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 to forgery detail.
An accomplished Czech forger is at work in your city.
His victims, small businessmen.
You know his M.O.
You don't know his identity.
Your job.
Get him.
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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 from official police
files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
Was Monday, February 4th.
Was cold in Los Angeles.
We were working a day watch out of forgery detail.
My partner's Ben Romero, the boss is Captain Elliott.
My name's Friday.
I was on the way home from the office and it was 8.25 p.m. when I got to Collis Avenue.
Number 4656.
Joseph, is that you?
Yeah, Ma.
We're in the living room.
We have company.
Oh, is that so?
Hello, Joe.
You remember Mary Fowler, don't you, Mr. Joseph?
I sure do.
How are you, Miss Fowler?
Just fine, Joe, thank you.
Doing some shopping out this way and thought I'd stop by and have a cup of tea with your
mother.
Well, it's good to see you.
How are things in the old neighborhood, huh?
Oh, pretty much the same.
Oh, Miss Daly, remember her?
Mm-hmm.
Finally dying.
I suppose she's a little bit of a wimp.
I'm sorry.
Jim got a new job. Not by Aldadena.
Oh, is that so?
Yeah. My, you're certainly looking fine, Joe.
Don't you wear your police uniform anymore?
I know Mary Joseph's in the detective bureau now.
Hasn't worn his uniform for years.
Oh, that's right. I remember now.
That note you sent me, your Christmas card, year before last.
What do you do now, Joe?
Forgery detail. My partner and I handle bum check cases.
My, that certainly must be interesting.
Have you had your dinner, Joseph?
Yes, ma'am. I stopped at a place out in Santa Monica and had something.
Yes, well Mary brought me some nice coffee cakes and pineapple filling.
Wouldn't you like one with a cup of coffee, Joseph?
No, I don't know, ma'am.
You sit down in your chair there and rest yourself. You always look so tired.
I have no idea how hard they worked those young times, Mary.
You remember Genevieve, don't you Joe? My oldest girl.
Oh, yeah, sure. How is she?
Oh, just fine. Lots of boyfriends as usual.
Going out all the time.
Oh, that's good.
She asked to be remembered to you.
I think you and Genevieve were stuck on each other at one time, weren't you Joe?
We went to a couple of dances in high school.
I think she started going steady with another fella, didn't she?
Young girls, they never know when they're well off.
Here's your coffee, Joseph. I set it here in the end table.
Thanks, I don't think I can use it, ma'am.
Oh, delicious coffee cake. You smell how fresh it is.
Yeah, it's nice.
Oh my, quarter to nine. I should have left half an hour ago.
Oh, you have to go, Mary. Seems our visits are always so short.
Well, I got a lot of ironing to do and I have to make Carl's lunch.
He's always so fussy about his lunches.
Yes, well, I'll get your coat.
Well, it's nice seeing you again, Joe.
Do you want to be remembered to Genevieve?
Yeah, tell her hello, William and Miss Pollard.
If you're over our way, be sure and drop in and see us, won't you?
Genevieve's home at the office by six.
She often says she'd like to see you again.
Oh, same. Good night, Joe. You be sure to come and see us now.
Gene will be looking forward to it.
Okay, Miss Pollard, good night.
Yeah, well, I'll show you to the door, ma'am.
You'll remember your strong and maker's vows.
All right, dear, I want you to take care of yourself now.
Good night.
Good night, Mary.
There's the person, Mary.
She's having a hard time trying to find a husband for Genevieve.
Yeah. Hey, ma, I'm not very hungry. I can't eat now.
Oh? Well, it seems such a shame to waste.
That's a lovely coffee cake.
Been used to having the same case, hmm?
Yeah, same one.
It seems to me it's taken you an awfully long time.
Well, we've been on it two months, yeah.
You never understand it.
When people write bad checks, always get caught.
Well, it's easy living while it lasts.
Now, you know what the man's handwriting is like.
