Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dutch
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Indonesian
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Japanese
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranî)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
This is the city— Los Angeles, California.
It's a fine place to enjoy life.
There are places reserved just for kids when they're young and feel young.
Places they go when they're young and feel old,
beginning the big search for something that often
doesn't exist in the places they look for it.
They might find it here.
Or here.
Or maybe here.
They could try looking here.
Their search might end with a college degree.
One thing's sure. Whatever they're looking for...
cannot be found inside a number five capsule.
When they try, that's where I come in. I carry a badge.
It was Tuesday, March 15. It was fair in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out of Juvenile Narcotics.
My partner's Bill Gannon. The boss is Captain Richey.
My name's Friday.
A powerful new drug, capable of producing weird and dangerous hallucinations,
had found its way onto the streets of the city.
It had fallen into the hands of juvenile experimenters.
We had to try and stop it.
The story you are about to see is true.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Better get over there in a hurry. Right, Skipper.
Woman who phoned in the complaint said he was painted up like an Indian. Yeah?
Said she never saw a kid do what he was doing. What's that, Skipper?
Chewing the bark off a tree.
2:08 p.m. Bill and I left Georgia Street Juvenile...
and headed for 1200 Loma Linda A venue.
It was eight blocks from the office.
It took us four and a half minutes to reach the vacant lot...
where the strange-behaving juvenile was reported to have been seen.
Stand still. Reality, man. Reality.
I could see the center of the Earth.
Purple flame down there. The pilot light. All the way down.
Purple flame down there and the pilot light.
- Pilot light of all creation and reality. - He's clean, Joe, except for these.
- Reality. - What's your name, son?
You can see my name if you look hard enough.
- Come on now. What's your name? - Don't you know my name?
- My name is Blue Boy! - What do you think, Joe? Cartwheels?
Those sugar cubes—I'll make you book he's been
dropping that acid we've been hearing about.
All right, son. You're under arrest.
It's our duty to advise you of your constitutional rights.
You have the right to remain silent, and any statement
you make may be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to the presence of an attorney.
If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed
before any questioning. Do you understand that?
There I am. I'm over there now. I'm not here anymore.
- My hair is green. I'm a tree. - You ever seen anybody this torn up?
- It's a cinch he's not strung out on sugar cubes. - Yeah.
- All right. Let's take him to Central Receiving. - Come on, son.
Even if your body does die, your mind will live on.
- Yeah, we know. Come on. - You're the dirty disbelievers.
The evil disbelievers!
Evil! Evil! Evil!
All right. Come on, son! Settle down!
Brown. Blue. Yellow. Green.
Green. Orange. Red. Red-Red. Red. I can hear them. I can hear them all.
Yeah, sure you can, kid. Let's go back to the office. We'll all listen.
2:20 p.m. We took the subject to Central Receiving Hospital.
The examining doctor pronounced him under the influence of an unknown drug.
3:00 p.m. We drove back to Juvenile Division.
We took the subject upstairs to the Narcotics Unit.
He appeared to be a little calmer, but it was impossible to tell...
if the effects of the drug were substantially wearing off.
He would not tell us what drug he had taken.
He still refused to give us his name. We filled Captain Richey in...
and once again we advised the subject of his constitutional rights.
I know my rights, man! I don't want a lawyer, and I don't need a lawyer!
- There's no law against what I did. - There's a law against taking drugs.
Not my kind, man. Not my kind.
You're pretty high and far out, aren't you? What kind of kick are you on, son?
- Ah, it's weird. - What about these?
- Those are keys to the kingdom. - Anything special about these cubes?
I'm on the train. I'm on the train.
I'm on the train. I'm on the train. I'm on the train. We're crossing over.
We're crossing over. We're crossing over. We're crossing over on the train.
On the train. On the train. The train. The train.
The train. The train. The train. The train.
The train. The train. The train. The train.
The train. The train. The train. The train.
Whooooo!
Now you stay put in that chair! I am the chair.
I am the chair. I am the chair.
I am the chair. I am the chair. I am the chair. I am the chair.
I am the chair. I am the chair.
Get those sugar cubes down to the crime lab.
Bill and I took the sugar cubes found on the subject...
to the Scientific Investigation Division located
in the police building in downtown Los Angeles.
We talked to forensic chemist Ray Murray.
We filled him in on the subject's appearance and his behavior pattern.
Tell us about the stuff, Ray.
Visual distortions. Strangely disoriented.
It's a relatively new drug, developed in Switzerland virtually by accident.
A Swiss biochemist by the name of Hoffman came up with the drug in 1938. Yeah.
Lysergic acid diethylamide tartrate, L.S.D.-25.
- What's it look like, Ray? - L.S.D.'s odorless, colorless, tasteless.
Comes in two forms— Liquid and powder.
I'll run these sugar cubes through, but I can tell you right now they contain L.S.D.
