Original subtitles

This is the city— Los Angeles, California.

It's a big place...

and getting bigger all the time.

Twenty years ago, this was our telephone book.

Today it takes these five books to do the same job.

People move here from all over the country, looking for a new life.

Some leave their inhibitions back where they came from.

And sometimes their sense of right and wrong.

That's when I go to work. I carry a badge.

It was Wednesday, March 19. It was cold in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch out of Juvenile Division.

The boss is Captain Lou Richey. My partner's Bill Gannon.

My name's Friday.

Bill and I had just returned from court, where

we had testified in a juvenile narcotics case.

We were on our way to lunch when the captain stopped us in the hallway.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Joe, Bill, you know Sergeant John Pearson. How are you, John?

How are you, Pearson? Good to see you.

As you know, John’s O.I.C., Juvenile Unit, West Valley. Yeah, we know.

How'd it go in court? Looked like you had a good case.

We got a petition sustained. Six months’ probation, custody of his parents.

How do you figure it, Captain? Kid's an addict,

in possession, was even selling the stuff.

I don't know. Sixteen years old.

Pearson's got an epidemic on his hands out in West Valley.

Friday, you remember the way it was in '57?

Four radio units covered the entire division.

- Yeah, John. - Things have changed a lot since then.

- 130,000 more people have moved in. - How many more men did you get?

- Not enough. - Here are the statistics, Joe.

John's division covers about 85 square miles.

Eight different communities. At the last count, 330,000 people.

Half of 'em—150,000— Are juveniles.

That's more people than the entire population of Savannah, Georgia.

I've got just 10 officers to handle them. It's getting out of hand.

First two months of last year, we arrested 489 kids.

First two months of this year, we arrested 596.

What's your biggest problem, Pearson? All of 'em— narcotics, grand theft auto,

drinking, shoplifting— We got 'em all.

It's not just a problem of law enforcement. It's a community problem.

Trouble is, there's no community, Captain. These

people come piling in here from everywhere.

They don't know each other and don't want to.

They come out here, make a down payment on

a house, and move in with a couple of kids.

That doesn't mean they've made a home— no more

than giving a name to a place makes it a community.

Yeah, and you get a little weary of hearing every

kid give you the same excuse when you tag 'em.

"You don't understand. I just want to

belong. That's why I did it." Belong to what?

What it boils down to is the new morality, doesn't it? A whole new sense of values.

The kids see it on television, in magazines, even hear it from the pulpit.

God is dead. Drug addiction is mind-expanding.

Promiscuity is glamorous. Even homosexuality is praiseworthy.

How are you gonna fight that? It ain't easy.

But you gotta remember that the vast majority of the

juveniles you're handling are the kids next door.

They're not hard-core criminals. It's just that for them...

it's a great deal more important to be accepted

by the other kids than to please their parents.

Maybe if you put a couple of men on the lecture circuit.

Talk to the schools, P.T.A.'s.

I got 104 schools, Captain. I got 10 men.

You got 12 now.

2:45 p.m. To help out Sergeant Pearson,

the captain assigned us to temporary duty in the West Valley Division.

After we filed our reports, we drove out to Reseda.

It's a good 35-minute drive from downtown, even on the freeway.

3:20 p.m. Bill and I checked in to West Valley Juvenile.

Yeah, okay. You hold him there. We'll be right over.

Shoplifter. Summer's department store, West Valley Plaza.

They're holding him in the security office. Right.

Fifteen-year-old boy.

3:32 p.m. We headed for the West Valley Plaza,

an old, established shopping center.

Summer's department store is one of the largest in California.

It has branches in almost every part of the city.

-45 p.m.

Hal Rosten. Friday and Gannon, West Valley Juvenile.

I got the boy in the next office. Here's the theft report.

I'm getting writer's cramp making these out. It's like the locusts have moved in.

Last month or so, we've had pretty big losses. That right?

We've been taken for almost $4,000 worth of merchandise.

Same thing's happening to other stores here in the Plaza.

Young kids take weird stuff. Like the one in the next office.

One Whirlwind hair dryer, $16.98. One package Deep Soft diapers, $2.68.

One box paper clips, 42 cents.

What's a 15-year-old kid want with stuff like that?

Let's ask him.

