Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true.
Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
NBC brings you Dragnet.
You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned to homicide.
Somewhere in the tangled web of your city, there's a killer on the loose.
A young woman has been brutally murdered.
The weapon, a steel bludgeon.
Your job is to get him.
Dragnet, the documented drama of an actual crime investigated and solved by the men who
unrelentingly stand watch on the security of your home, your family, and your life.
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 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, March 19th.
It was foggy in Los Angeles.
We were working the night watch out of homicide detail.
My partner's Ben Romero.
The boss is Ed Backstrand, Chief of Detectives.
My name's Friday.
It was 9.14 p.m. when I got to the old central jail building, third floor, the crime lab.
Hi, Joe.
Hi, Common Lee.
Just ran a spectrograph.
What'd you find?
The paint flake from the victim's head matches that paint on the hunk of pipe.
Any prints?
The pipe was clean, no latent prints.
That figured.
Anything else?
Got those blood test reports.
Couple of slides for you to look at under the comparison mic.
Thanks, Lee.
Oh, hi, Joe.
Didn't hear you come in.
What's it look like, Ben?
Here's the blood test reports.
This one is blood found on the piece of pipe.
Type A.
This one's blood from the victim.
Type A.
They match.
Good boy.
Doesn't mean too much, though.
Did you look at these slides under the microscope?
No, not yet.
Well, this is your clincher.
Wait till I get the light.
Okay, take a look.
Got a make?
Yeah, go ahead.
Well, this slide here on the right, that's a slice of hair from the victim's head.
On the other slide is hair found on the steel pipe.
Yeah.
She had wavy hair.
Both specimens are flat.
Same hair, Joe.
Got anything on that piece of pipe, Lee?
Nothing.
Just an ordinary steel pipe, 14 inches long.
What else you got?
The plaster impressions of those footprints we found by the body.
Here they are.
Crepes sold?
Tennis shoes, new ones, size nine.
Good impression.
Ground was soft.
Man, about 150 pounds, according to the length of stride, roughly about five feet, 10 inches
tall.
Yeah, new shoes, all right.
You can still read the manufacturer's label.
That's right.
Made by the Sport King Company.
Well, that's something to follow up.
Yeah, sure.
You could start with the tennis courts.
Only about a thousand or so in L.A.
Maybe you'd rather track down the brand.
These particular tennis shoes are the biggest sellers in the country.
Yeah.
Where'd you like to start?
Minneapolis or Pullman, Washington?
What about that glove?
Yeah, you might look for a missing glove.
Yeah.
They go well with the shoes, just about as common.
White cotton work gloves with a blue top.
Here's the right glove.
You find the left one.
Blood on a glove?
Type A.
Oh, that's good evidence, Jones, but where's the lead?
Now, look, I don't ask you to pay my parking tickets.
You want to see blowups?
Yeah, okay.
Right over here.
Oh, yeah.
This is the vacant lot where they found the body.
Yeah, that's right.
Here's a close-up of her showing the location of the murder weapon, the glove, and the footprints
relative to the position of the body.
Looks as bad as yesterday.
Sure did work her over, didn't it?
The rest of these are morgue shots.
Interested?
No, I checked them this morning.
Once is enough, Lee.
Yeah, that winds it, boy.
You want to go over the stuff in her purse again?
You find anything more?
No, nothing you haven't seen already.
The usual.
Makeup, comb, barrette.
It's a hair clip.
A few cheap stones in it.
Loose change, a quarter nickel, a few pennies.
Her ID card.
Yeah.
Helen Corday, 33, Naomi Place, age 21.
21.
That's not very old, is it, Lee?
Not to die.
Helen Corday.
Who could kill Helen Corday?
Why?
Why do you say that, Mr. Meyer?
People kill for money.
They kill for love.
Helen Corday had none of these.
No boyfriend?
Not in here.
No, she was a good worker.
Five different vaders has the Union sends me.
