All language subtitles for Street Kings - English

Yo, dawg.

Konnichiwa.

What?

Konnichiwa.
Konnichiwa means, '"What's up?'"

-So what the fuck's up?
-We know what it means.

Hey, you want a smoke?

You can read the paper through this,
it's so clean.

A couple of hits,
you'll be fucking like beasts.

-You boys like pussy, right?
-Hey!

Do we look like fucking tweakers to you?

-So you got the shit or not?
-Yeah. You?

What the fuck is this?
We said a machine gun.

It is a machine gun.

The kind you can carry.

Couldn't get none of those.

This baby's got character.
Korean War vintage.

Maybe even mowed down
one of your grandpapa-sans

when he was charging the wire at Inch'on.

This is bullshit. It's fucking stuck.

Fuck it, take the ride.
Three large. VIN's clean.

Nigga, I drive a $100,000 car!

We want your faggoty-ass ride,
we'll jack it from you.

Cool. Don't decide right now.

Konnichiwa is Japanese.
It's insulting to Koreans.

How am I supposed to tell if you can't?

What the fuck is that supposed to mean,
white boy?

It means you got eyes like apostrophes,
you dress white, talk black and drive Jew.

So, how am I supposed to know
what kind of zipper head,

dog-munching dink you are if you don't?

Yo.

Do you know who the fuck we are?

Yeah.

You're a couple of pan heads
buying a machine gun out of a trunk.

Wassup, you son of a bitch?

-Pick him up.
-Get your ass up.

I'm getting the shit out of here.

Give me the keys!

-Konnichiwa, bitch.
-Let's go!

Where?

It's okay.

I'm a cop.

Captain Wander, congratulations
on breaking the case.

Can you tell me how you found the twins?

Julie, my people had turned the city
upside down looking for these girls.

I could not be prouder of my men.

Ma'am, excuse me.

How can you shoot a guy taking a dump?

I mean, seriously. That... That's sacred.
That's like shooting a man in church.

Or a Dodger game.

Hey, whatever it takes to be a hero.
Anytime, anyplace, right, Lud?

It gets old.

I hate these short-eyed,
kiddie-raping bastards.

At least kidnap some full-grown ladies
with shapes.

Wow. Maybe you should check his closet
next, huh, Lud?

The girls are being examined
by a physician right now.

Both twins are in good health

and will be reunited
with their family shortly.

LA Times front page tomorrow
is gonna say,

'"Vice Detective Rescues Missing Twins.'"

Detective. Singular.

Yeah. Like we've been sitting around
on our ass

doing jack-shit in our unit the last month.

Hey! You two cut the shit.
The boss is on his way right now.

I mean, you could have saved some for us.

-I did you a solid, Santos.
-You did me a solid?

You want to see their faces every night?
You want to be a killer?

You know what? Shut the fuck up.

Hey, hey, what the hell is going on?

Hey! This is real professional.

What if I walked in here
with the Chief, huh?

Santos, deploy your ass outside.

Find Ted Berman and make sure that
that crime scene log is in order.

-Yes, sir.
-Run along, boy.

Shut the fuck up.

Hey, secure that bullshit,
all right? Both of you.

Clady, you take DeMille back to the barn
and start writing.

I want something to red-pin by midnight.

Tell those body monkeys
to get right in here.

You got it, Cap. Let's go.

This is crazy!

You fucked them up!

This is beautiful.

And that machine gun shit,
that was perfect.

I know you hated waiting,
but it's better this way.

-You all right?
-Yeah. I...

-I got shot.
-Yeah, but you okay?

Yeah, I'm okay, Jack.

'Cause I know you're not tripping
about these...

These assholes right here?

Fuck them. Screw them.

You went toe-to-toe with evil
and you won.

You saved those girls.

This is lovely, Tommy.

Come here. Come here, man.
Give me... Give me a hug!

Come on.

-Ribs are tender.
-What you hiding from?

-Nothing.
-What you hiding from?

You've been drinking.

You know that...
That thing they say about vodka?

How you can't smell it?

It's bullshit. The D.A.'s shooting team
is en route right now.

And you're not ready
for public consumption.

So, come on.
I want to get you to a hospital,

get you away from all those guys.
Come on.

All right. Thanks, Jack.

I think we can do some damage control.

If it ain't LA's deadliest white boy.

Aren't you on the wrong side
of the yellow tape?

Congrats on four more notches
for your gun belt.

I'll be praying for the families
of your victims.

They're called suspects.

The victims are the 14-year-old school
girls the suspects kept in a cage

and sold to chicken hawks
to poke, prod and put on the Internet.

Suspects, Washington.

Suspects.

As evil as those men were,
they had a right to trial.

There's gonna be some blowback
from the Korean community on this one.

Now that you're all militant,
why don't you just say it?

You think I'm a racist.

-You have another explanation?
-No, I don't.

Because if I roll and determine the
suspects are black, yellow or brown,

I'll blow them out of their socks.

But if they're white,
I'll give them a ride home.

You know why? 'Cause I'm a racist.
Fuck you.

Man, I would give my right arm to have
that shit on tape.

What happened to you, Terrence?

We used to be brothers.

Hey, hey, stay on point.
Washington, you stay on point.

Always, Captain Wander. Always.

Tom. Come on, let's get you out of here.

-Don't go near that piece of shit.
-He's got it coming, Jack.

Do not go near him.
You stay away, far away.

-Fuck him.
-That's an order.

I'm waiting for Nurse Garcia.

I did the same thing with this girl once.

She was a waitress at a jazz bar.

And I'd sit in her section,
wouldn't let anybody else serve me.

She'd change sections, I'd change tables.

Persistence. That's the key.

Wait a second.

You're that cop! You're...
I just seen your face on TV.

You rescued those twins
in Korea town, right?

Are you okay? Did you get shot?

No.

Yeah.

Who the hell are you?

Me? I sell insurance, life, auto, casualty.

Wow, that's some heavy shit, man.

So those guys, they...
They shot first, right?

Excuse me?

Whole city was looking for those kids.

How'd you find them?

That's my job.