Narcotics Division has handled a couple of cases like yours in the past few weeks.
Even had one where they put the stuff on the backs of postage stamps.
- Is it habit-forming? - It's new, Bill.
We can't be sure about physical addiction, but one thing we're certain of.
- Yeah? - In every case so far,
every one of the individuals has had a psychological dependence on it.
You tell me, which is worse? Are the effects recurrent, would you know?
Definitely a transient recurrence, from what we've seen so far.
User over in the county jail. Been there six months.
Two days ago, the man showed most of the symptoms...
- of having just had a fresh shot of the stuff. - Hard to believe.
Unlike heroin, which slows down metabolism,
or alcohol, which is a depressant,
the users of L.S.D. have the mistaken idea that
it activates them, quickens their mental lives.
Yeah, like painting yourself up like an Indian,
trying to chew the bark off a tree, burying your head in a hole.
Users believe they're turning into monsters.
They want to destroy themselves, yet have no urge to commit suicide.
They experience the vilest of garish, frightening hallucinations.
They suffer extreme nausea, severe vomiting, aches and pains.
- Anxiety, panic, depression. - Sounds like it's gonna be a big problem.
If it isn't, it'll do till one comes along.
Joe, Bill, the real issue here is the degree of danger...
this drug presents to the psychological health of the user,
along with the resultant effect to the user and those around him.
And as of now, there's no law covering the sale and use of L.S.D.
From the number of cases coming through this lab,
I'd say they better give you people something to work with damn soon.
4:00 p.m. Bill and I left the crime
lab and headed back toward Georgia Street Juvenile.
Before we left him, Ray Murray filled us in on more facts and figures.
A kilo of L.S.D., two and two-tenths pounds,
can be divided into five million to 10 million doses.
Murray also gave us one last frightening fact:
L.S.D. is so potent that a single pound of the preparation...
could turn every person in Los Angeles County into a total psychotic.
The population of the county: seven million people.
It was 4:15 p.m. when we arrived back at Juvenile Division.
What'd you find out? Well, according to Murray, the Carver boy's on L.S.D.
Figured sooner or later, didn't it? How is it
falling into the hands of youngsters like that boy?
I don't know, Skipper. Stuff's selling for eight to 10 bucks a cap.
Come on in the office. Boy's parents are here, and they're not too happy.
Mr. and Mrs. Carver? Sergeant Friday, Officer Gannon. How are you?
These the two that arrested my boy? That's right, Mr. Carver.
Give me one good reason why. Drug intoxication.
- That's impossible. - We believe it to be a powerful hallucinogen called L.S.D.
You people trying to say my boy's a drug addict?
No, sir, we didn't say he was addicted to the
drug, but he certainly was intoxicated from it.
Now look, I've heard about this L.S.D., and it's
my understanding it hasn't done anybody any harm.
If you could've seen your boy a couple of hours ago, I doubt you'd feel that way.
He always go around painted up like that— Half his face blue, half yellow?
I thought you men were supposed to be experts with young people.
Why, it's probably a high school initiation or something.
The boys are always doing some silly thing or other.
Letting their hair grow long or dressing up like those English singers.
Here, Benjie. Wipe your face and let's go home.
I've got two kids of my own.
I wouldn't want to find either one of 'em in a police station.
But we're holding your boy for his own safety... and maybe the safety of others.
What do you mean? There's no law against what the boy did.
You act like he was taking heroin or smoking marijuana.
You're not putting my boy in any jail. He's not gonna have any police record.
If we can't settle this right now, maybe my attorneys can.
That's your privilege, Mr. Carver, but the boy's gonna be detained at Juvenile Hall.
He'll have a hearing, and the judge will decide.
All right. You insist on doing it the hard way.
I happen to know there's no law against L.S.D.
There's a law against being in a highly intoxicated
state under the influence of any drug or narcotic,
and your boy was and probably still is to some extent.
Nonsense. You're fine, aren't you, Son?
- Just fine, Mom. - There. You can see for yourselves.
- Come on, Benjie. We're taking you home. - Book him for 601.
The subject, Benjamin Carver, was booked...
under Section 601 of the Welfare and Institution Code,
in danger of leading an idle, dissolute or immoral life.
He was being held for his own protection.
Tuesday, May 10, 5:30 p.m.
The subject's case was heard in the Los Angeles County Juvenile Courts Building.
There was no law covering possession of lysergic acid diethylamide.
However, the petition was sustained for 601 W. I. C.
Benjie Carver was placed on probation and released to his parents.
Satisfied, Sherlock?
Thursday, May 12, 3:58 p.m.
Bill and I had been out on a routine follow-up.
When we returned to the squad room, Sergeants Gene Zappey and Dominic Carr...
were questioning two female juveniles.
A policewoman was standing by.
This should interest you.
