The story you are about to hear is true.
Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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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 transcribed from official
police violence.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
It was Tuesday, May 7th.
It was mild in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of juvenile bureau.
My partner's Ben Romero, the boss is Inspector Bowling, commander, juvenile division.
My name's Friday.
It was 10.13 a.m. when I got to 1335 Georgia Street, second floor.
The squad room.
Hi.
Hi, Ben.
Did you pick up that latest run the stats office made for?
No, I don't think they got it ready yet.
Oh, the sand in the book, it's been ready since yesterday.
You were over there, you could have picked it up.
Oh, yeah?
What's the matter with you this morning?
Don't you feel good?
No, just this stinkin' cold seems to be settling in my chest.
Measurable.
Yes, sir?
Can I help you?
Yes.
I'd like some information, please.
This is the juvenile bureau, isn't it?
Yeah, that's right, sir.
What can we do for you?
Oh, mind if I sit down?
Climbing those stairs takes your breath away.
Yeah, sure.
Here you are.
Thank you.
My name's Wayne Kenworthy, officers out here on the convention.
My home is in Minnesota.
Mm-hmm.
Went out last night with some of the boys at the convention.
We stopped at a bar down on your Alvarado Street.
Alvarado.
Anyway, we were drinking there and the bartender got to talking to us.
Finally offered us some pictures for sale.
I got one of them right here.
Let's see.
Oh, yeah.
There you are.
I paid him $2 for it.
Just look at that.
It's filth.
Do you have the address of the bar where you bought this?
Yes, sir, I have.
That's not the reason I'm here, though.
I'm not a one-man moral squad.
I'm not the type that makes a habit of buying obscene photographs of young girls, either.
Yes, sir, we understand.
And I bought this picture from that bartender because I know the young girl in it.
She's the daughter of one of my neighbors back home in Minnesota.
Known her ever since she was a baby.
This girl came out here about eight months ago to live with a girlfriend.
She was crazy for Holly, but thought she might break into the movies or something.
She stopped writing her folks about two months ago.
Hasn't been heard from since.
Well, it sounds like a case for a missing persons bureau, Mr. Kenway.
Well, the girls' folks have already contacted them.
Nothing's been turned up.
Nothing at all.
Then last night, just by an accident, the bartender shows me this photograph.
It's that girl, all right.
No mistake.
Well, we'll do everything we can to help straighten it out, see?
Well, that young girl I know.
Known her since she was a baby.
Good family, good training.
She never would have posed for a photograph like this.
Rotten filth.
She's just not the type, that's all.
Yes, sir, we understand.
What was this young girl's name, Mr. Kenway?
Lois Brewster.
That's her real name.
Well, she wrote her folks she was using another name while she was out here.
Thought it might help her movie chances.
Drake, I think that's what it was.
Linda Drake?
Yeah, that's right.
About five foot four, 115 pounds, dark hair, dark eyes.
That's right.
Yeah.
You know where she is?
Oh, yeah, we do.
We had her case called to our attention.
Where is she?
Is she all right?
No, sir, she's dead.
Two days before Mr. Kenway, they walked into juvenile bureau.
The body of a young girl had been washed up on the shore just below the beach town of
Venice.
Apparently, she'd taken her own life.
The girl was a brunette, attractive, not more than 17 years old.
There was no identification on the body except for a rent receipt found in one of the pockets
of a cotton jacket that the girl had been wearing.
The rent receipt was made out to Linda Drake.
It was signed R.L. King, 876 Peoria Avenue.
The address was checked out and R.L. King was found to be the girl's landlady.
After identifying the body, she told investigating officers that Lois Brewster, alias Linda Drake,
had lived at her rooming house with a girlfriend for about six months.
That girlfriend's name was Joyce Fowler.
The landlady went on to explain that the two girls had moved out about a week before without
leaving a forwarding address.
The Fowler girl had said that she would call back for any mail that might be delivered
to the Peoria Avenue address.
Had been no other leads to the dead girl's background or identity until her former neighbor
from Minnesota, Mr. Wayne Kenworthy, showed up.
Later that day, Ben and I met with Inspector Bowling and briefed him.
Dirty rotten business.
I'll buy that.