Sergeant Green,
Sergeant Green...

Excuse me, Captain.

Sorry to interrupt.

Deputy Chief Sorensen
is trying to raise you on a simplex.

Insurance, Tom.

I sell insurance.

If you ever need any, and you will,

why don't you give me a call?

No one has to know but us.

Not Clad, not Wander, no one.

Listen, for your own good,

don't get yourself so far out there
that I can't reel you back.

See you sometime.

Who was that?

A cop who burns cops. Jesus.

-Who?
-Nobody, Grace.

-Hi.
-Hi.

Oh.

Hold this.

You know, you can just stop by sometime.

You don't have to get shot
when you want to see me.

Why? I like it like this.
Don't you?

No, I don't.

I don't.

No. Don't get close to me.

I work here.
I'm not losing my license for you.

-I'm a cop.
-No.

Whatever.

I kicked the door after identifying
myself as a police officer.

Upon entry, I was fired upon by a suspect
in the living room with a silver automatic.

I returned fire, he goes down.

Then I'm hit in the torso by shotgun fire
from the second suspect.

Point of entry?

Front door on the west side
of the structure.

Why didn't you call for backup?

Exigent circumstances.

I heard screams emanating from the house
and ascertained a crime was in progress.

-...saying something.
-Take care, Silk.

-It was great working with you.
-Thanks a lot.

Now it's a party.

Oh, my goodness!
Now it's a binge, Captain.

-What's up, killer?
-Steady.

Steady. Yeah, he's in.

What's with you?
What, Clad give you a happy ending?

Is that any way to address a commander?

I got the call from the Chief this morning.
Badge ceremony's next week.

Congratulations, boss.

Hey. We're gonna have
the keys to the city.

You believe that shit?
They're crowning him king.

Let's get a toast to that.
A toast to the king!

-King Wander!
-King Wander!

Yo, boss.
Can I be your driver when you make chief?

You got it. You got it.
Whatever you want.

You know, I owe you one, Tom.

That Park twins caper,
that gave me the edge.

You know, the Chief, he's breaking
tradition by promoting me here.

The first commander slot always goes
to the head of Internal Affairs.

That's the way it is.

That's because they got so much dirt
on everyone.

That's right, and they're always looking
for more, huh?

Yeah.

You know this prick?

Came at me like Joe Concerned Citizen,
asking procedural questions.

Yeah, yeah, we got a history, this little...

See, if you showed up during the daytime,

you would know who your enemies are.

What'd you tell him?

I couldn't help myself, Clad.
I told him everything.

Atta boy!

You know, this is a typical Biggs
bullshit move.

This is his M.O.
He'll back-door you every fucking time.

Why is Internal Affairs up my ass
all of a sudden?

It's Washington, brother.
Your ex-partner's been snitching.

Holy shit.

Jack, talk to me.

Washington's had several meetings with
Captain Biggs over the last few weeks.

There are no secrets in the department.

So, when I became cognizant
of the problem,

we threw a tail on him.

I followed this guy Eastside,
Westside, Southside.

Next thing I know,
he's ringing Biggs' doorbell in Upland.

Who's Washington giving up?

You, Tom.

-Me. Why now?
-Yeah.

Because I shit canned him from the unit
and he's a vindictive bastard.

Now he's on a mission to pull the rug out
from under all my best guys.

All my best guys.
That's what this shit is about.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!
-Man!

Tommy, hey, that's your life.

-That's your life right there.
-I'm just gonna talk...

-No, you're not. You're not.
-You want to talk?

Let's talk about my foot up your ass if you
don't sit the fuck down

-in that goddamn chair.
-He's all right. Have a seat.

Come on. He's all right.

What the fuck
is wrong with you?

Do not, and I repeat,
do not hand Washington your badge.

I know you two
have done some dirt together.

But we gotta hold the line, you and me.

We've been here before, haven't we?

When the gates of hell opened up
on you, Tom?

And I took care of you then.
I'm gonna take care of you now.

All right?

Okay. Okay.

Washington. Washington.

-Drop it, Tom! Now!
-What the hell are you doing?

-You going to kill me, partner?
-You're crazy! We got a 21 1 in progress!

I got you, I got you and Wander.

Listen to me, you idiot!

We got two gangbangers rolling in hot!

Shit!

Washington, stay with me, partner.

-Don't move! Let me see your hands!
-I'm a cop.

I'm a cop! I'm a fucking cop!

Fuck. It's Ludlow.

Get me an ambulance. Now.

Holy shit.

He's a cop, too?

Yeah.

Where's the video?

-Who else has seen this shit?
-Just us, boss.

It was a straight 21 1 that went sideways.

It's not what it was, Lud.
It's what it looks like.

But it's not what it looks like.

-It's not.
-That's all there is, Tom!

What it looks like! What everybody sees!
You knew that!

Lud, anybody in the department
sees this video,

you're no longer a cop,
do you understand that?

The department? The D.A. sees this...

He's... He's going to prison.

Why? Because Washington was in
the wrong place at the wrong time?

No, because you were.

Washington's problems are over,
yours are just beginning.

Try to think two moves ahead for once.

Captain Biggs will say that you got
two thugs off the street

and went after a cop who was diming you
out to Internal Affairs.

It writes itself.

-I was just gonna break his jaw.
-That's a good answer.

I gave you a direct order,
stay away from him.

Give me your goddamn burner now.

Give me your goddamn burner!

We know you don't give a shit about
yourself, Lud. That's pretty obvious.

But you gotta think about the unit.

-You really fucked us on this one.
-Clady.

-Give me a minute, please.
-Yes, sir.

I can't afford to lose you.

Who'd do what you do?

You are the tip of the fucking spear.

Who's gonna hold back the animals?

Maybe

the clerk

forgot to put the disk
in the recorder today.

Maybe you were first on the scene, Tom,
and you rendered aid to Washington.

I'll go outside.

Make some calls.

And maybe,

this won't be here

when I get back.

He was my partner back in the day.

We were black and white in a black
and white when it was still a big deal.

White cops wouldn't back us 'cause of him
and the black cops 'cause of me.

