Dragnet, 1967 series

Bill:
Now you're sure you understand your rights?

Lumis:
How many times do you intend to ask me that stupid question?

Joe:
As often as it takes to get an answer.

Lumis:
I have very patiently explained to you gentlemen that I am well aware of my rights to counsel, to remain silent, etc. I also tried to make you understand I consider those rights safeguards for criminals, not for innocent men such as myself. I have nothing to fear from the truth. In my particular case, gentlemen, truth is the best defense. Now then, you have questions to ask me. You DO have questions to ask me, haven't you?

Joe:
That's right, we do, Lumis.

Lumis:
That's Mr. Lumis, Sergeant. Considering the extent to which I'm willing to go to be cooperative, I don't think a little respect, a little common courtesy is too much to expect from a public servant.

Joe:
Alright you, now let's go way back. You want to explain? You try explaining why you copped your mother's funeral money.

Lumis:
My mother's funeral money. It does sound a bit callous, doesn't it?

Bill:
Just a little around the edges.

Lumis:
Well things often do until you know all the facts. I took that money because it was the only way I could make certain of getting something out of the estate. Now brother Charlie was mother's pet, and I had reason to suspect she had written me out of the will. I wasn't guessing gentlemen; she told me a week before she died that she had written me out. What would you have done? I can assure you that my mother's passing over to the other side brought my dear brother far more than the $950 I managed to salvage.

Bill:
You want to tell us about a Mrs. Lumis in Findlay, Ohio.

Lumis:
Oh, sweet girl. I only left her because she became pregnant. It wasn't in our plans.

Joe:
In your plans?

Lumis:
Well, I couldn't afford it. She would have had to stop working, and I simply wasn't up to that sort of financial responsibility. Officer Gannon, I sympathize with your displeasure, and I don't claim to be a saint, but then a saint doesn't have to worry about trying to support a family he can't afford, does he?

Joe:
I suppose you have an excuse for forgery?

Lumis:
You can choose to call it an excuse if you wish. I prefer to say I had my reasons.

Joe:
Such as?

Lumis:
A combination: One, I am cursed with a taste, make that an appetite for the finer things in life. I enjoy French cuisine, and I dare boast I can read a wine list the way most people read the alphabet. Unfortunately, I haven't the knack for earning great sums of money. You know, its the misery of this century that so few of the peole who have the fortunes have the taste and genius to know how to appreciate the things money can buy. I don't deny I passed bad checks, but in my defense, I had the very best of reasons. I can assure you that none of those ill-gotten dollars were wasted on the necessities of life. They were spent only on the luxuries.

Bill:
Why'd you marry a second time without getting a divorce from your first wife?

Lumis:
Divorce is the business of lawyers. It's an expensive nuisance for the rest of us. See, Janice was terribly anxious to get married. Now I ask you: If marrying me can make Janice happy, then getting a divorce could only make Maxine unhappy. Could I take a more honorable course than the one I took?

Bill:
What about Doris Tucker?

Lumis:
Oh, I still plan to marry Doris Tucker. As a matter of fact, we have a date tonight, and I can still make it if you haven't too many more questions.

Bill:
What about the honeymoon fund?

Lumis:
What about it?

Bill:
You didn't plan to put it in your pocket?

Lumis:
Oh, I didn't say that, I said I intended to marry Doris Tucker. I don't plan to grow old with her. You saw her: a terribly dull, unattractive girl. Sweet in her way, but hardly anyone's romantic daydream. It would make her happy to marry me and go through life known as Doris Lumis, the woman whose husband once disappeared, rather than Doris Tucker, the girl who wasn't even asked. Now for that favor, and for having dated her these past couple of months, I don't think the honeymoon fund is an unreasonable compensation.

Joe:
All right Lumis, I have just one more question for you.

Lumis:
Well, I think I can guess what it is, but you ask it.

Joe:
This morning, a blind old lady had her house cleaned out. Now would you know anything about that?

Lumis:
Obviously, I did it. Again, to the undiscerning, a clear-cut case of arch-villainy. I called up a moving van, told them my old aunt had passed on, that the family had decided to put her things in storage. They did a good fast job. Of course, there wasn't that much. It's a small house. I sat with Granny in the backyard. They finished that job in less than an hour. I do admire efficiency.

Bill:
What did you plan to do with her things?

Lumis:
Pawn some, sell the rest at auction.

Joe:
Why'd you do it?

Lumis:
Well, I need the money. Besides, she's a nasty old woman, foul-mouthed and ugly. Anyway, her children would see to it that she didn't starve, she'd have a place to sleep. What more does the old crow need? It serves them right.

Joe:
It serves who right, and for what?

Lumis:
It serves them all right for asking Mr. Daniel Lumis to waste his time baby-sitting with the old witch.

Bill:
One last question.

Lumis:
Yes.

Bill:
What's this thing you have about being called "Mister"?

Lumis:
This thing, as you put it, is simple enough to explain. When I was in the Navy, I was an ordinary seaman, and it galled me that I had to call illiterates, who weren't worth a fraction of my value, "Mister", simply because they had the connections and family influence to become officers. Well, I made a vow then and there, that in civilian life, I would always be called "Mister."

Joe:
Well now, it's going to be a little rough on you from here on in, isn't it?

Lumis:
How's that, Friday?

Joe:
Well, where you're headed, there are no "Mister's."

Lumis:
That's so?

Joe:
Just numbers.