 Sound off for Chesterfield. Chesterfield, the only cigarette in America to give you premium quality in both regular and king size, brings you drag net. Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned a homicide detail. You get a call that the body of a dead woman has been found in a closet. There are no leads to her identification. The identity of the killer is unknown. Your job? Investigate. Here's what a leading tobacco publication and the nation's press have had to say about king-size Chesterfields. Tobacco leaf. More calls for Chesterfield king-size cigarettes than for most brands being marketed. And the Cleveland Press reported, dealers everywhere report the big-pack sale phenomenal. Last week in Cleveland, some areas reported the long-size Chesterfield outsold all other brands. The reason for king-size Chesterfield's amazing success is this. All king-size cigarettes give you quantity, but only Chesterfield king-size gives you quantity plus quality, premium quality. That means Chesterfield king-size contains tobaccos of better quality and higher price than any other king-size cigarette. The same fine tobacco as in regular Chesterfield. Enough more of this tobacco to give you more than a one-fifth longer smoke. So remember, Chesterfield is the only cigarette to give you premium quality in both regular and king-size. Buy them either way you like them. Chesterfield gives you the best possible smoke. Much milder. 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 Thursday, April 17th. It was warm in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out a homicide detail. My partner's Frank Smith, the boss's Thad Brown chief of detectives. My name's Friday. It was 11.36 a.m. when we got to the Greenleaf apartment hotel. Apartment 406. Yes. Police officers, ma'am? Oh, yes. Come in. Thank you. This is my partner Frank Smith. My name's Friday. How do you do? How do you do, ma'am? I'm Rain Holden. I'm the one who called you. Terrible thing. Just terrible. Yes, Miss Holden. If you just tell us what happened, if you could. Well, Georgia, she's made. Well, Georgia was cleaning up in here. She finished the apartment and then she thought she'd check the coat closet right here. She opened the door and there she was on the floor. Ma'am? Dead woman. You can see for yourself. She's right there on the floor. Just terrible. Where is this Georgia now, Mrs. Holden? She's downstairs in my place. She's pretty broken up. Must have been a terrible shock to her. She let out a scream that must have had half the neighborhood on edge. I lived down on the second floor in the rear. I thought at first it's something that happened to Georgia. Oh, that girl's got a powerful set of lungs. Yes, ma'am. Who rented this apartment from you? I knew you'd ask that. I've got the receipt book right here in my apron. Just a minute. I put a pencil on the page. Let's see. Yes, it is. Raymond Bartley. That's what he said. Bartley. You know where this Bartley is now? No, I don't. And that's another weird one. You know what I mean. Ma'am? Well, look in the closets. Look around the places. None of his clothes. Nothing to even tell you he was still here. He's got another week to go on his rent. How's that, ma'am? Well, moved in a week ago. You can see here in the receipt, Wednesday, April 9th. Paid me two weeks in advance. And you look around this place and it don't look like he's going to be around here anymore. Do you have any idea where he might be? Not the slightest. Better give you any indication that he was planning to move out? Not the slightest. No, sir. I don't even have an inkling. I'll call the coroner, John. Okay. Let her get in touch with the crime lab, too. Have them come out. Okay. Remind if I use the phone, Mrs. Halden? Not at all. It's right there back in the hall. A little shelf on the wall. Thank you, ma'am. You think Mr. Bartley did it? You think he killed a woman? Well, we don't know, ma'am. Did Mr. Bartley rent this room by himself? What? I don't understand. Well, did he register as Mr. and Mrs? Oh, no, sir. Just plain Raymond Bartley. Do you have any idea who the woman might be? Oh, not the slightest. I never saw her before Georgia screamed and ran in here. Did you touch anything at all in the room here? No. No, I know how policemen work. I've heard all about that. Don't touch anything, department. No, sir. I didn't touch anything. Uh-huh. They're on the way, Joe. Mrs. Halden, have you ever seen the woman before? No, sir. I haven't never saw her before. Just took a quick glance. Terrible, just terrible what they did. I wonder if you could give us a description of Mr. Bartley. Well, that'd be kind of hard. Like I said, I don't pay a lot of attention to the people who live here. I just collect the rents and let it go with that. Once in a while when Georgia's sick, I come in and clean up. Those times I talk to them a little bit, but I'm not the nosy type. You know what I