Ladies and gentlemen, Fatima Cigarettes is proud to bring you its prize-winning radio program, winner of the Motion Picture Herald Fame Award. The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fatima Cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes, brings you Dragnet. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to juvenile bureau. You receive a complaint about an eight-year-old boy and his sister. A neighbor reports they've been going from door to door begging for food. Supposedly the children are from well-to-do parents. Your job, investigate. You'll be amazed when you compare Fatima with other long cigarettes. You'll find they now cost the same. But in Fatima, the difference is quality. You see, Fatima is the quality king-size cigarette because it contains the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos superbly blended. And Fatima is extra mild with a much different, much better flavor and aroma than any other long cigarette. So compare Fatima yourself. Fatima's now cost the same as other long cigarettes, but your first puff will tell you, Ah, that's different. Yes, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Ask your dealer for Fatima, the quality king-size cigarette. Best of all, long cigarettes. Start enjoying Fatima tomorrow. Dragnet, the documented drama of an actual crime. For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will travel step-by-step on the side of the law through an actual case transcribed from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Tuesday, April 27th. It was overcast in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of Juvenile Bureau. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Captain Kinsley. My name's Friday. I was on the way back from communications. It was 4.38 p.m. when I got to 1335 Georgia Street, second floor, room 14. Hi, Jill. Been waiting long? I was just checking my records. No, I just got here. What's this thing all about? Well, just what I told you on the phone, a seven-year-old boy and his sister covering the neighborhood begging food. You ready to go? Yeah, let me put this away first. All right. Kids are supposed to be from a wealthy family, huh? Well, wealthy enough to live in the best part of Bel Air, yeah. Doesn't make much sense. Must be some kind of a gag, huh? No, not according to the neighbor who called in. Yeah? They were half-starved. Ben and I got in the car and drove out Sunset Boulevard to the Bel Air District. We pulled up in front of a large two-story home near the corner of Brookline Avenue and Knightsbridge Drive. It was a white-frame colonial mansion set back in the middle of well-landscaped lawns and gardens. The other homes in the neighborhood were just as large, $50,000 and up. It was the last place in the city that you'd expect to find neighborhood children begging food. 5.20 p.m. We went around to the rear entrance of the colonial mansion as we'd been instructed on the phone. We located the woman who'd called in the complaint, a Miss Jeanette Bajan. She was employed as laundress and cook by the owners of the house. She was busy fixing dinner. They're from next door, officer. The children. As I explained on the phone, a boy about seven years, a girl about five years old, I guess. Which side do they live on, Miss Bajan? The house on the corner? No, the other side. Up here. Brown and White House. Just up the street next door. Mm-hmm. Are there children there now? Do you know that? No, but they were here this afternoon again. Here to the back door asking for something to eat. I don't understand it. Something must be wrong. When have they been around often, Miss Bajan? Two or three days. Maybe four days. At first I thought they were fooling, but they were not. I gave them some cookies, sandwiches. They were very hungry. They ate them like they were starving. The little girl saved her cookies. She took them with her. How about their parents? Are they at home? Excuse me. Let's ask. There. That's there. No, I haven't seen the mother the last few days. I understand they are divorced. The mother, she lives there with the children. The father, I don't know. What's their name, Dina? Kessler. Madame, the woman I work for, she says there are three children in the Kessler family. But I don't know. I have only seen the two. The boy and the girl. I would go over and see what is wrong, but I do not know the Kessler. It is not my place. That's why I called you, Officer. All right, Miss Bajan. Well, thank you very much. Not at all, Officer. You understand, I do not mind giving the children food. Well, I think only something is wrong if they do not get it at home. Well, thank you very much for notifying us. We're going to check into it. I'm just a little curious, Miss Bajan. What set you make? This? Napoleon. How's that? Napoleon. You know, Napoleon, pastry. Oh, oh yeah. Sure smells good. Well, thanks again. Certainly, Officer. If there is anything I can do, you will let me know? Yes, ma'am, we will. