Original subtitles

This is the city— Los Angeles, California.

It's the motion picture capital of the world.

Some come to Los Angeles to see the stars or try to become one.

Others come here and die.

When they go suddenly and with no apparent reason, that's when I go to work.

I carry a badge.

It was Wednesday, April 13. It was warm in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch out of Homicide Division.

The boss is Hugh Brown. My partner is Bill Gannon. My name's Friday.

It was 12:20. I was on my way to lunch.

A man by the name of Alexander Troy wouldn't be eating lunch today.

We'd meet him in 50 minutes, but he wouldn't meet us.

He'd have been dead for at least 10 hours.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Hi, Joe. Hello, Dorothy.

Is that all you're having? Every day. I'm a light eater.

No salt. Some wife. She never puts salt in,

and she knows I can't eat an egg without salt.

I thought you were on a salt-free diet.

- Have an egg, Miller. - No, thanks.

- How 'bout a cookie? - I'm on a sugar-free diet too.

What's the matter? Cafeteria crowded, was it?

A mission of mercy.

Your partner left his lunch on my desk this morning. I hate to eat alone.

Yeah. She is prettier than Petrovich or Higbie at that.

Thanks, friend. Have a cookie.

My daughter made them. Oatmeal and honey.

- Not bad. - If you had a wife, I'd give her the recipe.

Now, that's the biggest incentive I ever

heard for a man to rush out and get married.

Well, he wouldn't have to fight that lunchroom mob every day.

Now, you tell me: Would you let your daughter marry a cop?

- Joe, she's only nine. - I'll wait.

Friday. Gannon. How are things in the business office?

As usual.

- Had your lunch? - Just finishing up.

- Eat it on the way. - What do you got?

- 62-year-old man. - Yeah?

Somebody beat him to death with a hammer.

1:01 p.m. Bill and I drove over to 1 7th Street.

We turned north and headed for the 800 block.

It took us nine minutes to reach the address— a two-story apartment building.

There were six units on each floor. The dead man was in Apartment 201.

Homicide. In there, Sergeant.

All these people live here? Yes, sir.

We'll wanna talk to 'em. Right, Sergeant.

Friday and Gannon, Homicide. Goldman, 1A-12.

Dead man's the manager. Who put in the call?

The old man outside with my partner. Name's Louis Adams.

Must've happened a good 10, 12 hours ago. Rigor's set in. Pretty vicious, Joe.

Yeah. Hammer. Looks like the first two blows did it.

And the last four changed his personality.

Phone in the hall. I'll ask the Skipper to make the notifications.

What's the victim's full name? Alexander Troy.

Did you pick up anything on the name Fred? Not a thing, Sergeant.

Broken piggy bank. Think that could be the motive?

It's been done for less.

Right. Thanks.

I wonder if you people would mind waiting in your

- apartments, please? - All right, folks.

Thank you very much. Latent Prints and photog are on the way.

Right. We're police officers. This is Sergeant Friday. My name's Gannon.

Oh, I'm Mrs. Ridges. I'm up in 304.

I wonder if I could speak to you before you go? Yes, ma'am.

Thank you.

Your name Louis Adams? That's right.

You live in the building, do you?

202.

- You wanna tell us what happened? - Well, about 12:30 maybe, I knocked.

Alex didn't answer, so I called to him.

I know he's gotta be in there.

Every Wednesday, we go to the cemetery. We put flowers on the wives' graves.

- When's the last time you saw Mr. Troy? - Last night.

- Were you in his apartment? - Oh, no, sir. I just seen him here in the hallway.

- What time was that? Do you remember? - Around 6:00 last night.

- Was he alone, or was someone with him? - He was alone.

Him and me, we don't have many friends.

Him, he don't have no friends now.

Did he know anybody named Fred, would you know?

No, sir. Nobody I ever heard him mention.

Did you ever hear him argue with anybody? He ever get into a fight with any tenants?

Maybe somebody behind in their rent, anything like that?

Not Alex. He never threw anybody out that got behind in their rent.

He let 'em stay on. He trusted 'em. And they always paid up too.

All right, sir. Thank you. We'll wanna check back with you.

- Wednesdays are gonna be a lot longer now. - How's that, sir?

There's three graves I got to put flowers on now.

Goldman?

We'll be up in 304. Let us know when that print man and photog get here, will you?

Right, Sergeant.

It's open.

- Mrs. Ridges, you wanted to see us? - Yes.

Uh, will you be taking fingerprints in poor Troy's room?

- Why? - Well, I'm afraid you're going to find Terry's fingerprints all over there.

Terry? Terry Ridges. He's my son. He's 19.

- He was with Troy last night. - What time was that?

