All language subtitles for Black Mass [2015 Eng Biography]

Sync and corrections by explosiveskull
WEB-DL Resync by GoldenBeard
www.addic7ed.com

_

Before we start, I
want you to know something.

I'm not a rat.

You understand?

I want that on record before we start.

Okay.

You are not a rat.

And it's on record.

Mr. Weeks, the charges against you...

racketeering, extortion, kidnapping,

and accomplice to
murder... are very serious.

Am I correct in stating
that you are here today

to make a deal with the federal government?

Correct.

And am I correct in stating

that you are going from trusted confidant

to one of South Boston's most
notorious and violent gangsters

to government witness?

Correct.

Then I need to know everything you know

about the Winter Hill Gang,

the FBI and John Connolly,

and specifically, what you
know about your former boss

and now fugitive, James "Whitey" Bulger.

Well, let's start.

♪ I have not come, yeah ♪

- _
- ♪ To testify ♪

Yeah. It'll be a good time tonight.

We got to do it.

Sorry, buddy. I can't let you in.

That's cool, man. I'm friends with Jimmy.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- You're with Jimmy?
- Yeah.

Well, I still can't let you in.

Who the fuck are you?

I'm the guy who works here.

You probably don't remember this,

but you were here last Saturday night

with a few of your friends

around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning.

You took a piss up against the bar.

And that's frowned upon here.

But if you go down to Brannigan's

just right down there,

they'll let you take a shit
in the middle of the floor

if that's what you want to do.

But you can't... you can't do it here.

All right. Yeah.

Okay?

Oh, yeah, we'll go. Hey, look.

No hard feelings, okay?

Get the fuck out of my fucking
way, you fuckin' retard!

Tough guy wants to dance?

Come on! Step the fuck up!

She's all fired up.

She knows he's over at The Bulldog,

running his mouth again.

She go over there and she got
a little fork in her pocket,

you know?

She walk right in there,

tap him on the shoulder,
take his fuckin' eye out

right there in front of everybody.

And Connors was fuckin' in there.

He couldn't even look. He had to look away.

Connors ain't no tough guy.
Denucci whipped his ass in 59.

Of course he did. He's
a professional fighter.

Yeah, so's Connors.

Connors is a tough kid,

but Joe Denucci's the real
thing, it's all I'm saying.

Well, I'm saying that Connors

didn't want no part of this broad.

Hey, you know something?

What?

For 15 straight minutes,
I been watching you

putting your big fat fuckin' fingers

into your disgusting mouth

which is filled with God knows
what kind of fuckin' bacteria,

and then you take the same
big fat fuckin' filthy fingers

and you stuff 'em back into the bowl

that is there for public consumption.

Now, what the fuck are you thinkin', John?

Well, I wasn't thinking, Jimmy.

I'm sorry.

Just don't do it again.

Jimmy.

Sorry to bother you.

We got trouble outside.

Fuck!

Ronald, hold him up straight!

Put him up against the car!

- Get him up!
- Come on!

Get him up! Get him up!

- Get up here!
- Get him up!

Put a stop to it.

Charlie!

He's a fucking kid, Charlie. Come on.

- Fuck! He's fucking dead!
- Charlie. Come here.

- What the fuck, Jimmy?
- Shut up.

You're fuckin' dead, you...

Did I fuckin' tell you to shut up?

You listen to me. I won't say it twice.

- Get in the fuckin' bar.
- Come on, pretty boy.

Asshole!

Phew.

Hey, you know Charlie, the
guy you were just beatin' on?

Yeah.

Yeah, he's Charlie McTiernan.

He's married to one of Jimmy's cousins.

How the fuck am I supposed to know that?

I don't know.

Good luck, kid.

Get in the fuckin' car.

No, no, no, no. You drive.

Are we meetin' Carmelo out here?

What the fuck, Jimmy?
What are we doin' here?

- I mean...
- Kill the engine.

Jimmy, look, I'm... I'm sorry.

- I was doing my job.
- Shut the fuck up.

Right, that's enough.

You got something I like, kid.

It's Kevin, right?

Meet Joey Anguilo.

And just fucking
like that, I was Winter Hill.

And it was a big deal to me.

What'd you do?

The everyday, small-time stuff...

the rackets, driving around making pickups,

checking on our vending machines, you know.

And listenin' to Mickey bullshit.

So, this guy at the Libra
Lounge in Revere over there

is tellin' me that the
porn stars in California,

they eat a lot of celery

before they're gonna perform, you know?

Wait. Whoa. Stop for a second.

That's old Mrs. Cody.

Mickey, you remember old Mrs. Cody?

Of course I do.

Going strong. Look at her.

Pardon me, Mrs. Cody,

but I think I smell a little shepherd's pie

sneaking out of that bag there.

Am I right?

As I live and breathe, it's Jimmy!

- It is.
- When did you get out of Alcatraz?

Oh. Uh... that's nearly 10
years ago now, Mrs. Cody.

- Oh.
- More than a minute.

Well, it's wonderful

to have you back in the neighborhood, son.

You remember Mickey, don't you?

- Hello, there.
- Hi, Mickey.

How are you, sweetheart?
It's nice to see you.

You know this kid, Kevin?

Your paper boy, right?

I grew up a little bit, huh?

Make sure everything gets put away nice.

She got everything she needs, huh?

The truth of the matter is,

a lot of people in Southie loved Jimmy.

And you'd include
John Connolly in that group?

Well, especially John Connolly.

I mean, he grew up in the projects

a few doors down from the Bulger brothers.

He was tight with Billy,

but like every other
kid in the neighborhood,

he was in awe of Jimmy.

The story goes, when he was growing up,

Connolly was taking a
beating from some guys,

and Jimmy stepped in and
saved his ass, I guess.

We've now come home

to focus on this office's top priority,

which is really the North
End of the Italian Mafia,

led by Gennaro Angiulo.

He's a hell of a cop,
he's a straight shooter,

and, well, we're damn lucky to have him.

Welcome, John.

You know, Southie kids...

we went straight from
playing cops and robbers

on the playground to doing
it for real in the streets.

And just like on the playground,

it wasn't always easy to tell who's who.

There he is.

Oh, John!

How are you?

Yeah, good.

If I'm buying anyone,

- I'm buying Gary Carter.
- Gary Carter.

That kid is a star in the making.

Which is why it'll never happen.

Not in a million fuckin'
years. You know why?

Because it's the Sox.

So, seriously, what do I call you now?

I mean, is it Billy?

Or I got to call you Senator?

Oh, come on. I'm the one drooling here.

Mr. FBI Hero.

How's the wife? How's Marianne?

Great. Can't complain.

Well, look at you. Look at you.

I haven't forgotten where we came from.

"Don't you ever do that again.

I want to see you throw the first punch,

and throw the first two punches."

Oh, man. Yeah, I got to
get down to the Old Harbor.

You ought to, John.

Your ma would love to see you.

How's, uh... how's your brother?

How is Jimmy?

Jimmy's Jimmy.

You know?

Why do you ask?

Well, it's no secret

that Southie's been a war zone lately.

What, with 60, 70 slayings?

But your brother and his Winter Hill boys,

they're still out there.

They must be doing something right. Right?

All right, John. Let's
call this what it is.

You're jerking me off under the table

- to get to Jimmy.
- I'm not.

Jimmy's business is Jimmy's business.

It sure as hell ain't none of mine.

I got an edict to eradicate the Mafia.

And I know that Jimmy and Stephen Flemmi

are musclin' in on their numbers rackets

and their vending machines.

And I know that this ain't
sitting very well with Angiulo.

I don't want to hear this.

You need to hear this, Billy.

Your brother...

is wading in some very dark waters.

You know... we all need friends.

Even Jimmy.

Even you.

Nobody gets there on their own.

Ain't that right, Senator?

You know what, John?

It's good to see you doing so well.

Really, it is.

Give my regards to the boys at the Plaza.

Listen, you don't want to
give that to Jimmy, fine.

But just tell him I
said... hello, and I'm back.

Oh, if Jimmy wants to get in touch,

he'll find you. Trust me.

You ought to come over to dinner sometime.

Mary and the kids would love to see you.

Robert, how are things?

How are you, Senator?

Good to see you.

Oh, there she is.

Agent Marianne.

Hands where I can see 'em.

