Dragnet 1967 (1967) s01e02 Episode Script

1
[Friday Narrating]
This is the city— Los Angeles, California.
Geographically,
the biggest in the world
and still growing.
Every day the population increases
by almost a thousand.
It begins to get crowded.
Three million people
were here ahead of them.
There are all kinds—
the young and the old,
those who love
and those who hate.
They're the kind
who make work for me.
I carry a badge.
It was Thursday, September 15.
It was hot in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch
out of Burglary Division.
My partner's Bill Gannon.
The boss is Captain Mack.
My name's Friday.
It was 7:30 a.m.
We were reporting in early
for another day.
It got started in a hurry.
A large quantity
of high-velocity gelatin dynamite
had been stolen
from a consumer's
storage magazine.
We had to try and find it
before somebody used it.
[Man Narrating]
The story you are about to see is true.
The names have been changed
to protect the innocent.
Here's one to go on.
Night watchman,
Donnelly Construction Company.
Yeah.
This morning, he flushed
two men in a station wagon.
When he got close,
they threw something at his car.
What's that?
U.S. Army hand grenade.
[Friday Narrating]
Captain Mack
had told the Bomb Squad
to meet us at
the construction company supply yard
located at Slauson and Florence,
in the southern section of the city.
Civilian possession of a hand grenade
is a violation of
the Dangerous Weapons Control Law.
Pulling the safety pin had to be
the act of a desperate man or a sick mind.
Either way, the incident
had to be investigated.
8: 18 a.m. We arrived
at the Donnelly Construction Company.
Matt Kemper, the night watchman,
met us at the company office.
He pointed out
the high-explosives magazine
that had been burglarized.
Ray Murray, from S. I. D.,
and a demolitions expert
were already at the scene.
[Kemper] Them bomb men over there,
you gotta hand it to 'em—
nerves like solid steel.
[Shudders]
Kinda gives me the shakes.
Unexploded grenade is somethin'
I don't wanna fool with.
Yes, sir.
Wanna tell us what happened here?
Just like I said on the phone.
Around 6:00 a.m.
I was making my last rounds
when I come across this car
parked right by the magazine.
I didn't think much of it—
hardly a night I don't have to
chase off a lover or two.
- [Gannon] Yes, sir.
- Then I seen they wasn't lovers at all.
- They was breakin' into
the magazine over there.
- Who was breaking in?
Two men. But you won't have
no trouble tracin' 'em.
- How's that, sir?
- Took down the license.
- That was the thing to do, wasn't it?
- Yes, sir. Do you have the number?
Oh, yes. I wrote it down
so it wouldn't get away from me.
I'll run it
through D.M.V., Joe.
Right.
Now, Mr. Kemper,
I wonder if you could give me
a description of the man.
Well, young fellas they were.
Must've been crazy to throw that grenade.
- Did you notice how they
were dressed, anything like that?
- Mmm, no, sir.
I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you.
I guess I got a little rattled.
Well, were they tall or short?
Do you remember how they were built?
Heavy or slight?
No, sir.
I just can't help you, Sergeant.
But I'll think on it,
and if I can pull anything up
I'll sure tell you.
- It'll help if you can remember.
- Yes, sir, I'll try.
Joe, this is Gene Ellis,
chief engineer
on the construction project.
Mr. Ellis.
Sergeant Friday.
Would you tell the sergeant
what you told me?
- I just finished checking
our explosives inventory.
- Yes, sir?
We're minus eight cases.
That's 400 pounds
of high-velocity gelatin dynamite.
- You mean it's been stolen?
- Has to be. Wasn't issued on this job.
You're sure?
Positive.
- Lock on the magazine door, it's been jimmied.
- Looks like a pry job, Joe.
Four hundred pounds.
What's that mean in explosive strength?
That's 1,640 cartridges
of high-velocity stuff, one of the most
powerful dynamites manufactured.
- Yes, sir.
- It'd level two city blocks.
[Friday Narrating]
8:30 a.m.
Ray Murray and the men
from the bomb squad had finished
their preliminary investigation
of the unexploded hand grenade.
Murray filled us in while we waited
in the construction company office
for a report from D. M. V.
on the suspect's license number.
