Suspense.
And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills,
the master of mystery and adventure, William N. Robeson.
A murderer is a psychopathic individual.
He has a screw loose.
He's minus some of his marbles.
No rational, sane person deliberately sets out to kill another human being,
or himself for that matter,
excepting a few of his friends.
When he gets behind the wheel of an automobile.
Then all the rules of human behavior are rescinded.
Anything can happen, and with tragic frequency, does.
The mild-mannered Mr. Milk Toast becomes an angel of death.
A stride his 350 horses,
he ranges the highways of the nation with the murderous vengeance of a latter-day Genghis Khan.
He cannot be persuaded, he cannot be reasoned with.
His headlong rush of
destruction, his own or anyone else that might be in his path,
is only somewhat deterred by the highway patrolmen
who daily risk their lives in the ceaseless struggle against murder on wheels.
Of such elements is constructed the story you are about to hear.
It is a moral tale, but a chilling one.
Listen, listen then, as Everett Sloan stars in,
Speed Trap, which begins in exactly one minute.
How can heroism be acknowledged and symbolized
Recognition of outstanding heroism takes the form of America's supreme military decoration,
the Medal of Honor.
It is awarded to those members of the United States Armed Forces
who distinguish themselves conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life,
above and beyond the call of duty, in action involving actual conflict with an enemy.
For recipients in the Army and Air Force,
the Medal is a gold-finished bronze star with the head of the ancient goddess Minerva in the center.
A laurel wreath and green enamel surrounds the five-pointed star,
which is suspended by two links from a bar bearing the inscription,
VALOR, and surmounted by an eagle with wings outstretched.
The ribbon pad directly above is light blue,
with thirteen white stars arranged in the form of a triple chevron.
The President of the United States is the only government official authorized to present the Medal of Honor.
The award is made by the Commander-in-Chief in the name of Congress,
thus accounting for why this highly esteemed decoration is sometimes incorrectly referred to as the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Only a very small number of the many millions of U.S. Armed Forces personnel,
past and present, have been presented this great symbol of courage to which free men can aspire, the Medal of Honor.
And now...
Speed Trap, starring Everett Sloan.
A tale well calculated to keep you in...
suspense.
Sometimes it takes you years to get to know a guy.
Sometimes on the highway patrol you learn all about a man in ten minutes.
Like the night Craig Hollister checked me out on my new beat.
There's a soft shoulder here, right?
I didn't answer him. I was too busy sweating the grade.
The wheel was easy in my hands.
Too easy, like it always is on a slick highway.
My headlights caught the rain and sleet slanting down from the pass.
Hollister wiped the mist off the windshield.
I thought of loosening my collar, but I didn't want to make a bad impression on him.
I knew he was a good patrolman. They told me at headquarters.
Well, good patrolmen go by the book.
I wiped my hands one at a time and changed my grip on the wheel.
There's a curve coming up.
I don't see why they need us on this road.
A driver would be nuts to go over 30.
No people's speed anywhere.
This turn's called the corkscrew. It's almost slick in the rain.
I found four kids here in a station wagon after the last storm.
I was left out of them anyway.
Well, brother, I'll take this one in second.
There's another rough curve coming up.
We've had three fatalities here this winter.
I don't know if I'm going to like this beat.
That isn't bad.
Once you get used to the blood.
You say you actually catch speeders on this highway?
Yeah, that's how I met my wife. She was speeding along here.
Oh, that reminds me.
Dispatcher, this is 3022.
Go ahead, Craig.
Say, Joe, will you call Debbie and tell her to pick me up at headquarters?
Okay. You'd better get down here before she does.
I'd die like her. She's the safer on me.
You old relic, she could break your arm.
That Joe.
It's awful slick up here. Tell her to take it easy on the grave, will you?
Ten-four and a half.
Well, this was pretty good.
You wanted your wife to meet you, you gave the dispatcher a call on the radio.
That was something they hadn't taught me at the police academy.
I sure hope she doesn't try to break any records. Not tonight.
You say you caught her speeding on this stretch?
Yeah. She was roaring down the grade with her car full of summer tourists,
all of them tanked to the eyeballs.
Including your wife?
Well, I thought so. I rode it up that way.
Yeah? Then what happened?
The judge thought otherwise. Debbie cried,
and her father had just given the county a new library,
so the judge decided that she'd never had a drink in her life.
There wasn't a dry eye in the courthouse.
And you married her?
The best thing I ever did...
I think.
You think?
No. Today was our anniversary.
I couldn't even spend it with her.
She's been up there on the mountain alone all day.
That's tough.
This beats kind of lonely for a woman.
Debbie says she doesn't mind, but I think she's bored.