Looks good. You're making progress.

Well, thank you, Agent Connolly.

Did you save Boston yet?

It's early, but I'm working on it.

You better work hard, because
Hoover's expecting big things

from his favorite son.

He won't be disappointed.

Oh, is that so?

Hey, little thief.

What are you doing? I know what you want.

- Jimmy? Is that you?
- What you looking for?

Good morning, Ma.

How was work?

It was long. I got to get
some sleep, sweetheart.

How we doin', huh?

All right, hey.

You still owe me $56.

What do you say? Hmm?

All right, one hand, huh?

- One hand.
- Ah, yeah, yeah.

And $56 is still a lot of money, Jimmy.

Oh, don't I know it.

You gonna cheat me again
or you gonna play straight?

Ah, look who's talkin'. Cheat.

Ah, Jimmy... get the jacket off.

Here we go.

Gin.

Come on! Not again.

You're not paying attention.

Can't you see I'm after hearts?

And you just keep feeding me hearts!

Billy, I'm getting creamed over here.

Better you than me, pal.

Did you learn nothing in prison?

Oh, all those hours and no
one taught you how to play gin.

Well, they didn't teach me
how to cheat against my mom.

Look, here's my cards. Count 'em out.

Hey, Ma, did you know old Mother
Burke died over on Baker Street?

No one found her for a couple of weeks.

That's right.

And when they broke down the door,

her cats had devoured the best part of her.

That's... that's beautiful, Ma.

Who's hungry?

I'm out. I got creamed,
I'm going to take a nap.

Thanks for cheating, Ma.

See you later.

- Hey, Jimmy.
- Yeah?

Do you remember little John Connolly?

Yeah, why? What's up?

He's an FBI agent now. He's come back home.

_

_

_

_

Connolly.

I'm on my way.

Hey, Jimmy. It's good to see you.

The fuckin' FBI, John?

You got two minutes.

All right, I'm gonna cut right to it.

I... I have it on very good authority

that Gennaro Angiulo is
planning to have you murdered.

Is that so?

And how does he plan to achieve that?

That's the kind of
information that my side gets.

And that's the kind of
information that we can provide.

John, do you know what I do to rats?

It ain't rattin', Jimmy.

It's an alliance.

An alliance between me and the fuckin' FBI?

No, no, between you and me.

I can help you, Jimmy, and you can help me.

Listen, the whole fucking game has changed.

And I'm not trying to clean up Southie.

Fuck that! I fuckin' love this place.

I'm interested in the North End

and taking down the fuckin' WOPs.

I'm interested in the Mafia,
and I bet you are, too.

That's two minutes.

Just think about it, will you?

Hi.

Here she is, Miss America.

And don't we look beautiful today.

Where's my boy, sleeping upstairs?

Yeah.

- Should I wake him up?
- No.

- You don't want me to wake him up?
- No!

You sore at me?

Jimmy, don't wake him up.

I'll be sore if you wake him up.

I'm gonna go wake him up now.

- Don't wake him up.
- Wakin' him up.

Hey, buddy. Got a question for you.

What are you gonna do
with the rest of that?

Not drink it.

No, buddy, you got to
drink every drop of that.

You know why?

That is pure vitamin C,

and it's freshly squeezed by your mommy,

which is, obviously, makes it
more special, even magical-like.

It's true. Go on. Put it away.

Good boy.

So...

do you feel like, maybe,
you want to tell me

what happened in school yesterday?

Oh, I remember. Something did happen.

Yeah? What happened?

Timmy. He's the kid who's
always trying to trip me.

And he stole my coloring
pencils off my desk

when my back was turned.

So I punched him in the face.

Good boy.

Jimmy.

Hey.

Let me ask you a question...

is that why you think you got in trouble?

'Cause you punched him in the face?

All right.

I need you to listen very
carefully to what I'm sayin'

because there are lessons again and again

throughout your whole life.

You got to learn from these things, right?

Here's the deal...

you did not get in trouble

because you punched this
sneaky brat in the face.

Not at all.

You got in trouble

because you punched this
sneaky little brat in the face

in front of other people.

Jimmy?

I really don't think that
that's the right thing

to be teaching your kid.

No, that's absolutely what I
should be tellin' him, babe.

So, the lesson you got to learn is this...

it's not what you do,

it's when and where you do it,

and who you do it to or with.

Huh? You follow?

Yes, I follow.

Punch people when no one's looking.

That's exactly right.

If nobody sees it,

it didn't happen.

Well, look what crawled out of the gutter.

Good afternoon, Officer Flynn.

What happened? I must
have been doing 30 in a 25.

Gonna lock me up for life or somethin'?

Why don't you do your fucking job

instead of trying to jerk off on
us, you pathetic fuckin' stiff?

- All right, Tommy. Tommy!
- I'm doing my fuckin' job.

I'm sure the officer
didn't stop us by accident.

You wouldn't happen to
be carrying a message,

now, would you?

In fact, I am. Gerry
Angiulo sends his regards.

Says he doesn't like finding
his boys beat to a pulp

and left for dead in empty parking lots.

He also said he's confident

you ain't gonna cause him any more troubles

'cause if you do, it's only gonna
cause much worse troubles for you.

Listen, motherfucker.

You think 'cause you're
wearing a fucking uniform,

you can do what you want?

- Go fuck yourself!
- Tommy!

- Fuck you!
- Tommy, close the fucking door.

I got to tell you something, Officer Flynn.

It's a sad day when a native son

takes up with his oppressor.

There's a word for that
back home, you know.

Penalty's death.

You threatenin' me, Bulger?

The last thing I would do
if I was planning to harm you

is to warn you in advance, you dumb fuck.

You better watch yourself, Bulger.

You better fuck yourself, Flynn.

Fuck you, you project rat.
And fuck you, you rummy.

_

I never trusted
Flynn. He's a fucking prick.

Take it easy, will you?

Even as kids, he was a fuckin' prick!

A fuckin' prick.

Please, calm down.

Swear to God, I'm gonna fuckin' kill him.

I'll fucking kill that Flynn.

Take it easy, will you?

Cock-sucking, turncoat motherfucker.

He's fucking dead!

You're not fuckin'
killing anybody, Tommy,

and you ain't killing a cop any time.

You hear me?

Fuck you, Whitey.

Oh, Jesus. Tommy...

- Go fuck yourself.
- Come on. Enough.

Huh?

Fuck you.

Take it easy. Take it easy, come on.

You want to take a shot, Tommy?

- Enough.
- Take your shot.

But make it your fucking best,

'cause I get up, I eat you.

- Sit down. Sit down.
- Let's go. Come on.

Relax. Jimmy, he's shit-faced.

- I'll deal with him.
- Fuckin' better.

- Don't even worry about it.
- What, you think I look fucking worried?

Sit down. Please, sit down.

Jesus Christ, he's fuckin' retarded.

Jack-o! Give me another one, huh?

Hey, Tommy.

Yeah?

You watch yourself.

Mr. Martorano,

you are one of the most
feared men in Boston

and well-known as the chief executioner

for the Winter Hill Gang.

Is that correct?

Yes.

You are also reputed to
have murdered some 20 people.

Would you say that is accurate?

That is accurate, yes.

Mr. Martorano, I want you
to be as specific as possible

in answering why the
war between the Angiulos

and Winter Hill escalated.

Simple. Territory.

Specifically South Boston?

Yes, Southie.

Angiulo wanted to control everything...

loan-sharking, vending
machines, all the rackets.

And there were consequences.

Yeah.

There was consequences.

What the fuck?!

Don't worry about it!

Tommy!

Yeah. Fellas.

We need you. We're looking for Suitcase.

Suitcase? The fuck did he do?

He set up Mickey.

Fuck me.

Hang on a minute.

Hey, what's going on, Jimmy?

You guys looking for Suitcase?

I seen him up on Winter
Hill a few hours ago.

Need me to jump in?

Nah, we got it, buddy.

What the fuck are you doing, Tommy?

It's a fuckin' vest. You
got a problem with it?

Makes you look like a faggot.

We'll see who the faggot is

when it stops a couple of fuckin' bullets.

Hey, Jimmy, about that bullshit

the other night at Triple O's,

I was... I was fucking way out of line.

Forget about it, Tommy. You was drunk.

