Original subtitles

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.