Don't you know who the man is?
Well, we think so, ma. We're not sure.
There's hundreds of checked men who work almost alike.
Some of them even look alike.
There's always a big enough field to pick from.
Our problem's picking the right one.
I don't know much about it, but the whole thing seems kind of silly to me.
Well, how's that?
What's this man supposed to be doing?
Going around your small neighborhood stores, cashing 15, 20 dollar checks.
If he got himself a job, he'd probably earn that much in one day, doing good honest work.
Say, Ben didn't call before I got home, did he?
Wasn't he with you?
He was going to interview one of the bum check victims on his way home,
a grocery store owner down at Highland Park.
It might be him now.
Now don't hang on that phone, Joseph. Your coffee gets cold.
Yeah.
Friday talking.
This is Ben, Joe. Got a partial identification from that grocer.
There's nothing great.
Which mug shot did he like?
Stanley Bubeck.
Grocer thinks it might have been the guy who pushed the check.
He can't be sure.
Thirty-three bum checks passed. Same MO.
Not one positive identification. Something's phony, isn't it?
It's got me stuffed.
We know the endorsements on every one of those checks was written by the same guy.
He was practically the same story on every one of his victims.
Those thirty-three people are either blind or they're kidding us.
Well, there's only one other answer.
We're looking for the wrong man.
For two months and two days in different shopping districts throughout the city,
a man described as well-dressed and middle-aged had been passing worthless checks on independent neighborhood businessmen.
Most of the victims were proprietors of small shops, meat markets, liquor stores, grocery stores.
In none of the cases was the check written for more than $25.
With the help of the stats office and our record bureau,
we've gone through the list of experienced checkmen until we found one man whose description and MO matched perfectly with that of the suspect.
The man's name was Stanley Bubeck.
We can't locate him, Captain. Another thing, we can't get a positive identification from any of the victims.
And find a suspect they can't identify.
You've been tracking the guy for two months. What's the big mystery?
Well, we tabbed the man as Stanley Bubeck and his record and his MO as description. They all tie in perfectly.
Now we're not sure it's him.
What do you mean?
Well, if it is Bubeck, it's almost a sure thing that one of the victims could have made him on one of his mug shots.
None of them can make up their minds.
Look, maybe one of you two would like to be captain of the forgery for a day, sit in this office,
and listen to complaints come in over that phone about this guy at the front office, neighborhood businessmen's clubs, retail merchants.
They tell me they're trouble-sowing, passing them on to you.
Now whoever this paper hanger is, we want him and we want him fast.
Lousy little $20 checks. We'd probably have a lot better target if he tried something bigger.
And don't think he and a hundred other checkmen like him don't know that.
You won't find them stealing company paychecks and flooding the town with paper.
They take it from the little guy and they take it in small amounts,
but add up those small amounts at the end of the year and they'll scare you.
That's the rotten part about it. None of those victims can afford a bad check.
That grocer Donnelly stands on his feet all day and had a profit of $10, $15.
He gets tagged with one bad check and he's working for nothing.
We've got bulletins out on the suspect, all the small businessmen in town have all been alerting.
Excuse me.
Have Nell in.
Yeah, okay Don, right away.
Don Myers, he went over the handwriting those last three checks, wants to see you.
Okay.
How about that special bulletin you got out to the prisons on Stanley Bubeck? Any replies?
Nothing yet, Skipper.
All right, stay on it.
Right, let's go.
That's a sour deal. I'd give a right arm for a line on this guy.
It'd move a lot faster if somebody'd help us follow those checks closer.
The way it's running now, we hear about the paper two weeks after it's been cashed.
That Bubeck thing isn't helping much.
You know, you just find another line and we get a settle.
Hi Don.
Oh, hi.
Just finished up on those last three checks that came in. You want to give them a look?
How do they shape up?
Well, you can see for yourself. Right here.
Yeah.
Here are the three I just went over.
