Original subtitles

This is the city, Los Angeles, California.

The people living and working here

represent almost every culture common to civilized man.

Most of them contribute something worthwhile

to the community.

There are those who take more than they give.

They feed on the sorrows, ignorance,

and superstitions of others.

When they do, I go to work.

I carry a badge.

It was Tuesday, May 11th. It was warm in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch

out of Frauds Division, Bunko Section.

The boss is Captain Lambert.

My partner's Bill Gannon.

My name's Friday.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Well, how'd it go?

Convicted on all counts.

Sentencing is set for the 10th of next month.

You know, Cap, it's hard to figure.

- What's that, Gannon? - The way they keep trying.

Last month, this Paul Norman tried to juice Lt. Arabian.

Month before, that character from Fraud that tried.

They just won't learn.

You mean, they won't believe.

They really think every cop, prosecutor,

or judge has a price.

They've tried it here six times in the last ten months,

and they've been busted or run out of town

by their own people.

Well, we all know the reason.

The entire gypsy community is still in a state of flux

since that king of theirs died last January.

Quite a few, like Norman, have proclaimed themselves king,

but can't convince their people

they're powerful enough to hold the position,

and their kind of power is to convince the fortunetellers

they have good contacts with the courts,

with the prosecutors, or police.

And in the gypsy culture,

they have to show proof of these kinds of connections,

or at least make the fortunetellers believe they have them.

Joe and I have been going to their weddings,

funerals, and pomanas,

reading everything we can on gypsy culture.

I've got a note here to call a Dallas Andrews in San Francisco.

Says to see you first.

Yeah, she called this morning,

wanted to talk to Gypsy Crime Team.

Said she can supply information on gypsy bunkos,

wanted you to call her back.

Sounds like another one, doesn't it?

That's how they start: play informant.

And at the same time try to make you theirs.

I called Dallas Andrews in San Francisco.

She indicated that she had valuable information

regarding gypsy criminal activity in Los Angeles.

She said she was flying down to Los Angeles

the next day and wanted to meet.

We set it at the Canyon Restaurant in Hollywood.

Wednesday, May 12th, 12:30 p.m.

Bill and I met Dallas Andrews, as arranged.

Prior to the meeting, we checked her through CII

and found a record dating back to 1939,

when she received a 60-day sentence for vagrancy.

Since then, she'd been arrested for everything

from operating a business without a license

to grand theft bunko.

All arrests were in San Francisco.

A check with the San Francisco Police Department

revealed that she owned and operated

a fortunetelling parlor on Powell Street.

She had been in business there for the past five years

and was currently the subject of a grand theft investigation

by the San Francisco Bunko Squad.

She wasn't shy.

She got right to the point.

- It's my son-in-law Billy. - Billy Catcher.

His father called himself King of the Gypsies, didn't he?

That's right, Wesley Catcher, but he's dead now,

and it's Billy's right to take his place.

You help Billy, and he helps you.

You got the picture?

Not quite; paint a little more.

Now, don't be naive. It's this simple.

Billy collects rent from the readers,

but they have to think he's taken care of.

- Interested? - In what?

Money and stature.

You two look like the best cops in town.

Billy controls the number of fortuneteller locations

and keeps outsiders from coming in,

and you take credit for keeping the readers under control.

Now, look, we don't care how many gypsies hit town.

They commit a town, we arrest them.

- It's that simple. - That simple?

Oh, come on, Friday.

How many gypsy bunkos do you have in your unsolved file?

You mean, if we recognize Billy Catcher as king,

any time we get a complaint,

you turn the reader over for prosecution?

I mean, any time you get a beef, just let Billy know.

- He takes care of it from there. - Keep going.

If the reader gets a customer complaint,

Billy gets the money back from the reader

and turns it over to you.

Then you satisfy the customer.

The customer's usually happy to get half their money back.

The rest goes in your pocket.

Looks like a two-way street.

If some of the readers are holding out,

Catcher finds out from us when we get a complaint, right?

That's right.

Billy finds out who's not kicking in on rent

and gives them a fine,

along with getting the customer's money back.

How many locations paying rent to Catcher now?

Only six.

The Samson brothers have 58 paying like slot machines.

- What's their gig? - Samsons?

Well, they got most of their readers

believing they have the courts wrapped up

- and tied with a ribbon. - How do they manage that?