I know I was drunk, but
that ain't an excuse.

Should never have fuckin' happened.

No, it should never have happened.

But that's the thing.

I want you to listen to me.

- You need to keep an eye on it
- Yeah.

Because, you know, the juice,

it'll sneak up and bite you on the ass,

and you never know when,
you know what I mean?

- Absolutely, absolutely.
- And I worry about you, that's all.

- I'll keep an eye on it, I promise.
- Huh?

I promise.

We good?

Yeah, we're good.

Lots of good your vest did
you today, you fucking prick.

Put him in the trunk.

Why'd they kill Tommy?

I think Jim was convinced

that Tommy ratted out Mickey to Angiulo.

Either that or Tommy
raising a fist to Jimmy,

which is never a good idea.

Where'd they bury him?

In Jim's favorite spot.

Right there under the
bridge in Neponset River.

He buried so many bodies in that shithole,

it became known as the
Bulger Burial Ground.

I don't know how you fuckers didn't get it.

I really don't. I mean, in the beginning,

Jim was a small-town player

who really only mattered in Southie.

Don't get me wrong... he
was a tough motherfucker,

but small-time.

And then the next thing you
know, he's a goddamn kingpin.

You know why?

Because the FBI let it happen.

This is John.

Connolly.

Jimmy.

This is potentially
the biggest opportunity

the Bureau will ever have had

in the history of the city of Boston,

and you need time to think about it?

Before you go flying any
further off the handle,

it might help to recall that
Whitey Bulger is an ex-convict

and that his parole category
is "supervised released status,"

a designation that we would
be required to get withdrawn

or else we would be in
violation of Bureau regulations.

So? We withdraw or we violate.

What we don't do, unless
we're clinically insane,

is blow this chance!

By the way, it's "Jimmy," not "Whitey."

The only thing you're gonna get

by calling him Whitey is a fucking smack.

Oh, is that so?

So I'm supposed to cater
to this fucker's whims?

If it brings you Angiulo, yes!

And what makes you so sure

that he's gonna be a reliable source?

Because in my experience,

everyone of those Winter Hill pricks

is a double-crossing cocksucker.

I grew up with him in Southie.

Jimmy, his brother Billy, and me.

And that is a bond that doesn't get broken.

I mean, if he gives me
his word, he will keep it.

So we're relying on the word of criminals.

Jimmy's no ordinary criminal.

Well, you're right about that.

"A vicious animal who won't
take no for an answer."

"Violent decisiveness
at any hint of betrayal."

Oh!

"A ripened psychopath determined
to succeed above all else."

I got a lot of respect for you, Charles,

but I cannot fucking
believe what I'm hearing.

Four Mafia murders in the
North End this month alone,

and we don't have a
legitimate case on any of them.

The Angiulos are out there laughing at us

like we're fuckin' a bunch of clowns!

A bunch of clowns!

Come on, guys.

If we're serious about
bringing down the Italians,

Jimmy is the only way.

What about these LSD experiments in prison?

He can't be stable.

He did it for time off and money.

And it was a handful of times.

It was 50 times, John.

Just trust me when I tell you

he is a smart, stable motherfucker.

What do you think, Morris?

I think that we have more
to gain than to lose on this.

I think we go with John.

I think we bring Whitey...
uh, Jimmy, into the tent.

No drugs. No fuckin' murder, Connolly.

_

_

_

You listen good, 'cause
I'm only gonna say this once.

I will never hurt or adversely affect

any of my friends or financial partners.

I do not consider this
rattin' or informin'.

This is business.

I couldn't have said it any better.

You're a liaison.

- You pretty much do whatever you want.
- _

And no one's gonna raise an eyebrow

so long as you're leadin' us
into some pretty big busts.

There's just one restriction

- on our side...
- _

you can't kill anybody, Jimmy.

Kevin, did you know
that Whitey was an informant?

No, I didn't know.

I mean, he hated rats.

We fuckin' buried rats, especially our own.

I mean, I knew he had his
connections in the FBI.

I knew he had his sources.

But I figured he was playing them

like he did everybody else.

But obviously, he had a plan.

Where do you get the
energy for that shit, Jimmy?

Hey, Steve. Hang on a minute.

We've known each other a long fuckin' time.

Can I trust you, Stevie?

You know you can trust me.

Good.

'Cause there's something
I want you to know.

I'm making a deal with the Feds.

An alliance.

You're informing to the FBI?

No. There's informing, and
then there's informing.

Informing, you should be fucking chopped up

and put into a garbage bag, that's it.

Informing, you're the scum of the scum.

But it's not informing

when you're bringing down the cocksuckers

who deserve to be brought down...

like the fucking Brits in the six counties

or the goddamn Dagos up in the North End.

It's a business opportunity.

Get the FBI to fight our wars

against our enemies...

while they protect us,

and we do whatever the fuck we want to do.

All right, Jimmy.

There's a guy named John Connolly.

He's a Southie boy. We grew up together.

He's all right.

So, we're doing this?

Yeah, we're gonna do this.

Ho-ho-ho!

Shh, he's asleep. He's a little sick.

He's a little sick? Sick with what?

He's just got a fever.

He'll be fine in a few days.
It's probably just the flu.

Did you take him to the doctor?

No, he'll be okay.

Take him to the doctor
in the morning, would you?

It's only a little,
but it might get bigger

because the hose, at this time of the year,

it's always leaking
and bursting, that pipe.

You want me to get Tom to fix it?

Sure. It's nice of you, Billy, thank you.

No worries. No worries.

Marianne, how are you
settling into Southie?

How do you find it?

I like it.

It's taking a little getting used to,

but... it's different.

Different how?

I find it a rather tight-knit community.

And I could have hoped to have
met a few more people by now.

You know, those sort of
things just take a little time

and you need introductions to people.

Mary and I can help with
that. Can't we, Mary?

Yeah, indeed we can, Bill.

- That would be great, thank you.
- Once you settle in,

you'll find that people around
here are as good as gold.

I'm sure that's true.

Well, of course.

♪ Dashing through the snow
in a one-horse open sleigh ♪

♪ O'er the fields we go,
laughing all the way ♪

All right, everybody. On
the count of 3... 1, 2, 3.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Boys, come back down here
in five minutes, you hear?

Can we open presents?

Open presents, right.

Whose turn is it first?

That was you?

I don't know how

your brother does it.

What's that?

Nine children.

Oh.

That's a complete mystery to me, as well.

Hello?

Hey, Stevie. I just wanted to say...

I can't understand... calm down.

It's really good that you're comin' along.

It makes things in my world a lot easier.

All right, all right.

- Sure, John.
- Hold on, hold on.

Jimmy, phone.

What?

You need to take the call.

Excuse me. Douglas Cyr's room, please.

Room 508, around the corner.

Thank you.

How is he?

He's in there right now with the doctor,

and they're saying that
it's Reye's syndrome.

What the fuck is Reye's syndrome?

- I thought it was the flu.
- I know, so did I.

But then when you left,
I called the doctor,

and they said to just
keep giving him aspirin

every four hours, just like
I'd been doing for days.

But then his fever got higher,

and then... and then his
behavior started changing,

and he became really angry to me.

Okay.

Like, really angry, and
his body was all stiff,

so I brought him here, and they said

that the aspirin that I had been
giving him just made him worse.

- No. No.
- Yeah, that's what they said!

That's what they said...
that I made him worse.

Sorry, no change.

I'm taking him home, Lindsey.

I don't fucking care what they say.

I want to take my boy home.

He's not coming home, Jimmy.

Don't say that, please. Don't say that.

He's on life support, Jimmy.
He's not going anywhere.

You got to accept it.

I don't got to do fucking nothing.

Look at me.

Jimmy, please look at me.

He's never gonna be our
little boy again, never.

Don't.

- He's brain-dead.
- Don't say that.

He's on life support, he can't move,

and I don't want him like that!

I can't have my little boy be like that!

I'll pull the plug myself.

I will.

What did you say?

What the fuck did you just say?

My boy?

You pull the plug on my boy?

I can't have him like this, Jimmy.

- How could you be so cold?
- Don't say that to me.

- How could you be so cold?
- Don't say that.

I could never, ever.

- Don't you dare fucking say that.
- You're pathetic.

You of all people in
the whole fucking world

- cannot say that to me!
- Who the fuck are you?

