All language subtitles for Dragnet S01E11

This is the city— Los
Angeles, California.

It's a good place to live.
We try to keep it that way.

It's a full-time job.

Every 60 seconds, a crime
is committed in Los Angeles.

In the Los Angeles Police
Department's Communications Center,

the telephone rings every
20 seconds, 24 hours a day.

Of the three million people
who live in Los Angeles,

35,000 of them are known
rapists, murderers and thieves.

They outnumber the
police force 7-to-1.

Every time a policeman answers
a call, he takes a calculated risk.

There'll always be somebody
out there who doesn't like him...

and who might have a gun.

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

It was Tuesday, April 28. It
was overcast in Los Angeles.

We were working the day
watch out of Homicide Division.

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

My name's Friday.

We were finishing up on the
paperwork on a wife-beating case.

The wife refused to sign a
complaint against her husband.

In the state of California,
wife-beating is a felony...

and is considered a
crime against the state.

The case would be submitted
to the district attorney.

The story you are
about to see is true.

The names have been
changed to protect the innocent.

Stomach's sure upset. Then
why are you rubbing your head?

I got a headache
too. What's wrong?

I got a headache
and a stomachache.

I know. You just told
me. Something you ate?

Wife made her New England
boiled dinner last night.

Just never agrees
with me. Oh. Is that so?

She always puts way too
much curry powder in it.

Curry powder in a New
England boiled dinner?

Something Eileen's mother taught
her. Anyway, you're not married, Joe.

You wouldn't understand. I don't see why
you just don't tell her you don't like it.

Like I said, Joe, you
wouldn't understand.

Hotshot.

- They killed him! They killed him!
- Just take it easy, lady.

- He's bleeding! He's dying!
- What's the address, lady?

Olive and Main, on the corner.

Ma'am, who's the
victim? Who got shot?

A policeman! A
policeman! They killed him!

8:33 a.m. We checked
out the Homicide call car...

and headed for the scene
of the shooting, Code 3.

An officer-involved
shooting is one of the many

investigative responsibilities
of the Homicide Division.

Another unit and an ambulance
were already on the way.

8:46 a.m. Officer Dave Roberts
had been shot in the stomach...

at point-blank
range with a shotgun.

He was holding his life
in his hands. How is he?

Pretty bad. Getting shot is
a risk every policeman takes.

It comes with the badge.

For Officer Dave
Roberts, it happened early.

He was a new man—
18 months on the job.

Witnesses gave conflicting
reports of the shooting.

Two of them agreed on one thing,
however— there were two men.

They were driving a green sedan.

They couldn't describe
the men, but they thought

the car was either an
old-model Mercury or Plymouth.

9:36 a.m. Bill and I
returned to Homicide.

When we got there, Sergeant Al Vietti
from Robbery Division was waiting for us.

Got something here might tie in
with the Roberts shooting. Yeah, Al.

Liquor store two blocks
away was knocked over

just a few minutes before
Roberts was gunned down.

Liquor store clerk got a fast look at 'em
before they slugged him. What do ya got?

Two men, Caucasian. Number
one: about 6'3", heavyset.

Number two: 5'9",
short, thin. Mutt and Jeff.

Both of them were wearing dark
sport jackets, dark slacks, no hats.

What's the tie-in, Al? Big one had
some kind of a rig under his coat.

Swung a sawed-off shotgun
out from under his armpit.

Latent Prints and a photog
are on the way. Yes, sir.

They turned that green sedan.

9:46 a.m. It took
us 10 minutes to

reach the intersection of
Whitsett and Flower Streets,

where the green
sedan had been located.

We talked with Wayne
Wolfer from S.I.D.

So far he had not come up with any
physical evidence in the green sedan...

that might lead us to the
men who drove the car.

We spoke to Officer Bill
Walmsley from Latent Prints.

Looks like it's been wiped clean. Nothing
so far, Joe. We'll take it into the garage.

It doesn't look too
promising. Right. Thanks, Bill.

Anything on the plate? My partner's
checking with D.H.Q. now, Sergeant.

Anybody in the area see who abandoned the
car? No, sir. We checked with all of 'em.

Busy place. Somebody must have
seen it. Let's talk to some of 'em.

You take this side of the street.
I'll take the other. Sergeant?

