All language subtitles for The FBI Story (1959)_Eng

Flight number 21.

Flight number 21, leaving at 6: 15,
now boarding at gate 12.

Webster's International Dictionary
defines murder...

as the unlawful taking of human life
by another human being.

On a November evening in 1955,
the definition became obsolete.

A mass murder was being planned.

The instrument of murder
was hidden in a battered suitcase...

at a Midwest airport.

There'll be an excess
weight charge of $13.

Goodness, I didn't know
it was that heavy.

Only one person in the world knew why
the woman's luggage was so heavy.

Only one man knew
that a time bomb...

was buried in the contents
of her suitcase.

He knew because he was the man
who had put it there.

He also knew that the suitcase
would be placed...

in the cargo pit of an airplane.

An airplane scheduled
to carry four crew members...

and 45 passengers.

- Here you are, Mrs. King.
- Thank you.

- Sign right here, Mother.
- Life insurance?

Yeah, I'm superstitious.

It's only when somebody hasn't got it
that things seem to go wrong.

Oh, my.
Thirty-seven thousand five hundred.

- Maybe you'll be rich.
- I hope not.

Oh, now, don't you worry
about me, son.

These airships fly millions of miles
without an accident.

I'll be dropping you a postcard
from Portland tomorrow.

Your attention, please.

This is the final call
for flight number 21.

- Flight 21 boarding at gate 12.
- That's us. Come on.

All aboard, please.

Now, you be careful while I'm away.
Don't get into any more trouble.

I won't. Now, you better get aboard.

- Goodbye, darling.
- Goodbye.

- Goodbye, dear.
- Goodbye, Mother.

Look.

The murder took place at 7:37,
on schedule.

And 49 men, women and children,
who never had anything in common...

became final companions.

A number of organizations
were immediately involved...

one of them an agency at 9th
and Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington.

Thousands of men and women
work for this organization.

Their daily chores
and their lives make up:

A few hours after
the Colorado airplane disaster...

FBI agents joined with engineers
and CAB investigators...

to collect and study the evidence.

The floor of a warehouse
was converted...

into a scaled-down grid map
of the crash scene.

Each piece of wreckage
was placed on the grid...

in the exact position
in which it was found.

The next step was to reassemble
the pieces into a rough facsimile...

of the destroyed plane.

This revealed a jagged hole
near cargo pit number four.

The Civil Aeronautics Board
asked the FBI...

to begin a sabotage investigation.

In less than three hours, over 100 agents
in 20 different cities went to work...

digging into the backgrounds
of passengers and crew members.

They were looking
for any stray item...

which might indicate sabotage...

or murder.

They talked to everyone concerned:

Relatives, friends and enemies.

I understand that you were
acquainted with Mrs. King.

Yes, sir.

She used to live right next door there
with her kid.

He forged a check once or twice...

and he was pinched
for bootlegging.

Remember anything else
that might help us?

No, except his mother
didn't seem to mind very much.

She acted like he was just having
a streak of bad manners or something.

That's about all I can recall.

I guess it doesn't amount to much.

But it did amount to something.

It brought into focus the name
and the face of Jack Graham.

It wasn't much, but sometimes
it doesn't take much.

One time, a crowbar
won't bend a cobweb.

Another time, a falling leaf
will start an avalanche.

It was a lead.

The whole FBI was alerted.

Agents in the field collected every available
piece of information on Jack Graham.

From people who knew him.

From people who didn't know
that they knew him.

- Operator.
- It was all relayed to Washington.

It was combined with information
from bureau files.

FBI Headquarters.

A pattern began to emerge,
and it boiled down to this:

Jack Graham was very sentimental
about insurance.

He'd collected on it twice.

The first time, it was an explosion
in a restaurant his mother owned.

Another time, he stalled a pickup truck
on the railroad tracks.

He seemed very surprised
when the train happened by.

And finally...

he'd insured his mother's life.

By now, FBI chemists
had found something else.

A piece of metal taken from the crash
showed traces of sodium carbonate...

sodium nitrate
and sulfur-bearing compounds.

These are chemicals found
after an explosion of dynamite.

There was now enough evidence
to move forward.

Carefully detailed instructions
went out to the Denver Field Office.

What is your name?

I'm John Gilbert Graham.

- Your address?
- 2750 Pitcher Road.

We want to advise you of your rights.

The door over there is open.
You can walk out any time you wish.

Or there's a telephone.
You can call an attorney.

Because anything you say here...

can be used against you
in a court of law.

- Is that clear?
- That's clear. I've got nothing to hide.

She did her own packing.

I haven't got the slightest idea
about anything that was in the baggage.

But the next day,
agents talked to a family friend.

A discrepancy showed up.

Yes, Jack had a package for her
to take along on the trip.

It was wrapped like a gift.
I guess he wanted to surprise her.

I guess he did.
Do you know what it was?

Well, yes, it was a set of drills
and files and cutting tools.

His mother had a hobby of making
costume jewelry from seashells.

That's what the set of tools was for.

Do you remember anything else?

No, not that I recall.

She said you purchased
a toolkit for your mother.

Don't you remember?

Oh, come to think of it,
I did buy a toolkit last month.

And I put it in her suitcase.
It wasn't important. I'd forgotten it.

We've checked all the stores
in Denver that sell that kind of thing.

Yeah, well...
Well, I didn't buy it in Denver.

But you haven't been out of Denver
for two years. We've checked that too.

Look, we wanna remind you again
that you have certain rights.

You bet I have, and I wanna
get this straight.

Are you insinuating
I blew up that plane?

No. We don't insinuate.

We simply collect evidence.

Well, okay, I got nothing
to be afraid of, then.

I didn't do anything.

- Do you mind if we search your home?
- No, I don't care.

You won't find anything.

Sign this waiver, please.

In Graham's house,
the agents found a small coil of wire.

The kind which can be used
to detonate dynamite.

And finally, they found the last link.

A storekeeper verified
that he'd sold material to Jack Graham.

The sales order read:

"One timing device,
25 sticks of dynamite."

A medical doctor
attested to the fact...

that Graham
was in sound mental condition.

Graham formally acknowledged
that he was not speaking under duress.

He acknowledged a lot more too.

So then I slipped the bomb
into her suitcase.

Twenty-five sticks of dynamite...

two electric primer caps,
a timer and a six-volt battery.

Stand up.

Put the cuffs on him.

In case I get any mail...

you can send it to Cañon City Prison
for the next month or so.

After that, you can send it to hell.

Jack Graham's only mistake
was that he was absent-minded.

He forgot about the broad research powers
of the FBI.

Its high-speed communications,
its endless flow of vital correspondence.

A laboratory equipped
to analyze any and all documents.

The serology section...

geared to break down
every known blood sample.

A firearms section,
containing 2000 weapons.

Rifles, shotguns, pistols,
revolvers and machine guns...

most of them collected
from its clientele.

It took years to build up the FBI,
to train it and retrain it...

to staff it with lawyers, accountants,
scientists, all working together.

So when Jack Graham
took on the modern FBI...

he took on too much and too many.

He bargained badly.

Now, in the old days, Jack Graham
might've gotten off a lot cheaper.

He could have killed 49 people
for a little under $11, tax included...

because the bureau
was a haphazard outfit.

Nobody knew exactly how
it got started or where it was going.

As a matter of fact,
it wasn't really a bureau...

it was sort of an afterthought.

Now, here is the original building
in Washington.

We occupied one small floor
of that building.

It was out-of-date, disorganized.

Didn't even have enough space
to keep decent records.

Actually, that was sort of
the main incentive...

for catching a criminal in those days:

Arrest him before his file gets too thick.

And on top of that,
there was a lot of politics.

It was that way too
in some of the field offices.

Knoxville, for instance.

I know because I was there.

It was early May in 1924.

There were some good men, all right,
but there was politics and laziness too.

And nothing ever seemed to be
planned or worked out.

I've seen pillow fights
that were better organized.

No, no, no. Push it harder. Push it.
It might catch on or something.

Chip, you'll have to squeeze
on through there.

We're trying to fix this fan.

Six times I wrote them
in Washington about that fan.

Six times I told them
we're gonna swelter down here.

- What's that?
- Affidavits.

And they don't even bother
to answer. Not a line.

Marge, how many times
did I write them?

Six times, sir.

That's right, six times.

And not one line back,
not one measly line.

And in the meantime,
we sit here and swelter.

- Harry, about these affidavits...
- Let me ask you just one fair question.

- Does it seem warm in here to you?
- Well, yes, I guess so.

It's sweltering, that's what it is.
And they give us one measly fan.

- And that don't work.
- This is important.

These affidavits.
They're from Fairfield County.

I got four of them,
from four people.

There are a lot of other people
just like them.

- Just like what?
- It's a system that's been going on.

- The people are in bondage out there.
- Somebody's got them locked up?

That's practically it.
Yeah, they're tied to the land.

They're even afraid to vote.

It's happening all over Fairfield County.

And it works just as easy as pie.

Now, suppose a fella gets
put into jail for some reason.

All right, the land owners
go to the magistrate...

and they pay off the fella's fine.

Then bring him back
and let him work it off.

Only, he never gets it worked off.

And the debt just keeps building up
and building up and piling up...

I don't know what we can do about it.

I told you, faster.
You're slower than the fan.

Whirl it. Whirl it.

I'll tell you what we can do about it.
We can send a report in to Washington.

We're not gonna waste
one more 2-cent stamp...

till we get this thing fixed there
about that fan.

These people can't vote.

They don't need to until November.
In the meantime, we sit here and swelter.

People's rights are being violated.

