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 homicide detail. A 40-year-old mother is found
murdered in the bedroom of her home. The body bears the marks of a savage attack with a knife.
The killer showed no mercy. Your job? Get him.
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which no other king-sized cigarette has. Fatima, best of all king-sized cigarettes.
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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, February 18th. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out a
homicide detail. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Thad Brown, Chief of Detectives. My name's
Friday. It was 1043 a.m. when we got to Woodview High School, the Vice Principal's office.
Good morning, ma'am.
Yes.
I'd like to see the Vice Principal, please. I believe her name is Harmon. Miss Harmon?
I'm Miss Harmon. What is it you wanted?
Police officers, ma'am. Is that identification?
Oh, yes.
This is my partner, Sergeant Romero. My name's Friday.
I see. How do you do?
Well, we'd like to talk to one of your girls' students, Miss Harmon. Roberta Dixon. Understand
she's registered here?
Roberta Dixon. Oh, yes. I believe I know her.
Would you mind calling her out of class, please? Would you like to talk to her?
Well, we generally don't like to do that, Officer, not unless it's absolutely necessary.
It's pretty important, ma'am. We've got a message for the girl.
I see. Couldn't it wait until after school hours?
I'm afraid not, Miss Harmon. It's about the girl's mother. It's pretty serious.
Oh, has she been taken ill, is that it?
No, ma'am. She's been murdered.
Sixteen-year-old Roberta Dixon, the daughter of the murdered woman, was called out of her
classroom and brought downstairs to the office of Miss Harmon, the girl's vice principal.
She was a thin, dark-haired girl in a sweater and skirt. With the help of Miss Harmon, whom
the girl seemed to know fairly well, Ben and I broke the news of her mother's death as
gently as we could. At first, the 16-year-old girl seemed to take the shock with some composure,
but suddenly she broke down weeping and became hysterical. When she recovered sufficiently,
the girl agreed to come downtown with us to answer a few routine questions. Miss Harmon
agreed to accompany her. 11.05 a.m. We checked back in at the office. Ben and I completed
the 311 dead body report while Miss Harmon and the daughter of the murdered woman waited
in the adjoining room.
What was that time discovered, Joe? You got a note on it there?
Yeah, let me look. 8.55 a.m.
Oh, thanks. Hi, Joe. How are you?
Oh, hi, George. How you doing?
I can't complain. Got some checking out. I wonder if you'd help me.
Well, I'll give it a try. Ben, you know George DeCovan, don't you, reporter from the Daily
News?
Yeah, I'm around. How are you?
So I understand you two are working on that knife murder out on Pico, the dead woman they
found this morning?
Yeah, that's right.
A few things I'd like to check with you before I do the story. The victim's name was Florence
Eleanor Dixon, right?
That's right, George, yeah.
A couple more things. You're stopping me if I got it wrong. The victim was 40 years old,
divorced one child, daughter 16. Body was discovered nine o'clock this morning by a
next door neighbor. You see the neighbor's name is Esther Fenwick.
No, I think the name's Fenmore, George.
Oh, thanks. F-E-N-M-O-R-E. You understand you haven't got much to go on. No murder weapons,
no other leads.
No, not much of anything so far. We just started on this thing.
How about the husband of the dead woman? You get anything there?
Well, he divorced Mrs. Dixon two years ago. There's no line on him yet. We're still checking
him out. We might have some word later on in the day for him.
Any other possible suspects in mind, or do you want to say?
No, I don't think so. It's still wide open.
How about him on it? Has that been established yet?
Could have been one of a dozen things. We're going to have to do some digging before we
can say definitely.
It doesn't look like it was a robbery motive. Well, that's about all we can tell you for
sure, George.
See, I was over at the morgue when they brought the body, and it's the worst I've seen in
a long time. Brutal.
Uh-huh. It's pretty bad. I suppose there's nothing from the crime lab yet.
No. I think they just got back from the house a few minutes ago. If you want to drop by
later on this afternoon, we might have something new for you.
Okay, thanks.
Oh, say, I saw you bringing the girl in a few minutes ago. Victim's daughter. I'd like
to get a couple of pictures of her.
Well, how about making a little later on, George?
I think she'd still upset. Pretty much, it'd be a shock for you.
Okay, I'll be waiting out in the hall with a photographer.
Okay.
Give me a call, just a couple of shots. It won't take a minute.
You betcha, George. We'll call you.
Okay.
You about finished with that report, Ben?
Yeah, all done. I guess we better talk to the girl, huh?
Yeah. All right.