How far have you gotten with it?
Back the dead girl's clunts with a missing persons bill from Miss Lois Brewster.
We notified the girl's parents in Minnesota.
They're coming out to claim the body.
It's pretty tragic.
She's an only daughter.
Seventeen years old.
Same old story we figure, skipper.
Some phony talent scout grabbed her and showed her the bright lights, got her to pose for
those pictures one way or another.
That can make a teenage girl go one of a hundred directions after that.
Now this one ended up on a beach.
That's all I care about now.
How about the girlfriend Lois Brewster was living with?
Joyce Fowler?
Oh, no word so far.
What about it, any ideas?
Well, it pretty much depends on finding this Joyce Fowler.
There's no background on her.
We got out on all points.
How about phony talent scouts?
Cheap modeling schools, photographers, check out that angle.
We put four of them away in the past six months.
Another half dozen are being watched.
We can start double checking them tomorrow.
How about that picture of that old fellow Ken where they brought in?
Any lead there?
We gathered a dozen samples just like it.
One's as bad as the other.
They're all printed on the same quality photographic paper.
There's no markings of any kind on them.
It's a common type of paper.
All right, then get on the distribution angle.
Stay on it.
Every rotten bum that peddles this trash.
You get them.
I want them right up the line.
Distributors, wholesalers, guy that prints the pictures, guy that takes them every lousy
one up.
I still can't figure.
What's that?
Oh, the Brewster girl.
It was a good home there, good training.
She knew right from wrong.
Kids don't forget that in a hurry.
That might have been her trouble.
How do you mean?
She remembered it.
Wednesday, May 8th.
Six teams of men from juvenile division working in conjunction with the detective bureau.
Started the drive against the obscene literature and photography traffic.
Within two weeks, more than a dozen wholesalers, distributors and small time peddlers have
been apprehended and were awaiting prosecution.
But we still had failed to uncover any new leads in the Lois Brewster case.
The roommate, Joyce Fowler, the all important witness in the case was still missing.
No trace of her.
The dead girl's parents arrived in the city, claimed the body and took it back to Minnesota
for burial.
The drive continued.
Another week passed.
On May 29th, on a tip from a usually reliable informant, Ben and I checked out a small photographic
studio on Sunset Boulevard operated by an Amal Joseph Martin.
He was sullen and uncooperative.
We checked through his files.
Just what I told you, a few special shots.
I keep files away just for laughs.
Once in a while, a friend drops in.
I print one of them up for him.
Yeah, hold that one up to the life.
Some of them are nice looking dolls, huh?
I print one up for my friends once in a while.
What kind of friends do you have?
What?
How about this negative here, Martin?
Do you mind printing this one up for us now?
Sure, officer, my compliments.
How many copies you want?
One's enough.
If you say so.
Let's see.
One of the best.
I'll print it up right now.
This way.
This one's a real collector's item, you know.
They're right.
A friend of mine got me the negative.
A hundred bucks it cost me.
Worth it, though.
I'll make up a couple of prints for you, huh?
One's good.
Okay, anything you say.
You want to get that light switch?
Oh, yeah, I'll get it.
All right.
Yeah, beautiful negative.
Yeah, you picked a good one, all right.
Yeah, get the paper in here.
Yeah, that does it.
Okay, one print.
That's all you want?
That's all.
Okay, let's put it in the soap.
Yeah, I bet you get a kick out of this one.
Real beautiful girl.
How'd you happen to get a hold of this negative?
You take the picture?
No, a friend of mine got it for me.
He cost me a C-note.
There we go.
Put it in the stubber.
There we go.
How about that?
How about the guy you got this negative from?
Did he take the picture?
No, he bought it from somebody else.
Don't know who.
Cost him $350.
Worth it, though, huh?
All right.
And then, you know...
We've seen her before.
Oh, that's so.
You know her?
Only from her pictures.
Oh.
Of course, you understand I didn't take the picture.
I just bought a negative, that's all.
You couldn't tag me for that, could you?
We're going to try, mister.
Get your coat.
Oh, no.
Wait a minute, how, officers.
I'm small fry in this operation.
You know that.
You want the big fish, right?
We want all of you.
