Fourteen Hours Page #3

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- Cop?

- Yeah. The one that was up here first.

Which one?

I don't want to talk to anybody else.

Will you come in

if we let you talk to him?

I'll have him up here right away.

- Do you know who he means?

- The flatfoot that boxed the report and came up.

- Let's get him.

- What's he want to talk to him for?

What does it matter

as long as he talks?

If he'll unload his troubles on somebody,

we've got a chance to get him in.

Maybe our only chance.

Let's get him.

- What was his name?

- I don't know, Chief.

Find out. Check. See who boxed in.

Get him up here on the double.

- All right.

- He's probably working the street.

- You get a description on the air?

- Sure. I sent it downstairs.

All right.

Hey, fella.

We'll have your friend

up here in a minute.

He appears to be about 23 years of age.

He's wearing neatly pressed gray flannels

and a white shirt.

He has brown eyes, wavy brown hair.

He's about five feet, nine inches tall

and weighs about 155 pounds.

This is extremely important.

If you recognize this man,

call Spring-7-3-100.

From your description, that's

Charlie Dunnigan, all right. Traffic "A."

Okay. Moksar wants him right away.

Find him and get him up there.

- Right. You men know him?

- Yes, sir. We'll get him.

This is George Putnam speaking,

ladies and gentlemen.

The speed with which this crowd

has gathered is absolutely amazing.

People on all sides of us-

thousands of them.

It's impossible to estimate from our point

of vantage down here on the street...

exactly how many people are here...

galvanized, held spellbound

by the breathtaking spectacle...

of a young, unidentified man

perched on a ledge...

15 stories above the street.

I'm gonna turn you over to Bob Roberts now,

who's at a window across the street.

How does it look from up there, Bob?

There's not much happening right now.

There seems to be some sort of delay.

The man we have just identified for you

as... Deputy Chief Moksar...

comes to the window at intervals,

says something...

but, of course, from this distance,

we can't tell what he says.

The boy appears cool and detached,

just waiting.

He's thinking about something.

Perhaps reviewing his life.

At moments he teeters precariously

on the edge of this ledge...

calmly looking down

into the abyss below.

- What is he thinking?

- Miss Kelly, will you turn that off, please?

- Yes.

- Try Mr. Fuller again.

Can he somehow be persuaded

that his life is not entirely worthless?

Considering the shortness of time...

perhaps we should proceed

without him.

- Mrs. Fuller?

- Yes?

I've worked out

the disposition of the children...

with Mr. Fuller's attorney.

Let's run through it once

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