The morgue say when they're going to post the body?
Sometime today. We ought to have the results first thing tomorrow morning.
Miss Harmon?
I think she's a lot better now, Sergeant.
Roberta, the officers would like to talk to you a few minutes if you feel up to it.
All right. Who killed my mother? Have you found out?
Not yet, Roberta. We think you might be able to help her, so...
It's so hard to believe. I just saw her this morning. She was all right then.
Well, you try to take it easy, Roberta. We'll make it as brief as possible.
Are you and your mother the only people living at your house, no one else?
No, me and my mother, that's all. My father used to live with us. He doesn't anymore.
How long has it been since your father left?
I'm not sure. About five years, I think. He and mama didn't get along. They got divorced.
Do you see your father at all anymore? I mean, does he ever come to your house to visit?
He did once. It was about a year ago, I think. It wasn't much good.
My mother argued all the time he was there, and he left. He hasn't been back since.
Has he been in contact at all with your mother? Do you know? Does he write her letters, call her on the phone?
No. The last time was when he came to our house. I haven't heard anything about him since.
I don't even know where he is. I don't care, I guess. I hardly even knew him.
I'd like to have you think about this carefully now, Roberta.
Did your mother have any close friends who used to come to the house quite a bit?
Yes. Two or three women friends of hers at work.
Any men friends?
No. Mama didn't have any men friends. She didn't like men. She said they were all no good. She used to tell me that all the time.
Do you have any relatives we can contact?
I don't know about my father's side. My mother has a brother and sister in West Virginia. Dresses at home.
What am I going to do? Why would anybody kill my mother?
All right. Now you try to take it easy, Roberta. Everything's going to work out all right.
Look, now, do you think you can give us a list of most of the people your mother knew, friends around the neighborhood, the people she knew at her work?
Yes, I think so. Most of them were in her address book. I think I know where it is.
All right. Fine.
Just before you left for school this morning, Roberta, was there anyone in the house besides you and your mother?
No, just the two of us.
Was your mother expecting anyone?
Not that I knew of.
Your mother was all right, was she? There didn't seem to be anything bothering her?
No. She acted all right to me, just like any other morning. We got up at quarter to seven. I got dressed. Mama took a shower. I fixed breakfast. We ate, and then I left for school.
About what time was that, Roberta?
A little before eight, the usual time. I have my first class at nine o'clock. When I left Mama, she was just finishing her breakfast. I said goodbye. It was the last time you saw her. Can we talk after a while, please? Maybe I'll feel better. Can't talk now.
Oh, sure. That's all right. Would you like to rest here?
I don't know why I'm crying. It's stupid. I don't care anyway. No reason to cry.
You'd better get some rest, youngster.
No reason. It doesn't make sense crying about Mama.
How's that?
I'm not sorry. I'm glad she's dead.
Early that afternoon, after she'd rested sufficiently and recovered herself, we had another interview with Roberta Dixon, the teenage daughter of the murdered woman.
Miss Harmon, the vice principal, went back to the school, and a policewoman was called in to be present during the interrogation. Again, she insisted that she wasn't at all sorry that her mother was dead.
She said that privately she didn't have any love for either one of her parents, least of all her mother.
She told the usual story of a broken home, a father who showed little interest in his daughter while providing a good home for her, a strict, overbearing mother who apparently made no effort to understand the girl.
We continued to interview Roberta Dixon, but outside of what she'd already told us, she showed no further knowledge of the murder.
Pending action by the court, we had the girl placed in the custody of the juvenile authorities. 310 p.m. Ben and I drove back to the murder house on South Pico Boulevard where we met police reporter George DeKoven.
Together with Brian and Ortiz, we continued our preliminary investigation. We rechecked the immediate area of the Dixon home and talked again with the neighbors. We failed to come up with anything new.
425 p.m. Along with the reporter George DeKoven, Ben and I went back to the murder house.
Well, I don't know. It doesn't seem to jive that time of morning. It's possible, though.
What's that, Joe?
Prowler. Might have been it. Do you think so?
No, we've already run that down.
Yeah?
We checked communications. There's no recent complaints about anybody prowling the neighborhood. We talked to the neighbors, too. No indication of it. No sign anybody tried to break in here either.
Got me. I can't figure. And Dixon woman sure kept to herself. Lived here 11 years and we can't dig up more than half a dozen neighbors she already knew.
Yeah, business with her daughter, too. It sure stacks up pretty strange. Didn't the crime-web crew find anything this morning, Joe?
