- Peter Witmer: [Friday has made motions to Shanklin to empty his pockets; Shanklin does so] I don't see why you don't leave him alone. You don't have to roust the poor guy. He can't hear and he can't talk and you're treating him like a bum!
- Sergeant Joe Friday: [Friday finds a slip of paper in Shanklin's wallet and reads it. He angrily slams Shanklin's wallet onto the table] I'm gonna ask you once more: Who did you pick the stuff up for?
- Peter Witmer: He couldn't tell you if he wanted to!
- Sergeant Joe Friday: This says he can! It's a receipt from a music store for two phonograph records.
- [to Shanklin]
- Sergeant Joe Friday: Now what do you do, Shanklin - sit there and watch the labels go around? Come on - who are you and Witmer working for?
- Wallace Shanklin: I told you it would never work!
- Peter Witmer: You stupid jerk!
- Sergeant Joe Friday: Let's have it!
- Wallace Shanklin: They told me if I was ever picked up to play deaf and dumb and since I didn't have nothing on file they could get me off!
- Sergeant Joe Friday: All right, who's the big man?
- Wallace Shanklin: I'm gonna tell him!
- Peter Witmer: You do that, fink, and I wouldn't give you eight cents for your future!
- Sergeant Joe Friday: That's enough of that! Come on, Shanklin!
- Wallace Shanklin: The guy you want is Sal Romero. He's the one we picked the stuff up for!
- Peter Witmer: You really are stupid, aren't you?
- Wallace Shanklin: Why do you say that?
- Peter Witmer: You just didn't think!
- Wallace Shanklin: What do you mean?
- Peter Witmer: Why didn't you tell him you bought the records for a friend?
- [Witmer pauses and muses over his own stupid remark]
- Mrs. Donaldson: [from upstairs, off camera, yelling] What is it, George?
- George Donaldson: [yelling in reply] Police! They're looking for somebody named Jerome.
- Mrs. Donaldson: In the middle of the night?
- Sergeant Joe Friday: The man we're looking for limps. He may live around here.
- George Donaldson: [yelling to wife] They say he limps!
- Mrs. Donaldson: What?
- George Donaldson: The fella they're looking for. They say he limps!
- Mrs. Donaldson: Well, you will, too, if you don't close that door and come to bed!
- George Donaldson: [puts blindfold over his eyes, closes the door, walks away. Loud crash from inside the house]
- Sergeant Joe Friday, Officer Bill Gannon: [look at closed door, exchange puzzled looks, walk away]