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. It's a beautiful place. Yes. Those Swedish women make pretty good cooks, don't they? I don't know. She sounded French to me. Huh? Maybe so. Most good at cooking, anyhow. Yes. Yes, the Brown and White House next door, that must be it, huh? Is that name Kessler? They're fairly prominent around town, society? I don't know. There's quite a few of them. Could be. Any way you look at it, it's hard to figure, isn't it? Kids have been at it for four days. If it's on a level, they really must be in a bind. Garage door is open back there. No sign of a car. Kids' bicycles, huh? Let's try the front door, huh? Mm-hmm. I guess we better try again, huh? Yeah. Yes, sir? Hello, son. Your name's Kessler, is that right? Yes, I'm Richard. My mother's not home right now. Maybe you can come back tomorrow. We're police officers, Richard. If you're not busy, we'd like to talk to you for a minute. Is that all right? Oh, yes, sir. That'd be all right. Would you come in, please? Thank you. Richard Kessler was a blond-haired, wiry boy, polite, well-mannered. He told us that he was eight years old and he attended the neighborhood grammar school. He showed us back to the kitchen where he was warming a can of soup that he borrowed from a neighbor. It was a large house, richly furnished, but it hadn't been cleaned for weeks. Dust was piled up thick on the furniture, and children's books and toys were scattered around the rooms along with scraps of dried bread, half-eaten. The house was cold and musty. On a small bar in the dining room, there were three half-filled cocktail glasses, a plate full of cigarette butts. Evidently, they'd been standing there for days. On the sink in the kitchen, there were a few pieces of stale bread and an open bottle of milk that had turned sour. Next to it were a half a dozen empty whiskey bottles. The Kessler boy was well dressed except for the shirt that he had on, as if he'd been wearing it for a week. What did you want to talk to me about, officer? I haven't done anything wrong. Oh, we know that, son. We'd just like to find out how you've been getting along. I've been getting along all right. Two A's and four B's on my report card last month. Where's your sister, Dick? Judy, she's down the street. She'll be back in a minute. How about your mother? Where's she? She's out too. She'll be back. When do you expect her to come? Pretty soon. She's coming back pretty soon. Your sister, Judy, she's younger than you are, isn't she, Dick? Yes. Judy's only six. I made. Any other grownups live here with you beside your mother? No. Mom takes care of us. She'll be back pretty soon. We'd like to have you tell us the truth now, Dick. How long has she been gone? I don't know. Probably important. She's been here a long time. She can come back tomorrow. She'll probably be here then. When was the last time you saw her, son? Son, how about that? A couple of days ago. Well, this is Tuesday. You mean she left the house Sunday? No, before that. Last Friday night she went out. Said she'd be back. I don't know. Did your mother say where she was going, Dick? No. Her boyfriend was here. I don't know his last name. Mom went out with him to a party, I think. I don't know where. She'll be back all right. Did you leave anyone to take care of? No, we can take care of ourselves. I'm going to be sick of cooking, though. I don't know how yet. I'd better look at the soup on the stove. I'll take care of it, son. Go ahead. Sit down. Has your mother ever left you like this before, son? Maybe once or twice. She never stayed away this long, though. I don't know. What's the matter, Dick? Well, Johnny, officer. My little brother. He hasn't eaten much for a while. Must be hungry by now. I was fixing the soup for him. Where's Johnny? He's upstairs in the nursery. He's been sick with a bad cold. Mom knew Johnny was sick. That's why I wondered. She hasn't come back yet. I don't think Johnny's feeling good. Do you want to take us up to the inside? Yeah, all right. If you want. Yeah. How long has Johnny had this cold, Dick? A couple