You know who they are?
Well, some, maybe.
Must be worth something to you.
Well, you know better than that, Martin.
If you cooperate, we'll mention it in our report.
That's all we can do.
No promises.
Not a very good offer.
You're not in a very good position.
Yeah.
Ah, bye.
All right, I'll tell you.
Amal J. Martin was booked at city jail for violation of 311 P.C.
His file of lewd photographs and negatives were impounded and booked as evidence.
With the help of information which the suspect had given us,
we were able to round up three wholesalers and another distributor of obscene books and photographs.
Each one of them was questioned thoroughly.
We ran into the same old routine.
They denied knowing anything about the man who was masterminding a racket or where he was operating from.
The Lois Brewster case dragged on.
No progress.
In virtually every case of tracing the lewd pictures to the point of production,
the investigating officers were able to link the small-time peddlers to their distributor
and the distributor to the wholesaler.
That's where it stopped, a dead end.
Beyond that, nobody knew anything about the operation of the racket.
Stakeouts were set up at locations where sales and deliveries of obscene material were known to have been made.
Nothing happened.
The drive stalled. Thursday, June 11th.
Amal, Joe.
Yes, Giver?
First piece of news, no more than the policewoman just called it in.
Yeah?
Lois Brewster's girlfriend, Joyce Fowler.
Yeah?
She's been found.
The Lois Brewster Case
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Music
Like most organized crime, the traffic in obscene literature and photographs
is a racket jealously guarded because of its heavy profit.
It's nationwide and every year it nets millions of dollars
for underworld promoters and their employees.
As an organized business, it's one of the most vicious and insidious rackets that exist today,
despite the fact that many citizens regard it lightly.
Thursday, June 11th, 10 a.m., Ben and I met with policewoman Paula Johnson.
She told us that the previous evening, Joyce Fowler,
the girl Lois Brewster had been living with, had gotten into a brawl
with an unidentified man at a bar on Sunset Boulevard.
Police officers arriving at the scene identified her as the missing girl
and handed her over to juvenile authorities.
At 10.30 a.m., Joyce Fowler was brought to the interrogation room.
She was a tall brunette, fairly attractive.
She looked older than her age.
Together with policewoman Paula Johnson, Ben and I questioned her.
I was out on a date with this man. We were sitting at the bar
and he started saying things I didn't like.
What a row that's all.
The man seemed quite a bit older than you, Joyce.
Was he a good friend of yours?
Friend. He was about 50, I guess.
I thought he was all right. He wasn't.
How old are you, Joyce?
21.
We've checked your background, Joyce. You might as well tell the truth.
All right, I'm 17. I'll be 18 next week.
Look, can I go get an aspirin? I've got a terrible headache.
I got something in my locker.
Goodbye, Ben.
Okay.
I still don't know why I'm here. What do you want to know?
You were a good friend of Lois Brewster's. You lived with her, is that right?
Is that why I'm here?
It's one of the reasons.
Lois spent eight months out here before her death.
As far as these officers know, you lived with her during those eight months.
We want to find out what happened to her.
We want to find out what's happening to you.
Nothing's happening to me. I can take care of myself.
That's what Lois Brewster thought, Joyce.
How about her? You tell us.
She didn't know what she was doing. I don't know what happened to her.
I'm to blame for bringing her out here, but it's not my fault what happened to her.
It's not my fault.
Well, whose fault is it?
All of them. The whole rotten, dirty bunch of them.
Here's your aspirin.
Are two of them being enough?
Thanks.
I'll get some water.
Is something wrong, Joyce? Did you feel well?
I'll be all right.
All right. Here you are.
Thanks.
I don't remember too well how it started.
Lois came out to Hollywood to live with me for six months, you know.
Yeah, we know.
We tried to get modeling jobs, bid parts in the movies.
We didn't have much luck.
We had to eat, pay the rent.
So we took jobs as waitresses at a drive-in place out on Santa Monica Boulevard.
Are you still working there?
No, we were only there two weeks, then we got this other job.
That's when it started.
What was that?
One day these two men drove in with a brand new Cadillac, ordered a couple of cokes.
I could tell they were watching as Lois and me.
