All language subtitles for Dragnet S01E05

This is the city, Los
Angeles California.

Two and one-half
million people live here.

Every month,
5,000 more crowd in.

Tourists spend over
a billion, one hundred

million dollars a year
in Southern California.

It's a big business.

On Olvera Street,
you can buy the best

Mexican handcrafts
this side of Mexico City.

Anything you’re looking
for, Los Angeles has it.

If it’s for sale,
you can buy it.

Some people don't
bother bringing money.

They do their shopping
at the point of a gun.

That's when I come
in. I carry a badge.

It was Tuesday, June 14.
It was clear in Los Angeles.

We were working the day
watch out of Robbery Division.

My partner's Bill Gannon.
The boss is Captain Howe.

My name's Friday.

The Daily Occurrence Report
is a measurement of the city.

It's all there: burglaries,
holdups, murders.

As the city grows,
the report grows.

Part of the extra weight was being
contributed by a gang of armed thieves,

specializing in holding
up cocktail lounges.

The count to date was six.
So far, nobody had been killed.

Number seven
might not be so lucky.

The story you are
about to see is true.

The names have been
changed to protect the innocent.

Bill. Joe. Morning, Skipper.

- How're you coming on
those cocktail lounge 211s?
- Nothing much so far.

M. O. 's always the same. Four men
wearing full-faced, red plastic masks.

Near as we can tell, they haven't hit
anything but cocktail lounges—six so far.

Mostly around the
Highland Park area. Yeah.

- Suspects always drive a red Cadillac.
- Anything else on the car?

No license number, but
they all agree on one thing.

- What's that?
- It's an old model, red convertible.

- Anything show up in the F.I. cards?
- Nothing.

Robbery, Howe.

Yeah. Okay.

Yeah, Lou. All right, thanks.

Maybe they got something
for you over on Georgia Street.

- Yeah, what's that?
- Edwards and Beeson have
a juvenile in custody for G.T.A.

- Picked up last night in Highland Park.
- Yeah?

Says he remembers seeing four men
in an old model, red Cad convertible.

9:32 a.m. Bill and I drove
over to Georgia Juvenile.

The interrogating officers were
Jack Edwards and Frank Beeson.

Edwards told us the boy's
name was Fred Tillar, aged 1 7.

This was his second
offense. He was on probation.

He's a cool one, Joe. He
won't give you much. Yeah.

Copped out on three other
auto thefts. That's all we can get.

Right. Thanks, Jack. Frank. Let
us know when you're through, Joe.

Right.

Got a couple more questions,
son. I already talked to Edwards.

Talk to us. Tell us about the four
men in that Cadillac. What about 'em?

You know 'em? No.

You sure? Edwards asked
me if I ever lifted a Caddy.

Told him he must be kidding.
Man, those things are boats.

Me, I dig Mustangs. They're
really boss. Where'd you see it?

What? The Cadillac.

Where the kids hang out. You
know, at the drive-in. Where's that?

Sixth and Franklin, but you're
wasting your time. Are we?

Sure, nobody'd steal
that Caddy, man. Why not?

Man, who'd want
it? It's a piece of junk.

12:28 p.m. Bill and I

checked out the drive-in
Tillar told us about.

We asked a waitress named
Angie if she had seen a red Cadillac.

Red Caddy? Sure, I
remember it. A couple of

wise kids. Teenagers.
Think they're clever.

Yes, ma'am. Do you
remember their names?

Who remembers names? I wait
on cars, I don't wait on people.

You can spot 'em, you know?
Take a Buick, always good for a tip.

Little foreign cars,
forget it. They stiff

you every time. Can't
get a nickel from 'em.

Yes, ma'am. How many
did you say were in the car?

Two, I think. Yeah, one's a large Coke,
the other one's a milk shake. Yeah, two.

- Could you describe them?
- Oh, no. Kids all look alike.

Like I said, one's a Coke, and the
other one's a milk shake. That's it.

When you took their
order, did they say

anything? Mention a
name? Anything like that?

- One thing, maybe.
- Yes, ma'am?

Well, they were kidding
around, you know, and the

Coke says to the milk
shake, "It's robbery," he says.

"Yeah," he says, "Larry, she sure
robbed the cradle when she married you."

And the milk shake just
laughs. Thought it was real funny.

