 The story you're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Dragment. Detective Sergeant, you're assigned to hit and run felony detail. A young woman has been run down and seriously injured. The driver of the car has fled from the scene. Your job, find him. It was Tuesday, April 7th. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of Traffic Bureau. Hit and run felony detail. My partner's Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Calvi. My name's Friday. We're on our way out from the office. It was 840 a.m. when we got to 1784 Byrum Street. Front door. Better try it again, huh? Leonard, sounds like somebody coming. Yeah, something you want? Miss Hunter? That's right. Who you want? Police officers. We'd like to talk to you. Oh, about the thing last night, huh? Yes, ma'am, that's right. Well, come on in. I can't stand around for long. I'm going to be late for work as it is. Come on. Thank you. Miss my partner, Frank Smith. My name's Friday. How do you do? Hi. Sit down there. I got to get ready to leave. There's some coffee there in the craft if you want. No, thank you. No, ma'am, thank you. Would you mind pouring me a cup? You'll find everything right there on the table. Two sugars. All right. I know about last night. I told the officers who were there. Oh, I know. Yes, ma'am. We know. We read their report. We'd like to go over with you. It's all right. Seems like a waste of time for me. Then a little more of it, trying to catch the kid that hit the girl. It'd be better all the way around. There's your coffee. Look, the war. Either one of you got a cigarette? That's very, very hard. Here's the light. What do you want to go over? Well, according to what you said to the officers last night, you saw the accident, right? I saw it, yeah. I don't think it was an accident. If you ask me, I think the kid deliberately hit the girl deliberately. Why do you say that? Well, just the way it looked, that's all. Kind of a feeling. Wade came barreling around the corner. He must have seen her. She was right under the light. Didn't even make an attempt to stop. None at all. I saw the girl step off the curb. Right under the light, he had to see her head too. Anyway, she stepped off the curb and started to cross the street. Her and me saw her. She started to cross and then all of a sudden, this kid in the hot rod was coming right at her. Wasn't anything she could do. Yes, ma'am. She kind of looked up at the car and then, well, like she was going to run. But she didn't have time. The car hit her and knocked her down. Did you get a good look at the car? You mean no one to hit her? Yes, ma'am. You bet I did. Passed right under the light, got a real good look at it. Wonder if you describe it for us. I told the cops all about it last night. Seems like that'd be enough. Why do I have to go through it again? Well, it might be something you didn't think of last night. It's something you might have forgotten. It isn't likely, but if you've got to have it, I guess that's the way it's got to be. Hope we can get it over with fast enough. I've got to get down to the corner so I won't miss my bus. Well, if it'd help, we can drive you to work. You can give us the information on the way. Well, that'll be fine. Wait a minute, I'll get my coat. Look when you came in. Ma'am. Did it look like it was going to rain? No, it's pretty cold, though. The paper said it might rain today. Well, better take an umbrella. What kind of a car was it, Miss Hunter? A hot rod. You know the kind, real low, too exhaust pipes kind of beat up. Well, what kind of a car was it, the brand name? Well, I guess it was a Ford. It looked like one. Hard to tell, it was kind of banged up, you know. I don't know why the police allowed cars like that on the streets anyway. It couldn't be very safe. Can you tell us what year the car was? Well, I'm not real good at that, but I'd say maybe in 1940. It might have been 1941. It's a free war car, though, aren't you sure that? Oh, yeah, I'm sure of that, huh? How about you get in, ma'am? Okay, thanks. All right, ma'am. Where can we drop you, ma'am? Well, there first and Broadway will be fine, just on the corner there. Okay. Miss Hunter, was there anything about the car that would make it easier to identify? Not especially. Blacks, Ford, all beat up. I'm sure I'd know it if I saw it again, anyplace. Did you get a good look at the driver of the car? No, not too good. All I could see was that he was a kid, you know, maybe 19, 20 years old. You'd like to see a get-back kid. Is the girl all right? She looked pretty bad last night. No, she's still in a critical condition. Doctors aren't sure yet whether she'll be all right. I sure hope she is. Have you talked to her? No, we haven't, not yet. That's a terrible thing. A kid like that running around in hot rods, barreling around the city, curtain's not safe on the streets anymore. Well, just because a car's got twin tailpipes, Miss Hunter, doesn't have to be a hot rod. Well, this one was. He even had the little sort of license plate hanging down from the back