of days before Friday. Before Mom left. How old is he? Johnny's just a little kid. He won't be two years old until July. I've been wondering about him. He coughed a lot at first. He's been giving him milk and cookies. I said Judy in my head. I don't know. Has the doctor been to see Johnny? No, I thought of calling him. I didn't know the doctor's name. I was waiting until Mom got home. Oh, no, this is Johnny's room here. Mm-hmm. They're in the crib, Officer. That's my brother Johnny. Pretty cold in here. Yeah, let's have a look. Hey, there you go, son. Hi, Johnny. You hungry now? Yeah, look at his eyes. Yeah, I want to get to a phone doctor and ambulance. Tell them to hurry, all right? What's the matter, Officer? What about Johnny's eyes? They're not that big. He's been acting awful quiet, but... hardly moved around at all. Most of the time, he's jumping up and down his crib like anything. Has anyone at all been in here to see him since Friday? Yes, sir, my sister Judy and I. We changed his diapers and gave him something to eat. I see. She...she wished Mommy would get home. I'd like to talk to her. Yeah, so would I. I'm sorry. 5.48 p.m. We put in a call to the office for a policewoman, and then we got in touch with Lieutenant Lee Jones at the crime lab, and he sent out a man to photograph the condition of the Kessler home and the children. The doctor and the ambulance arrived, and little Johnny Kessler was taken to the general hospital in critical condition. The 22-month-old boy was in a coma. Richard Kessler and his sister Judy were taken to Georgia Street Juvenile Bureau and then transferred to Juvenile Hall and placed under protective custody Section 700 sub B Welfare and Institution Code. The two of them were given a bath and something to eat. Judy Kessler was interrogated separately by a policewoman. Ben and I talked to the boy, Richard. After a few minutes, he broke down and admitted that his mother had gone off and left the three children alone on at least a half a dozen occasions. He told us his parents were divorced. He rarely saw his father, but his mother had had two or three boyfriends at the house during the past year. He also told us his mother drank quite a bit. But she's never been gone this long before, Sergeant. Maybe she's out somewhere and has nowhere to get home. We'll find her all right, son. Don't you worry about it. This boyfriend of your mother's, Dick, his first name was Larry. Is that all you can tell us? Yes, sir. I don't know his last name. Are you going to keep us here all night, Judy and me? Just for a day or so. That'll take good care of you, huh? Where did you take Judy? Well, she's just next door, Dick. You can see her in just a minute now. And how about Johnny? I always take care of him. He's always got him over at the hospital, Dick. They're going to take good care of him now. You can count on that. I don't know, Officer. I'd better see him. He might get awful fussy. All right. We'll fix that up for you. Do you have any relatives in Los Angeles, son, aunts, uncles, anyone like that? No, just my father, but I don't know where he lives. Well, we had a nurse who used to take care of us, Mrs. McIntosh. She was well. My mom fired, you know. Oh, how'd that happen? Do you know? I'm not quite sure. Maybe my mom was drinking. Mrs. McIntosh got mad at her. Had a big fight, and mom fired her. Oh, well, this Mrs. McIntosh, you know where we can find her? No, sir, I don't. How about some of the other boyfriends that your mother had, Dick? Do you remember any of their names? No, one of them was George something. I don't remember the other one. Joe, take you a minute. Yeah, Mac, you want to stay with the boy, huh, Dad? Yeah. Hospital calls, it's a lousy thing. What's that? The Kessler boy, little Johnny. He just died. John Albert Kessler, white male American, age 22 months. All the pertinent facts and data would be listed on the crime report. And if and when the case was closed, the report would be filed away. Wouldn't be any different from a thousand other dead body reports, same size, same color, same number up in the left-hand corner. In the course of 10 or 20 years on the job, a police officer sees a lot of them. Most of them he forgets. Few of them he never forgets. The next morning, the body was posted to the county morgue. It was found that the youngster had been suffering from malnutrition, but the cause of death was listed as a basal skull fracture. Homicide detail was notified. The search for the mother, Mrs. Jean Kessler, went on. We talked to her