Fuck them.

We made it.

Sorry. You tried to save him.
You did your best.

My best?
I was curled up in a ball while he got shot.

We should have dumped those guys.

How can they just wave a pen
and change what happens just like that?

We're the police.
We can do whatever the hell we want.

Doesn't matter what happens.
It's how we write it up.

What about the truth?

What about it?

You have to honor him, your friend.

'"Honor him'"?

I was going to knock him out
and he thought I was going to kill him.

Prick.

Don't turn your back on him.

Good can come from bad.

In my world, the real world,

the bad breeds more bad, Grace.

See this? It's done. It's over.
It's taken care of. All right?

I won't give you another dose here,

but got a set of blues in your locker?

-No.
-Here's the thing.

-I gotta bury you.
-Not that.

In a nice, politically correct spot until this
Washington thing settles down a little bit.

No, Jack.

Your job is to conduct preliminary
interviews of the complainant.

If there’s a specific allegation
against an officer,

write it up, forward it to Internal Affairs.

Now, the temptation is to be
a good brother cop.

Don't be. None of this shit's
going anywhere anyway.

There's your desk.

Suppose I get a complaint against myself?

Write it up and forward it. Okay?

-Okay.
-Okay.

You have a complaint?

Motherfucker beat my ass like I was
Rodney King, man.

Except there wasn't no video.

Dude looked just like you.

But black.

This ass been working longer than all
y'all cops disrespecting me.

He pulled me out of my ride, homes,
disrespected me in front of my old lady.

Tried to get her number and shit.

You get his badge number
or see his nametag?

Not with his boot on my throat
and his partner kicking me.

No, it was a little bit difficult.

Everybody comes here,
they have a complaint.

They sit down.
I done waited for my fucking five hours

and you gonna ask me,
do I have a complaint?

Obviously, I have a complaint.

You know what? This is some bullshit.

That's why I hate
all these motherfucking cops.

Fuck all y'all!

Wander has got a sense of humor,
I'll give him that.

You have a complaint?

Where to begin?

The black band.

Man down. Hurts, right?

Losing a colleague. Brother in blue.

I'm sorry he's gone, sir.

You two worked Vice Special together.
Pushed a black and white in South end.

Phonebook Tom,

the last of the ghetto gunfighters.

I heard you got your best confession
with a '91 directory.

You know Washington was holding
the asshole down.

Is this an interview?

Just a little back and forth.

Well, Captain, I'm not much of a dancer,
so if there’s something you'd like to ask...

Want to go and get some lunch, Tom?

This is the interview.

Regarding yesterday's incident,
you were the first on scene, correct?

Yes, sir.

-Three shooters, right?
-Two. Read the report.

What would you say if I told you
the pathologist recovered

three different calibers
from Terrence Washington's body?

Sounds like three shooters to me.

What were you doing there, Tom?

Come on, man to man. Tape's off.

Damn it!

It doesn't bother you that
there are two cop killers out there?

Living, laughing, fucking?
It doesn't bother you, Tom?

Yes, it bothers me!

So, why'd you let them
get away, gunfighter?

Hey, let's get something straight, Captain,
nobody's getting away.

What happened to the video
from the store?

What video?

Listen to me. Every time you shit the bed,

Wander's there to change the sheets.
Well, not anymore, son.

I'm going to pour gas on you,

I'm going to pour gas on Wander
and everyone in Vice Special.

Then I'm lighting the match
and I'm gonna burn all of you.

I tried to save you, Detective Ludlow.

Your window’s closed.

And that third shooter?
He's mine, so help me God.

Get back in your office!

Captain, you there?
-I'll call you back.

What the fuck are you doing in my office?

What the fuck are you doing
jamming my people at lunch?

If you got a problem with Ludlow,
you come to me.

You keep your dog on a leash.

Everybody knows
he can't make a move without you.

You go cry to Daddy?

Stop right there.

Stop.

Tom is a damn fine cop.

He bleeds blue.

You got an open case on him?

Vice Special?

You got one on me?

You formally investigating us?

This is a fishing expedition.

Because you know if you went to the Chief
and you asked him

to open a case on me
or anybody in my unit,

he would laugh you out of his office.

Listen to me, you piece of shit.

I have watched you intimidate,
bully and blackmail

your way up through the pay grades
for 20 plus years.

I know exactly what you are.

You've got no business being
a commander.

You like Tom, don't you?

I saw the way you watched him
when he came in.

That's why you follow him around,
you want him to give you a blow job.

Like that hooker I caught you with
when we were sergeants.

-You remember?
-Shut up, Jack.

Does your wife know that
you use prostitutes, Jimmy?

It was the best head I ever had.

And what about you, Jack?

You always found it hard to keep
your prick out of the ghetto.

It's a two-way street, buddy.
You can't ride the tiger forever.

Now get the hell out of my office.

Do the department a favor,

and wash your mouth out with buckshot.

Come on, Tom. Let's get out of here.

From his time on the street
to his time in your schools and homes,

Detective Washington was tireless

in his devotion to his church,
his love for his family,

and his dedication to this department.

Uniform Detail. Atten-hut!

Honor Guard, port arms!

Half right face!

Ready, aim, fire!

Aim, fire!

Aim, fire!

Uniform Detail, present arms!

He was a good guy. We'll miss him.

We'll go back to work now. Back to work.

-Listen, that was a nice speech. Thank you.
-Let's go get them.

Thank you, sir.

Mrs. Washington.

I was first on scene.

Yeah, of course you were.

Excuse me.

You Diskant?

Yeah.

You're working Washington?

Yeah.

You know who I am?

Yes.

You planning on interviewing me?

You're on my list.

Well, let's get rolling. Where do I start?

Gang books? Mug shots? 21 1 reports?

If you want.

Come on, Diskant,
you've worked a homicide before.

I'm two for two.

Okay, two for two,
you got a ballistics report?

No. The bullets are still at the coroner's.

Yeah, but they're giving you
updates, right?

They tell you how many different calibers
they dug out of Washington?

-What do you want?
-How many?

