All language subtitles for Dragnet-S02E09-The.Big.Ad

This is the city, Los
Angeles, California.

It's a modern city...

Some say the one of the future.

It's all electronic
and computerized.

They've got computers
here that can read and store

140,000 words in
2.5 microseconds,

others that can plot
probability curves

for anything you care
to predict in a man's life.

They can do the
same for his death.

The machines can tell you that
of the average 25,000 people

who will die in Los
Angeles this year,

300 of them, or
82/100 of one percent

will die by an act of murder.

That's a small percentage,

but it's one I deal
with. I carry a badge.

It was Monday, March 20th.

It was foggy in Los Angeles.

We were working the
day watch out of Homicide.

The boss is Captain Hugh Brown.

My partner's Bill Gannon.

My name's Friday.

We had just checked
back into the squad room

after running down a
lead in an unsolved case.

It went nowhere.

The story you are
about to see is true.

The names have been
changed to protect the innocent.

You know, you're lucky, Joe.

You don't have to
worry about your weight.

I don't, huh?

When did you start
worrying about yours?

I didn't. My sister-in-law did.

The woman's become a health nut.

She got a hold of
one of those charts

that tell you how
much you should weigh

for how old you are and all.

Turns out I'm 4 1/2 pounds over.

Never can get these things open.

Well, it could be worse.

You wouldn't say that

if you had to eat yogurt
every day for a solid week.

There's a candy bar
in the drawer there.

Forget it.

My sister-in-law is
staying with us this week,

while her husband's back East.

The minute I walk
in that house tonight,

I step on a scale.

Boy, I can't wait till 3:00.

What happens at 3:00?

I get to have an apple.

- Joe, Bill.
- Yes, sir?

I want you and Bill to
take a ride out to Venice.

I just talked to Sergeant
Porterfield, West L.A. Vice.

There's a friend
of his out there,

might be he's got a 653f
PC, soliciting for murder.

The guy's name is Steve Deal.

Here's the address.

He's got a record, but he's
been clean four years now.

Porterfield thinks
he's leveling.

What's that?

That's my lunch, Captain.

- You could lose a few pounds.
- Yes, sir.

Try an apple later
if you get hungry.

It'll help.

12:48 p.m. We
drove out to Venice

to check the possible
murder solicitation.

Solicitation to commit murder

is a violation of Section 653f

of the California Penal Code.

1:32 p.m. We arrived at
Steven Deal's address.

It was a cheap couple of
rooms over a pottery shop.

- What?
- Police officers.

Oh, yeah, okay.

You the guys Porterfield sent?

- That's right.
- Friday and Gannon, Homicide.

Oh, come on in.

Boy, this place is a real wreck.

I didn't expect
you guys so soon.

I'll just straighten it up.

- Don't bother.
- No bother!

Just take a minute.

There, that's better,
huh? Yeah, it's fine.

Isn't that a gas?
Some of Myra's work.

She runs the pottery
shop downstairs.

That girl's a real talent.

What's it supposed to be?

Number 15.

Huh?

- Myra calls it Number 15.
- Okay.

You want to tell us
what this is about?

Yeah, postcard's right here.

"A thousand isn't enough.

"If you want to make a killing,

replace the ad and
give a phone number."

- Weird, huh?
- Maybe.

Might not be
anything. I don't know.

How'd you happen
to get this card, Steve?

Well, I was broke,
see... I mean, dirty broke,

the original plenty of nothing.

Well, I, uh, guess you
guys know I did time.

Yeah, we know.

Yeah, I did a year
for grand theft auto.

I mean, I blew one once.

And, well, it happens, right?

It happens.

How'd you get this card?

The parole thing is over now.

I'm free. If I want to
go, I can go anywhere,

and I had a kind of an offer
for a job writing some stuff.

What do you write?

Poems, words for greeting cards.

I studied how to
do it in the joint.

I got so sick of those cards
people used to send me,

I figured I could do better.

The card?

Yeah, well, I needed
bread, and I needed a chunk,

so I put this ad in
The L.A. Happening.

Just said that I was
willing to do anything,

repeat, anything for
a thousand bucks.

