, everything. The corporation papers he had framed up on the wall, they were gone, too. Had somebody broken in? I don't think so. The suit was locked when I got there. I had my key. What about safe? I don't understand. Well, was it safe open or closed? Closed. Well, how'd you happen to look inside? I telephoned my mother and told her that Mr. Orland wasn't there, and she said I'd better check and see if anything was missing. Said it sounded to her like he'd skipped out. After I looked in the safe, she told me to get in touch with the police. Well, not just exactly what sort of business was this uranium company. Mr. Orland invested in various uranium stocks. For other people? Yes, that's right. Which bank did he use? Western National. The accounts in the main branch. I'll give him a call, Joe. Yeah. Okay. Well, it just wouldn't be any reason for him to run away, would there? Well, it's pretty hard to tell, yeah. I mean, he was doing a real good business. Well, that might be a reason. Oh. Do you know the names of his customers? The people who invested, Mr. Orland? That's right. Well, I guess I could remember some of them. The books are gone, though. I wouldn't be able to recall them all. I see. The old customers are ones who've been with us for several months. I'd remember them. Uh-huh. Was the business new when you started to work with them? Yes, sir, brand new. Find out anything? Yeah. Orlean closed out the mullible uranium bank account last Friday evening. A little before six. Six? Yeah. Banks stay open late on Friday's job. Oh, I don't forget. How much do you withdraw? Just under a hundred thousand. A lot of money. Yeah. I guess Mama was right about him. Starting to look that way. I should have known. From the beginning, I should have known. What? She's always right. While Frank put in a call to Sacramento to check on the corporate status of multiple uranium investments, I asked Clara Gibbons to give me a detailed description of the suspect. 2 28 p.m. Sacramento reported that no such corporation had ever been authorized. We ran the name Henry Orlean through R&I. They had nothing on him. We turned the description and ammo over to the stats office. They came up with seven possible stock fraud artists. We pulled their mug shots and showed them to Miss Gibbons. She was unable to identify any of the pictures. 3 0 7 p.m. Miss Gibbons accompanied us to the Wendler building on Rosier Boulevard in the Miracle Mile. We went up to Suite 4D. Just a second till I find my key. Yes, ma'am. Here it is. This is the outer office. Where I work. That's his office in there? Yes, sir. That's real fancy. Have you talked to the building manager today? No, sir. Is he around, you know? Well, there isn't any manager. Not exactly. The owner has an office down the hall. I'd be glad to find out if he's in. Thank you. You'll be here? Yes, ma'am. That's very impressive quarters, huh? Must have been a very impressive guy. Yeah. Look at that, John. I wonder what he had up there, huh? Up on the wall. See that spot? Looks like there used to be a picture or something. Well, those incorporation papers maybe, huh? Ponies. I don't know, as far as the state of California is concerned. This is Mr. Wendler. Mr. Wendler is Sergeant Friday. How are you? How do you do? This is... I'm officer. Sorry, I don't seem to remember your name. Sorry, my name's Frank Smith. Well, pleased to meet you. This is our identification. We'll see. Forget it. All right. Well, you're the owner of this building, are you? Well, it's the Wendler building. I'm Ted Wendler. Yes, sir. Draw your own conclusions. Yeah. Any objections to answering a few questions, Wendler? No. All right. Will you answer him for us, please? I thought I was. Yes, sir. I asked you one before to own this building. Outright. That isn't important. Well, it's important to me. It's important to the mortgage company. Is it in your name? Yes, it's in my name. All right, fine. What about the man who rented this suite? Orleans? Yes, sir. What about him? Do you know he left town? Well, she just told me. Do you know about it before? No. What can you tell us about him? He was a broker or something. Uranium stocks, I guess. We got that much. That's all you know about him, huh? How long have you been from him? See, a little over seven months. Be eight on the third. Did he mention anything about where he had offices before? No, he said he was from back east. Any particular place? No. Why, what's he done? We like to talk to him, that's all. Well, maybe he'll come back. Well, he doesn't. It's all the same to me. What? I made him pay his rent in advance the whole first year. That's your usual practice? No, only with fellas in the stock market. You see, I remember 1929. You never know what's going to happen, not with fellas in the market. You see, I remember 29. Yeah. If Orleans stays away, I'm way ahead of him. Rent's paid up. I'm nearly five months ahead of him. Yes, sir. I wish we were. Ted Wendler confirmed Ms. Gibbons' description of the suspect and insisted he could tell us nothing further about the man. While a crew from the crime lab went over the offices, we again questioned Clara Gibbons. She gave us the names and addresses of some of the people who had invested money with Orleans. 