The story you are about to hear is true.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned a traffic investigation.
Hit run felony detail.
An elderly woman and her nine-year-old grandson are struck down in a pedestrian crosswalk
by a speeding truck.
The woman is killed instantly.
Witnesses fail to get the license number.
The hit run driver escapes.
Your job?
Find 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 transcribed from official
police files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
It was Tuesday, December 21st.
It was windy in Los Angeles.
We were working the night watch out of traffic division hit-and-run felony detail.
My partner is Ben Romero.
The boss is Captain Calfee, Commander AID.
My name is Spridey.
It was 10.51 p.m. when we got to the Carlton Theater, the box office.
Thank you.
How many, please?
Police officers, ma'am.
I'd like to talk to you for a minute, if you could.
Oh, yes.
I'd like to talk to you for a minute, if you could.
Oh, yes.
You mean about the accident?
Yes, ma'am.
One of the officers in the traffic car across the street, he told us you're one of the people
who saw it happen.
Yes, that's a terrible thing.
It was an old lady and a grandson, you know.
Yes, ma'am.
Would it be possible for you to get a relief for a little while?
A few questions we'd like to ask you about it.
It won't take very long.
Well, I'll be off duty at 11.
That's when the box office closes.
Eight minutes to 11 now.
Would you like to wait?
All right, ma'am.
Fine.
Cold wind out there.
Would you like to wait in here?
Right on back here.
I'll open the door for you.
All right, ma'am.
Thank you.
Yeah, it's nice and warm.
Did anybody get the license number?
Do you know, officer?
I mean on that truck that ran them down.
No, not that we know of.
We understand the officers in the traffic car talked to you.
You didn't see the number either?
No, I'm sorry.
I didn't.
The whole thing happened so fast.
I saw the old lady grab the little boy, pull him next to her.
It was an awful thing.
The truck hit them both together.
It's funny the things you notice.
The boy was carrying a little box of candy.
I heard this terrible thud when the truck hit them.
I looked and the candy was spilled all over the street.
I just couldn't help it.
I got sick to my stomach.
Yes, ma'am.
I can understand.
Now about this truck that ran them down, do you think you'd know it if you ever saw it
again?
Well, I'm not sure.
I think I might, yes.
It was one of those delivery trucks, you know.
I think you'd call it a panel truck.
There was a light tan color all over and there was black lettering on the side.
Could you make out any of the lettering at all?
Well, I think there were three or four words painted on the side and I know one of them
was bakery.
I'm sure of that.
Did you recognize what make of truck it was, ma'am?
Did you hear the model?
It was a late model.
I'm pretty sure of that.
Either a Chevrolet or a Ford, I'd say.
One of those regular delivery trucks like some bakeries use.
You sure about that word you saw lettered on the side?
It said bakery.
Yes, I'm positive of that.
Now, anything else out of the ordinary that you might have noticed about the truck, ma'am?
Anything outstanding that might have caught your eye?
No, I'm sorry, officer.
That's about all I can tell you.
How is the old lady?
Do you know her and the little boy?
Could they tell you anything?
Yes, ma'am.
The woman's dead.
She was killed instantly.
They've taken the youngster over to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital.
Afraid he's in pretty bad shape, too.
Terrible shame.
Poor old lady.
She lives right here in the neighborhood, you know.
I've seen her shopping in the market next door here, Saturday afternoon.
It's just tragic.
Yes, ma'am, it is.
Boy's her grandson, you know.
Somebody said he was down visiting her for the Christmas vacation.
He seemed like a nice kid, well behaved.
He seemed so proud of him.
It should be a sad Christmas for the family.
Just one more question, ma'am.
When the boy and his grandmother were crossing the street, would you say the visibility was
good?
I mean, is there any reason why it would have been hard for a driver to see them?
No reason in the world, officer.
It's a clear night.
You can see how well the intersection's lighted up.
All the Christmas lights strung up along here.