You motherfucker.

Go fuck yourself.

Because you have been convicted

of federal racketeering and murder charges

and aim to make a deal to spare your life,

I'd like to start with the
period of Mr. Bulger's life

after the death of his son,

when his enterprise expanded

and he became a so-called
"crime lord" of Boston.

Okay.

From what were you and Mr.
Bulger making your money?

Ah, it was a lot of things...

running dope on the streets of Southie.

We had the rackets. We had the ponies.

Tenants on every corner.

This ain't your neighborhood, Whitey.

Is that right?

But we were
making weekly collections.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!

You name it, and yeah, we was doin' it.

The lottery, Jimmy?

- _
- JIMMY: What can I tell you, Billy boy?

I went in on a ticket as a lark,

and I fucking won, fair and square. What?

Would you say Winter Hill was thriving?

We were making a lot of money.

Which meant we had to
pay off a lot of people,

keep things running smooth, you know?

Local street cops, Feds, whatever.

We were throwing money around like crazy.

And then there was those trips to Miami.

We were getting into the jai alai racket

with John Callahan

and an individual named Brian Halloran.

Jimmy never really trusted him.

I swear to God, I'll shoot
youse both in the face.

For obvious reasons.

But he didn't think he could
make the deal without him.

So...

Right now,
Connolly, Bulger and his crew

are swanning around Southie

like a bunch of fucking
Vikings, raping and pillaging,

and we can't touch them because
they're no longer criminals.

They're professional criminal consultants.

But my question to you is,

have they actually given us
one concrete fucking thing

that we can move on?

Just give me a fucking break!

After the desert you been walking through?

This is your ticket to the big time.

And all you can do is fucking bitch.

All right, you fucking listen to me, John.

We have given Bulger
miles and miles of leeway,

and so far, he's given us dick in return.

I need a wire inside
Angiulo's headquarters.

That fucker's been moving around so much,

I need to know specifically
where his fucking headquarters

even are, and the fact that we don't

makes us look like a bunch
of fucking Keystone Cops.

I need evidence that I can present

to the federal prosecutor.

And you'll get it.

You got two weeks.

That's fucking it!

Then I pull the plug.

Are you telling me that
your fucking boys at the Bureau

can't find Angiulo's place?

For fuck's sake, everyone in
Boston knows where the guy is!

The fucker keeps moving
all over the North End.

I need specifics, Jimmy.

Not tomorrow, not next week... now. Today.

I need to get a wire inside
Angiulo's headquarters,

or I can't keep protecting you.

It's that simple.

All right.

But I need you to do something for me.

You want a fucking wiretap or not?

Jesus, Jimmy. Jimmy.

I want all of Angiulo's vending machines

out of the Old Colony.

I don't care how you do
it. I just want 'em gone.

Do you follow?

Do you fucking follow?

All right, then.

When you leave for work tomorrow morning,

after you've gone for your
jog down Silver Street...

after you stopped at McNulty's
for a black coffee and a Danish,

after you read the Sports page,

after you kissed Marianne goodbye,

you walk straight out
your door to your car,

which is parked in the same fuckin' spot

it's always parked in...

right before you put your
keys into the ignition,

maybe have a look in the glove box.

There just might be an
early Christmas present

in there for you.

What's this?

Gentlemen, this is intel,

from our source in Winter Hill.

Holy shit.

98 Prince Street.

Angiulo Family headquarters.

Fuck me.

Yeah, "fuck me" and fuck you is right.

An hour ago, I got a
wet shave in a barbershop

right across from 98 Prince
in the heart of the North End,

and within 15 minutes, I saw Mikey Angiulo,

Bobby Carozza, and one
Vincent "The Animal" Ferrara

- all go inside.
- Jesus, John.

Do you want to talk about
who's a valuable asset, Charles?

In five fucking years of nobodies

with Scotch on their
breath giving us shit...

not a goddamn thing.

And giving them 40 bucks
to go around the corner

and get drunk and dick us around?

Fuck that. This, on the other hand,

is the kind of intel we get

from James "Whitey" Bulger, gentlemen.

No one else.

Jimmy always had a plan.

Like him giving up Angiulo's
address at 98 Prince Street.

Now, that was a smart play

because it kept Connolly,
you know, off our backs.

We had stuff going on in Florida.

Situation down there was changing,

and not for the better.

World Jai Alai would
like to introduce its new owner,

C.E.O. and Chief Operating
Officer Roger Wheeler.

- Roger?
- Thank you, Alan.

It's an exciting time for Jai Alai,

and I'm honored to be part of its growth

and expansion here in South Florida.

John Callahan has us
poised for great success.

I can't believe
people pay to watch this shit.

Well, they fucking love it, Stevie.

They fucking love to bet on it.

That's making us very rich.

But who knows for how much
longer with Wheeler moving in?

Guy's a fucking double-barreled prick.

But at least we still got this.

Oh, no, no, no. You give
that to Kevin, not me.

All right.

So, what's the
problem with this Wheeler guy?

What's his deal?

He's got CPAs crawling all up my ass,

all over the books,
checking every fucking thing.

The cash flow, the free meals,
the parking-lot receipts.

Just a matter of time before he finds out

how much cash is missing.

Just make him an offer for the company.

Tried. Won't sell.

Would his widow sell?

Maybe she could be persuaded.

Maybe balloonhead over here...
you could do us a favor.

- Who, me?
- Yeah.

Sure.

Whatever you say, Stevie.

But, you know, there
must be some other way.

Yeah, but you don't get rid of him,

how's he supposed to go away?

What's the downside of this thing, John?

There is no downside, Stevie.

And the upside is, we get our
cut and keep printing money.

I mean, what's to connect you

to anything that happens to Wheeler?

He lives in Tulsa, for fuck's sake!

Everybody knows we have World Jai Alai.

Who's "everybody"?

We're fucking everybody.

Brian.

Take the bag. I want you to have it.

Yeah. I want you to have it.

No.

Lot of money in that bag, Jimmy.

I know exactly how much
money's in that fucking bag.

Brian, take the bag and get out of here.

To do the hit on... on Wheeler?

No.

That's $20,000 for you
to not do the hit.

I don't get it.

Take the money, keep
your fucking mouth shut

about what you just heard.

It's best you're not involved.
Take the fucking money.

Take the fucking money.
Take the fucking money.

Okay.

Um...

so I should go now?

Yeah, you should go now.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Listen, I know you guys have your ways

and everything like that, don't you?

But don't ever hand me a bag
of fucking money in public.

I'm sorry, Jimmy. I just, I thought that...

No, I know. I get it. It's all right.

Don't sweat it. But I mean...

All right.

Never again.

But we're good with Wheeler, right?

Afternoon, Mr. Wheeler!

Howdy.

Roger Wheeler?

What the fuck
is this jai alai thing

that Whitey's got his
fingers into all of a sudden?

What is this bullshit?

That's the word on the street.

Looks like a stupid
fucking game, you ask me.

Yeah, well, I'll tell ya.

I don't picture Bulger
going all the way

out to Tulsa, Oklahoma,
to kill somebody.

But then again, he's
such a sick little fuck.

And that stupid half-breed
buddy of his, Flemmi.

The two of them, they'll
go anywhere, anytime

and whack anybody out if there's
a few bucks in it for them.

I got to shut this
fucking thing down, John.

Now we got people on tape

talking about how Whitey
and Flemmi committed murder.

That is a big fucking problem.

That tape is just gangsters talking shit

like little fucking housewives.

Yeah, maybe. But I got
to tell you something.

McGuire is gonna start asking questions.

That is why I'm gonna file it very deep.

All right? Problem gone.

Gone.

That's against protocol.

Fuck protocol.

Fuck it.

It's a little lie,

a little white lie to
protect the bigger truth.

You know what Jimmy has given us.

A gold mine.

And do you want to be the
person that jeopardizes that?

We are bringing down the house, man.

La Cosa Nostra.

So just relax.

Relax.

I'll handle it. It's on me.

I got this.

Authorities in Tulsa, Oklahoma,
are still sifting through clues

in the murder of Roger Wheeler,
head of the Telex Corporation.

- Today, Telex offered a large reward...
- Turn it up.

...for information leading
to the arrest of the killer.

Hey! Turn it the fuck up!