You the fuzz? Police officers. What's your name, son?

- Bobby Lassin. He asked me that already. - All right, Bob. You're under arrest.

You have the right to remain silent, and any statements

you make may be used against you in a court of law.

You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford

an attorney, one will be appointed before questioning.

Do you understand? Yeah.

- Do you live at 20329 Tareyton Place, Canoga Park? - Yeah, that's where I live.

How old are you? Fifteen. Be 1 6 in August.

- You gonna call my mother? - We have to take you in first.

- You gonna put me in jail? - Maybe.

- What for? I didn't do nothing. - You stole merchandise from this store.

Well, you got it all back, didn't you? Nobody got hurt.

You did, son. You committed a crime.

Even if I'd gotten away with it, they'd never

miss it. They got all the stuff in the world.

Why'd you take these things— A hair dryer, diapers, paper clips?

- I had to. - You had to?

Sure. It adds up to 20 bucks, doesn't it?

4:05 p.m. With the subject

in custody, we returned to the office.

4:15 p.m. I called Georgia Juvenile Records...

and the Central Juvenile Index in the L.A. Sheriff's office.

Robert Lassin had no previous record.

Following department procedure, I filled in Sergeant Pearson.

Let's get the parents down here, Joe. Find out what his background is.

Maybe we can straighten him up without going to court. Okay, John.

Joe? He wants a favor before his mother gets here.

Yeah? Wants to call a friend of his.

Claims he left a package in a service station a couple of blocks from school.

Wants somebody to pick it up and bring it here. What's in it?

Something about his clothes. I can't let her see me in these. She'll kill me.

Doesn't your mother know you dress like that?

If she did, would I have to change clothes in a gas station every day?

Where'd you get that outfit? I bought it.

You sure about that? You gonna let me change?

No. My mother's really gonna be mad.

I hope so.

4:26 p.m. I called the Lassin boy's mother...

and explained the circumstances of his arrest.

She said it would take about 15 to 20 minutes to drive over.

Are you Sergeant Friday? Yes, ma'am. That's right.

I'm Peggy Lassin, Bobby's mother.

Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to get a babysitter.

I understand. I'm sorry we had to ask you to

come over. Would you like to sit down, please?

Is Bobby here? Yes, ma'am. He's just inside. He's all right.

May I see him? Yes. I'd like to ask you a few questions first.

You going to put him in jail? That depends, Mrs. Lassin.

Has the boy ever been in trouble before? No, never.

He didn't do anything really wrong, did he?

Well, like I told you on the telephone, he was arrested for shoplifting.

You know, boys take things sometimes.

Like a baseball or jackknife, things like that.

It's stealing, Mrs. Lassin.

He's been wanting a pocketknife. Is that what he took? I'll pay for it.

No, ma'am. He took a hair dryer, a dozen diapers and a box of paper clips.

Do you know any reason why he'd want those things? No.

Do you think he might have taken them to give somebody as a present?

He was never in any trouble before.

It's like living in a big vacuum out here.

Do you know that? Back home we used to have friends,

neighbors.

Out here all we have are people who happen to live next door.

We've lived in the same house for two years,

and we still don't know anybody, not really.

Not like it was back home. Nobody's got any roots out here.

My husband says it was like being in the army.

First thing you ask somebody is where they're from.

You know what I mean?

Nobody belongs to anybody or anything.

We're all strangers.

It makes it difficult, you know.

What's that, Mrs. Lassin? Raising a family.

Bobby makes friends in school. I never get to meet their parents.

He used to bring his friends home sometimes.

They were nice boys, mostly.

- Do you know who he runs around with? - Not anymore.

He comes home for dinner,

and he does his homework, and he goes right out again.

But he's always in bed by 10:00 on school nights. His father sees to that.

Do you think your husband will straighten him out, have a talk with him?

He's going to get whipped all right, if that's what you mean.

Nobody in our family has ever been

arrested. My husband's not going to like it.

You're not going to put him in jail?

No, ma'am. You can take him home this time.

But if he gets in trouble again, it'll go a little harder for him.

- Thank you. - I'll get the boy.

Hi, Ma. Where'd you get those clothes?

All the guys wear 'em. I asked you where you got them!

From the store. Did you steal them?