No, nothing great. A jacket, a pair of shoes, a few stains on them. Took them in to run a benzidine test. That's about the size of it.
Sure a slow start.
Yeah. I expect a little more from the neighbors.
No, die. You know, it'd be different if a thing happened in the middle of the night, according to the daughter. It must have happened at least after 8.30 this morning.
Now, if the killer got in the house after that, you'd think somebody on the block would have noticed it. Neighbors close by on either side.
How about checking out in the yard and back? I didn't get too good a look around this morning.
Well, there's nothing more to cover in here. Crime-web's been all over.
And how about where this Mrs. Dixon worked, Joe? Anybody tag base there?
Yeah, Tommy Bryan did. Hotel down on South Grand. She worked in the living room. A couple people she knew there. They couldn't tell them anything.
How about some of her other friends?
No, nothing yet. We're still checking.
Go ahead, Joe. Tell me.
Oh, it's a big backyard. Kept it nice, didn't it?
You want to check alongside here, Ben, with the house? I'll give the back of the yard a look.
Yeah, okay. Good size garage, huh? Pretty hard to find them like that anymore.
Pretty good size lot, too. You sure must have worked at keeping it up. There's not a weed on the place, is there?
Yeah. The more you can save for the neighbors.
Have a look, George, down here. Huh?
Flowerbed here. Two little mounds of dirt. You see them?
Oh, yeah.
The ground looks like it's been recently turned, wouldn't you say?
For some reason. I don't know what that's supposed to mean.
Yeah. Small wooden crosses pressed down on each one of the mounds.
Queer one, huh? Looks like a couple of small graves, doesn't it?
You want to reach me that stick over there, George?
Oh, yeah. Here you go.
Thank you.
Have a look here.
Nice. Nothing on my end. How are you doing?
What's this?
Oh, we're not sure ourselves. Wait a minute.
Uh-huh.
What is it?
Wait a minute.
You all right? How many are?
A bird. A little canary.
How about that? Hasn't been buried long.
Look here. At the breast.
What do you think, a knife?
Could be. Sharp instrument of some kind. Just a minute. I'm going to try this other mound here.
Wait a minute, Joe. Yeah. It's another one. Yellow canary. Same thing. Look at the breast.
Neither one's been buried for more than a few days.
Funny one. Did Dixon's raise canaries, you know?
I don't know. I don't think so.
It sure doesn't make any sense to me.
If they didn't want the bird, you'd think they'd give them away. Why go slaughter them like this?
Yeah, well, it works both ways. Deep wounds in the chest. Some kind of sharp weapon.
Yeah.
The Dixon woman.
She died the same way.
4.35 p.m. We took the two canaries, wrapped them in paper, and brought them downtown to Lieutenant Lee Jones at the crime lab to be processed.
He was still running tests on the stained jacket and pair of shoes which had been found in the house among the dead woman's personal effects.
5.15 p.m. We checked for the office, and then we drove over to Juvenile Hall to see Roberta Dixon.
Apparently, she was in a much better frame of mind.
I talked to Miss Harmon this afternoon, our vice principal. She wants me to come and stay with her for a while. Hope she can arrange it. It should be nice.
We were back at your house this afternoon, Roberta. We found something we'd like to ask you about.
What's that?
Do you keep any pets in your house? I mean, either you or your mother?
Well, no. Not usually. Why?
How do you mean, not usually?
Well, we didn't up until a week ago. Mama didn't like animals. She didn't want them around.
Mm-hmm.
Then I got these two canaries. I bought them with my own money. I work after school, you know.
I see.
I bought a cage for them, too. My mother was mad when I brought them home. She didn't like any kind of animals.
She kept preaching at me. She finally made me get rid of them.
How'd you do that, Roberta?
I got a knife, and I killed them.
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Fatima, best of all king-size cigarettes. Definitely the best quality in its class, but the same price as the cigarettes you're now smoking.
Remember, thousands of Americans are switching to Fatima. Insist on Fatima quality. So why wait? Switch to Fatima today.
Look for the sunny yellow pack. Buy Fatima. Best of all king-size cigarettes.
Remember, thousands and thousands of Americans are switching to king-size Fatima. Insisting on Fatima quality.
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February 18th, the Dixon girl was released to the custody of Miss Harmon pending action by the juvenile court at 9 p.m.
Ben and I double-checked with Lieutenant Lee Jones at the crime lab.
We noticed the school jacket and a pair of shoes which had been found in the closet in the home of the murdered woman, Mrs. Florence Dixon.
Apparently, the clothing belonged to the daughter, Roberta. There were several dark stains on each of the articles.