One month.
Five.
Did the Union send Helen to you?
Sure.
One like Helen.
Oh, she was sweet, honest, and courteous.
Mr. Meyer, did you know anything about her personal life?
Only that she was a good worker.
Everything else she took home with her from this place.
Did she ever mention any men to you, anyone at all?
No gentlemen, not one.
How much money did she make here?
I paid her $26.50 a week, every Tuesday.
Not much salary for so much work, but the tips are very good here.
Nice customers.
This is her home address, 33 Naomi Place.
33 Naomi, that's right.
Thank you very much, Mr. Meyer, for your time.
I wonder what kind of a person does things like that.
Who could kill Helen Corday?
Everybody liked Helen.
Helen Corday?
I never liked her.
Come on in the office, boys, where we can talk.
Never liked her because I never knew her.
You the head of the Union?
I'm just a steward.
I know most of the girls.
This Corday girl, what was she, what did she look like?
Small brunette, about 5'3".
Here's a picture.
Yeah, pretty girl, wasn't she?
Oh, sure, sure.
Place Dorado's place.
Nice little Dutch fella, Otto Meyer.
That's right, he seemed to think quite a lot of her.
Yeah, she was a fine worker.
Oh, sure.
Always right up on her dues, paid all the assessments right on time.
I thought you said you didn't know her.
Well, not right off I didn't, but when you showed me that picture there, placed her right
away.
You know anything about her personal life?
Oh, wait a minute.
Why all these questions?
Helen Corday was murdered last night.
Oh, who did it?
You know anything about her personal life?
Oh, you're going to see my position, Sergeant.
Twelve hundred girls, check them in, check them out.
Oh, it just names to me till I see a picture of them.
You wouldn't know if she had any boyfriends here in the Union, waiters, busboys?
That I wouldn't know.
Like I tell you, Sergeant, I never knew Helen Corday.
Sure, I knew Helen Corday.
Gus plays a nice piano, huh, Sergeant?
Yeah.
I read about it in the paper this morning.
How long you been selling pianos here at this place?
About as long as I knew Helen.
Three years.
How'd you find me?
Helen's landlady, we talked to her yesterday.
She told us she worked here at this piano store.
Oh, funny, isn't it?
It's funny.
See Gus over there?
That fellow demonstrating the piano?
Few weeks ago I made a deal with him to give Helen piano lessons.
I figured it would help her with her singing lessons.
Wanted to be a singer, you know.
Did Helen know that fellow Gus?
No, she never met him.
Who gave her the singing lessons, Miss Olsen?
She took from Ostrander.
Paul Ostrander out on Melrose.
A lot of movie people used to take from him.
What do you know about her personal life?
How do you mean?
Does she have any boyfriends?
Well, yes.
You don't seem sure, Miss Olsen.
Well, it's just that I don't know.
I never asked Helen, but she did have a few dates with Paul Ostrander.
I don't think she was serious.
How about Ostrander?
Gee, I don't know, Sergeant.
I don't want to involve anybody.
You want to help us find the killer, don't you?
Yes, but if you're thinking Paul Ostrander did it, no.
I'm sure he didn't kill her.
That's all for today, Victoria.
No, gentlemen, I did not kill Helen for a day.
You gave her singing lessons, Mr. Ostrander.
You know her pretty well.
Yes, I gave her voice coaching for about a year and a half.
Helen showed a little promise.
Not a great voice.
A bad vibrato.
You knew her pretty well.
Why do you say that?
Mr. Ostrander, didn't you used to take her out once in a while?
No.
I didn't know Helen socially at all.
We know you had dates with her.
That's not true.
The only times I saw her was when she came here to the studio for lessons.
You better tell the truth, Mr. Ostrander.
We can prove that you've been out with her.
Afraid of the publicity, is that it?
Certainly, that's it.
I have a successful business here.
I've spent years building it.
Anything like this would ruin me.
Then you have been out with her.