neighbors, all of her friends that we could locate. We checked out an address book that was found in Mrs. Kessler's effects at her home. We got out a broadcast and an APB. No luck. Thursday, April 29th. How about the youngster's brother and sister Ben? You think it could have happened that way? How do you mean? Well, we were taking care of the little fella. They might have had an accident with him. They're afraid to own up to it. I don't think so, Joe. Well, that's not very likely, Mac. We talked to him quite a bit last night. A couple of pretty honest kids. Pretty sure they wouldn't lie about something like that. Where does that leave it, the mother? Good possibility. We know Mrs. Kessler drinks quite a bit. She could have lost patience with the little boy. More chance of an accident than death. I get it. You're a little friday. Yeah, Bert. Where's that? Uh-huh. Right there. Yeah? A woman answering Mrs. Kessler's description checked into the hotel down on South Hope last night. Still registered? Checked out early this morning and found a woman's sport coat in the room. What about it? Blood stains on it. You are listening to Dragnet for the step-by-step solution to tonight's authentic case history. Here, step-by-step, are the actual reasons why Fatima is the quality king-size cigarette. Why in Fatima, the difference is quality. Quality of tobacco. The finest domestic and Turkish variety. Extra mild and superbly blended to give you a much different, much better flavor and aroma. Quality of manufacture. Smooth, round, perfect cigarette. Rolled in the finest paper money can buy. Manufactured in the newest and most modern of all cigarette factories. Quality even to the appearance of the bright, clean, gold and yellow package. Carefully wrapped and sealed to bring you Fatima's rich, fresh, extra mild flavor. Compare Fatima yourself. Fatima's now cost the same as other long cigarettes, but your first puff will tell you. Ah, not different. Yes, in Fatima, the difference is quality. Start enjoying Fatima's quality yourself. Insist on Fatima. The quality king-size cigarette. Best of all, long cigarettes. ["The Star-Spangled Banner"] Friday, April 30th. We were still without a lead at the whereabouts of the missing mother, Mrs. Jean Kessler. The blood-stained coat which had been found in the South Hope Street Hotel was shown to Mrs. Kessler's friends and to her children, Richard and Judy. They identified it as belonging to the missing woman. Routine investigation of the hotel room failed to uncover any further leads. We got out a supplementary APB and then we started rechecking with the Kessler woman's friends and acquaintances. Nothing. We rechecked a dozen taverns and cocktail lounges that she'd been known to frequent. No sign of her, no sign of her boyfriend. In rechecking her personal effects, we found a cancel check payable to their former nurse, Mrs. McIntyre. The endorsements carried her abject. We checked it out. She'd moved. We traced it to the forwarding address. There we were told that she had a new job as a nurse maid with a wealthy family living in the Los Feliz district. We crawled there and talked to Mrs. McIntyre, and she told us that she was just leaving the house with the three children for an outing at the park and the zoo. We made arrangements to meet with her out there, 1.30 p.m. Ben and I located her at the head of the path leading to the main part of the Griffith Park Zoo. I read about it in the paper, Sergeant, about Johnny. I didn't know you wanted to talk to me. I would have called in if I did. We're still trying to locate the mother, Mrs. McIntyre. Can you help us out there at all? I don't know if you asked at those places she used to go to all the time where she used to drink. Yes, ma'am, we have. They couldn't help us. Did you know any of Miss Kepler's boyfriends or ones that had come to the house? Yes, I knew all of them. Donald, don't you wander off now. Same for you, Patsy. You stay close. The boy, Richard, he was telling us about one of the boyfriends, ma'am, fellow named Larry. Oh, yes. Donald, you heard what I said. You stay close. Yes, I knew Larry. Do you remember what his last name was, ma'am? Yes, Barthel, some kind of an actor in the movies, I think. Larry Barthel. Do you know where he lives? No, I think he had an apartment in Hollywood. I wouldn't know the address. What kind of a man was this Barthel? I mean, he's kept him in these things like that. Well, I think he was kind of lazy. I think that Miss Kepler was giving him money. Do the two of