What if they are?
We don't know anything about it.

We've never had a case
on anything like that.

What if you didn't have a case on murder?
Would you let that go?

You'd let somebody stab people because
you didn't have a catalog number on it?

- Oh, don't be silly.
- This is the same thing.

- It's exactly the same thing.
- All right, all right.

- Send in your report. Send it in, send it in.
- Attaboy, Harry. Thank you, Harry.

I'm just trying to keep things
in perspective around here, that's all.

Afternoon mail.

Don't we never get
any magazines anymore?

- Oh, hi, Chip.
- Hi, Sam.

- There was a call for you from the library.
- Yeah.

How do you suppose a fella
like Harry ever got into the bureau?

- Breaking and entering. Clear violation.
- Yeah.

Some state bigwig pushed it
to get him off their payroll.

Well, well, well.

Drop your paper clips, everybody.
We're gonna take a trip, on the house.

Now, in the first place,
the bureau's got a new director.

"Special Agent in Charge, SAC Dakins,
Agent Hardesty and Agent Crandall...

are hereby instructed
to report to Washington...

at 9:00 on the morning
of May 29."

That's good.
Now you can tell them about the fan.

And don't think I won't.

Sure. Sure, you will.

- Hey, what do you suppose it means?
- I don't know.

All right, everybody, get your paperwork
all straightened out, now.

I'll be at the library, Harry.

- Good luck.
- Yeah, thanks.

Yeah.

Good morning.

I wonder, do you happen
to have that book?

Well, if we do, it'll be
in the Mystery section.

- I'll show you.
- Thank you.

Darling, not every day.
Somebody's going to notice.

Nobody can read books quite that fast.

You've got nothing
to worry about, Lucy.

I always pick books with large print,
you see.

Oh, I'm sorry.

You know, I wish they'd sort of
spread things out here a little.

Kind of cramped in here.

Look at all these books, too.

It's not very romantic, kissing somebody
right in the middle of the murder section.

You've got a better suggestion?

Well, as a matter of fact, I have.
That's why I came over.

Lucy, I think we ought to get married.

Married? Well, right away?

Oh, no, tomorrow
will be soon enough, I think.

Chip, you're crazy.

You can't just go get married
like ordering a ham sandwich.

You can if you're hungry.

We love each other, don't we?

Well, why tomorrow?

Well, you see, word has just come in
that I have to go to Washington...

at the end of the month.

And I'm not sure when I'll be back.
I'm not sure I'll ever be back at all.

You know, I may be transferred.

So we'll have to get married right away,
and then we can work in a honeymoon.

Well, it's impossible.

Why, you don't think
your folks would approve?

No, that's not it.

- I won't.
- What?

Now, we've talked
about this before, Chip.

Well, you mean my job, huh?

I love you very much, Chip.

But I wouldn't marry you tomorrow
or any other day...

as long as you work for that bureau.

- You're not being fair.
- I don't think you're being fair to yourself.

You spent five years getting a degree.
Working and going to school.

And then you get stuck
in some dinky little rut.

I'm not against government work, Chip,
but, well, do something important.

Well, honey, I'm awful sorry. They just
wouldn't let me start as a senator.

Now, that's not what I mean,
and you know it.

I'm not looking for a lot of money
or a big mansion.

I just hate to see you sliding along,
year after year...

with nothing to show for it
except a payroll number...

and maybe a pat on the back
from some political appointee.

You're too good for that, Chip.

Well...

I guess that's pretty clear, isn't it?

I hope so.

Well, Lucy, let me ask you something.

If I were to leave the bureau,
would you marry me then?

Let me ask you something.

How much would you really mind
giving it up?

Now, be honest, Chip.
It's not that good a job.

You've said so yourself.

Well, I know, that's true, but...

I know there isn't much reason
for me to stay, but I...

Well, anyway, I think I'd give up anything
to marry you, Lucy.

I really would.

Well, then, stop stalling and do it.

Well, now, I still have to go
to Washington to resign.

And I have to go to work.

I wonder who she's meeting in here.

"Do you, John Michael Hardesty...

accept in holy matrimony this woman,
for better or for worse...

in sickness or in health,
until death do you part?"

I do.

"Do you, Lucy Ann Ballard...

accept in holy matrimony this man,
for better or for worse...

in sickness or in health,
until death do you part?"

I do.

Then, as a minister
and servant of God...

I pronounce you bound
in holy matrimony.

I'll get the car.

Oh, baby, you just look beautiful.

I'm glad, son, about your going into
the law business for yourself.

- It's a right smart move.
- Thank you very much.

I'm sorry about all the rush,
Mrs. Ballard.

- Guess it wasn't a very big wedding.
- Don't you worry about that.

Anybody here for a honeymoon?

I just might take a chance on that.
Honey, we have to go. Let's go.

- Goodbye, baby.
- You look great.

- Congratulations.
- Goodbye, Lucy.

- We got the tent and everything?
- Yeah, yeah.

- Good luck. I hope the fish are biting.
- I was kind of hoping they wouldn't be.

Remember, be on that Washington train
the 28th. I'll board at Asheville.

- Fine. All right.
- Bye.

For the next two or three weeks,
Lucy and I went bass fishing.

We...

We didn't catch anything,
but I guess that's because...

the car never got stuck
in a big enough lake.

We had nice accommodations, though.

A semiprivate room
with running water.

Lucy said for our next honeymoon...

she'd like to make reservations
at a good desert.

Anyway, toward the end of that month,
we got the train for Washington.

Sam Crandall was already aboard.

He didn't seem too happy
for some reason or other.

Hi, Sam.

And it didn't take him long
to get to the point.

Bring us a couple of glasses
of tomato juice, will you.

Are you really serious about resigning?

Show it to him.

One neatly typed resignation.

And one brand-new lawyer's shingle.

Well, I think you're a fool.

Oh, stop it, Sam. You're just like Chip.

You don't really think
the bureau's any good.

No, but it could be.

That's the terrible part, Chip.
It could be.

Oh, I suppose, if you get
water to run uphill.

Then it'll run uphill. We need a bureau.

The country's growing.
Crime will grow with it.

Oh, faddle.
We have enough policemen.

Do you know anything
about this country?

How many crimes there are?
How many kinds of crime?

We'll tick them off.

There's theft, burglary, armed robbery,
forgery, perjury, treason.

At that rate, I'll be able
to pick up some clients.

Down in Texas,
some fella stole a drawbridge.

That's right. One whole drawbridge.

Men will steal houses,
wives and flashlights.

They'll steal your pants, watch,
your good reputation.

You name it, they'll steal it.
Overshoes?

An old lady stole 46 pair of them
in the middle of Arizona.

They'll steal anything,
solid, gas or rock.

Diamonds, beer caps
and "wet paint" signs.

They'll steal them morning,
noon and night.

They'll take anything you've got,
large, small or medium.

Do they ever take a breath?

Now, that's just theft alone.
Now, take murder.

There's homicide, genocide, patricide,
matricide, fratricide, suicide...

and murder for side bets.

There's murder by poison, by gunshot,
by rocks, knives and scissors.

All right, Sam.
We'll grant you there's crime.

All right, Sam, just cool down, now.
Just cool down.

That's the difference between us, Chip.

I never wanna cool off.

Never.

Excuse me.

Please, Chip,
don't let him talk you into it.

What do you mean? Lucy, what?

I have no idea
what you're talking about.

Yes, you do.

Just don't try to make water run uphill.
Please don't.

What?

I am your new director.
I did not ask for the position...

but now that I have it,
I intend to give it the best I have.

I took the position on one condition:

That the bureau would be free of politics
and would be operated on a merit basis.

This means the bureau
will operate solely on efficiency...

with trained lawyers, accountants,
technicians and clerks.

From now on, we're going
to be known simply as the FBI.

We're going to streamline
our operations...

and do much more work
than we have done before.

And we are going to do it as a team.

The new FBI will not be the product
of one individual.

No one man can build it,
but one man can pull it down.

Henceforth, it will be
a "we" organization.

This bureau will be dedicated
not merely to justice...

but to the love of justice.

I warn you now...

that is the most demanding
of affections.

It will take all your vigilance,
patience and loyalty.

And it will mean sacrifice,
much sacrifice...

to you and the members
of your family.

In the end, it will offer you
only one reward.

You may not die rich men,
but you will die men...

dedicated to fidelity,
bravery and integrity.

Thank you.

What do you think
of the new director?

He sounds like he just might be able
to get water to run uphill, doesn't he?

Well, Chip, I hear you're gonna resign.

You're smart. I'm getting out myself.

The way this fella's gonna run things,
the only future you've got is being dead.

That Mr. Hoover
sure sounded specific, didn't he?

- Hi.
- Hi.

You look wonderful.

You wanted shrimp.
This is the best place in Washington.

I got it straight from a fish.

- How did things go?
- Just wonderful.

This new fella's got drive.
He's really going to do something.

What did they say
about your resignation?

We don't need a menu.
Give us a big plate of steamed shrimp.

Right out of the pot, huh?

Were they angry when you told them
you were quitting?

You're gonna love these shrimp.

They're in the shell. And you break
them open and dip them into...

- Didn't they say anything?
- I don't know why they're so big.

- I guess the mother shrimp lays big eggs.
- I don't wanna hear the history of a shrimp.

You don't?

Give it to me.

Oh, yeah.

Why, Chip? I thought we'd agreed.

I know, I know. I just think it might
help me out if I stayed a while.

- How long?
- A couple of years.

I could really learn a lot
in this new setup, Lucy.

Criminology, new techniques.
Make a lot better lawyer.