...Wheeler's more controversial
business holdings.

Sandy Gilmore has a report.

Roger Wheeler was
gunned down at close range

as he left his weekly golf game.

Wheeler was a self-made,
hard-driving entrepren...

What do you want, huh?

This meeting between
Rizzo and Sal Manzinni.

The walk-in in Interview 3

says Whitey Bulger killed Roger Wheeler.

Gentlemen, this is Brian Halloran.

You have something you want to tell us?

There's a lot I can tell
you. I need guarantees first.

Fuck you. You
don't get no guarantees.

You talk or you walk.

Okay.

Whitey Bulger planned
to murder Roger Wheeler,

that jai alai dude from Tulsa.

It's been on the news and everything.

- Tulsa?
- Mm-hmm.

Oh. So, what does some
random jai alai guy in Tulsa

have to do with Whitey Bulger?

Whitey was pulling down
some serious coin in jai alai

until Wheeler bought the fucking thing,

and he didn't want to
cut Whitey in for a piece.

So...

You two know anything about this?

Psh.

Go on.

Bulger paid me 20 grand to
keep quiet about the hit.

Listen, you got to protect me.

'Cause if you don't, I'm fuckin' dead!

What weapon was used on Wheeler?

How should I know? I didn't do
the hit. Johnny Martorano did.

How do you know it was Martorano?

Look, I make my living
on the streets, okay?

All right? I know these things.

Hey, look! Look at me!
You got to protect me.

Well, so far, you haven't given us anything

to merit protection.

Are you fuckin' deaf?

I just gave you two fucking names!

Where was this so-called
meeting taking place?

You...

All right, all right.

Okay.

I'm in Miami, I hear Jimmy's in town,

and I tag along to a little spot

with Steve Flemmi, Jimmy,

and this other guy... guy, Callahan.

And I'm just minding
my own fucking business,

and then Callahan says
that he thinks that Wheeler

is gonna be a problem.

And then Jimmy says,

"Do you think his widow would be willing

- to sell the franchise?"
- His widow?

Mm-hmm. We all know
what that means, right?

And then Flemmi asked me
if I could take care of it.

Would you take a lie detector?

Okay.

- Yeah?
- No.

'Cause then you might start
asking me other questions.

Right? And next thing I know, boom!

You got me on like 15 other
things I didn't even do!

"Boom"? What did you not do, Brian?

Did you not kill your drug
dealers in a Chinese restaurant?

'Cause that's why you're really here.

That's all over the fucking street,

so you thought you'd come in here

and try and cop some
immunity before the fact.

That's what's really going on, isn't it,

you coke-snorting piece of shit?

Connolly?

I'm a fuckin' dead man!

What do you think?

I don't believe a fucking
word that guy says.

I say we cut him loose.

He's a drug addict.

Morris?

Yeah.

He won't take a polygraph? Cut him loose.

Yeah.

Our dear Saint Patrick...

he fought off the British and the Romans,

- brutal outsiders who wanted to enslave
- _

the good people of Ireland.

And, today... well, today,

we Bostonians face a similar invasion.

Drugs, violent crimes
ravaging our communities.

You know, today we fight a new fight,

a fight so our children and their children,

and children for generations to come

can share the Boston we
hold so dear in our hearts.

So today, to all snakes, we say,
"Get the hell out of Boston!"

"You'll find no shelter here!"

To Saint Patrick!

Let's hear it for these boys! Come on, now!

Billy boy! Billy boy!

Give them a hand!

Jimmy! Where the fuck have you been?

I been looking for you everywhere.

Oh, hey. Come here with me.

Come here.

Don't you fucking ever talk
to me in public like that again.

Did you kill Roger Wheeler?

The businessman from Tulsa.
Did you have him killed?

Why the fuck would I go to Tulsa

to kill some fucking
prick I don't even know?

That's bad for fuckin' business.

I know that you have a
hand in the World Jai Alai.

Huh? And suddenly, the new owner gets shot.

I suggest you think these things through

before you make unfounded
accusations against me.

All right, all right.

Just...

By the way, let me ask you a question.

How did you know we was
involved in jai alai?

Happy Saint Patrick's Day. How are you?

Everybody always commented
on my work, right.

- Sure, they did.
- They did! They did!

I was in the low post, I was driving
it in hard, like fuckin' McHale!

How could you fuckin' take that?

- I was!
- You got short arms!

I don't got short arms.

You know who had short arms?

Nate "Tiny" Archibald had short arms.

So there's hope.

Ah, fuck!

Fuck!

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

Jimmy!

Jimmy!

No!

No, no, no, no!

No, no, no, no, no!

No!

What the hell happened?

Get back inside!

Yeah, yeah, call the police!

Morris!

Connolly!

Brian Halloran was just gunned
down in broad fucking daylight.

You want to tell me how the fuck
you just let him walk out the door?

We're not running a hotel, Charles.

The guy wouldn't even
take a polygraph test.

How did word even leak that
Halloran was in here? Huh?

Are you pointing the finger at me?

Should I be?

I don't know, Charles.

You know, people talk.

What are we supposed to do?

Put this piece of shit in
a witness protection program

when we can't even validate a
single fucking thing he says?

And you're pointing the finger at me?

I'm trying to bring down the Italian Mafia

with the help of Jimmy Bulger,

and you're pointing the
finger at fucking me?

Fuck you!

Hey. You motherfuckers from Southie

have some kind of sick
faggot love for each other?

Did you just call me a faggot, huh?

That's it. That's it.

Come here!

- That's it.
- Fucking faggot!

- You're making my point exactly, Connolly.
- Come on!

I'm putting an end to this
Bulger and Flemmi informer shit.

- You can't do that! No!
- You cannot tell me

that they're not connected to this killing!

You cannot fucking tell me that!

It's too important! You can't do it!

- Guys, guys, guys!
- It's fucking over.

You got to fucking listen
to this. It's Angiulo.

I think we finally fucking got him.

Well, RICO
does not cover us.

- Isn't that right?
- Mr. Angiulo,

we're not infiltrating
legitimate businesses.

I wouldn't be in a
legitimate business

for all the fucking
money in the world.

We're selling marijuana.
We're not infiltrating.

We're illegal here, legal there.

Arsonists. We're
every fuckin' thing.

Pimps? So what? Prostitutes?

Yeah. Yeah, we're a
fucking bookmaker.

And finally,
they hit the mother lode.

They got Angiulo talking
bookmaking, loan-sharking,

and use of arson, how he
handled his pimps and his pros.

You must have heard...

they called him "The Mafia Hunter,"

"the Bureau's shining star,"

"the man who cleaned
out Boston's underworld".

He was... he was a superstar.

♪ ...you want me to, but ♪

♪ Oh! ♪

♪ Oh, no ♪

♪ Don't bring me down ♪

♪ I'm beggin' you, darlin' ♪

♪ Oh! ♪

♪ Oh, no ♪

♪ Don't bring me down ♪

♪ Oh, no, no ♪

- ♪ Baby, please ♪
- Please, baby.

- ♪ Oh, no, no ♪
- Don't bring me down.

- ♪ Don't bring me down ♪
- You know I need you.

- ♪ I need your tender lovin' ♪
- Oh, woman.

♪ So, please... ♪

Mr. Martorano, were you
in Miami in the spring of 1982?

Yes.

Was John Connolly in Miami in
the spring of 1982, as well?

Yes, he was.

Describe the circumstance

that led to all of your
being in Miami at that time.

Celebrating Angiulo's arrest,

but at the same time, making the alliance,

the bond, between Jimmy
and Connolly stronger.

How was that?

Jimmy had some loose ends to tie up.

I think he thought having Connolly along

wasn't such a bad idea.

♪ My heart is full of
love and desire for you ♪

♪ Now come on down and
do what you gotta do ♪

♪ You started this
fire down in my soul ♪

- ♪ Now can't you see... ♪
- CALLAHAN: Hey, Jimmy!

Whitey!

♪ ...come on now,
satisfy the need in me ♪

♪ Only your good
lovin' can set me free ♪

♪ Set me free ♪

♪ Need your lovin', baby ♪

♪ Need, need ♪

♪ Need your love right now ♪

♪ Come on, satisfy
the need in me, baby ♪

♪ Come on, satisfy the need in me ♪

♪ Oooooh ♪

♪ Baby ♪

Just for the record,

you killed John Callahan
that night in Miami...

shot him in the head and stuffed
him in the trunk of his own car.

