 The story you are about to hear is true, only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima Cigarettes. Best of all, long cigarettes brings you dragnet. You're a detective sergeant, you're assigned a homicide detail. A wealthy society woman in your city vanishes. Two months pass before a disappearance is reported to the police. There's suspicion of foul play. Your job? Investigate. Webster's Dictionary. Definition of the word compare. Compare. Examine for purpose of discovering resemblance or difference. Now, let's compare Fatima with any other king-size cigarette. The resemblance. Fatimas are the same length as other king-size cigarettes, 85 millimeters. Fatima has the same circumference, one and one-sixty-fourths inches around. And Fatima filters the smoke exactly the same long distance as other king-size cigarettes. The difference. In Fatima, the difference is quality. You see, Fatima contains the finest domestic and Turkish tobaccos superbly blended to make Fatima extra mild. You get all the advantages of extra length plus Fatima quality, which no other king-size cigarette has. So compare Fatima yourself. Your first puff will tell you. Ah, that's different. Yes, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Buy Fatima. Best of all, long cigarettes. Dragnet. The documented drama of an actual crime. For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will travel step-by-step on the side of the law through an actual case transcribed from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Monday, February 8th. It was foggy in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of homicide detail. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Thad Brown, Chief of Detectives. My name's Friday. We were on the way out from the office, and it was 11.23 a.m. when we got to the ninth floor of the Medical Dental Building. Room 912. Dr. Marston? Yes. What is it? Police officer's doctor. Would you like to talk to you? Oh, yes. I'm sorry. Daydreaming, I guess. I didn't hear you come in. Well, my name's Friday Doctor. This is my partner, Sergeant Romero. How are you? How do you do, gentlemen? It's about the missing person's report on your wife you filed it yesterday. Yes, that's right, Sergeant. Certainly glad you came. I'd like to have this whole thing straightened out as quickly as possible. I want my wife back with me. Well, we'll do everything we can, Doctor. There's a few things we'd like to have you straighten out for us, if you will. I thought I made it pretty clear in that report I filed yesterday. What is it you have a question about? I've got a copy of the report right here. It says your wife disappeared December 9th. That's a little over two months ago, Doctor. Yes, that's correct. December 9th, Sunday night. We were out having dinner, and we had a little argument, and Louise left. I didn't hear from her until the following Friday. That's when she wrote me the first letter. It was from New York. Weren't you a little alarmed if I'd not your wife had left you in gone East? Well, I wasn't too happy about it, but we'd had a few arguments before. I always figured it'd be both of us good if Louise got away for a little while. No, I wasn't particularly worried. She has friends in New York. Would you care for a cigarette? Not right now. Thank you, Doctor. I've got a light for you. Thank you. I understand your wife didn't stay with her friends this trip, Doctor. No, apparently she didn't. However, I wasn't too concerned. She wrote me letters twice a week, and then she wrote Stanley. That's our son. He's in military school. Louise wrote to him regularly, too. And the last letter you got to me, was about two weeks ago. Yes, exactly two weeks ago. Had the same postmark on it, New York. Well, have you any idea at all where she was staying back there? That's a strange part of it, Sergeant. Louise didn't put her return address on any of the letters. I inquired of some of our friends back there, but none of them had seen her. Well, I suppose she was staying at a hotel. I don't know which one, though. Well, about those letters, Doctor, you're sure that they're in your wife's handwriting. You don't think they could be forgeries, do you? It's possible, but I don't think so, Sergeant. I know my wife's handwriting. Do you have all the letters with you, sir? Yes, I'll have my secretary get them before you leave. She's out to lunch now. Excuse me, please. Yes, Dr. Marston. Well, Miss Taylor, oh, yes, I'm glad you reminded me. Thank you. I'm sorry, officers. There's a denture I have to have ready for one of my patients by this afternoon. Would you mind if I go ahead and work on it while we talk here? No, it's perfectly all right, Doctor. Would you mind sipping in the lab back here? All right, fine. Go ahead, ma'am. I'm