4.48 p.m. The crime lab reported that they'd been unable to discover any useful fingerprints in the suite. The only physical evidence they had uncovered was a copy of a prospectus which purported to list various securities owned by multiple uranium investments. It had fallen behind a filing cabinet. The next day, May 19th, Frank and I checked with several of the uranium companies listed on the prospectus. They all informed us that none of their stock had ever been purchased by multiple uranium incorporated, or Henry Orléon. 3.13 p.m., Frank and I drove out to interview one of the victims. Would you like to sit down? Thank you. Ms. Custis, do you know a man named Henry Orléon? Yes. Yes, I know him. Why? Did you ever invest any money with him? $5,000. Nothing's happened to Mr. Orléon. We aren't sure yet. How'd you happen to give him the money? Well, it was some insurance my husband left me. Yes, ma'am. I'd kept it in savings, didn't bring in much interest. When I heard about Mr. Orléon's company... Where'd you hear about it, do you remember? At the hospital. Ma'am? St. Agnes Children's Hospital. Oh. I spend a day a week there helping out in a charity ward. Oh, I see. I'm on some of the committees, too, you know, fundraising, things like that. Yes, ma'am. Oh, I'm not one of the big people behind the work, but somebody has to get out and dig for the little donations, too. Yes, ma'am, they do. And I have quite a bit of free time now. Do you remember who it was that first mentioned Mr. Orléon to you? I think it was Mrs. Larrington. Larrington? Yes, Mrs. Arthur Larrington. You must have heard of her. She does so much charity work around town. She's very prominent socially. Yes, ma'am. Just what did she say about Mr. Orléon's company? Well, she wasn't talking to me exactly. One afternoon, when she was showing some people the plans for the new clinic, I guess she was asking them for some contributions. That's how it sounded. One of the ladies said it all depended on how well her husband's stocks did during the next quarter. I see. And Mrs. Larrington laughed and told her her husband ought to be in multiple uranium that he wouldn't have anything to worry about. Go on. Well, that was all I heard. They went on to the next room. Afterwards, I got to thinking if this uranium stock was good enough for Mrs. Larrington, maybe I ought to check into it. You know, you're always hearing about people making fortunes in uranium. Yes, ma'am. Well, I looked up the company and the phone book and talked to Mr. Orléon. First, he wasn't very anxious for me to invest, but when I told him I knew Mrs. Larrington, he said he'd take me in as a favor to her. When was all this? About four months ago. Have you seen Mr. Orléon since? No. You heard from him? Not directly. I get a dividend check every month, though. Stock's paying very well. I figured it out. On a yearly basis, it'll come to over 30%. You can't do much better than that. I told some of my friends about it, too, so they could get in on it. Well, thank you very much, ma'am. You still haven't explained what this is all about. Well, we're trying to get in touch with Mr. Orléon, that's all. Oh, the Wendler building on Wilshire Boulevard. That's where his office is, the Wendler building. Yes, ma'am. Isn't he there? No, he isn't. I don't understand. Orléon seems to have disappeared. What? What about my money? I'm afraid that went with him. Well, that isn't possible. He couldn't have. Mrs. Larrington said it was a good stock. Yes, ma'am. We'll talk to her about it. Well, he paid me dividends every month, good dividends. Yeah, well, I wouldn't count on any more of them. What? Well, I'll bring charges against him. I'll have him put in jail. He'll find out. But that's all you need, isn't it? Somebody to bring charges? No, ma'am, not quite. Well, what do you mean? We need him. Frank and I left Mrs. Custis and drove out to interview another victim, Mrs. J.T. Pressing, on Highland Avenue. She told us that she had invested $8,000 in multiple uranium. She also told us that she had first heard about the stock through a friend who was on the fundraising committee for St. Agnes Hospital. We interviewed three more victims. All of them were in some way associated with the hospital or were acquainted with Mrs. Arthur Larrington. 