All language subtitles for Underbelly.S05E03.The.Loaded.Dog.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

Police have identified the
body parts of a man found

in six bags in the
Hastings River at Wauchope

as those of missing
prisoner Terry Falconer.

You were the dog who
murdered my grandparents.

Take a look at this.

These are the ones who
killed Terry Falconer.

That's Anthony Perish.

My old man used to say, you
gotta do the right thing,

even if it hurts.

The more it hurts,
the righter it is.

Mate, are you sure
this informant of yours

isn't just leading
you by the nose?

He's not a bad suspect
for Falconer himself.

This guy is as sound and
as reliable as they get.

Gary Jubelin.

You dropped me in
it, didn't ya, hey?

You told Perish I
was doggin' him.

Anthony Perish hasn't ever
had an account with Telstra

or any of the private
phone companies.

He's not registered with the
housing commission, Medicare,

or any private health fund.

No super fund has
any record of him.

He's got no outstanding fines,
no traffic infringements.

He's not on the electoral
roll, got no tax

file number, no credit history.

Only someone with
serious badness to hide

would go to this much effort
to cover their tracks.

It's a jungle out there.

It's a jungle out there.

It's a jungle out there.

Gary Jubelin?

Pam Young?

Mm-hm.

No.

No.

No, Sandro.

I can drive myself.

Mm-hm.

OK, I'll see you down there.

There's a murder in Wollongong.

Sounds like a gay bashing.

Sometimes, I wonder
what it's like--

a normal life.

No, you don't.

See you when I
see you, Jubelin.

Good luck catching your ghost.

Be careful.

Almost
a year into the Terry Falconer

murder investigation,
Gary Jubelin

was no closer to finding his
elusive prime suspect, Anthony

John Michael Perish, the ghost.

What Gary didn't
know, the ghost was

studying him and his illustrious
career just as closely.

Know your enemy.

You're a star, mate.

Cop star.

For more than a decade,

Anthony Perish had managed
to fly under the radar,

invisible to police eyes.

Unlike most criminals,
he went to great trouble

to leave no trace
of his passing.

He had never put a
foot wrong, until Terry

Falconer came along.

Clear?

Don't rush me, OK?

For fuck's sake, Frank,
I'm bustin' for the loo.

Are we clear?
- We're clear.

Go on.

Go on, get in, get in.

You, sometimes, I swear--

Shut the door.

All right?

Pippa!

Come here.

What?

Fucking hell.

What?

Look.

Yeah, looks like
a Jatz cracker.

It's a sign.

It's a biscuit.

Rooster and Undies
have been here, eh?

More likely that little
kid from next door.

No, it's a warning, OK?

Now, get inside.

Did you lock the front door.

Jeepers, you--
you're scaring me.

You ought to be scared, eh?

No, you.

You're scaring me.
- Hey, inside.

Go.
Move it.

Let's go.
- Fucking hell.

Get inside.
Inside.

Gary Jubelin's

second major focus was the
man codenamed "Informant X."

He knew Francis Xavier
O'Rourke's evidence would

be crucial if he ever got
the chance to put Anthony

Perish on trial for murder.

You tipped off Rooster, eh?

And why would I do that?

Well, you're in his pocket.

You're up to your fucking
eyeballs in Falconer's murder.

You, Rooster, Undies.

And now, you're trying
to stitch me up over it.

That's a load of
paranoid bullshit, Frank.

Correct.

And I'm just crazy enough
to pull that trigger, huh?

Oh, shit.

What?

Now, you agreed to
come alone, right?

Sorry, Frank, it's procedure.

Listen to me.

Listen.

If I wanted to fit you up,
I would have planted Terry

Falconer's DNA in your house.

Well, maybe you did, huh?

Maybe I just haven't
found it yet.

Well, why am I telling you?

Yeah.

Good point.

You know the best way
to lock this guy up?

Rooster?

Rooster.

Get him bragging about it--

who did what, all the
fucking gruesome details.

Then you record it.

You know who the best
person to do that is?

You want me to
wear a wire, huh?

Against Anthony Perish?

Oh, shit, was I wrong.

Nah, you're not trying
to stitch me up.

You wanna get me killed.
- No, Frank.

Yeah, that's what
this is about, you

lyin' bloody squarehead, huh?

I get blamed for Falconer.

You and Rooster go
on your merry way,

like a couple of
bloody schoolyard

loves, you fucking idiot.

