Original subtitles

This is the city Los Angeles, California.

With over 5,600 Little League Baseball teams in the city,

its youngsters have a love for the game.

After 69 years in Brooklyn, the Dodger Baseball team came west.

They chose Los Angeles for their new home

and became the first Major League team on the West Coast.

Their new stadium was built to accommodate 56,000 fans.

In the first year in Dodger Stadium,

2,750,000 people watched the club play,

a new Major League attendance record.

Baseball is the sport of Americans.

It teaches youngsters fair play.

Sometimes they never seem to learn the lesson.

When they don't, I go to work.

I carry a badge.

The story you are about you see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

It was Friday, January 17th.

It was sunny in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch out of Juvenile Division.

The boss is Captain Morris.

My partner is Bill Gannon.

My name is Friday.

Juvenile Division is the ear of society tuned to the cries of children.

It's a selective ear.

There are many voices, many cries.

Some are normal.

In the natural course of events, kids sound off when they're hungry, wet,

or just plain bored.

But sometimes they cry for other reasons,

sinister reasons especially when their bones

have been broken, when they're starved,

when they're beaten, or when they're burned.

Their cries of pain are heard by their parents but it doesn't seem to matter.

It's their parents who caused them.

Will you excuse me, Mrs. Sadler? I'll be in the Captain's office.

- It looks like he's got something for us. - Right.

Oh, dear God. I had no idea.

Not many people have, Mrs. Sadler.

That's why we welcome the opportunity to talk to clubs like yours.

Kids need all the friends they can find.

These pictures, it's just unbelievable.

- Yes, ma'am. - How much of this goes on?

Too much Mrs. Sadler.

In Los Angeles alone, there were more than 1,000 cases of

abused or neglected children reported last year.

But they're so tiny.

That's why we hear about them. They cry.

Somebody gets worried or annoyed and calls us.

The older ones aren't so fortunate.

I don't understand.

Well, older children are usually bewildered and ashamed.

They rarely tell anyone and they cry in private. Nobody hears them.

But what kind of people would do these things?

Parents, Mrs. Sadler, rich, poor, privileged, underprivileged.

Usually, they're quite young themselves.

Why? I mean what excuses could they possibly author?

That baby there, 22 months old, he wet the bed.

Is he dead?

Yes, ma'am, acute uremia.

Do you see that thread?

His father did that to him.

And this one, that little four-year-old,

he tried to light a cigarette.

His mother punished him by holding his hand over a gas flame for one full minute.

Hideous.

The next one, four months old, little girl, she cried a lot.

Her father threw her against the wall.

She lived but she hasn't made one sound since.

Now, Mrs. Sadler, there's no way to gloss it over or to make it more palatable.

We tell it like it is, complete with illustrations.

It's a strong presentation.

Thank you, but I have no intention of

withdrawing the invitation to address our club.

I want the members to know and to be as shocked and appalled as I am.

It's like some terrible disease that I never knew existed.

It is a disease, Mrs. Sadler, a pediatric disease.

The symptoms are battered children.

That's how it got the name, the battered child syndrome.

Doctors believe it may cause more deaths than leukemia, muscular dystrophy,

even automobile accidents.

So you can see that the cases we hear about are

a small minority of those that actually occur.

But are there laws to protect children?

Yes, ma'am, there are then we're eager to enforce

them when we know there's been a violation

but that's our problem.

Who's going to make the complaint, the child?

Usually, the victims are less than three years old.

They file their complaints with tears, the only way they know how.

As a rule, that's why they got the beating in the first place.

- They cried. - But what can be done?

That's up to you, me, all of us.

If you suspect that a child is being mistreated,

the police are available 24 hours a day to investigate.

Now, we're empowered to place the children in protective custody and we can file

criminal complaints against the abusers.

Our district attorney prosecutes them vigorously.

But first, we got to know about the violations.

The answer, Mrs. Sadler, is for normal adults

to love all children as they love their own.

These sick parents, can't their children be taken from them?

Yes, ma'am, they can by the Juvenile Court.

It's harsh but without that power there

wouldn't be any effective protection for children.

- There's only one problem. - What's that?

Foster homes. There aren't enough to go around.

Pardon me, Mrs. Sadler. Joe, we had a call, a missing boy.

- Left for school this morning, never got there. - Truant?

It doesn't look like it.

A black and white checked the area and found

the boy's school books near the bus stop.