The L.A. Happening, what's that?

One of those way-out
hippy newspapers, you know,

comes out once a
week, full of weird ads

and against everything,
especially cops.

And this was the answer you got?

Yeah, just this morning.

What else did you get?

Well, I got two
offers of marriage.

If you ever want to
read some nutty letters...

And a guy wanted me to
take over a franchise deal

on some kind of pickle thing,

and another guy wanted to
take moving pictures of me.

Man, that letter was
nothing but strange.

What was it about this card
that made you call Porterfield?

I've been clean ever
since I got out, Sergeant.

I want to stay that way.

I'm not about to get
involved with a somebody

maybe wanting to make a hit.

I've gotta tell you,

it hasn't got much to do
with me being a good citizen.

It's just got to do
with me doing for me.

I've known Milt
Porterfield since school.

He's always been straight
with me, so I called him.

What did you want the money for?

About the only stuff I've sold
was some Christmas material

to this little
company in Denver.

They called me and told me,

if I could get set up there,

I could probably
sell them some more.

I wanted to get there fast,

and I didn't want
to go poor mouth.

Tell me, do you think
this card could mean a hit?

Who knows? I got the thing.

And anyway, there was no
return address on it, no nothing.

Like I say, it seemed weird,

and I thought I'd better
let you guys worry about it.

All right. We'll take
this card along with us

- and think about it.
- We'll get back to you.

Okay. Oh, but, Sergeant,
the thing just says,

"if I want to make a killing."

That could mean like the
stock market or something.

It could.

Sure.

But you usually
say that to a man

who's already got a
thousand, don't you?

Huh.

We returned to PAB

and gave Deal's
postcard to Captain Brown.

It was 3:05 p.m.

All right, maybe we've got
a 653, and maybe we don't.

Mailed yesterday from
Beverly Hills and no return.

It could be anything.

- Yes, sir.
- This deal,

he make any kind of
walk-around money pitch for this?

Never mentioned money.

- And he's broke?
- Yes, sir, he is.

All right, call Porterfield.

We'll see what he thinks,
and let us play out the string.

Have Deal place the other
ad, and you stand by his phone.

If he's that broke,
is the bill paid?

Well, we'll see that it is.

Do that.

Joe, if we can
make an arrest here,

I want it a clean one.

If the guy does tumble
for the second ad and calls,

and we do have a
solicitation to commit murder,

I want you to make awful sure

that you don't
solicit him yourself.

You'll just have to sell
him that you're Steve Deal

and make him come to you.

Yes, sir, I know that.

How far do you want me to go?

All the way.

If somebody wants somebody
else knocked off right away,

he doesn't worry about the
rulebook, and we have to.

And if we spook him,

there's nothing to prevent
him soliciting somebody else.

Yes, sir.

Or, maybe doing the job himself.

Tuesday, March 21st, 11:15 a.m.

Deal had placed the
second ad in The Happening.

It would run Friday morning.

We had the photo lab

make up a driver's
license in Deal's name,

only with my picture
and signature.

The same was done
for all forms of ID

that Deal would normally carry.

Friday, March 24th, 9:05 a.m.

The Happening would be
on the stands any minute.

We took up a watch on
Steve Deal's telephone.

Hello.

Yes, that's right.

I placed the ad,
same as last week.

Oh?

Did you get a letter from
a girl named Beverly?

Yes, yes, I did. I got it.

Well, no.

No, that wouldn't work out.

No, I wouldn't be interested.

Yes, I am married.

No, no, I wouldn't
be interested, lady.

Yes, ma'am.

What's the matter,
Joe? You're not married,

and a thousand bucks
is a thousand bucks.

Well, you are married.

Suppose somebody
offered you a thousand bucks

to get a divorce.
Would you take it?

Joe, that's a terrible question

to ask any married man.

I guess the paper's out now.

Yeah, I guess.

What's gonna happen
when this guy calls?

If I can sell him that I'm
you, and I need money,

he'll probably arrange
to meet me someplace.

What if he doesn't buy it?

Then we're out of luck.

Somebody could get killed.

Maybe.