You don't have to be Clarence Darrow
the first week.

Besides, we have to settle down...

and start leading our life
the way we intend to lead it.

Honey, they're gonna start
a whole training program.

They'll have an academy
for local police officers.

They're gonna build up the laboratory,
the identification system.

This fella really means it.
Now, you'll see. You just...

Oh, here are the shrimp. There we are.
Now, just wait till you taste these.

Oh, boy, we got some big ones there.

That's it, that's it.
Very good, very good.

There we are.

Now...
Now, I'll show you how it works.

I'll have some ice cream.

- Yeah, well, bring some ice cream. Later.
- Now.

You don't want ice cream
and shrimp together.

They don't go very good together.

I'm going to have some ice cream,
and I'm going to eat it with my shrimp.

That's another reason why I think
we should settle down.

I wanted shrimp and ice cream
this morning.

And yesterday. And the day before.

Hasn't anyone told you
what it means...

when a woman has a craving
for strange foods?

You mean you're gonna have a baby?

You...

You...

Well, don't just stand there,
get some ice cream.

Two scoops.

This isn't a trick or something?
Are you really gonna have a baby?

Well, I presume it'll be a baby.

Lucy, I'm sorry.
I ought to be shot or something.

Give me that resignation.
I'll turn it in first thing tomorrow.

No, no.

No, I think I'll save it for a year or so.

That won't be necessary.
I'm willing to quit.

I know, I know.

I told that minister
I'd give you everything you need in life.

Maybe you need this.

I might even throw in a son
for good measure.

Lucy, I just want you to know
that I've never been as happy...

as I am right at this moment.

Oh, that's just because
you like big shrimp.

I guess I do, at that. Here, have one.

I wonder where
that fella is with the ice cream.

That was our last afternoon
in Washington.

The next day, Sam and I were sent
down South with five other agents.

We were given simple instructions:

To check on a group of terrorists
known as the Ku Klux Klan.

They had one minor complaint:

They didn't like the Bill of Rights.

They said so in speeches.

They said so
in a lot of different ways.

They ransacked homes...

and defiled ancient devotions.

It was a secret organization...

that was so powerful
it didn't have to be secret.

But, month after month,
we weren't much help.

We couldn't find witnesses.

And when we did,
they were afraid to testify.

So far, we didn't have anything
that would stand up in court.

- How's Lucy?
- I don't know. They got her in there.

They won't tell you anything.

- Isn't that awful, out in the street there?
- Yeah.

- What's this?
- Walter Craig's in trouble. Come on.

Well, what about Lucy?

I'm afraid she'll have to make this trip
without you, Chip.

Well, I...

Hey, tell them
I'll be right back, will you?

Walter Craig was the editor
of a local newspaper.

He couldn't be bribed...

he couldn't be muzzled...

but he could be murdered.

Get out of here!

Get out of here, you hoodlums.

Get out of here.

Get out of here, I said!

All right, fellas, in the truck.

- Where's the truck?
- Where is it?

It's supposed to be here.

Craig, we're taking you out to the lake,
and you're going fishing.

- In fact, you're gonna be the fish.
- You've heard of bottom fishing.

We're gonna tie you up,
weight you down...

and put you on the bottom.

Here's the truck.

Hold it, hold it.

Hey, one of you drivers come back here
and close these tailgates.

All right, I don't think you guys
are gonna like this trip.

FBI. Come on, let's roll them.

Our next assignment
took us out to the Coast.

Two children later, we returned.

It wasn't easy to plan things.

One birthday,
I got roller skates for Mike...

and two weeks later,
we were transferred to a farm district.

I finally bought him
an old sway-backed horse.

And Lucy said she guessed Mr. Hoover
must have heard about that...

because a month afterwords,
we were sent to Cleveland.

We were there a while.

During that time,
I was sent on special assignment...

to Ute City,
Wade County, Oklahoma.

Money was at the bottom of things.

Money and Indians.

For years, they owned small pieces
of worthless land.

With a little rain and patience,
a good farmer could grow mud...

that's about all.

But oil was discovered,
and the Indians were suddenly rich.

And they had so much money,
they didn't know how to spend it.

But a few salesmen showed them how.

For instance, Harry Willowtree.

He had three convertibles
until it rained on him one day.

I saw a lot of examples.

Like Dan Savagehorse.

He built himself a nice house...

but the side yard
didn't look too good.

He met a plumbing salesman...

and Dan happened to like bathtubs.

Dan's father was different.
He stayed on in the same house.

But he'd always wanted a telephone.

So he got one.

Not many calls ever came in...

but if one ever did,
he sure was ready for it.

That was the silly side of things.

The other side was a little more serious.

Instead of selling things
to the Indians...

somebody was killing them.

And that somebody made a mistake.

He killed an Indian on government land.

The FBI moved into the case.

The sequence was always the same:

An Indian was killed.

Right afterwords...

someone showed up
with a mortgage to claim his estate.

Each time it was a different person.
Each time it looked legal.

In fact, it looked too legal.

But it wasn't easy to prove.

I'd been there for months
posing as a cattle dealer.

So far, I hadn't turned up anything.

- Hi, honey.
- Hi.

Oh, you look tired.

Well, I'm not as tired as an Indian
by the name of Johnny Mountain.

Somebody shot him tonight.

- No evidence?
- Nope, nothing.

Oh, are these those little pickles?

What about...?
Should you be sitting down?

- Did you see the doctor today?
- I'll be fine.

Mike, will you get that gun
and get out of here.

Now, go on, beat it.

Go on, now, beat it!

Honey, I'm sorry.
But would you please speak to the kid?

- I will, Chip.
- He's got to get over the idea...

that every time I come home,
I've got to out-draw him.

I said, I'd talk to him.

Well, I guess I had to
blame it on somebody.

Oh, here, I'll do that.
Now, you shouldn't bend over like that.

- Watch the glass.
- I'm all right. I will.

Watch it.

You know, it isn't just these poor
people getting killed every few days.

How do they feel about me
back at the bureau?

- They understand.
- How can they understand?

Somebody gets killed, I send in my report.
What does it say?

"Have verified one dead Indian."

- Oh, stop it, Chip.
- No.

I've never been
so discouraged about anything.

This thing, it just...

Lucy, when you speak to Mike...

you can also tell him
he ruined the pickles.

At 8: 15 that night,
Bill Smith and his Indian wife, Rita...

sat down to dinner.

They had ham, squash and boiled beans...

and tapioca pudding for dessert.

Except they never had
a chance to finish it.

Instead, they got five gallons
of nitroglycerin...

and two professional killers.

- Marshal?
- Yeah.

This wire's about all we can find.

Well, it's just common stuff.
But you better check it out anyway.

All right.

Oh, excuse me, marshal.
This nice couple that just died.

I don't suppose you'd know
the next of kin?

- No, why?
- I represent the Ever-Rest People.

Caskets and funeral hardware.

I'd like to do something real nice
for this couple.

Now, here's a rundown
on our new line.

Walnut, maple, dignified mahogany.

Satin lining in seven different shades.

Blue, yellow, pink,
official Osage colors.

I said I didn't know the next of kin.
Now, move on.

Yes, sir.

All of you, clear out, please.

- All right, you too.
- Oh, he's all right, marshal.

I can vouch for him.
He's a cattle dealer.

He trades down in my bank.

I'm much obliged to you,
Mr. McCutcheon.

I'm sorry to be touchy,
but every time there's a murder here...

the people either hide
or sell caskets.

You all have a reason to think
it's murder, marshal?

One reason is there used to be
a house here with people living in it.

You wanna know if it's murder?
Take a look at these oil wells.

Bill and Rita Smith held head rights
on eight more just like them.

We're getting a mighty rich
graveyard in this town.

And nobody's doing much about it.

Look at the FBI.

We asked them for help.

We never heard a word from them.

Oh, I'm sorry, marshal,
if I sound bitter...

but this hits me close to home.

Close to home? Just how is that, sir?

Well, I won't bother you about it.

Oh, say, Mr. McCutcheon, I was thinking
about going down to Fort Worth...

stocking up on white-faced cows.

I was wondering, could you give me
a letter of introduction or something?

Well, I'd be glad to.
You drop by the bank tomorrow.

I sure would appreciate that.
Thank you, sir.

Anybody see this happen, marshal?

You don't know this town.

Somebody could blow up a house
in front of a grandstand full of people...

and you know what they'd say?

They all had a cinder in their eye,
they couldn't see it.

All we get is casket salesmen.

Just the same, marshal, that fella
asked a pretty good question.

Who is the next of kin?

Damnable black juice in the ground.

This was a decent little cow town
when I started the bank here...

before the easy pickings
brought in all this scum.

You mentioned something last night
about hitting close to home?

Albert here is my nephew.

His wife, Mollie, a full-blooded Osage...

is a sister to Rita Smith,
who died in that explosion last night.

Oh, I see. I'm mighty sorry
for you and the missus.

Thank you, sir.

Things keep up this way,
we've got to form our own vigilantes...

if the FBI is scared
to move in here and help us.

I'll bet my bottom dollar they'll get
around to it, Mr. McCutcheon.

I'll take that bet.

White-collared bunch of scissor bills.

They'd even get shoved off
the sidewalk. Now, here.

This is your letter to the chairman of the
Cattle Show Committee in Fort Worth.

They all know Dwight McCutcheon
down there.

That letter will get you
the best deals in Texas.

You're real folks, Mr. McCutcheon.
I sure appreciate it.

- Good luck, son.
- Thank you, sir.

Thank you. Maybe I can do
something for you someday.