mean. Could you tell us about how tall Bartley is? Well, I have to think about that, too. I guess he was about as tall as you. Maybe a little one way or the other. How much would you say weighed? Well, he was kind of a heavy-set little man. I guess he weighs about as much as my husband. That'll be 200 or so. How about his coloring? Would you know? Well, there it goes again. I tell you, officers, I can't tell you too good. Mr. Bartley was kind of a crowd-melter. How big apart? A crowd-melter. You know, you put him in a crowd and he just melts away. You never pay any attention to him. You know what I mean? Yes, ma'am. And as I can remember, he had kind of brown hair and blue eyes, I guess. Was there anything peculiar about him? Did he have any scars? Any marks? Anything at all about him that'd make you remember him? Make him a little easier to... No, no, nothing. How about the way you talk? Could you tell where he was from? No, he's just kind of an ordinary man, nothing special. When was the last time you saw Mr. Bartley? Well, let me see now. I think it was, um... Yes, Monday night. He was coming in. I was just coming back from the grocery. It was about, uh, oh, six, six-fifteen. I said hello and then he said the same hello. Then he went on upstairs and I went to my apartment. That was the last time. Did Mr. Bartley have any close friends in the building, you know? No, nothing I can think of. Well, did he ever say where he worked? What he did for a living? No, nothing I remember. Well, how about references? Did he have any? No, I didn't ask for any. You know, if he drove a car? It seems so stupid. Seems like I don't know the answers to any of your questions. I don't know about if he drove a car or not. We don't have any garages in the building. He might have, but I wouldn't know it. I just didn't pay any attention. You know what I mean. Oh, did he get any mail while he was here? Would you know that? No, sir, not a thing. We'd like to talk to Georgia if we could. Sure, I'll ask her to come up here. Poor thing's so upset. It's terrible. It's the first time anything like this has happened to me. First time anything like this has happened in the place. I don't understand it. I never bothered the tenants. Never caused them any trouble. I don't even know this Bartley. Why do you have to do a thing like this to me? Why me? I don't know, ma'am. Why her? The crime lab crew got there and went over the apartment. Photographs were taken of the room and of the position of the body. In going over the room, the crime lab came up with a probable murder weapon. A cast-iron poker standing in the fireplace rack. Brown hair, similar to the victims, was found clinging to the metal. Dean Bergman lifted several partial and some full fingerprints from around the apartment and from the poker itself. He compared them with fingerprints of the maid and eliminated her as a suspect. He rolled the prints of the dead woman. Hers were eliminated from those found in the apartment. We talked to the maid and got the same story that we'd been given by Mrs. Halden. She was unable to add any information to what we already had. We talked to the neighbors in the building. None of them had had any dealings with the missing Ray Bartley. The woman in the apartment next to his told us that on the previous night, at about 10.45, she'd heard a woman's voice and a loud argument coming from the murder apartment. But she said she hadn't paid any attention to it. 2.42 p.m. Frank and I checked back into the office. I'll call Bergman and see if he was able to identify the woman or make the other prints. Yeah, all right. I hope he's doing some good. Yeah. Dean Bergman, please. Hi, Dean. Frank Smith. You've been able to make those prints yet? How about the ones in the poker? Yeah. That's the way it goes, huh? Uh-huh. Right. Nothing on either of the women's or the ones he lifted from the poker. He's sending them both on to Washington to see if they have anything. Anything on him and R and I? Well, I called down there. They're checking them. Now I can't understand it. What's that? Well, how you can rent an apartment to somebody and not know what he looks like. Like you said, the manager's probably mind's your own business. Yeah, well, I get it. Homicide Friday. Oh, yeah, like... How about laundry marks? Uh-huh. Yeah, how about the poker? Yeah. No, well, that figure's done it. Yeah. Okay, Lee, thanks a lot. Anything? Well, he's pretty sure the poker was the murder weapon. Anything to identify the woman? No, not a thing. Whoever did this sure knew what he was doing. Removed everything that could possibly tell us who she was. That puts us in a good position. An unidentified body and an unknown killer. The report came back from R and I. There was nothing in the records on a rape bodily of that description. Three other teams of men were assigned to assist in the investigation. We talked with everybody in the neighborhood