Original subtitles

This is the city, Los Angeles, California.

In 1877, early settlers

sent a carload of California oranges east

and began a great migration west.

Not many oranges grow in the city today,

but if you have the money,

you can buy anything from a glass of juice

to a 300-room hotel.

People sell, and people buy.

If the sellers don't give a dollar's worth for a dollar,

the buyers find out quick,

and the seller doesn't stay in business long.

Some sellers take money for goods

or services they don't deliver.

When that happens, they wind up doing business with me.

I carry a badge.

It was Thursday, November 15th.

It was hot in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch

out of Frauds Division, Bunko Section.

The boss is Captain Lambert.

My partner's Bill Gannon.

My name's Friday.

The Captain had just received a phone call,

and it was easy to see he wasn't too happy about it.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Woman I just talked to

has got a voice that would etch glass.

She was really fuming.

Well, who's this Captain Fremont

she was talking about?

That's what you're going to find out.

I checked personnel.

There is no Captain Fremont in the Department.

What's she so upset about, Skipper?

This is the third time she's called,

since I checked in this morning.

I couldn't get a word in.

I have no idea what the screaming's all about.

Hop out there and see if you can straighten it out.

Name's Ethel Gower.

Yes, sir. What's this? Little Sisters?

That's right. Gower woman runs a bar out on South Atlantic.

Yes, sir.

Sounds more like the command post for World War III.

We pulled out of the police garage

and headed for South Atlantic Boulevard.

3:17 p.m. We arrived at Mrs. Gower's place.

What'll it be, boys?

- You're Mrs. Gower? - That's me.

Police officers. This is Bill Gannon. My name's Friday.

Where's Captain Fremont?

Well, that's what we'd like to know, Mrs. Gower.

You gonna tell me there ain't no Captain Fremont on the force?

That's right, there isn't.

Well, I should've figured

you'd be on his payroll, too.

When are you cops gonna stop covering for him?

We're not covering for anybody, Mrs. Gower.

We'd just like to ask you a few questions.

Send that other plainclothesman over.

He's the cop I want to talk to!

What other plainclothesman?

Look, I know the whole force is in on this con,

so why don't you stop making

like you don't know nothing about the NALE!

- The what? - The NALE...

The con game you cops are working.

Now, just a minute, Mrs. Gower.

We're not here to con you. We're here to try and help you.

Help me? That's a laugh!

Help yourselves, you mean.

You're all scared to death I'm gonna blow the whistle

on your sweet little racket,

after what I told that desk sergeant!

What desk sergeant?

The one that booked me. You know I'm out on bail.

Now, why don't you tell us the whole story,

right from the beginning?

I was cheated out of my share of the NALE courtesy treatment,

and I ain't sittin' still for it!

I'm gonna write the mayor, the governor,

and the attorney general!

Cops or no cops, I ain't getti" beat out of no 35 bucks!

Who cheated you out of that money, Mrs. Gower?

As if you didn't know.

Well, tell us who it was!

You play dumb, if you want to.

You cops is gonna sweat

by the time I get done with you.

All right, now, Mrs. Gower, no more threats.

You registered a complaint,

and we're here to straighten it out.

Are you gonna cooperate with us or aren't you?

Don't lean on me, buster. Little Sister don't scare.

We're not trying to scare you, ma'am.

We're just trying to find out what this is all about.

Suppose you start by telling us how you were cheated.

How I was cheated? Just look at me.

I was cheated the day I was born.

Ever since the doctor picked me up and slapped me,

I've been whacked around by men.

But me hit one guy, and it's in the can for me.

I tell you, it ain't fair.

I even get hustled by a cop.

- Which cop? - The plainclothes guy,

the sergeant that works for Captain Fremont.

Well, what's this sergeant's name?

Here, it's on all the receipts.

Sergeant Preston C. Densmore.

Well, did this man tell you he's with the Department?

He works for Captain Fremont at the NALE.

You know him.

We don't know Fremont, Densmore,

or this NALE thing you keep talking about.

Here, read this and tell me you don't know what it is.

"This certifies Ethel Gower as a friend

"of the National Association for Law Enforcement,

"and as a contributor to the NALE Widows and Orphans Fund

"is entitled to all courtesy and special privileges.

"You are hereby ordered to extend same to this friend of NALE.

"Signed, Paul G. Fremont,

Captain, Los Angeles Branch, NALE."

And check that address, 150 North Los Angeles Street.

That's the police department's address,

but nobody's authorized to issue cards like that.

