Original subtitles

This is the city— Los Angeles, California.

In 1920, the population was 576, 673.

Today, Los Angeles is the third largest city in the United States.

Nearly three million people live here.

From every nation, Los Angeles draws its bloodline.

When some of that blood is spilled, I go to work.

I carry a badge.

It was Tuesday, August 1 6. It was hot 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’d just come back from a bomb investigation.

It turned out to be a hoax.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

How'd it go, Bill? No bomb? No bomb.

This heat keeps up, the whole town's gonna blow.

Yeah. I signed us in. Good.

For me? From the fifth floor.

Credit union. Pink slip on my car. Paid off your loan, huh?

Finally. Now I gotta see Bob Fennell again. What for?

Another loan. Now I have to get it fixed. Transmission went out.

Friday, Gannon. Yes, sir.

Close to quitting time, I know, but here's one to go on. I'll sign you out. Yes, sir.

1104 Westgarden. Dead body.

Don't know what I'm gonna do with all the overtime I'm piling up. Buy a yacht.

4:23 p.m. Before we left P.A. B.,

we made the notifications, and then we headed

across town for the Westgarden address.

1 104 Westgarden was located in a quiet residential

neighborhood 15 minutes from the office.

It was 4:40 p.m. when we got there.

Friday and Gannon. Homicide. Fisher, 1 L-36.

The body's in the bedroom. Here's your D.O.A. slip. Right. Thanks, Fisher.

Who's she? Mrs. Sunshine Pound. She put in the call.

Right. Ask her to stand by, will you? Right, Sergeant.

Thank you.

Joe, Bill. Hi, Blake.

What've ya got? Two gunshots.

Where?

Head and the heart area. Those two slugs weigh more than she did.

Tiny little thing. Yeah. Who covered the body?

- Woman out there in the front room. - Let us know when you pull the slugs.

- Right, Gannon. - All right, Ed.

Besides the usual shots, I want two lateral, two

vertical and one head down— And in color. Okay, Sergeant.

Can't weigh over 90 pounds. Beautiful girl, Joe. A living doll.

Not anymore.

You're Mrs. Sunshine Pound? Beg your pardon?

You're Mrs. Sunshine Pound?

Had you tuned out. Yes, that's correct.

Police officers, ma'am. This is Sergeant Friday. My name's Gannon.

Oh, the shame of it all.

Lovely girl like Reiko. Who could do such a thing?

- What's her full name, Mrs. Pound? - Reiko Hashimoto.

Twenty-six years old. She married?

She was. Her husband was killed seven months ago in Vietnam.

- He was a sergeant in the army. - What was his name? Would you know?

Frank. Frank Hashimoto. They were a lovely couple.

He was an army career man, brought Reiko over from Japan.

He was nisei, born and raised right here in Los Angeles.

- Did you hear any shots, any disturbance? - No. Not a sound.

- Where do you live, Mrs. Pound? - Just down the block. 1181 Westgarden.

Friday, see you a minute? Excuse me.

We're gonna move the body, Joe. Bill.

Be right back.

Looks like there was an exit wound.

Wanna check it? It'll keep.

See you, Joe. Right, Blake.

Find out anything yet?

She's dead, and she was pretty.

Poor Reiko. Poor little thing.

The Hashimotos have any enemies that you know

of? Anyone who might do a thing like this?

Not a soul, Sergeant. They were delightful neighbors.

Kept pretty much to themselves. Oh, they were friendly,

but they loved their home— Always sprucing it up.

And isn't it lovely? Reiko was so neat and tidy.

You say she was from Japan. She have any relatives in this country?

- Yes. One. Her mother. - Would you know her name?

- It's Mrs. Watanabe. - Do you know where we might find her?

Not exactly. I only met her once.

I think from what Reiko said that she has an apartment

someplace down in Japanese Town— Little Tokyo.

- That's where Miko probably is, staying with her grandmother. - Miko?

Yes. Reiko's little daughter. She's only five.

- Mrs. Pound, did Mrs. Hashimoto have any men friends that you know of? - How do you mean that, Sergeant?

- Well, I mean, being a widow, did she go out with men? - If she did, I never heard her say.

She loved her husband, and although she was a beautiful girl,

I doubt very much if she ever saw another man.

- Why would her daughter be staying with her mother? - I don't know.

- You covered the body with that bedsheet? - Yes, I did.

I couldn't stand to wait here for you people

with that little thing lying in there.

- Yes, ma'am. - I'm deaf, you know.

- When there's something I don't want to hear, I turn off my aid. - Yes, ma'am.

Poor little Reiko. There's no way I can tune that out.

5:35 p.m. Bill called Captain Brown and filled him in.

He asked for another two teams to begin a house-to-house check of the neighborhood...

to see if any witnesses could be turned.