Plate's clouded.
Belongs on a '57 Ford.

10:34 a.m. I had three stores
left on my side of the street.

One of them was a cut-rate drugstore.
I talked to one of the clerks on duty.

Yeah, I think I remember seeing 'em, just
coming into the store on my way to work.

- The green Merc
over there in the corner. Two guys.
- What'd they look like?

- Big, brawny guy. Short, little guy.
- Do you remember how they were dressed?

- Both of them had on sport coats.
- Could you tell what color hair they had?

Eyes, anything like that?
No, I was too far away.

Only reason I noticed 'em at
all was because they got out

of the Merc, hopped into a
dark blue Chevy and drove off.

Do you remember the license
number, by any chance?

Not by no chance. I didn't
pay that much attention.

What year was the Chevrolet?

Uh, '66. Anything
else you can add?

No. As I say, something like this happens,
usually you don't pay much attention.

Is this about that cop that got
shot a couple of blocks over?

We heard some cop got
shot. Yes, sir. That's right.

You guys really pull out all the
stops when a cop gets it, don't you?

You really drop everything else.

No, sir, we don't drop everything else,
but we try to get to whoever did it fast.

- Brothers in blue and all that, huh?
- Let me ask you something.

- Yeah?
- Those men shot down
an armed policeman.

- Yeah, they did.
- Do you think they'd hesitate
to shoot down an unarmed citizen?

1 1:05 a.m. Bill and I

returned to the Police
Administration Building.

We put out an A. P. B.
On the blue Chevrolet,

along with what little description we had
of the men who shot Officer Dave Roberts.

Friday? Gannon?
Wanna come in a minute?

You do any good out there? They
dropped the green Mercury for a blue Chevy.

Plate's clouded. Belongs on
a '57 Ford. That's all we got.

Nothing else? That's
the whole enchilada. If we

could just turn somebody
who could eyeball 'em.

You got one, but I don't know if
he's gonna live long enough to help.

Just talked to Doc Anderson
over at Central Receiving.

They dug an ounce and a
quarter of lead out of Roberts.

Two hundred seventy-six number-six
pellets and the fiber wadding.

It's still touch-and-go.
What's he doing still alive?

Just got back from the
Valley. Talked to Roberts's wife.

How is she taking it?

Pretty hard. She's five months
pregnant. You know that?

No, sir. If we just had
a half-decent I.D. on

those two punks. Any
chance we can talk to Roberts?

We'll know in the next 72 hours.

Thursday, April 30.
Three days went by.

Bill and I called all of
our informants to see

if we could dig up a
lead on the two suspects.

We had no luck. The blue Chevrolet and the
men who were driving it had disappeared.

Anything from your
informants? Nothing so far.

That '57 plate on the
Mercury was stolen from Reno.

Plate checks out to a Gunnison
Brothers junkyard in Elko.

Yeah. Oh, and one more thing.
Central Receiving just called.

They're not too crazy
about the idea. Yes, sir.

You can have one
minute with Roberts.

2:33 p.m. We drove over to
Central Receiving Hospital...

to see Officer Dave Roberts.

We spoke to Dr. Anderson
in the "P" and "F" ward.

He told us he didn't know how much good
it would do to try and talk to Roberts,

but, in any event,
to make it short.

I told your captain, no more
than a minute. Right, Doc.

Roberts? How you doin'?

Not so hot right now, Friday.

Just take it easy, Dave.
We won't be here long.

It's no use. I know
what you're after.

You wanna... hear about
those two that gunned me.

It's no good.

I'm just blank.

- Tell us what you can, Dave.
- They were in the car.

And I—I remember
checking the hot sheet.

It was no make.

I... walked up to them.

The car was green.

There was no make.

Big guy was... dropping pills...

and... chasing them with wine.

I told both men...
to get out of the car.

Big guy swung something
from under his coat.

I-I thought it was
another bottle.

It looked like it.

That's all I can pull up.

I'm just blank after that, Joe.

Can you describe the men?
Did they use any names?

I... parked... and walked over.

Car was green, and there was no—

Friday?

The human mind is a delicate
thing. He may never remember it.

- You mean he's lost his memory?
- It may come back in a few weeks,
a few years. Nobody knows.

The shock of getting shot like that
was a big trauma, a frightening thing.