them ever argue or have any fights? All the time. He had a terrible temper. Do you ever strike, Miss Kepler? Yes, I saw it happen several times. Not too close to the cage, Donald. Back a little. How did this Barthel act toward the children, Mrs. McIntyre? Different, I guess. Annoying sometimes. Well, that was after that you had the argument with Miss Kepler? Yes, it was about her drinking and her boyfriend and all the rest. I just got sick of it and I told her what I thought. She didn't want to admit she was getting old. She was not caring for the children. She turned into a still woman in her twenties. Well, do you have any idea where my little teetha pot is? Well, they divorced, you know. They had salesmen for lumber concerned downtown. He inherited most of his money. I have the name of the company at home. You can have it if you like. Yes, ma'am. We'd appreciate that. You know, it's the children I feel sorry for. Yes, ma'am. Three beautiful children. And that poor little Johnny, I just can't understand. What's that? How could anyone deserve a helpless baby like that? Well, ask his mother. Friday, 5 p.m. Mrs. McIntyre called us at the office and gave us the business address of the missing woman's ex-husband, Richard Lane Kepler. They were there, but they told us Kepler was away on a week's vacation. They had no idea where to contact him, but he was expected back in a few days. We called Central Casting and asked them to check their talent list for a bit player by the name of Larry Bartel. They had no such name listed. Saturday, 8 a.m. The Kepler children, Richard and Judy, remained in the custody of juvenile authorities. The search for their mothers continued. All day Saturday, Ben and I ran down what few leads we had. They went nowhere. The doctors, the morgues, the city hospitals, and the drunk tank at the main jail still failed to turn up the missing woman. We checked again at the different drinking places we used to pat the man. No one had seen her. 5.30 p.m. We went back to the office. A lot of molly today. Yeah, there's not much to show for it. Not going to be much fun for those Kepler kids this Sunday. Why? What do you mean? First Sunday in May. Huh? Mother's Day. Oh, yeah. Hi, Mac. Got a piece of news for you. Yes? Kepler woman's boyfriend, Larry Bartel. What about him? He's been located. When he'd seen his name mentioned the previous night in the newspaper stories concerning the case, Larry Bartel had contacted the office to let us know that he didn't consider himself a fugitive. That links that with his story. He called just a few minutes before we got back to the office. He left word that he could be found at a Wilshire address all day Sunday. In the meantime, he'd be at the Spotlight Club, the club for theatrical people located in West Hollywood. 6.25 p.m. Ben and I located him at the club back in the billiards room. He was tall, dark-haired, dressed extensively. I told the cop when I called in you weren't supposed to contact me. That was important. That little Kepler boy's dead, Bartel. We think that's pretty important. I didn't know anything about that. You didn't have to interrupt me. That's an important man I was playing with. Now what do you want to know? Where is this Kepler? Why ask me? I don't know. You're a pretty good friend of hers. You were the last person seen with him. I met a girl. We went out to a party last Friday night. I haven't seen her since the following Monday. Yeah, last Monday. I'm through with her anyway. What about the room? I just got sick of her. That's all. Pawing all over me, asking me to marry her. I just got sick of her. It wasn't worth it. You accepted money from her? Just a time ago. She had plenty of it. Why not? Where'd you last see her? At Pizza Horses and I would like to get around the club. There's a hotel downtown on South File Rock, Kitty Jandy. Were you at another hotel with Miss Kepler last week? Yeah. Yeah, on South Hope Run, Main Street, I think. Oh, that's where you found a coat, huh? You got an explanation for that? Bud's thing? Sure. Crazy thing. Tell her I threw it, then she tried to hit me in the bottle. Cut herself. Boy, I tell you, it just wasn't worth it that time. I guess you can prove everything you're telling yourself. Of course I can prove it. It's the truth. And what about the little boy? How'd that happen? I didn't have anything to do with it. It wasn't my fault. Well, how'd it happen? That Friday night, just before we left the house. The old lady was downstairs having a few drinks. She put the little kid