Goodbye.

Who's gonna be the next lucky man?
Here's a dollar.

Sir, you got a bottle. Who's next?
Yes, look at that mustache.

It'll grow another yard.
Who's the happy guy?

Yes, sir, one dollar. Anybody else?

Look what I got here.
Chief Red Eagle's Old Reliable.

Yes, sir, this bottle
contains real vitalizer.

Don't settle for memories.
Live again.

Come on, buy a bottle
and surprise your friends.

Good for cuts, bruises, abrasions...

torn ligaments and an aching back.

Hey, you ladies over there,
you're gonna need it.

Folks, come on, step back.

Look, it's all over. Don't leave me
up here a lonely man. Come on.

Once in a lifetime, a golden opportunity.

Gives back your youth, your health
and a certain twinkle in your eye.

Ladies and gentlemen,
you see the way it is.

Now, those girls should have a policy.

Now, step right up,
ladies and gentlemen, don't be shy.

Now, we don't recommend the annuity
policy to you folks of Wade County.

But this straight life-insurance policy
might come in handy.

Especially for you, Henry Roanhorse.

Thought I could talk that Indian
into buying a policy.

You know, he's a cousin to Rita Smith.

The one that got blown
to kingdom come last night.

- Oh, is that so?
- Say, maybe I could interest you in a policy.

- Lot of killing's going on around here.
- No, I don't think so.

Yeah, well, I guess you're safe.

A fella as thin as you are,
nobody'd know where to find you.

All right, folks, step right up.

That night, Henry Roanhorse
took a ride out into the country.

Somebody killed him and left him
with a coyote to blow taps.

If anybody asks you, just say
I'm at the Fort Worth stock show.

How long will you be gone?

Long enough to go over
to the courthouse...

and check on a couple of wills.

Bill and Rita Smith's?

That's right.

Oh, Chip, look at these socks.
They don't even match.

How do you expect them to match?

Mike keeps grabbing them
for marble sacks.

It wasn't for marble sacks,
it was to keep a toad.

Oh, no. Another frayed collar.

Honestly, I don't know
how that happens.

Well, honey,
I guess I do that with my neck.

Well, the tail isn't frayed.

- At least you're not lazy.
- Oh, well, thank you, dear.

- I love you.
- I love you too.

Suppose the wills
are all registered and legal?

- Then what's going to happen?
- I don't know.

We'll just have to post
a notice with those Indians...

and tell them to get together
and stop being Indians.

- All right, honey, stay off your feet.
- Okay.

I'll be back in a couple of days.

- Okay, bye.
- Goodbye.

Be careful.

Bill and Rita Smith had filed a will.

So had Henry Roanhorse.

The beneficiary was Mollie...

the wife
of Dwight McCutcheon's nephew.

Everything looked legal.

But just to be on the safe side...

I sent the material
to the FBI laboratory in Washington.

I sent one other thing:

The letter of introduction
Dwight McCutcheon had given me.

At the laboratory,
document experts studied...

Dwight McCutcheon's
letter of introduction.

They compared it
with the Photostat mortgages.

Within an hour,
they'd reached a conclusion:

All the documents
were typed on one typewriter...

the typewriter belonging
to Dwight McCutcheon.

The will of Bill and Rita Smith
was dated 1919...

and was also typed on
Dwight McCutcheon's typewriter...

a model that wasn't manufactured
until 1923.

Handwriting experts found
that the signature on the will...

bore certain individual characteristics
of McCutcheon's own handwriting.

Dwight McCutcheon
became a prime suspect for murder.

Within 24 hours, the findings
were forwarded to me in Ute City.

Only a few more minutes
and you're next, mister.

Have a seat.

Well...

No, I can't wait.

You might sell me a dollar's worth
of those Cubanola cigars, though.

Yes, sir.

Feel like earning a living?

I'll be there.

- There you are.
- Thank you.

Bye.

Just once over lightly, Mac.
My girl likes a little scratch to it.

Yes, sir.

Neat, but manly.

We're as ready as we'll ever be.

- I'll be over at the bank.
- Right.

This time of night, they ain't
going in there to cash a check.

See who it is.

Good evening. Just got back into town,
thought I'd drop by and thank your uncle.

Well, it's kind of late.
Our books are a little out of balance.

Well, I just...
I wanna give him these cigars.

Well, I suppose it'll be all right.

- It's Mr. Hardesty.
- Good evening.

Brought you a few cigars.

Well, now, that's real nice of you, son.

I'd ask you to smoke one with me
if it wasn't my busy night.

That's all right, Mr. McCutcheon.
It's my busy night too.

FBI. You're under arrest.
The charge is murder.

I'd like to tell you
what we know about you...

then maybe you'd care to comment.

Just a minute.

Tag that typewriter.
It'll be a court exhibit.

Oh, by the way, we're also gonna put
a tag on those two friends of yours.

FBI, get your hands up. Up!

Up!

So there's only one little Indian left,
Mr. McCutcheon.

Mollie, the wife of your nephew here.

You worked to get that whole estate
into his hands.

In other words, into your hands.

You even forged Bill and Rita Smith's
signature on that phony will.

They couldn't write.

We checked on their oil leases.
They had to mark them with X's.

You didn't want to leave
any possible claimants, did you?

Henry Roanhorse, the cousin,
had to be killed too.

- You can't prove murder.
- Oh, come off it.

I've been surveilling
those two goons of yours for months.

You've been meeting them
at a spot out there in the badlands...

by some odd coincidence, just before
and after each murder was committed.

I'm afraid a lot of this includes you too.

No.

No, he's the guilty one.
I'll tell you everything he made me do.

You'll talk us both into prison.

He made me marry Mollie.

He planned all these things.
Johnny Mountain, Henry Roanhorse...

Why, you...!

All right, take his statement.
I'm gonna go call Washington.

Oh, by the way, Mr. McCutcheon...

you owe me a dollar
on that bet we made.

The FBI did come to Wade County.

Is something wrong, doc?

I didn't have time
to get in touch with you.

- Don't worry, she's all right.
- What's the matter?

I'm afraid she lost the baby.
But she's all right herself.

Lucy.

- Lucy.
- Chip.

- Did he tell you?
- Lucy, are you all right?

- Are you sure you're all right?
- Did he tell you?

He doesn't think we'll be able
to have any more babies.

Look, honey, honey...

Honey...

that's no way to talk.

Now, you can't lie there
with the Bible...

and complain about the way
the Lord does things.

You have to be sensible, you know.

We already have
three wonderful children.

Toads and all?

Sure, toads and all.

It's just that I had such wonderful plans.

Well, I'm sorry.

If you want a son to become
president of the United States...

this just means that you have
to get him out of this batch.

You see?

I was already counting
on writing in the fourth name.

Well, now, look. Look, Lucy.

Just because somebody prints a Bible with
space so you can write in kids' names...

that doesn't mean that you have
to go on writing all your life.

Here, we have our...

Hey, hold on here. What...?

Did you see this?
Look, there's room for 16 names there.

Sixteen is one...

There's more than that.
Sixteen, 17, 18, 19.

Holy mackerel,
there's room for 24 names there.

Honey, there...
That Bible wasn't made for a family.

This is made for a troop
full of Boy Scouts.

All right, Chip.

- I'm satisfied if you are.
- Honey, I'm satisfied.

I'm satisfied.

And I am happy and I love you.

Bless your heart.

Bless your heart.

What do you...? Do you want me
to get you an orange or something?

- You want a glass of water?
- No.

- Something to eat?
- No, I'm fine.

- You all right?
- I'm fine.

I'll tell you something right now.

We're getting out.
We're getting out of here.

- And we're getting out of the bureau.
- Chip.

Stuck down here in this godforsaken place,
month after month, you get...

No. No, I'm wrong.

God didn't forsake it.
He never considered it in the first place.

Look what it's meant to you:
Explosions and killings and murders.

Boy, this is a real wonderful place
to raise a family.

And look at that street out there.
There's a real charmer for you.

One saloon after the other,
and everything that goes with it.

That isn't the point.
The point is I wanted to be with you.

The bureau has got no right
to send anybody down here...

with no churches and no schools
and no decent food and no good doctors.

- No wonder this thing happened to you.
- That isn't why it happened.

How do you know, when anything
can happen in a hellhole like this?

And, boy, that's what it is,
a hellhole.

Nothing but a lot of red clay
and Gila monsters.

Honey, let me ask you something.

Did you ever see a robin around here?

Little robin redbreast?
A little bird?

Ever see one?
No, of course you never did.

Because a robin's got too much sense
to come down here.

And if one ever did come down here,
he'd keep right on going.

Well, I'm just as good as any robin.

And I'm getting out. I may have
to dig ditches, but I'm getting out.

Now, Chip, you sit down here.

Sit down.

I'm...

I'm sorry, honey.

I know how you feel.

You're tired and you're upset,
but that's no reason to be foolish.

The bureau had nothing to do
with what happened tonight.

And you're not going to quit.

I didn't marry a robin or a ditch digger...

I married you.

And you're going to stay
in the bureau...

because, good or bad,
that's where you belong.

Besides...

there are times
when I'm even proud of you.

Lucy.

Lucy.

For the next few years,
we were in the Midwest.

And there was one piece of good news:

I was working again with Sam Crandall.

The rest of the news wasn't so good.

In Kansas City...

Frank Nash,
convicted for mail robbery...

was being transported
to Leavenworth Penitentiary.

He was in the custody of local officers
and special agents of the FBI.

Oh, my God, don't. Don't shoot me!

The ringleader of the massacre
was Pretty Boy Floyd.