Jesus Christ, eh?

Fucking dreaming.

You like you little
boys, do you?

You get your fucking
head read, mate.

Gary, you can't
hang an entire murder

brief on one tattooed lunatic.

- He'll come around.
- Bullshit.

It's not bullshit.

He's turned his life around.

Just have some faith in
human nature, will you?

I got a ton of faith, mate.

I just don't have unlimited
bucks to back it up.

My strong advice?

Concentrate on
catching Anthony John

Michael Perish
while you've still

got a strike force to do it.

Dickhead alert.

Permission to come aboard.

Oh, shit, is this necessary?

Can't stay here now, can I?

Not secure anymore,
all thanks to you.

Can I have a private word?

I've been thinking.

Yeah, well, don't.

You know, the best means
of defense is attack, right?

The last thing the
Living Deads will expect

is a direct assault
on their clubhouse.

Yeah?

Nah, listen.

We firebomb the pricks.

They come running outside,
we put a few rounds into 'em.

Not to kill, just to
panic 'em, teaching

'em who they're messing with.

I got all the men lined
up, all the hardware.

All I need is my orders.

It'd start a bloody
war, mate, not finish it.

And get the gang
squad up our arse.

No.

And how am I supposed to
do business with 'em after

a stunt like that, eh?

Well, you got a better plan?

Yeah, I do.

Peace summit.

A peace summit with the Deads?

Better work on
your apology, mate.

The keystone of a successful
enforcement relationship

is trust, yeah?

You have to believe
what he tells you.

He has to believe he's
safe in your hands.

The trouble with your Mr.
X is after a lifetime's

bad experiences with
authority figures,

he naturally assumes
you're going to betray him.

And therefore, he'll never
let himself trust you,

unless he knows you trust him.

And so how do we
handle him, Sonya?

You're late.

Were you organizing backup?

I'm on me own, Frank.

I give you my word.

What do you want, huh?

I've already told you
everything I'm gonna tell you.

Then why are you here?

Aren't you gonna
pat me down, huh?

No, I'm not.

If we're going to work together,
I've got to learn to trust you

and vice versa.

Sit down, Frank.

Who says we're
working together, hmm?

Here's what I reckon.

I reckon you got two
voices in your head telling

you two very different things.

Just two?

Happy days.

[ON
SPEAKER] One of 'em's

saying never trust a cop.

And the other one's
saying, he's telling

you to do the right thing.

And I reckon that's
your old man, Frank.

And I reckon that's
why you're here.

I'm already a dead
man talking to you.

Why would I stick my
neck out even further?

Well, what have
you got to lose?

They can't kill you twice.

And you told me you didn't
want to go back to that life.

It doesn't mean I
want to be a dog either.

But you do want to be
a better man, don't you?

Is that what you want, Frank?

Think about your old man, mate.

Oh, every day, I do.

And what was he like?

He was an army
man, drill sergeant.

He was all spit and polish.

He hated bikies, eh?

Thought they were all crims.

Said if he ever caught me on a
Harley, he'd put a bullet in me

head.

I joined me first club before
I had me first naughty.

You good?

You know how it is.

Mm-hm.

How are the kids?

Yeah, they're good.

You OK?

Yeah, I'm good.

Thanks for asking.

I know it's you, Frank.

Babe, what's wrong?

I'll do it.

Well, you're doing
the right thing, mate.

Come here, beautiful.

First, this maniac
beats my godson to a pulp.

The kid'll be lucky
to walk again.

Then he comes after me with
a pair of freaking six guns.

Yeah, and the reason
we're all sitting here

freezing our tits off, the man
wants to apologize, Jasper,

all right?

Look, I had no idea
he was connected.

What can I say?

The kid never said anything.

So it's at least 50% his
fault. Why didn't he speak up?

It's 'cause you were
kicking seven shades

of fucking shit out of him.

Put it down to
collateral damage.

You are a deadset
fuckwit, mate.

We want compensation.

I'll give you 50
cents to fuck off.

Fuck you.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

Not in me car.

A little decorum,
for fuck's sake.

Hey.
- Get off.

Fucking settle
down, you idiots.

Fucking hell.

Christ.

Look, you got the moral
high ground here, Jasper.

No argument.

How much we talking?

A million, cash.

Plus 20 kilos of pills.

Might have to dock
your wages there, digger.

