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You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned to homicide detail.
A woman is found dying in a vacant lot, her identity unknown.
Your job, investigate.
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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 Thursday, October 16th.
It was cloudy in Los Angeles.
We were working the night watch out of homicide detail.
My partner's Frank Smith.
The boss is Captain Lorman.
My name's Friday.
It was 9.48 p.m. when I got to Georgia Street Receiving Hospital, Dr. Hall's office.
Joe, how are you?
Hi, Doc.
How about that case you got in from Seventh and Union?
How's she doing?
She died about five minutes ago.
Well, fill me in.
What do you got on it?
You talked to the radio car officers, ones that handle the call?
Frank's talking to them now out in the lobby.
I thought I'd check in with you while he was handling that in.
Not an awful lot to tell you, Joe.
Ambulance G2 brought her in from the location.
She was alive when they brought her in.
Did everything I could for her.
Didn't help much.
Too far gone.
What's it look like?
Chloroform poisoning, pretty obvious.
Probably self-administered.
Looks like that anyway.
She didn't last long.
It's a little unusual, huh, chloroform?
Yeah.
Under the circumstances, it sure is.
Anything else?
How do you mean?
Well, any probable causes, any marks on her?
No, a little scratch on her wrist.
That's about all.
Well, you got her now.
Can we look at her?
Yeah.
Bag number three.
Come on.
Ed Barrett called us, asked us for help.
It's a rough night, huh?
Yeah.
Traffic went crazy tonight.
A dozen cases in the last two hours.
A couple of homicides, too.
Busy night.
You got the weekend coming up, huh?
Yeah, not looking forward to it.
Here we go.
Over here.
Chloroform sure hangs on, doesn't it?
It's so strong.
Hmm.
Notice the burns around her mouth.
I know it was discoloration.
Well, who is she?
Any idea?
We got her down as Jane Doe.
You're gonna have to take it from there.
I understand the radio car officers couldn't identify her.
Apparently pretty well off, huh?
Nice clothes.
Seems to be well kept.
I'd say so.
Expensive jewelry there.
Rings, wristwatch.
A little strange for a probable suicide, isn't it?
Looks like she took good care of herself.
Hair all done up, fingernails.
About how old would you say?
Not more than 35, just about that.
Here's the chart, honey.
Time arrival, 9.38 p.m. from Southwest corner, 7th and Union vacant lot.
For call, possible drunk woman down, Jane Doe, number 4.
Female, Caucasian, approximate age 35.
Weight 128 and 1 quarter.
Height 5 foot 4, brown hair, hazel eyes.
Listed as Nordic descent, probable suicide.
That's it.
Okay, Doc, thanks.
I better look up Frank, see what he's got, huh?
Okay.
Haven't notified the coroner yet.
You fellas wanna take care of that?
Yeah, sure, we'll call her.
About all we can do unless we find some relatives to notify, huh?
Joe?
Yeah, Frank.
Oh, hi, Doc.
How are you?
Yeah, four pounds in two weeks, not too bad for me, anyway.
What'd you get, Joe?
Chloroform poisoning, probable suicide.
Find out who she is?
I gotta get back to my office.
If there's anything I can help you with, come on back.
You're right, Doc, thanks very much.
Okay.
How about it, any identification?
No, I talked to the fellas that took the call, Unit 182, it was a routine call.
390W down, they couldn't find out who put the call in.
Said they found her in a vacant lot lying over against the side of the building.
Yeah.
They said she looked like she'd been drinking, then they got away with the chloroform.
Now they found this empty container by her side.
Here.
Ties in, though.
They were careful handling it.
Anything else?
Well, while they're waiting for the ambulance, they talked to some of the people in the neighborhood.
They couldn't tell them anything about the woman.
Building they found her next to is a vacant store.
No identification on her at all?
No, nothing.
No purse or wallet.
I checked missing persons.
No one of her description reported.
Fellas who handled the call said they went over her clothing.