The lights from the theater marquee.
It was just as well lighted then as it is now.
Yeah, I see.
The intersection was perfectly clear.
No other cars around.
The boy had a white sweater on.
The old lady was wearing a light colored coat.
Certainly easy to see the traffic light, too.
It said, stop.
I can't understand why that driver didn't see him.
No, ma'am, neither can we.
How could anybody do such a thing?
It just isn't any excuse for it.
No excuse in the world.
Downright murder.
Well, maybe that explains it.
Why?
That's why I kept going.
11.35 p.m.
Ben and I finished interviewing the cashier in the theater box office, and then we called
the office and had them get out a supplementary broadcast and an APB on the description of
the hit and run vehicle.
We went back across the street to the scene of the accident where the officers in the
tea car, along with the crew from the crime lab, were finishing up their preliminary investigation.
We interviewed two more witnesses to the hit run accident, but they were unable to tell
us anything that we didn't already know.
When we got back to the office, we put in a call to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital
where they told us the nine-year-old boy struck down to the hit run driver was still in a
critical condition.
The husband of the 64-year-old woman, who had been killed instantly, was brought downtown
to the morgue where he identified the body.
The next morning, we got out a special bulletin to all garages, auto repair, and paint shops
throughout the city to be on the lookout for a late model tan panel truck, black lettering
on the side with damage to the front end.
8.30 a.m.
I checked with communications, and then I went back to the office.
Hi.
Just checked with Georgia Street, Joe.
Asked him about the boy.
The old 80s grandson, how's he doing?
About the same, critical condition.
That's about all they'll say.
That's a lousy shame.
Did you get any kickback on the old points yet?
No, nothing at all.
Did you get in touch with the crime lab?
Yeah, they're not gonna be able to help much.
What'd they find out there, anything at all?
Just what we saw.
Two small pieces of glass, probably from one of the headlights on the truck.
They don't think they're gonna be able to do much with them.
There's not enough where to go on.
That's the only physical evidence they got, huh?
That's all.
Might be able to tie it down a little tighter if we could find that panel.
Yeah.
Did you start checking on that bakery truck angle yet?
McGowan and I called every bakery in town and got it pretty well narrowed down.
There's only two companies that use 10 late model panels for delivery trucks.
Only one of them uses black lettering on the sides of the truck.
Other companies say they use red lettering.
Which one has the black?
I got it right here.
An outfit called Nielsen's Wholesale Bakery.
They got a fleet of 100-dollar black lettering on both sides, late model Ford delivery truck.
Did they tell you whether or not any of their drivers could have been making deliveries
that time of night, 10, 30, 11 o'clock?
Yeah, there were about a dozen of them out on deliveries.
More up into account for it than that, though.
How do you mean?
All their drivers are allowed to take the trucks home with them when they are off duty if they
want to.
Yeah.
I'm afraid he's going to mean checking out every one of them, Joe.
Well, we might as well get moving on it.
They're going to give us some kind of a list to work with, are they?
Yeah, got it all set up with them.
Again?
Uh-huh.
Accident Investigation of Merrill.
Oh, yes, sir.
That's him.
Uh-huh, I see.
You're right, thank you.
Rotten deal.
Yeah, what's the matter?
That young kid, the grandson.
Yeah.
He just died.
Many times and on many different occasions, the police officer has it proved to him that
there can be very little difference between a crime of neglect and a crime that's been
willfully premeditated.
If you look at it closely enough, you can judge it for yourself.
How much difference, for example, as far as moral guilt is concerned, is there between
the following.
Number one, a man who plans a killing, takes up a gun, finds his victim, and shoots him
to death.
Or number two, the man who thinks he has to look out for no one's welfare but his own,
gets behind the wheel of a car, disregards the ordinary rules of safety, and proceeds
to commit homicide with a motor vehicle.
Oftentimes, the crime masquerades under the guise of an accident.