10:00, 11:00. I don't know. Something like that.

- Did he play cards with Mr. Troy? - Yes, I guess so.

Troy was a card nut. He'd play cards with anybody.

You or your son happen to know anyone by the name of Fred?

Fred? No, neither one of us.

- Where's your son now, Mrs. Ridges? - He's working.

He's a box boy at the Falcon Market. It's the one on the corner.

You mind if we look around, Mrs. Ridges? No. Go right ahead.

I wasn't expecting company. I guess I should've put that laundry away.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Ridges, this T-shirt— This belonged to your son?

Oh, he spilled something on it. I tried to

wash it off for him— Chocolate or something.

Do you mind if we take it along? Why should I? I know it's chocolate.

We'll leave you one of our cards, Mrs. Ridges.

Officers, would you let me know if it's chocolate or something else? Yes, ma'am.

Either way.

S. I. D. ran Terry Ridges's T-shirt through.

The stain was human blood, type "O." Alexander

Troy, the victim, also had type "O."

You guys know where the murder cops hang out? We're headed there. We'll show you.

I'm lookin' for two fuzz named Friday and Gannon. You found 'em.

Understand you're lookin' for me. We're lookin' for a lot of people.

Ridges is my name. Terry Ridges. Come on.

We wanna ask you a few questions.

That's why I'm here. My old lady told me. Tough. Old man Troy was okay.

In here.

Sit down.

Before we talk, we want to advise you of your constitutional rights.

- I'm a minor, daddy. - Minors have rights too.

Any statement you make to us may be used against you in a court of law.

You have the right to remain silent. 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?

What's the difference? I got nothing to hide.

Do you understand it? Yeah, yeah. I dig. I dig.

What blood type are you?

What am I? A doctor? How should I know? Let's say “hot."

What time was it when you last saw Alexander Troy?

- You wanna know about the blood on my T-shirt, huh? - When'd you last see Troy?

10:30, 11:00, something like that. Me and Chick.

- Chick? - This barber. Lives in the building.

- This fella Chick— What's his full name? - Chick's all I know. Ask him.

Where will we find him? Right downstairs in the lobby.

Chick's full name was

Chesney Guthrie. He was anxious to cooperate.

Terry Ridges waited in the squad room while we talked to him.

We advised Guthrie of his rights. You understand that, Mr. Guthrie?

Yes. Very fair. Very fair.

You're a barber, that right?

Oh, no. I'm a hairstylist. There's a difference.

Now, you go to a barber, but a hairstylist could do wonders for you.

You stay with your barber. Nothing personal.

- Do you know your blood type, Guthrie? - Of course. I'm a frequent donor at the Red Cross.

I'm type "O."

Oh, I see. The blood on Terry's shirt? Yeah, that's mine.

I'm afraid I had a nosebleed last night.

- Do you have nosebleeds often? - No, but then, I don't get hit in the nose often either.

- Who hit you? - Terry. He hit me with a can of hair spray.

My nose started to bleed, and I grabbed him. It must've got on his shirt.

- Why'd he hit you? - It started when I asked him for the money.

- What money? - I style his hair for him, see.

Now, we get $12 for a styling. I offered to style Terry's hair for four.

He agreed. And then after Mr. Troy told him

how nice he looked, we went back to my place.

- What time did you see Troy? - Oh, around 10:30 or so.

Mr. Troy told Terry I'd done a superb job, which I had, of course.

Sure. How long were you in the Troy apartment?

Oh, five, maybe 10 minutes.

- The other man made some nasty remarks about hairstyling. - What other man?

- The one Alex was playing cards with. - What's his name? Do you know?

Oh, I don't recall. He's new in the building.

From back East somewhere, judging from his way of speaking.

All I know is I get the impression he doesn't like me.

So I give him the impression I don't like him.

- Was he still with Troy when you and Terry left? - Yeah. Playing cards.

Terry and I went back up to my place—303 I'm in...

And I was starting to spray his hair when I

reminded him about the four dollars he owed me,

and he got annoyed.

- Anything else you'd like to add? - Well, gentlemen,

if you suspect that Terry had anything to do with Mr. Troy's death...

Believe me, he's a fine young man.

Oh, temper, yeah, but he gets over it right away.

Look, instead of asking him questions, or even me,

for that matter, why don't you talk to the man in 302?

- What man is that? - I just told you.

- Tell us again. - The cocky one from back East that was playing cards with Alex.

He's not nice.

3:55 p.m. We asked Ridges and

Guthrie to keep us advised of their whereabouts.

4:09 p.m. Bill and I arrived back at the scene

of the murder to look for a man named Fred...

in Apartment 302.