Well, here's a good spot. Pull over.
Pull over?
Yeah, we'll wait here and follow her down.
Why?
Well, sometimes she still drives this grade too fast, all right?
Without some back of her, she won't take it easy.
So I pulled over, of course.
I was tired. I was trying to get my own wife moved into our cabin,
but the man said pull over and wait, so I pulled over and waited.
I lit a cigarette.
In the flare of my match, I could see he was squinting up the road.
This joker was worried about something.
He caught me looking and seemed kind of ashamed.
Huh? Oh, uh, she'll be along in a minute.
Sure, no hurry.
But, uh, you can't follow her everywhere, you know.
Look, Art, I'm getting a transfer,
and Debbie and I will be out of these mountains in a week.
It's slick tonight, so it's okay with you, partner.
Oh, sure, sure. Sorry.
Hey, what the...
What's the matter?
Look at those headlights up there.
I twisted around in my seat.
Half a mile up the grade, a pair of headlights stabbed over the cliff
seemed to hang there.
Hollister gripped my shoulder.
The light straightened suddenly and got brighter and brighter.
The guy was practically flying.
Holy smoke!
Hollister was big.
He didn't look like he could move very fast,
but he was nothing but a blur jumping out of the patrol car.
He was around the hood and swinging a flashlight in circles
before I could even turn on my red light.
Crazy headlights seemed to reach out at him.
Hey, you crazy...
Wait! Hey, you okay, Hollister?
Yeah. Well, let's take him.
Holy cow, I thought you'd had it.
Close, but no cigar. He must be plastered.
Did you get his tag? The lights blinded me.
I could just see it was a black sports car, that's all.
Looked like a Jag.
A Jag?
Yeah. Aren't you going to call the dispatcher?
No, no. Pappy ought to be parked near a halfway house.
A Jag, huh?
Hello, 2429, this is 3022.
It was a Jag, all right, and I caught a flash of the driver.
It was a woman driver, young, blonde, with a crazy grin on her face.
I felt sick.
I'd picked up the pieces after a few wrecks down in the valley.
It's bad enough when it's a man, but a young girl.
Pappy, we're after a possible 502, three miles north of halfway house.
He just about ran me down. Now be careful, huh?
I'll try to take him. 10-4.
Her, not him.
Make this curve tight, Art. What did you say?
That driver, it's a woman.
A woman?
I think so.
After this curve, you can cut loose for about 800 yards,
and then try to get me close enough to spotlight her license.
Hang on, partner.
Holy smoke, be careful.
Can you get the number?
The plate's covered with mud.
You must have dragged a wheel on the shoulder.
Maybe on the next stretch I can try again.
We don't need the number.
What do you mean?
You saw the car, a black Jag, you said?
Yeah.
A girl driving, you said?
Yeah, why?
Well, that's gotta be Debbie's car.
Gotta be my wife.
In a moment, we continue with the second act of...
Suspense.
Another visit with Joe and Daphne Forsythe.
Joe? Joe?
Joe, stop reading that paper and talk to me.
I'm listening, go ahead.
Well, I was talking to Mrs. Snyder today.
You know, she's the one whose boy had 31% less cavities?
Uh-huh.
Well, she thinks that we should buy bigger savings bonds.
Uh-huh.
She says that when people can afford it, it makes more sense.
Oh, she says there are a lot of different denominations.
They start at $25, but then there are a 50, a 100, 200, and even $500 bonds.
Is that so?
And then with the ones we've already bought through the payroll savings plan,
we'd have quite a nest egg.
Uh-huh.
Are you listening to me?
Uh-huh.
Did you know that the total accumulated compounded semi-annual interest
of the Series E savings bond will amount to 93 and a third percent
of the original purchasing price?
Uh-huh.
I thought so.
Joe, what did I say?
Uh, you said that United States savings bonds are a safe, easy way of investing.
I did.
That they help guard our country's freedom.
And?
They're the best investment in America's future.
I said something else, too.
Oh, yeah.
You said that the total accumulated compounded semi-annual interest
of the Series E savings bond will amount to 93 and one third percent
of the original purchase price.
Well, now, how did you do that?
Husband's trade secret.
And now...
...starring Everett Sloan, act two of Speed Trap.
I stared at the guy beside me in the patrol car,
then whipped my eyes back to the slick mountain road.
So you think that's your wife?
Yeah, it's gotta be.
Oh, look, there are probably a hundred jags on the highway tonight.
Why does this have to be your wife?
You wouldn't know, and I haven't got time to tell you.
Well, why would she try to run you down?
She doesn't know what she's doing, Art.
What do you mean?
She's fried.
She wanted me to take her out tonight,
but I had to show you the road, so we had a fight.