It's that lousy $25 fine for fortunetelling.

Why, that's no deterrent.

The readers just chalk it up to the juice

that the Samson brothers tell them

they have going with the courts.

And no gypsy wants probation. She'd rather have the fine.

Readers think the Samsons are keeping them

out of jail and off probation.

You know, the probation rap.

Part of the deal is the court says they can't run the cards.

Now, if they can't tell a fortune,

they can't hustle a buck!

So, you want Billy Catcher to show the readers

he has a better fix than the Samson brothers, right?

Now, you get the picture.

When Billy shows the readers

he can keep them from being busted,

then they pay him rent.

How do you figure to put the Samsons down?

We know where all their locations are.

I've got a list.

- I'll give it to you later. - Go ahead.

I've got a list of our six locations.

I'll also give you that later.

When the readers see Billy's spots aren't getting busted,

and the Samson boys' readers are,

they'll start swinging over to us.

We put the heat on the Samsons' locations

and leave your locations alone.

All 64 of them, eventually.

$200 a month rent and a piece of every big score.

Now, does that make you want to dance?

Well, let's put it this way, lady.

Yes?

We don't want to sit this one out.

3:42 p.m. We dropped Dallas Andrews off at her motel

and headed back to the office.

She was anxious to get the business started.

So were we.

4:10 p.m. We gave the Captain a rundown

on the meeting we had with Dallas Andrews.

He agreed she had made her first overture to bribery

and to stay with it until we had enough to prosecute.

There was another victim of the gypsy swindle

waiting in the squad room.

This is Fay Sager.

This is our Gypsy Crime Team:

Sergeant Friday, Officer Gannon.

Gypsy blessing. They got her for $15,000.

Mrs. Sager, these men will do what they can.

Thank you, Captain.

I'm so embarrassed about this.

This gypsy woman, she was so convincing.

Yes, ma'am, we understand.

Now will you tell us what happened?

Well, it started a little over three months ago

when my husband passed away.

We were married 47 years. God rest his soul.

Go ahead, ma'am. Well, I was reading

the classifieds in the newspaper,

and that's what got me started.

How's that, ma'am?

The ad, it said "Mother Maria Spiritual Reader,"

and I just thought she could help me.

- I was depressed and lonely. - Yes, ma'am.

I talked to her, Mother Maria, on the phone several times,

and finally, I drove out to her home.

She assured me she could help me.

What's this Mother Maria's address?

It's on Crenshaw, 7408 North.

It's a nice little home

and has a pretty patch of snapdragons

growing up beside the front porch

near the stoop, you know?

Yes, ma'am. Now, what about this Mother Maria?

Well, at first, she was very helpful

and understanding and made me feel so much better.

That was at first.

Do you want to tell us about the $15,000?

That's what she said was my problem, that $15,000.

It was from my husband's life insurance policy.

Oh, Sergeant Friday, I'm so embarrassed.

I just hope this doesn't get out.

We know how you feel. Would you go ahead, please?

Well, she said the money from the insurance policy

has the evil that brought on all my problems

and depression, you know?

Yes, ma'am. Now, how'd she prove the evil?

With an egg or tomato?

Why, it was an egg. How did you know?

Would you go ahead, please?

This is the embarrassing part. I'm so ashamed of myself.

Mother Maria told me to take all of my money out of the bank

and keep it under my pillow.

Then she told me to take a fresh egg

and place it on my stomach every night and sleep on the money.

Oh, I hope you officers don't think I'm a silly old fool.

It's happened to a lot of people.

Now, how long did you keep this up?

I slept with the egg and the money for two weeks.

That's how long Mother Maria told me to.

Then I took the egg and the money back to her

after the two weeks.

Oh, I was very careful I didn't break the egg.

Go ahead, please.

Well, I got to her house,

and she took the egg and wrapped it in a handkerchief.

Then she put it on the altar and chanted a blessing over it,

a gypsy blessing, like the Captain said.

When the blessing was over,

she put the egg and the handkerchief on the floor

and told me to step on it, and I did.

And when she opened the handkerchief,

there was something else in it besides the egg.

Why, yes.

She said it was some of the evil drawn from my body.

What did it look like, a lock of hair,

a piece of hamburger, or a chicken embryo?

