Original subtitles

Morphine?

So much morphine

he was in no condition to defend himself.

Are you accusing me of doping my own fighter?

Does that surprise you, Jarreau?

You were in his corner.

You must have known about it.

What are you trying to say?

I'll tell you what I'm trying to say.

I'm trying to say your trainer

fed McGrath morphine so you could make a few lousy bucks.

When the kid died, you had the trainer rubbed out

so he couldn't talk.

Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Harold J. Stone,

John Crawford and Richard Karlan.

With special guest star Viveca Lindfors.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

The Chicago Sports Arena in July 1931

was like a half hundred

other boxing rings throughout America.

A place where tough young animals from reform schools

and rotting tenements were willing

to sacrifice their blood for a chance

to lick the twin phantoms of poverty and obscurity.

It hardly mattered that, in the process,

the Marquis of Queensbury got only lip service

and that the men who got the big payoffs

fought with machine guns instead of gloves.

In the ring, Joey McGrath, a young man on the way up,

23 knockouts in 25 fights,

a picture fighter with all the moves,

a boy that the sports writers have tabbed

as the next light heavyweight champion of the world,

but tonight, Joey McGrath is on his way out.

What's the matter with you?

I'll be all right.

I just had a couple... couple of bad rounds.

Bad rounds?

You've been a sitting duck ever since the fifth.

What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?

Leave me alone.

I'm doing the best I can.

Are you?

I've been around a long time, Joey.

I can smell a fix a mile away.

A fix?

Yeah, that bum's been carrying you

for three rounds.

You're a liar. Am I?

Then get out there and prove it.

Stop it! Stop It!

After 17 seconds,

in round number nine, the winner by knockout:

Rocky Pierson!

All right, let us through, please.

Blinky? Shut up.

But what if he...? I mean...

Shut up, I tell you.

Ah, the kid's tough.

You couldn't kill him with an axe.

Come on, let's get out of here.

Hey, how is he?

He ain't good.

I'll call the boss.

Come on, Joey.

Speak to me, Joey.

I... I'm sorry. I... Sorry.

Come on now, what about this rumor that it's fixed?

Hello, Barney.

How's, uh... how's the boy?

You got to him, Acropolis, didn't you?

You finally got to one of my fighters.

Now, what are you talking about?

Did he have to go nine rounds

for you bloodsuckers to get your money out?

Your boy ran out of gas, Barney.

Don't come crying to me

if your fighters can't pace themselves.

You fixed it all the way.

You listen to me, Jarreau,

and you listen good.

You've got a big imagination,

and an even bigger mouth,

and people with big mouths

have been known to get hurt.

McGrath is dead.

All right, so he's dead.

It happens.

Does it?

Somebody pays him not to defend himself,

then they tell Pierson to hit him

with everything he's got.

Is that an accident in your book, Acropolis,

or is it murder?

The boss says to stick around.

Says he wants a report.

You can give it to him now.

McGrath is dead,

and Jarreau is screaming fix.

Everybody's gone, Mr. Jarreau.

They're turning out the lights.

Go home, Monk.

It's not your fault, Mr. Jarreau.

It's the chance a guy takes.

♪ ♪

What's the matter with you?

You've been a sitting duck ever since the fifth.

What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?

McGRATH: I'm doing the best I can.

I gave you a message tonight, Barney,

but I got the feeling you weren't listening,

so I'm giving it to you again.

This is official, right from the top.

McGrath's death was accidental.

You're a liar.

He got killed because he fell apart

when he started to take some punishment.

I hope you do shoot off your mouth, Jarreau.

Then they'll let me fix you for good.

The morning papers carried reports of the autopsy

demanded by the State Athletic Commission

and carried out by the coroner's office.

To those who had been present at the fight,

the tragedy presented a unique opportunity

for armchair analysis.

I tell you, I knew the guy was dead

the moment the punch landed

You could hear it all over the stadium.

I never saw such a fight.

They was the two hardest punches I ever seen.

Excuse me.

Yeah, what is it?

I was told I might find Mr. Ness here.

Over there. Thank you.

"and the death of Joey McGrath

"is one more black mark against a sport riddled

"with corruption and controlled

by criminal elements."

The fight game is like the weather.

Everybody talks about it,

but nobody ever does anything.

Don't you think it's time someone

did do something about it, Mr. Ness?

This is Mr. Ness.

Oh... my name is Peabody.

Won't you sit down, Mr. Peabody?

Thank you.

I came, uh, about this.