Goodbye, Detective.

-Harry!
-Hey.

I thought you were dead.

I'm from Vice Special.

Tom Ludlow.
I know who you are.

I handled your wife’s autopsy.

-That was you?
-Mmm-hmm.

The asshole. Remember?

Right.

The guy who washed away all the hair
and fiber evidence.

The guy who wouldn't do a vaginal swab.

The guy who left me nothing to go on.

It's not my job to investigate adultery.

How can I help you?

-Pulled these out of Washington?
-Yup.

Eighteen rounds.

Ten .45-caliber full metal jackets.

Seven 9-mil FMJs.

And a single .38 hollow-point
mushroomed against his scapula.

Serious overkill.

He must have really pissed off
the shooters.

Get what you're looking for?

Hi, I'm Detective Diskant.
We spoke on the phone earlier.

-I'm here for the ballistics evidence.
-How you doing?

Thank you.

When can I expect your report?

Give me about an hour or so.
The lab's backlogged today.

-Thanks. Can you fax it to my office?
-Sure can.

Thank you, Doc.

Diskant, talk to me.

You got three different calibers,
that means three weapons.

What's your take on what went down
in that market?

Two bad guys come in the front door
to rob the place.

One of them sees the clerk,
cuts him in half.

The other one sees Washington,

whose weapon is already drawn,
empties his clip into him.

His buddy joins the party till he runs dry.

And one of them pulls a two-incher,

pumps a final '"fuck you'" round
into Washington's back.

They leave, you show up

after they're gone.

You got it all figured out.

I got your back here, but you got to keep
your distance and let me work this case.

No one's gonna find these assholes.
Is that what you need to hear from me?

Are you fucking kidding me?

They get a pass, you get a pass.
That's the deal, right?

What are you talking about,
the shooters get a pass?

I don't understand,
Clady said you were on board.

Not with this.

What's the deal, are you throwing
this case for a promotion?

If I were you,
I'd be more worried about yourself.

Hey, you piece of shit!
You got a 187 on a peace officer

and you're fucking letting
the suspects walk!

-You want these guys found?
-That doesn't piss you off?

-So they can put you at the store?
-Doesn't it piss you off?

Place you at the store
before the shooting?

You want to catch a felony
for obstruction?

If I say you weren't there,
you weren't there.

This is your mess and I'm cleaning it up.

Yeah, it pisses me off!

Diskant.

Yeah.

Yes. Hang on one second.

All right, go ahead.

All right, thank you. Bye-bye.

Fremont and Coates.

The lab found saliva on a cigarette butt
and the bandana outside the store.

DNA corresponds to those two names.

Congratulations, you IDed the shooters.

Yeah. Normally, I'd be pretty happy.

Pull their rap sheets. Give me copies.

I'll see you around.

Computer says you arrested these guys.

Fremont and Coates.

Good guys. Say hi for me.

You remember them?

Who can forget?
Heroin dealers with a taste for blood.

Came up from Belize to make a sale
and they liked the Southland so much,

they never left.

Yeah. We hooked these two fine
gentlemen on a rape-mutilation caper.

Seems they had a three-day hostage-fest
with this cute little Guatemalan chick

that they snatched up when
she was walking home from dental school.

They hurt her bad.

Then why are they on the street?
-They walked from the beef.

One of our own felt we violated
Mr. Coates' and Mr. Fremont's civil rights

and told the City Attorney.

-Washington dimed you out?
-Yep.

Why do you think they put the dude
in Community Relations?

Are you shitting me?

Washington kicked loose the very guys
who whacked him?

Damn ironic, isn't it?

Oh, guys! What is this, a garage sale?

How you doing, Lud? What's this? Why...

Lud, why do you have this?

Those are the shitbags
who popped Washington.

Sarge, we can get these guys.

No, no.
Not if you want to keep your badge.

Besides, these two animals?
These guys, they'll take care of each other.

They'll be dead by the end of the week.

Probably shoot each other's fucking faces
off, knowing these two.

You know how that shit works.

This week's suspects,
next week's victims, right?

Yeah, right.

What the hell are you doing here, Tom?

Let's talk.

I'm sick of this shit, man.

It's the same damn song for three years.

Crying about your wife.

She's gone, Tom.

What's it gonna take to
bring you back from Mars?

Have I ever asked you for anything?

You know what?
You ask me for shit all the time.

Big things, Jack. Important things.

What's up, Tom?

Give me a green light to take out
the assholes who did Washington.

Come on, Jack. King's X.

What the hell is this?

I can lay them out like I did those Koreans,
but off the books.

I'm talking shovels and trash bags.
Who's gonna know? Who's gonna care?

The Koreans?

That... That was business.

This? This is some crazy bullshit rattling
around in that drunk-ass mind of yours.

Look at yourself!
Look at yourself, Tom! You're a mess!

When did you start drinking today?

Your little airplane bottles of vodka?

And you drove over here intoxicated.
You want a second DUI?

No one's going to fuck with me, Jack!
You're not listening to me!

You're not listening to me!

No, you listen to me!

This is much bigger than that.

Do you think Biggs is stupid?

He's got a PhD in catching cops slipping.

You know this. You know all this.

You got to hold your mud.

Can you do that?

It's time to turn the page
and close the book.

They took $200?

I... I forgot about it till I saw this.

That's the man.

That's him.

He took all my pay.
Said it was for the cookie jar.

The cookie jar?

That's what he said.

I'll be right back.

What do you want, Disco?

Washington was dirty.
He was a piece of shit.

Why are you telling me this?

I think you know why.

I know why.

-Are you recording this, huh?
-That's a new phone.

You working for Internal Affairs?

You made one deal.

Maybe you made two.

Captain Biggs flip you
to the dark side, punk?

You know what?

They're right about you.

You are fucking out there.

From now on, you stay away from me.
We don't talk.

All right, hold on, Disco. Hold on. Hold on.

I gotta watch my own back these days,
you know?

Come on. Don't be mad.

Washington was dirty.

Hit me, princess.

Go on.

A couple things.

You know we found $50,000 in cash
on him at the store.