bumper. You mean a state license plate? No, one of those are the club name on it. You know the car. There's not a notation to that on the report that we remember. I guess I forgot all the excitement at all. I must have forgot. Well, did you see the name on that plate? Yeah. Not real good, but I saw it. Think you can remember it? Not all of it. The last part was wheels. Something wheels. Two words. You're pretty sure that, are you? Yeah, wheels. That's the word I saw. I didn't remember it last night. I guess it didn't seem important then. Must be a lot of cars that have those plates on them all over town. Yes, we know. Don't seem like it's going to help much. A lot of cars with those plates on them are tough. Yes, ma'am. Even if you do find the kid with one of them, how are you going to know if he's the right one? Well, that's not going to be too hard. Huh? His car will tell us. According to the report, an automobile driven by one male occupant had struck a woman while she crossed the intersection of Olympic Boulevard and Connecticut Street the night before. When the ambulance arrived at the scene, the victim, who was identified as Mrs. Helen Chapman, was unconscious and was removed to Georgia Street receiving hospital for emergency treatment. Members of the crime lab had arrived at the scene and gathered what physical evidence they could find. All citizens in the vicinity were interrogated and their statements were taken. Photographs of the corner were made and held for evidence. Because of the hit-and-run aspect of the case, Frank and I had been assigned to investigate it. At 1.14 p.m., we drove over to Georgia Street receiving hospital to talk to the attending physician, Dr. Sebastian. He said the patient's condition was so critical that she couldn't be moved to her own hospital. He told us that the victim hadn't recovered consciousness after the point where she could be questioned. He went on to tell us that she'd been administered serum alveolumine to counteract shock. He listed her injuries for us. Pound-pound fractures of the femur, rib fractures and associated internal injuries including a punctured lung and brain concussion. It was not expected that she'd live. Frank and I left the doctor and walked down the hall. In the waiting room, we met a tall, thin man who looked as if he hadn't slept in several days. On the floor in front of him was a small pile of half-smoked cigarettes. He identified himself as the victim's husband, and I didn't know I came home from work to tell me about it. I didn't even know. Didn't they try to call you at work? No, I guess they called the house. There wasn't anybody home. I just walked up the door, and there was a note telling me to call there. Didn't even know about Helen. I see. You like the cigarette, Chapman? Thanks. You talk to the doctor? Yes, sir. We just did. Is there anything new? Is she going to be all right? Well, I don't know yet. You can ask the doctor yourself. Why don't anybody tell me anything? All the time I ask how my wife is, they tell me to ask the doctor. Why won't they tell me? I don't know, sir. I can't even find out if she needs anything. It won't let me see her. If anybody will tell me what's really happening in there, it's been over 10 hours. Nobody will tell me what's going on. Well, that's the thing. Try to sit down and take it easy, Mr. Chapman. Oh, that's great to say. Just sit down. Easy to say. It's not your wife who's in there. It isn't someone you love. Why are you here anyway? Why aren't you out trying to get the rotten little punk that did it? Why don't you look for him? We'll get to him, sir. When? After Helen's dead? Is that going to be when you start looking? We're looking for him now. We came over in the hopes that we could talk to your wife. We thought she might be able to give us some information. What in God's name do you want from her? The name and address of the kid who ran it down? Does she have to go out of bed and go find him for you? That's your job. Yours. All this talk about the police department being so good, but what are you doing? You stand around here with your toe in the dirt, waiting for my wife to come to enough to point the kid out. All right, sir. Now take it easy. Take it easy. Now listen to me, both of you. You listen. If she dies, if that kid killed her, I'll find him. I don't know how, but I will. I'm going to do the same thing to him with my hands that he did with this car. I'll find him. I swear I'll find him and I'm going to kill him. With my hands, I'm going to kill him. Mr. Captain? Yeah. Can I see you for a moment? Yeah. Do you excuse us for a minute, sir? Sure, Doctor. We'll wait out in the hall. Tell them about that plate on the car. Get a broadcast out on it. Check the phone book for the address of the National Hot Rod Association. Better talk with them, huh? They might have something for us on the club. All right. You better start, cop. You better find it fast because I'm looking so... You ought to go home and get some sleep, Mr. Captain. You're all worn out. I'm not going to get any sleep until I catch that kid. I'm dead. I catch that kid. How is the girl? She's dead. Both of them are... Both of them? Yeah. She's going to have a baby in a couple of months. 