And I heard you supplied the
Bloods with grenade launchers.

We might be able to
rustle up a few more.

Will you take a deposit?

Say, uh, 20 grand?

You wouldn't be thinking
of stiffing us, would ya?

Jasper, mate.

How long have you and I
been doing business for, eh?

Come on.

Forever.

Fuck.

Looks like the Living
Dead are in the market

for a new president, eh?

Any thoughts there, Kenny?

Congratulations, mate.

Couldn't have
picked a better man.

Thanks, mate.

Yeah, congratulations,
Mr. president.

Now, piss off.

And don't forget who
done you this good turn.

Man, right in the heart.

No blood, no mess.

Beautiful.

I owe you, Rooster.

Yeah?

You think?

You're fucking
joking me, right?

I'd be OK if you
wear a baggy shirt.

Mate, I got a boombox
smaller than that thing.

I'm getting a beer, drown me
sorrows, you bloody amateurs.

I'm going straight back
to the tech department

after this, find the
boss, rip his head

off, and shit down his neck.

You got my word we'll
do better, Frank.

Say you do, right?

Then what's me excuse for
lobbing on Rooster's doorstep?

Well, the thing is we
can't tell you what to say.

That's entrapment.

Just gets fucking
better, doesn't it, hey?

Frank, have you been summonsed
to appear at the new inquest

into the Perish grandparents?

Me?

No.

Bit of an oversight.

Yeah.

Could work.

Cops.

Had to be.

Tink'd never tell.

It's not in his--

whatcha-ma-call-it-- DNA.

Besides, he knows what would
happen to him if he did.

I don't know.

Have you told Rooster?

Nope.

Don't.

No need upsetting him
for no good reason.

Yeah, and what
if he finds out we

knew, but never said nothing?

The main LD's in the bum bag.

What if Undies asks
what's in it, eh?

Well, just tell him bums.

That's funny, eh?

Dark horse.
Funny.

Hey?

First backup's in your
phone battery compartment.

For fuck's sake, don't drop it.

First backup?

The second backup's in your
smokes, behind the foil, see?

Right.

Don't forget and
chuck the pack away.

Righto.

That's it.

What if he gets onto me?

Where's my backup, huh?

There isn't any, Frank.

You're on your own.

Oh, right.

You really know how
to make a bloke feel

appreciated, Jubes, hey?

Mr. Positive.

Hey?

We all set?

Recording.

Right, this is Detective
Sergeant Gary Jubelin

and Francis Xavier O'Rourke.

The time is 3:19 PM,
the date, the 30/11/02.

This is the commencement
of an operation

for Strike Force Tuno.

In a short time,
you will be speaking

to people who may be involved
in criminal activities.

You may be asked questions.

You may need to give
appropriate responses.

I've also been
authorized to provide you

with the following inducement--

nothing you say or do
can be used against you

in any court in this state.

Do you understand that, Frank?

I heard a whisper that
you'd been talking to Tuno.

Talking to tuna?

What are you--

It's the task
force that's looking

after the Falconer thing.

Now, is that true, Tink?

Yeah.

Yeah, you bet I've been
talking to cops, eh?

Check this out.

Yeah, I've been summonsed.

The new inquest, your
grandpa's murder.

I mean, shit, why do they
want to hear from me, huh?

So where's Rooster?

He around?

So this-- this is why
the cops came round?

Serving you with a summons?

Yeah.

That's why I need
to see him, mate.

I want to know how to play
it and what to do, right?

Call him, will ya?
- Yeah.

Go on, call him now.

Yeah, I'll fucking call him.

Good.

See them photo-fits
in the paper?

It looks like Rooster and me.

I never read papers.

There's too much news, eh?

Someone's been talking.

What, are you saying I dogged?

When have I ever dogged,
you paranoid fuck, hey?

Fucking hell.
- I'll call him later.

Oh, now, you're
pulling my dick.

Ring the right fucking
number, dude, hey?

Hey, darl, have you got
the code for star pickets?

I'll be back in a sec.

Take that.

04--

Don't take the fucking code
sheet off the fucking wall.

OK, um-- I'll talk to him, OK?

Righto.

Make sure you do, eh?

Take it easy, Undies, eh?

Have a good day, mate.

Yeah.

0491570-- something,
something, something.

I didn't get it, eh?

And this is
Anthony's number, yeah?

Yeah.