No, I didn't. That's a lot of cash,
but not in itself damning.

Oh, but this is.

Looks like an evidence tag.

I found it in Washington's truck.

I had SID scan it.
Corresponds to a kilo of heroin.

Guess who comes along
and signs out the dope?

Washington?

Washington signed out heroin
and returned brown sugar.

The guys who whacked him moved dope.

You know, Washington sprung them from
a rape beef on a technicality.

No, I did not know that.
Maybe they had a business arrangement.

Maybe it was a hit.

That would explain the heavy artillery.

Washington deserved it, right?

He was dirty, so fuck him.

I feel much better
about the suspects walking.

And you, you must feel better too, right?

We're doing the right thing.

No shame if you want to take your pass.

This has to be you and me.

Why do you think
we're in the goddamn bathroom?

This is it. Last known address.

Okay.

A family here now.
Our boys are long gone.

All right, Disco.

See those yahoos? I'm going to jam them.

And when I do, one of them is gonna bolt.
That's the one that's dirty.

You bored or something?

This is their hood.

Anyone knows Fremont and Coates,
they do.

Hold this, mija.

Get him.

Get out of here, Supercut!

Fuck off.
You're in the wrong neighborhood, homes.

Watch out! Watch out!

Move!

Yo, run, homie!

Yo, Spencer.

I had him.

Why you running, man?

Hey, get me the fuck down,
man. This shit's cutting me, man!

-Get me the fuck down, man!
-What else?

What else? What else?

What the fuck are you doing?

So, what do they call ya?

They call me...
They call me fucking Quicks, man.

-Quicks? Not quick enough.
-Quick.

Hey, get me the fuck down, homes.

Please, man,
this shit's cutting me, dawg.

Fremont and Coates.

They were staying across from the house
you were partying at.

You know them?

I don't fucking know them fools, man!

I'm a fucking Southsider, all right, ese?

I don't be fucking party
with no brothers and shit.

Man, what the fuck you doing?

-They're from Belize.
-Shit!

-Who knows them? Who knows them?
-All right!

Who knows them?

Look, mother... Hey, motherfucker,
come on. All right, dawg. Look, look.

Check this out, man.
There's a baller cat on San Pedro, all right?

Dude's name is Grill, man.
He's from 40s town, ese.

-Grill. 40s town.
-All right. Yeah.

Grill, man. That motherfucker,
he knows all of them, all right, man.

Hey! Hey!

What about him?

-He's lucky he's not going to jail.
-Hey. Come on, man.

-I'll run Grill through CALGANG.
-Hey!

-See if I can get an address.
-Hey, fucking white boys.

He's way better than you!

Housemates, report to the backyard.

This is a badminton
challenge between us

and the original cast of Drawn Together.

Prepare to be transformed
into a bunch of losers.

Fuck, man.

Let's make these guys eat shuttlecock.

-Hey, can we get this game going already?
-Shit!

Police! Drop it!

Get on your face!

What the fuck I do, man?

Get your ass in here, Disco.

Somebody tell me
what the fuck I did, man.

Shut up.

Shit!

You got two strikes, Grill.

This is three strikes. Twenty-five to life.

That ain't my fucking shit. Fuck you.

You put that shit there.
Dirty-ass, punk-ass cop.

Ah, man!

Whoa! Oh! What are you...

-Whoa. Whoa! Ludlow!
-Shit!

What the fuck, man?

Whoa! Whoa! Stop!

Fuck, man. Listen to your boy, man. Shit!

Don't you have to ask him
something first?

Homie right, man. Aren't you
supposed to ask me some shit first?

Fremont and Coates, where they at?

Fuck, man. Stop hitting me
on my fucking head first

and I'll tell you.

Where do they fucking stay?

You're fucking crazy, man.

I don't know where they at.

Cats have been banned from the hood
for a minute, man.

If I catch them slipping,
I'm gonna bust they motherfucking head.

Answer the fucking question!
How do we find them?

The only cats I know that know them
is up in the County, man. High power.

-I'm going to book you into County.
-For what, man? For what?

Talk to your friends, find me Fremont and
Coates and you'll be out by tomorrow.

Otherwise, I'm gonna book you
for the dope and AK.

Fuck, man! Fuck, man!

I ain't no fucking snitch, man.

I know that.
There won't be no jacket, no papers.

It's just you and me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, man!

Come on, they ain't nothing to you.
I want them.

All right, man. Fuck it, man.

Mrs. Washington.

Can we talk outside?

Terrence had $50,000 in cash on him.

His death might be more than just
wrong place, wrong time.

Might be?

How many people knew he was
talking to Internal Affairs?

My husband had a good heart.

And when he started listening to it,
he became a pariah.

His eyes opened.

When will your eyes open?

Terrence always said
you were the worst one.

Because with all the shit going on
around you, you choose not to see.

-Look, I came here to help you.
-Help me?

You came to help yourself sleep at night.

That $50,000,
you think Terrence was stupid?

He knew he had a bull's-eye on his back
the second he went to Captain Biggs.

So we sold our house.

We were leaving Friday for the Bahamas.

To start over.

Silly of us, wasn't it?

Anything else, Detective?

No.

Lud!

What the fuck?

-Hey. How's Complaints?
-Just missed your wife.

-Oh. She was here? That's cute.
-Yeah.

I got something for you.

That's for you.

-Is that it?
-That's it.

Yeah. That's it.

You keep it.
A nice little souvenir for yourself.

But, Tom, this is...

I mean, it's over.

Tom, this is over.

We got your back, Tom.

-Yeah.
-It's your man in high power.

-I got that name.
-Fire away.

It's this OG dude.
Sell a little of this, little of that.

Drive an old-ass Cadillac.

-Name.
-Scribble. They call him Scribble.

His real name's Winston or some shit.
I don't know.

-Man, get me up out of here.
-It's on its way.

I can't believe this shit worked.

Scribble. It's catchy.

I got a Metro unit tailing him.

Go get him, Disco.

-Make me proud.
-You're not coming?

-Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Watch it! Watch it!
-You married, Diskant?