They'd been checked thoroughly. First, a benzidine test to determine if they were blood stains, then a biological precipitant test to classify them further.
There wasn't any doubt in Lee's mind that the stains were recent, but they were made by human blood, the same blood type as that of the murdered woman.
It was a little hard to believe, but the evidence on hand pointed to only one prime suspect, 16-year-old Roberta Dixon.
Early the following morning, we checked back in at the office. Ben went across the street to see if the coroner's autopsy report was ready.
8.05 a.m. I checked by communications. They had a report on the tracer we'd gotten out on the murder victim's husband, a Charles Dixon.
I picked it up and headed back to the office.
Morning, Joe. Oh, hi, George. You got the message I left for you? I'll put it on your desk over in the press room.
Yeah, I got it. Thanks. How's it look this morning? Anything new?
Well, this here, an answer on that tracer we got out on Mrs. Dixon's husband. He's been living up north for the past year, San Francisco.
That so? Still up there? No, not according to this. He died six months ago, heart attack.
What do you figure? Well, there's not much choice.
Joe, oh, hi, George. Hi. Autopsy report. Corner just got it out. What's the word?
It doesn't jive with the story we got that Corner places a time of death close to 7.30 a.m. yesterday.
Cause of death is what we figured, chest wounds, some kind of a sharp weapon. There's something else.
According to the girl, she had breakfast with her mother before she left for school. Corner says Mrs. Dixon hadn't eaten for at least 12 hours before she died.
What was that time of death, Ben? 7.30 a.m., no later. Well, I guess we better move on it, huh?
I am. What's the angle? Well, the daughter, she says she didn't leave the house until 8.30.
Along with the policewoman, Ben and I drove out to the home of the high school vice principal, Miss Harmon, where the suspect, Roberta Dixon, was staying.
There was no one there. We checked at the high school. Miss Harmon told us that she'd brought Roberta to school that morning.
She thought that if the girl attended classes, it had helped keep her mind off her troubles.
Miss Harmon checked the classroom the Dixon girl was supposed to be in, but she wasn't there.
Her teachers were contacted. None of them had seen her that morning.
9.40 a.m., we drove over to the Dixon home. We found Roberta in the back bedroom.
She was sitting calmly at a sewing machine, stitching ruffles on a dress. In one corner of the room, there was an empty bird cage.
I'm pretty busy right now. I've got this sewing to do. What do you want to talk to me about?
We've got a few more questions for you, Roberta. It's about your mother.
She's dead, isn't she? Do we have to talk about it? Yeah, I'm afraid we do.
Why do we? You just told me she was dead. There's no sense in talking about dead people.
Anyway, I've got this sewing to do. I have to get finished. There.
Isn't that pretty? These ruffles go all the way around the bottom of the skirt. Here, like this. Beautiful color, brown. You like it?
You want to tell us what happened, Roberta, yesterday morning?
Yesterday? I already told you, didn't I?
We don't think you were telling the truth. You want to go over it again for us?
I've got this sewing to do. You can see that, can't you? Three more rows of ruffles go on. Right here.
I have to get it finished. It takes time, you know.
I think you better let the sewing go, Roberta.
Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I have to get it finished.
I'm afraid this is a little more important. I think you realize that.
I went over the whole thing for you already. I told you everything.
Wasn't the truth. You know that, Roberta. Why do you say that?
Was it the truth? What do you expect me to say?
That's up to you.
You think I lied, don't you? That's stupid. I haven't got any reason to lie.
Did you kill her, Roberta? What?
Did you kill your mother?
I told you everything already. It's just the way it was.
Mom and I got up and had breakfast and I went to school. That's all.
I don't have any reason to lie.
Oh, excuse me.
Hello? Oh, hi, Fran.
Yeah, I'm working on it now. It's going to be beautiful.
What? Oh, no, that's all right, sure.
Oh, thanks. Yeah, I'm all right.
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Look, can you call me back later?
Yeah, I'll be here. Okay, honey, bye.
I'm sorry, officers. My girlfriend Fran.
Mm-hmm.
She's a good friend of mine. She can vouch for me.
She'll tell you I'm not a liar.
Do you own a pair of brown and white saddle oxfords, Roberta?
No, why?
How about a school jacket, green plaid?
No, I don't like green. Brown's my favorite color.
The green plaid jacket was found in the house here.
It was stuffed back in the hall closet. It had your name stenciled on it.
Oh, yeah. That old thing. I don't even wear it anymore.
Look at that. Won't be pretty when I get it finished.