Yes.

Was John Connolly aware of that fact?

Yes, he was.

I see.

Is that a new suit?

It's flashier, no?

Those lapels, that tapering.

I see you got a nice,
new gold watch there, too.

What are you getting at, Marianne?

Nothing. Not anything.

- Marianne?
- Hmm?

You're dressing differently.
You're walking differently.

You're getting manicures.

Uhh... I'm walking differently?

Yeah, I think you are.

Your head and your shoulders,
the way you carry yourself.

You're changing, John.

I'm not changing. I'm not changing!

I'm... I might be getting
older, but I'm not changing.

It's Jimmy Bulger that's changing you.

Ah, here we go.

Ever since you locked arms
with that guy, you've changed.

I can see it like the nose on my face.

He's bad news, John.

He's not bad news.

He is an informant.

It's my job.

You know this. I told you this.

I've known him since forever.

And you certainly hold your
boyhood heroes in high regard.

"Jimmy" this, "Jimmy" that.

He was very good to me
when I was little, Marianne.

That's all you need to know.

How was he good to you, John?

Did he take you
trick-or-treating?

I know that it's kids' stuff to you, maybe.

I'm gonna go for a drive.

Fuck.

Like it or not, Marianne,
you married a street kid.

And the streets taught me

that you give and you get
loyalty from your friends.

And loyalty means a lot to me.

You lock it.

"In the eyes of the unwise,

they did appear to die.

Their going looked like a disaster,

but they are in peace.

If they experienced
punishment as men see it,

their hope was rich with immortality.

God has put them to the test

and proved them worthy to be with Him.

He has tested them like gold in a furnace.

They who trust in Him
will understand the truth."

In the name of the Father and
the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Amen.

That's a pity that Jimmy
couldn't pallbearer with us.

I know, but he was just
protecting the family name.

He's a...

he's a good man.

I remember sitting at
this very table with you

some 20 years ago, working
on my first campaign.

I was stuffing envelopes

and licking stamps until my tongue was dry.

Oh, Jesus, we were just kids.

Mm-hmm.

Now look at us.

John.

I'm very sorry for your loss, Jimmy.

Your mother was a good woman.

Thanks.

Well, I'll let you guys have some time.

God bless.

It's so quiet.

Never heard this house so quiet.

First his son
died, then his mother passed.

And Jimmy was devastated.

He was never the same.

The only time he ever seemed happy

was when he was talking about the I.R.A.

How you doing?

Jimmy Bulger, Joe Cahill.

I know who Jimmy is.

And I know who Joe Cahill is.

It's a real pleasure, sir.

- Thank you, Jimmy.
- Come on in, Joe.

We're really deep in it, Jimmy,
and we gonna need your help.

Well, you're gonna get it.

Police had laid virtual siege

to the I.R.A. man's home,

obviously determined
not to let the Provos

stage a repeat of the
paramilitary funeral

they gave his cousin shot
by the S.A.S. two weeks ago.

So, you can see what we're up against.

It's pure evil.

Joe, on my honor,

I can promise that you will
have the biggest weapons' cache

you ever laid your Irish eyes on.

I have to tell you, that would be

a rather large arsenal, indeed.

We're not choirboys.

I want you to know I'm
here for you, always.

The old country thanks you, Jimmy.

Sláinte.

Sláinte.

Say cheese!

Thanks for all the support.

Jerry, Jerry.

Dawg.

Congratulations. And a hell of a career.

Thank you, John.

And same for you, huh?

Raise, promotion, the whole shebang.

Enough about me. What's
next for you, champ?

Tell you the truth, I don't really care.

Enough of this public sector shit.

I'm starting my own defense practice.

Start making real money.

I don't blame you. Best of luck with that.

And you're leaving us in the
hands of a new prosecutor.

- Yeah.
- Who is he?

Fred Wyshak.

Fucking bulldog who was
kicking ass down in Jersey,

but returned to save his hometown.

Sound familiar?

- Hey, keep doing what you're doing.
- I will.

A lot of people are very sad to see you go.

Thanks for coming, John. Take care.

You too.

This is so fucking sick.

You're sick, Stevie.

What the fuck was in your mind

when you decided that
your girlfriend's daughter,

who happens to call you "Daddy,"

was a good choice to suck your cock?

Stepdaughter.

Don't correct me, Stevie.

Not now.

And she's a fucking
prostitute, is that correct?

Jimmy, you know she's a prostitute.

Do not assume what I do or do not know.

You answer my fucking question.

Is she or is she not a prostitute?

Correct.

And she's a fucking hopeless
drug addict, as well.

Huh?

Little whores on drugs that talk

don't make me feel any better.

Hi.

She may know a few things
she shouldn't have. I'm sorry.

You fucking better be sorry, pal.

- Hi!
- How you doin'?

Is this for me?

Every stitch.

This is wicked shit!

Yeah, it is wicked shit.

So, where are we going?

Well... not far.

We found a place where
you could stay a while.

It's very comfortable, you know.

Quiet.

Nobody's gonna bother you.

Sounds great.

But before we leave,

I, uh, I have a few questions.

Sure. What do you want to know?

What did you just talk about?

Me?

Yeah, you.

With who?

Deborah, sweetheart, you just spent

the fucking night in the can.

Yeah.

Okay, so, where the fuck
did you sleep last night?

- There.
- And what the fuck is that?

Police station.

And who would you be talking to

in a goddamn police station, Deborah?

The police?

Exactly.

So, what did the police say to you,

and what did you say back to them?

Nothing much.

The usual.

What is the fucking "usual"?

I don't know the usual.
What's the fucking usual?

You know... drugs are bad.
Prostitution's illegal.

Shit like that.

And did Stevie and I figure
into this conversation at all?

They asked if I was involved with you.

I said no.

They asked if I was involved
with Stevie, too. I said no.

That part was actually a lie,

obviously.

Obviously.

So, what did they want to
know about Stevie and I?

If I'd seen you commit any crimes.

And drugs.

They think you're selling a lot of drugs.

- Do they?
- Yeah.

And what did you tell them?

That you didn't.

That you hang out at Triple O's.

That you was real clean.
Your clothes was real clean.

You hardly drink any
liquor. You don't do drugs.

And that you always say,

"Don't believe what you
read in the fucking papers."

That was good, right?

You said all that?

Yeah.

It was good, yeah?

Yeah, you done good.

Yeah.

All right, let's head over.

You know how to get there, Stevie, right?

Wow!

Oh.

Oh, my God.

This is amazing!

- Yeah, I thought you might like it.
- Yeah.

A big kitchen there, right?

Fuck.

Wow.

We'll have some furniture
brought in, you know?

Super comfy stuff.

Sure. Oh, my God. It's huge!

Yeah.

Wow.

You know, this was real sweet of you

to think of me, Jimmy.

Don't mention it.

No one's never done nothing
like this for me before.

Come
on, kid. Don't say that.

You're breaking my fucking heart.

No, Jimmy! No, please!

Fuck!

Jimmy!

Don't!

Jimmy!

Please! Please!

Please, Jimmy!

Clean up your fucking mess.

I'm taking a nap.

We got dinner at Connolly's in an hour.

Mr. Flemmi, did you ever
see Whitey Bulger murder anyone?

I don't know. I thought
Boggs had a good game last night.

He hit well.

They're not headed
here. Don't worry about it.

Look great.

Don't touch them skewers
with your fucking...

Honey.

Is the oven on?

Mm-hmm.

Could you at least pretend
to be, uh, nice to them,

play the part?

John, I'm very uncomfortable here, okay?

I mean, we've lived with this for years,

but never in my own house.

They can see you.

I don't give a shit
if they can see me,

- Shh.
- It's my fucking kitchen.

I mean, you have to be
breaking a rule here, no?

You can't be socializing with these guys.

- It's got to be against regulations.
- I am not socializing. I'm...

What do you call drinking
fucking beers and eating steaks?

I'm maintaining my
relationship with my informant.

- Ha!
- That r... Yeah.

That relationship is
the prime reason

I keep getting promoted, which is why

we live in this fancy house
and you drive that brand-new car

- that you so desperately wanted.
- That's how you want to play this, John?