Now that you mention it,

it did look like a small lock of black hair.

All right, go ahead, please.

Well, she said the egg could only take

a small part of the evil from my body

and that the money is what caused it,

the big evil, you know?

Yes, ma'am. What'd she do with the money?

Bury it in the cemetery, or flush it down the commode?

Oh, no.

She had me put it in this bag.

It belongs to Mother Maria,

and she gave me her very own special bag.

The bujo. Not used so often here.

What's that? A bujo, ma'am.

It's a gypsy con game. It's called a switch.

Oh.

Yes, well, she gave me this bag,

and we put all my money inside,

and she sewed it up with a big carpet needle,

told me to put it in my closet for six months.

That was to make all the evil go away.

So, I did it. That was two months ago.

What made you open the bag, Mrs. Sager?

Well, after two months of keeping the money in the closet,

I really didn't feel much better.

I was still kind of depressed.

So, I tried to contact Mother Maria

to ask her what I should do.

I found out she'd moved away.

There was another fortuneteller living in her house,

but she said she'd never heard of Mother Maria.

Do you know what her name is?

No, she just snapped me off

and slammed the door right in my face.

I didn't know what to do. I was half sick with worry,

and my stomach started to act up,

and I was just a nervous wreck.

So, you opened the bag?

Yes, sir.

I cut stitching and opened it right up.

I was going to put it all back in the bank.

Oh, just talking about it makes me want to cry.

Go on, please.

Newspaper, nothing in it but cut-up newspaper.

I feel so stupid, I could just cry.

What shall I do? Well, to start with,

you'll have to sign this crime report.

Yes, sir. I feel so foolish.

I won't have to testify in court or anything like that, will I?

I just couldn't face a courtroom full of people.

Well, now, a great many victims

of this type of swindle feel the same way you do,

and some do refuse to testify, but you want to, don't you?

You want this woman stopped.

You're right, Sergeant.

I'll just have to drum up my courage somehow.

She belongs in jail, where she can't hurt anyone else.

Well, we'll do what we can.

We want to thank you for coming in.

I don't suppose I'll ever see my money again.

The odds are you won't.

I just never knew about gypsies, I guess.

I never thought they were like this.

You thought they wore bandanas around their heads,

fancy beads around their necks,

laughed, and sang, and played accordions?

Maybe for a dollar or two, they'd run the cards

and tell your fortune, or maybe read your palm,

let you know how long you might expect to live?

A gay, happy bunch like in the movies.

I'm sad to say that's exactly the way I thought of them.

Well, now, maybe someplace in the world,

there are some like that, but we sure don't run into them.

I guess I didn't, either.

We completed the grand theft crime report

and had Mrs. Sager check the gypsy mug book for Mother Maria,

the fortuneteller that had stolen her $15,000.

5:32 p.m.

It took Mrs. Fay Sager 45 minutes

to find Mother Maria's mug shot in the gypsy book.

Mother Maria, also known as Sister Felicia,

Madame Zora, and her key name, Fatima Goldring.

Thursday, May 13th, 8:30 a.m.

We contacted Deputy District Attorney Bob Gray

at the Hall of Justice,

and we obtained a warrant charging grand theft

for the arrest of Mother Maria.

9:47 a.m. We returned to Parker Center

and filed a warrant in R & I.

We then had the warrant information teletyped

as an all-points bulletin.

We were aware that somewhere in the state,

gypsies had been known to have received teletype information.

10:50 a.m. We returned to the office

and brought the Captain up to date.

We then waited for the first call on the warrant

sent out for the arrest of Mother Maria.

We felt we wouldn't have to wait long.

11:10 a.m. Dallas Andrews called.

She wanted to meet as soon as possible

to introduce Billy Catcher

and talk to us about the arrest warrant

out for Mother Maria.

Somewhere in the state of California,

there was an information leak, and that leak had paid off.

Dallas Andrews knew about the warrant

ten minutes after it went out on the teletype wires.

Sounded like you did good.

Yeah, they want to meet, Vermont and Washington.

What was all that about the warrant for Mother Maria?

She said she'd make it worth my while if I could fix it.

They want to meet me alone.

Okay, Joe. How much money you got?

You know, that's the first time I'm glad it's not payday.

This continuity of evidence thing

kind of gets to be a hassle.