Only a few times.
Nothing serious.
I had nothing to do with her murder.
Now, that's the truth.
Don't you know that withholding information about a thing like this can go kind of hard
for you?
Yes, I know that.
What else could I do?
Mr. Ostrander, somewhere in this city right now, there's a guy who beat a young girl to
death.
He crushed her skull with a piece of steel pipe.
We need every bit of information we can get to track him down.
I know that, son.
You could have come to us.
We wouldn't run to the newspapers with it.
If the information's confidential, that's the way we treat it.
Most of the time, it's the people who run to the newspapers first, then they come to
us.
That's right, Mr. Ostrander.
People are their own press agents.
Sergeant, I'd like to know what right you have to invade my privacy and lecture me on
my civic duty.
All right, I'll tell you what right, Ostrander.
We want the man who murdered Helen Corday.
I got as much right as he had at 1214 this morning.
Come on, Joe.
Yeah.
Thanks, Mr. Ostrander.
Sorry if I invaded your privacy.
Chief of Detectives, Overs.
Hannan.
No, I'm sorry, ma'am.
You got the wrong extension.
Try 2511.
You're welcome.
Hi, Friday, Romero.
Chief's been looking for you.
Thank you, Mike.
Come on, Joe.
Yeah.
Hello, Joe.
Ben.
Sit down.
What'd you get?
A notebook full of notes.
A crime lab full of evidence, nothing to tie them together.
These are some of the people you interviewed.
Yeah, those and about a dozen more we didn't even take notes on.
It's hard to figure, Skipper.
Everybody seemed to like this girl.
Helen Corday.
No known relatives.
Single, unattached girl, living all alone in the city.
Few friends and no enemies.
None we can find, anyway.
Are you satisfied that all the people you interviewed are in the clear?
Well, if we're gonna stick to the simple robbery motive, we are.
The kind of money Helen Corday made wouldn't interest those people.
How are you doing on the outside, Leeds?
Nothing.
If we could just find one hole someplace, anything.
All right, now look.
You've got a lab full of evidence across the street.
You've got a book full of names here.
You've got the pieces.
Now fit them together.
They just don't add.
Well, go over them and keep going over them until they do add.
Anything from the informants?
No, nothing so far.
No tips on anybody.
That's been dough heavy lately.
Nobody's shooting off their mouth.
The guy we want won't advertise.
Figures himself a pretty smooth operator.
But he probably made a mistake somewhere along the line.
We'll find it.
Got a hot shot, Ed?
Yeah.
3220 Casino.
Woman.
Probable attack.
All right, Friday.
You and Ben run it down.
We ran down the hot shot call for 3220 Casino.
Turned out to be a
typical dead end lead.
Her name was Mrs. Lillian Horn.
She was a very good
operator.
For the past five years, Mr. Horn had been paid regularly on Wednesdays.
He spent all day Thursday drinking up his paycheck and beating his wife.
The call had no connection with the Corday murder.
We made the usual call into communications.
Unit 80K to Control 1.
80K to Control 1.
Entry 1 to 80K.
Go ahead.
On that probable attack, 3220 Casino.
Code 4.
80K, Roger.
80K to Control 1, KMA 367.
That was the beginning.
For the next three days, we followed up every lead and every call, but they were all blind.
All units were alerted and they had as much information on the killer of Helen Corday
as we did.
Ben and I cruised throughout the entire central division.
We covered every probable call that might have some connection with the murder.
Attention, Unit 41R. 1654 Swanson Terrace.
A woman.
Victim of probable attack.
Code 3.
Unit 41R.
It didn't make any difference what the call was, but there was a possibility it might
tie in with the Corday murder we ran it down.
We made it a 24-hour job.
So far, if the killer made a mistake, we hadn't been able to find it.
The Corday funeral was on Monday.
They were all there, the girl's landlady, the voice teacher Ostrander, the girlfriend
Marie Olson, the man from the Union, and her boss Otto Meyer.