When they were leaving, they gave me a card. They said they were talent scouts.
They asked us to come to their offices for interviews.
You still have the card they gave you?
No, I looked for it once. I guess I lost it.
Would you go on, please?
The older fellow's name was Fred Ramis.
The other one was Mr. Gilbert.
They were both very nice. We didn't think anything was wrong.
Didn't you go for the interview?
Yes, Lois and I both went.
They talked to us a lot, had us read out of a script, walk up and down.
They said both of us showed a lot of promise.
They said they wanted to be our agents, so we signed a paper.
Fred Ramis told us he'd see we got a break.
Did either of them ever arrange any legitimate interviews for you?
I mean, with the movie studios, radio, television, anything like that?
No, they took us out quite a bit, restaurants, nightclubs.
Told us we had to be seen around town first.
Had to show us off to the producers, all the important movie people.
Both of them were very nice.
Did you keep on working at the drive-in?
No, they had me and Lois quit the job. They said it wouldn't look right.
We still had to eat, we still had to pay our rent.
That's when they brought up the idea of the pictures.
What pictures do you mean, Joyce?
I'm sorry, could I have some more water, please?
Oh, yeah?
Fred Ramis and Mr. Gilbert took us out to a big nightclub one night.
Fred told us that if Lois and I had some good pictures taken of ourselves,
he could show them around and get us jobs as models.
That is till we got a break in the movies.
Here you are. Thanks.
After that time, how long had you known these two men?
About a month and a half.
I didn't see anything wrong in it, so Lois and I went to this photographer's studio with Mr. Ramis
and we had our portraits taken, regular pictures.
Excuse me, Joyce, did both of these men know how old your girls were?
We told them the truth. We were both 17.
What happened after that?
Mr. Ramis came back and said he'd found an advertising agency
that wanted to buy pictures of Lois and me.
He said we'd get $20 apiece every time we posed.
For her portraits?
No, for posing in bathing suits, pajamas, things like that.
They were supposed to be for magazine ads.
In about a week he brought us to his office and said the agency wanted us to pose without clothes,
without anything. He said he'd pay us $40 for that.
I'll go on chart.
They showed us lots of pictures of models like that. They talked about it all the time.
He kept saying no, both of us, Lois and I.
Did you ever agree to pose for the kind of pictures they wanted?
You can't agree to something you don't know about.
I don't know how it happened, but it did.
Mr. Gilbert and Fred Ramis, they kept taking us out.
We used to drink quite a bit with them.
Went on for weeks, I guess.
One night there was a big party. We drank.
Lois and I got separated. I still don't know what happened.
I see.
Next morning we both woke up with headaches.
Fred Ramis came and showed us the pictures.
I felt dirty all over.
I don't know how it happened, I swear it.
Lois began to cry. I hit Mr. Ramis. I slapped him.
What did Mr. Ramis tell you?
He pretended to be very nice about it.
Said he'd pay us well if we go on posing for pictures, the kind he wanted.
If we didn't, he said he'd wreck any chance we might have in Hollywood.
Said he'd see that the pictures got out,
threaten to send copies to our families and our friends back home.
Didn't you think of going to the police?
We talked about it.
We were afraid of the publicity, the newspapers.
We just kept going on, doing what he said.
It was like a nightmare.
Kept getting worse, we kept getting in deeper.
Sergeant, you should have that envelope.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
You recognize these pictures, Joyce?
Yes.
Mr. Ramis and Mr. Gilbert, they have you posed for these?
Yes, that's some of them.
We always drank a lot so we wouldn't remember.
That's not why Lois is dead, though. Those pictures aren't the reason.
Well, how do you mean, Joyce?
Ramis and Gilbert, they'd fix updates for us.
They said the men were their friends.
Three or four times a week they'd call. We had to go out with them.
We had to do what they said.
Hmm.
One morning we got home about 5.30 in the morning.
Lois changed. Said she was going for a walk.
I went to bed.
I didn't have to know.
I never saw her again.
I see.
Romero.
Oh, yeah, just a minute.
It's that long distance call we placed at your home, Joyce.
Sure am.
Oh, thanks.
Hello?
Yeah, it's me, Joyce.
Yeah, it was just a mistake.