to bed, and he went to bed. He was getting up out of bed and running downstairs crying. Yeah, I can't remember. Ah, she finally took the kid to him, a good spanking, threw him back in bed. I think he hit his head and wanted to force the crew. Why didn't you do something about it? Well, I told her, but she said there was nothing that didn't matter. Got a coat for us, that's all. Kids are all riding with less. You mean all the time you and Mrs. Kepler went out, you knew those children were being left all alone in that house? Oh, what? I'd have cheesed them, other than me. I gotta get back. I got that game being on. I'm gonna wait a little longer. Come on. The bar was taken downtown and held for questioning on suspicion of 702WIC, contributing to negligence of minors. They had an old-fashioned player piano going full volume in the bar. The sound followed us up the stairs. Tenants, you sure must like their music. Yes. Like the fairies, in 250? Yeah. We better try it. Yeah. Let's have a look. Who's that? Who is it? You and Mrs. Jean, Kepler? What is it? Who are you? Police officer. I'd like to talk to you. I haven't done anything. What do you want with me? I want to talk to you about your children, Miss Kepler. But I didn't do anything. Donnie was sick, that's all. I didn't do anything. That's not what Bartell said. Larry, have you seen him? Is he coming back to me? You better get up, lady. Get your coat. I gotta have Larry back. He's everything to me. I love him. Is he coming back? You've been gone over a week. Aren't you a little worried about your children? They're all right. I'm too young to spend my life on children. I need Larry. Where is he? See if you can find a coat. Will you bet? Yeah, all right. I've been taking no sick. I felt terrible. Yeah? I need Larry so bad. He's young like me. I love him. I gave him all my love. I gave him everything I could. Yeah, you gave him too much. What? You didn't have any left for your kids. The story you have just heard is true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. On July 2nd, trial was held in Superior Court, Department 87, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California. In a moment, the results of that trial. Now, here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you. Friends, if you're with us week to week, you've heard me say, in Fatima, the difference is quality. It's a difference that you can prove just by buying a pack and smoking them. You'll find Fatima's extra mild with a rich, better flavor and aroma. Stop in at the store in the corner and buy a pack of Fatima the first chance you get. You'll find in Fatima's, the difference is quality. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to take a moment to thank all of you for your very fine response to our program, Dragnet. Since the first show went on the air about a year and a half ago, your cards and letters have been a constant source of encouragement and guidance. In the field of radio presentations, we felt that we were attempting something a little different. We were not altogether sure that it would meet with your approval. Possibly, we were sure that our approach to this type of presentation was a sound one, but the final approval had to rest with you. As you may judge by your response, you've placed Dragnet high among the programs that you enjoy most. For this, we're indeed grateful. We've tried to bring you, first of all, an adult program worthy of the 30 minutes that you spend with us each week. We've tried to bring you an honest and authoritative report on the work of your police force. We've tried to bring before you documented police cases that were informative as well as entertaining. In forthcoming weeks, we sincerely hope that Dragnet remains one of your favorite shows. Your letters have been read by all members of the Dragnet production staff. So if you like to listen to Dragnet, it's because you, our listeners, have helped to guide us in presenting the kind of entertainment that you want. And for this, our thanks. Mrs. Jean Kessler was filed on and found guilty in Superior Court, charge of manslaughter. She was sentenced to one year in the county jail and deprived of the custody of her children. You have just heard Dragnet, a series of authentic cases from official files. Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department. Fatima cigarettes, best of all long cigarettes, has brought you Dragnet, portion transcribed from Los Angeles. Now stay tuned for Cover Spy, then it's Screen Director's Playhouse on in.