But nobody else we hadn't checked.
That was Monday afternoon.
Monday night, we went back to the old routine, tracking calls during the night in the squad
car, picking up small threads that led nowhere.
Three more days of the same thing.
Thursday morning, one week after we found Helen Corday's body, we got an anonymous phone
tip.
We didn't know who killed Helen Corday.
His name is George Barlow.
He lives at 418 White Oak Avenue.
He used to date her up all the time.
Get him and you've got the murderer.
We checked George Barlow and about ten others just like him.
None of them knew Helen Corday.
Saturday night, Ben and I were back in the squad car, cruising the central division.
Saturday night's a good night for robbery.
By 10 p.m., we'd run down four various calls.
One-twenty-three, code one.
One-twenty-three, Roger.
12G, call your station.
Unit 13R, 1254 Tower Road.
A woman screaming.
Investigate the trouble.
Code two.
Let's handle that one, Ben.
Yeah, okay.
I'll notify communications.
Unit 80K to Control One.
80K to Control One.
Control One to Unit 80K.
Go ahead.
I'm here, 1254 Tower Road call. We're in the vicinity.
We will handle.
80K, Roger.
80K to Control One, CAM 8367.
Let's go, Ben.
Control One to 13R, disregard your last call.
Handled by 80K.
It should be right about here.
Oh, here it is. 1254.
That man had tried to kill me.
He's running out of space.
Where?
He's getting to that guy, I think.
He tried to kill me.
Come on.
Where'd he go, Joe?
Turn right at the next corner.
That's him up ahead.
He's got a good lead on us.
Hit the siren.
He's gaining, Joe.
Take a left at the next corner.
Oh, he isn't gonna stop.
Close in as tight as you can, Ben.
Down to the floor now.
Swing out to the left a little.
I'm going for his tires.
What?
That'll slow him down.
Pull up on him.
Yeah.
All right, Joe.
Keep both hands on that wheel
and get over to the curb.
Cover me, Joe.
Right.
Out of that car, mister.
Shake him down.
Hey, take it easy, will you?
I haven't got a gun.
Put the cuffs on him.
Hey, you boys work fast.
What am I to do with the gas chamber?
Just save that, Matthew.
That's pretty rough treatment for speeding.
All right, come on, you.
Look, I got a right to know where you're taking me.
What's the charge?
We let the girl tell you.
What girl?
You just sit there and be quiet, huh?
Oh, I know where you're going.
There's a place back on Taro Road.
Well, I asked to use the phone,
and the girl slammed the door in my face.
I don't know what your cops are trying to prove.
I just wanted to use the phone, that's all.
I even tried to scare her a little.
I told her I'd hit her over the head
if she didn't let me use the phone.
That's a laugh, huh?
All right, you get out.
Yeah, I suppose so.
Get out.
Hey.
I got nothing to hide.
That little girl's going to lie, you know that, don't you?
Who's there?
Police officer.
It's the man.
That's him.
He tried to kill me.
His full name's Frank Philip Larson.
They had no previous record.
This the girl's report?
Yeah, that's it, skipper.
Judy Scott.
How old is she?
He's 19.
He's a babysitter.
Real tough boy, isn't he?
Forced his way into the house,
beat her about the neck and arms.
That tire iron.
We found it in his car.
Jones is running it through the crime lab.
Asked her if she had any money.
She told him no.
Struck her again.
Where does Larson live?
Hotel out near Santa Monica.
He's a clothing salesman.
He works for a big men's store, Burns & Company.
According to the house book sales record,
he bought a pair of tennis shoes two weeks ago.
He weighs 158 pounds, 5 foot 11 inches.
Tennis shoes are missing.
They're not in his hotel room.
He's not wearing them.
What else did you find?
A rhinestone.
You mean a pin?
No, just a small loose stone
recovered from the rug in Larson's room.
Crime lab got it.