You telling me it's no good?

No, ma'am, it's no good.

Then how come Axel Varney's got the same exact card,

and it works for him?

Axel Varney?

The shoemaker next door.

I'll get him in here to prove it to ya.

Axel didn't even take out as big an ad as me,

and his card works like a dream,

and the first time I use mine, I wind up in the bucket!

Well, now, what's all that

about you taking out an ad, Mrs. Gower?

You know what one?

The NALE Magazine Sgt. Densmore sells the ads for.

You all read it. It comes out every month.

Is that what you gave him the $35 for, an ad?

Sure.

"Little Sister serves big drinks!"

You seen it, didn't you?

We've never seen the magazine.

Well, I seen it. Densmore showed me a copy.

Every one of you is supposed to get it.

That's what this Densmore told you, did he?

Yeah. And for the ad, I got a courtesy card.

Huh, some courtesy.

For shoemakers maybe, not for lady tavern keepers.

You call me, Little Sister?

These boys are cops.

Tell them about your NALE card, Ax?

Oh, sure! Carry it with me at all times.

Works like a charm.

Thank you.

Before I bought that little ad

for your Widows and Orphans Fund,

I had a lot of trouble.

What kind of trouble, Mr. Varney?

Oh, driving to Caliente for the races every Sunday,

I'd always get one or two traffic tickets.

Has this card been honored by police officers?

Oh, works like a charm!

See, what'd I tell you?

Who honored the card, Mr. Varney?

Mexican authorities or American?

Oh, I never get no tickets in Mexico, only here.

Since I got that card, I've had five moving violations,

four, maybe five parking tickets.

Did the arresting officers extend any special privileges

when you showed them this card?

Oh, I didn't never show it to 'em.

Well, then why do you say it works?

Well, Sergeant Densmore, he told me what to do.

He said, "Whenever I get tickets,

- just tear 'em up." - See?

How long you been doing this, Mr. Varney?

Oh, about five months now. Just tear 'em up.

That's the beauty of that courtesy card.

You been contacted by the police

about those tickets?

I got a couple of letters. Just tore them up, too.

No sweat, no trouble.

Let me give you some advice, Mr. Varney.

What's that?

Next time you get a letter,

it'd be a good idea to answer it.

4:35 p.m. We returned to the office

and checked out Sergeant Preston Densmore.

There was no record of anyone with that name

in either the personnel or CII files.

The NALE scam looked like a petty scheme,

but it was injurious to the Department,

as well as to the public.

If a police force is to function effectively,

it must not be held in suspicion by the community.

Well, that'll do it, Joe.

We'll have Axel Varney's NALE card in a few hours.

- Oh, how's that? - Had R&I check him out.

There are four misdemeanor traffic warrants out for him already.

Yeah.

He's got a total bail tab of over 200 bucks.

Gave all the dope

to the watch commander at University Division.

Looks like that Gower woman never did believe you.

Now what, Captain?

She's been calling the Chief's office.

They say she sounds like a nice, endearing lady.

Yeah, about as nice and endearing

as a scream from the dentist's office.

Look, Joe, you or Bill work up a 15-7.

Lay out this whole bunk.

I'd like every patrolman,

every watch commander to be alerted.

See how many of those bunk cards are floating around town,

and under what circumstances

- the holders parted with their money. - Yes, sir.

How about talking to Dan Cook, Captain?

Break some kind of story in the papers, TV?

All right, see what he can do.

You take care of the 15-7. I'll talk to Dan, huh?

I'd like to have that report by quitting time.

I promised Eileen I'd be home on time tonight, Captain.

We were gonna celebrate.

- Celebrate what? - That I got home on time.

Saturday, November 17th, 9:50 a.m.

We had Varney's fake courtesy card

surrendered to the arresting officers.

We also had another victim of the bunko,

a businessman named Wesley Hundorn.

Yes, sir, it's just like mine, the same card.

And you say you lost yours?

Lost, misplaced.

When I saw that little squib in this morning's paper,

it rang a bell,

and I thought I should call on you gentlemen.

I'm a public-spirited citizen.

Well, we thank you, Mr. Hundorn.

Now, can you tell us

why you were issued that card and by whom?

Gladly. I first got a call at Wesley Hundorn's World.

Wesley Hundorn's World?

That's my place of business, a travel agency.

Yes, sir.

Captain Fremont told me if I were to advertise

in the NALE publication, I might get all your charters.

What charters?

Charter flights.

Hawaii, Europe, tours for NALE members.