Say you do sell him you're me,

then you meet him, and as soon
as he asks you to kill somebody,

you bust him, right?

Wrong. His just
asking me isn't enough.

It's just his word against
mine, and it's not admissible.

He's gotta give me some
piece of hard evidence,

so I can prove that he asked me.

And you've gotta
con him into it.

- Can't do that, either.
- Huh?

In the law, they
call that entrapment.

The guy's gotta solicit Joe.

If Joe solicits him,

his attorney will say
that Joe trapped him.

They'll throw it
right out of court.

So you just play it by ear.

Nope, by the book.

Hello.

Yeah, yeah, that was me.

You the one that sent the card?

Well, I hope you're not
putting me on, Mister.

That extra ad cost me two bucks.

Yeah, sure, I want it back.

I don't have two bucks
lying around all the time.

Well, what difference does it
make what I need the money for?

I need it.

Well, why should
I tell you that?

Okay, okay.

My name's Steve Deal, and I
write words for greeting cards.

Mister, if you'd read
anything I'd written,

I wouldn't need
the thousand bucks.

Yeah, that's what I
said in the ad, anything.

Look, I'm not
asking any questions.

It doesn't matter what you want
done for the money... anything.

Yeah, all right, I'll meet ya.

I've got a Ford wagon, a '60.

All right, yeah, I
know where that is.

Okay.

- All right.
- What?

No, the license number
on the wagon is JUO664.

664.

All right.

9:00.

I'll be there.

9:00 tonight,

exactly 2 and 6/10 miles
up Beverly Glen from Sunset.

I'm supposed to
park the wagon there,

sit in it and wait
for 20 minutes.

Then I'm to drive on
to Mulholland, turn left,

and go 7/10 of a mile.

There's a dirt shoulder
there off to the right.

I pull over and park.

- Not bad.
- Not bad?

It means the guy
can check on you

and make sure nobody's
following. That's smart.

No, that's not smart.
That's just kind of cute.

- How do you mean?
- If he was smart,

he wouldn't need anybody
killed in the first place.

It was decided that Steve Deal

would visit a friend of
his at Redondo Beach.

He agreed to let us
use his apartment

until the case was concluded.

8:59 p.m. I followed
the instructions

and drove Deal's station
wagon up Beverly Glen

to a point 2 and 6/10
miles above Sunset.

I parked and waited.

9:20 p.m. I started the wagon

and moved out for
the spot off Mulholland.

Two undercover police cars were
on a rolling stakeout in the area,

and Bill had the meeting
place under surveillance.

9:37 p.m. I'd been
waiting over 12 minutes.

Steve Deal?

That's right.

You follow
instructions pretty good.

I need money pretty good.

This thing of putting an
ad in the paper like you did,

- you do that often?
- It was just an idea.

You said you were willing
to do anything for $1,000.

What's your
definition of anything?

Why do you need the money?

My definition of anything

is just what the
word says... Anything.

Why I need the
money is my business.

I'm not asking
you any questions.

You got some identification?

Yeah.

Here.

Maybe we can talk some business.

Then let's talk it.

Now, you said there was
more than a thousand in it.

If I decide you're the
man for the job, there is.

I'd want you to steal
something for me.

Well, I didn't figure it
was going to be legal.

Something that belongs
to my wife, a locket.

A locket. What's it worth?

About 200.

- Grand?
- Dollars.

You're going to pay me
a thousand bucks or more

just to steal a
locket worth 200?

That's right.

Except I wouldn't
want any witnesses.

- You wouldn't?
- No.

If there were any witnesses,
we couldn't do any business.

You always talk
in circles, fella?

Why don't you tell me
what you really want?

I told you. I want
a locket taken.

Yeah.

Since I wouldn't
want any witnesses,

and since she
wears it constantly,

she'd have to be killed.

Well, you finally said
the words, didn't ya?

Now, what happens?

Now, we've got
something to talk about.

You want somebody
killed, it'll cost you 5.

- 2.
- 4.

- 3.
- 3.

My wife is an unusual woman.

She's a predictable alcoholic.

She was brought up to believe
that no decent person drinks

before 5:00 in the afternoon.