Yeah.
How's Uncle Henry?
It's well.
No, no, it's all right.
Don't you worry.
Yeah, all right. I'll write you tomorrow.
Yeah, bye.
Thanks for placing the call, Sergeant.
You're welcome. Glad to do it.
Anything else you want to know?
Yeah, there's just one more thing.
Do you still have that note that Lois Brewster wrote before she died?
No, I lost it. I remember what it said, though.
Yeah.
It said, I'm sorry. It was signed Lois. That's all.
Joyce Fowler supplied us with the addresses of Fred Ramis and his partner, Gilbert.
She gave us all the names and addresses of all their friends and employees that she knew of.
She also pointed out their offices and base of operations.
Inspector Bowling ordered an immediate investigation into the background and business activities of both men.
Previously convicted wholesalers and distributors of obscene photographs were called back in and re-questioned.
We finally completed the missing link in the supply line from the peddler to the producer.
Five former workers for Ramos and Gilbert fingered them as head men controlling the racket.
Their offices and studios were raided and their files seized as evidence.
On June 18th, Fred Ramis and his partner, Harold Gilbert, were placed under arrest.
What's the picture, Sergeant? What's this all about?
I think you know, Mr. Ramis.
You can't tag me on those pictures.
What do you think it is?
It's a piece of art. It's a legitimate piece of art. My lawyer can prove that.
He'd better be good.
He better be.
You know, I'm kind of surprised that you can't say you know a word to somebody like that Fowler girl.
She doesn't know what she's talking about. She's a psycho.
Is that right?
Why, sure. I tried to do something with her and that girlfriend of hers.
They signed up as their agent. They were hopeless.
You've got quite a stack of negatives here. Pictures of both of them. 17 year olds.
Ah, they're just candid shots, you know. Spicy for my private collection.
There's nothing wrong in that. I figured I'd give the girls a break, let them earn a few bucks.
Look, I couldn't have treated those girls better. I took them around, showed them the town.
Both psychos. I never did trust them.
Well, that's the big difference, Ramis. They trusted you.
Fred Ramis and Harold Gilbert were brought downtown to Inspector Bowling's office.
Joyce Fowler was seated next to the desk. Gilbert was brought in. She identified him.
He was taken out and held for booking.
All right, bring in the next one.
All right, come on.
Yeah.
Can you identify this man, Miss Fowler?
Yes. He's Fred Ramis.
What's the trouble, Joyce? Weren't you satisfied with what I was paying you?
Could have settled this between ourselves. If you had any beef, she could have come to me.
You're lucky, Fred. I'd kill you now if I could.
Oh, Joyce, come on now. Sit down.
All right, Sloane. Take him out.
Joyce, sit down. Come on, sit down.
Be back in a minute, Joe.
All right.
I'm sorry. It doesn't do any good. Are there any more?
No, that's about all. You've helped quite a lot.
Yeah, I'm glad I could do it. Is that all, Sergeant?
Well, for now, yeah. You'll have to testify at the trial.
After that, the juvenile court's going to keep in pretty close touch with you.
I see.
Aren't you going back home, Joyce, to Minnesota?
No, it'd be the same old thing. My aunt would be glad to see me for the first week.
Then she'd start all over again, hollering at me, picking. Wouldn't be any use.
What are you going to do out here, Joyce? You know?
I know a nice fella in Santa Monica. He's going to get me a job at a brand new drive-in.
Cute uniforms.
But I don't think juvenile court's going to let you take a job like that, Joyce.
I hope so. A lot of talent scouts go there, radio, movie producers. They might notice me.
Yeah?
Never can tell. Might lead to something.
The story you have just heard was true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent.
On October 4th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 91, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
In a moment, the results of that trial.
Now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
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Fred Ramus and Harold Gilbert were tried and convicted on several counts of rape and lewd conduct.
They received sentences as prescribed by law and are now serving their terms in the state penitentiary.
You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files.
The medical advice for Dragnet comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department.
This is Bob Hope. Can we steal a second?
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See you Tuesday.
Fatima cigarettes, the best of all long cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet, portions transcribed from Los Angeles.
Coming up, we the people, with stories of today on NBC.
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