Didn't get the
last three digits?

Well, slap my wrist.

Stick a finger up
me arse if you want.

I did get the make and model
the dog and bone though, yeah?

Smart piece of work, mate.

Well done.

Thanks, Gary.

Am I happy?

Well, a Nokia 3315 plus
the first seven digits

of the number.

I'm optimistic you'll be happy.

OK.

And so we need warrants
for local phone tower dumps

for that period, yeah?

Say, an hour either way.

You realize a single tower
dump could cost $1,000 or more?

All right, well, get it done.

You can't hide forever, pal.

Want me to help?

It's a job for experts.

You see, every mobile phone has
its own electronic signature.

It's just a matter
of cross-checking

the right make and model
with the partial number.

I know, Kevin.
I know.

When you find it, can you
call Gary Jubelin ASAP?

Only if you give
me his number.

Camille?

Kevin?

You ID'd the number.

Of course I did.

Am I not a professional?

Now, all you have to do is
get a warrant to pull it off.

I'll call Gary J immediately.

Wasn't expecting
you this week.

Just making sure you're
putting in the work.

Look, how long do I have
to stay in this bloody dump?

Long as I say so, hey?

Hello?

Sergeant Jubelin?

Technical branch.

We've identified the number.

Anthony Perish's mobile number?

Fuck!

What's this in aid of?

It's a carrot cake.

And we're all just stopping
work to have cake now, are we?

It's for your
birthday, Jubelin.

Happy birthday, Gaz.

Yes, Kevin?

There's been a
slight mix-up, mate.

Fuck!

Have you got any idea
how hard everyone's

been working to do this?

You had one job to do--

one job.

Get out of here before I--

It would be over a year

before Gary Jubelin got another
chance to bring down his prey.

You are too cranky.

I'm not cranky.

You are.

You're too cranky.

I'm not.

Really, I'm not.

Gary.

Al right.

I'm very bloody cranky.

My fat aunt could

have figured out his number
from what I told you, eh?

Yeah, it's a little
more complex than that,

the whole warrant thing.

The Listening Devices
Act's a prick.

What are you driving at?

I need you to put
the wire back on.

Fuck me, Gary.

Every time I front them
dudes, I risk me life.

Don't you get that?

Or you just don't give a fuck?

Huh?

Huh?

Hey, I know what they're
capable of, all right?

I saw Terry
Falconer's body parts.

That's why it's imperative
we put him away.

And your role in
this is vital, Frank.

You're the only
one who can do it.

It's the right thing to do.

You know it.

You mention my old man again,
I'll fucking chop you up.

It's 'cause
you left the pen lid off,

it's not working anymore.

I haven't had a
chance to call him ye.

Bullshit, Undies.

Lazy cowboy.

Give us his number.

I'll call him.

If I gave you his number,
he wouldn't be happy.

Leave the summons with
me and I'll call him, OK?

Just leave me to fucking
eat my hummus in peace.

There's another thing.

You know that money for me boat?

I wanna pay him back.

It's only a couple of grand.

Don't stress out about it.

Oh, I know the
way he works, right?

I want to pay back every cent.

You tell him that, OK?

OK.

So one more thing.

You're giving me a
fucking headache, Tink.

Mate, it's important, right?

What?

Now, you know that document?

What document?

This one?

No.

The document you and
Rooster came round

and showed me, right?

The one that said Falconer
had been dogging to the jacks.

I just remembered something.

What?

I handled it.

You know what I'm saying?

It's got me fingerprints on it.

Tink, there's probably
a hundred fingerprints

on that fucking document.

What if these
Tuna dudes decide

I'm suspect number one
'cause of me record,

and then they link me to you?
- Tink--

That's why I've
gotta talk to Rooster.

I gotta bloody clear
this up, right?

Tink, shut up, all right?

You just need to relax.

I will-- I will call him and
set up a meeting, all right?

But you just need
to relax, all right?

'Cause nobody knows
that we did it.

Nobody knows it was us
who killed the prick.

Nobody knows it was
us who killed the prick.

Yeah?

- You sure that's what he said?
- Yeah.

What do you say, boys?
Huh?

Huh?

Hey?

- Sensational.
- Eh?

Eh?

Gold star, mate.

Gold, gold.

I fucking-- I
deserve a beer, eh?

Six bloody beers.

A hundred bloody beers.

Bring 'em on!