sorry to interrupt everything like this. I do have to have this denture ready though. We understand, sir. Doctor, you say the night your wife, Louise, disappeared, the two of you had an argument? Yes, that's correct. We were having dinner out at our country club, and I guess Louise had too many cocktails. She gets in a nasty mood when she drinks too much. I asked her to stop drinking. She flared up and walked out of the place. Did anyone besides yourself see her leave? Oh, yes, two or three couples, friends of ours. When I found out Louise had gone off to New York, I thought, well, it was her way of teaching me a lesson. I wasn't too disturbed about it until a letter stopped coming. Well, how about your son, Stanley? Do you know if he's still getting the letters from his mother? No, he's not. I telephoned him up at his school. He stopped getting letters about the same time I did. Well, let's see. Where did I put that cast in? Oh, here we are. Then as far as you know, doctor, no one at all has actually seen your wife since that night at the country club when she walked out and left you. Mm-hmm, that's correct. As I say, if I hadn't been getting those letters from her every week from New York, I would have called the police in long ago. Would you excuse me, please? Oh, oh, yeah. Quite a bit of oxide in this gold crown I've cast here. A little bit of acid should take care of that. What's your theory on all this, doctor? Your wife leaves suddenly and she goes to New York. She corresponds with you and your son, and then her letters stop coming. What do you think might have happened? Well, frankly, Sergeant, the whole thing's a terrible family mix-up. Get this crown here out of the acid. How do you mean, doctor, a family mix-up? Well, just that. There's only one reason for Louise disappearing the way she has. Money. Money and that stepfather of hers. Say, would you switch on that small motor there, Sergeant? I've got to polish up this crown and get it in shape. Oh, yeah, sure. Thank you. Well, what do you mean, doctor? How does your wife stepfather fit into all this? Money, man. It's about the size of it. I don't know if you're aware of it, but my wife Louise was left a considerable amount of money by her. And? Uh-huh. Well, it was a fortune, as a matter of fact. Louise's stepfather's always been trying to get his hands on it. Excuse me again. Sure, go ahead. Well, you think your wife's stepfather is responsible for her disappearance. Is that right? Well, I'm not making any direct accusations, Sergeant. Two days ago, or two days before Louise disappeared, I had $80,000 in bonds signed over to her. Checked around since she's been gone, haven't been able to locate the bonds anywhere. You think she had the bonds with her when she left? I guess I'm sure of it. Pardon me just a moment. Yes, go ahead. I'm cast with sharp margins on it. Well, now, the $80,000 worth of bonds, Doctor, do you have any way of proving that you gave those to your wife? Well, certainly I have my wife signed receipt for them. You're welcome to check it over if you like. Uh-huh. Just how do you think your wife's stepfather figure's in there? Is there any indication he might have made a move to get the bonds? Not to satisfy me, yes. My secretary told me about it. Lenore Dexter, that's the girl in the reception room. Nowhere, huh? The night after my wife left me at the country club, that'd be December 10th. Dexter was at the airport waiting for a friend to arrive on a plane. While she was waiting, she saw my wife and her stepfather cross through the waiting room and go out toward the main gate. Your secretary's shirt was really your wife and her stepfather. Well, that's what she told me. You're certainly welcome to talk to her yourself in July. Yes, and well, besides the bonds, do you know of anything else of value that your wife had with her when she left? No, I don't think so. She had her fur coat on, of course. It's expensive. She was wearing a diamond ring, anniversary gift for me, lard, solitaire. Worth quite a bit of money. You can get the description from the jeweler. I'll give you his name. All right, doctor. Your wife's stepfather. We'd like to have his name and address, too. Surely I'll have my secretary check on both of them right now. All right, all right. Sergeant, you've got to find Louise. I've got to have her back with me. Well, we'll do everything we can, doctor. We promise you that. I know my wife wouldn't stay away. Her own free will, not this long, not at a time like this. How do you mean, sir? Well, let me show you. Here it is. This is the final drawing the architect made for us. What do you think of it? Oh, it's very nice. It certainly is. It's got to be our own building. 