And here are half a dozen bad ones for cash last month.
Now the endorsements on this half doesn't match perfectly.
And those other three?
Well, I'd say they were endorsed by the same person.
Now look here. You can notice the capital letters.
Now he still handles them the same way.
Disconnected from the other letters in the first name. See?
Yeah.
But he connects the capitals in the last name. See?
Mm-hmm.
Not very bright.
Yeah.
Not much doubt in my mind. All the other handwriting factors tie in.
Form, skill, shading. They all match up.
The movement, terminals, they're all the same for my money.
Here, the way he writes the lower case letters.
That cinches it for me.
How's that, Don?
Well, here. The inclination of the terminal stroke on the S. See it?
Degree of slant above the horizontal is just about 55 degrees in all cases.
The finger movement in his capitals have plenty of freedom.
They're not shaded much.
Nothing like this in his lower case letters, though. You see? Here.
Yeah, I think I know what you mean.
Not much freedom here. Lots of shading.
And the pressure on the lifts. Here. They match up.
Same on the down stroke.
Now I'd say the skill is medium in all cases.
Embellishment's both class, too.
No changes at all in the style?
Oh, he made the signatures look a little different.
All eight factors match up, though. It's the same person.
All we have to do is find him.
Hey, how about this fellow, Stanley Bubeck? I thought you had him tapped.
We're not too sure about him, but it's the only line we got to work on, so we'll have to do for now.
Romero, there's a man in the office that says you and Joe. His name's Loomis.
Right, Fred. Be there in a minute.
Okay.
Well, thanks, Don. We'll check you later, huh?
Sure. Okay. See you.
Let's go, Ben.
How you do? You Mr. Loomis?
Yes, sir. Sergeant Romero?
No, this is Sergeant Romero here. My name's Friday.
Oh, I thought you'd do.
What can we do for you?
It's about these checks, Sergeant.
These right here.
Well?
You see, I run a delicatessen out on Sunset, and a few days ago a new customer came in for a few things and paid for them with these checks. He came in twice.
Yeah, go ahead.
Well, I got the checks back today. They're no good. I tried to look up the man at the address he gave, but there's no such address.
Mm-hmm.
You can see, one's for $15, the other one's for $20.
Yeah.
The reason I ask for you, man, is because I know the man who runs the drug store across the street, George Holmquist.
He had some bad checks about a month ago. He said you took care of them.
Oh, yeah, yeah. I remember. Do you recall the man who passed these checks, Mr. Loomis?
Yes, I think I do. He told me he was new in the neighborhood and he was looking for a place to trade.
Well, I guess we're all anxious for new business. I took the checks.
You got those mugshots there, man?
Yeah.
Here they are.
Thank you. How about these men, Mr. Loomis? Any of them look anything like the person who passed the checks on you?
No. Let's see. This one, yes, it does look like the man in a way. I don't know if I could be absolutely sure.
Stanley Bubeck, same MMO.
What about you, Bob?
Well, it looks like you're stuck with a couple of bad ones, Mr. Loomis. Probably the same man who passed checks on your drugist friend.
We're doing everything we can to run this man down.
Look, what about the checks? Isn't there anything I can do about them?
No, sir, I'm sorry. Not right now. We would like to have you make out a crime report, if you will, and would you leave these checks with us?
Sure.
Howdy, Romero.
Here it is, Mr. Loomis.
Hedge just came in for you. Reply from Salt Lake City, Utah on that bulletin you sent out on Stanley Bubeck.
Yeah.
He's been in jail for five months.
We sent a request to Salt Lake asking him to question Stanley Bubeck if he knew of any forger who matched his description or used his M.O.
Bubeck could tell us nothing.
Wednesday, February 6th, we threw away the results of two months of investigation. We went back and started from the beginning.
Despite all precautions and warnings, the checks kept coming in at the rate of half a dozen a week.
The same M.O. was used, the same handwriting showed up in the signatures on the checks.