Engaged. And I'd like to see her again.

Hey, you ever hear of something called
the '"cookie jar'"

in reference to corruption, shakedowns,
Serpico shit?

No. Why?

A complaint I'm working on.

We're eastbound
on Vernon passing Fig.

Do you want us to jam them?

That's a negative. Just keep eyes on
and call it out. We're en route.

Watch the crosswalk!

Hey!

There he is.

We got him. Break off.

That's a rog.

What the fuck, nigga?

Dub-C, you better duck, nigga

Shit.

I was raised in the hood
called what the fuck, nigga

Hands where I can see them!

What the hell y'all supposed to be, man?
Narcs?

Yeah, we're narcs.

Look how pinned out your eyes are.
Taking a little off the top?

Little jones maintenance?

You need to kick that shit.

I got a lawyer. You might want to talk
to him. I got his card.

You, wake up. Nothing's happened yet.

But FYI,
you know you got a no-bail warrant.

I put the cuffs on now,
you're locked up until the apocalypse.

Well, whatever, man.
I mean, take me in right now, dawg.

I mean, read me my Mirandas.

Put your hands back on the fucking wheel!

Yo, two for two!
Watch those fucking jokers.

Get back! Get the fuck back!

What the fuck you looking at, white boy?

Get the fuck back!

You really want to kick heroin in County?

Want to see the judge all sick,
shitting and puking yourself?

That would look real good. And for what?

You're just a rung on a ladder
I'm climbing.

What ladder, man?

How do I find Fremont and Coates?

Look, I ain't got no love for them
banana boat motherfuckers, man.

But them dudes are straight monsters.

They'll put me in a box
if they think I'm snitching.

I'm not asking to finger the guys
in open court.

I just want to find them.

Once I do, you're out of the mix.

I ain't seen them in a week, man.

You got a number?

No, I ain't got no number.
Them dudes drop phones all the time.

They call me, man.

Look man, your man making me nervous
back here. Could you...

Look at me. Look at me!

You wanna see that judge
or you gonna help me find them?

Look, I did business with them
one time in El Sereno.

Little bitty-ass house way up in the hills.
That's it.

Show me.

You expect me to leave my car
in the hood, man?

Someone had a party.

Smell that?

Want me to put it out?

No. Get the murder book.

This is Fremont.

And this is his buddy, Coates.

We found them.

Great.

Case closed.

These guys have been here a while.
There's no way they killed Washington.

You think?

Fuck you. I'm doing my best.

If Fremont and Coates
didn't kill Washington, who did?

Who're we chasing?

The assholes who smoked these guys,

harvested their DNA and planted it
in the market. That's who.

I'm with you.
But why do you frame two dead dudes?

We're going to ask them.

Let's go.

What's up, man?

You know there's coyotes out here
and shit, right?

Y'all been gone a minute.

You know these guys?

No, man. I ain't never seen these dudes.

Look, if Fremont and Coates call you,
set up a meeting.

You tell them I can do for them
what Washington can't anymore.

They'll know what you mean.

All right, man. I'll hook it up.

-Will you take me back to my car?
-Sure.

-Have a nice swim?
-Yeah.

I hope you guys are playing nice
with the new girl.

-Is Tom taking care of you?
-I take care of him.

Yeah?
-Yeah.

How's Complaints, Lud?

Oh!

I'd rather scrape up body parts
at a traffic collision.

See, Tommy falls apart
when he's not chasing bad guys.

He's always been like that.

He was born without the fear gene.
I could tell you some stories.

-Tell me!
-No, no, we don't kiss and tell around here.

Now, I got the classic Tom Ludlow story.

When he was a rookie,
I took him under my wing.

It was a Friday night, and we're in
Crip City, it's a project in Watts.

Lots of dope, shootings,
whatever, what have you.

So, we get this call to shut down
this house party.

And Tom, he's like the saltiest boot ever,

so I figured, you know, let's...
Let's give him a lesson in humility.

So I send him in there.

Alone.

And all of a sudden,
all hell breaks loose, right?

They got guys coming out the doors,
homeboys flying out the windows...

Everybody's screaming inside.

I rush in, I charge in,
and there's Tom, busting heads.

They wouldn't turn the music down.

Tom's always gonna be Tom.

He's like a guided missile.
Locks on, that's it.

Yeah?
-Hey, so I just talked to Scribble.

Fremont and Coates,
or whoever they are, want to meet us.

-When?
-Tonight.

I'll see you in Vice in an hour.

I know it's late. I'm sorry.

I wanted you to have this.

And that is?

It's the video of your husband's murder.

It shows everything.

Why are you doing this?

Because I know how not knowing hurts.

When I lost my wife,
she was with another man.

She had a blood clot in her brain
and it burst.

The bastard dumped her outside
a hospital and...

She died alone on the sidewalk.

Linda, I'm sorry
for wanting to hurt Terrence

and I'm sorry for your loss.

I want you to know he didn't die alone,

and that the men who killed him
are gonna pay.

That won't bring him back.

And that won't bring your wife back.

I don't care.

Not in my name.

Please. Not in my name.

Blood doesn't wash away blood.

Shouldn't we roll with backup?

-Fuck backup.
-What? Why?

What do you think is gonna
happen tonight?

You think I'm gonna throw the cuffs
on these boys,

drag them back to the barn
and write it up?

Here's the deal.

I'm going out there
and you're going home.

And we are never,
ever gonna discuss any of this again.

What? What do you mean?

It means Fremont and Coates never
existed, and we never met.

I'm not going home tonight, Tom.

Look, Paul.

This thing you want, that you think
you want, you don't want.

You don't know who I am or what I want.

Who are you to judge me?

You want to be a gunfighter, huh?

Then let's do it.

Back on the night watch, Tom?

You two keep being seen all over town.

Tom?

Did you really think I was gonna
do nothing about you?

If you are gonna do something, do it now.

I know you want my scalp
nailed to your wall.

But then who's gonna go
where the law won't?

You, Captain?

You? You going to clean up the needles
and baby parts?

No.

You need me.