She doesn't, but by
6:00, she's loaded,

every night of her life.

I don't want her dead

so much for the fact
that she's drunk after 5:00

as I do that she's
sober before it.

That's my problem.

When you hit her,
I'd like it to hurt.

But there's no sense
taking that chance.

All right, how are
you going to work it?

I want you to
walk into the house

and hit my wife over the head

with a length of
galvanized iron pipe.

Hit her as many
times as you like.

Just make sure you hit her
hard and that the job is done.

She'll be passed out
on the couch in the study.

She always is.

She won't hear you come
in. I can make sure of that

with a little pure
alcohol in her scotch.

You're gonna give
me a key to the place?

You won't need a key.

I'll leave the front
door open for you.

You walk in, get it done,

then go to the
desk in the study.

There'll be a thousand in cash

taped under the middle drawer.

You take that and the
locket from my wife's neck,

and you meet me back up
here at a time I'll give you later,

and you get your other 2,000.

Look, I've gotta case the place.

At least give me the address.

It's going to take me until
Sunday to set my alibi.

If I decide to use you, I'll
give you the address then.

All right, if you decide,
we've got a contract.

No, we've got an understanding.

Yeah?

I'll let you know on Sunday
if we've got a contract.

10:13 p.m. The suspect
got into his car and drove off.

He had given me nothing
to build a case with.

- What happened?
- Not enough.

- Did you get a name?
- No.

I called the license
number in to DMV.

There's no warrant on it,

nothing back from Records yet.

I'll give you odds
it's not his car.

No bet.

Do you think he's leveling?

He wants his wife dead, Bill.

Now, he's either
gonna have me do it,

or he's gonna get
somebody else to do it.

Yeah?

Or he might even do it himself.

Saturday, March 25th, 8:07 a.m.

The undercover police
cars on rolling stakeout

had tailed the suspect
down to Sunset,

but they had lost him

when he had abandoned
the car in Hollywood.

Riley Maxwell of latent
prints had gone over the car.

It was clean.

DMV Records in
Sacramento had run it down

as belonging to a
Mrs. Dorothy Caley

at an address on Tularosa.

Yes, ma'am.

Well, thank you.

Now, you be sure and lock
your car after this, will you?

Thanks again.

Mrs. Caley had her
bridge club in last night.

She didn't even know
the thing had been stolen.

Didn't lock it when she
parked it last night, huh?

- No, she didn't.
- Keys on the sun visor.

Glove compartment.

Why didn't she put a sign on it?

How about some coffee,
Joe? Be glad to get you a cup.

No, thanks.

Relax. Don't let it get to you.

Someplace out in this city,

there's a man making up his mind

whether or not to use
me to murder his wife,

and I don't like it.

There's nothing we can do
about it until he calls again.

I don't know.

Maybe I just should've
pulled him in last night.

You'd have blown the case.

Yeah, but maybe it
might've scared him off.

Sunday, March 26th, 8:00 a.m.

Bill and I took up a telephone
watch in Steve Deal's apartment.

There had been no way to
get a make on the suspect.

The only thing we could do
now was wait for him to call.

10:27 p.m. 14 hours went by.

The telephone had not rung.

One thing I've gotta do.

Yeah, what's that?

If that's called Number
15, sometime I've gotta go

and find out what
Number 16 looks like.

Yeah.

You know, if this
character does call,

he's gonna try and
have some cute setup

where we can't follow him.

The only chance
we've got to nail him

is for you to go all
the way with him.

That could add up to anything.

Well, we don't have
much choice, do we?

No, we don't.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yes, I still want that 3,000.

Well, when?

Where?

Yeah, anything you say.

Says I should go out
and just start driving.

Where to?

Said I'd find out.

Think we ought to
try a loose tail on you?

He might be trying that himself.

10:48 p.m. Deal's station wagon

was parked in front
of the apartment.

I didn't know where or how

the suspect would
try and make contact.

Page 281 of the Western
Directory phone book

had been torn out and left
on the front seat of the car.

The address of Jason Lum,
10788 Bellagio Road, Bel Air,

had been circled.