around the apartment building. None of the storekeepers had noticed the missing man. None of them could give us any further information. An APB was gotten out carrying the name and description that we'd obtained. An APB was also gotten out on the dead woman. We checked with missing persons detail for a possible missing report on the victim. They said they'd let us know. The newspapers gave us their help and in the following editions they carried pictures of the woman and requested that anyone knowing her identity should contact the police department immediately. Two days passed. During this time several people came in and said that they were sure that they knew the dead woman but they were unable to identify. Other leads were checked out but let us know where. The manager in the maid came in and went through the mug books. No results. Monday, April 21st, 9 27 a.m. Righty? Yeah. Oh, hi, John. Hi, Frank. Hi, darling. You guys getting anywhere in this closet murder? No, not a thing. Well, I got a hunch. Maybe it won't go anywhere but I thought you guys might want to check it out. What's that? A recent report from San Francisco a couple of weeks ago. A man up there said that his wife had come down here to see her sister. He said she never showed up. Yeah. We went out and talked to the sister. At the time she wasn't too cooperative, you know, like she knew where her sister was all the time. I checked this description on the APB. Seems to me to match the description we got from both the husband and the sister. Yeah. Like I said, it's just a hunch but I thought you might talk to this woman. Might be able to come up with something. What's her name? Let's see. Allard, Mara Allard lives out in Hollywood Boulevard. You talk to her. See if you don't come up with the same thing we did. Yeah, what's that? She doesn't care if her sister's dead or alive. Frank and I drove out to see Mrs. Mara Allard. She told us that her sister had written and said that she'd be down for a visit. On the day that she was supposed to arrive, the sister had phoned and told Mrs. Allard that she wouldn't be out that day but that she'd met some friends on the train and that they were all going out on a sightseeing tour of the city. In talking to her, we got the same impression that she'd given John St. John of missing persons detail. We asked her if she'd go with us to see if the dead woman might be her sister. At first she appeared reluctant but when we gave her a full description of the body she agreed to accompany us. She looked at the dead woman and burst into tears. Half an hour later after she recovered from the shock, we talked to her in the interrogation room at the city hall. It's Alice. There's no doubt about it. It's just terrible. My own sister dead. If you'd try to take it easy. Would you like another glass of water, Miss Allard? No, thank you. It's not just finding your dad. I guess I always knew that Alice would end up like this. I never wanted it this way, but I always knew it in my heart. How's that, ma'am? Well, to understand that, you'd have to know Alice. She was a beautiful girl, a wonderful person. You said that you heard from Alice when she got here and now I isn't right. That's right. She called right after she got off the train. What'd she say to you then? Well, as I told you, she said that she'd met some friends on the train and that they were going out to see the town. Did she say who these friends were? No, just said that they were going to pick up Ray and then go out in the town. Ray? Yes, Ray Fletcher. I tried to call him when Alice didn't show up, but there wasn't any answer to his apartment. Where does he live, ma'am? Out in Hollywood. I think it's on the soma someplace. I have the address. Who is this Fletcher? Well, that's something I'm not very proud of. Well, why is that, ma'am? He's a friend of my husband. Well, not really a friend in the real sense of the word. Sort of an acquaintance. Well, why do you say that you're not very proud of us, ma'am? I don't understand. Well, I sort of feel that it's all my fault. Well, I still don't really understand, ma'am. The divorce. Alice and Tom were on the verge of separating. Tom said that he'd come to just about the end of the line. Alice told me that they used to have terrible fights. And when she was down here one time, let me see, I think it was about three months ago, she was terribly depressed, said that she and Tom had been fighting for several weeks. A couple of times he'd hit her. I can't understand it, I really can't. I told Alice I didn't believe it. Yes, ma'am. She showed me the bruises all across her back and shoulders. She said that one night they were going over the bills and Tom just seemed to go crazy. He started to rant and rave about how much they were in debt. Of course I knew why I told Alice so. I said that it was her fault for driving him, always asking for something new, something else. She said