She must have sat around and got plastered, I guess.
Well, she's gonna roll that thing, and that'll be it.
Are you sure it's her?
Yes, I'm sure.
I can see it coming, alone in that house every day.
That's why I put in for the transfer.
But now it'll be too late.
Art, we've got to catch her.
Try to get her before Myers Curve.
Well, I'm doing my best,
but these sports cars, that jag's like it was glued to the road.
No, it isn't glued to the road.
It'll roll just like the rest of them it'll roll.
You want me to try to take her again?
No, not here, Art, not here.
If she speeds up anymore,
she hasn't got a prayer on Myers Curve.
Just hang back and don't press her.
Then he did something that wasn't in the books.
He reached over and cut our growler,
and he flicked off the red light.
I started to turn it back on and felt his hand on my wrist.
Now, leave it off. Maybe we're scaring her.
Art, if she doesn't slow down, she'll never make it.
Then she started her turn on Myers Curve,
and it was easy to see she wouldn't make it.
It's the roughest turn on the grade,
and a hundred foot drop to the riverbed below.
The tail lights hesitated for a second,
like they were making up their minds whether to run into the hill or over the side.
The car slid sideways, rear toward the river.
She was going over backwards.
No, no, no, no, baby, please.
I took my foot off the gas.
Out of the tail of my eye, I saw Hollis to cover his face.
And then I was fighting to stay on the road myself.
Suddenly, the miracle happened.
She'd made it. She'd made it.
Now we had to do it.
Nice going, Art. Nice going.
2429, this is 3022.
We're a mile north, still unable to catch the 502.
She's doing about 75.
Now I suggest you start up and we'll try to box her,
but be careful of her.
This is 2429. Did you say her?
Yeah, it's a woman.
Up to 65.
Is she slowing down?
No. No, she's swinging left.
She's wild, Pappy.
Be careful.
10-4. She's swinging right, Pappy. Let her by. Let her by.
Let her by?
How are you going to make an old-time patrolman
let a drunk pass him on the road?
No, Pappy tried to fight it.
He tried to ease her onto the shoulder.
For a second, I thought he had her,
but the convertible lurched back.
The two sets of taillights got closer.
And then Pappy was off the road, over the shoulder,
bouncing and rolling down the embankment.
I eased my foot off the accelerator,
praying that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
What are you doing?
I'm trying to get her to the right place.
What are you doing?
I'm going back for Pappy.
Well, what about her?
Call the dispatcher. They'll stop her
if she doesn't go off the road first.
Stay on her tail.
What, are you off your rocker? They'll stop her.
That's my wife, and I don't want her killed.
I'll stay on her tail.
But what about Pappy?
I said stay with her.
I'm still running to speak.
Yeah, but Pappy...
Mr. Batcher, Joe, this is 3022,
a mile south of Halfway House.
That 502 just ran Pappy off the road.
Send an ambulance. We're staying on her tail.
This isn't Joe. This is Sergeant Capehart.
I'm setting up a roadblock outside her headquarters,
and she won't get through it.
Go back and help Pappy.
What kind of a roadblock?
It works.
You aren't shooting at a woman.
If she tries to run this block, we'll shoot at her.
Now you get back to Pappy.
Sarge, that girl...
Don't you worry about the girl.
I'll take care of her. Get back to Pappy.
But that's Debbie, Sarge. That's my wife.
I'm sorry, Hollister.
She just run my best man off the road,
and you said she almost hit you.
Now there's trucks and cars coming up the lower grate,
and she'll hit one of them if we don't stop her.
So we'll stop her if we have to blast her off the road.
In just a moment, we continue with the third act of...
Suspense.
We have together
ample capacity in freedom to defend freedom.
This is NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.
Very simply, NATO is an organization of free countries
which have learned to live together and to work together
in the firm conviction that their fundamental unity
and combined strength are indispensable
to their individual security and the peace of the world.
The United States of America is a part of NATO.
You should be aware of and alert to the objectives and programs
of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.
Now.
Starring Everett Sloan, act three of Speed Trap.
I felt sorry for the man beside me.
I knew what was happening outside headquarters.
A couple of patrol cars rolling into position,
spotlights pointed up the grade,
the guys drawing automatic rifles and maybe shotguns,
flares set out further up the hill,
a reception committee for Craig Hollister's wife.
Not what he'd planned when he'd asked to meet him at headquarters.
But there was nothing I could do. I slowed down carefully.
Keep going.
You heard the sergeant. Pappy might be bleeding to death.
He's only a quarter of a mile from Halfway House.
They can do as much for him as we can. Now you stay on her tail.
Craig, I can't. They'll suspend me.
Art.
Don't make me pull my gun on you.