Mr. Peabody, before we waste any of your time,

perhaps I'd better explain that fights

come under the control of the State Athletic Commission.

Federal officers have no jurisdiction.

You have jurisdiction over narcotics, don't you?

Narcotics?

I work in the coroner's lab, Mr. Ness.

First thing we do when a body is brought in,

if the cause of death was unnatural,

is to take a blood sample.

Yes?

Somebody took a sample of McGrath's blood

when the body was brought in last night.

I ran a test on it this morning when I came to work.

Mr. Ness, McGrath's body was loaded with morphine.

You're sure?

Here's a copy of the analysis.

Morphine is not a stimulant.

It's a depressant.

Why would McGrath take a drug

that would slow down his reflexes

in an important fight like this?

That's a very interesting question, Mr. Peabody.

And why didn't the results of my blood analysis show up

on the autopsy report?

Didn't they? No.

Under blood analysis, it said, "Blood content normal."

Thanks, Mr. Peabody.

We'll look into it.

May I keep this?

Certainly.

It was the morphine that beat him, you know?

He was a splendid fighter.

Splendid.

Lee, finish your coffee.

We're going for a ride.

Where to?

County Coroner's Office.

It ought to be very interesting to hear

why one of the county medical examiners

considers morphine a normal ingredient

of the human bloodstream.

Eliot Ness had gone directly

to the office of the county coroner,

whose records revealed that a Dr. William A. Voyt,

one of several medical examiners

on the coroner's staff, had been assigned

to perform the autopsy on the body of Joey McGrath.

Did you personally certify

McGrath's death was due to a cerebral hemorrhage?

Yes.

No contributory factors?

Well, there was some talk

of his being overcome by the heat,

but that's something

that wouldn't show up on postmortem analysis.

I'm talking about something

that would show up on postmortem analysis.

Such as what?

Such as a considerable quantity of morphine

in the fighter's bloodstream.

I can subpoena the lab reports, Doctor.

Well, Mr. Ness, I'm sure, they'll be no necessity

for anything as drastic as a subpoena.

If a mistake has been made... Mistake?!

What else could it be?

I'll check it out and call you immediately.

Thank you.

He's scared to death.

He's got a right to be.

Falsifying an autopsy report is a criminal offense.

Lay it all off.

Gallant Fox is a shoe-in.

Yeah, the seventh's okay.

Here are the results from Caliente.

We win a packet on Amerok.

Let's have it.

The rest is still coming in.

Take it over there.

Hello?

Acropolis?

Yeah. Who's this?

It-It's Voyt.

I told you not to call me here unless it was an emergency.

Eliot Ness just left here.

What?!

He-He found out about the morphine.

What'd you tell him?

What could I tell him?

I said if a mistake had been made,

I'd see that it would be rectified.

I told you this was too risky.

Get a hold of yourself.

But what if Ness starts digging?

I'll fix it so he doesn't find out anything.

And Voyt, don't lose control of your tongue.

Remember,

you've already got one foot in the morgue.

Who was that?

Oh, that was the fellow who, uh, did the autopsy on McGrath.

And?

Eliot Ness just left his office.

Ness?

He found out about the morphine.

Rudy, I thought I had the whole thing fixed.

Look, I got the autopsy report.

You can see for yourself... it's clean!

Did you get to anyone else?

I didn't have time!

You didn't have time.

You got to one miserable little medical examiner,

and you expected the fix to stay in, hmm?

But Rudy, I couldn't fix the whole coroner's staff.

Then McGrath's body should never

have reached the morgue!

Do you know the trouble we went to

to make an unsuspecting patsy out of Barney Jarreau?

Do you know how long it took

before we got Herbie in a position

to dope one of Jarreau's fighters?!

And do you know what it was all leading up to?

The championship.

That's right, Mr. Acropolis, the championship.

And the biggest payoff

in the history of the fight racket.

Rudy, how did I know

the kid was gonna get himself killed?

Forget the kid.

I couldn't care less.

All I care about is the fact

that I'm covering $17 million on another of Jarreau's fighters.

The fight goes in six weeks,

and thanks to you, I've no longer got a fix.

What do you want me to do?

First of all, get rid of Herbie Snow.

He's the only one who can tie us to the morphine.

What about Jarreau?

I'll handle Jarreau.

Not the way I wanted to, but I'll handle him.

Okay.

I'll go see Herbie.

You do that.

And Acropolis?

Yeah?

Try not to get caught with a gun in your hand, hmm?

Morphine in this amount would take effect very quickly.