It's a forklift or something.

We sent it off-site
to get it enhanced.

They've sent it on to some
experts in London, but--

What about the backups?

Same, only worse.

Better luck next time.

We can't take a fucking trick.

Who's gonna tell
Francis Xavier?

Fuck!

So what, you want me to
go back, try again, huh?

That'd be good.

Fuck!

We'd also like you to make
a full statement, Frank.

Put down on paper
everything you've told us--

names, dates, details.

Your full criminal history.
- What?

No.
No way.

Look, it's just a
way of formalising--

I make a statement,
the whole world knows

I've dogged me mates, right?

No.

They're not your mates.

You fucking idiots don't
understand a thing, right?

Now, get out!

Go on, get out.

Wait up, idiot.

Fuckin'-- take this
bastard, right?

I was gonna give
it to you anyway.

What the fuck is this, Frank?

Haven't you ever seen
a pipe bomb before, hmm?

Had it rigged to protect
me front door, yeah?

They usually make 'em
out of galvanised pipe,

but this one's PVC,
so don't bump it.

Now, get out of my
face, you bloody idiots,

and take that piece
of junk with you.

Go on.

Get.

Watch your step.

I'll call the bomb squad.

We can't risk bringing
them here and exposing Frank.

Tell 'em we'll meet
them in a park.

Hey.

Youse blokes want a Coke?

No thanks.

No?

We get the bomb there how?

Stick it in the boot and
drive very fucking carefully.

Mum wanted me to be a dentist.

Brownie.

Sorry, Pippa.

Transporting an IED
in the boot of a car?

Didn't you idiots do
any explosives training?

Anthony Perish

had a habit of using people.

Buy them, bully them,
manipulate them.

As long as they did exactly
what he wanted, nobody got hurt.

Decker was handy.

He had his uses, but
he was accident-prone

and he had to be punished
for past mistakes.

That's one reason
Anthony kept him

a virtual prisoner at
his Girvan property

for three lonely months.

And since he was sitting up
there, cooling his heels,

Anthony put him to work
installing a defense system.

After all, there was
a lot to protect.

A single cookup from
this one drug lab

could produce several million
dollars worth of amphetamines.

Eat up, champ.

It'll get cold.

Well, why are you all
eating pizza and I'm not?

I brung you a special
treat, that's why.

Don't you like it?

It smells funny.

What are you talking about?

It's the best chicken
and chips on the coast.

It was lovely the other
night when we had it,

wasn't it, Muzzy?
- Yeah.

Uh, Monday?

It was scrumptious.

Monday?

That's a-- that's a week ago.

Fair enough.

Cheers.

Woo.

Look out teeth,
look out gums, eh?

Oh, come on.

Where are you going?

By the way, cops have posted
a reward for that little

shootup of yours at JB's.

A hundred grand.

I hope you haven't
been big-noting

yourself to your bogan mates.

Security's my
middle name, Rooster.

Glad to hear it.

Eat up.

It's rude to leave
food on your plate.

There's a story going

around that when Anthony
Perish was a teenager,

he shot 200 cats.

It's probably apocryphal.

I mean, who was counting?

But where there's smoke--

Did the
Gillespies say why

they were getting rid of it?

Well, see, they're going back
to England and mom's allergic.

You're my last resort.

And what about the RSPCA?

I can't believe you said that.

Hello?

Sweetie, if I wanted a dog,
I would have got a proper dog,

all right?

Not a white, fluffy dog.

Who is it?

Some guy called Frank
says his life's in danger.

What's the matter?

Is that your son just now?

No.

It's the guy who cleans my guns.

He sounds all right, eh?

What do you want, Frank?

This'd be what you cops call
an induced statement, yeah?

[ON
PHONE] We'd never

use it to bring charges
against you, unless of course,

you lie to me.

Then they'd want to
throw the book at you.

Let's be clear, Gary.

I'm not signing it, all right?

It'd just be for you.

I can't risk word
getting back to our mate.

You know what I'm saying?

And I need my bloody head
read, that's for sure.

Later.

Oh, my giddy aunt.

Hey?

Hey, Rooster, you fucker.

Hey!

How'd you know where I
was, you fucking bastard?

Come on.

Come and get me, you bastard.

Hey?

You fucker.

Hey.

Come on, Rooster.

I'm not afraid of you.

He was here a minute ago.

What have you done with him?

