All language subtitles for Righteous Kill.

One

between the eyes!

Two

between the eyes.

– Out!
– What?

– She was safe.
– She was out.

She landed right there.
She's safe.

Aw, come on.

That's enough.
I don't want to hear another word.

– You're gone!
– Yeah, I'm gone.

My grandmother used to take me
to Washington Square Park...

to watch Bobby Fischer
play 10 games at the same time.

Queen me.

He was five-six moves ahead
on each table.

Anyway, he became
the world champ, didn't he?

Then he lost his fucking mind.

He became a raving paranoid.

Being attacked
from all directions,

he couldn't see
what was in front of him.

Mate. Mate!

My name is David Fisk,

Detective First Grade.

I've been a cop in the NYPD
for over 30 years.

In that time...

I've killed 14 people.

Run that by me
one more time.

I've killed 14 people.

He's nuts.

When did
these things start?

How did they start?

Maybe this one started
with a guy named Charles Randall.

Randall was a child killer.

He killed his girlfriend's daughter

about four years ago.

Fuck you, damn asshole.

He was tried
for the crime,

but was acquitted
by a jury of his peers.

My partner and I
found this unacceptable.

My partner is a good man.

Are you really
gonna do this thing?

Do what?

You're going to
take down Randall

for a homicide
he didn't commit.

What am I gonna do?

You're my partner.

– You're my role model.
– Right.

What am I gonna do
without a role model?

We didn't have
this conversation.

What conversation?

It got done.

Randall lost his freedom

for the crime he didn't commit.

I lost my faith.

– I'm gonna go.
– Okay.

You can take this
as a confession if you want.

You can take this
as a confession if you want.

Whatever.

A few weeks ago
things heated up.

What do we got on him, Turk?

Marcus Smith, AKA Spider...
big big dope deals,

murders, extortion,
lots of nice things.

He converted
this old abandoned bank

into Club 404 of Harlem.

Maybe when he sees us
he'll confess.

What, you don't believe
in miracles?

When you pick up a check
one day...

one day,
then I'll believe in miracles.

– Let's go. I'm buying.
– Yeah, that's a miracle I want to see.

♪ We fly high, no lie ♪

♪ You hear that?
You know this, balling ♪

♪ Foreign rides outside ♪

♪ It's like showbiz,
we in the building ♪

♪ We stay fly, no lie... ♪

This is where he launders
his money.

Oh, yeah,
cleaning green green green.

He's all business.

I gotta take a leak.

Oh, I'll just be a sec.

I'm not peeking.

No problem.

– You guys are so lucky.
– Why is that?

No line to the bathroom and...

you get to pee standing up.

Unzip, psss, zip.

Badda boom badda bing,
you're out of here.

Yeah, the big guy really outdid himself
on this thing.

You want a bump?

Where did you get that from?

Spider. Supremo.

Not bad.

Not bad?
What the fuck were you looking for?

Come on, Turk,

you pulled my hair.

Gee, my little sister used to
pull my hair harder than that.

Whatever.

I gotta go.

– Where the fuck are you going?
– I'm tired.

You're tired?
It's America, you whiny bitch.

Why don't you fucking get in the cab
and do some honest work?

Yeah, she's on her way.
She can't wait to see you.

Rambo the Skateboard Pimp
was my 10th kill.

Think of me as a street-sweeper.

I cleaned up this worthless
piece of shit

and left an obituary of sorts.
It rhymes.

Rooster, we gotta find out
who did this.

Give him a medal.

Hey, Rambo, you see
who did this?

He ain't talking, eh?

Real name Robert Brady.

Bobby Brady. Damn shame.

What are you thinking?
Marcia? Greg?

You guys messing up
my crime scene again?

You don't know
who Bobby Brady is?

Yeah, we met about an hour ago.

– It looks like close range.
– From the stippling around the wound

I'd say two to three feet away.

We'll be fishing fragments
out of his brains.

– What?
– No, I just got that...

"Marcia? Greg?"
That's a good one, Rooster.

Well, that was quick.

Just trying to keep pace with you.

"He trades in sin,
distributes flesh.

He picks the fruit
when it is fresh.

Now someone else
must slap his whore.

His heart has stopped.
He breathes no more."

What do you want to do
about this?