Fortunately,
the primer was damped
so it wouldn't detonate.
The dynamite cartridges
that were stolen—
what size are they?
One and a quarter by eight inches.
Two hundred in a 50-pound case.
Eight cases missing.
- Yeah.
- Mr. Ellis, have you figured
how many blasting caps are missing?
I figure three containers.
That's 72 caps.
- I hope the thieves
know how to handle 'em.
- What do you mean, Ray?
Extraneous electricity.
Huh?
These are electric blasting caps, Joe.
A lot of people who don't handle explosives
are unaware that unwanted electrical energy
can enter a blasting circuit from the outside.
Yeah.
Transmission lines,
straight currents, lightning, static.
Even radio
or television transmission.
You mean, any radio or TV station in town
could set 'em off?
Depends on how close they get
to an FM or TV transmitter.
- What about car radios?
- If they're used for transmitting,
like ours, they're a decided danger.
Yeah, but we can't be sure
whoever took 'em will know that.
- If they don't, odds are they'll have the caps
and the dynamite pretty close together.
- Yeah.
Makes whoever's got the stuff
virtually a time bomb.
Could go up anytime.
I got a hunch it's not the work of vandals.
Nobody'd steal this kind of thing for resale.
No legitimate concern
would accept it.
Probably couldn't be fenced either.
Well, that leaves us
an alternative, doesn't it?
Whoever walked off with it
intends to use it.
- We got just one big question.
- Yeah.
Where, and when?
[Friday Narrating]
8:45 a.m.
D. M. V. came up with
a make on the license number
of the suspect's station wagon.
It was registered
to a Samuel H. Halpern,
legal the same,
7019 San Marcos Street.
It was located
up in the Hollywood Hills.
9: 10 a.m.
We arrived at Halpern's address.
We missed him by 10 minutes.
His wife told us he was
an insurance adjuster and had just left
for his office on Wilshire Boulevard.
He was not driving
the station wagon.
According to Mrs. Halpern,
they had traded it in on a new car
over a month ago.
Furthermore, she assured us
her husband had been
home with her all last night.
She furnished us with the name
of the car dealer to whom
they had sold their station wagon.
Peterson Motors.
It was on Ventura Boulevard in Van Nuys.
We left the Halpern residence
and took the freeway out to Van Nuys
to Peterson Motors
to check out the station wagon
used in the burglary.
9:35 a.m.
Charlie? This is Fred.
That blue '61 Comet station wagon
we took in trade last month—
license JMI 663—
What's with it?
Okay, okay. Let me write it down.
Albert Amory.
9025 Poyntelle Street.
Right.
Okay.
Thanks, Charlie.
They just mailed
the new owner's pink slip
up to Sacramento.
That's okay, sir.
We have it.
- Oh, you have?
- Thanks very much, sir.
- Sounds like you're in a hurry.
- We are.
[Friday Narrating]
10: 15 a.m.
We drove over
to 9025 Poyntelle Street.
From the sidewalk,
we could look down a short driveway
into the garage.
It was empty.
Yeah?
What do you want?
Are you Albert Amory?
What?
Is your name
Albert Amory?
Al Amory. That's right.
What's the problem?
Police officers.
We'd like to talk to you.
Look, I just woke up.
I'm still a little foggy. Come on in.
The place is kind of a mess.
The wife usually
runs a vacuum around before
she goes to work in the morning.
Unless I'm asleep.
You work nights,
do ya?
Yeah. I'm a bartender
at a place called the Jade Pagoda
down in New Chinatown.
- What kind of work does your wife do?
- She's a checker in a supermarket.
Look, is this something about her?
Did something happen to her?
- No, not that we know of.
- Well, let's have it, huh?
No Mickey Mousing around.
Lay it out straight and simple.
You own a station wagon,
license number JMl 663?
Does it have something to do
with my car? What happened?
Was it in an accident?
- Do you own the car?
- That's right. But I haven't seen it
since 10:00 last night.
- Did you report it missing?
- No.
- But I was mad enough to do it last night.
- Why didn't you report your car missing?
- I figured the guy'd
have it back this morning.
- What guy?
A fella who hangs
around the Pagoda—Siggie.
- What's his full name?
- I never heard it.