One of the man killed
was Special Agent Raymond Caffery.

By federal law, he was not authorized
to carry firearms.

The killings continued.

The FBI was still unarmed.

Gangsters like Baby Face Nelson
knew the bureau could not retaliate...

and they made the most of it.

Civic groups appealed
to Washington for help.

J. Edgar Hoover asked for authority
to arm FBI men.

Newspapers supported the move...

but it wasn't easy to get action.

It's very simple, dear.

Fix the one that doesn't work,
then all the others light up.

I know.

Except the one that doesn't work
is always around back here.

It's never out front. Never out front.
It's always around back here.

There.

There it is.

There.

Pretty good.

Pretty good. Good, good.

- Lucy!
- Yes?

I had some tissue paper.
I put it right up here a couple days ago.

- Oh, it's not there.
- Well, I know it's not there.

That's the reason I brought the subject up.
I bought tissue paper, put it on the shelf.

Jennie took it.

Oh, she did?

Well... Jennie!

She can give it back.
That's my tissue paper.

She can give it right back, right now.
That's my tissue paper.

- Hello, Daddy.
- How do you do?

Well, hey... Hey, come...

I'm going out and play now.

- What's that?
- She's an angel in the Christmas play.

We didn't have wings,
so we used the tissue paper.

- Did you use all of it?
- Well, practically.

We couldn't send her out
with only one wing.

Used up all my tissue paper.

I don't know, I don't think
it's a very good example...

How do you think the audience would
feel if I'd get up and say:

"See that little angel right on the right
there? She steals tissue paper."

Doesn't seem very impressive to me.

Hi, Dad.

Hold it.

Hold it just a second.
What are you doing in that getup?

I'll bet you stole a pair of my socks.

He's playing Joseph.

And nobody needs your old socks.
Joseph wore sandals.

Now, go play with your sister.

I'm surprised you didn't take
a pair of my shoes and cut them down.

Oh, Chip.

Well, here,
you might as well open this now.

It's your Christmas present.

That's the reason
I wanted the tissue paper.

So I could wrap up the present
and put bows on it.

That's what tissue paper's for.

Oh, now, Chip.

- Is tissue paper really that important?
- Not in this house.

Just wrap it up in any old thing.

Any old comic strip.

Would you like it if I wrapped it
in the "Katzenjammer Kids"...

and said "Merry Christmas"?
- Well, let me ask you.

If I wrapped yours in "Major Hoople,"
would you care?

- Or would you like it anyway?
- That's an entirely different thing.

Oh, it is not.

Anything you've ever given me...

I've never cared how it was wrapped.

As long as you give it to me.

- How many angels are there?
- Two.

But Jennie was the first one chosen.

- The doorbell's ringing, dear.
- Well, go ahead and answer it.

You answer it.

Merry Christmas.

George, how are you?
Here, I'll take your coat.

Thank you. Merry Christmas, Lucy.

- Merry Christmas, Sam.
- Some presents, Mrs. Hardesty.

Thank you, George.

- Where's Mike?
- Oh, he's out on the back porch.

Hold it.
Always bring my own mistletoe.

- I'll get the eggnog.
- Good.

House looks nice, Lucy.

Woman's touch.

Why didn't you ever remarry, Sam?

I don't know.

Maybe... Maybe the first time
was too good.

- Yes.
- Here we are.

Three loving cups.

Holy smoke, I almost forgot.

Look here, Chip. Look.

- It's out of committee.
- What is?

Hey, the Wayburne Bill.
That means it'll come up for a vote.

We're gonna get authority
to carry firearms.

Hey, this is a real Christmas present.

I don't think it is.

That means you'll go looking
for a hoodlum with a gun in your pocket.

You bet your life.
And he'll know it too.

That's right.

That leaves him only one alternative.
He'll have to kill you.

Oh, now, take it easy, honey.

You take it easy, Chip.

I don't look good in black.

Let me repeat again:

Get to know this weapon.

Craftiness can solve
many a criminal case...

but with hoodlums...

you sometimes need a good,
conscientious, hardworking machine gun.

Crandall.

Bolt back, safety on.

Insert the clip.

Commence firing.

On the night of April 22nd...

special agents of the FBI
converged on Spider Lake, Wisconsin.

A group of hoodlums was holed up
in a nearby resort hotel.

But barking dogs alerted them,
and some of them escaped.

Sam and I rode down to a country store
to call the Chicago office.

We were worried because the fugitives
were armed and dangerous.

One of them was Baby Face Nelson.

No mind them potato bugs.

They're just trying to get comfortable.

Oh, excuse me.

Schneider's Resort and Grocery Store.

You don't say.

Well, beat a rug.

Yeah?

Yeah.

It's the missus. She says things
are popping up at the roadhouse.

Guns shooting, dogs barking.

It's hell on a Ferris wheel.

Whose car is that out front?

Are you one of them fellas
that was doing the shooting?

Oh, now, that's a silly question, Cliff.

- Whose car?
- Mine.

You can have the keys.

We'll all go. I need protection.

Come on.

You too, Uncle Fudd.

In the car.

We'd better put in a call to the office,
don't you think?

We're FBI. Who are you?

All right, come on, get out of the car.

You all right, Chip?

He just creased me.
I'm all right.

That's good.

Because I don't think I am.

Get a doctor.

- Here, help me carry him inside.
- No.

No, no, please.

I'd rather stay out here.

What's...? What's that, lilacs?

No.

No, it couldn't be.

It'd be two weeks early.

Guess I... Guess I always wanna
rush the lilacs.

Now, just take it easy, Sam.
Now, try and lie quiet.

You know...?
You know something silly, Chip?

- I think that fella's killed me.
- No, no, no. No, please.

- And it... It's a shame.
- Please.

It's a shame for young George.

First his mother and then this.

He's... He's gonna...

Gonna figure
it's kind of rude of us, Chip.

No. No, he won't, Sam.

He won't.

Tell him...

Tell him I love him...

and that I didn't count on
being this rude.

Sam.

"The days of our years
are threescore years and 10.

And if by reason of strength
they be fourscore years...

yet is there strength,
labor and sorrow.

So teach us to number our days...

that we may apply our hearts
from the wisdom."

I can say very little
about the deceased.

I barely knew him.

He attended church
and was a good father...

and he died, I'm told,
because he opposed evil.

Those are the skimpy facts of his life.

However, I imagine they are sufficient
to recommend him to our Lord.

On the way here,
I heard a woman mention...

that it was not a very nice day
for a funeral.

That is not so.

I would remind you that any day
a good man goes to God...

is a very nice day for a funeral.

Edith.

Edith, you've been
a wonderful sister to Sam.

But is there any way
we could help you with George?

I mean, we could keep him
over at our house for a while.

No, it'll be all right.

George doesn't need a man
in the house.

He is one.

Thank you.

I can't believe he's gone.

You know,
I never once told Sam I liked him.

Didn't even have a chance
to say goodbye.

He kept talking about lilacs...

and then he died.

Just as if that was all
there was to say.

After Sam's death...

the FBI intensified its war
on the underworld.

The director sent
Special Agent Sam Cowley to Chicago.

Instructions were
to search out any and all gangsters.

To capture them dead or alive.

One of the gangsters was John Dillinger.

He had a girlfriend named Anna Sage.

Immigration officials
were taking steps...

to have her deported
as an undesirable alien.

The charge: Moral turpitude.

Well, can't you just tell these people
plain flat not to send me back?

We can't do that, Miss Sage.

- We will say you were cooperative.
- That wouldn't be no lie.

- I've been cooperative all my life.
- We understand.

That's how I come to get in this fix,
being cooperative all the time.

About tonight,
you're sure he's going to the movies?

With me and this girlfriend of mine.

Only, she's more like an associate.

And you don't know which movie?

I'll call and tell you which one.

- Now, I won't do this unless...
- You'll get the money.

And you promise me you'll talk to these
people about not sending me away?

Because I wouldn't turn him in
except for having a good reason.

He's more than just a regular
business friend, you know.

We know.

Now, you'll be at the theater with him...

and so our men will recognize you...

do you have a red dress?

- Well, sure.
- Wear it.

- Okay.
- That's all, Miss Sage.

Thank you, sir.

Hello?

- Lucy.
- Oh, Chip.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah, I'm all right.

- You're sure?
- Sure.

- See you later, sweetheart.
- Yes.

I guess Lucy had reason to worry.

Because Sam Crandall
wasn't the only agent who was killed.

Special Agent Herman Hollis
and Inspector Sam Cowley...

died almost immediately.

But not before they killed
Baby Face Nelson.

The war went on.

On October 22nd,
we found Pretty Boy Floyd.

Get in there!

- You drive, mister.
- Yes, sir.

Hurry up.

Hey, what are you doing up this hour?

I couldn't sleep.

Oh, honey, look what I got for Jennie.

We were on stakeout,
and there was this little store.

Here, now...

See? Now, it's got this propeller.

And when the wind hits it,
it plays a tune.

Then you put it on like that.

Recognize that?
That's "Yankee Doodle."

Of course, it's not like you'd
play it on the piano.

It's very nice.

- Do you want some coffee?
- Yeah.

Yeah, I could use some coffee.

What's this?

What's all this stuff here?

It's packing. I'm going to visit the folks.

I suppose that means
the kids are going too.

Well, since I don't wear BVDs,
I guess it does.

Well, I think it's nice
that you gave me a warning.

You're welcome.

So in case somebody asks me
where you are...

I won't have to tell them
I've misplaced all of you.

Well, how long
are you gonna be gone?