Again, with the help of the staff and the statistician's office and the record bureau, we waded through hundreds of names of known checkmen and compiled a new list of 38 possible suspects.
Each one fitted the general description of the forger. Each one at some time in his forgery career had used the same general method of operation.
Well, after days of legwork, we finally boiled down the list of possible to three names, George Roberts, James Young, and Hariel Johansson.
We got out a flyer to all the small businessmen in the areas where the forger operated.
Another week passed. The worthless checks kept showing up at the rate of two and three a day.
On February 21st, Ben and I answered a call from a drugist in the Echo Park District.
He bought some toothpaste and a carton of cigarettes, Sergeant, asked me to cash a $20 check for him.
Did you ever see the man before, sir?
No, he gave me the same old story about being new in the neighborhood. That's when I remembered that police bulletin the department sent me.
Do you still have that bulletin?
No, I looked it over and then I guess it got mislaid.
I wonder if you'd mind taking a look at these pictures here.
Not at all.
These right here.
Sure. This one right on top, that's the man.
Are you sure?
I am. It only happened a few hours ago. Do you know who he is?
Harry O. Johansson. That's the name we have on him.
Doesn't mean anything to me.
He got real huffy when I wouldn't take his checks. Stalked right out of the store. Very suspicious.
Did you follow him?
No, I told Ralph, my clerk, to follow him. Ralph?
Yeah, Mr. Butler?
You want to tell these officers about that man this morning?
I followed him down the street for a block and then turned the corner. That's where I lost him.
That's too bad.
Yeah, all I got was a license number.
Music
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September 21st, Thursday, 3 p.m.
We took the license number which the drugstore clerk had given us.
We went back to the office and checked it through DMV.
We found the car was registered to a Russell Burroughs on Pico Boulevard.
We checked him out. He told us that he had loaned his car the day before to a friend of his.
He identified the friend as Harry L. Johansson and gave us his last known address, 614 Elderwood Avenue.
We got out of broadcast on the car.
The Elderwood Avenue address turned out to be a single-story wooden frame house in the southern part of the city on the edge of the industrial district.
It needed a coat of paint.
A woman in her elderly thirties answered the door and identified herself as Mrs. Johansson.
She invited us into the living room. There was a baby playing on the floor.
I don't expect my husband home for another two weeks, Sergeant.
He's a cosmetic salesman. Travels all over the western states.
When did he leave on this last trip, Mrs. Johansson?
The first of the month. Why, is anything wrong?
What's the name of the cosmetics company that your husband works for?
Harrington Universal. Offices are down on East Main.
Do you know a friend of your husband's named Russell Burroughs?
Yes, I do. He's kind of a friend of the family.
Please, Sergeant, if there's anything wrong, I ought to know.
We talked to Mr. Burroughs this afternoon. He told us your husband's in town. Burroughs loaned him his car.
Harry, with that silly of still on the road, he'd certainly let me know if he was coming back early.
You sure of that, ma'am?
Would you excuse me a minute, Sergeant? I'll have to put the baby to bed.
Certainly, ma'am.
Come on, Bonnie. I'll be back in a minute.
Kind of a funny setup, isn't it?
How you mean?
Well, if Johansson's pushing bum checks, the money isn't going into his home here.
Life doesn't act like she knows anything. Seems cooperative.
I'm afraid we're going to have to level with her if we're going to find out anything, huh?
Mm-hmm.
You sure got a cute little girl.
I'm sorry, Sergeant.
It's perfectly all right. Just a few more questions.
Is it possible that your husband could be in town and you might not know it?
I mean, could he be staying with a friend or some relevance?
No, if Harry was in town, he'd come home. Why would he stay with anyone else?
When did you last hear from your husband?
Last week. He wrote from San Francisco.
The letters write there on the mantle.
Oh, huh.
Well, besides that letter, do you have any other samples of your husband's handwriting run out?
Well, I think so, yes.