They turn anything else?

A bloody handkerchief.

Oh, no.

I'll see you on the 22nd, Mrs. Sadler, 12:30 sharp.

Thank you so much.

I'd suggest you read this pamphlet, The Battered Child.

It's put out by District Attorney Eva Younger.

We'll give you some more ideas about how you can help.

- Thank you. - Yes, ma'am.

They'll be glad to send copies for your members as well.

The missing boy, I wonder what happened.

So do we, Mrs. Sadler.

You seem to have a little bit of everything, don't you?

If it concerns a child, yes, ma'am.

Now, would you like us to show you the way out?

I think I'd like to sit here for a little longer, if you don't mind.

You stay as long as you like, Mrs. Sadler.

Thank you.

The missing boy, Chris Devon, lived in the Hollywood Hills

and attended Eastwood Elementary School.

11:20 a.m.

We drove out to the Devon home.

11:40 a.m.

Officer John McKee from Central Division was waiting for us.

He told us he had found the blood stained

handkerchief and the school books at the bus

stop behind some shrubbery.

He had checked with the residents in the area.

None of them had seen anything unusual.

We asked McKee to continue checking and if he turned anything, we would be here at

the Devon home or at Eastwood Elementary School.

11:50 a.m.

We talked with the boy's mother, Mrs. Marian Devon.

There wasn't a thing out of the ordinary.

Chris was feeling fine. I got him up.

Gave him his breakfast and had him at the bus stop a quarter past 8:00.

Are you sure you haven't overlooked anything?

What do you mean?

Something Chris might have said, something he wanted to do maybe?

Nothing. I sent him off to school and he didn't arrive.

That's all I know.

Were you notified by the school, Mrs. Devon?

Yes, sir.

Mrs. Lewis found just as I was leaving for work.

She's the principal.

She said the bus driver told her that Chris never got on the bus.

Were there other kids at that stop?

Of course, nearly a dozen.

They all saw Chris but nobody knows he didn't leave.

Yeah, that could happen.

Kids do a lot of fooling around at a bus stop.

I thought he might have fallen or been knocked down.

Streets very steep, you know.

Did you walk down to the bus stop after the principal called?

I walked all the way to school.

I couldn't find him. Now, I don't know what to do.

Ma'am...

I should have been at the office hours ago.

I just can't afford to lose this job.

Where's the boy's father, Mrs. Devon?

He doesn't live here. We're divorced.

May we have his address please?

Chris is in my custody. No reason to involve his father.

We'd like to have his address if we could. It's

possible the boy may have gone to see his father.

It happens sometimes when parents are divorced especially with boys.

Chris wouldn't know where to find him.

But he could try, couldn't he?

- There's another possibility, Mrs. Devon. - What?

Maybe his father found Chris.

His name is Lawrence Devon.

He's an electronics engineer when he can hold down a job, moves all the time.

Right now he's in Burbank.

18603 Fields Avenue, a hotel. Just look for the dirty clothes.

I beg your pardon?

Larry, perfectly happy to wear the same

shirt two or three days in a row, maybe more.

Just filthy. I never could understand it.

- Yes, ma'am. - Chris would be the same way.

Only I see to that, I want you to know.

What was he wearing today, Mrs. Devon?

- Chris? - Yes, ma'am, that's right.

A white over a blue and white striped t-shirt.

He was wearing jeans and white sneakers.

Clean, everything clean including his handkerchief.

The policeman showed it to me, embroidered C in one corner.

It belonged to Chris all right.

It may not mean a thing, Mrs. Devon.

Brand new handkerchief.

I'll probably never get that blood out.

12:30 p.m.

Bill and I talked to Mrs. Lewis, Principal of Eastwood Elementary School.

We asked her about Chris Devon's school background and who his friends were.

She said Chris had one close friend, a boy named Andy Fulkerson.

Mrs. Lewis had him sent to her office.

We're police officers, son.

I didn't do nothing wrong.

We know that, Andy. But we need a little help, okay?

- Maybe. - You're a pretty good friend of Chris Devon's, aren't you?

- I guess so. - Well, now, Chris didn't get on the school bus this morning.

- Do you know where he is? - No, sir.

But you saw him this morning?

At the bus stop maybe?

Oh, yeah, I saw him.

And you talked to him?

A little bit, I guess.

Well, what did he have to say?

He's going away.