But if there is no such organization,

I guess that explains it.

Explains what, sir?

Why I never got any business from you.

Yes, sir. All you got was that card.

I never had any intention of using the card.

I want that understood, officers.

I don't believe in special privileges.

When did this Captain Fremont call on you, Mr. Hundorn?

Last July 12th.

All right, can you describe him for us?

We never met vis-a-vis. We spoke on the telephone.

Did you mail your check to him?

No, a sergeant came by.

Was the sergeant in uniform?

Same uniform you gentlemen wear,

an off-the-rack suit and shiny shoes.

Sergeant Preston C. Densmore.

I have his receipt and my canceled check right here.

It's made out to the National Association for Law Enforcement,

endorsed by Captain Paul G. Fremont.

Thank you.

$250.

I took a full page. Would you like to see the ad?

You have it with you?

Yes.

- You may keep that, if you like. - We sure would.

Then my coming here was of some value to you gentlemen?

- Very valuable. - Thank you, sir.

No, no. I don't want any thanks.

As I told you, I'm a public-spirited citizen.

But there is one thing you might do.

Yes, sir, and what's that?

I'm afraid I over-parked. I'm down on Main Street.

Sorry, Mr. Hundorn, we can't do anything about that.

Oh, come now.

You can fix a little parking ticket.

Well, now, I thought you said

you didn't believe in special privileges, Hundorn?

I don't, but I helped you, didn't I?

- Yes, sir. - Doesn't one good turn deserve another?

All right, we'll do you a good turn.

And what's that?

We'll try to run Captain Fremont

out of Wesley Hundorn's World.

Wesley Hundorn's copy of the NALE Magazine

provided us with a solid lead.

A line in the masthead stated that the publication

was printed by the Cabo Press of Los Angeles.

They were open half days on Saturdays.

It was 10:15 a.m.

The address was a six-minute drive from Parker Center.

Well, it's about time some officers showed up,

but you'd better have it in cash this time.

Cash for what, Mr. Cabo?

Well, the books.

You are from Fremont, aren't you?

No, sir.

We're from Frauds Division, Bunko Section, LAPD.

Oh, I thought at last Fremont was gonna make good

and pick up the books.

- What books? - NALE Notes,

like that magazine you've got there.

I'm holding 1,500 copies in the back.

Well, what do you men want?

We want Captain Fremont, Mr. Cabo.

Oh, so do I, but why do you come to me?

Well, you printed this, didn't you?

Yes, sir, three issues.

He paid cash for the first one,

then he gave me a check for the second one.

Just a moment, I'll show you.

A rubber check for $750 that bounced 750 feet.

I'm still waiting for him to make good on this

before he gets that third issue out there.

Well, this is dated last August.

Well, Fremont said he'd make it good,

so I went ahead and ran off the third issue,

but he never came back for it.

Did you attempt to contact him?

A man doesn't like to bother the police.

I know you're busy people.

Did you also print the cards?

Cards?

The NALE courtesy cards.

No, just the book, 500 copies of the first issue,

1,000, then 1,500 this last one.

Well, did you do business with Fremont direct?

Yes, sir.

Could you describe him for us?

Oh, he's a man about 45, 50 years,

around 6 foot tall, bald head.

He looks like a police chief or an Army officer.

Well, isn't that him?

We don't know. We've never seen him.

Really? He seems to be a nice guy.

- You'd like him. - I doubt it.

11:12 a.m.

We drove to the West Valley address

Captain Fremont had given Mr. Cabo as his residence,

18865 Willa Vista Way. It was an empty lot.

Monday, November 19th, 8:50 a.m.

The weather turned cool over the weekend.

I'd gotten a flat tire on the way in

and had to change wheels.

Bill was at work on time.

Good afternoon, Sergeant. Glad you could drop in.

You ever change a tire on a freeway at rush hour?

- I'm lucky to be alive. - Keep your coat on.

The freeway's gonna get another crack at you.

Yeah? What's this?

A new NALE member just called in.

9:10 a.m. Freeway traffic was still heavy,

as we headed for the Crest Retirement Home in Hollywood.

Mrs. Jennifer Salt was the name

of the NALE contributor who had telephoned.

She mentioned that she was 68 years old.

Are you Mrs. Salt?

Yes.

We're police officers, ma'am.

This is Bill Gannon. My name's Friday.

Are you men from NALE?

No, ma'am. We're from the Los Angeles Police Department.

You spoke to me over the phone a little while ago.

Oh, yes. For a moment, I had hopes.

You had hopes?