You wouldn't let me buy 'em. If your father

sees you dressed up like that, he'll have a fit.

Will you tell me what's so wrong with these clothes?

Why can't I ever be like the other kids? Their parents let them.

Well, I'm not their mother! I'm yours!

And no son of mine is going to dress up like a circus clown!

- Well, all the other kids do. - Did they steal them?

- Well, so what if they did! - You took those things without paying for them.

- You stole them, didn't you? - Well, I had to, Mom.

Don’t you understand? I can't be in the club if I don't.

You didn't tell us about any club, son. Tell us about it now.

They call it the Mod Squad.

To get in, you gotta steal $20 worth of stuff.

Why didn’t you come to me? I could've found the $20 for you somewhere.

It's not the money. You know the little tags

they put on stuff that has the price on it?

- What about 'em? - Well, if you buy something, they tear it in half.

But to get in the Mod Squad, you gotta bring the whole tag.

If you buy it, they won't give you the whole tag.

I asked 'em. And if you don't have the whole one, Audie won't let you join.

And it's gotta add up to $20. That's why I took that junk.

Who's Audie? The top man.

- He says who gets in and who don't. - What's his last name?

- Fulton. Audie Fulton. - Do you know the names of the rest of this bunch?

- Do I have to tell them? - Yes, you do.

- I don't wanna be a fink. - Let's have the names, son.

Boy, they'll never let me join the club now.

- Don't let it worry you. - What do you mean?

I got a hunch their membership drive's gonna be over.

Thursday, March 20, 8:30 a.m.

Before we released him into the custody of his mother,

we made the Lassin boy change his clothes

that he had stolen and held them as evidence.

He gave us the names of the members of the Mod Squad,

one of the teenage groups that was partly responsible

for the current wave of shoplifting in the Valley.

They were all students at the Millard Senior High School.

Bill called the boys' vice principal. He said

he could arrange for us to talk with the boys.

8:42 a.m.

Millard High is one of eight senior high schools in the West Valley.

It took us about 10 minutes to get there.

We met David Carroll, the boys' vice principal, in his office.

We gave him the list of names we had gotten from the Lassin boy.

- The Mod Squad. - That's what we understand.

Supposed to steal $20 worth of merchandise in order to belong.

Is that correct? I'm afraid so.

We have another group called the Tiger Tankers.

To get into that one, the boys have to steal a car.

That's right, Mr. Carroll. They're under

investigation. We have two of their members in custody.

- Are they my boys? - No, sir.

They call them clubs. Most of them are really just gangs.

We have a lot of good organizations— Honor societies, things like that.

We try to encourage those, discourage the other ones, the gangs.

We have rules against them. We try, but we can't stop them.

- Oh, I don't know. Maybe they need 'em. - How do you mean, Mr. Carroll?

Belonging to a club or a gang gives them a sense

of security, a sense of belonging somewhere.

It gives them something they don't get at home.

Things we all need—love and affection, security, recognition, new adventure.

Now, they don't get those things at home,

they're gonna look for 'em somewhere else...

In the Mod Squad, maybe, or the Hell's Angels—

Instead of something worthwhile, like the Boy Scouts or the Y.M.C.A.

And most times, it's a reasonable substitute.

When they go bad, there's nothing much we can do about it.

We have 3,000 boys and girls here. We only have so much time.

We try, but we can't do the parents’ job for them.

We only have 'em six or seven hours a day.

The best we can do is to try to give them an education.

They're supposed to learn the basic values at home.

I didn't mean to deliver a speech. I'll go get the boys for you.

You really think talking to 'em is gonna do any good? We never know, but we try.

I don't know. Looks to me like you're doing 'em a favor.

- How's that, Mr. Carroll? - Getting them out of class.

9:15 a.m. We assembled the members of the Mod Squad.

We told them that we knew groups like theirs were involved...

in the wave of shoplifting that had hit the Valley.

Pardon me, Mr. Policeman. Fuzz, sir? May I ask a question?

- Audie Fulton, isn't it? - The one and only.

- It shows. - You gonna bust us or just bore us to death?

I mean, man, you're interrupting our education.

How are we ever gonna grow up to fight wars and

pay taxes if cops keep playing games with us?

- They tell me you're the top man here. - Some say that.

You're the one that decides who's in, how much

you have to steal for the privilege of joining?