Where did you say you were from?
Central Division, Forgery Detail.
You investigate checks, bad checks.
Yes, ma'am, that's right.
And you know about my husband.
His prison record, yes.
Harry promised me he was through with all that. He gave me his word.
Sorry, ma'am.
About a month ago, he had some extra money.
He wouldn't tell me where he got it.
Look, Sergeant, maybe you've made a mistake.
Maybe it's not Harry at all. You're not sure, are you?
Did your husband use the phone much, I mean, for out-of-town calls, say?
No.
Just that one toll call, a Long Beach number, I think.
He has a business friend down there he used to call.
Do you know the number, ma'am?
I can show you. It's on last month's phone bill.
Please, Sergeant, if Harry's done something wrong, he did it for us.
Me and the baby. Harry's not bad.
Yes, ma'am.
He's done something. He did it for us.
Harry hasn't had it easy.
He wanted to get things for the baby.
Clothes, a better house. All he wanted was a little happiness.
A little happiness.
You had it wrong, ma'am.
You don't buy it with bum checks.
Before we left Mrs. Johansson, we called and had a stakeout placed on the house.
And then we got a sample of her husband's handwriting and the Long Beach telephone number that he was in the habit of calling.
The next morning, Don Myers and handwriting compared Harry Johansson's letter with the signatures on the worthless checks.
It matched.
We called the Harrington Universal Cosmetics Company. They never heard of Harry Johansson.
We called that Long Beach phone number. A woman answered and gave us the address where the telephone was installed.
Turned out to be a swanky modern apartment house.
In apartment 18, we interviewed a good-looking brunette.
She identified herself as Harry Johansson's common-law wife.
She was well dressed and the apartment was richly furnished.
What's it all about? What do you want, Harry?
Police business. You know where he is?
Well, what's he done?
Do you know where he is?
He drove into Hollywood this morning. He might be back tonight. I don't know for sure.
Is this your apartment?
Yeah. Mine and Harry's.
You're sure that Johansson's not here now?
Of course I'm sure. Why?
Well, you won't mind if we come in and look around, huh?
I have a right to know what it's all about.
Johansson's wanted for forgery. Now if you want to get involved, you help him hide out.
I'm not asking for that kind of trouble. Go ahead and look.
Take the bedroom, will you, Ben?
All right.
Never mind, cop.
Thanks for the help, honey.
I don't want any part of your troubles, Harry.
I didn't know a thing about it, Johansson.
Ben.
Yeah.
You better come along too, lady.
Well, tell him, Harry. I don't know what it's about.
What's the idea of getting me mixed up in this?
How do you think I was paying for this place?
Taking you out and buying us clothes for you.
I don't want any part of it.
Three-room apartment, a couple of dresses. That's all he ever got me.
You got no complaints, lady. That's more than he bought his kids.
One p.m. Friday, Ben and I took Harry Johansson to the county jail where he was booked for suspicion of forgery.
We called Mrs. Johansson and notified her.
She immediately contacted friends and relatives and raised enough money for a writ to have her husband released from jail.
Three days later, Johansson was arraigned on a date set for his preliminary hearing.
After the arraignment, Ben and I took him back to the county jail for re-booking.
I'd like to ask you a question, Johansson.
Yeah?
You got any money of your own left?
Why don't you stick to your own business, copper?
That family of yours is having a pretty rough time.
Your wife borrowed every cent she could find to bail you out. Now what's she gonna live on?
She's got relatives.
No, I was the elevator.
Come on, Johansson.
They're not gonna put me back in Fulton. Not in a hundred years.
You've done two stretches already for hanging paper. You should have known better, mister.
You got it all figured out, haven't you, fuzz? Well, I'm not going back.
Take it easy. You got a couple of more weeks on bail before the trial.
Yeah. A couple of weeks.
What's the matter with you? Don't you feel well?
They won't get me back to Fulton.