Poor Victor. I'm the only one he has left.

- And who's that, ma'am? - My grandson Victor.

Everyone else has forgotten him, except me.

We write to each other constantly.

You see, he depends upon me, but it's so difficult for me

to accomplish anything by myself these days.

That's why I was so pleased

to purchase an ad in the NALE Monthly.

Do you have a copy of the magazine, Mrs. Salt?

No, I never received it,

but periodicals do get misplaced in the mails.

How much did your ad cost you, ma'am?

$350 for the entire back cover.

And were you given a receipt?

Oh, yes. I have it here.

Thank you.

How did this Sgt. Preston Densmore contact you?

I was here in the lobby

the day he came to sell the rest home an ad.

Did the rest home buy an ad?

No, I was the only one here who did.

Well, now, did this Sergeant Densmore

give you a courtesy card?

Oh, yes. That was why I purchased the ad.

I wonder if we could see the card, ma'am.

Well, I'm sorry. You must've misunderstood.

The card wasn't for me. It was for Victor.

I took the ad out in his name.

Does Victor have the card now, Mrs. Salt?

Oh, yes.

Sergeant Densmore assured me

that if Victor presented the NALE card to the authorities,

they would extend him extra privileges.

Well, what do you mean, privileges?

Victor's at Chino. He's in prison.

10:05 a.m. After leaving Mrs. Salt,

we received a radio communication informing us

that an Officer Reed from Central Division

was waiting to talk to us.

The message was that it was urgent.

We rushed back to the office.

This is Bart Emerson, Sergeant.

I pulled him over at Fifth and Grand for running a light.

He tore up the ticket, so I brought him in.

I feel like a fool, Sergeant.

I was told I could tear up that ticket.

And I explained that NALE card's no good.

How'd you get the card, Mr. Emerson?

From Sergeant Densmore.

I took out this ad in the book.

Mr. Emerson says he has an appointment

with this Sergeant Densmore today.

- How's that? - He's coming to my place

to pick up a check for another ad.

- Yeah? What time? - 11:00, 11:15.

Where is your place of business, Mr. Emerson?

I subcontract a fleet of skip loaders.

We're on that job out at Lankershim,

and I keep a temporary office there.

If you don't need me anymore, Sergeant,

I'd better get back on the air.

Right. Thanks, Reed.

You know something, Sergeant?

What's that?

I feel like an idiot.

After briefing Emerson

on the procedure we wanted to follow, he left.

30 minutes later, dressed in soft clothes,

we drove out to his jobsite.

Bill would pose as a construction workman

to witness the conversation I hoped to have

with Sgt. Preston C. Densmore when he arrived.

11:30 a.m. We'd been waiting for the suspect

for almost an hour.

11:34 a.m. A '67 beige Chrysler convertible

pulled up outside the construction shack.

Our plan went into effect as soon as he stepped inside.

Howdy, Emerson!

Hi, Sergeant.

I've got to run over the hill.

Some of my equipment's loused up.

This is Joe Frasier here, a friend of mine.

He'll keep you company till I get back.

Howdy, Joe!

Joe, this is Sergeant Densmore I was telling you about.

Oh, yeah. You're with the L.A. police.

- Is that right? - That's right, partner!

I'll stay by the phone, in case that Pacoima job calls.

Yeah, tell them I'll be over there about noon.

All right, boss.

Stick around, Sergeant. I'll be right back.

Talk to Joe here.

He's helping with the heavy equipment on this job.

So, you're helping with the big stuff, huh, partner?

That's right.

Are you the officer that gave Emerson that card?

You mean, the NALE courtesy card.

Is that what you call it?

Yeah. I'll show you one.

That's my Department ID, and that's the NALE card,

National Association for Law Enforcement.

We all belong to it.

You know, I wouldn't mind having one of those myself,

if they work the way Emerson says they do.

The boss says they work great.

Of course they do, partner!

We in police work have reciprocal agreements all over the nation.

Wherever you go, friends of NALE

are treated with big courtesy.

How do I go about getting the card?

Well, just by cooperating with our organization.

Well, how's that?

By advertising in our magazine.

NALE Notes. It's a national periodical.

Circulated to and read by every peace officer in the nation.

Must be a big magazine.

It's one of the advantages of advertising, partner.

Our circulation is looking

right at a quarter of a million a month.

You print that many, do you?

Oh, you bet ya.

The magazine is the only source of revenue

for our Widows and Orphans Fund.

You mean, the money from the ads.