No, man, we're democratic. This is America. We put it to a vote.

- And they elected you? - Sure. I got dominant genes, man.

- I'm a natural-born leader. - You're also a natural-born thief.

And that's for you to prove, baby. That's your bag, not mine.

Don't push your luck. It just might happen.

And if we do, that grin'll leave your face in a big hurry, fella.

Don't think you've come up with a new wrinkle here.

There's nothing new about being a thief. The state prison's full of 'em.

Let me tell you about one of 'em. First time I met him, he was 1 6.

His name was Jim. He went to school in North Hollywood.

We picked him up for shoplifting. We talked to his parents.

Seemed like a nice family, so we let him go.

Couple of months later, we picked him up again— at the wheel of a stolen car.

This time he went to court. They put him on probation.

Looked like he was gonna straighten up. He didn't.

Couple of weeks later, the owner of a liquor store picked him out of a show-up.

He'd held up the store with a .22 rifle his father had given him for his birthday.

I didn't see much of him after that. That was eight years ago.

But I know he put in two years with the California Youth Authority.

He got out and went home. His buddies from high school were all in the army,

married or thinking about getting married,

and they didn't want to have much to do with him.

Honest people don't like to be around thieves.

The only people who'd associate with him were other thieves.

When thieves get together, they only got one thing in mind— to steal something.

They tried their hand at holding up a supermarket.

They didn't make it. But they did manage to kill the manager.

Jim's up at San Quentin now. He's 25.

He's spent one-third of his life in jail.

It's doubtful he'll reach his 26th birthday.

His lawyers are trying to get the sentence commuted to life,

but right now he's scheduled for the gas chamber on September 8.

Ten years ago, I told him what I'm telling you.

When you live in a society, you either live by the rules...

or, by democratic process, you change 'em.

You don't break 'em.

You can have 'em back.

It's a new generation, Joe. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?

About what? It's like we were living in a different century.

We see things as black or white, legal or illegal, right or wrong.

They don't seem to see it that way. Maybe they just don't know the difference.

Then it's time they learned.

9:56 a.m. We drove back to West Valley Juvenile.

12:10 p.m. In just over two hours, we were able to contact most of the parents.

We ran the names of the members of the Mod Squad...

through Juvenile Records and the Sheriff's Central Juvenile Index.

None of them had any previous record.

With the parents alerted, there was a good chance it might stay that way.

Joe, Bill, got another one for you.

Shoplifter. Summer's department store again.

- Yeah. - Kid named Audie Fulton.

12:22 p.m. Upon arrival at Summer's department store,

we went immediately to the security office.

Hal Rosten again met us. Take a look at this.

One can of hair spray, one bottle of cologne,

three lipsticks, six spools of thread,

one transistor radio, six handkerchiefs,

one pair of pinking shears, six shoestrings, two combs, one nail tweezers.

How'd he expect to haul all this stuff away?

With ingenuity.

We meet again. I'll go quietly. No more speeches, please.

You're under arrest, son. It's our duty to advise you...

Yeah, I learned that in Government 2. I have the right to remain silent...

and any statement I make may be used against me.

I have the right to an attorney. If I can't afford

one, one will be appointed before any questioning.

- How about that? - Do you understand it?

Sure. Name, rank and serial number, baby. That's all you're getting from me.

Geneva conventions. I guess we didn't get through to you, did we, boy?

- I offered to pay for the stuff. - He's got a charge account here.

He showed me his card after I picked him up outside.

- Why didn't you use it? - Oh, that'd be cheating.

Is that right? Look, I'm president of the Mod Squad, man.

Some of the guys didn't think I'd do it. Said we'd better break up,

what with the heat on and everything.

I told 'em it didn't make any difference.

First time the old magic coat has failed me.

- This it? - Neat, huh? Designed it myself.

You can put a lot of jazz in there. Look, why don't I just pay for the stuff?

Nobody gets hurt. We forget the whole thing. Can't do that, son.

- Why not? - That'd be cheating.

12:49 p.m. With the boy in custody, we returned to the office.

1:05 p.m. While Bill took the boy into the office to complete the arrest report,

I filled in Sergeant Pearson.

May have to file a petition on this one. See if you can get hold of his parents.