The captain said they would begin a search

for Reiko Hashimoto's mother, Mrs. Watanabe.

I talked to Sergeant Dean Bergman from Latent Prints.

Doesn't look too promising, Joe. House is unusually clean.

The woman must have dusted and waxed the place every 15 minutes. Yeah.

Got a few prints, but right now I don't know.

I'll work for eliminations. Thanks, Dean.

Alexander, Petrovich, Higbie and Hansen are on their way out to give us a hand.

Good. Let's see if we can turn a photograph

of the Hashimoto woman. What's been dusted?

Everything in the room except this table.

Inside of this chest looks like a filing cabinet.

Same here. Everything's in perfect order.

Must have been quite a housekeeper.

Not a thing out of place.

Joe.

Reiko Hashimoto. Recent picture, I'd say, wouldn't you?

She was pretty, Joe.

Let's check on that slug in the bedroom.

- In there? - No, it doesn't seem to be.

Went on through. Under the house.

Wanna get the flashlights? It's getting dark

out. Be easier to find it in the morning.

It'll still be dark under the house in the morning.

5:55 p.m. While I crawled

under the house, Bill waited in the bedroom above.

He signaled to me by tapping on the floor.

When I reached the area underneath the bedroom, I returned the signal.

Okay. I'm bringing the flashlight over the hole.

All right. It's on.

I see it.

How you comin'? Workin' on it.

Got it?

Got it.

6:10 p.m. Two teams of detectives arrived...

to assist Bill and me in checking the immediate neighborhood...

in the hope that we might turn up someone who might

know something about Reiko Hashimoto's murder.

We gave one of the photographs of Reiko Hashimoto to Chuck Higbie and his partner.

Bill and I kept the other one.

Every house within a two-block radius would be checked.

9:35 p.m. Three hours later, we were no further ahead than we were before.

About all you can say is we took a long walk on a warm summer evening.

Did you pull up anything, Chuck? Woman whose property

backs up on this house thinks she heard a couple of shots.

Thinks it was around 11:00, 11:30. Yeah?

She also said it could have been a car backfiring. She's not sure, Joe.

Couldn't you pin her down on whether they sounded like shots or backfiring?

Yeah, Joe. I tried. She just wasn't sure.

You'd think people would try to be a little more sure.

Anything else, Chuck?

Hansen talked to a woman by the name of Cordell.

Lurlene Cordell. She lives a couple blocks from here. 908 South Wallace.

What about her? She was attacked by some guy driving a yellow Dodge pickup truck.

Said she reported it. Yeah?

Said the truck was full of housepainter's gear.

She remembers a ladder painted red and green.

Threatened her with a gun. She didn't know the caliber. Anything else?

- Nope. That's about it. - Then what's the connection?

I didn't say there was. Just giving you what we turned.

With all that, Higbie, we ought to break it in about an hour.

- Something wrong, Joe? - No, Chuck. There's nothing wrong.

A hundred pounds of young woman was shot through the head and the heart.

10-to-1 she was mauled by whoever did it.

She's got a five-year-old kid and a mother floating around

somewhere in this city. They don't even know she's bought in.

We can't buy a piece of anything to pick up and run with.

Some case of arrested development can walk into a home like this,

destroy a human life, waltz out and leave nothing behind but his memory.

And you can't run a make on that.

We're all tired. Let's grab something to eat

and hit it again first thing in the morning.

You go ahead. I'll see you at the office tomorrow.

Wife's holding dinner. See you in the morning, Joe. Bill.

Right. Thanks, Chuck. Come on, Joe. Nothing more we can do here tonight.

I'll hang a while longer. What's bugging you

you get in that first lecture at the academy.

Yeah? What's that? The business of not letting

yourself get personally involved in a case.

Who says I am? I do. I know it's a useless killing. They all are.

I know we haven't got eight cents to go on. We seldom do.

But don't let this one eat at you, Joe.

Here are the car keys. I'll catch a ride with Higbie.

Thanks, Bill. Smoke a cigarette and go home.

When a man signs on the job, a lot of things come with the badge.

The risk, the pay, the hours he works.

One thing that isn't regulation issue: his personal feelings.

There's no way of regulating an officer's thoughts when he's on an investigation.

He becomes hardened to the sight of a dead

human being— to the grotesque, the hideous,

to man's inhumanity— his almost casual ability to murder, to take another's life.

Once in a great while, an officer's knees bend.

If they buckle, he's been on the job too long.

Reiko Hashimoto was dead. It was our job to find who made her that way.

Bill was right. I smoked a cigarette and went home.

Wednesday, August 1 7, 8:10 a.m.

Bill and I reported to the coroner's office for the postmortem on Reiko Hashimoto.

