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Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to forgery detail.
For the past six years, a forger has been working in your city.
The victims describe the suspect as a woman.
Her M.O. is simple, but it continues to work.
Your job, stop her.
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Dragnet, the documentary 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 Friday, September 18th. It was warm in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of forgery detail.
My partner is Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Welsh. My name is Friday.
We were on our way out from the office and it was 10.42 a.m.
when we got to the ninth floor of the Beckworth Department Store, the credit manager's office.
Yes?
Would you like to see Mr. Donaldson, please?
May I see who's calling?
Sergeant Friday, Los Angeles Police Department.
Oh, yes, he's expecting you. Just a moment.
Thank you.
Yes?
The gentlemen from the police department are here, Mr. Donaldson.
Send them in, please.
Yes, sir. You want to go right in? That's the door.
Thank you very much.
Come on in, gentlemen.
Thank you. Mr. Donaldson?
Yes?
I'm Sergeant Friday. This is my partner, Frank Smith.
How do you do?
How you do, sir?
Sit down.
Thank you very much, sir.
Do you want to tell us what this is all about?
Well, it's the little mother again. I've got the receipts here on the desk.
Is Sergeant Ferguson still working on this case?
Yes, sir.
I talked to him the last time he was stuck.
Usual type of things charged?
Yes, children's shoes, dresses, sweaters. Same as always.
I wonder if I could have those slips, Mr. Donaldson.
Sure. Here you are.
Thank you.
All made out the same day.
August 22nd.
Yes. Our experience is that she usually comes in on a Saturday.
It seems that the store is more crowded then,
and the girls don't take any more time to verify their accounts than they have to.
Can I see those, Joe?
Yeah, here you are.
Thanks.
I wonder if we could talk to the sales girl who waited on her.
Sure. I'll have her set up.
Fine.
Yes, sir?
Ms. Firestone, would you please have Mrs. Allen set up?
Yes, sir.
I notice here the only items charged not for children is a woman's slip.
Yes. We've had a couple of them in the past.
Pieces of women's clothing.
I talked to Sergeant Ferguson about it when he was here.
Did you get the bulletin we sent out this month?
Beg pardon?
The bulletin giving the woman's description, samples of her handwriting. Did you get it?
Yes, sir. We did.
You've got to understand, Sergeant.
This is one of the biggest stores in the city. We do a lot of business.
It'll be almost impossible to alert all of the sales girls to watch for the woman.
Yes, sir. We understand that.
But was the description sent to the children's department?
It was. It didn't do any good, though.
If a woman charged large amounts, it might be easier.
But look at the sales slips yourself.
Four dollars shoes, three dollars dresses.
Nothing to make a charge like that stand out.
We make sure that there's an account in the name and then let it go.
Don't you use the charge-of-plate system?
Yes, we do. But if a customer wants to charge an item and hasn't got the plate,
we usually just verify the account and let them sign the sales slip.
How about identification?
Well, normally we do ask for it.
But as I said, these sales are such small amounts
and the woman comes in when the store is crowded.
The girls just call the credit department and let her sign the receipt.
I see.
Excuse me.
Yes, sir.
Yes?
Mrs. Allen's here.
Oh, all right. Just a moment.
Yes, sir.
The woman who waited on us is out in the office.
Do you want to talk to her in here?
Well, we don't want to take up any more of your time.
I'm sure we can see her out there.
All right. If there's anything else you need, I'll be here.
Yes, sir.
Hello, officer.
Yes, sir.
You know, I feel a little funny about this thing.
Why is that, sir?
Well, the thing she's charged.
What's that?
The thing she's taken. They're almost all kids clothes.
Doesn't seem to be interested in anything else.
Total amounts of the articles she's taken don't add up to much.
It's the principle of the thing more than the value.
It just seems that the only thing she's interested in is the children.
It feels a little funny to call the police about a person like that.
Yes, sir, we understand.
We've got a lot of this going on, but the others, they take things for themselves.
Luggages, you know, expensive items.
But she doesn't. Just for the kids.
She doesn't seem to be at all interested in herself.
Well, we are.