Morally, no matter how you spell it, it adds up to murder just as surely as if the person
had taken a gun and shot the victim down.
The way it looked to us, the hit and run killing of the elderly woman and her grandson was
a prime example.
In Principal Nilsen's house, a heavy train r longe of 9 Yankees, about 80 yards away,
arrived at his files, asking him to find the elimination spoiled
out.
There were men armed with steelworks who had a cattle magazine and subject to a joint
killing.
Over.
we located one of the trucks with recent damage to the front end.
We checked and found the driver's name was Arthur V. Singer.
We drove out to his home to interview him.
No, I wasn't working last night, officer. I was off. What's it all about?
Did you spend the night at home, Mr. Singer, or were you out?
I was home part of the time. After dinner, I went downtown to a little bowling.
Our neighborhood team bowls every Tuesday night.
Where is that, sir?
Place downtown. It's on West 7th. Got a pretty good team.
Did you drive down, Mr. Singer, or did you take the bus?
No, I drove down, had the company truck with me.
I'd excuse them when we're off duty. We pay for the gas.
Did you drive down by yourself, or was there someone else with you?
No, I was alone. The other boys had their cars.
When did you leave the bowling alley, you remember?
Hmm, about 10, 10.15, I'd say.
How'd you drive home, Mr. Singer? I mean, what route did you take?
Oh, I drove straight out West 7th.
Got the Carnato, came over Carnato to the house here.
Why do you want to know?
What time did you get home?
About quarter to 11.
It wouldn't be about that little scrape I had last night, would it?
What was that?
Down at 7th and Grandview, right by Westlake Park there.
Old guy in the car, had he stopped fast right in front of me.
He didn't even signal.
Oh, right.
Yeah, I almost plowed right into him.
Lucky I was watching. I slammed on the brakes, turned in toward the curb.
Should have seen it. I clipped the headlight in the right fender against the telephone pole.
Had to take the truck in this morning, get it fixed up.
Are there any witnesses to this accident that you had, Mr. Singer?
Yeah, half a dozen people saw it.
Did you get any names and addresses?
Well, no, I didn't. I was so teed off about the whole thing, I guess I didn't think about it.
Is there anyone at all we can check with, anybody to corroborate your story?
Just the old guy in that car. Sure a lousy driver. I really chewed him out.
You get his name and address?
No, but I took down his license number.
Wasn't going to pay for that damage. He admitted it was his fault.
I see. Do you mind giving us that license number?
No, if I can find it. Wrote it down on the back of an old envelope.
Thought I'd put it in my jacket when I looked this morning. Wasn't there.
It's around someplace, sir. I'll check around again before I leave for work. It's bound to turn up.
I'd like to have you look for it now, Mr. Singer. If you would, it's pretty important.
Well, I think I get it, officer. What's this all about, anyway?
Preliminary investigation. Want to see if you can find that number for her?
Why? What does it have to do with an investigation? I didn't do anything. That old man was his fault.
Well, a bakery truck was involved in a serious accident last night. The same kind that you were driving.
I'm afraid you're going to need some kind of an alibi, Mr. Singer.
Alibi? I don't know what you mean. Why do I have to have an alibi?
Well, just take my word for it. You're going to need one.
Why do I need one?
Two reasons.
Yeah?
A nine-year-old boy and his grandmother.
We continued questioning the suspect, Arthur Singer, but he denied any knowledge of the hit-run accident the night before at the intersection of Drexel and Pico Boulevard.
We stayed with him while he searched his home for the license number of the car, which he said caused him to have his accident the night before.
After half an hour of looking, he came up with a number scribbled on a scrap of paper, which he'd found back in one corner on the floor of his closet.
We put in a call to our DMV, and they came back with the information that the license number was registered to a Mr. Thomas Foley on Lancashire Boulevard.
We drove out to the address to check with Mr. Foley, but there was nobody home.