12 stories, finest in the city. Uh-huh. Robert A. Marston Building for professional men. Louise and I have looked forward to it for a long time. I understand. We settled on the final plans a week before she disappeared. Contractors will start construction a few weeks now. There's supposed to be a great day in our lives, laying the cornerstone. Yes, sir, I understand. Great day. Robert A. Marston Building. It's a funny thing, isn't it, officers? How's that? Nothing's very great unless there's somebody to share it with. Before we left the office of Dr. Robert Marston, we talked with his secretary, Miss Lenore Dexter. She confirmed the doctor's statement that on the night after Louise Marston had disappeared from the country club, she had seen both Mrs. Marston and her stepfather at the city's international airport. She said she did not follow them. She had no idea of their destination. Dr. Marston gave us the letters his wife had written him during her absence and also his wife's signed receipt for the $80,000 worth of bonds. Each of the letters was postmarked New York, and the dates on them ranged from December 15th to March 25th. Well, Ben and I drove back to the office and put in a call to the home of the missing woman's stepfather, Mr. William House. Then we went down the hall to the office of Don Meyer, our handwriting expert. We gave him the letters, which supposedly had been written by Mrs. Marston from New York, along with a signed receipt for the bonds and various other exemplars of her handwriting, which we had obtained from her bank. 2.50 p.m., the missing woman's stepfather, William House, arrived at the office. He was a tall, graying man. Dignified, well-dressed. It's about time the police started looking into this thing. How long does a person have to be missing before there's an investigation? The missing report was only filed yesterday, Mr. House. If you knew your stepdaughter was gone, why didn't you report it? I've had private detectives working on this for a month. Had them checking everything about the case. How much luck have they had? Frankly, not much. I still got them working on it. Well, getting back to what we have on hand, Mr. House, how about this statement of Dr. Marston's secretary? She says she saw you with Mrs. Marston at the international airport the night after she disappeared. It's a lie. I haven't been near that airport in six months. It's a lie and I can prove it. I don't know what Marston's up to, but he isn't going to get away with it. What do you mean by that? I think he's murdered Louise. I think he killed her and buried her somewhere. That's my honest opinion. You sound sure of it. I am sure of it. I knew Marston for what he was the day I met him. He's a fortune-hunter, pure and simple. He's after Louise's money and nothing's going to stop him. Nothing has stopped him. Well, I was under the impression that Dr. Marston was wealthy before he married your stepdaughter, isn't that right? Certainly not. He was just another poor dentist with a lot of big ideas. All this talk about putting up a building, naming it after himself. While Louise fought him on that constantly, he's some kind of crazy egotist. What about the $80,000 in bonds he says he signed over to Mrs. Marston? If he told you that, he's a bigger liar than I thought. Well, he gave us a receipt for the bonds. It was signed by his wife. Can you account for that? Frankly, no. Either he got her signature on it by some kind of trick or he forged it. I'm sure he never had that much money. Those bonds belong to Louise. What about the letters Dr. Marston got from his wife? You think they were forged, too? I'm positive they were. Don't you see, officer, it's the perfect cover-up for it. Well, one way or the other, it's not going to take as long to find out the truth. Our handwriting man's checking over the letters and the bond receipt now. Can you fill us in at all on Dr. Marston's background, Mr. House? Only since he's been connected with the family, since he married Louise. Say, would you give me a cigarette, please? I went off and left mine at home. Oh, sure. Here you are. Thank you. Thank you. I can't tell you how I feel about it, officer. I'm afraid of that man. I'm deathly afraid of him. I know he's done something terrible to Louise. Well, how can you be so sure of it, Mr. House? You must have some basis for your opinion. I just know that's all, Sergeant. If Louise had just disappeared and there wasn't any question of money involved, I wouldn't be so anxious about it. But $80,000 worth of bonds ought to be enough to tempt Marston to murder his own mother. You don't know him like I do. Well, what do you know about him, sir? He must be something concrete. I can tell you this much, officer. Marston's a man who is capable of murder. Now, I'm a sensible man. I don't walk up and down the street looking for