Victim had been dead approximately five hours before discovery. Yeah?

She'd been sexually molested. Killer didn't

have to worry about the shot in her heart.

This is the one that did it. The other one was no vitamin pill.

8:35 a.m. We took the slug the

coroner had recovered from the victim's head...

to S. I. D., Ballistics Section.

Ray Murray placed it under the comparison microscope...

along with the slug we had recovered from under the Hashimoto home.

They check. They were fired from the same weapon. What's the caliber, Ray?

255 grains, .45-caliber revolver.

Big gun. Yeah. For such a tiny target.

9:00 a.m. We met with

Captain Hugh Brown in the Homicide squad room.

The two slugs match up, and that's it, huh? That's it.

You're sure about the general location on

that Watanabe woman, Hashimoto girl's mother?

Yes, sir. Mrs. Pound says she lives somewhere down around Little Tokyo.

If she does, she's rolled up tighter than a fortune cookie. We can't find her.

The story made all the papers this morning. If she reads them, she'll know.

How about your callbacks? Last night when

you made your house-to-house, everybody home?

No, sir. Three houses were dark in the Hashimoto block. Thought we'd tag 'em now.

Get to it. We gotta turn somebody else who can tell us how this woman lived.

Being a widow, attractive, good chance she might've had men in her life.

Maybe one of 'em rang her doorbell with a .45.

- My guess is no. - Let's find out anyway.

- Yes, sir. - And, Friday...

- Yes, sir? - Let's ease off on the hours you and Gannon have been putting in.

I want to get the bum who did it just as much as you two.

I also want to see you on the job. Get your rest.

I'll admit this is one that's liable to keep me awake nights.

They all do me.

10:20 a.m. Bill and I return to Westgarden Street...

to check the three houses where there was no answer the night before.

Two of the places said they didn't know Reiko

Hashimoto and had nothing unusual to report.

We tried the third and last home on the block.

I heard the entire story on the news. It was his will, of course.

Whose will, ma'am? Our Heavenly Shepherd.

When he summons his flock, we must respond. Yes, ma'am.

- I wonder if we could have your full name, please. - Sister Agatha Edney. E-D-N-E-Y.

The Reverend Anointed Goodlang of the Flock of Our Heavenly

Shepherd Tabernacle of the Angels will vouch for me.

There's nothing to be vouched for, Miss Edney. We just want a little information.

About my little departed Japanese neighbor.

Yes, ma'am. Were you home yesterday morning?

- I was. Until 9:00. - You left the house at 9:00?

Tuesday Bible class begins at 9:30. I do not drive a car.

I walk. I see. What time did you return home?

Midnight. I stayed for the church social and supper.

When was the last time you saw Mrs. Hashimoto, ma'am?

I can't say. I seldom saw her. She's not church people.

Can you tell us anything at all about Mrs. Hashimoto?

Ever see any visitors come to her house? Anything like that?

I rarely go outside of my home, and then not to spy.

- Spying is the work of the devil. - Yes, ma'am.

Does anyone else live here?

- Yes. - Who would that be?

Our Heavenly Shepherd dwells in the house of all who believe.

1 1:05 a.m. We began a store-to-store check...

on all places of business in the small shopping center in the Westgarden district.

It netted us nothing.

Noon. Bill and I began questioning people who passed by the Hashimoto home.

We talked to the mailman, the milkman, the paperboy.

We talked to anyone who'd talk to us.

So far, the results were all negative. - 30 p.m.

Oh, yes. A lovely woman. I used to see her once

in a while doing her gardening. Yes, ma'am.

I'm sorry I can't help you. Poor little thing.

Well, thanks anyway. Yes.

Beginning to look hopeless. Yeah. How many does that make?

Fifty-three.

Another woman. You want to take her? Yeah.

Police officer, ma'am. Am I under arrest?

No. I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm not under arrest?

No, ma'am. I live at 1255 Wallace Street. My husband gets home from work at 6:00.

Yes, ma'am. You talk to him.

Monday, August 29, 12:05 p.m.

We kept at it for 12 days, watching, waiting.

We didn't know exactly what we were watching for. Maybe just a break.

Anything that might shed some light on whoever murdered Reiko Hashimoto.

You sure you don't want this last hot dog?

No, thanks. You go ahead. You think I should?

Why not? I've had four.

Bill. I see it.

The ladder.

The woman Higbie talked to— What was her name? Cordell?

Lurlene Cordell. 908 South Wallace.

That's three minutes from here. I'll see if I can make it in two.

We were lucky. Lurlene Cordell was at home.

Bill drove her back and parked across the street from the Edney house.

Miss Cordell was positive it was the same truck and the same red and green ladder.

We waited. Thirty minutes went by.

I'd never forget that face in a million years. That's him.