We left our car, along with a message to contact us as soon as possible.
Four fifteen p.m. Ben and I got back to the office. At four thirty-five, Mr. Foley returned our call.
Yes, sir, that's right.
Oh, you did, huh?
I see. Well, what time was that, do you remember?
Oh, well, all right, Mr. Foley, thank you very much. We may be contacting you later.
All right, bye.
What'd you get?
Thought this was starting out too easy.
Why would he say it?
Apparently, this Arthur Singer's telling us the truth. Mr. Foley says he did have a little scrape with a bakery truck last night.
Describe Singer as a driver of the truck.
Well, what about the location? Is Foley pretty sure about that?
Grandview and West 7. Said it happened about ten thirty-five last night. That puts Singer about three miles from the scene of the hit run.
It's impossible, Joe.
Yeah.
This Mr. Foley's right, Singer couldn't have done it. Wasn't anywhere near the scene.
Sure thought he was there, didn't you?
We can drive out and double check with Foley.
Can't think of any reason why he'd lie about it, can you?
All right, just I'll get it.
Accident investigation, Friday.
Yeah, Ted.
Where?
Yeah.
Nobody, huh?
Yeah, right away, thanks.
It's moving a little fast. Got a piece of luck here.
Who was it?
Ted Zimmerman. He and McLendon are down south into town.
Yeah?
The hit and run truck. They think maybe they found it.
Four twenty-eight p.m. Ben and I left the office and drove to the south end of the city where we met with Sergeant Zimmerman and McLendon,
a block from where the tan panel bakery truck had been located.
As soon as the truck had been discovered, an immediate stakeout was placed on it.
A code five was broadcast on the vehicle's location, warning all units to stay away so as not to discourage the suspect in case he decided it was safe to return and get the truck.
Ben and I drove down the side street where the truck was parked and got a good look at the front end of it.
The right headlight was damaged and so was the right fender.
While Zimmerman and McLendon remained on stakeout, Ben and I contacted the Nielsen bakery people again, gave them the number of the truck, and they traced down the driver's name for us.
He was listed as Daniel Miller. He'd been employed by the bakery for the past three years and he had a good record.
They told us this was his day off.
Five thirty p.m. We checked at his home address, but his wife told us he wasn't there.
She said that besides driving a truck for the bakery, he also had a part-time job at night.
He worked as a counterman at a small coffee shop out on Wilshire Boulevard.
We drove out to the coffee shop and interviewed him on the job.
No, I'm sorry. I don't know where the truck is. I wish I did.
What happened, Mr. Miller? Was he stolen?
No, no, not exactly. A fellow that comes in here quite a bit, his name's Paul. Good customer.
He borrowed the truck from me last night. Said he'd only be gone an hour. I haven't seen him since.
Where does this man live, this friend of yours, Paul?
Well, to tell you the truth, I don't know. Good customer. He comes in quite a bit at night when I'm working.
Got to know him pretty well. He asked to borrow the truck for an hour. Didn't think much about it. Let him have it.
Is there anything wrong?
What's this Paul's last name, you know?
No, I guess I don't. Never thought to ask him, as a matter of fact.
Guess I never had any reason to.
About what time was it last night that you loaned him the truck?
Little after eight o'clock, I think it was. He said he wanted to take his television set over to a guy he knew and get it fixed.
He told me he'd be back by ten o'clock at the latest.
You don't know where this man lives? You have no idea at all how to get in touch with him?
No, I guess I don't, Sergeant. Why?
You're in the habit of lending the truck to strangers?
No, not usually. Well, what's your beef anyway? What's this all about?
What are your hours here at the coffee shop, Norr? When do you check in for work and when do you leave?
I check in at seven o'clock. I go straight five hours to midnight. That's when we close out midnight.
You worked that shift last night, did you? Seven p.m. straight through to midnight?
That's right. Monday through Saturday. Six days a week. That's the schedule.