I say let's make the best of it,

canvass the hookers.
Maybe we'll meet one you like.

Please. I got all I can handle
from you-know-who.

No shit?

She's got my sperm level so low
I gotta sit down to take a piss.

Oh, thanks for that picture.

Hey, what can I tell you?

How can I help you, gentlemen?

We'd like to talk to you
about your boss.

He's upstairs.

No, your other boss.

Rambo.

He is asshole.

Why "he is asshole"?

Follow me, please.

You know anybody
who'd want to kill him?

Me.

Anyone else?

Why? He's dead?

Hey, listen, you want to smarten up
and help us out

or am I gonna have to call
somebody at ICE

and have you on the next plane
to kielbasa-land?

Go ahead.

I am American citizen.

Yeah.

Lick my balls anytime.

What?

Call us anytime, you know,

if you hear something, anything.

I think we're looking
for a guy named Sam the Butcher.

Who?

Nah, he's kidding around.
But seriously, Lieutenant,

how far do you want us to go
with this Rambo murder?

I don't know, I was thinking maybe
you could investigate it a bit more,

figure out who did it,
try to put him in jail.

That is, if it doesn't get in the way
of your shuffleboard lessons.

Yeah, no problem.

We're also working this dealer Spider
who's tied to these two stiffs

we found on Fresh Kills.

If we can nail him, who knows
how far up the ladder it will lead?

So what about it?

I popped this lawyer
with an ounce of blow.

She practically shoved it up my nose.
I got her to flip on him.

Lucky fuck, eh?

She scored it from him directly?

– Yeah, she did.
– Good.

Okay, well, get what you can out of her
and kick her loose.

I hate trying to prosecute
fucking lawyers.

– This isn't Spider's club.
– The back way in.

Yeah, it's an abandoned
linen factory, Jessica.

I guess I'm not your average...

what do you call it?

– Rat?
– Stoolie?

Thanks.

I mean, I think usually
it's some poor African-American kid

or a junkie or a prostitute.

Well, normally 200-grand-a-year
corporate lawyers

are much smarter than your average
African-American junkie whore...

normally, but sometimes
they only think they are.

It's all set
on this end.

Are you guys sure
it's safe in there?

You tell your girlfriend
to grow a pair and let's go.

What do you say, Counsel?
Are you ready to do this thing?

Yeah, let's get it over with.

Okay, remember what we said?
You go in there,

you wait for him to ask you
for what you need, right?

And then you don't come back here
with less than four ounces.

– Four ounces?
– Yeah.

Isn't that a lot? I, like, buy a couple
of balls at the club, that's it.

You just say you're going skiing and
you need a week's worth of fresh powder.

Yeah, you tell him you're going
on vacation.

I do this thing
and my record's wiped clean?

As a whistle.

No one at my law firm will know
that I got busted, right?

It never happened.

Look, Counsel, we all know you
better than this.

You just do this, you stop
shoving that shit up your nose,

you go home, you get married,
you have kids,

you never come back here,
and that's that.

Yeah.

Everybody's in position.

Okay, we're going.
Yes, sir.

Let's push the signal
back 50%.

Hey, Jessica.

Break a leg.

It's two flights down.

The door's on the left.
Ring the bell.

Hey, Stubby, why don't you
go and escort our company up here?

Go on, fat boy.

Get it on.

– Good afternoon.
– Hey, Spider.

– I'll be downstairs.
– All right.

– How are you?
– All right, baby,

just checking out this wizard shit
before I let my kids watch it.

– You seen this?
– No.

The guy is a stone dealer.
I let my little ones watch this...

they'll all turn out junkies.
You know what I'm saying?

He's got a point.

– You remember Underdog?
– What about him?

That fucking dog spawned
a generation of junkies.

So you converted the bank
into a club and a recording studio?

– Yeah. You like it?
– Yeah.

What are you talking about?

What did Underdog do
all the time?

He was always shining shoes

and whenever Sweet Polly Purebred
would call out to him,

his dog ears would pick it up
and he'd rescue her.

Yeah, but what did he do
when he needed his super strength?

He'd go to his ring, remember?

Pull out a pill, pop it.

Holy shit, you're right.
He was a little fucking speed freak.

So what's the business?

How about a QP?
You're good for a QP.

The fuck you want with QP?

