The FBI Story Page #6

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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

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