No marks of identification.
Better notify Leighton Prince, huh?
Maybe they can identify her.
Already called him, Joe.
Looks like probable suicide.
Sure, a new twist, though.
Chloroform rope.
He doesn't figure it out.
What do you think?
I don't know.
No evidence committed on the body.
No indication of robbery.
She had a wristwatch on.
Rings, too.
Wouldn't figure anyway.
Chloroform angle.
No other physical evidence out there, huh?
What do you mean besides the chloroform container?
Nothing else besides the handkerchief.
Hmm?
Yeah, a plain white handkerchief.
Chloroform on it.
They found it next to the body.
It's the only thing that doesn't fit 100%.
What do you mean?
It's a man's handkerchief.
10.25 p.m.
Frank and I took the dead woman's clothing, the handkerchief, and the almost empty container
of chloroform and drove back downtown to the office.
We dropped off the clothing and the handkerchief at the crime lab to be processed for possible
identifying marks.
The chloroform container was taken to Leighton Fingerprints for examination.
The following morning, the body of the unidentified woman was taken to the county morgue for posting.
As soon as the dead woman's prints were made available to us, they were checked through
our record bureau and also through the record bureau at the sheriff's office.
In addition, they also made a run on her description.
They were unable to identify her.
We checked with the crime lab, but they couldn't help us either.
A detailed examination of the dead woman's clothing failed to yield any leads as to her
identity.
Leighton Prince didn't have any better luck with the chloroform container.
The only prints they found on it were those of the dead woman.
Meantime, the morning papers had picked up the story and given it front page billing,
11.16 a.m.
How's that again, Doc?
Uh-huh.
Yeah, I see.
Mm-hmm.
A little unusual, wouldn't you say?
Yeah.
Okay, we'll pick it up after lunch.
Right, bye.
Anything?
Yeah, Doc Cephalo at the morgue just finished forcing the body.
What'd he say?
The chloroform killed her.
They even found traces of it in his stomach.
Huh?
That's right.
That's a weird one, isn't it?
Doesn't leave much doubt.
Suicide.
No indication it was anything else, is it?
I got it.
Homicide, Friday talking.
Yes, sir.
Yeah?
Mitchell?
Mm-hmm.
That's all.
Yeah, sure, I'd be glad to.
Yeah, we'll be here.
You want to give us your address?
Yeah.
Okay.
Here we go.
How was it, Joe?
Somebody the name of James Mitchell, he's on his way down to see us, wants to talk to
us about the dead woman.
Yeah.
He says he killed her.
11.50 a.m.
While Frank and I waited around for Mitchell to show up, we checked his name through R&I,
but we were unable to find anything on him.
A few minutes before 1 p.m., a short blonde-haired man in a blue-sir'd suit entered the squadroom
and asked for us.
He introduced himself as James Mitchell.
Frank and I took him to the interrogation room where we started to question him.
He told us he was a steelworker by trade, currently unemployed.
He said he was originally from Alabama, that he'd been in California for approximately
two years.
After that, he lapsed into silence.
We tried to question him about the dead woman, but we made little headway.
The only admission we could get from him was that he killed the woman.
Outside of that, he refused to say anything.
Now, how about it, Mitchell?
What's the trouble?
You called us, volunteered a confession, you said you killed the woman, you wanted to tell
us a story.
Now, why don't you answer our questions?
Jim, how about it?
Aren't you feeling well?
You want us to call a doctor?
Jim?
You're not giving us much of an out, mister.
You volunteered to make yourself a suspect in this thing.
You say you killed the woman.
Now, why don't you answer the questions?
We can't keep this up forever.
You ought to know that.
You haven't answered the question in almost an hour now.
Look, if you're not gonna talk, Jim, there's only one thing we can do.
We're gonna have to book you.
Mitchell, is that what you want?
Go ahead and make a call.
I'll be right there.
Go ahead and book me.
I killed her.
Go on, book me.