Working on it now.
Ed, I think...
We got the man who killed Helen Corday.
A few scraps of circumstantial evidence and a hunch.
That's not much to go on.
Larson had gone after the little Scott girl with the tire iron.
Wasn't much of a tie-in, but we had to be sure.
All that day we checked Frank Larson's alibi
for the night of Helen Corday's murder.
We interviewed the personnel manager at Burns & Company,
where he worked.
We talked to all the clerks who knew him.
The manager of the hotel where he lived.
We found out everything we could about Frank Larson.
And that night at 10 o'clock,
we had the prisoner brought to the interrogation room.
How are you, Larson?
Fine.
Just fine. I like jail.
Sit down.
Lousy weather. It's been foggy all over town.
I wouldn't know. I've been inside all day.
How old are you, Larson?
31. Same as the last time you asked me.
Where'd you go to school?
I didn't. I was born smart.
You sell clothes, don't you, Larson?
We know you work for Burns & Company. Remember? You told us.
What is all this? What are you guys trying to build?
Just want to know if you like selling clothes. That's all.
Well, you coppers know about clothes.
One blue surge a year is your speed.
You know quite a bit about clothes, don't you?
I've been selling them for five years.
Can you tell me something I've been wondering about?
What's that?
Are your socks and tie always supposed to match?
That's what the style books say.
Bet you always know the right things to wear, don't you?
You wouldn't wear black shoes with a brown suit, would you?
Is that what you're keeping me here for? Style, isn't it?
Oh, would you? Would you wear black shoes with a brown suit?
Most people wouldn't.
Bet you wouldn't wear brown shoes with a tuxedo either.
I haven't smoked in too much. You got a glass of water?
Oh, yeah, sure.
There you are, Larson.
Thanks.
That's good and cold.
How about it? Would you ever wear brown shoes with a tux?
Nobody would.
That's a navy blue flannel you got on there, isn't it?
Yeah.
It's a good-looking suit.
Topron some time. Gets you a good deal.
A suit like that flannel there you're wearing?
You'd never wear tennis shoes with an outfit like that, would you?
What do you think?
I think you did. I think you wore them the night you killed Helen Corday.
Who?
Maybe you didn't have the blue suit on,
but you were wearing tennis shoes, Sport King, size 9.
Sell for $5.95. You picked them up at a discount. Cost you three and a quarter.
Where'd you get that?
Out of the house book, Burns & Company.
You wouldn't have those shoes around now, would you?
We couldn't find them in your hotel room.
Your boss, Mr. Craig, used to think a lot of you, Larson.
Before you started drinking on the job,
your commission used to run pretty high up the last couple of months.
What happened? That cheap ride get to you?
Well, you two really nosed around, didn't you?
When are you gonna tell me what I eat for breakfast?
Corn flakes, cup of coffee, doughnut, sometimes two doughnuts when you're hungry.
Elsie waits on you at the Royal Cafe. She gets a dime tip.
And ask her more of that water.
Help yourself, there's a cooler.
They're good and cold.
How about it, Larson? Where are the tennis shoes?
They wore out.
In three weeks? Ain't be very good tennis shoes.
Oh, they didn't wear out. What'd you do with them?
You know all the answers. You figure it out.
We know you bought the tennis shoes. We don't know where they are now.
We know you had them, size nine.
Three feet from the body of Helen Corday,
we found two size nine footprints made by a pair of Sport King tennis shoes.
We figured the man weighed about 150 pounds.
You weigh 158?
Figured he's about 5'10".
You're 5'11".
You come awful close to being the same bill as the man who killed Helen Corday, don't you, Larson?
Man, you wear the same size tennis shoes, same brand name.
A lot of people wear nines. It's the average size.
They sell a lot of Sport Kings, too. Everybody wears them.
If we could find your pair, it might make a difference.
Doesn't mean your tennis shoes made the prints with the body.
Doesn't prove it didn't, neither.