3.15 p.m., Frank and I drove out to the offices of the National Hot Rod Association on Hollywood Boulevard. We met with Bud Coons and Wally Parks. They checked their records for clubs with the last name Wheels. There were three in their files. Two were in the eastern part of the United States and one was listed as having headquarters in Alhambra, California. We obtained the name and address of the president of the club and we drove out to see him. We found him in the garage behind the house working on a 1941 Ford. We introduced ourselves and he asked us to sit down. What do you want to see me about? We understand that you're the president of the Square of Wheels, right? Yeah, that's right. Why? How many members do you have in the club? 18. 18 actors. There was a couple of guys in the service. What's this all about anyway? How come the questions? All your members have the metal plates with a club name on their car? Yeah. You got them when they pay the initiation fee. What? Anybody else have them? Not legally. What do you mean? A couple of them have been stolen from members. Any of the fellows in the club drive a black pre-war Ford? Yeah, I guess we got about five of them. I got one myself, as a matter of fact. Listen, why can't you tell me what this is all about? I figure if I knew what you wanted, I could help you out. A woman was run down by a hot rod last night, one of the witnesses saw a plate on the car that might have been from your club. No kidding. That's the way we got it. What did it look like? I always say it had twin pipes. Pretty well beat up, white sidewall tires. It's not one of ours then. It's not pretty sure what about the plate. Well, I told you we've had a couple of them stolen. Must have been one of them. Well, how come you're so sure it wasn't one of your members? Oh, I know the car's in the club. There isn't a yoyo and a bunch. What's a yoyo? Well, yeah, you know, a shop rod, junkie. Oh, I see. I don't know. It seems like every time there's any trouble with a car over five years old, it's a hot rod. It's sure not fair. That's so. Yeah. Come here, I'll show you. I'll take a look at that. I've been working on it for three years. Got over 1,200 bucks in it. Take a look at it. It's a lot of motor. Yeah, it's a good car, but what's it prove? The car that ran that woman down wasn't a hot rod. How do you figure that? You said it was a wreck, didn't you? That's right. We haven't got a wreck that's allowed on the streets in this club. I don't know a legal club that has a yoyo in it. We got a safety check every month. Any car that isn't safe has to be fixed or the guys out. A lot of clubs operate that way. Yeah, we know. Our kids build rods for two reasons, because they want the cars to run better, be more efficient, or else they want something a little different than you can buy in a showroom. Well, all this sounds good, but a woman was killed last night by a kid driving a hopped-up car of some kind. Maybe it had twin pipes, a loud muffler, but I'll give you odds from here to Bonneville that it wasn't a hot rod. I know how guys feel. Every kid on the wheel in a second-hand car has a potential killer. The way the papers pictures, we just roam around looking for somebody to run over. That's not true. You check the records. I think you'll find that the ratio between tickets given out to members of Hotrod and getting a year and a half the one before that was for overtime parking. Oh, I'm sorry, fellas. That car last night wasn't one of our guys, and you can bet he wasn't a Hotrod either. You got any way of knowing who could have gotten a flat? Not right off, but we'll find you. How? There's only so many streets in Los Angeles. We'll find you. Guys like that make things rough on the clean drivers in this town. We'll find him for you. I will appreciate any help you can give us on this, but it's a police business. If you find him, give us a call right away. Don't worry, we will. How do I get in touch with you? I'll leave you one of our cards any time you call us. All right. I'll get on the phone and get the fellas rounded up. You turn it all away. Take it out. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. I'll let him shoot you. Well, we drive them to the airport. Count you in to say hello. 6.40 p.m. Frank and I got back to the office. During the afternoon, the broadcast on the car had gone over the state wire, and every police officer in the state of California was looking for the hit-and-run car. When we checked with communication, it was our broadcast. 