A matter of minutes.

So they gave it to him during the fight?

Absolutely.

Probably a little at a time

so that the effect would be cumulative.

It would just look as if he were getting tired.

That eliminates a needle.

They couldn't very well give him a hypo

in front of 11,000 people.

Seems much more likely he got it orally.

What about the taste?

Well, morphine has a slightly bitter taste,

but it could be disguised in almost anything.

Thank you.

Any time, Mr. Ness.

♪ ♪

Could I have the number

of the State Athletic Commission?

Don't start an investigation, Barney.

That's right.

They'll kill you.

If they could afford to kill me,

they would have done it last night.

But you have no proof that they bribed McGrath.

You said so yourself.

You just think that he threw the fight.

Maybe the commission can prove it. Thank you.

And if they can't, then what?

I can't let 'em get away with it! Don't you understand?

Once these vultures get their dirty claws

into one of your fighters, they don't quit

until they got 'em all.

You don't understand.

I couldn't bear if something happened to you.

I'll get it.

Hello, Mrs. Jarreau.

What do you want?

I'd like to talk to your husband.

Why?

Just tell him I'm here.

He is not at home.

Tell him.

This is my husband.

This is Mr. Krasna.

Yeah?

I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Jarreau.

What about?

Your wife seems surprised to see me.

You know him?

I used to work for Mr. Krasna.

He ran a string of dance halls.

She was... very popular.

What is this, some kind of a shakedown?

Easy, Mr. Jarreau.

You're jumping to conclusions.

If you've got something to say, spit it out!

All right.

You've got a fighter named Tommy Troy.

He fights at the Garden in six weeks

for the world championship.

So what about it?

So, he's gonna lose, Mr. Jarreau.

Who says so? I do.

Get out!

Did you know your wife's in this country illegally?

You're out of your mind! Am I?

Right after she quit her job at the dance hall,

two immigration men came around looking for her.

If they ever find her, she'll be deported.

If this was on the level, you'd...

you'd have been around years ago

when I had my first contender.

Well, you underestimate me, Jarreau.

Why should I try to squeeze you

when you were so much more valuable to me

playing it straight?

Why don't you cut out the double-talk?

Everybody knows you're on the level.

You're the Sir Galahad of the fight racket.

Rather than destroy such a lily white reputation,

we decided to use it.

What do you mean by that?

Let's take a look at some of the fights

your boys lost in the last two years.

There was, uh, Sailor Cowan.

Eight to five.

Ran out of gas in the seventh.

August 14, Rocky Gold... Three to one.

Overcome by the heat.

September 9, Petey James.

Uh, shall I go on?

None of those boys would throw a fight.

That's right, Jarreau.

None of your boys ever threw a fight...

including McGrath.

If anybody should ask you any questions,

his death was strictly an accident.

I'll be in touch, Jarreau,

about the championship.

I'm sorry.

I should have told you before.

There's a lot of other things

you should have told me about,

aren't there, Mrs. Jarreau?

Yes, yes.

Like where are your naturalization papers,

Mrs. Jarreau?

What happened to all the cups you won

in the popularity contests, Mrs. Jarreau?

I was afraid.

I was afraid to lose you.

"Don't call the commission, Barney.

"If they should start an investigation,

they might kill you."

Was it me you were worried about,

or was it yourself?

I love you, Barney.

Sure you do, as long

as you can stay in this country.

I'm through playing patsy

for you and everybody else in this town.

From now on, lady, you're on your own!

And now back to The Untouchables.

By 6:00 p.m.

on the day following the McGrath-Pierson fight,

the Illinois State Athletic Commission,

alerted by a phone call from Eliot Ness,

had ordered a full-scale investigation

into the circumstances

surrounding Joey McGrath's death.

Ness and the Untouchables,

having subpoenaed the newsreel films of the fight,

were searching for some clue

to the men who had arranged the fix.

Okay, here it comes.

Now watch the trainer.

That's the first time

he's given him a drink from that bottle.

It's a light ammonia solution

used to settle the fighter's stomachs.

But from here on in,

he gives it to the kid before every round.

Okay, Rico.

What have you got on him, Jack?

Name's Herbie Snow.

He's been around a long time.

Jarreau picked him up a couple years ago

after his own trainer left.

There's talk he's a junkie.

Where does he live?

Green Briar Hotel.

It's only a couple blocks from the gym.

Come on, Lee, let's pay him a visit.

Mungo the fireballer, into his windup.

There's a fastball on the outside.

Billy Hermann leans into it.

