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This is the city.
Los Angeles, California.
465 square miles of constantly
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
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 March Plays]
} 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
20 years ago.
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?
8:47 a.m.
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

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