that she told Tom that if he couldn't afford to keep it the way she wanted to live, that then she'd just have to find somebody who could. That's when he hit her. She left that night to come down here. Terrible. I don't agree with her, but I don't think any man has the right to hit a woman. Yes, ma'am. Well, she moped around the house for a couple of days. Said about how she was never going back to him. I felt kind of sorry for her, even though I don't agree with her. After all, she was my sister. Yes, ma'am, I understand. Well, that night my husband came home and he brought this Ray Fletcher with him. Met him down at the office. How about what you say, ma'am? Down at the office. Ray works with the same company. He's a steward on the ship that travels up the coast from here to Washington. Anyway, my husband brought him home for dinner. Ray said that we should all go out to eat, so we did. Had dinner and a few drinks, and then Ray brought us home. And he and Alice went on. Alice didn't get into almost 3.30 in the morning. I see. That night Ray was here again. You and Alice went out that night and for the next four nights in a row, every night out until all hours. I finally had a talk with her about it. I didn't think Tom would like it. I wouldn't have her doing things like that while she was under my roof. That's when she told me that she was going to divorce Tom. That she and Ray were going to get married. I told her I thought she was crazy. She didn't know what she was doing, but there wasn't any talking to her. She saw Ray every day. Then she went back up north to get things straightened out. I see. Well, did she follow through with her divorce plan? Well, as far as I know she did. She wrote me and said that she talked to Tom about it and that they reached an agreement that he'd let her have her freedom. How did he seem to take all this? He called me one night and asked if I knew why Alice was leaving him. I didn't know about Ray. I told him all about it before. I thought that maybe Alice hadn't said anything about it. What was his reaction to it? I almost went crazy on the phone. Tom's a real jealous man. If he could have gotten through the phone wires, I think he'd have taken my head off. He screamed that I'd influenced his wife, that it was all my fault. Why didn't you tell the officers from missing persons all of this when they were out there, ma'am? I didn't want my husband to know about it. Then too, I thought that it might be better if Tom didn't know where Alice was. But what he said I thought would be better if he never saw her again. What's that, ma'am? That night, we had the argument on the phone. He said that she'd never leave him. He'd see her dead first. The description of Ray Fletcher, Mrs. Allard, had given us tallied closely with that of Raymond Bartley. She also gave us his address and phone number. It was an apartment house in the southwest section of the city. Frank and I drove over, but found that he'd moved and left no forwarding address. We checked the apartment, but it had since been cleaned and occupied. Again, we ran into the same problem. No one could give us any information as to his whereabouts. We went back to the city hall and ran the name Ray Fletcher through R&I. There was no record on anyone answering his description. We contacted the shipping line where he was employed, and they told us that they'd pull his employment record out of the files and call us back. We contacted the San Francisco Police Department, gave them the full details of the case, and had them check on the movements of the victim's husband, Tom Hudson, as a possible suspect. 4.52 p.m. Frank and I checked back into the city hall. Hudson sure got a motive. Yeah, we'll know more when we hear from the San Francisco Department. Here we go. I'll check the book. Right. Anything? Yeah, there's a message from the shipping company Fletcher works for. He wants us to give him a call. Okay, what's the number? You got it there? Yeah, Hollywood 26709. Okay, I'll call it. Hollywood 26709. Yeah, ask for Mr. August. August. Mr. August, please. So my name's Friday, Los Angeles Police Department. Oh, Police Department, yes, ma'am. Yes, he asked me to call. Mr. August is Sergeant Friday. You asked me to call you? Yes, sir, that's right, Rayman Fletcher. Hmm? When was it? Yes, sir. Well, thank you very much, sir. If you think of anything else, we'd appreciate a call. Yes, sir, Michigan 5211. Right, homicide, huh? Right, thank you, sir. Bye. Well, we're doing real well. What do you mean? Fletcher sailed for Canada this morning. You are listening to Dragnet, the authentic story of your police force in action. These are the reasons thousands are changing to Chesterfield and why you should change to Chesterfield. Only Chesterfield gives you premium quality in both regular and king size. Only Chesterfield names all its ingredients. And only Chesterfield gives you scientific facts in support of smoking. First, such report ever published about any cigarette. A responsible consulting organization reports a study by a competent medical specialist and staff on the effects of smoking Chesterfields. For six months, a group of men and women smoked only Chesterfield, 10 to 40 a day their normal amount. 