11:17 p.m., I arrived
at 10788 Bellagio.

Again, you follow
instructions very well.

I still need the dough.

Is this it?

No, this was just a checkout.

Go back to your place
and wait. I'll call you.

- You'll call me?
- When?

You'll know, the
minute the phone rings.

11:25 p.m. I return
to Deal's apartment.

- Another false alarm?
- Yeah.

Well, we've got two
undercover units in the area now.

They've got your
wagon staked out.

Anybody goes near
it, they'll tail him.

Okay.

You think he'll try
the same thing again?

It's a big phone book.

1:22 a.m. Monday, March 27th.

The suspect had called again.

Another page of the phone book

had been dropped
in the station wagon.

This time, the address
was in West Los Angeles.

It was another false alarm.

2:15 a.m.

I return to Deal's apartment
for the second time.

Right, thanks.

We got him, Joe. The
tail made him this time.

Name's Forrester, Harvey L.,
10671 Chalon Road, Bel Air.

- Anything on him?
- No, he's clean.

Well, what have we got then?

A name and an address.

Yeah.

All we need now is
a case to go with it.

3:10 a.m. The suspect, whom we
now knew to be Harvey Forrester,

called again, and I was given
an address in Englewood.

This time, I knew it
was the wrong address.

Monday, March 27th. There
was no word at all from Forrester

during the daylight hours.

10:12 p.m. Forrester called.

This time, I was
given instructions.

I was told to go to the address

I'd find in the station wagon

and wait for 15 minutes.

If I didn't hear from him,

I was to enter the house
and get the job done.

Then I was to met him
at the place off Mulholland

and receive the
rest of the money.

The address he
circled was his own.

Harvey Forrester, 10671
Chalon Road, Bel Air.

I called Bill on the
walkie-talkie and filled him in.

I drove out to Bel Air.

I was two blocks from Forrester's
address on Chalon Road.

It was 10:32 p.m.

- Joe, you'd better hold it up.
- What's going on?

Forrester isn't out trying
to establish an alibi.

He's inside that
house right now.

You can figure the rest.

I kill the wife, he kills me.

- Looks that way, doesn't it?
- Yeah.

The only trouble is it
doesn't change anything.

We still don't have anything
admissible against him.

Well, Joe, maybe the
woman's already dead.

What's to stop him
from trying to kill you

the minute you open the door?

He's afraid to kill his wife.

If he wasn't, she'd have
been dead before this.

No, I think he has to have
somebody else do the job for him.

Who are you trying to convince?

Me or you?

10:37 p.m. I drove the
remaining two blocks

to the Forrester house,

parked, and waited
for 15 minutes.

There was no
sign of the suspect.

10:52 p.m. I left the wagon
and started for the house.

By now, Bill and the other three
officers working the stakeout

would have had enough
time to get into position.

Bill and I had agreed
that they would give me

three minutes inside
to smoke Forrester out

before moving in to back me up.

10:54 p.m. I entered the house.

I knew Forrester had
to be somewhere close.

I couldn't see him.

- She dead?
- What are you doing here?

You were supposed to be
out getting yourself an alibi.

True. But instead, I'm
about to shoot a burglar

with $1,000 of my
money in his pocket.

I don't need an alibi.

Sorry, Deal. Your mistake.

No, Forrester, you
made the mistake.

I'm a police officer, and there
are four more right outside.

Now, you be a good boy,

and you walk over there
and put that gun on that desk.

You've got nothing
on me, nothing at all.

Don't we?

Here's the thousand,
under the drawer like he said.

I'll get a photog out here, Joe.

- Drunk?
- Yeah.

I'll call an ambulance.

Right.

How'd you find me, anyway?
How did you know who I was?

You fell in love
with the phone book.

The second time
you tried that page bit,

you were followed.

Lousy, sloppy drunk!

Don't knock her, Forrester.

She had a good reason to drink.

And what's that?

Being married to you.

The suspect was found guilty

of soliciting the
commission of a murder,

an offense which is punishable
by imprisonment in the county jail,

not longer than one year,

or in the state prison,
not longer than five years,

or by a fine of not
more than $5,000.