Did he say where he was going?

I'm not supposed to tell.

Tell us, son. It's important.

- Hi, Chris. - Hi, Andy.

Here's your missing boy.

Where did you find him?

An old shell of a car in a vacant lot about two blocks from the bus stop.

The car looked like it had been made into a kid's clubhouse. I found the boy inside.

- He told me he was tired and he was trying to sleep. - Yeah, anything else?

As I was getting the boy out of the car, I noticed blood stains on his shirt.

Somebody really made a mess out of his back.

All right, son, turn around.

Come on, son.

It's nothing. I just fell down.

Who did this to you, son?

Tell us how you got those welts, boy. Who beat you?

He needs treatment right away, Joe.

Yeah, and so does whoever did this.

1:25 p.m.

We drove Chris Devon to Central Receiving Hospital.

The boy had been severely beaten.

A number of the wounds on his back and his buttocks had bled profusely.

The boy has been flawed.

Yes, sir, that's the way we made it.

About a dozen lashes, four of them broke the skin.

Any indication it might have happened before?

No surface signs.

Of course, I'd have to do X-rays to determine

if he's had previous skeletal injuries.

The boy says he hasn't, by the way.

He also said he fell down the hillside.

Yeah, he told me that too.

Any idea what he was whipped with?

Yes. I'd say an electrical appliance cord, iron or wall phone line maybe.

- Are you sure, doc? - I'd bet on it.

The welts show kind of a splayed pattern

and I found cloth threads is several wounds.

He'll be all right though, won't he?

Now, his wounds will heal and the welts will fade.

But emotional scars, I couldn't say.

The boy's mental castle is pretty well caved in.

We'll want those threads, doc.

Yeah I put them in this envelope for you.

I saw the same thing about three years ago.

- Is that so? - On a corpse, a two-year-old girl.

In this case though, the boy is healthy and old enough to recover.

Frankly, it's not this beating I'm worried about.

- Yeah, we know. - Right.

It's the next one.

2:10 p.m.

We notified Mrs. Devon at her office that Chris had been found

but that he would remain at Juvenile Division

until we investigated the injuries he'd sustained.

She was also informed that we suspect that the injuries had occurred from other than

accidental means.

Mrs. Devon said she would be unable to leave her office until after four o'clock.

She would then come to Georgia Street Juvenile.

2:40 p.m.

We drove out to see the boy's father, Lawrence Devon, at his hotel in Burbank.

I can give you three minutes. I'm late for my plane now. That's right, gentlemen.

I'm leaving town. I've had it right up to my eyeballs.

- Where are you going? - Until I run out of road.

If that's not far enough, I may try the South Pole.

Now, what's your problem?

It's about your son, Mr. Devon.

Chris? What's he done?

It's what was done to him.

What happened to Chris?

Your wife, she called us this morning. Chris didn't show up at school.

He was found hiding on some vacant property in an old car.

- Is he all right? - He'd been whipped with an electric light cord.

His back is pretty badly cut up.

- Marian. - I beg your pardon?

Marian, Chris' mother. Oh, she finally flipped.

Is Mrs. Devon in the habit of beating the boy?

Beating? No, but I've seen her give him some pretty healthy whacks.

Used to cause beautiful arguments.

Between you and your wife?

Yeah. Chris was a normal kid.

That's all that was wrong but Marian rode him like a drill Sergeant.

"Change your shirt, take off your clothes, wash your face, put your toys away."

- You know what I mean? - How long since you've seen the boy, Mr. Devon?

Six months. Know where I saw him then? In a courtroom.

- How was that? - Two years now we've been divorced.

I'm supposed to have Chris every other weekend.

Four days a month in a nice... Only one thing though,

Chris is always sick the weekend he's supposed to spend with me. Get the point?

- Yes, sir, I do. - Good old Marian, crazy like a fox but try to prove it.

- Did you try, Mr. Devon? - How do you think I was in court?

And you know what happened?

The same judge who gave Marian our divorce called me vindictive.

He cut my visitation rights to two days instead of four. Beautiful, huh?

- Yeah. - But that's not all.

In the last six months, thanks to good old Marian. I've lost three jobs.

The last one was at ten o'clock this morning

so I'm checking a tour, boys. I'm sorry.

Well what happened? How did your wife cause you three jobs?

I pay alimony, okay, a nice fat percentage of my income.

The more I make the more Marian gets.