Just a part-time job for me, extra dough, you know. My regular job is driving the truck for the bakery.
Was anyone around last night when your friend Paul came in to borrow the truck?
Maybe another customer, a waitress, somebody we could double-check with?
No, there were a couple other customers in the place. Don't know who they were, though.
Why do you have to double-check anyway? I haven't done anything. I loaned Paul a truck, that's all.
Well, have you any way at all of proving you were here from seven to twelve last night?
Must have been some customers you waited on that you remember.
I'm sure there are at least half a dozen of them. They'll tell you I was here.
I'd like to have their names and addresses if you don't mind, Miller.
Yeah. Excuse me a minute, huh? Got a customer waiting on me.
Sure, come on in.
Hi, Dan. I missed you last night.
Hi, Fred. What do you have?
Coffee. A couple of those doughnuts back there, powdered sugar ones.
Okay.
Yeah, me and the missus dropped in for a sandwich after the show last night. We were looking for you.
That so?
You know about ten-thirty? Where were you, Dan?
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7 15 p.m. Wednesday, December 22nd. We continued questioning the hit-run suspect, Daniel Miller, for a full hour.
But he seemed to be unable to account for his time the previous night.
His first story was that he'd been on duty behind the counter in the coffee shop without a break between the hours of 7 p.m. and midnight.
Then after the customer entered and disclosed that he was in the coffee shop at 10 30 the night before and that Miller was nowhere about,
the suspect switched his story.
He said he thought he left the coffee shop briefly for about 15 minutes between 10 30 and 10 45 p.m.
to run down the street to a hotel to say goodbye to some friends of his who were leaving for New York.
We checked at the hotel, but they didn't know Miller and they hadn't seen him the night before.
They were sure of it.
We returned to the coffee shop and took up the questioning of the suspect all over again, but he made little or no sense at all.
Apparently, he was piling up lie after lie in an effort to cover his tracks before and after the hit-and-run murder the night before.
7 48 p.m. Ben and I pulled Miller off the job at the coffee shop and took him downtown to the interrogation room.
I'm telling you, it's the truth.
I wasn't in that truck last night.
I wasn't in an accident.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Well, then give us something to go on Miller.
You've ended three different stories so far, not one of them strong enough to hold water.
I'm telling you the truth.
What are you trying to hang this on me for?
I didn't have a wreck and I didn't kill anybody.
Why are you picking on me?
Because you don't make sense, mister.
You're trying to sell us a story and you haven't got one ounce of proof to back it up.
That bakery truck you're responsible for is the same truck that killed the old woman and the little boy.
Now you come up with a solid story that we can check on it.
You're going to be resting your back in the main jail.
No wonder they call you cops dumb.
I wasn't in that truck last night.
Can't you get that through your heads?
I wasn't in the truck.
I didn't have an accident.
Then prove it to us, Mr. Miller.
That's all we're waiting for.
Listen, call Bill Coulter.
He's a good customer.
He was in last night, I think.
He'll tell you.
Go ahead and call him.
He'll back up what I say.
What's his number? Do you know?
Yeah, I got it.
Yeah, right here in my wallet.
Bill can tell you.
Yeah, here it is.
Thank you.
Hello, William Coulter there, please.
Yes, ma'am. It's important.
All right, will you have him call Michigan 5211?
Yeah, 5211.
That's extension 2512.
Right, thank you very much.
Well, he's busy. He'll call back in a minute.
He'll tell you the truth.
I was in the coffee shop all night.
Just those couple of minutes, I ran down to the hotel
to say goodbye to those friends of mine.
That's the only time I left the place.
How come you couldn't tell us that to begin with, man?
You say you've got nothing to hide.
Why do you have to handle three different stories?
Which one are we supposed to believe?
I got nervous, that's all,
when you first come in and started to ask questions.
I didn't know what was all about.
I didn't know there was any trouble.
I just loaned the truck to this guy, Paul, as a favor.
