All language subtitles for Dragnet S03E19 Juvenile Division (DR-19).DVDRip.NonHI.cc.en

This is the city Los
Angeles, California.

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

its youngsters have
a love for the game.

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

They chose Los Angeles
for their new home

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

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

In the first year in
Dodger Stadium,

2,750,000 people
watched the club play,

a new Major League
attendance record.

Baseball is the
sport of Americans.

It teaches youngsters fair play.

Sometimes they never
seem to learn the lesson.

When they don't, I go to work.

I carry a badge.

The story you are
about you see is true.

The names have been
changed to protect the innocent.

It was Friday, January 17th.

It was sunny in Los Angeles.

We were working the day
watch out of Juvenile Division.

The boss is Captain Morris.

My partner is Bill Gannon.

My name is Friday.

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

It's a selective ear.

There are many
voices, many cries.

Some are normal.

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

or just plain bored.

But sometimes they
cry for other reasons,

sinister reasons
especially when their bones

have been broken,
when they're starved,

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

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

It's their parents
who caused them.

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

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

Oh, dear God. I had no idea.

Not many people
have, Mrs. Sadler.

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

Kids need all the
friends they can find.

These pictures, it's
just unbelievable.

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

Too much Mrs. Sadler.

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

abused or neglected
children reported last year.

But they're so tiny.

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

Somebody gets worried
or annoyed and calls us.

The older ones
aren't so fortunate.

I don't understand.

Well, older children are
usually bewildered and ashamed.

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

But what kind of people
would do these things?

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

Usually, they're quite
young themselves.

Why? I mean what excuses
could they possibly author?

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

Is he dead?

Yes, ma'am, acute uremia.

Do you see that thread?

His father did that to him.

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

he tried to light a cigarette.

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

Hideous.

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

Her father threw
her against the wall.

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

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

We tell it like it is,
complete with illustrations.

It's a strong presentation.

Thank you, but I
have no intention of

withdrawing the invitation
to address our club.

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

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

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

The symptoms are
battered children.

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

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

even automobile accidents.

So you can see that the
cases we hear about are

a small minority of
those that actually occur.

But are there laws
to protect children?

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

them when we know
there's been a violation

but that's our problem.

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

Usually, the victims are
less than three years old.

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

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

- They cried.
- But what can be done?

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

If you suspect that a
child is being mistreated,

the police are available 24
hours a day to investigate.

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

criminal complaints
against the abusers.

Our district attorney
prosecutes them vigorously.

But first, we got to
know about the violations.

The answer, Mrs.
Sadler, is for normal adults

to love all children
as they love their own.

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

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

It's harsh but without
that power there

wouldn't be any effective
protection for children.

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

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

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

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

It doesn't look like it.

A black and white
checked the area and found

the boy's school
books near the bus stop.

They turn anything else?

A bloody handkerchief.

Oh, no.

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

Thank you so much.

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

It's put out by District
Attorney Eva Younger.

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

- Thank you.
- Yes, ma'am.

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

The missing boy, I
wonder what happened.

So do we, Mrs. Sadler.

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

and attended Eastwood
Elementary School.

11:20 a.m.

We drove out to the Devon home.

11:40 a.m.

Officer John McKee from
Central Division was waiting for us.

He told us he had
found the blood stained

handkerchief and the
school books at the bus

stop behind some shrubbery.

He had checked with
the residents in the area.

None of them had
seen anything unusual.

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

the Devon home or at
Eastwood Elementary School.

11:50 a.m.

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

There wasn't a thing
out of the ordinary.

Chris was feeling
fine. I got him up.

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

Are you sure you haven't
overlooked anything?

What do you mean?

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

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

That's all I know.

Were you notified by
the school, Mrs. Devon?

Yes, sir.

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

She's the principal.

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

Were there other
kids at that stop?

Of course, nearly a dozen.

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

Yeah, that could happen.

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

I thought he might have
fallen or been knocked down.

Streets very steep, you know.

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

I walked all the way to school.

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

Ma'am...

I should have been
at the office hours ago.

I just can't afford
to lose this job.

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

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

May we have his address please?

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

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

possible the boy may
have gone to see his father.

It happens sometimes when parents
are divorced especially with boys.

Chris wouldn't know
where to find him.

But he could try, couldn't he?

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

Maybe his father found Chris.

His name is Lawrence Devon.

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

Right now he's in Burbank.

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

I beg your pardon?

Larry, perfectly happy
to wear the same

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

Just filthy. I never
could understand it.

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

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

What was he wearing
today, Mrs. Devon?

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

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

He was wearing jeans
and white sneakers.

Clean, everything clean
including his handkerchief.

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

It belonged to Chris all right.

It may not mean a
thing, Mrs. Devon.

Brand new handkerchief.

I'll probably never
get that blood out.

12:30 p.m.

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

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

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

Mrs. Lewis had him
sent to her office.

We're police officers, son.

I didn't do nothing wrong.

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

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

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

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

But you saw him this morning?

At the bus stop maybe?

Oh, yeah, I saw him.

And you talked to him?

A little bit, I guess.

Well, what did he have to say?

He's going away.

Did he say where he was going?

I'm not supposed to tell.

Tell us, son. It's important.

- Hi, Chris.
- Hi, Andy.

Here's your missing boy.

Where did you find him?

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

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

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

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

Somebody really made
a mess out of his back.

All right, son, turn around.

Come on, son.

It's nothing. I just fell down.

Who did this to you, son?

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

He needs treatment
right away, Joe.

Yeah, and so does
whoever did this.

1:25 p.m.

We drove Chris Devon to
Central Receiving Hospital.

The boy had been
severely beaten.