That I don't mind but bosses are funny.

They take a dim view of ex-wives calling up and demanding raises for ex-husbands.

So bing, bing, bing, there go the jobs.

Good jobs at good dough.

Well, the next time she's going to have to call my boss long-distance.

How does Chris keep in touch, Mr. Devon?

Look, Officer, I'm telling you. I've had all I can take.

Almost seven years of if, pal, day and night.

Her always saying what a bum I am.

I smoke. I have a few drinks. I'm filthy. I forget to change my shirts.

I put my feet on the couch.

But mostly, I love my kid, and I don't love her anymore.

Throw me right up the wall, boys. She's nuts.

That's all there is to it, so adios.

Now, let's see. Am I forgetting anything?

Yes, sir, your son.

4:30 p.m.

We returned to Juvenile Division. Mrs. Devon was waiting for us.

Where's Chris?

Is he all right?

Like I told you on the telephone, Mrs. Devon,

the boy sustained some injuries on his back.

Now, in themselves they're not too serious.

What happened? Do you know?

That's what we wanted to ask you, Mrs. Devon.

Why? I don't understand. How could I know?

I haven't seen Chris since this morning.

It appears he was hurt last night.

I don't neglect my son, Sergeant. I want you to know that.

I have never neglected him.

Of course, it must have been those boys, those filthy boys.

Did he tell you about it?

No, ma'am, he didn't.

It was after school yesterday.

He'd been out playing somewhere in an old wrecked car.

- Yes, ma'am. - When he came in I could see he'd been crying.

When I asked why, he said some older boys had hurt him.

Did you check for injuries?

No. I guess I should have, shouldn't I?

You didn't look at his back?

He assured me it was nothing serious.

Why? Is there something wrong with his back?

Yes, ma'am. He was whipped.

Oh, I feel just terrible about this. You must think I'm a bad mother.

I'm not really, you know. It's not easy bringing up a boy alone.

I do the best I can to be mother and father both.

But it's not easy.

Yes, ma'am, we know.

I don't neglect my son, Sergeant.

I want you to know that. I've never neglected him.

We didn't think you have, Mrs. Devon.

May I take him home now?

No, ma'am, not yet.

But I told you what happened.

So did Chris.

He doesn't tell it the same way.

Then bring him in.

Let's just ask him.

Hi, mom.

Chris, darling, why didn't you tell mommy you were hurt?

I could have taken care of it.

Are you mad at me?

Of course not, dear. Just worried. That's all.

- Are you feeling better, son? - Yes, sir.

Then maybe you'd like to tell us now what really happened last night.

Sure. Well, I was in that old car when these guys came along.

They were all bigger than me and they said they were going to sell the car for junk.

I tried to stop them and then they started hitting me on the back.

That's how you got those welts, huh?

Yes, sir. I just said I fell but I didn't.

Who were the boys, Chris?

I don't know. I never saw them before. They go to some other school.

- How many were there? - I guess about four or five.

What did they hit you with, Chris?

A big stick, like a branch off a tree.

Uh-huh. Then what happened?

They told me to get away from that car and never come back.

Does that agree with what he told you, Mrs. Devon?

He didn't go into that much detail, frankly.

Now, can I go home?

- I'm afraid not, son. - Why can't he go home?

I'll tell you why, Mrs. Devon. Because we still haven't got the truth here.

You've been lying, haven't you, son?

Now, we know you weren't whipped with a tree branch, Chris. What was it?

- I don't know. - An electric cord maybe?

I guess so but it didn't hurt much.

Not even last night?

Maybe I'm getting used to it.

- Well, Mrs. Devon. - I told him to lie.

- You did? - I can explain it.

Suppose you do that, lady, but there's just one thing.

- Yes? - This time I want the truth.

Marian Devon was advised of her rights.

She waived the presence of an attorney during questioning.

You mean you are arresting me?

Right now, Mrs. Devon.

I don't believe it. This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of.

Is it, Mrs. Devon?

You whipped the boy viciously then you told him to lie about it.

I punished the boy then I realized he'd be embarrassed

if his friends found out he'd been disciplined.

That's all that happened.

He misbehaved and he was disciplined.

How did he misbehave?

- What difference does that make? - Tell us, Mrs. Devon.

What could a nine-year-old child do that

calls for the kind of punishment you gave him?

Do you have children?

I have, Mrs. Devon. Four boys.