That's up to you.

It's up to me.

Well, I don't get it. I don't understand.

That's just the trouble, Chip.

I don't think you ever will.

I can't go on like this any longer.

Day after day, night after night.

Look at that calendar.

I've marked all the different times.

In three months,
I don't know how many times...

on stakeouts and gunfights.

I can't answer the phone
or listen to the radio.

I can't even look up
tomorrow's weather report.

- I'm afraid I'll read you're dead.
- Oh, now, honey, it's not that bad.

It is for me.

Well, Lucy, I...
This is my job.

There are other jobs.

You want me to leave the bureau?

I thought that was settled
a long time ago.

That was before all the shooting.
It's different now.

Well, what good will it do for you
to run away like this?

I don't know.

Maybe you won't miss me.

But I'm counting on you
to miss the children.

You're counting on me to quit, huh?

- I can't quit, and I'll tell you why.
- Please don't explain. I already know.

- In two words: Sam Crandall.
- No, no, no.

There's where you're wrong.

That's where you're wrong.
The two words are Chip Hardesty.

All they did to Sam
was kill him on the outside.

Well, if I quit now,
I'll be deader than Sam.

I'll be dead inside.

That doesn't give me much choice,
does it?

I get to choose
which way I want you dead.

Lucy, honey,
you can't do a thing like this.

No, you... You can't just walk off
and say goodbye.

I'm not going to say goodbye, Chip.

I love you too much.

I'm just going to order a cab...

and when it comes,
I'm going to leave in it.

Do you need any more eggs?

Oh, no. We'll just hide enough
so they get the spirit of the thing.

Too bad Chip couldn't be here.

Please, Mother.

Well, I just mentioned it.
After all, it is Easter.

You just mention it every day...

whether it happens
to be Easter or not.

That's not the point.
I think Chip needs you.

And you need Chip.

You know, I never realized
what Dad had to put up with.

You're a nag. A real nag.

All right, children,
you can come out now.

They're all hidden. Go ahead.

- I got one.
- Hey, I got one too.

- I found another one.
- Me too.

Oh, gee, this is a pretty one.

Did you hear?

FBI nabbed another one of them
big criminals.

Fact is,
they mentioned it in Congress.

Whole rigmarole.

Speaker of the House himself.

That's very interesting.

Funny thing, only the other day
I was reading a piece about the FBI...

and how much good they're doing.

Right here in the Kansas City Star.

You just happened to be reading
an article in the Kansas City Star.

Now, honestly, Dad, don't you think
this is getting to be a little silly?

Digging through the library
for articles about the FBI.

It's disgusting.

Haven't you heard about your dad?

He's a nag.

Oh, that's very clever, Mother.

- Five, six, seven, eight.
- Four, five, six, seven.

- Seven, eight, nine.
- Seven, eight, nine.

I don't have any eggs.
I don't have any.

You don't do it right, Mom.

Dad always used to hide a few
out in plain sight...

so Jennie could find them.

Oh, Lord.

What kind of a person am I?

I can't even hide Easter eggs
without Chip.

Daddy! Daddy!

- Hey! Hey, how are you?
- Hello, Daddy. Daddy...

- Welcome home, Daddy.
- Gee, I'm glad to see you. How are you, son?

Children, would you run
and get the suitcases?

- Sure, Mother.
- All right.

The kids look fine, Lucy.

So do you.

I'm so excited,
I have no idea how you look.

Well, you must be
a pretty good housekeeper.

The place looks very neat.

And flowers.

Oh, I managed all right, I guess.

You didn't write too often.

Well, I've been pretty busy.

- What's the matter?
- Not even a dirty dish.

I suppose
I'm a little disappointed, Chip.

I judged by myself.

I expected you to miss me
just a little bit more than you did.

Oh, well, you know,
the dishes. I just...

That's all right.
I'm happy to be home.

I'll help the kids with the bags.

Oh, what's this?

Oh, that's a letter I wrote.
I forgot to mail it.

- What's it say?
- Don't open it.

- It's against the law to open the mail.
- It's addressed to me.

"My dearest Lucy...

I don't know if I can stand another week
or another day of this.

I go from room to room,
and the funny thing, Lucy...

is they're not empty rooms.

If someone's never been in a room,
it's empty.

But if someone's lived there,
it seems crowded with that person.

Lucy, I need you.

I'll die without you.

All my love, Chip."

Lucy.

Lucy.

Oh, Lucy.

You shouldn't believe
everything in that letter.

I didn't know what I was saying.
A lot of it's a misprint.

It's wonderful to be home.

- Mom, Dad, what kind of truck is that?
- Daddy, there's a big truck outside.

What's this?

Well, I'm afraid
you're not gonna be home very long.

I haven't had a chance to tell you,
but we've been transferred to Washington.

Oh, no, don't tell me.

Maybe you better stand up, honey.

You know, these big trucks,
I think they put the sofa in first.

I spent the next few years...

operating out of the new headquarters
in Washington.

Lucy said it looked like
a very nice place.

But some of the offices
didn't seem too cozy.

In this little room, 16 million pieces
of correspondence...

were processed every six months.

The crime laboratory
was the largest in the world...

equipped to handle any kind of a case.

In the paint section, for instance...

a hit-and-run case in South Carolina
was solved.

A sample of chipped paint
was found on the victim's clothing.

It was burned in the spectrograph.
The manufacturer was identified.

In the automotive-paint section...

it was matched up for
make and model of the car.

The owner was easily traced.

In one section alone, they had hundreds
of samples of human hair...

and samples of hair from every
known animal, even a wombat.

Lucy said the FBI would be
a very valuable organization...

if we ever had a suspect
who happened to be a wombat.

We did have one who was a reindeer.

A trapper from Alaska
was indicted for murder.

The strongest evidence against him
was blood on his clothing.

Our chemist broke down a sample
and found it was from a reindeer...

and the man was freed.

I worked on a number
of assignments.

I was in the fugitive section
for a couple of years.

And during that time, the last
of the mid-'30 hoodlums...

were accounted for.

One of them was a shy country girl
named Ma Barker.

There was only one person
who was sorry about Ma Barker:

Alvin Karpis.

He was a murderer,
kidnapper and bank robber.

He announced that he was going
to kill J. Edgar Hoover.

But it must've slipped his mind...

because Mr. Hoover bought
a plane ticket to New Orleans...

and walked up and arrested him.

Karpis, FBI.

One of the last of the hoodlums
was trapped in a Memphis rooming house.

His name was "Machine Gun" Kelly.

He wasn't too brave that night.

But he did put a new word
into the English language.

Don't shoot, G-men.

Don't shoot, G-men!

In the meantime, they were getting ready
for war in Europe.

A few compromises later,
they were waging it.

Here in America, there were groups
like Teutonia in Chicago...

and the German-American Bund
in New York.

They supported the aims
of Nazi Germany.

Some of the members
were enemy aliens.

Others were misguided Americans.

The FBI was detailed
to keep a running file.

We were to be able to pinpoint
dangerous men and women...

in case America became involved.

Come on, Chip.
We can't pose all day.

Hold on. Wait a minute.
I wanna get one thing straight here.

I get all dressed up and all of a sudden
there's no shaving lotion.

- The camera's all set for 10 feet.
- Daddy, try to get our heads in this time.

Wait, I wanna find out
about the shaving lotion.

Sorry, Chip, I don't use it.

No, never mind. I'm talking to Mike.
How about the shaving lotion?

I borrowed a couple of drops.

You borrowed a couple of drops?

- How long have you been shaving?
- About two or three years.

- About two or three years.
- Oh, calm down. He'll buy his own.

If he's been shaving
for two years...

don't you think we ought
to say it's permanent?

You know, that beard of his
isn't a flash in the pan or anything.

Please hurry, Daddy.
I'm gonna be late for my speech.

Please, get some shaving lotion,
will you, son?

Holy smokes, you...

Gee whiz.

You're all too spread out here.
I'll have to get...

Jennie, sit down by your mother.

Anne, move closer to your mother.
Mike, sit down. I'll cut your head off.

You have to get closer here
so I can get it in.

Where is everybody? Oh, all right.

Dad, you've got your finger
in front of the lens.

You just be sure and get
the shaving lotion, huh? All right.

Stop rehearsing your speech, Jennie.
All right. Everybody ready?

All right, all of you, freeze!

- Did it go off?
- All right, now, everybody in the car.

We only have 10 minutes.

- Did anybody lock the back door?
- Yes, I locked the back door.

Jennie, wait a minute. Wait a minute.

It's a gardenia.

And you see, what we do
is we put it together...

with another flower like you,
and then we have a bouquet.

Thank you, Daddy.

Golly, I hope I don't forget
my speech.

- That was a very nice thing to do, dear.
- It isn't a case of being nice.

I just want the people to know
that her father's a man of the world.

So at this midterm installation of officers
in the Honor Society...

it is fitting that we review the
qualities which we hope to possess.

Those qualities are perseverance,
honesty, scholarship...

and reverence
for our sacred institutions.

I think her speech is the best one.

These qualities,
applied to our future lives...

- It is, though.
Result in citizenship.

And we, the young people
of Alexandria High...

promise not to disappoint you.

So the qualities
which we have to have...

are perseverance, honesty
and reverence...

Oh, Lord, let her remember.

I...

Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot.

Oh, the poor thing. Chip, go to her.

- Oh, yeah.
- Talk to her.

Let's have a little music,
what do you say.

There.

- Now, Jennie, you...
- Oh, Daddy, how can you talk to me?

How can you bear to talk to me?

I disgraced you.