45% of the group of smoked Chesterfields from one to 30 years for an average of 10 years each. At the beginning and end of the six months, each smoker was given a thorough examination, including x-rays and covering the sinuses, nose, ears, and throat. After the examinations, the medical specialist stated, it is my opinion that the ears, nose, throat, and accessory organs of all participating subjects examined by me were not adversely affected in the six months period by smoking the cigarettes provided. Of course, these cigarettes were Chesterfields. Remember this report and buy Chesterfields. Either way, you'll like them, regular or king size. Premium quality Chesterfield and much milder. We contacted the San Pedro office of the shipping company and made sure that Fletcher was on board the ship when it had sailed. The management of the shipping line told us that it'd take about 24 hours before the tanker would make its first stop at San Francisco. We got in touch with the San Francisco police department and talked to Inspector Charles Sutton. He told us that they'd place a stake out where the ship was due to dock and that they would await our arrival. At the same time, Sutton told us that they had conducted an investigation of the dead woman's husband, Tom Hudson, and as far as they could find out, he didn't have the opportunity to kill his wife. They said that the records of the steel mill where he worked showed that he'd been on the job every day for the past month and a half. Questioning of his neighbors showed that he'd spent his time off working around the house and was seen each evening. Inspector Sutton stated that when Tom Hudson was told of his wife's death, he broke down and said that although there had been some talk of divorce, none of it had really been serious. And that this trip that his wife had taken to Los Angeles was to straighten things out with Fletcher. Sutton flew down to Los Angeles and gave a positive identification of the body. We got in touch with the captain of the ship that Fletcher was on and filled him in on what had happened. He told us that he'd placed the man under arrest and hold him in the ship's break for us when they docked at San Francisco. Tuesday morning, 7.30 a.m., Frank and I checked out and flew up to San Francisco. We met with Inspector Sutton and Inspector Jules Zimmerman. They told us that the ship was expected to dock the following morning at 10.36 a.m. We were waiting when the gang plank was lowered. You're the officers? Yes, sir. I'm Inspector Sutton, San Francisco police department. Here are my credentials. These are detectives Joe Friday and Frank Smith. They're from Los Angeles. Oh, yeah. You're the ones I talked to. I'm Captain Jackson. How you doing, Captain? Down the break. He's been there since I got your message. I wonder if we could see him. Yeah, sure. We can go down this way. All right, bye. You sure Fletcher's the man you want? Well, we're not sure, sir. It looks that way. I don't believe. Why is that, sir? Well, Fletcher's been with us for several years. Good man, hard worker. I know he's been studying for his papers. He wanted to be an engineer. I used to go by his room late at night on my way to the bridge. He'd be there reading and working on the papers. It sure is hard to believe. Here we go through here. Yes, sir. Of course, I knew something had to be wrong. Sir? Once in a while he used to get together with Fletcher on shore. We'd talk about what he was studying. I'd try to help him with his seamanship. This trip I called him. I'd met an engineer that I thought Fletcher would like to talk to. I'd known a guy for years just back from the Orient. Anyway, I called Fletcher. He told me he'd moved out and hadn't left any forwarding address. Uh-huh. I didn't hear from him at all. Then he called me. He wanted to know if he could stay at my place for a few days. He said he had some trouble at the new place. He was living landlady giving him a bad time. Uh-huh. You say where he'd been staying? Yeah, the broadleaf, something like that. Could it be the greenleaf, sir? Yeah, that said greenleaf. He said the landlady was a real prune, called her a miserable woman. Oh, Fletcher looked as if he'd been tying one on for about a week when he checked into my place. His clothes were a mess. Come on, it's down here. Okay, fine. When I told Fletcher about this, he was real arrogant. Said he didn't want to talk to anyone. Never seen him run like this before. Yeah. All right, Fletcher. Police officers are here. Come on out. Come on, Fletcher. Let's go. No, I'll go in. How about it, Joe? Room's empty. A