Everybody just calls him Siggie.
Do you know where he lives?
No.
- How about where he works?
- No.
Are you in the habit of loaning your car
to somebody you don't even know?
Look, I know him. He's a regular.
There's a whole crowd of them.
- You ever been arrested?
- No.
There was a burglary last night.
Two men. License number
and description fits your station wagon.
- You figure Siggie was one of 'em?
- It kinda looks that way, doesn't it?
- You have any idea
who the other man was?
- No, I don't.
This Siggie—usually come
in your place every day?
As a rule, yeah.
But tell you the truth, I don't care
if he never comes in again.
Well, now,
that's the big difference.
Huh?
We do.
[Friday Narrating]
Amory described Siggie
as being Caucasian,
slender build, fair complexion,
about 25 years old,
no distinguishing marks or scars.
It still wasn't much to go on.
Bill phoned R&I
and checked the moniker file.
There were five Siggies listed.
None of them fitted the description.
Bill also checked out Al Amory.
He was clean.
10:45 a.m.
We drove downtown to Central City,
up North Broadway to New Chinatown.
The Jade Pagoda was located
in the middle of the block
on Ling Ji Way.
We picked out a booth
in the back of the room
and sat down to wait for the suspect
known only as Siggie.
1:55 p.m.
We'd been waiting
for over three hours.
Still no sign of him.
We continued to wait.
Al Amory relieved the day man.
The suspect had failed to show.
4:00 p.m.
Fella standing over there,
end of the bar.
Yeah?
What about him?
Name's Grove.
Might be able to tell you
where Siggie is.
How do you figure?
I saw Siggie loan him
some money last night.
Your name Grove?
That's right.
Police officer.
I'd like to talk to you.
What for?
You mind stepping over here
for a minute?
I haven't done anything.
Then you've got nothing
to worry about, have you?
You mind if I smoke?
Don't be cute.
- What's your full name?
- Grove. Nelson P. Grove.
- We're looking for a friend of yours.
- Oh, yeah? Who's that?
- Siggie.
- Siggie.
Come on, mister.
You know who we mean.
You hang around here all the time.
So does he. Last night
you got some money from him.
Oh, Siggie.
I tapped him for a buck.
That's how well I know the guy.
Siggie.
Is that a nickname?
Yeah. I think his name is Chapman.
Donald Chapman. Something like that.
- Where does he live?
- Couldn't say.
I don't know him that well.
I'll call it in, Joe.
Seems like a decent-enough guy.
Sure hope he ain't done nothin' bad.
Depends on how quick we get to him.
[Friday Narrating]
4: 10 p.m.
I'll leave you one of our cards.
If you think of anything else,
give us a call, will ya?
Joe, looks like we struck oil.
Donald Chapman, age 31,
662 Tamarack Street, North Hollywood.
- Fits the description. Out on bail.
- For what?
- He's awaiting trial for A.D.W.
- Yeah? Go on.
Involved in a traffic accident,
Sunset and La Brea.
- Locked bumpers with another car.
Minor damage. Sounds a little psycho.
- Yeah?
The other driver—
man named Leroy Wilson.
What about him?
This Chapman jumped out of his car
and shot Wilson in the arm.
- .22 caliber revolver.
- Why? Because of the accident?
- Not according to the report.
Chapman gave another reason.
- What's that?
Wilson's a Negro.
[Friday Narrating]
Thursday, September 15, 5:00 p.m.
We had to move fast.
We were reasonably sure
that 400 pounds of dynamite
were in the hands of a man
who had already
committed an irrational assault
with a deadly weapon.
If he was the same man,
we figured he wouldn't hesitate
to use the dynamite.
Donald Chapman's address
was an apartment in the rear
of a single residence on a quiet street.
The property was owned
by a Mrs. Anna Logan.
She told us Chapman was
a peculiar person, but very quiet.
She didn't have a pass key.
She didn't know if he was in or not.
There was a car in the garage.
The license number confirmed it was
the station wagon used in the burglary
at the construction company.
The car was empty,
as far as we could tell.
Joe!
Looks like it's all here.
Caps too.
Yeah.
I haven't touched it.
I figure we'd better
let the Bomb Squad check it.
Right.