7.15 p.m. We put on a call to Georgia Street receiving hospital, and we talked again to Dr. Sebastian. He told us that the victim's husband, Carl Chapman, had been placed under the care of his family doctor against sexual check. Well, in the run until 8.40 p.m., we met back in the squad room. Any word yet? No. Got a call from Al Gibbs. Hot rod club? Yeah. He says all the clubs in the area are looking for the car. They divided the city up in sections. Members are checking all the streets. No luck though, huh? No, nothing. Well, they turned a couple of cars, but they don't check out. How'd you do? Pretty good. Got the report here. We had a couple sandwiches, and then we got some Swiss on our eye. Good. In the bag there. Where's coffee? Right there, Carton. Oh. The lab sure did a good job on this stuff here. Mm-hmm. There's a scene. The victim was found 10 feet 4 inches from the northeast corner, 4 feet 8 inches from the north pedestrian crosswalk. That's put it about here, wouldn't it? Yeah. They found particles of broken glass, checked on with the lighthouse, left here. Mm-hmm. Got it. I looked at it, it's new. Any brand name? Yeah, but it's not going to help much. Distribute it all over the country. A lot about skid marks, any sign of them? No, not that either the kid didn't have time to use them or else he didn't want to. They came up with this though. Yeah, what's that? Well, some marks from a tire. Lee says he thinks they were made when the kid dug out to get away, spun the back wheels. Sure indicated he didn't mean to stop at any time, huh? Well, that's the way Lee's got it figured. There you are. Yeah. Anybody there? No. No, keep it under surveillance. We'll be right out. Yeah, don't burn it. All right, bye. What do you got? Well, it's beginning to go our way, maybe. Huh? They found the car. The route that the students were going to park was moving it. It's safe. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. It is weak. The white slip gave us an address in Hollywood. While the crime lab went over the car, we drove out to Moore's address to talk to him. He lived in a large house built in the mid-20s as a private residence. It had been converted into a boarding house. Frank covered the rear entrance. I rang the front doorbell. Give me up this time of night. Police officer, you have a tenant here named Jack Moore? What about it? We'd like to talk to him. Too late, Mac. He ain't here. Where is he? I don't know. He moved out this afternoon. He didn't say where he was going. A thorough search was made in the suspect's room. The manager told us that Moore had come home that morning, packed his belongings and left the house. We called the crime lab and Lieutenant Lee Jones told us that they'd established that Moore's car was the one that had run down the chapel in the girl. We talked to the other people in the rooming house. None of them could tell us where Moore might have gone. We put in a call to our records, but the car was not listed as being stolen. We called his name into our and I, but we found that he had no felony record. From the occupants of the rooming house, we found that the suspect had no relatives in this state and no close friends that they could recall. Layton Prince came out and went over the room and, going over it, we found a wastebasket Moore had used to dispose of articles that he didn't want. In the basket, we found several match folders from a bar out on Westlent Street. We put in a call to the bar, but we found that it was closed. In the manager of the rooming house, we got a good description of the suspect along with the information that he received no mail and that he was apparently unemployed. A stakeout was set up on the house, and at 3.36 a.m., Frank and I checked out of the office and went home for the night. The next day, Wednesday, April 8th, we went to the M.A.M.V. and asked that they give us all information on the clock, 15 a.m. We drove over the bar on Westlent Street. Not open yet. Police officers, like some information. License is back there on the wall and plain sight. There's nothing going on here. Do you have a customer in here named Jack Moore? We just opened the doors. We got no say about who comes in. As long as they don't cause trouble, we don't eat it. This guy's about 20 or 21, 5'8 to 5'10, 165 pounds, blond. His name's Moore, Jack Moore. About what? Police business. Have you seen him? Nothing that's going to get the bar in trouble. That's a simple question, Mr. Have you seen him? Maybe, yeah. You tell me what it's all about, I might be able to help you out. You're running out of time. Have you seen Jack Moore? Yeah. When? Last night. Here? Yeah, he was in. Got licked up. I tossed him out when we closed. Where is he now? You better ask him. I'm going to tell you once more, if you know where he is, you're going to save yourself a lot of time by cooperating with it. I run a clean place here. I don't want any trouble with the cops. My license is on the wall. I got no choice of the customers coming in here. I don't want to get mixed up in it. We're not calling it that way. That's the way it is. This is a clean place. That's not what the book says. You've been tabbed a couple of times with serving minors. You run B-girls. You haven't served straight liquor in here for a couple of years. Now, get me a wage. Oh, now, look, fellas, I was just trying to take care of myself. You did. Get your coat. Isn't there some way we can work this thing out? I don't want any trouble. Where's Jack Moore? I try to run a clean place a couple of times. We've been over all that before. Now, where is he? I got him up at my place. You there now? I guess so. We got pretty loaded last night. We got a clean place to pad down. I took him home. What's the address? 