Well, why can't you tell us the story?
Now, you admit you killed the woman.
Why won't you tell us about it?
Why should I?
I killed her.
That's all you have to know.
You said on the phone you'd tell us the whole story, didn't you?
Now, what made you change your mind?
You got the story.
I killed her.
I'll hold ass to it.
You know better than that, Mitchell.
You know the woman very well?
No, not very well.
What was her name?
Mary.
Mary what?
Mary, that's all.
I met her in a bar.
I didn't know her well.
I killed her.
That's all you got to know.
I had to.
Why'd you have to, Jim?
I don't have to tell you.
I had a reason.
Good reason.
Robbery?
I don't have to say.
You had a fight with her?
Lovers quarrel?
Maybe.
What's the difference?
Well, this bar where you met Mary, that in downtown L.A., was it?
Yes, downtown.
She had it coming in blue.
I had to tell you.
Yes, downtown, she had it coming.
I'm glad I did it.
Not worth much, huh?
She was when I met her.
Well, what happened?
Did she go off the deep end?
I guess so.
What's the difference?
She's dead.
Well, why'd you turn yourself in, Jim?
Figured you couldn't beat it?
Maybe.
How do you mean?
I could have stayed out of your way if I wanted to.
For a while, anyway.
I didn't want to.
Why not, Jim?
Good reason.
I'm glad I killed her.
She had it coming.
Now, go ahead and do what you want.
I know what the rap is.
I'll pay for it.
Well, if you're willing to take the rap, Jim, why not tell us the whole story, huh?
You got the story.
I killed her.
That's all you need.
Don't you want to brief us in on the details?
How it happened, how it came about.
Might be extenuating circumstances, you can't tell.
Well, how do you mean?
Different things that might throw a new slant on the case.
Court's not going to hand down a decision until they got the whole story.
You mean about Mary?
I'll never tell them about her.
Lies the things she did to me.
Never tell anybody about it.
Must have been pretty bad, huh?
I mean, the way you took it out on her.
She was rotten all the way through.
I had to kill her.
What happened with the chloroform, Jim?
Didn't it work fast enough for you?
Chloroform?
Yeah, uh-huh.
Didn't it react on her fast enough for you?
No, no it didn't.
I hated her.
Yeah, I guess you did.
You must have had quite a scrap with her.
Struggled quite a bit, didn't you?
Yeah, she fought me all the way.
I got her, though.
I hated her.
Out of my mind, I hated her so much.
We've been trying to figure it out, Jim.
What'd you hit her with?
I mean, around the head and on the neck.
What'd you use?
The metal?
Yeah, angle iron.
Uh-huh.
Kind of lost my head.
I kept beating her.
She tried to scream, but I had my hand over her mouth.
Then she fell down.
She didn't make a sound after that.
I see.
Well, how come you took her jewelry?
I mean, if you just wanted to kill her, how is it you took all her valuables, too?
Jim, how about it, Mitchell?
Well, I don't know.
I spur of the moment, I guess.
I took them, but I didn't keep my thumb away.
I don't remember where.
I'm glad it's over.
All right, Jim.
Now, what's this all about?
You didn't kill that woman.
You know that as well as we do.
Well, what are you talking about?
Of course I killed her.
She's dead, ain't she?
How many times do I have to admit it?
The woman had one mark in her body, Mitchell.
A small scratch on the wrist.
Huh?
Not a single wound on the head, none on the neck, either.
Well, I killed her.
That's all you gotta know, not saying anything now.
All the woman's valuables weren't taken, either, Jim.
She was found with a couple of rings on her hands,
an expensive watch, a bracelet, too.
Now, come on, Jim.
What's the angle here?
You can't prove I didn't do it.
You can't prove that.
I think we can.
Now, why can't you just take my word for it?
It's the queerest setup I ever saw.
I'm willing to admit I killed her, and you won't believe me.
What kind of cop saw you, anyway?