And you've never had to punish them.

Punishing is one thing, battering is something else.

The boy made a mess in the front room.

It wasn't the first time I have, you know, and I warned him about it

and warned him about it. I had to do something.

As people who work with juveniles,

I think you men could understand any effort to bring up children properly.

If more parents discipline their kids when they needed it, there'd be a lot of fewer

hippies and drug users, wouldn't there?

Very likely.

I won't say I didn't get carried away.

Maybe I did punish Chris too severely.

I just don't know. It's hard to judge. We all make mistakes.

- Yes, ma'am. - Don't forget one thing.

I've had to do it by myself.

Chris' father deserted us, you know, left us high and dry.

Not entirely, Mrs. Devon. He pays alimony and child support.

So you've talked to the great Larry Devon?

Yes, ma'am, we talked to a man who would like to see more of his son.

Not a chance. He's bad for the boy.

Did Larry tell you he was leaving town?

Well, he is, you know.

And you can bet that when he does, that's the end of it.

No more payments. He's as much as I said so.

There's the criminal. There's the one to blame for all this.

But choose to swing the electric cord.

It was punishment, deserved punishment.

Tell me something, Mrs. Devon. Who's back did you swing at?

What?

Your son's or your husband's?

5:00 p.m.

Bill and I met with Captain Jack Morris.

Looks like a good case. Take it downtown so we can get a complaint.

Yes, sir.

Book the woman under 273 DPC. It's not a judgment area.

She committed a felony.

- What do you think the chances are for conviction? - I doubt it we'll get one.

The DA will press and press hard but the child

and the parent don't seem to be estranged.

- You know the court. - Yes, sir.

The judge will try to preserve the family unit.

You don't agree with that, huh?

Yes, sir, up to a point.

But not on this one.

Monday, January 20th.

The Juvenile Court, Judge Crosson presiding,

sustained the petition that Chris Devon was a battered child

and came under the provisions of 600B WIC.

A date was set for a dispositional hearing.

- Just in talking to the skipper. - Yeah.

Marian Devon had a preliminary hearing.

What did she plead?

Guilty, probation three years provided she gets psychiatric help.

- It figured didn't. - When is the boy's hearing?

The 25th. I'm going to be there.

- The old man won't like it. - I know.

We've got a heavy workload and there's nothing you can do at that hearing.

Yes, sir, I know that.

Then why are you going?

- I'd just like to, Captain. - Why?

You know what the outcome is going to be and you've done all you can for that boy.

- Now, isn't that right? - Yes, sir, that's right.

But you're still going down to that courthouse just the same, is that right?

Yes, sir, like you've done a hundred times.

January 25th, 2:30 p.m.

The dispositional hearing on Chris Devon lasted one hour.

Judge Frederick Crosson, again, presiding.

Sergeant Friday.

Your Honor.

- I noticed you sitting in the back of the room. - Yes, sir.

Whenever I see an investigator in my courtroom

when he hasn't been called I know it can only

mean two things, his captain didn't send him and he's involved.

Yes, sir, I guess I am on this one.

Probation office's sociological report,

the boy's father out of the country, boy needs a mother.

The only way I could go.

- I had to return him to her. - Yes, sir, I know that.

How many abuse cases do you handle personally, two or three dozen a year?

I hear three times that many in a matter of months.

You enforce the law, I try to administer it.

Many times it's not easy, is it?

No, Your Honor, it isn't.

A small consolation, Joe, but you did your job

and I'd like to think I did mine the best we

knew how... properly under the law for the people

and that's who we work for.

- Yes, sir. - Good afternoon, Joe.

Good afternoon, Your Honor.

- Didn't quite work out the way you thought it would, did it? - Yes, ma'am.

Yes, I suppose it did at that. You've put me

through the worst embarrassment of my life.

You've caused me to lose time from work, treating me like a common criminal.

And I saw you talking to the judge.

What were you trying to do, getting him to reverse his decision?

- No, ma'am. - What were you doing here?

Still trying to intimidate me, trying to further humiliate me in front of my son?

- No, ma'am. - You know what really sickens me?

I have to continue to pay your salary.

And I want to continue to earn it, Mrs. Devon.

Is that right?

The next time we get a report of even a loud voice at your address,

I'm going to be there leaning on your doorbell.

Is that a threat, Sergeant?

No, Mrs. Devon. That's a promise.