You're not making it any easier on yourself. All right, Archie.
Don't you cops understand? I hate it. Every lousy bit of it. I'm not going back to Fulton.
I'm not going back. Now, do you understand?
That's a good idea, mister. You remember that when you get out.
We booked Harry Johansson into county jail. His bail was continued and he was released pending a trial.
During the next week, along with the district attorney's office, Ben and I helped prepare the case against Johansson.
Three days before the trial opened, we had a phone call from Mrs. Johansson.
She told us that her husband had disappeared.
Although there was nothing we could do until he actually failed to appear in Superior Court at the appointed time.
On Monday, April 3rd, the case of the state versus Harry L. Johansson officially opened.
The defendant failed to show. A bench warrant was immediately issued and we got out of broadcast and an APB on the suspect.
Stakeouts were placed in his house and at the apartment of his common law wife.
Two days passed. No sign of him.
Nothing, Joe. Pummelay just checked it out.
How about those two ex-con pals of Johansson's? Did you check with them?
Yeah, nothing there. I don't see how it can last out much longer. One suit of clothes, no money.
He's still got a checkbook. When did the skipper say he was coming back?
Around 7.30 tonight. 7.15 now.
I'll get it.
Forgery Friday.
Joseph, this is your mother.
Oh, yeah. Hi, Ma.
I forgot to tell you when you called earlier. You're supposed to be home tonight by 8 o'clock.
What's that, Ma?
Mary Fowler. She's coming over to visit tonight and Genevieve's coming with her.
Yeah, well, look, will you try to explain to them that I'm working and I can't get away, huh?
Well, all right, Joseph. I'll try.
If I possibly can, I'll try to make it home by 10. Will that be all right?
All right, Joseph. I'll see what I can do. Genevieve's going to be disappointed.
Yeah. If I'm later than that, don't wait up for me, huh?
Yes, all right then.
Bye, Ma.
Yes. Bye, Joseph.
Oh, thanks, Giver. The call just came in.
Yeah?
I found Johansson.
Captain Elliott, Ben, and I drove out the highway to the Tehunga Wash.
We turned off and headed into the Mount Gleason area.
Captain Elliott directed us onto a dirt road halfway up one of the mountains.
We spotted a group of cars pulled off on the shoulder of the road.
We parked behind them, got out, and started over.
Who found the cars, Giver?
One of the people living back in the hills.
We spotted it on our way home from work.
Hmm.
Horn and got here in a hurry.
Yeah. Hi, Dave.
How you doing, Joe? Captain Elliott.
How long has he been dead?
Since last night, I figure. Come on over.
You talked to the man who found Johansson's body, Dave?
Yeah, he didn't touch a thing.
What'd you find?
Powder burns on the temple, powder on the hands.
Boys from Homicide found the note.
It's on the seat right next to him.
Here it is here. It's been checked.
Yeah, thanks.
All ties in, huh, Dave?
Pretty tight, yeah.
Gene Bechdel from Homicide wants to talk to you, Captain.
Okay, be right back, Joe.
Right.
Who do you address the note to, Joe's wife?
No, my girlfriend.
Look what he wrote it on.
Yeah, blank check.
The story you've just heard was true.
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On April 9th, an inquest was held in the coroner's office
on the main floor of the Hall of Justice, Los Angeles, California.
In a moment, the results of that inquest.
And now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you.
The working detective comes in contact with many people in his daily tour of duty,
people who are willing to cooperate, and those who won't even try.
It's a difficult task, but the police officer has been trained
to try to please everybody to the best of his ability.
So with a cigarette.
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On April 9th, the coroner's jury returned a verdict that the death of Harry L. Johansson
was caused by a gunshot wound in the head, self-inflicted.
You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files.
Technical advice for Dragnet comes from the Office of Chief of Police,
W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department.
Fatima cigarettes, the best of all long cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet from Los Angeles.
Coming up, Duffy's Tavern.
More good times on NBC.