How'd I know what he was going to do?
Getting himself in a jam like that.
All right, now try to look at it from where we stand, Miller.
You loan out your truck to a man.
You don't know his last name, you don't know where he lives.
You say he must have been driving the truck
when the lady and the boy were killed.
Sure he must have been driving it. I wasn't.
I was back at the coffee shop. I was there until midnight.
All right, then prove it to us.
If you know the man well enough to loan him the truck,
you ought to be able to find him.
They must be Bill Coler. He'll tell you.
Go ahead, see what he said.
Interrogation room, Friday.
Oh, yeah, Mr. Coler.
My name is Sergeant Friday, LAPD, accident investigation.
Friday, yes, sir, that's right.
I wonder if you'd tell me if you know a Daniel Miller.
Mm-hmm.
When's the last time you saw him? Do you remember?
I see.
The place where he works, the coffee shop?
Were you in there last night by any chance?
Did you see Miller in there?
You're sure?
Yes, sir.
No, sir, that's all for now. Thank you very much.
We're going to contact you later on.
Thank you, goodbye.
Well, how about it? He told you, didn't he?
Is that enough for you?
He says he hasn't been in the coffee shop for three days.
9.45 p.m.
Our interrogation of the hit-and-run suspect Daniel Miller went on.
At his suggestion, we called half a dozen people
who he figured might substantiate his alibi,
but none of them were able to.
Miller continued to deny any knowledge of the hit-run killing,
but he still couldn't account for his whereabouts
at the exact hour the nine-year-old boy and his grandmother were run down.
The time element especially didn't work in his favor.
Nothing worked in his favor.
11.30 p.m.
Ben and I took Daniel Miller over to the main jail
where he was booked in on suspicion of 480 V.C.
The following afternoon, his lawyer obtained a writ,
and he was released from custody.
The writ was returnable in five days.
He came immediately to the office to plead with Ben and I to help him find Paul,
the man who'd borrowed his truck and thus clear himself.
We took him up on it.
Either way, we figured we'd get to the bottom of it.
If Miller dreamed up the character Paul to escape blame for the hit-and-run killing,
we were bound to find out sooner or later.
If Miller was telling the truth, we had little reason to believe he was,
and a man named Paul had borrowed the truck the night of the hit-and-run killing,
we were bound to find that out too.
In any event, we had to investigate.
It's the job of the police officer to prove guilt or innocence, not guilt alone.
Two days passed, and then another two.
The Monday following the Christmas weekend, we were ready to call a halt.
I don't know what else we can do. I think we've given enough time, don't you?
The deeper we get into it, the more it looks like Miller's army, and I still can't make up my mind.
Why do you have to be stubborn about it? We've checked every possible angle on this story.
We still haven't announced the proof that this guy Paul he talks about even exists.
We can't string along with Miller forever.
I suppose you're right. We've given him a square enough break on it.
I still got that funny hunch. It's possible he might be telling the truth.
We've gone four straight days on it, Joe, having come across one lead to back up his story.
Too much for me. I can't buy it anymore. Go ahead.
Sergeant.
Oh, how are you, Miller?
I'm okay. Glad to see you. I've been looking for you.
We've been looking for your friend, Miller. Still haven't found a trace of him.
That's why I came down to see you.
A friend of mine called me this morning. He knows this guy Paul I told you about.
He says he saw him last night, going into a hotel down on South Flower.
How come we haven't heard from this friend of yours before?
We've checked through twice on the list of everybody you know.
This fellow's been out of town, just got back yesterday.
When he heard about the jam I was in, he called me about seeing Paul.
This hotel Paul was supposed to have been seen going into. Have you got the address of that?
Yeah, it's over on South Flower, right near 12th.
Want to go over there with me right now? This friend of mine wouldn't kid me. Paul must be there.
You sure about that?
He must be there. I'll bet a month's pay on it.
You might be low, mister.