That jacket of yours, Roberta, they found blood stains on it.
On the shoes, too.
Roberta?
I already told you, the shoes aren't mine.
The jacket is.
Why do you keep calling me a liar? Can't you believe me for once?
Isn't it bad enough the way things are?
Now, the last time we talked to you, you said you left the house at 8.30 yesterday morning. Is that right?
Yes, it was around 8.30.
Well, we got the report on your mother this morning, Roberta.
The coroner says she died at 7.30. No later.
That's stupid. How could he tell anyway?
He can tell.
He's a liar.
Something else, Roberta. You told us you and your mother got up and you had breakfast together.
Yeah, we had breakfast together. Why are you picking on me?
You couldn't have had breakfast together. The time she died, your mother hadn't eaten anything for 12 hours.
I guess you're going to say they can tell that, too.
That's right. You want to tell us what really happened now?
Tell us the truth, Roberta. It's going to work out a lot easier.
These are some of the toys I had when I was little. I saved almost all of them.
My best doll. I had a lot of dolls. I loved them. I guess I still do. I love them more than her.
You mean your mother?
I wasn't fooling. I don't care if she's dead. She didn't mean anything to me. She never did mean anything.
These are more my dolls here. I dressed them all myself, every one of them.
What was the matter, Roberta, between you and your mother, I mean?
I don't know. I guess she just didn't mean anything. Not in life, anybody else's mother.
She didn't mean anything at all. Same as my father.
In the same house, that's all. Nobody cared for anybody else.
Anything but fighting. Fighting or just not saying anything at all. I'm glad she's dead.
You killed her? Is that what you want to say?
Here's a little piano I had. I got one Christmas, I think.
Look, they'll play.
You want to tell us from the beginning?
It took a long time. I thought about it a lot. A week ago, I made up my mind.
It was time to kill her. She was getting worse. I couldn't do anything. I was always wrong.
Couldn't go out, couldn't do this, I couldn't do that.
She started the same way yesterday morning.
I got the knife from the kitchen. I went in and she was sitting on the bed, putting her stockings on.
I don't think she knew what happened. Didn't take long.
Were you having an argument with her? Is that what started?
We argued every morning. I got so tired of it. She had an awful voice.
Finally made up my mind. Planned it all out. I even practiced it.
You know the two canaries I had? Yeah.
I didn't buy them because I wanted them.
They got to be cute though. I felt bad about killing them.
Why did you kill them, Amber? Practice.
Decided to use a knife.
I wasn't sure I knew how to do it though, so I got the canaries.
One day after school I killed them. Gave me more confidence. I knew I could do it after that.
Poor old things. I guess I shouldn't have killed them.
With the knife you killed your mother with, Roberta. You want to show us where it is?
Alright, I'll show you. I don't think you ever could have found it. It's up in the attic.
Special place I hide things.
Say, would you like some coffee or coke or something? No, no thanks.
One more thing. Why'd you leave school this morning? I mean going off without telling anybody.
I wanted to come back here. I felt like it. I wanted to come back to my room.
It's the only place I really like to be. I've lived in this house all my life.
And this has always been my room.
Toys I had. My dolls.
Everything's here. Everything I have.
My books. All my dolls.
I think we better be going, Roberta. We'll have to take you downtown.
Yes, alright.
I'll get my coat. Then I'll show you where the knife is.
Officers, could I ask you one favor? What's that?
It probably sounds silly. It'll help a lot though.
This doll here. Yeah.
Could I take it with me? Just this one.
Make me feel a lot better.
Please, do you think I could? Yeah, sure. Bring it along if you like.
Thank you.
You probably think I don't care for anything but my dolls.
There's one thing though I want to tell you. What's that?
I'm sorry now. I really am.
I shouldn't have done it. I know it was wrong. You knew?
Yes, I'm sorry I killed the canaries.
The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On May 6th the hearing was held in Juvenile Court, Department 38, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
In a moment the results of that hearing.
Now here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you, George Fenomen.
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At the hearing in Juvenile Court, Roberta Evelyn Dixon was found unfit to be handled as a juvenile
and was certified to Superior Court as an adult.
There she was found to be criminally insane by three psychiatrists appointed by the state.
She is now confined to a state mental institution where she is undergoing treatment.
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.
Mark Yarborough is Sergeant Ben Romero. Also heard was Joyce McCluskey.
Script by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schuman. Hal Gibney speaking.
Fatima cigarettes, best of all king size cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet transcribed from Los Angeles.
Another spy fights international intrigue next on NBC.