That's how you want to play this, huh?

- You keep your voice down.
- You know... fuck you.

Fuck you, keep my voice down.

This is my kitchen.

It's your kitchen.

Don't even fucking start with that, okay?

I'll be in our room.

I'll... I'll be in our
room with the door locked.

- It's... it's... it's a...
- Shut up.

Yeah, fuck.

Stevie, what's the matter with you?

You're quiet tonight, huh?

You got a problem with people
keeping their mouths shut?

I'm breaking your balls. Hmm?

Do yourself a favor... don't.

So, uh, guys.

Uh, I... I hate to bring this
up at a... at a social dinner,

but there's this detective in Florida

that keeps calling us about Callahan.

Asking questions, and, uh...

Well, h-h-he just
won't leave it alone,

and I have to handle it.

Then handle it.

Well, handle it.

Well... Yeah.

And Morris...

you and I got to have
a little sit-down here.

What the fuck did you
marinate this steak in?

Because it's out of this world.

You're killing me with it.

Now, now, now.

It's a family secret. Hmm?

Come on.

Aw.

That is one of the best goddamn steaks

- I ever had in my life.
- Mm-hmm.

Ever.

I got a knife over here.

Oh, come on. Come on.

What's... what's the...
what's the family...

what's the family's secret recipe?

It's g... it's ground garlic

and a little bit of soy.

- That's it?
- Yeah, that's it. That's it.

I thought it was a family secret.

It's a recipe.

No.

No.

You said to me this is a family secret,

and you gave it up to me, boom.

Just fucking like that.

Don't look to John

'cause he's not gonna fucking help you.

You spill the secret family recipe today,

maybe you fucking spill about me tomorrow.

Is that something, maybe,
that's a possibility?

I was just saying...

You were "just saying"?

"Just saying" gets
people sent to Allenwood.

"Just saying" got me a nine-year stretch

in Leavenworth and Alcatraz.

You understand?

So, "just saying"...

could get you buried real fucking quick.

Look at his fucking face!

Hey! I'm fucking with you.

Hey, I'm fucking with you.

It's a recipe. Couldn't give a shit.

Tastes great. I'm fucking with you.

All right.

You got... well, you... you got me, too.

Listen, I... I want to...
I want to make a toast.

To success.

Just getting started.

Mm. Where's the wife?

She's, uh... she's resting.

She's... she's a little under the weather.

Didn't... didn't I just see her?

Yeah, she was helping.

She, uh... well, sh... sh...
she's not feeling very good.

Oh, gee.

Like a...

You know what? I'll go have a look at her.

Jimmy. Jimmy.

She's sick. She's fi... she's fi...

listen... fine.

Oh.

Hi. I thought you were John.

No, it ain't John.

Come on. Come down and join us.

No, I'm not feeling
well. Thank you, though.

Marianne, you know what you're doing?

You're embarrassing your
husband in front of his friends,

that's what you're doing.

And you know that's what you're doing.

I don't know what John told
you, but I'm feeling ill.

That's all.

Please, no offense.

Well, let's see what you got.

Um...

yeah.

Well...

you don't feel warm.

Got any chills?

'Cause normally, you get the chills

before the flu comes on, you know?

Any soreness there?

What are you feeling
there? You feel something?

'Cause I don't feel any
swollen glands there.

But, you know, me, I
had to learn the hard way

not to take chances
with this kind of thing.

You know what I'm saying?

Poor little thing.

You get some rest.

Wouldn't want nothing to happen to you.

John's a lucky man.

Jimmy?

I'll get it there safe and sound.

You can sleep on it.

I know you will, McIntyre.

Have safe travels, huh?

All right.

Stevie.

Take care of it, John.

Weeksy, give me a call.

Thanks for everything,
Jimmy. We won't forget it.

For me, it's an honor.

The honor's ours.

Thanks, pal.

_

Hope I'm not interrupting.

Special Agent John Connolly.

I know who you are. I've
heard a lot about you.

Oh, good things, I hope.

Listen, little welcome
wagon present for you.

- Big game.
- I'm good.

Are you sure about that?
Clemens is on the mound tonight.

I'm sure about that.

All right.

Work, work, work.

Well, listen, after... after you finish,

come down to
The Bell-In-Hand.

I would like to buy you a pint,

and you can meet some of the other agents.

Do you have a case for me, Agent Connolly?

No, I just came to i... introduce myself.

You know, couple of local
boys moving up the ranks.

Maybe we can help each other along. Yeah.

Bring me cases, that's all the help I need.

All right.

All right, well,
I'll leave you to it, then.

Hey, you know, since you're here.

Yeah?

How come no one has nailed Whitey Bulger?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

That won't work. I wouldn't
do that if I were you.

- Excuse me?
- Now, what's Bulger done?

He's a smalltime hood, but he...
he... he's an invaluable asset.

What's he done?

Everything, evidently.

Drugs, extortion, murder.

I'd heard rumors,

but these other informant
reports make it clear.

And he... here's the thing...

every time we start a
formal investigation, poof!

Goes away. He slips free.

How do you account for that?

I don't know.

Luck of the Irish?

"Luck of the Irish"? That's
what you're going with?

Well, it's...

...it's slandering lies

from his brother Billy's
political opponents.

These fucking assholes from Cambridge,

they will do anything to bring Billy down

because they can't stand

power in the hands of a Mick from Southie.

You don't think Billy's protecting

his older brother, just maybe?

No! No way.

Really?

Well, it seems to me

you'd have to believe
in fucking leprechauns

to think we have the
biggest crime lord in Boston

and be brothers with the
most powerful politician

in the state and them not
be helping each other out.

I grew up with Billy, Southie.

So, I know him, I know that he knows

that it would be crazy

for him to get mixed up in
anything that Jimmy does.

It's, you know... too brazen.

I'll ask you again...

how come no one has done Whitey Bulger?

He seems to be involved
in every crime in the city

and yet the Bureau keeps saying he's clean.

It's only when another
agency has an informant

that I hear maybe
Whitey isn't so squeaky clean.

Well, I hear that he's very careful,

he doesn't use phones...
that kind of stuff, and, uh...

Who did you say these
other informants were?

I didn't.

Listen, from what I hear,

his criminal days are all but over.

His... his partner and
him, they gone legit...

Christ, Connolly, you fucking with me?!

Is Whitey never using phones and careful,

or is Whitey retired?!

I don't...

I mean, I just... I'm not in my office...

these are things that I hear,

I don't know if all of them are true.

Do your job and find out!

I am. I am. I... I wa...

You know that I wouldn't come
here if it wasn't serious,

if there was anywhere else I could turn,

and I know that the last thing you need

is to have Jimmy's business
crossing paths with yours.

Well, your grasp of the
situation is so keen,

it makes me wonder what you're doing here.

This new guy, Wyshak, has
a serious hard-on for Jimmy.

And that can't be good for any of us.

And you're telling me this why?

Maybe you can influence him.

Just make him listen to reason!

I'm not kissing your ass, Billy,

but you are the most
powerful man in the city.

Not that I would, but Wyshak's federal,

and I'm state, and you know that.

But where we come from, I know and you know

that what is written on a piece of paper

is less important than
blood and honor and loyalty.

I'm not asking you to help me.

I'm asking you to help your brother.

That's the same thing now, isn't it?

Billy, Wyshak is asking
questions about you, too.

Oh.

John, you know I have the
utmost respect for you.

Really, I do, which is why I
can tell you with all my heart

that if you ever come into my office again

with a fucked-up idea like that

you'll rue the day you ever
thought of joining the FBI.

Jeannie will show you out.

This report has information

attributed to our prized
informant Whitey Bulger.

And this is the same piece of information

from one of our other informants

dated four weeks earlier.

_

This is information credited to

our supposedly prized
informant James "Whitey" Bulger.

- And the same piece of information
- _

dated six weeks earlier,
different informant.

_

In fact, if you take a
look at Bulger's pile,

you'll find the same situation played out

time and again from other sources.

In fact, you'll find very little
from Bulger that means shit.

Customs officials in Boston
say they have seized a trawler

used to smuggle weapons
to Irish terrorists.

Agents say the trawler ferried
a load of arms and ammunition

- to the Irish coast last week.
- Jesus fucking Christ.