- 4.86. That's all you've got? - That's all.

You'd better invite him to dinner.

I should have his money.

What's it cost to be a bachelor?

Write it down, Bill, 4.86.

Make it easy for him, Joe.

They're not even trying to be careful.

They already think I'm a pushover.

Show them that bankroll of yours,

and they'll know it.

11:45 a.m. Bob Davis of the Electronics Section

Scientific Investigation Division,

installed a special tape recorder and microphones in our vehicle.

12:05 p.m. I drove out to Vermont and Washington

and picked up Dallas Andrews and Billy Catcher.

We agreed to talk in a deserted parking area

at the Greek Theater.

Bill covered in the Captain's car.

This okay?

Yeah, fine. Nobody's around.

Just as long as we aren't seen.

Can't afford to be seen. This is big business.

How does it feel to be a partner in big business, Friday?

I'll let you know when I am.

Okay, okay. There's no rush.

Give him the list, Dallas.

Now, that top sheet is the 58 fortunetellers

that belongs to the Samson brothers,

the ones you're gonna put the heat on?

- What's this other list? - Those are my spots.

You make sure they're left alone, all six of them.

They're worth 200 a month each right now,

plus a piece of every big score.

I see you've got a reader named Madame Flora here.

Yeah, what about her?

Well, the address is North Crenshaw.

Wasn't that Mother Maria's spot?

Yeah, Mother Maria's one of mine.

After that score for 15,000, I moved her.

You know the customer went back looking for her, don't you?

- I thought she would. - That's why I had her moved.

She's operating in that spot on Florence now,

changed her name, too.

You're going backwards, Catcher.

Madame Zora, that's one of her old aliases.

So what? You gonna pick her up, Friday?

Well, you know the teletype for her arrest is on the wires.

No, we don't know anything,

but we've got ten grand that says you can fix it.

What do you think it'll take to satisfy the customer?

Well, she's afraid to testify.

She'd probably be happy getting back five or six thousand.

There you go, Friday!

You're gettin' to be a regular financial wizard, aren't you?

If I stay out of jail.

You'll get ten grand for the fix.

The customer's happy getting five back.

That leaves 5,000 in your pocket.

Now, how are you gonna go to jail,

unless your partner arrests you?

By the way, where is he?

You wanted to meet with me, didn't you?

Mm-hm, one's company, two's a crowd.

You take care of him any way you see fit.

What if I can't get that warrant fixed?

Well, then we move Mother Maria out of state.

That's right, but I don't want it to come to that.

This is our chance to show Samson's people

how much power we've got.

You get Mother Maria off the hook,

and we'll start getting the Samson spots paying rent to us,

and you start getting rich.

I had this made up for you at my jewelers.

It's a $20 gold piece set in a money clip

and something clipped to it.

What's this for?

Mother Maria's future, Friday.

- Yeah? - And ours.

For the next 45 minutes,

Dallas Andrews and Billy Catcher

laid out their plans in fine detail.

I was to protect their fortunetelling locations

and harass the others until we had full control

of all fortunetelling and gypsy bunko operations in the city.

For this, I was to receive

$100 each month for each location.

The meeting resulted in bribe money amounting to $11,000.

The money clip contained $11,000

in thousand-dollar bills:

1,000 down payment for the operation,

10,000 to keep Mother Maria out of jail.

We returned to Parker Center,

removed the tape recording from our vehicle,

and headed up for the office.

Well, how'd it go?

11,000 worth so far.

$11,000. That's it, huh?

- Well, it'd better not be. - Huh?

I started with this 4.86.

We booked the $11,000, along with the tape recording

and the money clip as evidence.

Bill and I finished out the day

writing reports for presentation

to the District Attorney's Office the next morning.

Friday, May 14th, 8:45 a.m.

Officer Mike Lansroni, the Patrol Bureau Vice Coordinator,

had arranged for 15 teams

made up of male and female officers

to operate fortunetelling locations

contained on both lists furnished by Dallas Andrews.

Because of a shortage in manpower,

Bill was assigned with policewoman Jean Wesley.

I was assigned with policewoman Dorothy Miller

to operate the location at 1247 South Florence,

Mother Maria's current location.

9:33 a.m. We arrived at the fortunetellers location.

I provided Policewoman Miller

with a mug shot of Mother Maria.

