All language subtitles for Dragnet S01E07

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.