What'd you do with them, Larson?
I threw them away.
That's too bad. It might make a difference.
Oh, what difference could it make? I threw them away, that's all.
Now, how about the mate to this glove?
I never saw it before.
Found this right-hand glove by the body of Helen Corday.
Just an ordinary cottonwork glove. Everybody wears them.
If we could find the missing left glove, well, it might make a difference.
Size medium. That's average, too, isn't it, Larson?
I never saw work gloves. I wouldn't know.
No, but you bought work gloves, haven't you?
Not a pair of those.
Clean like this, don't you? We only got one.
What kind of work gloves did you buy?
I didn't buy any.
You just said you did.
I never said I bought any work gloves.
You bought tennis shoes, though, didn't you?
I told you I bought the tennis shoes.
Didn't I tell you I bought them?
No, you didn't tell us. We told you.
We found out from Burns & Company where you worked.
All right, you told me. I bought them. You know that.
Same kind of tennis shoes that made footprints by Helen Corday's butt.
It wasn't me.
Then why won't you tell us what you did with these shoes?
I've already told you I threw them away.
They were only three weeks old. Must have worn out awful fast.
I didn't say they wore out. They got too dirty.
No, you told us they wore out. Remember, Larson?
I don't remember what I told you, but I don't have them now.
We know you don't have them now. Where are they?
He told us. They got too dirty. Right, Larson?
Yes. Yes, yes. That's what I said.
Anyhow, you haven't got them now.
No, I haven't got them now.
All right, now just for the record, Larson, which was it?
Did they get too dirty or did they wear out?
Whatever I said before.
You said both before, Larson.
All right, I said both. You haven't got anything on me.
We got that little scut girl statement from last night.
She said you tried to kill her. She's lying. I told you she'd lie, didn't I?
I only wanted to use the phone.
She says you hit her with a tire iron. Did you hit her with that iron?
No, I only tried to scare her. I didn't hit her with anything.
Then how'd you get those marks around her neck and arm?
Police doctor says they were made by that tire iron.
I don't care what your doctor says. I didn't hurt her.
Now what do you mean, Larson? You didn't hurt her or you didn't hit her with that tire iron?
Neither one. I just wanted to use her phone.
How'd you know she had a phone?
I didn't know if she had a phone. I just went up to find out.
To find out what? To find out if I could use her phone.
Thought you said you didn't know if she had a phone. I don't know anything the way you twist everything around. Sorry, Larson. We only want the truth. How about a cigarette?
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I could use that. Here's the light.
Larson, where were you Wednesday night, March 18th?
How many times are you going to ask me that same question?
Just want to make sure we got it right.
I told you this morning. I went to a show. I got out about 11, had a beer, and I went home.
What time did you get home?
About 11.30.
What time did you stay home?
I went to bed.
What did you see at the show?
I never remember the names of them.
You ought to try to remember this, and it's pretty important.
I was at Deluxe Theater. I was Spencer Tracy and something.
What was on when you walked in?
The news. I never go in in the middle of a picture.
Neither do I. It spoils them for me.
Yeah, yeah, that's right.
The girl in the box office doesn't remember seeing you go in.
What would she know? I was keen all night. There was a big crowd.
Did you win anything?
I never do.
Anybody hit the jackpot?
I don't remember.
They give away a lot of money towards neighborhood theater. I always remember who hits the jackpot.
All right, you do. I don't.
Do you remember if anybody won the jackpot?
I told you, no.
Do they have a jackpot at that show?
I guess they do. I don't know.
You knew it was Keno Night. You should know if they had a jackpot.
Maybe they had a jackpot. I don't know. I went out for a smoke.
You said the cartoon was on when you walked in.
Why do you always twist what I say?
I told you the news was on when I went in.
You remember anything about the newsreel?
It was ten days ago. How do I know it was in it?
I only know it was a newsreel. That's all.
You're lying, Larson. We checked your alibi.