Where'd you spend last night, Jim? Where were you?
I don't know. I don't remember.
You remember. Now, how about it?
It's the queerest setup I ever saw.
Whole town. You wouldn't believe it.
Yeah?
Look, I come here from Alabama.
I told you that. I've been here for 22 months.
A long time. It's almost two years.
Mm-hmm.
Queerest town I ever saw.
Thousands of people all over, millions of them.
People all around you, all over the place, everywhere you go.
I didn't know any of them. Not a one.
They didn't know me. 22 months.
Couldn't get to know nobody. I still don't.
They don't know me, either.
Well, tried to get acquainted.
Just seemed to never could.
Nobody knew me. Nobody cared.
They didn't even know who I was.
What kind of town is that? 22 months right here.
They don't even know who I am.
Nobody knows. Living alone, you just get sick of it.
Get sick and tired of it.
That's what brought all this on, huh?
Well, at least they'll notice me. They'll know I'm here.
I killed a woman. They'll know who I am now.
Never spent any time in a hospital, Mitchell. Institution.
Now, what'd you have to ask that for?
Just because they want to know people, want to notice me?
That doesn't make me crazy.
Can't be alone all the time. You got to have somebody notice you.
Were you ever in an institution, Jim?
Just once. Only a couple of months.
It wasn't anything. Look, can't you just forget what I said?
I mean, I told you I killed a woman.
The papers are gonna be out pretty soon.
Pictures and things. Probably a big write-up.
Well, can't we let it go with that? I killed her.
Just forget the rest.
No, I'm afraid not.
Why not?
We'll just make out it's that way.
People get to know me anyway. At least they'll know I'm around.
I won't be alone.
There's no use worrying, Jim.
Huh?
You won't be alone anymore.
1.38 p.m.
We continued to question the self-accused suspect, James Mitchell,
and he finally told us that he'd been confined for a period of 18 months
in a state mental hospital in Alabama.
That had been more than three years before.
The questioning also left no doubt in our mind that Mitchell had nothing at all
to do with the death of the unidentified woman.
A sister of Mitchell's living in Alabama was contacted
and she agreed to come out west as soon as possible to look after her brother.
In the meantime, he was delivered to the care of psychiatrists at the county hospital.
The incident of a man confessing guilt of a crime of which he's wholly innocent
certainly wasn't anything new.
Like police officers all over the country, all over the world,
we've come to accept it as almost a routine part of a criminal investigation.
Most of the time, the would-be criminals suffering with mental trouble.
Sometimes it's a thirst for notoriety.
In any event, they all have to be checked, every one of them.
It means time, trouble, and money.
Hours of cautious interrogation.
More hours of checking stories that have basis only in the imagination of a sick mind.
They slow the investigation. They waste hundreds of man hours.
But like anonymous leads or would-be witnesses, they can't be ignored.
It's part of the job.
Saturday, October 18th, the newspapers continue to cooperate
by giving his front page space to the story of the unidentified woman.
Joe?
Yeah, how'd you do?
Nothing.
Identification wasn't even close.
How about Brian and Lopez? What'd they do on that call of theirs?
Well, they're over at the morgue now with a boy.
16-year-old. Kid was pretty wrought up when he came in.
We sure had a parade of them.
All last night, all this morning.
Well, it doesn't hurt our chances any the more the better.
I suppose so.
Not gonna make much headway if we can't identify her.
Any answers on the roll points we got out on her?
Yeah, four of them. They all been checked. Nothing.
Chewing gum, Joe? New kind, tangerine flavor.
No, no thanks.
How about that check at the hospital's around town?
Anything show up there yet?
No, not so far.
The scar on the woman's leg was from an operation, all right.
Doc figures it might not have been done in the hospital, though.
It was a minor operation. Could have been done in a doctor's office, maybe.
I'd stop it, sure.
Tough enough checking hospitals for a record of the operation.
Next to impossible, we'll check every doctor in town for it.