Larry. Is that the name he used?

Yeah, that's right. Larry.
The Coke was kidding him

about his wife. Claimed she
looked more like his mother.

- Yes, ma'am. Go on.
- And one more thing I remember.

- What's that?
- They didn't leave a tip.

We figured there was
a chance the suspect,

known only as Larry,
could've been in trouble before.

If so, the officers at Juvenile
Division might be able to help us again.

1:33 p.m. We checked back
with Officer Jack Edwards.

Hi, Jack. Friday. Hi, Gannon.

Keeping you busy? All the time.

We're looking for a
kid, first name Larry, no

last name. Chance you
might've handled him?

I might've handled a thousand
Larrys. Yeah, we know, Jack.

We got something that
might help. What's that?

He might be married to an older woman.
Now, does that mean anything to you?

Yeah. Yeah, sure. Larry, uh...

Larry... Hubbert. Sure,
we've handled him before.

Here his package.
County camp graduate.

Kind of a weird setup, Joe.
Larry's 17. Edna—that's the wife...

Gotta be at least 10-12 years
older than him. Anything on her?

- No. Clean as far as we know.
- Got the address, Jack?

Yeah, uh, 8854 Wilton.

Thanks a lot, Jack.
What's Hubbert up to now?

211. We figure three
adults in the gang.

- Kid'll never learn, I guess.
- Well, it might help if he'd do one thing.

- What's that?
- Stick to people his own age.

2:15 p.m. The Wilton Street

address was in an
older section of the city.

It was neat and well-kept, like
the Cadillac parked at the curb.

Without a warrant, we
couldn't shake down the car.

We would have to question Larry
Hubbert first, try to get his permission.

You Larry Hubbert? Yeah.

Police officers. All right if
we come in? You Juvie cops?

Robbery Division. Where's
Edwards? I don't know you guys.

Well, maybe it's time you did,
son. Why don't you come right in?

How come Edwards isn't with
you? I give him all my business.

We're living in the age of specialization,
son. You own that Cadillac parked outside?

Well, yeah— Just stay put. Keep
your hands out of your pockets.

Yeah, that's my car. Neat, isn't it?
You know, I fixed that thing up myself.

What are you guys
looking for? Some answers.

Hey, uh, is it all right if I put
a shirt on? I'm kind of cold.

Where is it? In the bedroom.

We'll both go. Sure.

I'll check the kitchen.

Freeze!

All right, now. You just
stand still and keep those

hands in plain sight
where I can see 'em. Bill!

Get your hands behind your back.

Now, suppose you just sit
down on the end of the bed.

I'll check it
through C.I.I. Right.

All right, son, you're
under arrest. It's my

duty to inform you of
your constitutional rights.

You have the right to
remain silent. 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 desire an attorney
and cannot afford one,

one will be appointed
before any questioning.

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

Do you understand it?
Okay. I understand it.

Where'd you get the
gun? A friend gave it to me.

What friend? Just a guy who
borrows my car once and a while.

He gave it to me to pay for using
the car, that's all. What's his name?

Why should I find out? I can
give you a couple of reasons.

You're on probation. Possession
of a deadly weapon. Is that enough?

It was a gift. Did you
ever point it at anybody?

I told you, the guy gave it to me for
using the car. Tell me so I believe it.

Guy's name was Jones. You wanna
try for Smith or Brown? I want it straight.

I'm leveling with you. Can I help it if the
guy's name is Jones? I met him at work.

Where's that? Burbank.
Phillips Industries.

They make that plastic tile stuff,
you know, that they glue on counters?

This Jones, he work there too,
does he? Yeah. Then he quit.

What'd you do, retire?
No. I'm sick today.

Oh, sure you are. Who are you?

We're police officers, ma'am.
What are you doing here?

Are you Edna Hubbert?
I'm Mrs. Hubbert, yes.

Is this your husband? Yes. Did you
have to put those handcuffs on him?

He has a gun, ma'am.
It's hot, Joe. One of seven

taken in a 459 from a
sporting goods store last month.

Mm-hmm. Before or after
the red-mask holdups? Before.

All right, son. Tell me where you got
that gun. What's this about a red mask?

She doesn't know
anything. Six cocktail lounges

were held up, all by four
men wearing red masks.

They drove a car like
Larry's, and Larry has a gun.