I'm going skiing with friends,

a lot of friends.

– Where?
– Aspen, Colorado.

Shit. I'm sure you can
score one in Aspen.

Not your primo brand.

You ski?

Sure. My whole life.

Come on, I don't have all day.

Why don't you put down your jacket,
stay a little while?

What do you think?

Actually,
I've got to run.

I have a major IPO
closing in an hour, so...

You know, stress will kill you.
You gotta chill out.

I'm as chill as I get.

What do you want to do?

You know, every once in a while...

one of you Upper East Side bitches
gets popped,

tries to to roll over
on a nigga like me.

You're scared now.

Looks like the cavalry
come to rescue you.

Can I help you, gentlemen?

Yeah, let us in, Spider.

I'm sorry, there's no one here
by that name.

– Let us in.
– We only want to talk to you.

See, I know how to look
and I know where to look.

Come to papa.

It always hurts the first time.

You all right?

Why wouldn't she be all right?
We're watching TV.

How the fuck is she gonna get hurt
watching TV?

She could have seen or heard
something that scared her.

– Like what?
– Like some big fucking mutt

shooting his bug fat
fucking mouth off.

Wasn't nobody here fitting that description
till a minute ago.

I'm gonna show you ugly,
you fucking mother...

– We've said enough.
– Oh, you finna bring your wife up in here?

That's it. That's it.
Let's go. It's okay.

– You okay?
– Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay.

You want your wire back?

Firearm!

No, Stubby, no!

Get down.
Get the fuck down!

Come on.

The fat one's dead.

Well, that went well.

Oh, shit, you're bleeding.

3-4 squad, Central.
11-41, request ambulance.

I need EMS. Subject shot,
184th and St. Nicholas.

Really, I tried my best.

You're doing just fine, Counsel.
You're doing just fine. Just relax.

Hey, guys, if you ever
need a lawyer...

Yeah, okay.

You bet.

In good old days
we used to

let the perp bleed out
and call off the ambulance.

– Calm calm calm.
– Fucking lowlife.

You made your point.
You made your point.

Tough little bitch, ain't you,
kicking a man while he's handcuffed?

Shut the fuck up,
you piece of shit.

You think I won't blow
your fucking head off?

I wouldn't think twice
about it.

I'd go in there,
get the fat boy's gun,

come back here
and put two between your eyes.

Where's EMS?

This thing was a clusterfuck
to end all clusterfucks.

You got nothing.

How about felony murder?

No drugs, right?
So no predicate felony,

no conspiracy,
no nothing.

No felony. No felony.
I can't believe this.

No felony.
How do you spell felony?

Homicide, racketeering, drugs...
I mean, what are we talking about?

Hey, you're lucky
that white girl didn't die.

IAB is gonna interview
both of you

and do a preliminary report
over the next couple of weeks.

Now off the record
you actually didn't violate procedure

because the victim had a firearm
aimed at you,

so if you stick together
you should make it through this.

You'd better get
your story straight too,

'cause I'm not going back to Far Rockaway
because you two fucked up.

And you're gonna spend some couch time
with the rubber-gun squad.

And you'd better take this shrink seriously
or you'll be off active duty.

That fucking piece of shit
just walks.

Knock it off, Turk.

Relax, partner.
He's gonna get his.

Gentlemen, your questions.

– Who made the decision to enter?
– I did.

– Whose decision was it to enter?
– Mine.

Did you immediately identify yourselves
as police officers?

– Yes, we did.
– Did you immediately identify yourselves?

The informant's position
was becoming untenable.

– We were afraid she was in danger.
– Turns out you were right.

– No fucking kidding, nine-to-fiver.
– Excuse me, Detective?

Are you finished
with my client?

– They're like Lennon and McCartney.
– Not an inch of daylight between them.

What do you think?

Nothing there.

They endangered the informant.
We can't make them wrong on that.

They saw a gun, they reacted.

They beat the fuck
out of the suspect,

but he's not filing charges.

Let's see what the shrink says.

So what are we gonna
do now, Doc?

Are we gonna find out
if I'm sane enough

to carry a gun,
chase bad guys?

Okay, why did you become a cop?

Well, it was New Year's Eve.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I didn't have the same opportunities
you had, Dr. Prosky.