Well, even then, we could miss.
Don't know where the woman's from.
She could have had the operation done anywhere.
I'll get it.
Homicide, Friday talking.
Yeah, Tom.
Well, I know.
You did?
That's so.
Yeah, okay. Fine. You bet. Thanks, Tom.
It was Brian.
He and Lopey are driving that boy over to George's Street, the 16-year-old.
What happened?
Well, they took the boy to the morgue. They showed him the body.
Asked him if he recognized it.
What'd he say?
It's his mother.
2.05 p.m.
Frank and I left the office and drove over to George's Street Receiving Hospital.
The 16-year-old boy who had identified the dead woman as his mother was being treated for shock and hysteria.
The youngster told Brian and Lopez that his name was Arnold Hopkins
and that he'd been living with his mother at a Norwood Street address.
After he was given a sedative and recovered himself a bit,
the boy was driven to the home of his aunt and uncle out near Barnesdale Park.
That night, Frank and I called on the boy and found him sufficiently recovered to answer a few questions.
He confirmed his identity of the body he'd viewed that afternoon as that of his mother, Mrs. Jeanette Hopkins.
He said he was an only child and that his father was dead.
He told us his mother had been working for the past six years as coast representative for an Eastern cosmetics firm.
We asked him what had happened the night his mother disappeared.
The phone just rang about, well, when we were finishing dinner.
About 8 o'clock. Maybe quarter after.
Mm-hmm.
Well, when Ma hung up, she said something important come up. She had to go out to see somebody.
She said she had to see him right away. She got her coat and left.
It was the last time I saw her.
Well, who was she going to see, Arnold? Did she tell you?
No, she didn't. I heard her talking on the phone, though.
I heard her say, Leo. She said it a couple of times. Leo.
Where was she going to meet this person, Arnold? Did you have an overhear of that?
No, I didn't. I think she said, okay, I'll meet you there, Leo, and she hung up.
Then she got her coat, kissed me goodbye, and she went out.
Did she leave on foot or was she driving, you remember?
Oh, on foot. My mother didn't drive. It was Leo's cell.
Did your mother ever talk about him?
I heard her talking to him on the phone a couple of times. That's about all.
Well, do you know where he lives? What he looks like? Can you tell us anything about him at all?
No, sir, nothing. I wouldn't know him if I saw him.
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Saturday, October 18th, 8.30 p.m., Frank Smith and I continued interviewing the dead woman's son, 16-year-old Arnold Hopkins.
The big lead pointed in the direction of the man known as Leo,
who telephoned Mrs. Hopkins Thursday night, little more than an hour before she died,
and made an appointment to meet her.
It was a good lead, but it didn't go too far.
All the boy could tell us was that the man's name was Leo.
He'd heard his mother address a man by that name on the telephone several times, but that was the extent of it.
He didn't know Leo's last name, he didn't know where he lived.
He had no idea where his mother was to meet the man the night she died.
We talked to the boys' aunt and uncle, the dead woman's brother and sister-in-law, but they couldn't help us either.
Frank Smith and I obtained a list of all of Mrs. Hopkins' friends and business associates known to the son and the aunt and the uncle.
We spent the rest of the weekend checking with them.
Most of them gave us pretty much the same story.
Mrs. Hopkins was well-liked and well-respected, both in her business and private life.
She was devoted to her teenage son.
She didn't drink and socially her behavior was beyond question.
She attended church regularly.
She was active in several women's clubs engaged in social and religious work.
None of the people we talked to could think of any reason that she would want to end her own life.
All of them denied any knowledge of the man known as Leo.
Monday afternoon, October 20th, Frank and I had another meeting with the victim's son, Arnold Hopkins.
We had him check over the personal effects found on the body.
Yes, sir, that's hers.
The other ring, too.
How about this bracelet, son?
Yes, sir. She always wore that.
My dad gave it to her, I think, when he was alive, I mean.
She always wore it.