I'll call the office.
I wouldn't use the car radio.
[Friday Narrating]
5:45 p.m.
Bill called Captain Mack
and filled him in.
The Bomb Squad
was immediately notified.
D.A.'s office is sending somebody over
to advise us of legalities.
Yeah.
Cruiser units are working the block,
trying to clear everybody out.
Well, that'll tear it.
But there's nothing else we can do.
The minute Chapman
hits the neighborhood
he'll get hinky.
Captain said he'd caution
all of our people
not to use radio transmitters.
Chapman's description—
what about broadcast?
Went on the air
five minutes ago
to all units.
Phil Masturian, D.A.'s office.
This is Bill Gannon.
My name's Friday.
We seem to have
a legal problem here.
- Murray thinks the dynamite
ought to be moved out.
- That's right.
You know that evidence
can be legally removed
only by permission of the owner,
incident to an arrest,
or by authority of a search warrant.
- Joe, are the caps in the closet too?
- That's right.
- What about just removing those?
- Well, we discussed that.
Your case could go out the window.
It could contaminate the evidence.
In a way, we're almost as bad off.
- What about the people living in this block?
- Trying to clear 'em out. Gonna take time.
You know the right radio frequency
could take out this entire block.
It's your case, Sergeant.
Get 'em outta here.
Joe? Bill?
Yeah, Ray?
How many cases of dynamite
were missing?
Eight. 400 pounds.
Why?
We're not
out of the woods yet.
How's that?
I checked the caps.
Some of those are missing.
Yeah?
And you haven't got
eight cases.
What do you mean?
Four of these are empty.
[Friday Narrating]
7: 15 p.m.
With the definite knowledge that
four cases of the dynamite were missing,
it became a race against time.
We had to presume that Chapman
had removed a portion of the explosives
with a definite target in mind.
Let's face it, Joe.
It's hopeless.
That guy Chapman—
Look at this junk.
Hate literature by the ton.
Yeah, I know.
Mind like that,
how do you think along with it?
I don't know, Bill,
but we gotta try.
How about civil rights activities?
Anything planned here in the city?
Rallies or meetings?
No, I thought of that.
Nothing that I know of.
If we just had a piece of something,
anything we could grab hold of.
Yeah, and that dynamite,
no telling where he planted it,
if he planted it.
Ten-to-one he did.
Four cases.
He's got enough there
to blow a pretty good hole
in something, hasn't he?
Sergeant Friday?
Yeah?
Martin, 1A-29.
My partner and I
are working the security detail.
- Yeah?
- We heard the emergency broadcast
on the suspect's description.
- Spotted this guy
walking in this direction.
- Go on, Martin.
Description checks out. So does his I. D.
My partner's bringing him up here.
- What's his name?
- Donald L. Chapman.
[Friday Narrating]
8:05 p.m.
We placed the suspect under arrest
and advised him
of his constitutional rights.
He steadfastly refused
to tell us anything.
He insisted he didn't know
how the dynamite
got into his apartment.
You expect us to believe
you got a closet full of dynamite
and you didn't know it was there?
How would I know?
I hardly ever go in the closet.
Never mind the smart answers.
We can bust you right now
for receiving stolen property.
- Then why don't you do it?
- Just tell us what you did
with those other four cases.
Maybe I'll change my mind.
You told me I don't have to talk to you.
Maybe I won't.
It's quite a collection
you got here, Chapman.
Flags, rifles, hand grenades,
machine gun, German helmet.
- You go for this stuff too?
- Brought some things back in '45.
You got a Luftwaffe dagger?
I been trying to pick up one of those.
Scarcer than hen's teeth.
- I think maybe I do.
- What'll you take for it?
- I'll make it easy.
- Yeah?
Just tell us what you did
with the dynamite.
No deal.
- What kind of a fool do you take me for?
You wouldn't sell it to me anyway.
- I might, for some right answers.
Tell us
about the dynamite.
What time is it?
Why?
I gotta know what time it is.
I lost my watch.
8:35.
Is that all?
- What do you mean by that?
- We got lots of time.
[Friday Narrating]
We stayed at it.
The weapons in Chapman's apartment
were checked and unloaded.
Other armament
was placed out of his reach.