Yes, well, I suppose so.
Well, I'll be here if you need anything more.
Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. Thanks very much.
We'll be in touch with you.
You'll bring the sales slips back, won't you?
Yes, sir, as soon as we've had the chance to photograph them.
Well, I hope you can do something about it.
Yes, sir, so do we. Thank you very much.
Anything you need, you let me know.
Yes, sir, thank you.
Just a moment. Mrs. Allen?
Yes.
These are the police officers.
How you doing, ma'am? I'm Sergeant Friday.
This is my partner, Frank Smith.
How are you doing, Miss Allen?
You want to sit down over here, please?
Yes, all right.
I feel just terrible about this.
Ma'am?
All this forgery thing.
Now, you waited on the woman, did you?
Yes, at least in the little girl's department.
Uh-huh. What if you could describe her for us?
Well, she was a little woman.
I'd say a ten.
How's that again, ma'am?
A size ten.
Oh.
Five one, about 105 pounds.
Cute as a button.
Mm-hmm.
Did she have the children with her?
No, no, she didn't.
I thought it was a little funny at the time,
but as I say, we were sitting there
and we were so busy with the school rush that afternoon
that none of us girls had a chance to really think about anything.
Yes, ma'am. What color hair did she have?
Kind of sandy color.
Guess you'd call it a blonde.
Wore it up in a bun.
You know, back here, you know.
Yes, ma'am.
The other girls noticed it.
Long. Looked nice.
Different than all the other short haircuts.
Kind of old-fashioned and homey.
Yes, ma'am. How was she dressed?
Not very well.
Had a little blue hat, dark coat, cloth coat.
Collar came up like this, you know.
Slash pockets.
Nice, but not expensive.
I see, ma'am. Now, would you know her if you saw her again?
Oh, my, yes, sure would.
Well, we'd like you to come over to our office
and look at some pictures, if you would.
All right.
I'll have to talk to the floor manager.
We'll take care of that, Mrs. Allen.
All right.
You think that you might have a picture of her?
We don't know.
I kind of hope not.
Ma'am?
I hope you don't have a picture.
I guess it's a little sinful to even think of it,
but she had a reason for what she did.
I'm sure of it.
Why do you say that, Mrs. Allen?
Officer, I've been selling for a long time.
I met a lot of people in that time.
Nice ones and nasty ones.
And believe me, this is one of the sweetest people
I've ever served.
Mm-hmm.
I understand that you call her the little mother.
Isn't that right?
Well, we don't, ma'am.
That's what the newspapers call her.
Well, it fits her to a T. Right to a T.
The way she bustled around those dresses,
looking, testing, she was just like a mother hen
trying to find something for her brood.
Little doll, cute as a button.
She just got to have a reason for what she's doing.
Sergeant Friday?
Yes, Mr. Donaldson?
I'm glad I caught you.
I think we've got it.
Sir?
The little mother is downstairs now.
For the last six years, the same woman had been operating
in the downtown department stores.
During that period, she'd forged a total of $1,300
worth of merchandise that we knew of.
Because of her M.O., there was no way of telling
how much more had gone undetected.
The operation was a simple one.
She'd enter a store, go to one of the departments.
There, she'd pick up articles of apparel,
mostly for children, and then ask to charge them.
She'd explain that she'd forgotten her charge plate,
and after the account had been verified,
she'd sign the charge slip.
These slips would be put in the mail to the people
who maintained the account, and it wouldn't be
until they noticed a discrepancy that we'd be notified.
Usually, a month would pass between the time
the clothing was taken and we were told of it.
In the six years that the little mother,
as the newspapers had dubbed her, had been operating,
almost every team of detectives in the forgery detail
had worked on the case.
Statements from salesgirls who'd waited on her were taken.
Photo stats of the sales slips were made.
Witnesses were interrogated, and then when the sum total
of actual physical evidence was weighed and sifted,
there was no lead to the identity of the forger.
The police department had gotten out printed bulletins
and copies of composite drawings of the suspect,
and these had been distributed to all department stores
in the area.
But because of the suspect's appearance and the way
she operated, none of the victims became suspicious
in time to notify us.
