So before going down to the police station, I try to call KLIF but can't get their number. I wanted to bring the sandwiches to KLIF so they would have the sandwiches, since they already started to make them up. And I remember Russ Knight, a diskjockey--these names aren't familiar to you, but I have to mention them in order to refresh my memory. His name was Moore, or something, and I tried to get information on the telephone, but they couldn't give me the phone number of his home. I probably thought I could get the phone number, but after 6 p.m., you cannot get into the premises unless you have a "hot" number that is right to the diskjockey room. So I couldn't get a hold of that. But in the meantime, I called Gordon McLendon's home, because I know he lives near the synagogue out there, and I got a little girl on the phone, and I knew they had children, and I asked for the number for KLIF. I said, "Anyone home?" She said, "No." I said, "Is your daddy or mommy home?" I forget what transpired. I said, "I would like to get the number of the station so I can get in the building at this time." She said she would go and see, and gave me a Riverside exchange. Mind you, this is 6 or 7 months back, gentlemen. And I asked her name. Her name was Christine, I think. I said, "I wanted to bring some sandwiches." She said, "My mother already brought sandwiches." And I said, "I wanted to go there too." And that was the end of this little girl's conversation with myself. I called that number, as I am repeating myself. There was no such number. It was an obsolete number. I go down to the--I drive by--I leave the delicatessen--the clerk helped me with the sandwiches out to my car, and I thanked him. I told him, "These were going to KLIF, and I want you to make them real good." He helped me with the sandwiches in the car. I got in the car and drove down toward town. I imagine it is about 4 or 5 miles to the downtown section from this delicatessen. But prior to going into the station, I drove up McKinney Avenue to look over a couple of clubs to see if they were activating. I knew the club across from the Phil's Delicatessen and I knew the B. & B. Restaurant was open. That is a restaurant and I know the necessity for food, but I can't understand some of the clubs remaining open. It struck me funny at such a tragic time as that happening. I drove down to Commerce and Harwood and parked my car with my dog--incidentally, I always have my dog with me--on the lot there, left the sandwiches in the car, went into the building of the police station, took the elevator up to the second floor, and there was a police officer there. This is the first time I ever entered the building, gentlemen. The first time of that Friday. This time it must have been about--I mean the time, the time of my entering the building, I guess, was approximately 11:15 p.m. The officer was there, and I said, "Where is Joe Long?" I said, "Can I go and look for him?"