Chapman wanted to talk about
everything but the missing dynamite.
The more he talked,
the more convinced Bill and I became
that he had planted the explosives,
and it was only a matter of time now
where and when it would be detonated.
He showed no outward sign
that it had been yet.
1 1:57 p.m.
He did.
He really did.
He had the right idea too—
keep the races pure.
No room
for troublemaking minorities.
All right, Chapman.
We've heard all that
four or five times.
Yeah, but you're not convinced yet.
- You oughta read some of
this stuff—pamphlets, books.
- Some other time.
If you feel the way you say you do,
you must have planted that dynamite
where it'd do a lot of harm.
You can bet on that.
Suppose we don't believe you.
Maybe you're just lying
to make yourself look big.
- What time you got?
- 12:15.
Well, pretty soon
you'll know if I'm lying or not.
[Friday Narrating]
We kept at it all night.
We sent out
for coffee and sandwiches.
Bill and I knew our only hope was to
get Chapman to tell us what he had done
with the four missing cases of dynamite.
Sunrise was beginning to break.
Chapman continued
his hate barrage.
It was beginning
to get on Bill's nerves,
and mine too.
Chapman continually
wanted to know the time.
It was 8:32 a.m.
What'd you do that for?
Because
we're about to throw up.
Come on, Chapman.
Let's go downtown.
It's not time yet.
It is for you.
Let's go.
Do we have to go right now?
Right now.
What time is it?
Why?
I gotta know.
Please!
No dice!
Sit down!
You want the time of day so bad,
you tell us why.
- I gotta know.
- We'll trade. We want to know why.
All right.
If it's after 9:00, I'll tell you.
- It's five after.
- I knew it. I knew it.
I can tell you now.
- You would've spoiled everything
if I'd told you before.
- Told us what?
There's a school, see—
48th Street School.
It ain't there now.
- What do you mean?
- It went up at 9:00 sharp.
- You blew up a school?
- Why, sure.
- Wouldn't you if you was me?
- What?
Starting today
it was gonna be integrated.
[ No Audible Dialogue]
[Friday Narrating]
8:47 a.m.
I lied to Chapman
about the correct time.
The important thing was,
it told us part of what
we'd been trying to find out.
The 48th Street School
would hold its first class at 9:00 a.m.
They were immediately notified
of the dynamite threat.
They were instructed
to evacuate the school buildings
and the grounds
for a distance of two blocks
in all directions.
Ray Murray and the Bomb Squad
were dispatched to the school
to try and locate the charge.
You lied.
You lied to me.
- Where’d you plant the charge?
- You figure it out.
I'm not telling you anything.
You might as well.
The school's being cleared right now.
- You can't do any harm
except to destroy an empty building.
- We'll see.
- Where is it?
- One thing's sure.
- What's that?
- They won't be able to go to that school.
You'll never find
where I put that charge.
You're just running up a bigger bill.
Now, tell us where you put that dynamite.
Not a chance.
[Phone Rings]
Friday.
Yeah, Ray.
You did, huh?
Where?
Yeah. Yeah, me too.
They found the dynamite.
Ventilator shaft. It was rigged
to one of the school bells.
Would've gone off at 9:00 a.m.
Don't worry.
There's others who feel like me.
Don't make much difference
what happens to me.
They'll get the job done.
Wait and see.
There'll be other times.
You listen to me, you wide-mouthed punk.
We've heard just about all we want from you.
I know my rights. I know the law too.
You'll want to know a lot more.
A motive, for one thing.
Hate'll do for a start.
- Put that walnut-sized brain to work on this—
You keep harping about minorities.
- That's right.
Well, mister, you're a psycho,
and they're a minority too.
[Narrator]
The story you have just seen is true.
The names were changed
to protect the innocent.
On November 15,
trial was held in Department 184,
Superior Court of the State of California,
in and for the County of Los Angeles.
In a moment, the results of that trial.
The suspect was found guilty
on a variety of charges
ranging from burglary in the first degree
to attempted murder.
After his arrest, Chapman identified
his confederate as one Harry Albert Jones.
After an exhaustive search,
the suspect was finally located in Nevada
where he was serving a sentence
in the state prison
after conviction on another charge.