murderers. But I know when we've got one in the family, that much you've got to believe. You will believe it. Well, sir, excuse me just a minute. I'll get that. Homicide Friday. Yeah, Don. All right? All of them? All right. Thank you, Don. A lot was our handwriting, man, Mr. House. Yeah? He just finished checking the writing in those letters and on the receipt for the bonds. What'd he say? Folgeries? No, sir. They're genuine. Every one of them. As soon as William House left the office, Ben and I began an immediate check of his whereabouts the night after his stepdaughter, Louise Marston, had disappeared. We talked to his friends and associates, members of the staff at the club where he lived. We found a dozen people who backed up House's claim that he was nowhere in the vicinity of the airport the night after Mrs. Marston dropped from sight. We went back and talked with Dr. Marston's secretary, Lenore Dexter. She still insisted that she had actually seen House at the airport with the missing woman. Dr. Marston and the stepfather continued to accuse each other of murder. At our request, repeated efforts were made by the New York police to locate Mrs. Marston. No luck. We checked and rechecked with the maid at the home of the missing woman. All she could tell us was that Louise Marston never returned home after leaving the country club and also that she'd been wearing a fur coat and an expensive diamond solitaire ring. A week passed and then two weeks. We stayed on it, but there wasn't much progress. The case of Louise Marston came to a virtual standstill Wednesday, February 24. Hi, Jill. Good morning. Anything new? Yeah, I think we gotta break the Marston case. Oh, what do you got? Maid out of Dr. Marston's home. She called first thing this morning. Said Dr. Marston had a little dinner party out there last night. What about it? One of the people there was Marston's secretary, that, uh, Lenore Dexter. Oh, yeah. She was wearing a large diamond ring. Yeah. Maid got a good look at the ring. Says it's the same one Mrs. Marston was wearing the night she disappeared. You are listening to Dragnet. Authentic cases from official police files. Now let's look at our Fatima files. Listed under B. Borden, Mrs. Clay Borden of Palm Springs in San Francisco. She says, pleasing, distinctive, and really extra mild. That's the way I'd describe Fatima. It's definitely the best long cigarette. Friends, more smokers now insist on Fatima than ever before. Because in Fatima, the difference is quality. Quality of tobaccos. The finest domestic and Turkish varieties. Extra mild, superbly blended. They 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. Manufactured in the newest and most modern of all cigarette factories. Quality, even to the appearance of the bright, clean, gold, and yellow package. Remember, Fatima gives you all the advantages of extra length, plus Fatima quality, which no other king-size cigarette has. So if you smoke a king-size cigarette, compare Fatima. You'll find they now cost the same. But your first puff will tell you, Ah, that's different. Yes, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Wednesday, February 24th, 9.15 a.m., Ben and I drove out to the home of Dr. Robert Marston and talked to the maid. She told us that on the previous evening, the doctor had had a small dinner party and that one of the guests was the doctor's secretary, Lenore Dexter. The maid told us that she'd gotten a close look at the diamond ring that Ms. Dexter was wearing and that she was sure it was the same ring that the doctor's wife, Louise Marston, had been wearing the night she disappeared. 10.20 a.m., we left the Marston house and headed downtown to the doctor's office in the medical dental building. The office was closed and locked. We got back in the car and drove out Sunset Boulevard to Lenore Dexter's home address. We found the secretary having breakfast alone in her two-room apartment. She explained that on Wednesdays, the doctor never opened his office before noon. We questioned her about the dinner party at the doctor's home the night before. We asked her about the diamond ring that she wore at the party. She became confused and hesitant. What about it, Ms. Dexter? Was that your diamond ring you were wearing at the dinner party? No, Sergeant, it wasn't. I guess it belongs to Dr. Marston, or did he give it to you as a present? No. You see, I guess the doctor had a few cocktails before dinner, maybe one too many. He went upstairs and came down with the ring. He insisted I wear it. He was very insistent. I didn't want to make a scene, so I put the ring on. I gave it back to the doctor just before we left the house. My boyfriend was with me at the party. He had a terrible argument over it. He's very jealous. Tell me, Ms. Dexter, did