Girls, this is Sergeant Friday and Officer Bill Gannon.
That's Edna Mae, and that's Sandy.
Tell Sergeant Friday and his partner what you were telling us.
- You mean about our trip? - First tell 'em how old you are.
I'm 15. What are you now? Thirteen?
No, you know I'm 14. I just had my birthday last week.
- Oh, yeah. I forgot. Edna Mae's 14. - Go on, Sandy.
I saw all these weird colors, and then I saw an eye.
You know what I mean? A human eye.
It kept coming closer and closer.
Then all of a sudden, everything started to melt.
You know? Just melt and run down.
The sidewalk melted. The street melted. Just everything!
- L.S.D. - Both of 'em.
Dropped a cap apiece. Paid three bucks for 'em.
- Where'd they get 'em? - Young friend of yours.
Edna Mae, tell Sergeant Friday where you got the caps.
We got 'em from Blue Boy. That's what they call him. Just Blue Boy.
Benjie Carver. And they were capsules, you said?
Yeah. Little white ones.
I think I'm gonna be sick again. Please help me.
Both of 'em were in awful shape a couple hours ago— nausea, vomiting.
It was all right going out on the trip, but coming back's a little rough, isn't it?
Terrible. Just awful. I'm so sick.
My head still aches, and my stomach hurts so much.
Edna Mae, can you read this?
No. No, I can't. It's all swimmy. Everything seems to be moving around.
How long ago did you take the stuff, Edna Mae?
This morning. I forget what time.
Me and Sandy, we ditched school today.
We couldn't have gone anyway after we took it.
Sergeant Carr.
Come on, Edna Mae.
Three bucks a cap.
When it drops to 50 cents, the kids in grammar school
will have themselves a big time at recess, won't they?
Really getting popular. You seen that bus up on the Strip Friday, Saturday nights?
Big sign on it says, "Can you pass the acid test? Pay your dollar and find out."
For a buck, they drive you up to the Hollywood Hills to an acid party.
Before we're through, they'll be listing it in the Yellow Pages.
If we could just nail 'em for possession.
How long does it take to mix a batch of acid? Couple of days?
Yeah, about that.
Takes a little longer to stir up a law, doesn't it?
Wednesday, October 5. Six months went by.
L.S.D. users were increasing at an alarming rate,
particularly among juveniles.
By now, the users had established their own language.
The drug itself was now called "the ticket," "the ghost," "the beast,"
"the chief," "the hawk" or simply "25."
Users now referred to themselves as "acidheads" or "acid freaks."
A "trip" still referred to having taken the drug,
but now more often the words a "bum trip" and "freak-out" were being heard,
meaning a bad L.S.D. experience.
The pusher, or supplier, became known as the "travel agent."
The acidheads came up with another new wrinkle.
After consuming L.S.D., it requires from 45
minutes to an hour for the drug to take effect.
Most users were now spending this waiting period inhaling marijuana.
9:00 a.m. Bill and I reported in for work as usual.
It was beginning to look like any other Wednesday.
Federal and state. You're in business.
In the California book, you'll find it on page 38,
Division 10.5, Chapter 1, Section 11901.
Lysergic acid diethylamide has now been classified as a dangerous drug.
- When does the law go into effect? - Forty-eight hours.
Monday, October 10, 2:35 p.m.
It had been six months since Bill and I first picked up the subject, Benjie Carver.
During all those months, the name "Blue Boy" kept turning up...
in arrest reports as a major supplier of L.S.D.
We picked this one up in the Third Street Tunnel.
Didn't want to leave. Thought he was a mole.
Holding some acid. Six caps. Name's Teddy Carstairs.
Who's your travel agent, Teddy?
I already told you.
Tell us again. Why?
Now look. We advised you of your rights, and you agreed to talk to us, didn't you?
- Yeah. - Well, talk to us.
- Tell us who you bought your tickets from. - The Blue Boy.
- Are you willing to testify to that? - What's that mean?
- You willing to swear to it in a court of law? - Why not?
- Are you telling us yes? - Well, wouldn't you if you was me?
- How is that? - That stinkin' Blue Boy.
- And I paid good bread for that too. - Yeah?
That freak, he sold me two bum trips.
With the willingness of Teddy
Carstairs to testify against Benjie Carver,
a complaint was issued and a warrant was obtained from the district attorney.
4:30 p.m. We drove up to 1 7 Eagle Crest Drive, Benjie Carver's home.
His mother told us he had moved out three months ago.
She had no idea where we might locate him.
What's he done this time? Can you tell me?
Yes, ma'am. He's been selling dangerous drugs to a minor.
- You mean another minor, don't you? - No, ma'am. He's 18.
When we find him, he'll be tried as an adult. That's the law in this state.
I see. I don't suppose I have to tell you two men...
my husband and I both owe you an apology.
That's all right, ma'am. We understand.