She was instructed to signal if Mother Maria was present.

If she was not present,

Dorothy Miller was to operate the gypsy

for violation of Section 43.30

of the Los Angeles Municipal Code, fortunetelling.

She was then to give an alternate signal.

Thirty minutes later,

Policewoman Miller came out of the location

and gave the alternate signal.

- You got enough? - What is this?

You're under arrest for fortunetelling.

Joe, I thought I heard someone moving around in the back

while I was in there, but I couldn't be sure.

All right, Mother Maria, or whatever your name is,

come on out of there!

Police officer.

- I am Madame Zora! - Yeah, that's today.

There's a warrant for your arrest, charging grand theft.

You're wrong.

That's all been taken care of.

You're under arrest for grand theft bunko.

Now, you each have the right to remain silent,

and if you give up the right to remain silent,

anything you say can and will be used against you

in a court of law.

And you have the right to speak with an attorney

and to have an attorney present during questioning.

And if you so desire and cannot afford one,

an attorney will be appointed for you

without any charge before questioning.

Now, do you each understand?

I understand what you said.

I also understand I've got constitutional rights

to exercise my religion,

and my religion is telling fortunes.

I believe you, lady.

You've got a big enough collection plate.

Now, suppose you give me your name.

Madame Mona, mystic greeter of the known and unknown.

Do you understand?

I understand, but I'm telling you,

you're making a big mistake.

That's all been taken care of.

There ain't no warrant out for me.

It's been taken care of!

What makes you think it's been taken care of?

Look, buster, you'd better turn me loose right now,

or you're in big trouble.

Where's the big trouble gonna come from?

From a cop named Sergeant Friday, that's who.

It's all been taken care of.

Hmph.

Madame Zora, Madame Zora, it's me, Katy Wilson.

Who is this woman? How should I know?

I've never seen her before in my life.

Where are you going? We have an appointment.

I've got the money and the egg right here,

just like you said.

I'm a police officer, ma'am. Can I help you?

Oh, no, sir.

I have an appointment with Madame Zora there.

She's going to help me.

Yes, ma'am, right out of your money.

Mrs. Katy Wilson was the current customer of Mother Maria.

She had $45,000 in her possession

and was ready to turn it all over to rid herself of evil.

I informed her of the gypsy's method of operation

and suggested she put her money back in the bank.

After booking the two fortunetellers

at the county women's jail,

Dorothy Miller and I returned to the office.

We scored pretty good, Joe.

So did we.

Jean here made a doubleheader.

Two of them gave her a reading at the same time.

So far, 28 readers have been busted,

but all the teams haven't reported in yet.

There'll be more. Friday.

- Yes, sir? - I'll say one thing, Joe.

When you make a friend, you really make one.

Well, hello there, Sergeant!

We told the Captain here we wanted to talk to you.

Oh, that's all right. You can talk in front of him.

Oh, well, why didn't you tell us?

You just asked me.

That makes sense, Billy.

But you should've told us before.

We could've had things on the road by now,

instead of waiting for you.

We've been trying to reach you all day, Friday,

called you three times.

- Is that so? - What happened?

- What do you mean? - Mother Maria.

Did you know some knucklehead busted her?

I knew.

You sure it's safe to talk in front of him?

Safe as you'll ever be.

Well, what about Mother Maria?

She's in jail.

Who's the baldhead that ran her in?

- Me. - What'd you do that for?

She broke the law.

Now, wait a minute.

That wasn't our understanding.

We gave you $11,000 to see that didn't happen, didn't we?

That's right.

A lot of our places got hit, too, along with Samson's.

That's what we're doing here!

Are you working some kind of new system,

I mean, hitting the Samsons and us, too?

No, it's an old system.

Well, I wish you'd let us in on it!

Be glad to.

It's called attempting to bribe a police officer.

You trying to make us look bad in front of the Captain?

And after we came in here of our own freewill.

I can promise you one thing.

I wish you would!

You're not gonna walk out the same way.

The suspects were found guilty

of offering a bribe to a police officer,

a felony, which is punishable by imprisonment in the state prison

for not less than one nor more than 14 years.

The suspect was found guilty of grand theft.

Grand theft is punishable by imprisonment

in the county jail for not more than one year

or in the state prison for not more than ten years.