All you company men,
you hate me, but you need me.

Ludlow,

maybe you're right.
Maybe we do need you.

But goddamn if you don't need me, son.

Hey, Detective.

Did you ever ask yourself if Washington’s
dead because he was dirty

or because he came clean?

Swap your rounds out.

We don't want the coroner
digging department-issue

ammo out of these assholes.

Use the gloves.

Jesus.
These are some serious man stoppers.

So we're just gonna go in there
and kill them?

No. I'm gonna ask them some questions.

Then we're gonna kill them.

Fucking time, man.

We good?

You know it's some bullshit, right?
These dudes is monsters, man.

I mean, if they can't fuck it, rob it or kill it,
they don't want it.

Ready?

Yeah.

Make the introduction.

All right. I tried to tell you.

Feeling like Vietnam

Murdering Uncle Toms
I'm crunk like I'm Lil John

I'm a wizard waving...

Get the fuck in here.

You. Move to the fucking wall.

What the hell is this?
You know we're cops. Deal with it.

-They cool, La Shawn.
-Shut the fuck up, Scribble.

Get in there.

Yo! You think I'm fucking playing?

Get your ass against the wall
before you find your brains up there.

We're here to do business.
You want to feel me up,

come on and try it.

Oh, shit. You want to feel his shit?

'Cause he ain't taking it out for you.

Chill the fuck out, La Shawn.
Scribble say they good.

Scribs, what's up with these fools, man?

They good, man. They cool.

Nigga, take a seat.

Get the fuck in there!

You want a drink?

No, we're good.

Man, we got the one-time up in here.

-Mmm-hmm.
-Motherfucking po-po.

Is there any square cops out there?

Or is everybody out for theirs?

Everyone's out for theirs.
Way of the world.

Dude, cops are like weeds.

You pull one out,

and two more fucking grow back.

Well, Washington got greedy.

Don't shoot me now.

I'm just gonna get something
out of my pocket.

This is just a sample.

We're all about weight.

We can help you transport,
let you know if there’s heat,

let you know if you’re selling
to a narc or a snitch.

Or bust people and sell you their shit.

We all about weight, too.

Look at that shit. That's sexy right there.

That's better than pussy.
That's better than money.

That ain't no Mexican tar, neither.

That's that worldwide-war-on-terror
dope, nigga.

Pure Afghan, homie.

Blood, we know this cat.

It's the same motherfucker
that was in the market

the day we pushed Washington's
wig back.

Hell, yeah.

That was you, right?

Come on, man. Cool, man.
Y'all just chill out, man.

All right?
I see where this is going, all right?

Everybody just be cool, man.
We got all these drugs here.

Let's just get high.
I'm gonna pour me some...

Shut your fat ass up.

That's what you here for, dawg?

You here to get some get-back for that
sorry-ass nigga, Detective Ludlow?

No. You guys did me a favor.

So you know who I am
and I know who you're not.

If you’re not Fremont and Coates,
then who the hell are you?

Who are we,

Detective?

We straight nightmares.

We are walking, talking,
exigent circumstances.

Ludlow, wait! I know these guys!

It's over, Detective!

Shit.

I'm gonna do your bitch-ass
like my nigga did your partner!

Hold on, Diskant. Hang on.

Scribble, what the fuck is you doing?

Nigga, pick that gun up
and blast that motherfucker!

It ain't me, dawg.

The next one's in your dome, nigga!

Winston, don't do it.

Winston? Winston, what the fuck is that?
That's your slave name, nigga?

Do it, nigga! Man, kill that white boy!

You white, man? Kill that white boy!

I can't, man.

Fuck this nigga!

I'm out, dawg. Cover me. Come on.

Hang on, Diskant.

Hang on.

-Let me see you.
-Why are you crying?

Take that off.

Sit down, Tom.

It went bad, Grace.

I know. I know.

I should have gone alone.

I took a boy to a gunfight.

Why are you crying?

What's wrong?

What's wrong?

In our coverage
of tonight's top story,

Detective Tom Ludlow, an 18-year veteran
of the Los Angeles Police Department,

is wanted in connection with
the shooting deaths

of two undercover deputy sheriffs
in the early hours of the morning.

Officials have yet to confirm a third victim,
who may also be a peace officer.

In addition, they have stated
Detective Ludlow was off-duty

at the time of the shootings,

and is the only suspect
in yet another tragedy...

-Cops.
-...in the Los Angeles law enforcement.

Reports continue
to bring you...

How do they know that?
That they were cops?

I just left. It's on the news?

Did you do it?

Of course you did it.

I had no idea they were deputies.
But I should have.

'"Exigent circumstances.'" Jesus.

What is wrong with you?

Huh? Why can't you have a normal life
like everyone else?

-I should go.
-No. No.

You're not going out there.

This is gonna be a nightmare, Grace.
I've got to go.

No. No, Tom. This door is staying closed.

Every cop in LA is hunting for you.
You want to get killed?

Grace. Grace.

You need to get away from me. Okay?

You need to get far away.

Everything I touch dies.

Down on the fucking floor!

-On the fucking floor, now!
-I'm not resisting!

Don't say a fucking word.

-No, please.
-Shut up.

Get up.

You're an asshole. You're going down.

Killed two fucking cops.
What's the matter with you?

Get that piece of shit out of here.

Downtown's the other way.
-We're not going downtown.

Where are we going?

That bitch of yours is fine.

-What?
-So is Washington's widow.

You're fucking them both, huh?

-Which one you feeling, Dante?
-I like Linda.

You shouldn't have given
her the video, Lud.

What the fuck were you thinking?

You handed that bitch a death sentence.

What the hell are you talking about?

We've been watching you, asshole.

How many times were you told
to let it go? Hmm? How many?

Cool, homes. Don't get him going.

Hey, fuck him!
Look what he's making us do.

Smug fucking punk.

Did you figure it out, Lud? Huh?

How did Fremont and Coates make it
to the market that day?

After Washington got them kicked loose,
you picked them back up.

Took them to the hills
and popped their melons, right?

You should be a detective.
We took some DNA samples first.