Dr. Marston have any spatial reason for wanting you to wear the ring? No. He said he liked me and I was pretty, and I thought I had pretty things. My boyfriend didn't like him at all. Why'd you ever see that particular diamond ring, Ms. Dexter? I mean, before last night? Well, I don't know, Sergeant. I think so. I'm not sure. Where do you think you saw the ring before? Mrs. Marston. I think I saw her wearing it once. Was she wearing it the night you were supposed to have seen her at the airport? I don't know what you mean. I didn't notice the ring, but I saw Mrs. Marston at the airport. I'd like to have you think this thing out for yourself, Ms. Dexter. Mrs. Marston's been gone for almost three months now, and there's a strong possibility that she might have been murdered. You can make up your own mind about it, Miss. If you're not involved in that disappearance, I'd advise you to tell us the truth. It might save you a lot of trouble. Ms. Dexter. You mean about my seeing Mr. House at the airport with a doctor's wife, but I have she disappeared? Yes, ma'am, that's right. You sure that's the truth? I didn't want to get involved, Sergeant. I didn't want any part of it. Didn't see Mrs. Marston and her stepfather at the airport that night that you made it all that? I didn't make it up, Sergeant. I swear I didn't. He told me what to say. He said to do it as a favor for him. Who's that, Miss? Dr. Marston. We continued to question the secretary, Lenora Dexter. She confessed that Dr. Marston had directed her to tell the story about seeing Louise Marston and her stepfather, William House, at the International Airport. It was all a complete lie. She said that Marston had explained that the whole thing was just a practical joke. That it didn't mean anything. When Mrs. Marston was officially reported missing, she thought of going to the police, but Marston had frightened her out of taking any such action. The only other suspicious thing she could recall about Mrs. Marston's disappearance was a conversation between the doctor and his architect, Mr. Harold Whitmore. He was the architect who had planned and designed the projected Robert A. Marston building for a professional man. Well, the secretary told us the doctor's conversation with the architect had taken place about a month before Mrs. Marston's disappearance. And that she'd heard the doctor mention to the architect something about New York and a packet of letters. Lenora Dexter was taken downtown where she gave us a complete sign statement. Ben and I got in the car and drove to the offices of architect Harold Whitmore over on South Hope Street. He was a tall, floored-faced man, very cooperative. Yeah, I remember that conversation with Dr. Marston. He gave me a bunch of letters, at least a couple of dozen anyway. They were addressed to the doctor and his little boy Stanley. What do you want to do with the letters, Mr. Whitmore? He asked me if I had any friends in New York, and I said I did. Then he said he was playing some kind of practical joke on his wife and son. He gave me the letters and asked me if I'd send them to a friend in New York and have him mail them back one at a time. You agreed to do that? Yeah, that's right. The letters were all sealed and stamped all in order the way they were supposed to be mailed. I just sent them back to this friend of mine, Bob Rogers, in New York. I forgot all about it. Mr. Whitmore, how long have you known Dr. Marston? Very long? No, not too long, only in a business way. He wants to put up this office building of his and I'm handling the job for him. He's sure nuts on this subject. Can't wait until we start construction on the job. You think his life depended on it? You know much about his personal life. What'd you first mean? See, I think it was around October of last year. You and Mrs. Marston were building a summer place down at Malibu, and I helped out with the plans. The doctor was always hanging around there, helping out with the work whenever he could. That's the only previous contact that you had with him, huh? That's about all, you know, building a beach house. Dr. Marston thought he had some new ideas about building a new type basement in the place. That's all? Yeah, not a bad job on a seller for an amateur. Used enough cement on it to sink a battleship. Oh, just a second, Mr. Whitmore. Did Dr. Marston cement in the basement while the house was being built? No, no. About a couple of months later, around the middle of December, I think. Do you remember the date exactly when he did the cement work? Not exactly. About 12th to 13th of December, I think. Yeah, right after his wife disappeared. Wednesday, February 24th, 1.30 p.m. Ben and I picked up Dr. Robert Marston and brought him downtown to the office. We questioned him for an hour