Original subtitles

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.