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

The boy has been flawed.

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

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

Any indication it might
have happened before?

No surface signs.

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

if he's had previous
skeletal injuries.

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

He also said he
fell down the hillside.

Yeah, he told me that too.

Any idea what he
was whipped with?

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

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

The welts show kind
of a splayed pattern

and I found cloth
threads is several wounds.

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

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

But emotional
scars, I couldn't say.

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

We'll want those threads, doc.

Yeah I put them in
this envelope for you.

I saw the same thing
about three years ago.

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

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

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

- Yeah, we know.
- Right.

It's the next one.

2:10 p.m.

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

but that he would
remain at Juvenile Division

until we investigated the
injuries he'd sustained.

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

accidental means.

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

She would then come to
Georgia Street Juvenile.

2:40 p.m.

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

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

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

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

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

Now, what's your problem?

It's about your son, Mr. Devon.

Chris? What's he done?

It's what was done to him.

What happened to Chris?

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

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

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

His back is pretty badly cut up.

- Marian.
- I beg your pardon?

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

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

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

Used to cause
beautiful arguments.

Between you and your wife?

Yeah. Chris was a normal kid.

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

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

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

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

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

I'm supposed to have
Chris every other weekend.

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

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

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

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

And you know what happened?

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

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

- Yeah.
- But that's not all.

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

The last one was at
ten o'clock this morning

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

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

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

The more I make
the more Marian gets.

That I don't mind
but bosses are funny.

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

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

Good jobs at good dough.

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

How does Chris keep
in touch, Mr. Devon?

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

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

Her always saying
what a bum I am.

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

I put my feet on the couch.

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

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

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

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

Yes, sir, your son.

4:30 p.m.

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

Where's Chris?

Is he all right?

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

the boy sustained
some injuries on his back.

Now, in themselves
they're not too serious.

What happened? Do you know?

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

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

I haven't seen Chris
since this morning.

It appears he
was hurt last night.

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

I have never neglected him.

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

Did he tell you about it?

No, ma'am, he didn't.

It was after school yesterday.

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

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

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

Did you check for injuries?

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

You didn't look at his back?

He assured me it
was nothing serious.

Why? Is there something
wrong with his back?

Yes, ma'am. He was whipped.

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

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

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

But it's not easy.

Yes, ma'am, we know.

I don't neglect
my son, Sergeant.

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

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

May I take him home now?

No, ma'am, not yet.

But I told you what happened.

So did Chris.

He doesn't tell it the same way.

Then bring him in.

Let's just ask him.

Hi, mom.

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

I could have taken care of it.

Are you mad at me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's how you got
those welts, huh?

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

Who were the boys, Chris?

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

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

What did they hit
you with, Chris?

A big stick, like a
branch off a tree.

Uh-huh. Then what happened?

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

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

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

Now, can I go home?

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

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

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

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

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

I guess so but it
didn't hurt much.

Not even last night?

Maybe I'm getting used to it.

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

- You did?
- I can explain it.

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

- Yes?
- This time I want the truth.

Marian Devon was
advised of her rights.

She waived the presence of
an attorney during questioning.

You mean you are arresting me?

Right now, Mrs. Devon.

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

Is it, Mrs. Devon?

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

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

if his friends found out
he'd been disciplined.

That's all that happened.

He misbehaved and
he was disciplined.

How did he misbehave?

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

What could a
nine-year-old child do that

calls for the kind of
punishment you gave him?

Do you have children?

I have, Mrs. Devon. Four boys.

And you've never
had to punish them.

Punishing is one thing,
battering is something else.

The boy made a
mess in the front room.

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

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

As people who
work with juveniles,

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

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

hippies and drug
users, wouldn't there?

Very likely.

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

Maybe I did punish
Chris too severely.

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

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

I've had to do it by myself.

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

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

So you've talked to
the great Larry Devon?

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

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

Did Larry tell you
he was leaving town?

Well, he is, you know.

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

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

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

But choose to swing
the electric cord.

It was punishment,
deserved punishment.

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

What?

Your son's or your husband's?

5:00 p.m.

Bill and I met with
Captain Jack Morris.

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

Yes, sir.

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

She committed a felony.

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

The DA will press and
press hard but the child

and the parent don't
seem to be estranged.

- You know the court.
- Yes, sir.

The judge will try to
preserve the family unit.

You don't agree with that, huh?

Yes, sir, up to a point.

But not on this one.

Monday, January 20th.

The Juvenile Court,
Judge Crosson presiding,

sustained the petition that
Chris Devon was a battered child

and came under the
provisions of 600B WIC.

A date was set for a
dispositional hearing.

- Just in talking to the skipper.
- Yeah.

Marian Devon had
a preliminary hearing.

What did she plead?

Guilty, probation three years
provided she gets psychiatric help.

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

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

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

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

Yes, sir, I know that.

Then why are you going?

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

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

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

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

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

January 25th, 2:30 p.m.

The dispositional hearing on
Chris Devon lasted one hour.

Judge Frederick
Crosson, again, presiding.

Sergeant Friday.

Your Honor.

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

Whenever I see an
investigator in my courtroom

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

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

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

Probation office's
sociological report,

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

The only way I could go.

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

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

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

You enforce the law,
I try to administer it.

Many times it's not easy, is it?

No, Your Honor, it isn't.

A small consolation,
Joe, but you did your job

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

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

and that's who we work for.

- Yes, sir.
- Good afternoon, Joe.

Good afternoon, Your Honor.

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

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

through the worst
embarrassment of my life.

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

And I saw you
talking to the judge.

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

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

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

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

I have to continue
to pay your salary.

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

Is that right?

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

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

Is that a threat, Sergeant?

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