8.45 p.m., we drove up to the Larrington estate in Bel Air. A maid showed us into the library and said that Mrs. Larrington would see us in a few minutes. Hey, Joe. Yeah? That's her. Up there on the wall, that painting, that's Mrs. Larrington. Yeah. Saw it in the Sunday paper once. Society page. For real now, that's the guy. The artist did it. You don't say. Probably flatters her a lot, maybe. Well, it's bound to. Well, me, she thinks so. Well, it stands to reason, Joe. If all a person wants is a good likeness, a photographer ought to do the trick. Yeah. Artists know that, too. They do, huh? Mm-hmm. Figures they want something else. Want to look better, so we flatters them. Oh, I see. That's the way it works. Are you gentlemen waiting for me? Mrs. Larrington? That's right. We're police officers. This is Frank Smith. My name's Friday. Well, I'm sure it's my husband who want to talk to. Unfortunately, he's in San Francisco on a business trip. Ma'am, we'd like to talk to you if you don't mind. Do you know a man named Henry Orlean? Orlean? That's it, yeah. The name sounds familiar, but I meet so many people it's hard to be certain. Have you ever heard of a stock called multiple uranium incorporated? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Well, I didn't associate the two for a moment. That's Mr. Orlean's company, isn't it? Yes, ma'am. Do you have any money invested in that stock? No, not me personally, but I can vouch for the company, if that's what you want. No. Mm-hmm. You see, I'm on the fundraising committee for St. Agnes Hospital. As a matter of fact, I'm the chairman. We know. And we do own some of Mr. Orlean's stock. The hospital, that is. But tell us, how'd you happen to buy it? We didn't. It was a donation. Would you mind telling us from who? Oh, no, not a bit. It's Orlean himself. I see. When did he give it to you? Last year. September. Yes, it was September. The charity bizarre. I don't recall the exact date, but I can find out for you. Well, September's close enough. Just what was this bizarre? A party here at my home. We opened the grounds to the general public. A garden party and auction combined. An auction? Mm-hmm. Some of the motion picture people donated the items we sold and all the money went to the hospital. Mm-hmm. We raised over $25,000. Not counting what Mr. Orlean gave us. Mm-hmm. That's the stock donation. That's right. He congratulated me on the bizarre. He seemed to be very interested in charity work. I said we would certainly use his help and he offered to do whatever he could. Go ahead, please. He said that, unfortunately, he couldn't give us cash at the moment. He mumbled something about a tax problem. I'm not really too clear about those things. Everyone seems to be having tax problems nowadays. Mm-hmm. So, instead of an outright gift, he offered us a block of stock in his company. I see. Now, just how much stock was involved? 500 shares, I think. Yes, something like that. At any rate, he said the market value of what he was giving us would be in the neighborhood of $10,000. Did he tell you anything else about it? Well, he didn't go into the details of his corporation and I certainly didn't question him. You don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Yes, ma'am. All I recall, he said his company owned shares and other uranium companies so that the money was well diversified. Now, was that all? Yes, I believe so. Except that he made one request. What was it? We asked me off to sell the stock for at least a year. To give you a reason? Oh, yes. He said that within a year's time it would double in market value. And in the meantime, the hospital would be receiving excellent dividends. I see. As a matter of fact, the dividends had been remarkable. Mm-hmm. Something like $500 a month, I believe, our treasurer told me. Mr. Orlean must be a very shrewd investor. Did you ever discuss this uranium stock with any of your friends, Ms. Larrington? Oh, why yes, once or twice. One of our committee meetings, when we were going over the books, we were surprised at the return it was paying us. We all talked about it then. I suppose I may have mentioned it since. Mm-hmm. Just in conversation. Yes, ma'am. Is Mr. Orlean upset that I told other people about his company? I didn't know. He wanted it kept secret. No, he wanted you to tell him. Well, then... Several people that you discussed multiple uranium with invested in the company as a result. Well, it's a perfectly sound investment. No, ma'am. What? Orlean has disappeared, and so is their money. Oh, I'm sure you're mistaken. The stock he sold him was phony. So was the stock he gave your hospital fund. Well, it couldn't be. Look at the dividends it paid. That was just good advertising. You mean he used the hospital? He used me? I'm afraid so. I... I just don't know what to say. I've never been involved in a situation like this before. It's terribly distressing. Well, I know it's not my fault, but... I can't help thinking I should have been more... careful, more discreet. Well, I'm sorry. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm very upset. We understand. Anita, we'll show you out. We'll find a way. Let's go. Oh. I was just looking at that painting up there again. You know I was right, Joe. Hmm? Flatter's here. The interview with Mrs. Lorington had enabled us to establish the suspect's MO. Additional bulletins were sent out alerting all police departments, charity organizations, and fundraising committees. During the rest of the week, we interviewed other victims of the stock swindle. None of them could furnish any additional information about the whereabouts of the man who called himself Henry Orlean. Three weeks later, on June 9th, we received a report from the Chicago Police Department. They informed us that a man answering Orlean's description had worked an oil stock swindle in that city during the previous year. He had then used the name of Roger Norgant. They also told us that this Norgant was suspected of an earlier stock swindle in Kansas City. Neither the Chicago nor Kansas City Police had a positive identification of the suspect, but in both cities, the MO had been the same. The suspect had donated a block of phony stock to a charitable organization, had paid very high dividends on the donated shares, and then had been able to acquire investments from private persons. Wednesday, June 11th, 3.17 p.m., Frank and I were in the office. Sergeant Friday? Yes, ma'am. You remember me? Clara Gibbons. I used to work in Chicago. Yes, ma'am. I just found him. Mama just found him. Mr. Orlean. Where? Over on Hill Street. She was just walking along and she saw him. Is she sure it's him? Positive. Please hurry. Just a minute, Miss Gibbons. Yeah, what is it? Didn't you tell us your mother had never seen this man? Well, she's seen him now. He was walking down Hill Street. Why does she know it's him if she never saw him before? I told her what he looked like. Dozens of times. All about him. I see. For heaven's sake, you don't have to see a person to know what he looks like. Mama would recognize Mr. Orlean anywhere. She's said so half a dozen times. She can describe him better than I can. Well... She's very intelligent, sergeant. She's not like me. Now please don't stand here and argue about it or he'll get away. Well, just where is he? The Norbridge Hotel corner of Hill and Hall. I thought your mother saw him on the street. Well, she followed him into the hotel. She didn't want to lose him. He went upstairs and she telephoned me from the lobby. She said she'd wait there to make sure he didn't leave. Oh, I see. She told me to bring you as soon as I could. It's nearly half an hour since she called me. We haven't got much time. All right, Miss Gibbons. All right. We'll check on it right away. You're going to arrest him, aren't you? If it's the right man. Well, of course it's the right man. That's right. That's right. I see. Fine. Okay. We'll forward our warrant to you. Will you send us a notification by telegram? Thank you. We sure are. Many thanks. Salt Lake City Police Department. Yeah. Picked up Orly in this morning. Tabbed him from our circular. Are you sure it's him? Gave him a full confession. Admitted the KC and Chicago deals, too. But it couldn't be, Mr. Orly. He's at the Norbridge Hotel. No, Miss Gibbons. I'm afraid your mother was mistaken. I've never known Mama to make a mistake. No, we all make them. But, well, she's waiting for us at the hotel. Why don't I tell her? Well, let's see. I guess there's only one thing. What's that? Tell her not to wait. The story you've just heard is true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On August 16th, trial was held in Department 98, Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the County of Los Angeles. In a moment, the results of that trial. Francis Caxton Wheatley, alias Henry Orlyan, alias Roger Norgott, was tried and convicted of grand theft, seven counts, and received sentence as prescribed by law. Grand theft is punishable by imprisonment in the county jail for no more than one year, or in the state prison for not less than one or more than 10 years. Holes were placed on the suspect by the states of Illinois and Missouri at the termination of his sentence in San Quentin. 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.