The department store's protective league was working with us,
but they met with the same dead ends that we'd found.
Meanwhile, the evidence continued to pile up.
The operation continued to work.
When the manager of Beckworth's department store
told us that the suspect was in the store,
Frank and I were able to come up with the first concrete lead
we'd had since we'd been working on the case.
In the company of the manager and the saleswoman,
Mrs. Myra Allen, Frank and I went down to the boys' department
where the suspect was reported to be.
Down this way.
Yes, sir.
The girl said she was over with the boys' suits.
I hope they were able to hold her.
Just a minute.
Yes, sir.
I know I don't have to tell you gentlemen about the store's
liability in a situation like this.
No, sir.
Now, I'm sure it's her, but it could be very embarrassing
and expensive to the store if we made a mistake.
All right, sir. We understand.
Good. Over here.
All right.
Mr. Donaldson. Mr. Donaldson.
Yes, Miss Franklin. Where is she?
It's not my fault. You've got to believe that.
What's the matter, Miss?
Don't tell me you stopped the wrong person.
You caused trouble with an innocent party and she could sue the store.
I'm sorry, Mr. Donaldson.
Where is the woman, Miss?
That's what I'm trying to tell you.
Yes, ma'am.
She wouldn't wait.
A quick search of the immediate vicinity and the store
failed to turn up the suspect.
The department store security staff was notified
and a watch was put on all of the doors.
The credit department was notified and they took action.
We checked with the elevator operators.
We found one that told us she'd seen a woman who answered
the description get in her car.
She explained that the woman seemed to be in a hurry
and had left the elevator as soon as it had reached the main floor.
A further check of the store netted us nothing.
The suspect had escaped.
In the downtown crowds, it would have been almost impossible
to try to find her on the streets.
However, an additional broadcast carrying a complete description
of the clothing she was wearing was gotten out to all cars in the area.
The first good chance we'd had for apprehending her was gone.
We had to go back to the legwork and the waiting.
Three months passed.
During that time, Frank and I cleaned up a series of counterfeit
payroll check cashings.
Another 30 days went by without activity for the little mother.
There were four new sales slips added to the file,
but when the leads resulting from these were checked out,
we were no closer to her than we'd been six years before.
Thursday, December 17th, 1255 p.m.
I checked into the office.
Joe, that you?
Yeah. What do you got?
Oh, I just talked to Skipper.
Yeah?
Got a couple of more beefs about the little mother.
When did they come in?
This morning.
Where are they?
They're in the office.
What do you got?
He's checking the handwriting.
Well, how about the name she used?
Wait a minute.
I got them here in my book.
There they are.
Mrs. Norris Farrow, Mrs. James Slagle, I guess it is,
and Mrs. Ross Neiman.
I called the stores and got the information on these people.
Did you talk to them?
Yeah. Asked all the routine stuff.
None of them can think of any friends who match the description.
How about the things she charged?
Anything there?
No.
Usual items.
Let's see.
One for kids, one child's cotton dress.
There is one thing different.
What's that?
I checked the sizes of the clothes.
Last bunch of sales slips we had, the dresses were for a 10-year-old.
Yeah.
This time she bought them for a 12-year-old.
Kids are getting bigger, Joe.
Well, that's a big help.
All we gotta do is look for a couple of kids that are growing.
Well, I was just trying to help, Joe.
No, I mean, it just doesn't seem to be anywhere to go.
All the time we put in, all the people we've talked to,
all we got for it is a file drawer all to ourselves on the thing.
I get it.
Forgery Friday.
Who?
Yes, ma'am.
Mm-hmm.
Yes, ma'am.
I remember.
Where is she now?
I see.
Yeah, we can be right over.
Yes, ma'am.
Bye.
Well, we got it.
What do you mean?
That was Mrs. Allen.
Remember the sales lady over at Beckworth's?
Oh, yeah, I think I do.
What'd she have to say?
Told me she's having lunch in a restaurant at the corner of Jackson and Hill.
Yeah.
And she's sitting next to her.
One o' two p.m.