Now watch this next curve.
But what can we do? We can't stop her.
If she tries to run the barricade, they'll blow her apart.
If she... hang on.
If she doesn't slow down, she won't even get to the barricade.
Turn off your lights.
Turn off my lights?
That's right.
Or she doesn't see us, she slows down a little.
Well, how am I going to see?
Use her lights.
Her lights. Fine. Great.
But what if there was something coming up the grade?
I wondered if Hollister had gone nuts.
He was peering ahead.
He seemed to have got hold of himself.
I didn't really think he'd pull a gun on me,
but suddenly I knew I'd go along with whatever he was trying to do.
I flicked off the lights.
It seemed to help.
The car ahead lost some of its crazy fear.
Now you're gaining.
Okay, use this stretch here.
Oh, Debbie, baby, watch out, watch out.
We're gaining, but if she makes this turn,
she's only got a mile to the barricade.
Is that a car coming?
It's a truck.
Debbie, Debbie, please get over, get over.
She won't make it. She won't.
Watch out.
Get your lights on.
Okay, now catch her.
Hey, you gonna shoot her yourself?
I hope not. I hope not.
Look, you have to get closer.
I'll never do it from here.
Closer, the man said.
I was already pushing 80,
and the range was still too far unless he was aiming for a lucky hit,
or an unlucky one.
You gotta catch her by that stretch in front of headquarters.
Right.
If he was going to shoot out a tire, it would have to be there,
the only level shoulder on the grade.
But that was where the barricade was.
Well, we just have to get her this side of it.
Hollister rolled down the window, and I felt a spray of rain on my face.
And suddenly I saw the barricade spotlights.
She's slowing any?
Nah, putting on speed.
Well, I can't wait any longer.
The range was just too great.
It had to be her left rear tire.
If she went off the other way, she'd be killed.
But she was just too far away.
Suddenly, not really wanting to, I jammed down the accelerator.
The rear end swayed and lurched.
My hands were sweaty with fear.
Thanks, son.
And that did it.
The convertible began to turn, hesitated, and headed for the shoulder.
It leaped when it hit the dirt, half turned.
Debbie!
I skidded all the way through the roadblock.
The guys from the barricade beat us back to the crash.
But it was just as well because without help,
I'd never have been able to keep Hollister from the ruined convertible.
Will you let me out?
Let me go!
Wait'll we get her out.
The doc's coming now.
But I killed her.
I killed her.
No, we don't know yet.
Here's the ambulance.
Doc!
Doc, she's right down there.
And how's Pappy?
Broken leg.
Oh.
At the car that ran him off the road.
Yeah, that's it.
A patrolman and an ambulance driver set a litter by the ambulance.
Two other guys had Craig in their patrol car trying to calm him down.
The girl was hurt, hurt bad, but she was alive.
I started back to the patrol car and stepped back to let a convertible pull off onto the shoulder.
A girl got out.
A pretty girl.
And I thought of the kid by the ambulance who would never be pretty again.
Then I felt the sergeant's hand on my arm.
He was staring at her.
Mrs. Hollister.
Yes, Sergeant.
What happened?
Where's Craig?
Well, we thought...
He thought...
Oh, look.
All the poor thing.
She's just a kid.
She figured she was old enough to get fried to the gills and make that grade in her rainy night.
Your husband saved her life.
How?
He and Art here almost broke their necks catching her.
I'd have blasted her to pieces.
Where's Craig?
Is he all right?
Debbie!
Debbie!
Oh, Debbie!
Oh, Debbie!
What's the matter, darling?
Oh, Debbie, it wasn't you.
I thought that...
You'd better skip it, Hollister.
No.
Oh, no.
I don't know.
I want you to.
Debbie, I thought the girl was you.
Me?
Why me?
Well, it was the same kind of a car and the speed.
Oh, I see.
And it could have been me, couldn't it?
A long time ago, maybe, honey.
A long time ago.
Well, his arm was around her when they walked away, and Craig Hollister had a kind of thoughtful
look in his eye.
I turned back to the sergeant.
Oh, are you okay, kid?
Oh, sure, sure.
Say, sergeant...
Yeah?
About us not going back for Pappy, I was driving, you know.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Well, I...
Oh, I see.
I'll forget it.
You learned anything tonight?
Yeah, I learned a lot.
And, sergeant, you know what?
What?
I think Hollister did, too.
Suspense.
In which Everett Sloane starred in William M. Robeson's production of Speed Trap by Hank
Searles, supporting Mr. Sloane in Speed Trap were Ellen Morgan, William Conrad, Jack Krushen,
and Lawrence Dobgin.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Suspense has been brought to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States
Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
Thank you.
Thank you.