I—I wonder if you'd do me a favor when you find him.
- What's that, Mrs. Carver? - Tell him we still love him.
Before we left, we asked Mrs. Carver if we could check the house.
She was cooperative and agreed. Bill and I searched the premises. We found nothing.
Friday, December 9, 8:30 p.m.
We figured the Sunset Strip might be a good place to dig up a lead.
Since the warrant on Benjie Carver was registered and in the hands of all units,
we hoped it wouldn't be too long before the suspect was picked up.
The parade of teenagers begins at Laurel Canyon and Sunset...
and ends at Doheny.
On Friday and Saturday nights, for most of the young people in the city,
the Strip had become the "in" place to go.
It had also become the scene of teenage riots.
8:45 p.m. Bill and I showed Benjie Carver's mug shots...
to the sheriff's deputies who patrol the Sunset Strip.
8:53 p.m. A couple of them thought they recognized him, but they weren't sure.
Sergeant Friday!
Sandy. Edna Mae. What's happening?
Nothing much. Been behaving yourselves?
Haven't touched any more of that acid. That's for sure.
We were invited to an acid party tonight. We told him no. We're on our way home.
- You told who no? - Blue Boy. He asked us.
- You have the address? - Yeah, someplace.
It's supposed to be up in the hills somewhere.
You gonna break up the party?
About time somebody tried, don't you think?
10:18 p.m. Bill and I drove
up to the address given us by the two girls.
It was in the Hollywood Hills. It was an old house that had seen better days.
They must be way out to leave the door unlocked.
That's weed.
♪♪
♪♪
♪♪
♪♪
Look at that, Joe.
Enough acid there to turn 'em on for years.
Must be at least a hundred caps.
Marijuana.
Hey, man, who turned on the sun?
All right, hold it down! Quiet! Police officers! You're under arrest!
Hold it! Stay right where you are! Freeze!
All of you, keep your hands in plain sight. You, on your feet. Come on.
All right! Now sober up and try to listen to this.
It's our duty to advise you of your constitutional rights.
You have the right to remain silent,
and any statement you make may be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to the presence of an attorney.
If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed before any questioning.
Now, do you understand that? I do, man. I understand it.
I'm the one you want to talk to, 'cause I sure understand it.
Well, fine. Suppose you climb down off of there and come over here and talk to me.
- Talk to me about Blue Boy. - He swooped the scene, man.
Is he coming back? No, man.
Dig this "C" table? We're in power.
Suppose you go over there and sit down.
Bill, I'll call the office, get a couple of black-and-whites up here to take 'em in.
Right.
You're not gonna search me. No, but a policewoman will.
What's that address?
Keep your nose out of my purse!
Keep yours out of the acid, and next time I will.
Right. I got it. Thanks. Bill.
Call came in to the office an hour ago. Drugstore over on Vermont.
They did a little business with a guy who fits the description of the Carver boy.
- What kind of business? - Three thousand empty number five caps.
Before we left the house, we arranged for a stakeout...
in the event the Carver boy should return.
1 1:40 p.m. It took us 12 minutes to get to the Apex Pharmacy at Vermont and Wilcox.
The pharmacist's name was Ben Riddle. We showed him a group of mug shots.
Oh, here's the fellow right here. Yeah, that's him all right.
Benjie Carver.
Here's the address where we delivered the capsules. Just a few blocks from here.
Thanks, Mr. Riddle. You've been a big help.
What do you fellows figure he's gonna put in all those empty capsules?
A lot of misery.
It was midnight when we
arrived at the Macon Apartments on West Beverly.
We got the manager out of bed.
That's right. Benjie Carver. He's in the apartment over there. 107.
He in now, would you know? I should say so.
I was going to call you people until they quieted down about an hour ago.
They? That's right.
Sounds to me as though he's got another boy in there with him,
and the two of them were really whooping it up.
I see. Do you have a passkey we could borrow?
Yes, I do. Here. This one'll do. Thank you very much.
You're welcome. I'll cover the window, Joe.
Right.
Police officer. What's your name? Philip Jameson.
How old are ya? Eighteen.
Poor Benjie.
Look at him. What's the matter with him?
He's been like that for over an hour.
He had some kind of a fit, and then he got quiet.
Look at this, Joe. Acid, reds, yellows, rainbows.
Those are Benjie's. He's been taking 'em all day.
Just kept saying he wanted to get further out.
Further out. Further out.
Just kept saying he wanted to get further out.
Well, he made it. He's dead.
The story you have just seen is true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On December 15, a coroner's inquest...
was held at the County Morgue,
Hall of Justice, City and County of Los Angeles.
In a moment, the results of that inquest.
A t the inquest, the coroner's jury ruled that the 18-year-old suspect...
had administered himself an overdose of lysergic acid diethylamide...
in combination with various barbiturates, and had thus taken his own life.
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.