What?
It's going to cost you a lot more than that.
We went up to the third floor, room 318, but the man registered as Paul Barton wasn't in.
He'd left no word at the desk as to when he'd return.
We sent Miller home and told him to wait for our call.
Ben and I went on stakeout at the hotel.
At 725 that night, Paul Barton returned to his room and we began questioning him.
He showed no signs of being upset. His answers were quick, straightforward, and they seemed to make sense.
The interview went on, a half hour, an hour, and Barton began to grow a little nervous.
He contradicted himself. Big holes began to show up in his story as to how and where he'd spent his time the night of the hit run killing.
8.45 p.m. Ben and I took Barton back to the office.
We found Zimmerman in the squad room and had him phone Miller at his home and ask him to come downtown as soon as possible.
Meantime, we checked Paul Barton through R&I, and then we took him to the interrogation room where the questioning went on.
You're a little mixed up about that, aren't you, Mr. Barton? I thought you said you went to that bar downtown about 10 p.m.
and then you went to visit at your sister's house.
Now you tell us you went to your sister's house first and then you went to the bar downtown. Now, which is it?
Well, that's getting a little high-handed, isn't it? Why do I have to account for my time to you?
If it wasn't important, we wouldn't be asking you. I think you know that.
Well, I don't know anything of the kind. You're trying to take advantage of me. That's the only impression I can get.
I think I've answered enough of your questions. I'm going back to the hotel.
Just a minute, Barton. There's one more thing.
Last time you were arrested for a traffic violation, you want to tell us what the charge was?
What?
I think you heard me.
Well, that was a year ago. I was driving a little too fast going out Beverly Boulevard. What's that got to do with it?
Our record bureau says the charge was for drunk driving. Your license was revoked, isn't that right?
Well, so what? I haven't been driving. I haven't been near a car.
How about last Tuesday night?
Huh?
Last Tuesday night. Did you do any driving then?
No, no. Of course not.
Are you sure about that?
If you're not trapping me, I answer all your questions. I'm getting out of here.
No, you better stay right where you are, mister. Stay put.
Ben, you want to check next door and see if Miller's come in with you.
Yeah, okay.
You can't make me stay here. It's illegal. You got nothing to hold me on.
All right, then there's nothing to worry about. This won't take very long.
We got a man by the name of Miller coming in. He says he thinks he knows you.
Miller? I don't know any Millers.
Nice going, Paul. Why you been?
I said, why you been? What'd you do with the truck?
I'm getting out of here.
Grab him, Ben. Grab him.
Got him. Got him.
You.
All right. All right.
Now let me go.
Settle down, settle down.
Come on, mister. Settle down.
I didn't do it. I didn't do a thing. I...
Well, look, you can't prove it. You can't prove I did.
They're gonna prove it, Paul. I'm gonna help them prove it.
You sure been a real good friend.
Look, give me a break, Danny. I didn't mean it. Honestly, I didn't mean it.
I loan you the truck. You get boozed up. You run down a little kid and a grandmother.
Then you take off and leave me holding the sack, like I did it.
Well, I didn't mean it, Danny. It was an accident. I wasn't boozed up.
Yeah, you're a real good friend.
I hope you get it in the neck. I hope you get it with both bowels.
Look, Sergeant, that's not true. I wasn't boozed up. I only had two drinks.
Now believe me, that's all I had.
I couldn't have been drunk. It doesn't affect me that way. Two drinks never hurt me.
A couple of drinks never hurt anybody.
They killed a little boy and his grandmother.
The story you have just heard was true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On February 28th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 87,
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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Paul Barton was filed on for violation of the state vehicle code section 480, a hit and run felony, and also for manslaughter two counts.
one nor more than five years.
You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files.
Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker,
Los Angeles Police Department.
Fatima cigarettes, best of all king-size cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet,
transcribed from Los Angeles.
Stay tuned for Counter Spy next on NBC.