Got a little hair, little spit. Voila!
Fremont and Coates did it.

Who signed out the dope?
It wasn't Washington.

You.

They were gonna incinerate it.

Might as well sell and make a dollar
out of it, you know?

For you or the cookie jar?

You're not that smart, Santos.
Who was in?

Silky? Clady?

Wander.

Wander.

It's a Wander caper all the way.

He's the only one
who could pull those strings.

He should have pulled your string
years ago.

We couldn't figure out why the fuck
he kept you around all this time.

Man, he's Jack's little pet.

Been doing the man's dirty missions
for years.

Washington wasn't giving me up to Biggs.

He was giving up the big dog.
He was giving up the king.

Wander played your fool ass, puto.
We all have.

You're a fucking chump, bro.

Washington's killers, they really cops?

Yeah, they were.

Couple of deputies from the ghetto
having the time of their lives.

And making us a lot of money.

-They were supposed to punch your ticket.
-But you punched theirs.

Yeah. Now we gotta punch yours.

-Up in the hills.
-Up in the hills, brother.

First, we bag your hair, saliva and blood.

When they find
Linda Washington's corpse,

guess whose DNA's gonna be all over it?

And what is it gonna look like?

Like you finally snapped,
just like everyone knew you would.

That little nurse of yours, Lud?

You know, I'm popping
a hundred milli Viagra

and I'm gonna work that little brown ass.

Then I'm gonna break her neck.

Get that fucking cuff out of my mouth,
motherfucker! You...

Get that piece of shit!

Fuck you, motherfucker!
You little motherfucker!

Shoot that motherfucker!

Motherfucker!

Well, hello there, handsome.

Did you have a nice nap?

Santos! Your girlfriend's getting away!

What are you doing, Lud?

You crawling to your own grave?

Watch me play with this fool.

Oh!

Legger!

Yeah!

Who's the boy now, motherfucker? Huh?

Homeboy's gonna bury himself.

Just do the fucking puto and let's go.

So this is it, Lud.

-This is how it ends.
-DeMille, what the fuck? Let's go, bro!

Shut up! I'm having fun!

Where? Where is the fucking disk?

Huh?

Where's the disk?

Okay.

Come here.

You're a lot tougher than that
piece of shit husband you used to have.

You're getting ahead of yourself.

We're gonna be here all night.

You have to go, Linda.
Wherever it is, you gotta go.

Come on.

I'm already packed.

Take care of yourself, Detective.

Where are you gonna go, cop killer?

I let myself in.

Clearly.

You all right, Tom?
I was worried about you.

Apparently, I killed two deputies.
Diskant's dead.

Santos and DeMille dragged me off to die,
so I put them down.

Can you fix this, Jack?

Oh, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix it.

You know, I suspected
that Santos and DeMille

were capering with Washington,

but I didn't want to believe
this kind of shit was going on in my unit.

Yeah. Me neither.

Boss, you better get Clady up here.
I need you guys.

I'll get him in the loop.

I'm gonna get him up here right now.
You need an alibi.

You were sleeping
on the couch after the party.

Santos and DeMille,
they killed those deputies.

Not you. Not you.

This is Clady's phone.

And his badge.

All this is you. It's you, Jack.

It's you. It's you, Tom.

Own it! Fucking own it!

You knew they were cops!

Those guys were so deep undercover

that they... They lost their fucking minds!

Don't mourn them. You can't mourn them.

You set me up!
You sent me in to die, Jack!

I didn't set you up! You set yourself up!

I was trying to save you!
You backed me up in a fucking corner!

-You killed Washington!
-Fuck him!

Fuck Santos! Fuck DeMille!
Fuck Clady! Fuck them all!

Fuck them all!

They're a dime a dozen.

You...

You, man.

You're special.

You're special to me.

And Diskant?

He special?

I watched a good man die because of you.

That is entirely

your fault.

Come on, Tom.

How do we get past this?

We got a destiny. You and me.

Nobody's getting past this, Jack.

Everything ends now. You end now.

I surrender! I surrender.

Hook me and book me!

There's a rover right there!

Put it out! One for transport!

Goddamn!
Tom Ludlow, he got his man now!

I found you.

I made you possible.

Now you need me more than ever, Tom.

What did you think I'd do
when I found out?

Wait, man. Wait.

Wait.

My wall.

It's all there. In the wall.

These secrets, they're killing us.

That's it. Open it up.

Open it up! Tear it down!

Tear it down!

That's it.

There it is.

This

is my power.

This is my crown.

I'm the king of secrets, Tom!

I know which city councilman
is doing lines.

I know who likes boys.
I know who's selling contracts.

I know who... Who's beating his wife.

I own them!
Even the Chief is in my pocket, Tom.

How do you think that I've been able to
protect you all these years?

What do you think it is that you're doing?

All these missions,

how do you think that you're able to touch
the untouchables?

I'm gonna be chief!

I will be chief!

I will be mayor!

This is our world, Tom!

So, let's take it!

That why you put a hit on Washington?

Why you tried to kill me?

So you can keep stuffing money
in your wall?

But this is our money.

The unit's.

Who do you think paid for Silky's defense
during all those lawsuits?

Who's gonna pay for your retirement?

I'm just correcting a flaw
in the system, Tom.

This is about cops helping cops.

And if a teacher or a fireman could do it,

they would do it, too.

What happened to just locking up
bad people?

We're all bad, Tom.

You were my best friend.

We were family.

Drop it, Ludlow!

There's been enough killing.

I came as soon as you called.

Guess you're first on scene.

Nope. You are.

Looks like Jack's friends got greedy
and came after the money.

-Is that what it looks like?
-Mmm-hmm.

This is your plan, Captain?

Just sit back and let us all kill each other?

You were the plan.

No one else could touch him.

Once your eyes were opened,
there was no other outcome.

Decisions were made, Tom,

-by powerful men with powerful secrets.
-Captain.

They were afraid of Jack.

They asked me to help.

One day, you will pass the Chief in the hall
and he will give you a nod.

And you will know why.

Because you were right, Tom.

We do need you.