Dragnet

This is the city.

Los Angeles, California.

interfacing humanity...

representing every race, colour...

creed and persuasion...

that God,

no matter how he is worshipped...

chose, in His infinite wisdom,

to deposit here...

in the cultural nexus

of the Pacific Rim.

Almost 4 million people

work and play here.

And like any other place

anywhere...

there are those who have it

and those who want it.

Those who have it, enjoy it...

no matter how they got it.

Those who want it, can get it

by attempting to better themselves...

in a sympathetic community populated

by decent citizens cheering them on.

Or they can try to take it

the easy way.

Because even in the City of Angels,

from time to time, some halos slip.

That's where I come in, doing my job to

the best of my ability on a daily basis.

I work here.

I carry a badge.

Dragnet!

Police, police

police officer, ma'am

Their job

Their job

To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

Their job:

To enforce the laws

Enforce

Enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

Their job:
To enforce the laws

J-J-J-J-Just the facts, ma'am

Just the facts, ma'am

Just the facts, ma'am

D-D-D-D-Dragnet

Dragnet

To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

Dragnet, Dragnet, Dragnet

Their job:
To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

To enforce the laws

Police officers, ma'am.

Just the facts, ma'am.

Just the facts, ma'am.

J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J

To enforce the laws

M-My name's Friday

M-My name's Friday

Enforce the laws

M-My name's Friday

Their job

To enforce the laws

And preserve the safety

of decent citizens

Dragnet, Dragnet, Dragnet

Ladies and gentlemen, the story

you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed

to protect the innocent.

For example, George Baker

is now called Sylvia Wiss.

Hey, who called

the fire department?

What the hell is going on here?

Chief, where's the fire?

See the fire?

I see the fire.

I see the fire.

Good! When you wake up...

tell Jerry Caesar

he's out of business.

It was Wednesday, January 7.

A cool day in Los Angeles,

with westerly winds...

and light, scattered clouds

at 3,000 feet.

I was working day watch

out of Robbery-Homicide...

at the same desk

my late Uncle Joe occupied...

when he served with the department

Many aspects of the officer's routine

have changed since Uncle Joe's time.

Now there are new methods,

new philosophies, new equipment.

The standard service revolver

and simple lead sap...

have given way to Taser guns

and anodized metal batons.

But there's one thing

that never changes.

The face of crime. It just gets bigger

and badder and uglier every day.

My partner's name is Frank Smith.

The boss is Captain Gannon.

My name's Friday.

- Joe.

- Captain.

Frank's late.

Must've been held up in traffic.

- Frank won't be coming in today.

- 24-hour virus?

- Or tomorrow.

- Forty-eight?

Frank quit.

Bought a goat farm.

Moved to Ukiah. Left you this note.

He was too broken up to talk about it.

Said he knew you'd understand.

Every man has a dream to chase.

Frank's was that goat farm.

- I understand. But tell me something.

- Yeah?

Those 3.6 million citizens who expected

him to be on the job this morning...

will they understand?

Captain Gannon had assigned me

to investigate the Pagan robberies...

a pattern of serial crimes

which had occurred throughout the city.

They'd seemed merely irritating,

but were gaining notoriety...

through their growing frequency

and naked brazenness.

I was to contact my new partner

at the central receiving lot.

A less experienced officer might have

been concerned he was getting potluck.

But I knew that any detective

the department had to offer me...

was automatically worthy

of my respect.

- Sergeant Friday?

- Who wants to know?

I'm Pep Streebek,

your new partner.

- Not looking like that, you aren't.

- Really? What's that mean?

It means I don't care what

undercover rock you crawled out from...

there's a dress code for detectives

in Robbery-Homicide.

Section 3-605...

.10,.20,.22,.24,.26,

.50,.70,.80.

It specifies clean shirt, short hair,

tie, pressed trousers...

sports jacket or suit and leather shoes,

preferable with a high shine.

Streebek's unauthorized outfit

and facial growth were history.

For the first time in 12 years, I rolled

into traffic with a new partner.

Detective Pep Streebek:

Male, Caucasian...

six feet, 165 pounds...

no distinguishing scars.

He had an extensive list

of merit citations which was tainted...

by his total disregard

for departmental procedure.

He pictured himself

as some hipster, free-bird cop.

But his wings were about

to be clipped...

because now he was going to play

the detective game by my rules.

Friday, we're allowed to go 55.

On some occasions, even faster.

I'm well aware of the

federally-mandated speed limit.

But did it ever occur to you

that by going 8 miles an hour slower...

we might save gas and ease the burden

on the taxpayers who pay our salaries?

A little extra gas

isn't gonna put the city in hock.

Besides, this looks bad.

Live a little!

It's the vertical pedal on the right.

We arrived at the Griffith Park Zoo...

Los Angeles's habitat for wild animals

sustained in dignified captivity.

An adult male lion and a security guard

had been tranquillized with a dart gun...

and subsequent robberies

had occurred.

These animals have it pretty good.

Simulated surroundings,

three squares a day.

If these creatures could talk, they'd

give the citizens a vote of thanks.

Friday, these animals...

were trapped, stunned and roped,

crated and shipped, dropped into cages.

You think they were in the wild

forming lines, jockeying for position...

saying, "Take me!

I want to live on damn cement"?

When I look in their eyes,

I get a different message.

We'll leave it at that.

Are you the police?

Friday, Streebek. Robbery.

You have some Pagan cards?

Yeah. Three of them.

Left in separate cages.

Let me show you where I found them.

This is Ben, our boa constrictor.

The missing giant anaconda was still

here last night at 8:30.

I know because that's when it gets

its final feeding.

It's not always its final feeding.

Sometimes it hides a little snack

for later.

Just the facts,

if you don't mind, ma'am.

What exactly does a Central Bolivian

Anaconda choose to feed on?

It eats whole, live groundhogs.

- You skip breakfast, Friday?

- Whoever stole it's gotta feed it.

We also seem to be missing

one of these.

What is the approximate dry weight

of the Madagascar Fruit Tree Bat?

You mean you don't know?

This is the one

I understand the least.

Somebody must've wanted that lion's mane

bad to pull a stunt like that.

Although, as Mohawks go,

it's not that bad. It'll grow back.

How do you tell that to kids who haven't

seen a lion and won't want to again?

Kids, it'll grow back.

Yea!

Arsonists posing as firemen

had left a Pagan card...

in the charred ruins

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