- I disgraced all of you.
- No, you haven't.

You just didn't finish a
speech, that's all.

There are too many speeches
in the world anyway.

Daddy, I tried so hard.

I wanted to do it so well,
and then everything went blooey.

- Oh, now, Jennie...
- Please, Daddy.

- Let me tell you something.
- Don't give me an example.

A what? An example?
What...?

Like you always do.

How one time Columbus forgot his speech
and then discovered America.

It won't do any good.

Oh, I can't face anybody.

- I can't face anybody the rest of my life.
- Oh, no, now, here, now.

Now, wait a minute.
You just listen to me.

You just listen to me. Why do you think
you were up there on that stage?

Because you're one of the best students.

That's why you were up there
on that stage.

Do you think I care what
you tell people...

about perseverance and honor
as long as you have them yourself?

Now, you just remember that,
my fine old friend.

Yes, sir.

After this thing's over, aren't we supposed
to have a tea dance or something?

- Oh, Daddy, I couldn't.
- Come on, come on.

- Please, I just couldn't.
- Right in here.

You're gonna dance with me.

You know, I didn't buy that gardenia
just to see it wilt...

in a puddle of tears.

Now, here, fix yourself up...

and we'll go in
and we'll do the Big Apple.

We interrupt this broadcast
for a bulletin...

from the NBC newsroom,
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Here today, at 7:55 local time...

units of the Japanese air force bombarded
American Army and Naval installations.

Bombs were still falling
on Pearl Harbor...

when Director Hoover and the top aides
were on their way into headquarters.

By 7 p.m. Washington time,
2602 agents had been alerted.

Immediate roundup of all enemy aliens
was ordered.

These were enemy aliens,
not law-abiding citizens...

of German and Japanese ancestry.

Within 72 hours, we took into custody
3846 enemy aliens.

When the war started, the bureau
had a little over 2500 agents.

To handle the new volume of work...

the force had to be increased
to more than 5000.

Ready on the right.

The new men were sent
to the FBI training center...

at the Marine base at Quantico,
Virginia. - Ready on the firing line.

One of them
was Sam Crandall's son George.

You're looking at the most expensive
piece of equipment in the entire FBI.

It was paid for with the lives
of a dozen agents.

Their deaths have taught us a lot.

We have cataloged
all of the mistakes...

all of the slip-ups
that you can possibly make...

and this piece of equipment
is the result.

It is known as Hogan's Alley.

It might be a street in Passaic,
or one in Fresno.

Here are the photographs
of five wanted criminals.

Study them well.

You will walk down this street.

Be prepared to see any of these men.

Be prepared to kill or be killed.

Exercise your judgment,
but be sure before you fire.

Crandall, you'll lead off.

The rest of you men
proceed to the next range...

and stay there until you're sent for.

How's young Crandall doing?

Good in some things, slow in others.

Crandall, with six rounds,
load and holster.

He has a lot to live up to.

He sure has.

Start walking.

Very good, Crandall.

No, you just shot the barber.

Granted, there might be a gun
under that towel.

You should have held this man at gunpoint
and had him identify himself.

That's one of the armed fugitives,
Crandall.

While you're standing there thinking
about it, this man just took your life.

You are right in firing.

However, you should fire at the head
rather than the stomach...

because it's obvious that
this man is wearing body armor.

You should have fired
at the man with the shotgun first...

because his weapon
makes him more dangerous.

You just shot an FBI agent, Crandall,
searching the premises.

Unload and holster your weapon.

Send us the next man
for Hogan's Alley.

- Hi, George.
- Hello, Mr. Hardesty.

- Hello, Mr. Sloan.
- Hello, George.

- I'll see you later, Hank.
- Okay, sir.

Well, how's it going?

If they turn me loose,
I'll do away with the whole FBI.

We're barbecuing a couple of steaks
over at the house tonight.

- Thought you might like to drop over.
- Yes, sir.

How's Anne?
And Mrs. Hardesty, of course?

They're fine. Fine.

The truth is, Mr. Hardesty...

you may not want me to come over
to the house. When you hear, at least.

I don't wanna continue with the FBI.

No? Well, that's very interesting.

I don't wanna continue...

and I'd appreciate if you wouldn't
try to talk me into it.

No, I won't.

As a matter of fact, the last person
I remember tried a thing like that...

was Sam Crandall, your father.

Seven o'clock be all right?

Fine.

Very good.

Keep the fire low, Daddy.
You always burn things.

Oh, thank you, dear. Thank you.
I'll try and manage.

Now, you take care of the music.
I'll take care of burning things.

You think that fire's low enough?
You always burn things, you know.

- Wonder what's keeping Mike.
- Probably a late class.

You want a pickle? Here, give me that.

Hey, have you noticed
Anne and George?

You think that's serious?

He's been in love with her
since he was 10.

- Would you call that serious?
- Well, it's stubborn, anyway.

I don't know why
you can't be an FBI man.

I just have no respect for you.
No respect at all.

If you had a reason,
just one good reason.

I've been trying to explain.

I'm not as good as my father.
I never will be.

Suit yourself.
I just have no respect for you.

I want you to hear
a real piece of music.

Michael Hardesty,
United States Marine Corps.

I signed up today.

What do you mean, you signed up?

Well, I guess he means
he signed the papers.

But he has school to finish.
There's no reason.

- Please, Mother.
- He wasn't even called.

Being called is one thing,
rushing out and signing up is another.

- What has that got to do with it?
- Well, everything.

You should have talked to us.
It was cruel and wrong.

You should have said something.

Well, he did, Lucy.
He talked to me.

And you said nothing?

Not one word about my son?

Well, I didn't know
he was going right out and sign up.

How dare you.

Look at him. Look how young he is.

How could you have done such a thing?

I don't know what else
I could have done, Lucy.

My son came to me and said
that he wanted to defend his country.

It was just as plain as that.

And I couldn't think
of a reason why not.

If I could have,
I'd have been ashamed of myself.

Well, there was no reason
to encourage him.

Look at him. He's just a boy.

Well, that's the trouble, Lucy.
Most soldiers are boys.

For a while it seemed we would
spend the rest of our lives...

in railroad stations.

Early that year,
Jennie went off to nursing school.

And somebody
must have talked to George...

because he finished his bureau training
and was sent out on assignment.

Mike shipped out that March
for the central Pacific.

In time for Saipan and Iwo Jima,
we heard later.

In the meantime, the bureau
was involved in a new activity.

A number of South American countries
remained neutral.

German espionage agents
were operating freely.

The FBI was asked to move in.

A special intelligence service
was created...

and within 90 days, we had men
operating in 15 different countries.

They were all undercover...

posing as American businessmen,
writers, technicians, salesmen.

Our men did a little of everything.

They intercepted German transmissions
on our ship movements.

They spotted submarine-refueling spots.

However, things weren't going
so well in one of the countries.

Federal police were arresting our men.

They were being imprisoned
without trial.

So the director ordered me
to South America.

My instructions were simple:

There were three agents operating
in danger areas.

We had reason to believe
their real identifies had been discovered.

I was to contact them,
relieve them of duty...

send them home immediately.

I found my first man
at the International Club.

The second agent I contacted...

was driving a cab
near the German embassy.

- Take me to the airport, will you?
- Any luggage, señor?

I'm not going anywhere, you are.

Yes, Mr. Hardesty.

Our third agent wasn't so easy to get to.

He was operating a secret transmitter...

up on the western slope
a few miles from the Brazilian border.

Mario, a native contact, was guiding me.

- You wish to rest, señor?
- No, let's keep going.

I have been in these hills for all my life,
and always I walk up.

Never down.

I think God, he forgot to make
the other side of the hill, sir.

The water, she leads into the big river.

And the river,
she leads into the ocean.

- You have seen the ocean, señor?
- A few times.

You are very lucky.

I have seen it only in pictures.

But someday in my life,
I will visit the ocean.

I will do it by hooks or crook.

How much further, Mario?

One more hill, señor.

It is up.

Naturally.

Naturally.

I have brought him, Señor George.

Hi, George.

Mr. Hardesty.

- Well, it's wonderful to see you.
- All right.

- You're looking pretty good.
- Thanks.

Hey, I just happened to be passing by,
I thought I'd drop in.

Say, do you have a drink of water?
I'm out.

Yes, sir. Come on in out of the sun.

- Oh, boy, that's quite a climb.
- I know it.

Why, thank you.

Well, this is our...

combination radio room,
kitchen and bedroom.

I see.

And over there is a stable,
sun room and veranda.

Well, that's...

Well, I hate to break up
this cozy little home away from home...

but you're ordered
to leave immediately.

- But there's still a lot to be done.
- There's a lot to be done everywhere.

But we can operate in other countries.

You're too hot here, so you're
to pull the plug and report to Washington.

Now, come on,
I'll help you pack your gear.

Mario...

come on, we're moving out.

Down the hill, señor?

Downhill.

Besides, George...

as I recall, you've got
a pretty good reason for going back.

Yes, sir. How is she?

She's a bore.

All she does is talk about you.

I'll be glad when you get back there.
She can bore you.

- It's Gerschner.
- Gerschner?

When was the last intercept?

Not since July. Big contraband shipment.
Radio silence ever since.

The birds, they do not fly for nothing.

Something's coming in.

All right.

"Cargo of smuggled platinum...

on its way...

to Buenos Aires."

"Gerschner...

will rendezvous...

near Porto Coimbra."

All right, try and reach
our São Paulo contact.

Where's your code book?

I'll code, you send.

I've got them.

Señor, the federales,
they are coming up the hill.

What?

Well, I'm afraid you're right.