It's a base hit; it's going out into right field...

Herbie Snow.

He's rounding first and heading for second...

Hey, what are you doing?

Herbie Snow. What room?

Two-fourteen. Is he in?

Five minutes ago, but he's got company.

The guy's been waiting for him all day.

Strike one, right down the middle.

Snow?

Mrs. Jarreau?

Yes.

We're federal officers.

What do you want?

We'd like to ask your husband a few questions.

He would be glad to talk to you...

only, he isn't here.

Where is he?

He isn't here.

My husband isn't here.

I don't know if he'll ever come back.

I don't think so.

Do you know where we can find him?

No.

And you don't expect him back?

No, I don't... expect him back.

All right, Mrs. Jarreau.

Thank you.

Hello?

It's Hymie, Mr. Krasna. Yeah.

I think Jarreau and his wife have had a bust-up.

What do you mean?

Well, a few minutes after you left,

he came out of the apartment like the place was on fire.

I tailed him over to a cheap hotel on Harrison Street.

Is he still there?

No. He just stayed long enough to rent a room,

and came over to the gym.

Stay with him.

Come in.

It's done... but it was awful close.

What's that supposed to mean?

Ness! He missed us by inches!

He moves too fast, this Ness, too fast.

He'll be going after Jarreau next.

I thought you were going to take care of Jarreau?

I did, but it's his wife I'm worried about now.

You'd better get over there right now.

You tell her I said to keep her mouth shut,

and make sure she understands.

I'll spell it out.

Jarreau's office?

Come in.

Federal officers, Mr. Jarreau.

My name's Ness.

Well, what do you want?

Your fighter died in the ring last night, Mr. Jarreau.

You come all the way down here to tell me that?

Before he died, he took a terrible beating.

Why didn't you stop it?

You can't stop a fight because a fighter is losing.

It means an investigation.

People will think the fight is fixed.

If it wasn't fixed, how do you account for the fact

McGrath's body was full of morphine?

Morphine?

So much morphine

he was in no condition to defend himself.

You were in his corner, Jarreau.

You must have known about it.

Are you accusing me of doping my own fighter?!

If you didn't, who did?

How should I know?

Could it have been Herbie Snow?

Why don't you ask him?

I can't. Herbie Snow is dead.

Dead?

Does that surprise you, Jarreau?

What are you trying to say?

I'll tell you what I'm trying to say.

I'm trying to say your trainer fed McGrath morphine

so you could make a few lousy bucks.

And when the kid died, you had the trainer rubbed out

so he couldn't talk.

There'll be an official inquiry

into the death of McGrath, Jarreau.

You'll be subpoenaed.

He's got quite a wallop.

Yeah, I asked for it.

That's a tough way to get evidence.

He's a tough man.

Did he act scared to you?

No. No, he acts like a man

who's mad at the whole world.

That's what I got.

Somebody must be putting a squeeze on Mr. Jarreau.

Yeah, but how?

Maybe we missed a beat.

How far back?

One step. Mrs. Jarreau?

She's in no condition to answer questions.

Let's bring her some coffee.

Mrs. Jarreau?

Maybe she went out.

Maybe she did.

Johnny Acropolis.

The murder of Johnny Acropolis,

well-known member of the underworld, coming as it did

within hours of the death of the trainer Herbie Snow

rocked Chicago... but for Eliot Ness,

the discovery of Acropolis' body

and the disappearance of Mrs. Jarreau,

was an untimely complication.

The hearing into the McGrath-Pierson fight

had been set for 10:00 a.m. Monday morning,

less than 24 hours away.

Though Ness and his men had worked through the night,

they had, as yet, no evidence to connect Acropolis

or anyone else, to the morphine,

which had been administered to McGrath.

Thanks, Smitty.

What did we get from the coroner's office

on the phony autopsy report?

Clerical error.

The medical examiner's very sorry,

but after all, they do a volume business,

mistakes are bound to happen.

Smitty just called from the lab.

What'd we get?

Just about what we expected.

The gun is registered to Jarreau,

and his wife's fingerprints are all over it.

Anything on her whereabouts yet?

Nothing. If we find her before the hearing,

it'll be a miracle.

Maybe we won't need her.

You lost me.

We figured Jarreau wouldn't talk

because somebody was getting to him through his wife.

Now if that somebody was Acropolis,

we just might have a friendly witness.

And if it wasn't Acropolis?

Try not to think about that.

Hello, Ness.

This is Smitty again, Mr. Ness.

I've got something else.