The manager of the theater had to cut the newsreel Wednesday night because the show was running long with Keno Night.
You didn't go to the show Wednesday night, did you?
All right, maybe I didn't. I don't remember. What's the difference?
The difference is you could have been in that vacant lot the same night, the night Helen Corday was murdered.
I didn't kill her. You can't prove I did.
Interrogation room, Friday.
Hi, Jones.
You're dead, huh?
You're positive.
Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Lee.
Sure you don't want to tell us what you did with those tennis shoes?
I'm not going to go back over all that.
I've told you guys all I'm going to tell you.
You know how the Corday girl was murdered?
How would I know? I don't know anything about it.
She was on her way home from work, as usual, about midnight. Of course, you were home in bed about that time.
But you didn't go to the show that night, Larson.
On her way home, Helen Corday always took a shortcut across a vacant lot.
She was about halfway through the lot when the murderer tried to grab her purse.
She screamed and he struck her.
Hit her several times with a piece of steel pipe, 14 inches long.
He beat her to death with that piece of steel pipe.
Then he dropped the pipe in a right-hand cotton work glove.
He left two footprints, size 9, sport king tennis shoes.
I know all that.
Well, here's something you don't know.
When the killer scooped the paper money out of that girl's purse, he accidentally took along a loose rhinestone.
A stone that fell out of a cheap barrette in the bottom of her bag.
He carried that stone home with him.
When he reached in his pocket to pull out the money he stole from her, the rhinestone fell on the floor.
So?
We found that rhinestone on the rug in your hotel room.
Well, I haven't lived in that hotel room all my life.
Maybe the tenant before me dropped it there.
No, not this one.
We checked the cement that held it in that barrette. It matches the glue on the stone.
No, Larson, that rhinestone came from the hair clip that Helen Corday wore before she was murdered.
That's enough to take you to the district to turn him in.
What am I supposed to say?
We want you to tell us the truth. Why did you kill Helen Corday?
Yeah.
You want the sandwiches and coffee now, Sergeant?
Bring them in, Mike. Looks like we're going to be here a long time.
Yeah, I brought you ham, cheese, and liverwurst. And some fruit.
Coffee's black. Cream and sugar on the side.
Thank you, Mike.
That looks good.
What kind do you want, Larson?
Ham, cheese, and liverwurst.
Oh, you're not hungry?
Okay.
A sandwich, you?
No, thanks. I think I'll have an apple.
Yeah.
I fixed you a place there, Larson.
My coffee's right here.
It's a fine apple.
Nice and fresh.
This a Washington apple?
Yeah, I don't know.
Is that coffee hot enough?
Yeah, it's fine.
Where'd Mike pick these up?
Yeah, in Broster Street.
Eddies?
Yeah.
They don't taste good.
Well, drink your coffee anyway, Larson. It's getting cold.
All right! All right!
I didn't want to kill her.
She screamed and I hit her. All I wanted was her purse. That's all I wanted.
She...she wouldn't give to me.
She had to fight back, so I hit her. I didn't want to kill her.
All she had to do was give me the purse and I wouldn't have hurt her.
I was drinking and I didn't know what I was doing.
I was drunk. I was drunk. I didn't mean to kill her.
I didn't...I didn't mean to kill her.
Mike.
Yeah, Joe?
Stay with him. We'll call the stenographer.
See you tomorrow, Joe. Good night.
Yeah. Sour racket, huh?
The story you have just heard is true.
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
Frank Philip Larson was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree.
He was executed in the lethal gas chamber at the State Penitentiary.
You have just heard the fifth in a new series of authentic cases from official files.
Technical advice for Dragnet is furnished by the Los Angeles Police Department.
Tonight's program is dedicated to police officer Charles A. Brady of the Chicago, Illinois Police Department,
who on the night of September 2nd, 1945, gave his life so that yours might be more secure.
Dragnet came to you from Los Angeles.
This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.