What'd he tell you? Back
out of this, Edna, will you?

She doesn't know
anything. Honest. Sergeant?

Yes, ma'am? Could I
talk to you alone a minute?

Yes, ma'am.

I, uh—I don't want Larry to hear this.
He doesn't like his wife to interfere.

- I understand, ma'am.
- I don't think Larry did this,
whatever you said he did.

- We have to check it out, ma'am.
- But even if he did,
it's not his fault, you know.

- I'm the one should be arrested.
- How's that?

Well, I work nights... cashier in a
coffee shop, and there's nobody.

- Nobody?
- Well, there's nobody to
look after him while I'm out.

Well, now, looks to me like
he can take care of himself.

- But he's only a boy.
- Well, I guess you know that
better than I do, ma'am.

- You disapprove of me, don't you?
- Should I?

- You're like everybody else.
- How's that?

I can hear 'em when I
come home. Whispering and

pointing fingers and
laughing behind my back.

They think it's funny.
I'm not ashamed.

Why shouldn't I have
what everybody else has

got? A little happiness.
That's all I want.

Yes, ma'am. He's better
off with me, you know.

It's a nice home. It's
clean. Nice things.

- He wouldn't have it if it wasn't for me.
- Yes, ma'am.

Guess you think all he sees in
me is somebody to pay the bills.

- No, ma'am.
- I'm only 29.

Well, I'm not so old.

Maybe I'm not so pretty, but, well,
he could've had his pick. I know that.

They make it easy for
him. Who's that, ma'am?

Birds, he calls 'em.
The teenage girls.

You know, short skirts
and showing everything?

Stand around on corners,
making eyes. The delinquents.

- Well, that's what they are, you know.
- I wouldn't know, ma'am.

- Larry used to be.
- Used to be what?

A delinquent. He was
always getting into trouble.

But nobody wanted him,
you see? Nobody. He'd

still be on the street
if it wasn't for me.

- Is that so?
- I rescued him.

You-You see these books?

They're his. He's
very intelligent.

He goes to the library.
Has a card and everything.

We read a lot,
you know, together.

- Well, that's better, isn't it?
- Better than what?

- Than being alone?
- Yes, ma'am.

- Sergeant?
- Yes, ma'am?

I don't know where his parents
are. Does that make a difference?

Well, I wouldn't know, ma'am.

Larry won't let me contact them.

Know what I think? What's that?

I think he's ashamed.
They're poor people, you know.

- They're, well, not used to nice things.
- I see.

Well, that makes me his guardian,
doesn't it? I mean, being his wife?

No. I doubt that, ma'am.

But, as his wife, it's my duty to
inform you of your constitutional rights.

Now, both you and Larry
have the right to remain silent.

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 desire an attorney
and can't afford one,

one will be appointed
before any questioning.

- Do you understand that, ma'am?
- Yes.

Found it in the closet, Joe.

Sergeant, did you mean
what you said before?

What's that, ma'am? About if
I couldn't afford an attorney?

Yes, ma'am.

I guess maybe we need one.

3:48 p.m. We returned to
Georgia Juvenile with the suspect.

Although we had decided not to detain Mrs.
Hubbert, she insisted on coming anyway.

Mrs. Hubbert called the public defender's
office to arrange for an attorney.

Bill and I took the subject
to the Juvenile squad

room. We turned Hubbert
over to Jack Edwards...

to be booked under
Section 602 of the Welfare

and Institutions Code
for a 2 1 1 P. C., Robbery.

Since further interrogation
of Larry Hubbert

would have to await
the arrival of an attorney,

we decided to check out
the one lead he had given us.

Without a first name on Jones,
we couldn't run it through R&I.

But we figured that Phillips Industries,
the place Hubbert claimed he met Jones,

would be the best
place to check it out.

4:15 p.m. Because of
the outbound commuter

traffic, it took us 20
minutes to get to Burbank.

Phillips Industries was a medium-sized,
combination plant-and-showroom operation.

The personnel manager,
Mr. Bernard Ashton,

told us they employed
about a hundred people.

He didn't remember
either Hubbert or Jones.

We get a lot of transients,
you know. They think

the grass is always
greener down the street.

Most of our people have been with us
10, 12 years though. Good, solid people.

- Yes, sir.
- Larry Hubbert, good, solid lad.