The conscious mind doesn't want
to think about it and blocks it out.

It's something like amnesia.
May come back, it may not.

You remember Widdon,
Burglary Division?

Three, four years ago,
he took a. 45 slug in

the stomach. Can't
even remember his name.

- What are Roberts's chances otherwise?
- He's past the critical stage.

- I see.
- We saved his life, but not him.

Thursday, October 23, 9:00
a.m. Six months went by.

We had no more to go on than we
had the day Officer Roberts got shot.

It became a habit to check all Teletypes
and robbery A. P. B. 's every morning,

looking for anyone
who came close to fitting

the description of the
suspects in the shooting.

We finally came across
one report that looked good.

We checked with Captain
Brown. We told him what we had.

Two men had robbed a liquor
store in Pasadena the previous night.

One was tall, the other was short.
They had used a swing-out shotgun.

- You talked to Robbery Detail out there?
- Yes. Sergeant James says they've got
a witness who got a good look at 'em.

- You better pray for rain on this one.
- How's that, Skipper?

- I just checked the hospital
a few minutes ago.
- Yes, sir.

You're gonna need that eyeball
witness. Roberts still can't help you.

Bill and I, along with police

artist Hector Garcia,
drove out to Pasadena.

It was decided we would try for
composite drawings of the suspects.

Sergeant James of the Pasadena
Police Department Robbery Detail...

told us he would meet us
at the scene of the holdup.

10:05 a.m. Mr. Wilson.

Sergeant Friday,
Officer Gannon, L.A.P.D.

How do you do, sir? You
people working on this case too?

Yes, sir. That's right. Now,
this is police artist Hector Garcia.

If you'll describe the men who held you
up, Garcia here's gonna try to draw 'em.

I'll do my best, Sergeant.

All right, Mr. Wilson. We have a suspect
number one and a suspect number two.

Let's begin with suspect number one.
Let's start with the shape of his head.

Understand them two might be
the ones that shot that policeman.

- Yes, sir. That's right.
- Been held up two times
since I bought this place.

You boys nailed 'em both times.
That's why I want to do this good.

All right, sir. All right, sir,
Mr. Police Artist. Let's go get 'em.

You're good, Mr. Artist. That's
them to a "T." No doubt about it.

You remember anything they said,
Mr. Wilson? They mention any names?

- No, they didn't say much. No reason to.
- Now, how's that, sir?

That shotgun, it did all
the talking necessary.

12:15 p.m. Bill and I put out

a request for a
supplementary M. O. bulletin...

with the composite
drawings of the two suspects.

It would be sent to all
law enforcement agencies.

Four-by-five prints of the composites
were made up by the photo lab.

We drove over to
Central Receiving.

We knew it was an outside
chance, but we wanted

to show the drawings
to Officer Dave Roberts...

to confirm the fact that one of
them was the man who had shot him.

It's no good, Joe. These
pictures don't mean a thing to me.

- You're sure?
- I'm not sure who's president.

1:30 p.m. We went back downtown
to meet with Sergeant Al Vietti...

who had shown the composite drawings
of the two suspects to Pete Stuart,

the owner of the liquor store that had
been robbed the day Roberts was shot.

No good, Joe. Showed
the composites to Stuart,

said he couldn't make
'em from the drawings.

- He doesn't think they look like 'em?
- No. Said he couldn't be sure
from drawings of them.

- Wants to see some photographs.
- So do we.

Said he could definitely spot
'em from photos, but not these.

Well, right now we're right
back where we started...

Standing in the
middle of a tall hole.

Yep, we got two faces and
no names to go with 'em.

Tuesday, January 1 6, 9:30 p.m.

For three months, Bill and I spent whatever
time we could squeeze out down in R&I.

We started to go through
every package of all Mutt

and Jeff suspects known
to operate with a shotgun.

It was an endless job, and
so far, we had gotten nowhere.

You two still trying to read every
package in R&I? We might get lucky.

You might figure a way to
french fry an ice cube too.

- Those two gotta be someplace.
- Checked on Roberts late this afternoon.

- He goes home tomorrow,
if he can find his way.
- It's a rotten shame.

Homicide. Friday.

Who? Yeah. Yeah,
this is Friday, Virg.

You did? Well, have you
got a couple of names for me?

Where? Where?