The weapons were intercepted
by the Irish Navy

after they had been
transferred to a smaller ship.

- Officials say they have seized the ship's log and other doc...
- Motherfucker.

Northern Ireland?

Yeah.

Well, how did they know about the ship?

The pilot. Turns out he's
also a snitch for D.E.A.

Customs, too.

What's his name?

- I don't know.
- How do you not know?

I... don't know, John.

All right, well, where is
this guy now, the pilot?

- I want to talk to him.
- Oh, no can do.

What do you mean, "No can do"? Yes, can do.

Sorry, he belongs to D.E.A.

Well... okay.

You ask permission for us to talk to him.

- I did.
- And?

It's not gonna happen, John.

I don't like that guy, though.

He's got a big fucking mouth.

Yeah, take a right here.

Yeah? All right.

All right, I got it.

Weeksy, what's up?

Where is everybody? I thought
it was a fucking party.

Bulger's playing us, Nick.

Making a fool of the Bureau,

hiding behind his informant status

to run roughshod over my city.

Using us to cover for him.

I won't stand for it.

And I am distressed about that,

but from where I sit,

we have bigger priorities to consider.

So, you're telling me to do nothing.

No, not at all.

I'm telling you we can't taint

one of the most successful
RICO prosecutions

in the history of the Bureau

just to get Whitey
Bulger, psychopath or not.

But we have no objection

to your going after
the agents handling him.

Can't you see what's happening?

The vise is closing on us.

Listen to me.

Did you know it was Hampton and Dawson

that hit that national bank on Exeter?

No, and neither did I,
until Whitey Bulger told us.

Whitey didn't tell us that.

Yes, he did.

Nick McVeigh is running speed
to high schools in Newton.

High school kids, for fuck's sake.

Thank God for Whitey Bulger.

- Thank God for Whitey Bulger.
- You hear me?

Whitey introduced dope
to every kid in Southie.

12- and 13-year-old
girls, John.

What about Halloran?

And Callahan, huh?

Douchebags who got what was coming to them.

It's not our fault.

It's not our fault?

- Whose fault is it?
- Not ours.

That's gonna sound great in court.

McGuire is gonna go to Washington.

You know that, right?

And he's gonna bring
all the informant files.

And Wyshak is dead set on
hanging our asses on his wall.

We are fucked, John.

- We are fucked.
- Listen to me.

The Bureau wants results.

We gave them results.

We drove a stake through
the black heart of the Mafia.

Everything else is gonna be a sideshow.

Now we're stuck with Whitey,

and without the Italians,
nobody can rein him in,

and we can't even pull on his chain

because we're in too deep!

And he knows it!

You understand what I'm
saying about a vise?!

I thought I was doing good.

I actually thought I
could make a difference.

We made a difference.

We put the Mafia out of business.

If that ain't good, I don't know what is.

Yeah.

And you know what we're doing now, John?

Digging our own fucking graves.

God damn it.

Marianne!

Marianne, don't do this!

Marianne, are you fucking kidding me?!

This informant
has been a minor player

in the Boston crime syndicate
since he was a teenager.

- So you checked his house?
- Yes.

- And work?
- Mm-hmm.

And he's never missed an
informant meeting before?

None I'm aware of. Yeah?

No, nothing.

- You want to see me?
- Yeah, I want to see you!

McIntyre has vanished

off the face of the fucking Earth.

Which seems to be a common phenomenon

for any informant that
says something incriminating

against Whitey Bulger.

You got nothing to say, Connolly?

You see these gentlemen here?

They're gonna help me get this cocksucker.

If we have to arrest every
lowlife in Boston to do that,

we'll arrest them... every loan shark,

every bookie, every drug dealer.

One of those guys is gonna
make a case against him.

Of all fucking people...

...you.

I'm sorry, Jimmy.

You've always been fucking
weak, John, since we was kids.

What'd you tell them?

I don't want to
fucking die. Oh, God, Jimmy!

I need to know exactly
who you fucking talked to,

and exactly what you said.

A D.E.A. agent by the name of Brown.

I told him everything...

the I.R.A., Cahill, the whole bit!

I know I shouldn't have,
Jimmy, but I had no choice!

Fuck you.

You always have a choice.

You just happened to make
the wrong fucking one.

Look at me.

I said fucking look at me.

I known you a long time.

And for you to fuck me like this...

...fucking hurts.

So I'm gonna fucking bury you right here

where all the other weak
people have been buried.

Jimmy, I'm sorry!

But you'll be dead before
Stevie pulls your teeth,

which is more than you fucking deserve,

- I'll tell you that.
- Jimmy, I'm sorry! Jimmy, I'm sorry!

Jimmy, I'm sorry! Oh, God, Jimmy, I'm...

Take out his fucking teeth.

Bury him next to the whore.

Special Agent John Morris, FBI.

Gerard O'Neill, Boston Globe.

Dick Lehr, same.

Thank you for meeting with us.

I feel like, uh...

Like I should be in a confessional.

It's the right thing to do, John.

Anything I tell you has
to be off the record.

- You understand?
- Of course.

We'll develop our own sources,
corroborate everything.

Where do I start?

- What do you know?
- All of it.

We know.

And you're running it?

We wouldn't be here if we weren't.

_

What?

What is it, Jim?

What the fuck, Jim?

What the fuck? This is bullshit.

Right? This isn't true.

Right?

Kevin, you're gonna hear

and you're gonna fucking read

a lot of bullshit about me...

a lot of nasty things.

And most of it, if not all
of it, is fucking untrue.

It's pure fiction.

You know me.

And you know these people.

You know these fucking people.

They're liars.

They know no fucking code of honor.

How many envelopes of fucking cash

did you deliver to these Feds?

How many cases of wine
for that prick Morris?

Or fucking vacations,

or, uh, fucking money,
money, money, fuck it.

Does that sound like
what an informant does?

Guy ran a sports and numbers racket

out of Heller's Cafe,
parlayed it into loan sharking,

and that into money laundering.

Says he can give us some big fish.

Evidence?

Pictures and sound.

FBI know anything about this?

No, but I can call them if you want.

Absolutely not.

Can you get me into witness protection?

Depends what you have.

I have Whitey Bulger.

So, Whitey Bulger took a
piece of everything you made?

What, are you fucking kidding me?

Everything. Wasn't small either.

Yeah, Whitey introduced drugs to Southie.

White stuff, brown stuff.

Cocaine, heroin, marijuana.

Like I said, I
was a half a block away,

but it was no mistaking what was going on.

I don't know who it was.

Pulled him out of a car and
shot him on the fucking...

right on the ground.

It's everything...

extortion, racketeering, murder.

They got you on all of it.

And I guess they got me, too.

You used me, Jimmy.

It was an alliance, John, nothing more.

I'll call you in a week.

Just let me know what you know.

There's nothing more I'm gonna know.

Ever.

Okay.

_

Gentlemen.

John Connolly?

Yeah, I'm John Connolly.

We have a warrant for your arrest.

Mr. Connolly, step out
of the building, please.

Mm.

Do me a favor, boys, and let
me leave with some... dignity.

Mr. Connolly, step out
of the building, please.

Mr. Connolly, this way.

All right.

You know, this is, uh... uh...

Show me your hands,
Stevie! Show me your hands!

Up in the air! Turn around slow!

The other way. The other way!

Put your hands on your head.

Put your hands on your head!

Mr. Flemmi, now that you look back

at your time with James Bulger,
what is your opinion of him?

Strictly criminal.

Jimmy?

Hey, Billy boy.

Been reading the papers?

Not even a little.

Smart man.

I wouldn't if I was you.

Well, listen...

...you're not gonna see
me for a while, you know?

So, uh...

just look after yourself, you know?

You sure you want to do it this way?

Is there any other way?

Take care, kid.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

- Let's begin this morning with the breaking news...
- FBI! You're under arrest!

The overnight arrest of mob
boss James "Whitey" Bulger.

Anybody who's ever been in Boston

knows who Whitey Bulger is.

Whether or not Bulger
actually made the risky move...

Last night, in Santa Monica,
California, the FBI finally...

He's talking a
bit to federal authorities,

and, Scott, Bulger will
be returned to Boston

to face trial.

_

Sync and corrections by explosiveskull
WEB-DL Resync by GoldenBeard
www.addic7ed.com