Police officers. Hold it right there. You're under arrest.

What for? Forcible rape.

Get 'em up there.

The suspect identified himself as Ben Roy Yoder.

He was advised of his constitutional rights.

We asked that a black-and-white unit take him downtown.

Bill drove Lurlene Cordell back to her home.

I went to the Edney home to again talk to Agatha Edney.

It was his will, and his will will be done.

How long has Yoder lived here? Three years now.

Why didn't you tell us before he lived here? Ben Roy is my sister's boy.

He is fighting the devil. He is on parole.

He said he is always under suspicion by the

police, so he hid to keep fighting the devil.

Kind of looks like he lost, doesn't it?

3:30 p.m. Ben Roy Yoder was

booked under Section 26 1, 3 P. C., Forcible Rape.

We still had nothing to connect Yoder with the murder of Reiko Hashimoto,

but because of the proximity of the Edney home to the Hashimoto home...

and his M. O., Yoder looked like a good bet.

5:00 p.m. A search warrant was obtained, and along with

Detectives Hansen, Alexander, Higbie and Petrovich,

Bill and I drove out to the Edney home to search for the murder weapon.

5:18 p.m. We laid out plans for the search of the Edney home.

Higbie, you and Alexander take the garage and the truck, okay? Right.

Hansen, you take the bedrooms. Don, how about the kitchen for you?

You want to check the bathroom? I'll work the living room. Right.

This is not a den of thieves to be searched. We'll try

not to upset things any more than we have to, Miss Edney.

I shall pray, Officer. Yes, ma'am.

Not for you. For Ben Roy.

7:32 p.m. We searched the entire premises three times.

Each time around, we'd switch search areas.

Each officer would take a different room than he had the time before.

Ten pounds of air, Joe. All right. Again.

This time I'll take the kitchen. Each man alternate with his partner again.

I'll work the bathroom again. I'll take Yoder's bedroom.

You men are the devil's disciples.

Yes, ma'am. You men know no bounds.

You would search a heavenly temple, wouldn't you? Yes, ma'am.

If we thought there was a murder gun in it.

Joe. In here.

Missed it before. False bottom in the drawer.

Found it underneath in this torn paper bag.

.45-caliber revolver.

Been fired recently.

You know, if you could cook, I'd marry ya.

Tuesday, August 30, 6:00 p.m.

Death bullets came from this weapon. Striations match perfectly.

This is the gun that killed the little Japanese girl.

Looked like it was wiped clean. How do we tie it to Yoder?

I did that for you too. Ran the paper sack through the anhydrine process.

Lifted several good prints. They belong to Yoder.

Thanks, Ray. Joe.

It's been a real pleasure doing business with you on this one.

6:10 p.m. Bill and I went

downstairs to Homicide to check out for the day.

Friday, Gannon. Yeah, Skipper.

Just got a call 10 minutes ago. Should interest you. Yes, sir.

She's out at the Hashimoto house, asked if you'd drop by for a minute. Who's that?

Hashimoto woman's mother, Mrs. Watanabe.

6:35 p.m. Bill and I drove out to 1 104 Westgarden Street.

Mrs. Watanabe showed us into the garden in back of the Hashimoto house.

I am so happy you could come.

It is for Miko. Yes, ma'am.

I have prepared green tea and rice crackers.

Miko...

This is Reiko's daughter, Miko.

Thank you. Arigato, Miko.

Mrs. Watanabe? No, thank you.

The reason I did not call you before is I did not know of my daughter's dying.

Miko and me, we were staying with friends on a farm in Imperial Valley.

I finally read Rafu Shimpo, Japanese paper,

and I learned of my sadness.

Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Watanabe, we'd like you to know...

we believe we've caught the man that killed your daughter.

Oh. So quick. You have man in prison.

Why would he want my daughter's life?

We don't know, Mrs. Watanabe. Some men just kill.

Oh, yes.

In Japan we have same, but not so many.

- Yes, ma'am. - Miko, she has gift for you.

She know you work hard to find the man who took her mother's life.

Miko...

Very nice tea, Mrs. Watanabe.

I'm so happy you like it. It is from Japan.

She say it is her most favorite doll.

Her name is Princess Michiko.

She wishes for you to have it.

Mrs. Watanabe, you don't have to give us

anything. We're not allowed to accept gifts.

Oh, the child will be disappointed if you do not take it.

Please tell her thank you. Tell her just the thought is enough.

Is it not a good enough doll?

You tell her, just like her mistress— - Yes?

Princess Michiko is a living doll.

The story you have just seen is true.

The names were changed to protect the innocent.

On November 20, trial was held...

in Department 185,

Superior Court of the State of California,

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.

Murder in the first degree is punishable by death...

or confinement in the state prison for life.