Your ad is a contribution to help support widows

and orphans of all police officers

who gave their lives in the line of duty.

Yeah, that's all right. How much does an ad cost?

That's up to you, partner.

The smallest ad is $20, full page is 250,

and the back cover is 350.

Well, how much do I have to pop for

to get one of those cards?

As a friend of the police, we measure your sincerity,

not your wallet, partner.

Just keep in mind that all contributions to NALE

go to our widows and orphans.

Now, what should we write you up for?

Full page?

Well, let's see, I've got about 220 bucks on me.

Well, that's fine. There's a discount for cash.

You get 30 bucks off on the full page.

Now, what do you want to say in your ad?

Oh, how about just "Good luck from a friend"?

Well, now, that's real nice, partner.

You are a sincere friend of the police.

Here's your receipt.

Thank you.

Okay, what about the NALE card?

Coming right up, signed by Captain Fremont himself.

You just fill in your own name here on this line.

Okay.

Now the money, partner.

All right. There you go.

Thank you very much.

Police officers, Densmore.

You're under arrest for attempted grand theft bunko.

Oh, boy! Oh, boy!

- I knew it. - Knew what?

A bust was brewing.

Sooner or later, I had to get clobbered.

It's our duty to advise you

that you have the right to remain silent.

You have the right to the presence of an attorney.

If you desire one and cannot afford an attorney,

one will be appointed before any questioning.

- Do you understand that? - I've heard it before.

Do you understand it, fella?

Yeah. Now, don't get uptight, partner.

I'm just small potatoes,

but I'll take you to the big man,

if you treat me nice.

You know better than that, Densmore.

Oh, all I've got's ten percent of the action!

Give me a break.

Sure, just like you give people

with this cheap sleazy con of yours.

It wasn't my idea!

Yeah, sure.

Now, now, listen, boys. You treat me right,

and I can take you to the boiler room right now.

You can toss a net on Fremont and the whole operation.

It's his bit, not mine!

No deal, Densmore.

You're gonna settle for one stinkin' card,

when I'm offering to stack the whole deck for ya?

If we have to.

But if you want to level, we'll go this far.

When you come up for sentencing,

we'll get a letter to the judge explaining what you did,

if you'll do anything, and if you helped.

We can't guarantee how it'll effect his decision.

Now, that's all we'll do, Densmore.

Clear?

As glass, partner.

12:15 p.m. We drove the suspect

to an old rundown house at 6020 North Adams Avenue

in West Los Angeles.

Densmore took us into the living room,

where telephone solicitors were busily at work.

Mr. Goldring, this is Captain Fremont

of the Los Angeles Police.

No, nothing's wrong, sir,

but it'll pay you to listen to what I have to say.

Is he Fremont?

In here, everybody's Fremont, but that's himself.

Can just anybody walk in here?

Well, with a key, yeah.

The old hands are always bringing in new faces.

Most phone hustlers are floaters.

They work a few hours and drift out.

We're too many short now.

Hey, Paul, you got a minute?

These men want on?

Yeah. Are you Fremont?

That's right, but on the horns,

you're Captain Fremont. Ever work a boiler room before?

San Francisco, Seattle, Chicago.

- You? - Worked with him in Frisco.

Mm, good voices, both of you.

Okay, I pay 3 bucks an hour

and 5% of all the action

Densmore closes for you.

Grab yourselves a line and start getting rich.

- What's this? - Prospects.

Give me a couple of those sheets, will ya?

Before you crank up your first one, study this pitch.

We read this.

Any objections?

No.

I get a kick out of you drifters.

You come into an operation cold

and think you can handle it right away.

Took me a long time to work up that sheet,

and it's a winner, so stick with it word-for-word

until you start swinging with the idea.

When you think you're ready,

I'll monitor your first couple of pitches.

Got it?

Police officers, you're under arrest for grand theft.

All of you, cradle those phones!

Line up over here! Get those hands behind your head!

Hold it, Mister!

Don't make me stop you the hard way!

What do you think you're doing?

You can't bust me like this.

I'll call another unit.

Not on my phone, you don't!

Those phones cost money, boy!

Here's two bits.

Keep the change for your Widows and Orphans Fund.

The suspects were found guilty of grand theft.

Grand theft is punishable by imprisonment in the county jail

for not more than one year, or in the state prison

for not more than ten years.

The other suspects were tried

and found guilty of impersonating police officers

and of the sale of membership cards

in a false police organization.

The maximum penalty for such offenses

is a fine of $1,000 or imprisonment for one year,

or both.