blockade of the dock area was set up immediately in the event Fletcher had escaped from the ship. All officers in the area began a search. The search of the ship was started. A check of Fletcher's cabin turned up several letters from Alice Hudson. In the letter, she told Fletcher that she was going back to her husband. We talked to the members of the crew who had been in the vicinity of the bridge. From one of them, we found that Fletcher had been in custody as the ship entered the harbor. On the floor of the bridge, we found a small strip of metal that Fletcher had used to pick the lock of the door. The search of the ship went on. 11.47 a.m. One of the seamen found Fletcher's coat on the forward part of the deck. It had been wedged in behind a lifeboat shot. The search of the dock netted us nothing. All we could assume was that Fletcher'd escaped from the break, jumped overboard, and then tried to swim to shore. Inspector Sutton got in touch with Captain Cornelius Murphy, skipper of police boat DA White. Captain Murphy and his crew began a search of the bay from the dock area to Lanzan. All police officers in the bay area were notified of the escape. Captain Jackson furnished this with a good snapshot of Fletcher. Seven hours passed. The search continued. Apparently, Fletcher had made good his escape. Wednesday morning, April 23rd, we got a report from an officer in the search party that the body of a man answering Fletcher's description had been found out near Seal Rocks near the Golden Gate. Sutton, Zimmerman, Frank, and I drove out to Lanzan. We got out of the car and walked the rest of the way. Watch your step, Frank. Yeah. Every time one of those waves breaks, it makes us ledge like glass. Sutton? Yeah, Joe. You see anything yet? No. Wait a minute. I'll see if I can yell to Zimmerman. He can see it from there. Maybe he can tell us if we're getting close. Yeah. Zimmerman, how are we doing? You hear what he's saying? No, a wave is carrying his voice away. He's waving his arms, pointing down below us. Now, wait a minute. Watch it, Joe. It's a long way down. Yeah, you don't have to tell me. See anything? A little after this next wave break. There he is. You see? Wedged in down here. Yeah. Looks like him. Hard to be sure with all this water, though. Yeah, I'll go down a little further. Take it easy, Joe. Yeah. Take a minute. Watch it. I'm all right. How about it? Yeah. It's flexured. I'd better get the crew up here and pull them out. Yeah. Must have been carried this far with the current, huh? Yeah, that's right, Joe. They get mean this time of the year. Well, that does it. Yeah, it looks that way. What's the matter, Joe? I was just thinking. Yeah? A rough way to die, isn't it? Sure is. You'd think he'd have known, wouldn't you, Joe, about those currents out there from Alcatraz to Angel Island, some of the meanest currents in the world out there. Yeah, I know. You'd think a guy like Fletcher would have known better. Working on a ship, he should have known about that water. Well, maybe he did. The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On April 23rd, an examination was held in the office of the coroner of the city and county of San Francisco. In a moment, the results of that examination. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Phenomen. Friends, I just want to leave you with one thought tonight. Chesterfield is the first cigarette to give you scientific facts in support of smoking. Remember the study made by a competent medical specialist and staff. They examined a group of people who smoked only Chesterfields. After the examinations, the medical specialist stated, quote, it is my opinion that the ears, nose, throat, and accessory organs of all participating subjects examined by me were not adversely affected in the six months period by smoking the cigarettes provided, end of quote. Of course, these cigarettes were Chesterfield. Remember these facts and buy Chesterfields, either way you like them, regular or king size, premium quality Chesterfields, and much milder. Upon completion of the autopsy, the body was identified as Raymond S. Fletcher. The identification was made by his personal effects, fingerprints, and the personal identification of Captain James R. Jackson. Further investigation showed that the suspect had rented the apartment where the body was found and that he was guilty of the murder of Alice Hudson. His fingerprints were checked and found to be the same as those on the murder weapon. 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 Wynne, Sergeant Vance Brasher. Heard tonight were Ben Alexander, June Whitley, Peter Leeds. Script by John Robinson. Music by Walter Schumann. Hell, give me speaking. Sound off for Chesterfields. Either way you like them, regular or king size, Chesterfield gives you the best possible smoke. Much milder Chesterfield. Chesterfield has brought to Dragnet transcribed from Los Angeles.