That may be a little difficult. How's that?

On the way over, he said he hadn't seen them in three days.

1:45 p.m. I called the Fulton residence.

A maid answered. She said Mr. Fulton was out of town...

and that Mrs. Fulton wasn't taking any calls.

I asked her if she was at home. The maid said she was.

2:08 p.m. Bill and I left the office and drove over to the Fulton home.

It was located in the Royal Oaks section of Woodland Hills,

a high-income section of the Valley.

Yes, Janet? What is it? Police officers, Mrs. Fulton.

This is Bill Gannon. My name's Friday. We called earlier.

Oh, yes. Janet told me. It's about Audie, isn't it?

Well, I'm sure there's a very big mistake.

Do you know about his connection with a gang called the Mod Squad?

You mean those boys in the English costumes?

That's Audie's club. They come up here on weekends,

and we let them have the house for their meetings.

- Do you or your husband supervise them, ma'am? - Not at Audie's age. He's a big boy now.

Do you always leave the liquor out like that, ma'am? Of course. Why shouldn't we?

There have been several reports of teenage drinking going on in this area.

We're not accusing you, but it might be good to keep your liquor locked up...

unless you or your husband are here to supervise your son's parties.

- Really? I hadn't heard about that. - We'd like you to come down to the office and talk to your son.

- What on earth for? - He's under arrest, Mrs. Fulton.

Now, what could he have done? He's only 16.

He walked out of Summer's department store with

about $75 worth of merchandise he didn't pay for.

Well, that's silly. We have a charge account there.

Yes, ma'am. He told us.

Well, that's it, isn't it? Just send the bill,

and we'll be happy to pay for whatever he took.

It's too late for that, Mrs. Fulton. He went in

with the intent to shoplift. That makes it burglary.

That's a felony. Well, now, why would he do something like that?

We give him anything he wants.

There's no reason for him to steal. He has everything.

Everything he needs. Does he?

2:23 p.m. We returned to West Valley Juvenile.

Mrs. Fulton said she'd follow us in her own car.

2:36 p.m. Officer John Finlay brought Mrs. Fulton into the office.

I parked right in front. That's all right, isn't

it? I mean, I won't get a ticket or anything.

No, ma'am. Would you like to sit down?

How long is this going to take? Only as long as it takes to make a decision.

What do you mean? We have to make a choice.

We can end it right here, let him walk out,

or we can detain him and file an application for

a petition with the County Probation Department.

Well, what happens if you file this petition thing?

- There'll be a hearing in Juvenile Court. - You mean you'll put him in jail?

That'll be up to the Probation Department. They can

decide to release him or take him to court to stand trial.

- How long does that take? - If he has to go to court, it'll be about five days for adjudication.

- About 12 more for disposition. - If that happens, do I have to go to court with him?

- Yes, ma'am. You and your husband. - Oh. Is there any way things could be speeded up?

- How do you mean? - My husband and I are leaving for Europe March 30.

Yes, ma'am. Do you plan on taking the boy along?

- No. It's going to be sort of a second honeymoon, Sergeant. - I see.

You tell 'em about you and Dad going to Europe? There you are, Audie.

- Are you all right? - Just fine. You tell 'em why you're not taking me along?

- Now, darling, we discussed all that, didn't we? - I didn't. My vote didn't count.

Now, Audie, I'm sure these policemen are not

interested in our private family matters.

What have you decided, Sergeant? Does he stay, or do I take him home?

He stays.

I see. Then you won't be needing me anymore at the moment.

No, ma'am.

Now, Audie, you must learn. You know you've done wrong.

Your father's not going to like this. Why?

I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. And I must run. I'm late now.

Yes, ma'am. About 16 years.

Thanks.

For what, son? For trying to understand.

How about you? Are you gonna try? Yes, sir. I'm gonna try.

No matter how this turns out, I don't wanna see your name on the books again.

You won't. I understand now. That's where we differ.

How do you mean? I never will.

The story you have just seen is true.

The names were changed to protect the innocent.

On April 3, an adjudication hearing...

was held in the Juvenile Court,

Superior Court of the State of California,

for the County of Los Angeles.

In a moment, the results of that hearing.

The petition filed by the County Probation Department was sustained,

and the subject was made a ward of the Juvenile Court.