We checked out of the office and drove over to the restaurant.
It was located at the rear of a large drug store.
When we came into the place, Mrs. Allen met us at the entrance.
She took us back down the counter and pointed out a small woman sitting on the last stool.
That's her.
You sure, ma'am?
I'm positive.
That's her.
All right, let's go.
Yeah.
You want to wait here, Mrs. Allen?
Certainly.
Something you gentlemen want?
We're police officers, ma'am.
We'd like to talk to you.
Police?
Yes, ma'am.
You want to step over there to talk?
Might be better.
Well, if you want to say anything to me, you can say it right here.
I haven't done anything wrong.
What if we could see your identification?
Why?
Your identification, ma'am.
Could we see it?
All right.
Just a minute.
I've got it in my purse.
Getting terrible.
I don't know what you officers are trying to find out, but I'm going to tell you right
now, if you can't prove you've got a reason for making me do this, you're in trouble.
We're not making you do anything, ma'am.
We don't want to cause you any embarrassment.
Funny way of showing it.
I want to tell you that my husband knows people in this town.
When he hears about this, he...
Oh, here you are.
Here's my driver's license.
Would you take it out of your wallet, please?
Here.
Mrs. Evelyn Nelson?
That's who I am.
Is this your present address?
No, it isn't.
We moved a few months ago, but I haven't had a chance to have it changed.
Is that all you want?
No, Miss Nelson, it isn't.
I wonder if we could talk to you in our office.
Why?
I always thought you had to arrest people before you could order them around.
We're asking you to come over to the city hall with us, if you will, ma'am.
There are a few things we'd like to check out.
What things?
I wonder if I could see what you've got in the bags here.
What are you looking for?
Do you mind if we took a look?
Well, they're just some clothes for my children.
Nothing in there would interest you.
Well, then it wouldn't hurt if we looked, would it?
Go ahead.
You won't find anything.
You want to take a couple of these, Frank?
Yeah, I got it.
Well, what about it?
Did you find anything wrong?
Maybe a gun.
No, ma'am, but I wonder if you could explain this.
What's that?
This charge slip here, signed by Mrs. Ross Neiman.
Well, certainly that was probably in the bag when I bought the things.
I don't know anything about it.
All right, Miss Nelson, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to come with us.
On what charge?
Suspicion of forgery.
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We returned the suspect to the city hall for questioning.
While Frank checked her name through the files, I tried to get her to talk.
For 20 minutes, her attitude was one of surprise and she answered the questions I put to her with indignance.
Finally, she lapsed into silence and wouldn't reply at all to further interrogation.
Frank came back from on-eye with the information that there was no arrest record for Mrs. Nelson.
We put out calls to the sales girls who had waited on the little mother in the past
and asked them to come down to the office to see if they could identify the suspect.
Yes, ma'am. Room 29.
Yeah, come right in the first street entrance, turn left into the police department.
That's right, ma'am. There's an arch there. Go right through it.
Straight down the hall and to the right.
Well, it's the only way you can go. It's on the left as you go down the hall.
That's right, 29.
If you'll ask for Sergeant Friday or Officer Smith.
No, ma'am, Smith. That's all right, ma'am. We'll expect you.
Goodbye. I'll call the next one.
Yeah.
You know, you'd save yourself and us a lot of trouble if you'd tell us the truth, Mrs. Nelson.
Mrs. Nelson?
Hello, may I speak with Miss Brundage, please?
And children's wear?
Yes, ma'am, I will.
Hang up the phone.
Thank you, partner.
You don't have to go through this anymore.
All right, ma'am.
You want to tell us about it?
Mrs. Nelson?
I only did it for them, the kids. I didn't want to.
How do you think I felt when I knew I was stealing? How do you think I felt?
You want to go ahead?
My husband, Paul, is a good man.
What he's done, he thinks is right. I can't quarrel with him.
But he doesn't know, he doesn't understand.
It isn't that he doesn't love the kids. He does. He really does.
It's just that he doesn't understand. You can see that, can't you?
He doesn't understand about them.
Either of you have a handkerchief?
I came away this morning without one.