Go ahead, Smitty, shoot.

We picked up a set of prints in Jarreau's apartment.

They've got quite a background.

27 arrests, including two on suspicion of murder,

one on grand larceny... no convictions.

What's his name?

Uh, Rudolph Krasna.

Do you want me to send over the file?

Right away, Smitty. Thanks.

They just found Rudolph Krasna's prints

in Jarreau's apartment.

Krasna? The boss of the numbers racket?

He used to be; maybe he's branched out.

Let's have another talk with Mr. Jarreau.

Well, what do you know?

We got lucky.

She's killed him, and she's disappeared.

Yeah, but suppose the feds tie us to Acropolis.

Well, suppose they do?

Am I responsible for the women he gets involved with?

Yeah?

Any trouble?

He's not the type.

Sit down, Doctor. Make yourself comfortable.

What do you want, Mr. Krasna?

Why did you bring me here?

You're going to testify at the hearing Monday.

I already told you, I won't say anything.

Well, you're going to have to say something, Doctor.

Now I'm going to tell you what it is.

Look, I was up all night talking to the police.

I don't know anything You knew Acropolis.

All right, I knew Acropolis.

Everybody in the fight game knew him.

What does that prove?

You never had any dealings with him?

No.

Then what was he doing talking to your wife?

Nobody can prove my wife was

anywhere near the apartment

when Acropolis was killed.

You're wrong, Jarreau.

The gun that killed him was registered to you,

but your wife's fingerprints are all over it.

If I knew he was bothering my wife,

I would have killed him myself.

What about Rudolph Krasna?

Who's Krasna?

Never heard of him, huh?

Then how do you account for the fact,

his fingerprints were found in your apartment?

I still don't know him.

You realize that you're implying

that you had no dealing with Acropolis...

you don't know Krasna, yet both of them

were in your apartment with your wife

without your knowledge.

Is that the story you want the newspapers to get?

Now then, let's go a round again.

Did you know Krasna?

He came to my apartment yesterday afternoon.

What for?

He wanted me to throw the championship fight

at the Gardens in September.

He ever try anything like this before?

No.

What gave him the idea you could be bribed this time?

I've got nothing more to say.

Will you say what you just said at the hearing?

No.

Why not?

I've got my reasons.

Those reasons have something to do with your wife,

don't they, Jarreau?

What have they got on your wife, Jarreau?

Nothing.

All right, get your coat.

What for?

You're under arrest.

What are the charges?

Striking a federal officer.

But that was yesterday.

It took me 24 hours to get mad.

Now move!

The most recent development in this sensational case

was the arrest early this afternoon of Barney Jarreau,

manager of the dead fighter and owner of the apartment

in which the body of the slain gangster was found.

No official charge has yet been lodged against Jarreau,

but it is expected that he will be charged

with the murder of John Acropolis.

If so, it would be the end of a brilliant career

for one of boxing's most successful managers.

Jarreau was, himself, a better than average

light heavyweight in the days when Jack Dempsey

took the championship from Jess Willard.

And, at the moment, has the leading challenger

for the heavyweight championship of the world

in 28-year-old Tommy Troy.

At Monday's hearing, then,

the testimony of Barney Jarreau may decide

not only his own future,

but that of the entire world of boxing.

Do you think it'll work?

If she hears it, if she cares at all,

if she's sober enough to understand.

That's an awful lot of "ifs."

Eliot, you can't do this.

Now, wait a minute, Beecher,

the charge against Jarreau is legitimate.

I read the charge: striking a federal officer.

But by not releasing it to the press,

you've deliberately made it appear that Jarreau

is being held for the murder of Acropolis.

That's right.

But he's not guilty and you know it.

He can sue us for false arrest, for defamation

of character and heaven knows what else.

Beecher, listen to me for a minute.

I'm convinced Mrs. Jarreau's the key to this whole thing.

We can't find her.

But maybe if she hears her husband's charged

with a murder she committed, she'll turn herself in.

And if she doesn't?

What have you got then?

I've got this much: Jarreau's an honest man.

Every time he lies to me it tears him apart.

I'm banking on the fact

that when they put him under oath, he'll tell the truth.

If you're wrong, they'll hang us both out to dry.

You know that, don't you?

I know it.

Why don't you get some sleep, Eliot?

Ness speaking.

Can I talk to you?

This is, um, Mrs. Jarreau speaking.

Fred, trace the call on extension five.

Go ahead, I'm listening.

My husband did not do it.

It was his gun, Mrs. Jarreau.