Frank, you're not well.

Come back to the hospital.

Fuck off.

Babe, don't do this to me.

Frankie.

You need blood.

You need surgery.

You need antibiotics.

We can protect you from Rooster.

No one can protect
me from the Rooster.

He's everywhere.

It
was an accident.

Rooster had nothing
to do with it.

Frank, get in the fucking car.

Frankie.

Soldier, get in the car, mate.

Brownie, grab his arm.

Gary decided

a remote, secluded beach house
was the best place to debrief

Frank O'Rourke--
far away from girls,

and booze, dope,
and helicopters.

So Undies picked
you up and took

you to a restaurant in Newtown.

That's where you
met Anthony Perish.

Yeah, well, it
sounds right, yeah.

What, it sounds
right or is it right?

Right-right, captain, eh?

Was this October 16th or 17th?

Uh, I give up, eh?

I can't remember.

Well, what day
of the week was it?

Uh, Pippa wasn't
working that night.

Could have been a Wednesday, eh?

Yeah, Wednesday.

Wednesday was the 17th.

What was the name
of the restaurant?

How am I supposed
to remember that?

Well, try concentrating.

Where was it?

Was it King Street?

Oh, shit.

Look, we've been over
this before, Frank.

All right, what sort
of cuisine was it?

Was it Asian?

Was it Italian?

Was it Martian?
Did you like it?

Could you eat it?
Did you enjoy it?

Gary, how would
I know, mate, hey?

All I remember is I
didn't want to be there

and I was shitting bricks.

What does it matter?

It matters, Frank.

All right?

We have to dot every I,
get every detail correct,

or the defense is
going to rip us apart.

That's assuming we get to court.

Court?

I never agreed to no court.

I'm not going nowhere near
no fucking bloody court.

All right, all right, relax.

All right, just think.

Was the-- was the
restaurant, was it flash,

was it downmarket?

Think, Frank.

It was flash.

Flash, yeah.

OK, I've got the
Newtown restaurants.

Jesus, there are
hundreds, so get comfy.

This could take a while.

From the top,
Alberto's Pizzeria?

Does it ring any bells, Frank?

Anise.

Booze.

Rooster.

Making good
progress, champion.

You'll be asking for a pay rise.

Any wage at all
would be a bonus.

Yeah, nah, I'm gonna miss you.

What do you mean?

You can't hang around up here
enjoying yourself forever, hey?

So you're cool
if I just leave?

Yeah, you done
a good job, mate.

Useless till he signs
it, if he signs it.

Well, you can use it as a
scribble pad if he doesn't.

Having said that, it's
quite an achievement.

Well done him and you, Gary.

He will sign, yes?

Well, it's his better nature
fighting his criminal instinct.

But yeah, I think he will.

I'm afraid there's not
very much in the budget

to resettle him.

Well, how much
is not very much?

Two grand?

Pull the other one.

That is a disgrace.

We can't go back
to him with that.

Don't have much choice, do we?

Short of robbing a bank.

What if we chipped
in ourselves?

If I sign, I'm dead, yeah?

Well, if you don't sign,
you don't get relocated.

You're dead anyway.

Mm.

Only closer to home.

What about the relocation money?

Just another lie, was it, huh?

It's a bank statement.

Account's in your name.

Your new name.

This six grand?

For me?

It's not a lot, mate.

It's all we could do.

I can't believe you're
for real sometimes.

But you've got to sign
and date every page of that.

And you gotta stand by it.

Which means what?

You know what it means, Frank.

It means you gotta look Rooster
in the eye in court one day

and you've got to tell
the jury what happened.

That's what it means.

Might like to
learn a trade, eh?

Something with me hands.

You any good with
your hands, hey?

No, I'm not, Frank.

Yeah, I wouldn't think so.

Give me that pen.

Francis Xavier

O'Rourke is a fictional name.

The man himself is real, but
his true identity cannot be

revealed by order of the court.

He was relocated, instructed
to keep his head down, and wait

for the day Tuno
officers would call

on him to testify against
Anthony John Michael Perish.

You are not so cranky today.

How can you tell?

I cannot hear
your teeth grinding.

Things going better at work?

Yep.

And at home?

Got a dog.

He likes cheese.

Cheese is good, in moderation.

Now, fei chang
fang, monkey style.

It's a jungle out there.

It's a jungle out there.

It's a jungle out there.