Yes, ma'am. Here you are.
Thanks.
You want to go ahead, please?
All his life he's worked, put in long hours without a thought of what he was doing to himself.
Every nickel, every nickel he made was put away so he'd be able to feel secure,
so he wouldn't have to worry about anything.
It was all right when we first got married. I could understand it then.
I went along with what he thought.
But the last few years it's gotten to be an obsession with him.
The almighty dollar, that's all that seems important to him.
What kind of work does your husband do, Mrs. Nelson?
He owns a grocery store.
Small place, but it does good, makes a good living.
Only we aren't living, we're existing.
He gives me ten dollars a week to run the house and buy clothes for the kids.
I've tried, Lord knows I've tried, budget meals, cheap cuts of meat, day-old bread.
Any way you spend it, no matter how you figure, ten dollars,
it just doesn't go very far.
Now, Mrs. Nelson, didn't you talk to your husband about it?
Didn't you ask him for additional money for the expenses?
Yes, I'd ask him and he'd tell me if I had to make do all the time,
make do just a little longer until he had the money in the bank,
then we'd be all right.
Only the more it went on, the worse it got.
It didn't seem to make any difference how much money we had,
how the total in the passbook went up. He wasn't satisfied.
Had to be a little more, a little more.
I guess I'm feeling sorry for myself, but you see,
he could afford to buy the kids decent clothes, at least that.
You agree with me, don't you?
Well, that's hard to say, ma'am.
Not for me.
I'll never forget the day when my boy came home crying, been fighting.
One of the other boys at school had said something about the patches on his clothes.
Just a little kid, that's all he was, ridiculed by his friends.
That's when I made up my mind to do something about it.
Does your husband know anything about your activities?
No, nothing.
How'd you explain the new clothes for the youngster to him?
I didn't have to.
Last year he's been working so hard at the store, I hardly ever see him.
The kids don't hardly know him.
He even spends Sunday at the store dressing the windows.
You mean he spends all his time there?
Every minute he's not asleep.
He let one crook he had go so he could save the money.
It doesn't make any difference who gets hurt.
Get that dollar and put it away.
That's what counts, put the dollar away.
You know something, officer?
What's that, Miss Nelson?
I haven't been able to sit down and talk to my husband for six weeks.
Six weeks, he gets home at 12.30, one o'clock in the morning.
He's up and gone at 6.30.
Kids are always asking when Daddy's coming home.
How do you answer him?
How do you make him understand?
I can't.
I've tried the only way I know how, and I did it so wrong.
All right, Miss Nelson, we'll try to work it out.
Can I use your phone?
I've got to tell the children what to do about dinner.
I'll call if you like, ma'am.
What's the number?
Hollywood 9-8-8-4-4.
Where's your husband now, Miss Nelson?
At the store, I guess. Are you going to call him?
I think we should, ma'am. Let him know what's happened.
I guess so. Somebody's got to take care of the kids.
Hello, I'm calling for Mrs. Nelson.
I wonder if I could speak to her son,
Mr. Sergeant Friday, Los Angeles Police Department.
Who?
Yes, no, she's down here now. Room 29.
All right, fine.
Was that my boy? I wanted to talk to him.
No, ma'am, that was your husband. He's on his way down here.
2.14 p.m. Paul Nelson walked into the office.
Frank and I took him and his wife to the interrogation room.
She'd asked us while we waited for him
if we'd let her talk to him for a few minutes alone.
We stayed out in the hall, and after a brief wait,
Paul Nelson opened the door and asked us to come into the room.
His wife had evidently told him the full story
because he was visibly shaken.
He walked over to his wife and sat down beside her.
Well, I guess I've really done it, haven't I?
What do you mean, sir?
I've really ruined everything.
My home, my kids, everything.
All the time it was happening, I never knew it, never had an idea.
Don't blame yourself too much, Paul.
But I should have known, I should have seen it myself.
Even when you tried to tell me I was too busy
to see it, too wrapped up with the business.
It wasn't for me, Paul. It was for the children.
It doesn't make any difference who it was for.
I'm the one who caused it. I'm the one. It's my fault.