- It's a shame though.
- How's that?

He missed four or five
days’ work last month.

Keeps that up, I'll
have to let him go.

- Yes, sir.
- Oh, that Jones fella,
what's his first name?

We don't know, sir.
We'd like you to tell us.

I got three here. Uh, "Jones, Robert
M." He's been with us for eight years.

"Jones, James A." A little short
fella. He does finishing work.

Has a way about him,
you know? He jokes a lot.

"Jones, Donald R."
Huh, that's interesting.

- What's that?
- This fella left us five or six weeks ago.

Now, that's real
funny. What's that, sir?

His closing check. He
never came back to get it.

With Jones's address
provided by Ashton,

we arranged for the nearest black-and-white
unit to try and pick him up immediately.

The black-and-white unit reported
that Jones was not at home.

We asked that another Robbery Division
unit stake out the apartment house...

while we returned to P.A. B.
To check Jones through R&I.

We ran the name "Donald
R. Jones" through R&I.

He had done time at San
Quentin for armed robbery.

He was out on parole.
He had not checked with

Al Tucker, his parole
officer, for six weeks.

It looked like he had
gone back to his old habits.

With the stakeout on Jones's apartment,
we decided to return to Georgia Juvenile.

6:12 p.m. This is my
attorney, Mr. Auerbach.

How do you do, sir? This is
Bill Gannon. How are you?

Joe Friday. Glad to know you. I've
talked to the boy. Do you wanna fill me in?

We're holding him under
W.I.C. 602, 211 P.C., Robbery.

- On what grounds?
- Gang always wore full-face,
plastic red masks. He had one.

He was also in
possession of a stolen gun.

They can't keep him in jail,
can they? A 17-year-old boy?

- That's the best thing
he's got going for him, Mrs. Hubbert.
- What's that?

His age, being 1 7. You see,
juvenile law in California...

is based on a concept of correction
and rehabilitation, not punishment.

I've talked to him. He
knows he can remain silent.

But after a hearing,
it could influence a

judge to declare Larry
unfit as a juvenile...

and remand him
for trial as an adult.

The judge might have
a lot in favor of that

argument. Larry has a
record. He's on probation.

He's married. He's
functioning as an adult.

I think the police would
have to come up with

more evidence to convict
him for armed robbery.

But if they've got what
Gannon here says they've got,

there's a good chance they could
put Larry away for a while right now.

Now, if Larry were to
make a clean breast of it, the

judge might view that as
an indication of repentance.

It could make it easier on him.
That's just my opinion, you understand?

You want Larry to confess.
Is that what you want?

No. That's up to Larry. I
told him what I'm telling you.

- He wanted to know what you thought.
- What'd you tell him?

I just told you. If he's
innocent, he has nothing to hide.

If he's guilty, I'd advise him to admit
his guilt. It's to his benefit to do so.

It's not fair, Mr. Auerbach.
It's not fair at all.

Mrs. Hubbert, I just explain
the way the law works.

It really doesn't make any difference,
does it? Whether he confesses or not?

- How's that, ma'am?
- Well, they'll take him away from me.

I lose either way, don't I?

6:43 p.m. Acting on the
advice of his attorney,

Larry Hubbert made
a full confession.

He implicated Donald Jones as the
leader and named two other accomplices.

We put out an A. P. B.
To have them picked up.

Under California law, the
confession of an accomplice

without corroboration, is
never sufficient to convict.

The red masks Hubbert
and the others wore,

prevented positive
identification by their victims.

Unless they all confessed, we felt
we didn't have enough to take to court.

7:20 p.m. We returned to
Jones's apartment house and

checked in with the team on
stakeout, Chitwood and Emlet.

They had nothing to report.
No sign of the suspect.

They drove around to
the rear of the building

to relieve the team
on stakeout in the alley.

7:44 p.m.

Police officers. Stand still. Open that
box, you're a dead man. Put it down. Now!

Keep those hands out
of your pockets, lady.

Would somebody tell me what
this is all about? You just stay quiet.

You're under arrest.
For what, illegal parking?

Just shut up and listen,
both of you. It's my

duty to advise you of
your constitutional rights.

You have the right to
remain silent. 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 desire an attorney
and can't afford one,

one will be appointed
before any questioning.