Oh, Virg, we could find a place
closer than that, couldn't we?

All right. What time? Right.

I got it. I'll see you then.
One of my informants.

- Anything?
- Says he thinks he's got a line
on our Mutt and Jeff boys.

He won't tell me over the phone.
He wants to meet tomorrow morning.

Where?

Fifty-yard line at the Coliseum.

10:30 a.m.,
Wednesday, January 1 7.

I drove out to Exposition Park to the Los
Angeles Coliseum to meet with Virgil Hicks.

When I arrived, he was
seated in the stands, waiting.

We both made our way to the center
of the playing field at the 50-yard line.

Big Joe. How are you, Virg?

6'2" and even, I guess.
What do you got for us, Virg?

Two names— Roger
Kensington and Harry Johnson.

Tell me about 'em.
Real heavy, Big Joe.

Both of 'em born with their mouths on
upside down. Little guy and a big guy.

- Why'd you come to me with them, Virg?
- I was having a glass of port
in one of the joints down on Fifth.

They were throwing money
around pretty good. Go on.

The big one, Kensington,
keeps talking about Big Mama.

What do you mean, "Big Mama"?

He said, "Big Mama put
that cop down for good."

Then he said, "And, boy, is
she built. Twelve, twelve, twelve.

Both barrels of her." Yeah?

Even I know he's talking
about a shotgun now.

I put the one and one
you give me together, and

I figure it might be them
two that shot the cop.

Am I right? Sounds good, Virg.

You sure about those names
now? Kensington and Johnson?

Sure as sure. Followed
them to their hotel.

Gave the last of my bottle to the
clerk, and he give me their names.

Told him I used to work with 'em back
in Cincy. You don't think you burned it?

No, sir, Big Joe. This clerk was three
sheets to the wind by the time I left him.

- What's the name of the hotel?
- The Adobe Red, down on Crocker.

Right, Virg, and thanks.
Now, you take care of yourself.

- One thing more you oughta know.
- Yeah? What's that?

- The desk clerk at the Adobe,
he told me something.
- Yeah?

- About the shotgun the big guy's got.
- What about it?

He sleeps with it, in his bed!

1 1:15 a.m. We went
downstairs to R&I...

and pulled the packages
on Kensington and Johnson.

The mug shots were almost a
perfect match to the composites.

Bill called Al Vietti in Robbery
Division and filled him in.

Vietti said he and his partner, Slats
Henry, would show the mug shots...

to the owner of the Pasadena
liquor store that was held up.

Bill and I drove over to
Pete Stuart's liquor store,

the one that was robbed minutes before
Officer Dave Roberts had been shot down.

This one and this
one. No doubt about it.

It's like I told you, show me an actual
picture, and I'll pick 'em out every time.

- You sure, Mr. Stuart?
- Positive. Couldn't miss 'em.

The drawings were good, I'll admit that,
but that old photo will do it every time.

Thank you, Mr. Stuart.
You've been a big help.

Haven't seen anything
in the papers lately about

that officer that's been
shot. How's he doing?

- Not too good, sir.
- Yeah.

Some time ago I read where
his wife was gonna have a baby.

- You know, Sergeant, no matter how
much we pay you people— - Yes, sir?

It ain't enough.

12:20 p.m. We returned to the
office and filled Captain Brown in.

Al Vietti and his partner
had returned from Pasadena.

Wilson gave us a positive make. Kensington
and Johnson are the two who held him up.

Howe says you and Henry roll
with Friday and Gannon. Yes, sir.

Bring 'em in.

12:27 p.m.

We went downstairs to the property section
and checked out a 12-gauge Ithaca shotgun.

We also drew five rounds
of 12-gauge Magnum load...

double-ought buckshot.

Flinch, and you'll be chasing
your head down Fifth Street.

Get those hands out where I can
see 'em and climb out of that bed!

Move! Police officers.
You're under arrest.

Get your hands up against
that wall, and get your feet back.

Come on!

Come on.

- How 'bout letting me
wipe the soap off my face?
- Why? You look good.

- Why the roust? What's the charge?
- Sleeping with a shotgun will do.

3:30 p.m. Johnson and Kensington
were booked for 2 1 1 P. C.,

robbery in the first degree.