and informed him of the evidence against him. Despite the statement of architect Harold Whitmore, the doctor insisted he was innocent of any crime connected with the disappearance of his wife. We contacted the New York Police Department and asked them to check on architect Whitmore's friend, Robert E. Rogers. A special detail of men was dispatched to the summer home at Malibu to see what they could find. Half an hour later, Dr. Robert Marston was placed in a car and Ben and I drove him to the Malibu home. We continued questioning him during the drive, but he refused to make a statement of any kind. On our arrival at the beach cottage, we found Marston's young son, Stanley, together with the maid and the family butler. We took Dr. Marston downstairs to the basement. The man had a large section of the cement flooring ripped up. They were digging. In the room up above, we could hear young Stanley Marston playing on a toy harmonica. I'd like to know something, Sergeant, just for my information. Yes, sir? Why do you think I'd kill my wife? Why do you think I'd do such a thing? We're not sure yet if you did kill her. Then why do you have these men doing this? Digging up the whole basement. Why do you think I killed her? You won't find anything. You might as well tell them to stop now. They won't find anything. I explained everything to you. Why can't you take my word for it? You still haven't explained about those letters while you had them sent to New York? While you had them mailed back here one at a time? You've got nothing to do with it. Why can't you believe me? Your wife didn't disappear without a reason, Doctor. We'd like to know what the reason is. I told you. I told you it doesn't time's over. You know what happened. We were at the country club. Louise and I, she was drinking a lot. I told her to lay off. We had an argument. She walked out. That's all. She walked out. I didn't see her anymore. Yes, sir. We'll have it all worked out. Don't worry about it. Why can't that maid look after the boy up there, making all that noise? Why can't you take him out somewhere down at the beach? Romero? Yeah? See you in a minute. Oh, yeah, all right. Sergeant, what do you want me to say? What's that? They've found her. You know that. Louise, right where I buried her. What do you want me to say? Well, that's up to you. Yes, you wouldn't understand, would you, Sergeant? The only thing I ever wanted in my life, she wouldn't let me have it. The building. Robert A. Marston building. For professional men. You mean your wife wouldn't give you the money for it? That's why you quarreled, is that it? I tried to tell her. One fight after another. She didn't know how much it meant to me. And that's why you killed her, huh? I followed her outside the country club that night, drove her to my office. She was pretty drunk. We pretended she was on a trip to New York. I had her write the letters. Had her sign the receipt for the bonds. Wasn't hard to do. How'd you kill her? Put my hands around her throat. Didn't stop until she was dead. Joe? Yeah, man. Thanks for having me. You ready to go, Doctor? All right. There's a dream of a lifetime, Sergeant. I almost had it. The Robert A. Marston building. Finest in the city. Yeah. You want to come upstairs, Doctor? We'll get you a coat. You'll try to understand, won't you? I wanted something that would last. My own building. My name on it. Something you'd remember. Yeah. That's the reason I killed Louise. She didn't want me to have it. My own building. Something that would last. Make the people remember. Well, you made it, Doctor. Why worry? Why? You don't need a building. I'll remember you. The story you've just heard was true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. On June 3rd, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 87, 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. Friends, our latest sales figures indicate that Fatima is undoubtedly the fastest growing long cigarette in the country. I'm sure you'll agree that there must be a sound reason for Fatima's ever-increasing popularity. Well, to my way of thinking, that reason can be summed up in just two words. Fatima quality. You'll spot it instantly. Fatima gives you all the advantages of extra length plus Fatima quality, which no other king-size cigarette has. So tomorrow, buy a pack of Fatimas and prove to yourself that the difference is quality. Robert Alexander Marston was charged with murder in the first degree. Ten days after his trial opened in Superior Court, the suspect took his own life in his jail cell by hanging. 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. Fatima's cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet transcribed from Los Angeles. Stay tuned for Counter-Spy next over most NBC stations.