I know it was his gun.

But I'm the one that used it.

Why'd you kill Acropolis?

He beat me.

That's why.

He threatened to kill me.

Go on.

I... I picked up the gun in the desk,

and I shot him.

If you shot him in self defense, that's justifiable homicide.

Why not give yourself up?

Why'd Acropolis come to see you?

Mrs. Jarreau, your husband's making himself

an accessory to murder because he's trying to protect you.

I'm going to hang up now, Mr. Ness.

Wait a minute, listen to me.

Joey McGrath's death wasn't an accident.

He was doped in the ring so he couldn't protect himself.

Unless your husband testifies

at that hearing tomorrow, he's going to be labeled

a murderer by every newspaper in the country.

You're the only one who can save him...

Mrs. Jarreau?

Mrs. Jarreau?

No, that's all.

Thanks, Fred.

Well, all we got left is Barney Jarreau.

Let's hope it's enough.

Look, like I was telling you.

I says to Rocky, I mean Mr. Pierson.

I says, "Look, kid, the way I see it,

"McGrath took the first five rounds,

"the sixth is a draw.

"If you want to win this fight,

you're going to have to knock him out,"

and that's what he did.

I mean, I'm sorry about the kid dying,

but it wasn't Rocky's fault.

Mr. Rodriguez,

didn't it occur to you that there was anything wrong

with Joey McGrath after the fifth round?

No. I just figured he ran out of gas.

It happens all the time.

Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez.

You may be excused.

Rocky Pierson.

Uh, yes, sir.

Raise your right hand.

Do you swear that the testimony you're about to give

will be the truth, the whole truth

and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

Yes, sir, I do.

You may be seated.

The State began strongly enough this morning

by introducing evidence that was shocking and irrefutable.

That the deceased fighter, Joey McGrath,

was doped with morphine by his trainer, Herbie Snow.

Now, it's their contention that Snow was murdered

because his testimony could have implicated

important figures in a nationwide gambling syndicate.

Since that time, however,

with the exception of a brief luncheon break,

we've seen a long procession of frightened witnesses

who know nothing, have heard nothing,

and say nothing.

I only done what Blinky told me to.

And he was right, you know?

'Cause I talked to the guys in the press section afterwards,

and they had McGrath ahead at the end of the sixth.

Ah, if I had thought the kid had been doped, I would...

That's all.

You may be excused.

Mr. Commissioner,

with your permission, I think we've heard

enough for one day.

Yes, this hearing's adjourned until 10:00 tomorrow morning.

Do you still think there's a chance

Jarreau will open up?

Well, there's always a chance.

Come on, I'll buy you dinner.

I'll go keep you company.

Frankly, I've lost my appetite.

It appears more and more certain

that if the state has any case

at all, that case hangs

on the testimony of one man, Barney Jarreau,

who will probably take the stand first thing tomorrow morning.

Bernard Jarreau.

Raise your right hand.

Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth,

the whole truth, and nothing but the truth

so help you God?

I do not.

What kind of nonsense is this?

You take the oath

properly. I am not going to take

any oath at all.

I won't testify.

You realize you're under a legal subpoena?

This constitutes contempt.

I don't care what it constitutes.

You can't make me testify.

Well, you're right, Mr. Jarreau, we can't force you to speak.

But in the opinion of this committee,

your refusal to testify

constitutes an admission of guilt.

That's all for now.

May I speak, please?

I am Mrs. Bernard Jarreau.

No! She hasn't been called!

She has nothing to do with this!

Quiet please!

May I speak, please?

Come forward, Mrs. Jarreau.

Don't do it.

It's going to be all right.

I can tell you

why my husband doesn't want to say anything.

Swear her in.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Bernard Jarreau,

a woman the police have been seeking in connection

with the murder of racketeer Johnny Acropolis,

is standing before the committee and taking the oath.

Now, if it is true, as we must assume,

that Barney Jarreau's refusal to testify

had something to do with her disappearance,

it seems very likely that this hearing

is in for some very spectacular and startling revelations.

Going somewhere, Mr. Krasna?

I first have to tell you...

that I am an illegal alien.

My husband is a very honorable man.

I came to this country...

The testimony of Mrs. Jarreau

committed her husband to expose Krasna

and the ruthless syndicate operation which he controlled.

Krasna died in prison a broken man.

Mrs. Jarreau was subsequently tried

for the shooting of Johnny Acropolis

and given a five year suspended sentence.

She was deported to Budapest in 1932,

where she resides with her husband.

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