1862 and a half Woodworth Court. Room 14. All right. Let's go. Yeah. And don't try to call him. I got no phone in the room. He's done anything. I had no part in it. Just trying to help a friend out. That's all. Just help a friend out. Yeah, sure. You tell him that. He got me in trouble all because I tried to help him out. You just tell him. Yeah, we will. Tell him not to come around here anymore. Tell him to keep out. Tell him that. Will you for me? Tell him not to come back? Don't you worry about it. He won't be back. I'm going to the office. And another team of detectives came out to the bar to keep the bartender under surveillance in the event that he might try to contact the suspect. It took five and a half minutes to drive to the Woodworth Street address. It was a large building located at the end of a blind street. Room 14 was on the third floor in the front of the building. Frank and I approached the room and we listened. There was no sound from inside. You want to try the door? Yeah. It was on my bed. Yeah. Looks like the right guy. I was awake. Come on. Come on, boy. Wake up. Come on. Charlie. Come on. Get up. Get up. Let me alone. I told you, Charlie. Let me. What are you guys? What are you doing? Police officers, you're under arrest. Wait a minute. All right. I got. Come on. Stand still. All right. All right. I quit. I quit. You want to shake him, Frank? Yeah. Well, you're taking me. I ain't done nothing. You got no reason to push me around like this. All right, let's go. Where? Where are you going to take me? Downtown. For what? You got the wrong one. I didn't do it. All right. Come on. Let's move. But you got the wrong one. I didn't do it. I didn't know what you wanted. That's why I run. I didn't know what you wanted. Well, you're new now, so let's go. The suspect was taken to the squad room where he was questioned. He refused to admit any part in the crime. He was confronted with the physical evidence and with the ownership of the hit-run vehicle. The witness to the crime came to the office and said that Jack Moore was the man that she'd seen at the wheel of the car when Helen Chapman had been run down. Throughout the interrogation, the suspect refused to say anything. At 1.47 p.m., the door to the squad room opened and Carl Chapman came in. Where is he? I know he's here. I want to see him. Oh, I take it easy, Chapman. I heard you caught him. I want to see him. I want to tell him. Is that the kid? Are you the one? You're the one who killed Helen? Well, answer me. Oh, I take it easy, Chapman. Is he the one? The evidence points at what he had. Please. I want you to do something for me. What's that? Go away. Out of here, please. We can't do that, Chapman. He's in custody. Please. Please leave me alone with him. Come on, Chapman. Listen to me, kid. When they put you in that cell, you get down on your knees and thank God that they found you before I did. You understand? You thank him and every day you live, you thank him. You do that because I would have killed you. Take it easy, Chapman. My wife's dead because of him. You hear that? You kill her. They got laws to save people like you, but none for her. None for her and the baby. They didn't have any laws. It's time for them. All right, Chapman. Take it easy. Right. Come on, sir. Yeah. I'm upset, ain't he? I want you to remember something, kid. In the years I've been in this department, I've seen some bad ones real bad. Teenage kids that didn't know any better scraped up off the pavement, sent home to their parents. Drunks who were too loaded to know what went on. There's been a lot of them go through here, but you finish way ahead of the field, boy. You talk good. I bet you're on a lecture team around here. I'm getting fed up with you kids roaming the streets and death traps, and I don't care about you. You want to wrap yourself around a post you go ahead. We'll try and stop you, but don't you take somebody else with you. Every year, the number gets bigger. More people killed. It isn't the honest drivers that do it. It's people like you who don't care for anybody else. Now, we've tried about everything in the books to make you understand. It doesn't look like any of them did any good, does it? I'm a bad one, ain't I? You killed a human being, boy. A woman who didn't even know you. She never saw you until it was too late. You threw a 10 and a half of metal at a 120-pound woman, and then you ran away and left her in the gutter to die. You wrecked a family. You tore it right down the middle and rolled over it. You've ruined the lives of all the people around that woman. You gave a group of decent men. Put that on your feet, young fella. What's that? Hit and run. How much will I get? I don't know, but it won't be enough.