Now the wristwatch, two rings, the bracelet, and this lapel pin here.
This about it, son?
Yes, sir, I guess so.
You have her necklace, too.
How's that?
My mother's necklace.
She was wearing it that night.
She had it on when she left the house. Didn't you find it?
What kind of necklace is it, son? What's it look like?
It's made like the bracelet is. That one there.
See, the two of them go together to set.
Your mother wore expensive jewelry like that every day, did she?
No, sir. She wore the bracelet quite a bit, not the necklace, though.
She only wore that when she was dressed up.
I thought about it yesterday. I meant to tell you about it.
What's that, son?
Well, right after she got the phone call that night when she told me she had to go out.
Yeah.
Well, she went back and got her coat, and then she came in the living room and kissed me goodbye.
She had the necklace in her hand.
You're sure she took it with her?
Oh, yes, sir. I'm positive.
After she kissed me goodbye, she went over to the mirror and I saw her put the necklace on.
She was wearing it when she left.
I didn't think much about it till later on.
Most of the time, she only wears it when she dresses up.
She wasn't very dressed up that night.
Joe.
Yeah.
Can you describe the necklace for her son, exactly what it looks like?
Yes, sir. I think I can.
When you saw your mother with the necklace on, did you think to ask her about it?
Yeah, I did.
She said she was wearing it because she wanted to look pretty.
She was going to meet a good friend.
And she didn't say where?
No, sir. I guess she was wrong, huh?
About her necklace, I mean.
No, son. About her friend.
Monday, 3.18 p.m.
We got a description of the necklace from the Hopkins boy,
confirmed it with his aunt and uncle, and then we double-checked it at the jeweler's,
where it had been purchased.
After that, we contacted the pawn shop detail and burglary division.
The necklace and its description was put on the stolen property list,
and copies were sent to secondhand jewelry stores and pawn shops throughout the area.
We also got out a broadcast and an APB on it.
4.15 the following afternoon, we got a reply from the San Diego police department.
A pawn shop owner down there had reported taking in the necklace the Friday before,
which matched the description of the one we were looking for.
The man who pawned the necklace listed his name in the pawn shop's buy book as Raymond Butler.
San Diego officers had checked out the home address that he'd given.
It was a vacant lot.
The necklace was sent back to Los Angeles, where it was identified as Mrs. Hopkins.
The description of the man who'd pawned the necklace was forwarded from San Diego,
together with a photostatic copy of the suspect's signature,
and we got out an all-points bulletin on him.
Two days passed. Nothing.
Along with Brian and Lopez, we continued checking all public places in the general area
where the body of Mrs. Hopkins had been found.
You got anything, Frank?
Talked to a man by the name of Wagner, Joey.
He used to do a lot of traveling, business trips, most of them to San Diego.
Wagner says he heard she had a boyfriend down there, tall, dark-haired fellow.
That's all. No name.
I get it.
Homicide Friday.
What? Oh, yeah, Lope.
Mm-hmm. Where?
Check side, does it? Yeah, that's good. Fine. Okay, thanks, Lope. Yeah, right away.
Anything, Joe?
Lopez, he and Brian just checked a bar out in the neighborhood where the body was found.
Mm-hmm.
They talked to the bartender in the place, showed him the description of the man who pawned the necklace.
Bartender says he knows the man.
Are you sure?
Pretty sure.
He told Brian and Lope that the man's either a boxer or a wrestler, something like that, anyway.
You know the man's name, where he lives?
Says his name's Taylor. No home address.
You know his first name?
Yeah. Leo.
1.25 p.m.
After interviewing four other people who were in the bar the night of Mrs. Hopkins' death,
Lopez and Brian checked back in at the office.
They told us that at least one of the four persons they talked to, in addition to the bartender,
was sure that the description of the suspect who pawned the necklace fitted a man known as Leo Taylor,
who was in the bar the previous Thursday night.