- Yeah, you finished?
- Do you understand that, Jones?

- Yeah.
- You?

- She understands it.
- Do you?

Yes.

- These belong to you, lady?
- She's a collector.

He gimme the case. I
didn't know what was in it.

Why'd you carry it?

It was pretty. Real talent,
huh? All body, no brain.

Good thing for you
I'm slow. Is that right?

- Little faster, you'd know how dead feels.
- Well, now, what else
would you like to tell us?

That's it, cop. You
heard it from me.

Hang on to 'em. We'll
shake the apartment.

What are you looking for,
cop? My little black book?

We'll settle for a red mask.

The shakedown of Jones's apartment
gave us nothing more to go on.

He refused to talk, and under
the law, we could go no further.

We took him
downtown to be booked.

The guns we found in
the girl's makeup kit...

were taken in the same 459 as
the gun we took from Larry Hubbert.

We knew we had
Jones for parole violation.

We wanted him and the other two members
of the gang for the red mask holdups.

9:15 p.m. Boy, I got
that migraine again.

Yeah? What time
did we have lunch?

We didn't. We didn't?

No. You hungry?

I could eat. Me too.

Maybe I oughta call
Tuck. Jones's P.O.?

Yeah. Figure he
can get him to talk?

Might be worth a try.

9:45 p.m. Bill picked
up a sandwich,

and I went back to the squad
room to wait for Al Tucker.

He'd been working late.
I filled him in while Bill

waited in the interrogation
room with the suspect.

Parole officers are a special breed:
half policeman, half social worker.

They have to take
the rejects of society

and try to make decent
citizens out of them.

It's a tough job. Tougher because
there's not enough of 'em to go around.

Most ex-convicts have a lot of
respect for their parole officers.

They get close. They have to. Their parole
officer has to approve almost everything.

Where they live. Where they work.
What time they get home at night.

Jones was no exception.

I blew it, huh? All the way.

You quit your job. You moved. You
didn't check in. Here you are again.

I thought you were squaring,
Don? I got bored with making tile.

What'd you have? Nine months,
10 months out of the joint?

Things were going sweet
till these guys showed up.

You wanna tell me
about it? In front of them?

Look, Tucker, I got the right to
stay silent and I'm staying silent.

Wait for you outside,
Tuck. All right.

Now, look, Don, this sort of an
attitude isn't going to get you anywhere.

You wanna bite?

No, thanks. You sure?

Sure. Corned beef, imported Swiss,
lettuce, Russian dressing, coleslaw,

kosher pickle, slice of
tomato, mayonnaise, peanut

butter, horseradish
and a little hot mustard.

No, thanks. Sure, now?
It's an awful good sandwich.

Sounds like a seven-course
meal. Well, it's a little filling.

You think he'll cop out to Tuck?
Save an awful lot of time if he does.

He'll talk to you now.
What'd you do, Tuck?

Nothing any other parole
officer couldn't do. What's that?

Well, Jones figures he's bound to go back
to the joint one way or the other. Yeah?

There's more than 200 different prison
jobs they can hand him up there at Quentin.

You remember him saying he
didn't like making tile? Yeah, I do.

Well, he told me he'd
like to try metal work.

I can recommend what job he
gets. I told him I'd see what I could do.

You know, Jones told me something.
I don't know if he'll mention it to you.

It's not really important. Thought
you might want it for your case.

What's that, Tuck? Well, it's about
that kid, that teenager Larry Hubbert?

Oh, yeah. What about
him? Gonna be a father.

Well, I missed dinner. Guess
I'd better be getting on home.

Don't rush off, Tuck.
I got half a sandwich.

Yeah? What's in
it? Oh, you'll love it.

Corned beef, imported
Swiss... Good night, Bill.

Lettuce, Russian
dressing... Tuck, I'll see you.

Coleslaw, kosher
pickle, a slice of tomato...

The story you have
just seen is true.

The names were changed
to protect the innocent.

On September 15,

trial was held in
Department 180,

Superior Court of
the State of California,

in and for the County
of Los Angeles.

In a moment, the
results of that trial.

The suspects were found guilty
on two counts of armed robbery.

Robbery in the first degree is
punishable by imprisonment...

in the state prison for
not less than five years.

After a hearing, the juvenile suspect
was remanded to the custody...

of the California
Youth Authority.