But we can't leave now, Mario.
You better just pray.

I will say to God that he should
tilt the hill a little bit more.

- "Message received and acknowledged."
- Sign off.

Let's destroy this equipment
and get out of here.

Burn that code book.

- Where are your detonators?
- Mario, detonators.

I just need one.

That's all right. Come on.
Come on, Mario, hurry up.

Come on, come on, get down here.

Come on. Come on.

All right, let's go.

Brazil, after the bridge.
It is two kilometers to there.

Come on, let's go.

- Mario!
- Mario!

Mario!

Mario!

Is that the river
that runs down to the sea?

I guess so. Why?

Poor Mario.

George Crandall came home
to what he called "easier duty."

In February of 1945, he and Anne
celebrated their first wedding anniversary.

- Hey, this calls for some music.
- Right.

Hey, this is very good.

Only, if you're married to her,
it really should be devil's food.

- Let's go read some of the telegrams.
- Good idea.

Come on, honey.
Serve the cake, Jennie.

Just a minute.

From my Aunt Edith.

- She says I'm lucky.
- Well, you are.

You can read all those wires later.
Come on, let's do some singing here.

Once again, once again.

Another one, ma'am,
for Mr. And Mrs. Hardesty.

Oh, well, I guess
somebody's congratulating us.

- There you are. Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Oh, my God.

He died at 5:25 a.m.

He didn't even make it through sunrise.

Why?

Why?

Why does it always
have to be this way?

All my life in the bureau, Lucy,
I've been dealing with punks.

They rob banks and they hold up
filling stations...

and they shoot down
innocent people.

A bunch of cheap punks.

Why is it nothing ever happens to them?
Where were they at Iwo Jima?

How dare you say that?

I don't know anything about Iwo Jima...

except the papers
say a lot of boys died there.

But I think it'd be awful, just awful,
if they were punks.

I hope they were like Mike.

I hope every last one of them
was like Mike.

And I don't care if all the punks
in the world go right on living.

Mike was too good for that.

You know, you're right.

You're right.

But it's just that when I think of him...

and when I think of how I used to
accuse him of stealing things from me...

you remember?

Shaving lotion and socks, and...
And I...

I just never thought he'd take anything
this big away from me.

The only thing that I worry about...

is he might have suffered.

Do you think he did, Chip?

I don't know.

I don't know.

But somehow, I doubt it.

Most soldiers
just seem to die in a hurry.

And maybe it's supposed
to be like that.

You mean there isn't time
for a prayer?

There's time to start one.

And that's really all that
counts, isn't it?

I suppose so.

No, but it's true. It's true.

My daddy always used to say
if you start a prayer and die...

well, that just means that you get
a chance to finish it in person.

See?

We'd better go in
and talk to the others.

My goodness, he was handsome
in his uniform, wasn't he?

He looks proud.

He looks as if he intended to win.

And I'll bet that's the way it was, too.

When he started up that beach,
he meant to win.

And that's why I wish
I had one more moment to talk to him.

Not to hug him and tell him I love him,
but just to say:

"You won.

That's the God's honest truth, Mike.

You won."

The war was over, but not for the FBI.

Now the enemy
was international Communism.

It threatened education...

labor and management...

Church and the home.

And yet communists could be found
in all of these places.

They gave speeches,
wrote pamphlets, stirred up trouble.

Some of them weren't that polite.

They betrayed their country.

Active espionage
came into sharp focus...

at a small cleaning
and pressing shop in the Bronx.

An unexpected thing happened.

A tiny mistake was made.

Nobody ever learns.

Fifty-cent piece in the watch pocket.

Sandy, where did you get this suit?

Sandy, where did you get this suit?

Rooming house
over on Kingsbridge, why?

I'd like to meet the fella.

He don't have to wait
for any cigarette change.

His money just breaks in pieces.

The pants presser notified the New York
Field Office of the bureau.

Agents were sent out.

Then the man
didn't give you the suit?

No, the landlady.

This fella piles it outside his door
before he goes to work.

The landlady, she gives it to me.

It happens lots of times.

One thing didn't happen lots of times.

The 50-cent piece
contained microfilm.

It was rushed to Washington
for breakdown.

It was in code. We had no key.

A copy was made...

and then the microfilm, coin and suit
were returned to the suspect's room.

We checked out the landlady
and then questioned her.

Then the suit wasn't with
the regular bundle of stuff to be sent out?

No, it was hanging in the closet.

But it looked all wrinkled.

So I thought I'd treat him to a press.

- On the house, you'd sort of say.
- I see.

He's a nice fella.
Appreciates it when you do him a favor.

A 24-hour watch
was put on the house.

Other preliminary work was being done.

In the meantime, I'd been sent
to New York to direct the case.

We got field reports on the suspect.

He was an American citizen
born in Benton Harbor, Michigan.

He attended college in the Midwest.

While there, he was a member
of the Young Communist League.

After college, he was a member
of half a dozen front groups.

And then, suddenly and mysteriously,
two years ago, he dropped all affiliations.

That night, we got our first look
at the suspect.

He fit the first law of espionage:

He looked ordinary.

His habits were routine.

He worked quietly as a bookbinder
in a 14th Street printing shop.

Later that week,
we got more than a look at him.

He left the house.

An hour later,
he arrived in Central Park.

It looked as if he was on his way
to make a contact.

He headed for one of the cages...

and there he met a man named
George Metzger...

a known espionage agent.

We'd been conducting
a surveillance on him for months...

but had not made an arrest,
hoping he'd lead us to a higher-up.

Maybe we'd found him.

We assembled additional information.

Indictments were returned
and warrants issued.

The charge was espionage,
a capital crime punishable by death.

The biggest concentration
of personnel...

will be around the suspect's home
in the Kingsbridge area.

- But of course, where we must be...
- We enlarged the surveillance team.

Plans were worked out so that
we could case the subject...

at any place in Greater New York,
day or night.

There's your man.

We gave him the code name...

- His code name, Whitey.
Whitey.

For a week, he did nothing
but go to work and return.

- Yeah, go ahead.
- N. Y. 64...

On Sunday morning, he left the house.

He couldn't be going to work.

Okay, thank you.

Since he was a communist,
we knew he wasn't going to church.

Mr. Hoover, Whitey left his house at 8:15.
8:15, destination unknown.

I had an open line
to Mr. Hoover in Washington.

- Yes, sir.
- His instructions were simple:

"Stay with our man
until we can establish the last link...

actual transfer of information."

Get me Supervisor 12.

There he is.

N.Y. 32 to N.Y. 19,
in control and dropping.

He's all yours.

Whitey is boarding elevated
at Kingsbridge Road.

Our footmen are on him.

Operator 19 will report 1100.

What's the latest position report
on Whitey?

Still aboard at Chambers Street.
It's an express.

The next uncovered spot
is Bowling Green.

All right, get the nearest units
down to Bowling Green.

Mr. Hardesty.

Whitey boarded uptown
IRT at Bowling Green.

Right.

Go ahead.

Sir, he's trying to shake
the surveillance.

Do you have sufficient manpower?

Yes, sir. It looks as if he intends
to pass the coin to Metzger.

- Stay right on him.
- Yes, sir.

- Do you have men on Metzger?
- Yes, sir, we're on him too.

Hot dogs to your seat.

Hot dogs.

Hot dogs here.

- Hot dogs...
- We'll take one of them.

This is Silvano.

I have Whitey at Yankee Stadium.
Mezzanine, section six, row F, seat 22.

- I'll need some help right away.
- Okay, I have it.

Send all units to Yankee Stadium.
Cover the exits.

Hot dogs here.

- Hey.
- Hey.

- Have a hot dog.
- We'll take one of them.

Whitey disappeared into the crowd.
Gonna be rough picking him up again.

How many men
have moved into the area?

All right. Thanks.

Hit the phone. Move fast.
He'll be tough to hold. License: 7373.

Come with me.

This is N. Y. 15.

I've spotted Silvano
following Whitey's cab.

I'm taking over the surveillance
from Silvano...

and moving south in Central Park.

N. Y. 15, this is the floral truck.

We're paralleling you
on Central Park West.

If you get hot, we'll take over.

Floral truck, this is N.Y. 15.
We'll let you know.

We're blocked in.
Flower truck, take over.

Got him.

Whitey going south
on Central Park West.

He's out of the cab,
walking east on 46th Street.

Whitey entering Broadway Joe's,
West 46th Street.

Our man following him.

Hardesty.

N. Y. 21 tailing George Metzger
reports subject just left subway.

Is walking west on 46th Street.

Okay, I have it.

Ham on rye, please, and coffee.

Control, this is N. Y. 21.

Whitey has made his contact.

They're together, sir.

- Where?
- A cafe on West 46th Street.

- Arrest them when the coin is passed.
- Yes, sir.

What is this?

We've got warrants for your arrest.
The charge is espionage.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

That's all right, we do. Let's go.

Good.

- Go ahead.
- They're in custody, Mr. Hoover.

Good job, Hardesty.

Thank you, sir.

- All units, break off surveillance.
- Yes, sir.

The trial took five months.

They were convicted,
and the appeal was denied.

Well, that'll be all for today, gentlemen.
Thank you.

Mr. Hardesty, from the different cases,
and what you've said about your family...

I think you've led a
very interesting life.

Well, I kind of hope so.

It's the only one I had.

- Hi, Granddaddy.
- Mike, how are you?

- Hi, Dad.
- Hi.

Now, where did he get that thing?

Dug it out of some old trunk
or something.

I guess I'll never understand...

how one little family
can collect so much junk.

·