Two one-dollar rolls of Benzedrine
tablets were found in their possession,

along with a fifth of
inexpensive port wine.

Confronted with the positive identification
provided by the liquor store owners,

they admitted their
guilt for the robberies.

We checked back in
with Captain Brown.

Kensington and Johnson
steadfastly denied having

anything to do with the
shooting of Officer Dave Roberts.

That was Mert Howe. Robbery's got 'em for
three other jobs besides L.A. and Pasadena.

- Yes, sir.
- Unless you can come up with
an eyeball witness on the shooting,

you got a pound
of air and that's all.

It's too bad Roberts himself can't
finger 'em. They don't know that he can't.

Well, he's home on recuperative
leave. He's up and around.

Memory's still faded
out. Maybe it'll work.

It's got to.

Wednesday,
January 1 7, 4:15 p.m.

Look here, Harry. They
sent in the first team.

All right, tunnel mouth.
Let's all save time.

Last April, a police
officer was shot at Olive

and Main. We think you
and that shotgun did it.

- He scare you, Roger? He scares me.
- He makes me sick.

You've been rousting
me ever since I was a kid.

You and every cop from here
to Kansas City, year after year.

If it wasn't for prison
food, you'd starve to death.

You haven't been
out of the joint for more

than two or three
years in your entire life.

I'll be out again in 26 months,
brown eyes. Stay home nights.

You listen to me, punk. I've handled
jaywalkers that were tougher than you.

When I get out, I'm
gonna waste you.

No reason to work up a
sweat, Roger. They told

us our rights. We don't
even have to talk to 'em.

All right. I'll talk to you, Johnson.
You were born in Harlan, Kentucky.

Your father was a
housepainter killed in the war.

Your mother and your
sister brought you out here.

You went to school in
Torrance. You got expelled

for throwing a punch
at your math teacher.

The army took you during
the Korean War. They

didn't want you. They
shoved you out on a Section 8.

- For seven years now,
you've been in jail or just getting out.
- I do hope you'll write my book.

Now, your buddy here,
he's really big time.

Three states want
him for parole violation,

two for armed robbery and one
for statutory rape— that's in Kansas.

- You remember her name, don't you?
- What if I don't?

You should. She was
your sister's daughter.

All right. Let's take
it back about a year.

April 14, Wednesday afternoon.

You were out on
bail, pending trial in

Hampstead, Nevada, on
felony assault with G.B.I.

On April 22, you stole
a 1960 Mercury sedan

from in front of a
drugstore on Clinton Street.

You drove to Elko and lifted a plate
from the Gunnison Brothers junkyard.

Tuesday, April 28. You
parked your clean car,

the blue Chevrolet,
at Whitsett and Flower.

You drove the Mercury
over to Olive and

Main. You staked out
the Stuart Liquor Store.

While you waited for the
owner to show up, you sat in the

car dropping pills and chasing
'em with cheap port wine.

The store opened up.
You knocked it over, you

got back in the car.
Johnson, you were driving.

Kensington, you were in
the backseat with a shotgun

cradled under your arm,
hanging on this bent tablespoon.

Everything was going just fine. You kept
dropping bennies and swallowing wine.

This black-and-white unit spotted you
and pulled you over. It parked behind you.

Officer Dave Roberts walked up
to your car and told you to get out.

Then, Kensington, you broke
out in a rash of real bravery.

You swung this shotgun out from under
your coat, stuck it in Roberts's middle,

pulled the trigger and slammed
276 pellets into his stomach.

Johnson, you dropped the car
into gear and dug out, leaving

that officer there with his
life draining out in the gutter.

That's a good story, cop, but you
need a witness, and that you ain't got.

Ain't we?

You told me he
died. He should have.

You heard him. He's the one that
did it. That shotgun fits him, not me!

Shut up!

I'll tell 'em to roll the tape.

Thanks, Dave. Joe?

Yeah? You know something?

What's that, Dave?

I still don't remember them.

You don't have to now, Dave.

The story you have
just seen is true.

The names were changed
to protect the innocent.

On March 23, trial was
held in Department 186,

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 a charge
of assault with intent to commit murder.

They were also convicted on three
counts of robbery in the first degree.

Assault with intent
to commit murder is

punishable by imprisonment
in the state prison...

for not less than one
nor more than 14 years.

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

for not less than five years.