The door was slightly ajar.

Looks like he left in a hurry.

Looks like he had a reason.

Well, who are you? We're police officers.

Good. My name's Marcus Denner. I own this building.

Can you give us the name of the tenant in 302? Not offhand, no.

But Troy'll have the name in his rent receipt book.

- Where would that be, sir? - Right down here. Come on.

Hold it a minute before you seal it. Thanks.

He kept it right over here in the bookcase.

You know, I was here just last week picking up the rents. We deal in cash only.

It's a sad thing. A sad thing.

Well, that's gone. I suppose you noticed that.

What's that, sir? The cash box. Couldn't have been very much in it since last week.

Would you know exactly how much? No, but I'll figure it up and give you a call.

Appreciate that. There they are.

Well, that's funny.

Receipt's been torn out.

A check of Apartment 302

revealed a telegram that had been torn to pieces.

From Boston. Addressed to Frederic L. Tosca, Wharf Hotel, San Francisco.

"Remain there. Letter follows. Dad."

I'll get off a radiogram to Boston. I'll call the Wharf Hotel.

Sergeant?

Mrs. Ridges? My car. It's been stolen.

When? All I know is I park it out in front every night,

and I went down this morning and it wasn't there.

It's a red Plymouth Barracuda, license number TVQ553.

What year is the car? 1966.

Does your son ever drive it? Sometimes, but I asked him.

He thought maybe it was the finance company. I'm behind in my payments.

But I called, and it wasn't them. It's been stolen.

I see. Can you get it back?

We'll try.

That's it. We'll be in as soon as we finish up here. Thanks, Ed. Hold on a minute.

Hang on. Hello, Ed? This is Friday. Yeah.

On that A.P.B. on Tosca— He's probably

driving a stolen '66 red Plymouth Barracuda,

Tom-Victor-Queen 553.

You got it? Right. Thanks a lot.

Ridges woman says her car is missing. Outside chance Tosca might've stolen it.

Maybe. There's nothing else here. I told the coroner we'd seal the door.

Excuse me, sirs. Do you know when is Alex's funeral? No, sir. We wouldn't know that.

There's something really important that I got

to tell the mortician. What's that, Mr. Adams?

It's about his wife's wedding ring. He wanted it to be buried with him.

Does the mortician have it? No, sir. We didn't find any jewelry in the room.

Well, he kept it right on the nightstand by his bed.

Could we look, please? Yes, sir. All right.

Can I touch this? Yes, sir. Go right ahead.

Oh, no. It's gone. He always left it right there in plain sight.

Yes, sir. Could you describe the ring for us?

Braided gold with little blue stones.

Who would want to do that? Steal a poor dead man's ring?

What kind of a person would do that? Same kind

who'd beat him to death with a claw hammer.

5:48 p.m. Bill and I returned

to the P.A. B. We had an answer from Boston.

Captain Brown brought in the information that had come in over LETS—

The Law Enforcement Teletype System.

"Subject wanted by authorities in Boston for car

theft, assault and assault with intent to kill.

Frederic L. Tosca, male Caucasian, age 19."

Looks like he might have a traveling companion. Yeah? Who's that?

"Female Caucasian Camille Gearhardt, age 17, reported missing.

Alleged girlfriend of suspect." Here's a rundown on Tosca's record.

He's a real hardnose. Hmm. First arrest— armed robbery—age 12.

- You still got a stakeout on that apartment? - Right, Skipper.

- How 'bout a radiogram on the car? - Went out this afternoon.

Homicide. Friday. I see.

Thank you very much, Mr. Denner. What's th— No, sir. No, not yet.

- The price of life keeps goin' down, doesn't it? - Hmm?

Troy was killed for $6.58.

7:35 p.m. Bill had gone home. I stayed to clean up some paperwork.

It was a warm evening, so I walked across

the street, grabbed a sandwich and went home.

When I got there, the phone was ringing.

The Cottonwood, Arizona Police Department had our suspect in custody.

The Gearhardt girl was being held with him.

10:05 p.m. Extradition papers were made out.

Bill had drawn the necessary expense money for the trip to Cottonwood, Arizona.

We gotta move it if we're gonna catch that 11:00 flight. Yours?

Don't be funny. Dorothy Miller's comin'

along to handle the girl. Where's your gear?

Don't worry. I got it. Where?

You wouldn't catch me carrying one of those spy cases. Where's your gear?

Oh, come on, Joe. Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor,

clean socks, clean underwear, clean shirt.

You could've fooled me. Sure.

You know, Joe, in all the years we've worked together, you still haven't learned.

What's that? How to travel light.