He was seen in the place between 8.30 and 9.00 p.m.
and he was seen with a woman answering Mrs. Hopkins' general description.
The bartender had no idea where the man lived, but he seemed fairly certain of the man's name, Leo Taylor,
and his occupation, either wrestling or boxing.
5.05 p.m.
We made a run on Taylor's name and description through R&I and we got a make.
We checked his handwriting and that matched out also.
He had one previous arrest for assault and disorderly conduct.
His residence was a West 11th Street address.
We checked it out, but he'd moved six months before.
The landlady had no forwarding address on him, but she told us one of the places he used to frequent was a gym
on South Olive down near Olympic.
We ran it down.
How about a try?
Alright, come on.
I'm getting tired of punching the back.
I checked with a fellow in the office over there, Joe, says the man we once taken a shower back there, locker room.
Alright.
In here?
Yeah.
Go ahead.
Yeah.
Excuse me, your name Leo Taylor?
How's that?
I said are you Leo Taylor?
Yeah, that's right. What is it?
Police officers would like to talk to you.
Oh, you're taking a shower right now? You want to wait a while?
Well, keep Taylor. We want to talk to you now.
Alright.
Alright, what's the rush? What's it all about?
We want to talk to you downtown.
What do you want me downtown for?
I'm a 15 check. I'd like to ask you a few questions.
About what?
Jeanette Hopkins.
That's so. What about her?
When's the last time you saw the woman, Taylor?
I don't know. A couple of months ago. At least that. Why?
Well, you can talk about it downtown.
Well, let's talk now. It'll take me a little time to get dressed. What's the pitch?
You know as well as we do.
You want to throw me that shirt, Mac?
Thanks.
What do you mean I know as well as you do? Know what?
No rush, Leo. We can talk downtown.
I read about it in the papers. It's a terrible thing.
I'm going to look her up one of these days. It's too bad.
You live in Los Angeles, Taylor?
Yeah, why?
Ever get down to San Diego?
Once in a while. Not too often.
You don't think I had anything to do with it, do you?
How do you mean, Leo? With what?
I mean, Jeanette, she's dead. You don't think I had a hand in it, do you?
Let me tell you, I'm going to level with you, Leo.
We've been on this thing a week.
We've got you placed in San Diego. We've got you placed here.
You say you haven't seen Mrs. Hopkins for two months. We can do a lot better than that.
You were with her in San Diego two weeks ago.
You were drinking with her in a bar out there last Thursday night.
You were with her 20 minutes before she died. We got all we need, Leo.
Got my coat there, engraving?
Check the pockets, man.
Yeah.
Got to take a lot of proof. I guess you know that.
Got to take a lot of it.
We got it.
Better have. Let's see. Keys, wallet, comb.
Yeah.
Okay, let's go.
No, just a minute, Leo.
Yeah?
Pawn ticket here. You forgot it.
The story you have just heard was true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On January 28th, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 89,
City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
In a moment, the results of that trial.
Now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you, George Fenomen.
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When confronted with the evidence and testimony against him,
Leo Francis Taylor broke down and confessed to the murder of Mrs. Jeanette Hopkins.
She'd been paying blackmail to Taylor in order to keep their affair secret,
but a month before her death, she refused to pay him anymore.
Taylor threatened her again, and she agreed to give him the necklace as a final payoff.
At their meeting, Taylor demanded cash.
His victim threatened him with arrest, and he administered the chloroform.
Taylor was tried and found guilty of first-degree murder
and was sentenced to a life term in the state penitentiary.
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.
Technical advisors Captain Jack Donahoe, Sergeant Marty Winn, Sergeant Vance Brasher.
Heard tonight were Herb Ellis, Mick Perrin, Gil Stratton, Jack Crusian.
Script by Jim Moser. Music by Walter Schuman. Hal Gibney speaking.
King-size Fatima, made by the same people who make popular Chesterfield cigarettes,
has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles.
Each Thursday night, it's Counterspy on NBC.