I'm sorry, Evelyn.
How can I ever make it up to you?
Don't think about that now, Paul. It won't do any good.
What's been done can't be changed.
How about it, Officer?
Sir?
What happens now?
Well, your wife's going to be given a preliminary hearing.
She'll have the chance to plead guilty.
If she does, the court will decide what to do.
What's the punishment for what she's done?
Well, according to Section 473 of the penal code,
it's imprisonment in the state penitentiary
for one to 14 years or for not more than a year
in the county jail.
Is there any way out of it?
What do you mean?
Any way of getting Evelyn out of it?
If I went to the judge and told him why she did it,
if I told him it was my fault, would that make a difference?
I don't know. I'd be up to the court.
But I could try.
Yes, sir?
If I paid the money back for all the things she's taken,
I can afford it. I could go to the stores and pay him.
Maybe they'd feel different then, huh?
I could make it up to him. Everything would be all right.
Well, it's been going on for six years, you know.
But if I did pay the stores back,
it'd make it up to him, wouldn't it?
Maybe, but how about your wife?
What?
How are you going to make it up to her?
4.30 p.m. The suspect was released on a writ.
The next afternoon, Frank and I met with Mr. and Mrs. Nelson
and their attorney. We talked over the case.
It seemed that the husband's change of heart was permanent.
He swore that he'd never give his wife cause for unhappiness again.
Two weeks later, in Department 89 of the Superior Court,
Mrs. Nelson entered a plea of guilty to 14 counts of forgery.
When the court reviewed the circumstances
and was informed that Mr. Nelson intended to make full restitution,
the probation board recommended that Mrs. Nelson
be placed on probation for three years.
After the hearing, Frank and I had a brief talk with the couple.
They thanked us for our consideration and understanding.
Apparently, the cause of trouble between the Nelsons had been erased.
Another two weeks went by.
January 22nd, Frank and I got back from lunch,
and we checked into the office.
Here they are, dear.
Mr. Friday, Mr. Smith?
Mrs. Nelson, Mr. Nelson, how are you?
Just fine, Sergeant. How are you two?
Fine, thank you very much, ma'am. What can we do for you?
It's what we want to do for you.
Sir?
You got the boxes, honey?
Yeah, here they are.
It's not much, but we thought that you'd like them.
Made them ourselves to say thanks.
Look at that, Joe. That's not necessary, ma'am.
You didn't have to do that.
No, no, we wanted to.
Toll house cookies. He made a box for each of you.
Real good. Lots of chocolate.
Well, that's very nice of you.
We just hope you'll enjoy them.
Yes, ma'am, I'm sure we will.
Yes, ma'am.
How are things going with you?
Well, just fine.
Paul and I have gotten everything straightened out.
I help him out at the store now.
That way he's got more time to spend with the kids.
Things just couldn't be much better.
Well, we're glad to hear that.
It's a funny thing to say, Mr. Friday, but it's true.
The best thing that ever happened to us.
What's happened, Mrs. Nelson?
Am I getting arrested?
The story you have just heard is true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On January 8th, the meeting was held in the county probationer's office
in and for the county of Los Angeles, state of California.
In a moment, the results of that meeting.
Now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you, George Fenomen.
Friends, we've been getting letters from people all over the country
telling us that they've switched to Chesterfield.
Just as I've been telling you, thousands of smokers are changing to Chesterfield
because only Chesterfield gives proof of low nicotine, highest quality.
That's why I recommend you try them today.
Regular or king size, you'll find Chesterfield best for you.
At the end of three years, Mrs. Evelyn Margaret Nelson
had fulfilled the requirements of her probation,
and the case was officially marked closed.
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 Wynn,
Sergeant Fance Sprecher.
Heard tonight were Ben Alexander, Vic Rodman, Joyce McCluskey.
Script by John Robinson.
Music by Walter Schuman.
Hal Gibney speaking.
Watch an entirely new Dragnet case history each week on your local NBC television station.
Please check your newspaper for the day and time.
Chesterfield has brought you Dragnet, transcribed from Los Angeles.
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This is the NBC Radio Network.