1:00 a.m., April 14. We landed at Flagstaff, Arizona,

where we were met by Chief Everett Snoddy of the Cottonwood Police Department.

While he drove us the necessary 50 miles to Cottonwood, he filled us in.

Officer Al Ward had observed the stolen vehicle...

and had apprehended the suspect and his

girlfriend as they were speeding on Highway 89.

They were taken into custody and held in the Cottonwood jail.

2:15 a.m. Policewoman Miller brought the female suspect, Camille Gearhardt,

from her jail cell to Chief Snoddy's office.

You got a lot of nerve, wakin' me up in the middle of the night like this.

These are Los Angeles police officers. They want to ask you a few questions.

It's our duty to inform you that you have the right...

Answer or not answer or get me a lawyer. I know. I know the whole scam.

- You got a cigarette? - You old enough to smoke?

I'm old enough to do anything, including clam up.

I know my rights, fuzz, and I got a right to not even talk to you.

You're wasting your time and my beauty sleep, 'cause I ain't tellin ‘you nothin',

not a thing about nothin'.

Now, how 'bout that cigarette, and let me get back to that fleabag they call a cell.

You got nice eyes... for a cop.

And I'll bet your mother had a loud bark.

2:22 a.m. Bill advised the

suspect, Frederic L. Tosca, of his rights.

You said that real nice, Shorty. I understand that good.

Your little buddy here, he oughta be in the movies.

- Do you understand why you're under arrest? - Yeah.

Because these small-town cops watch too much TV.

They think they're all J. Edgar Hoover, but they've got nothing on me,

and like you said, Shorty, I understand my rights.

- Anything you'd like to tell us? - Sure. The capital of California is Sacramento.

The capital of Florida is Tallahassee. The capital of Texas is Austin.

- What else do you wanna know? - Where'd you get that car you were driving?

The capital of New York is Albany. The capital of Nevada is Reno.

Anything else? Why did you kill Alexander Troy?

You may not believe this, Officer, but...

the capital of Kansas is Topeka.

Now, on the other hand, the capital of Vermont is...

- All right. Let's go, Tosca. - You mean, that's all you want from me?

You'd better brush up on your geography.

- Is that right? - The capital of Nevada is Carson City.

8:15 a.m., Thursday, April 14.

We'd had four hours’ sleep, a quick breakfast and had obtained a warrant...

to search the car Tosca had stolen from Mrs. Ridges in Los Angeles.

The Cottonwood police had impounded the vehicle.

Troy's rent book. The receipt that was torn out.

Maybe that punk tore himself out a ticket to San Quentin.

We brought Camille Gearhardt

back to Chief Snoddy's office. - 20 a.m.

You guys must have thick ears. Didn't you hear me when

I told ya last night? I'm not answering no questions.

We're not gonna ask you any, Camille, because you don't seem to know anything.

We're gonna tell you what happened so you will know, in case anybody asks ya.

Now, listen carefully. You and Fred went down to Mr. Troy's apartment.

You hit him with a hammer. You stole his money.

You tore the rent receipt out of his book so nobody would know your name.

And you stole a red automobile from in front of the apartment house.

- I don't know what you're talkin' about. - Fred wadded up the rent receipt and threw it out the car window,

but it blew back into the luggage area.

And here it is.

Now, Camille, do you have any questions?

- You stupid guys really think I'm a dumb-dumb, don't you? I ain't that dumb. - Prove it.

What if Fred did kill the old man, just supposing, and what if he did take the car?

I know the law, mister, and I know a wife can't testify against her husband.

- Are you married, Miss Gearhardt? - What do you think that is? A bagel?

Braided gold with small blue stones.

Yeah, Camille, I guess you are married.

You guess. What else do you think a ring means?

Well, I'll tell you this one means you're both

goin' back to Los Angeles to stand trial for murder.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

Like the way you two handled that. Real style.

Wouldn't have been anything to handle if it wasn't for your department, Chief.

Say, you being from L.A. and all, maybe you've

got an idea how I might work something out.

- Well, we'll be glad to help if we can. - You see, there's Bob Weigl, Al Ward and me.

- That's all there is. - How do you mean, Chief?

That's the whole department here. Three of us.

I see.

I thought maybe you might have a suggestion. On what?

Sure is a tough problem to solve.

- What's that, Chief? - I'm havin' a devil of a time trying to figure out a vacation schedule.

The story you have just seen is true.

The names were changed to protect the innocent.

On July 20, trial was held in Department 184,

Superior Court of the State of California,

in and for the County of Los Angeles.

In a moment, the results of that trial.

The suspect was found guilty of murder in the first degree...

and was sentenced to death.

The suspect was found guilty as an accessory to murder in the first degree.