Where I come from
it was either a gun and a badge

or a hard hat and a hammer.

How do you feel
when you fire your weapon?

It's like Dirty Harry said...
"There's nothing wrong

with a little shooting as long as
the right people get shot."

And when the wrong people
get shot?

It sucks, but I'd rather be in it
that out of it.

There's nothing worse
than being stuck on a bench.

How do you feel when you see
innocent people get killed?

You know...

I sort of get numb to it.

Here.

I want you to take this.

Use it to jot down your thoughts,
your questions,

anything you may have noticed
about yourself,

whatever.

I won't ask for it.

Just for you.

I want you to try it.

Sounds like fun.

Harder.

Go, Turk, go!

You got third.
Go go!

Yeah!
Look at that.

You own it. You own it.

No matter what they say
about you,

you're tremendous!

Go go, Turk, go!

Safe.
You dropped the ball.

– A fucking cheap shot, man.
– Get away from the bag.

– Or what? Or what? Or what?
– Watch the bag.

The NYPD is bubbling
with frustration,

hostility and testosterone,

ready to erupt
at any moment.

Think of me
as the release valve.

One flick of the trigger
and the pressure goes down.

You know why
you join the force?

To get respect.

Most people respect the badge.

Everybody respects the gun.

Hey, Riley, I was talking to JD...

you guys caught a stiff named
Phillip Trager, a gun-runner?

Oh, yeah, a real piece of shit.

– How did that go down?
– I don't know.

Somebody gave him a taste
of his own medicine, I guess,

walked right into his apartment,
killed him with one of his own guns.

Did the shooter leave a note
or anything?

Yeah, actually,
the shooter left a poem.

He did?
No shit.

Yeah. Hey, Simon,

you remember that poem
from the Trager case?

What are you doing, man?

Turk's asking about it.

What the hell are you doing?

¿ Qué mierda 'tas haciendo ahí, papá?

No le digas mierda a eso loco.

Cálmate. He wants to hear
about the poem.

"Merchant of thieving class,

I slit his throat
and capped his ass.

I took his gun, I took his...

I took his life, I took his gun,
But too bad he's not the only one."

That's how it goes,
something like that.

It's not iambic pentameter,
but it rhymes.

– Rooster.
– Yo.

We're looking for the same guy.

He knocked off a pimp named Rambo
a few weeks ago. When was yours?

Last week. We're running ours with the ATF
because of the guns.

We're back in business on the Rambo case.
Looks like the same guy knocked off

– a gun dealer on the three-three last week.
– No shit.

– What do you mean? That's our case.
– That's our case. You're taking our case.

Seniority, guys.
Tag along, you'll learn something.

Oh, tell me the guy's name
is Greg Brady.

Please. It is, isn't it?

Oh, somebody's knocking off
the Brady Bunch.

Gotta be the Partridge Family.

Trager,
a gun-runner bites the dust...

number 11.

The bullet matched the.45
in Trager's apartment.

That was no surprise.
So I ran it through ATF.

It's one of a batch of six
that was stolen from a gun shop

– in Virginia last month.
– Yeah, probably by Trager.

That's what they think.
He matches the description they have.

It still doesn't help us find the guy.
It just helps us tie him to the victims,

which he's already doing
with his little fucking poems.

Excuse me. Hello.

Hey, Turk, don't forget
we got a court date later.

So...

I heard he kicked the shit
out of that dealer you guys took down.

Spider.

So?

Did he?

Yeah, he got him
down on the ground.

The guy was handcuffed.

And he just started
kicking him in the gut.

And then

he gets down on the guy's chest

and he really starts smacking him

hard in the face over and over

and screaming at the top
of his lungs,

"I'm gonna break
your fucking face,

you little bitch!"

Then his eyes really started
to fill up.

I mean, they get dark...

you know how he gets
the sort of rage in him.

I thought he was gonna
kill this guy.

Really?

You're a bad little girl.

Hmm?

– I got work to do.
– You bet.

Counselor,
my hands are tied here.

Without a secure
chain of custody,

any evidence obtained
after the initial search

– must be excluded.
– You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Therefore I am forced
to grant defense

motion to dismiss
all charges

of rape and assault
against Mr. Van Luytens.

– Your Honor.
You think I want this guy

going anywhere
near my daughter,

or anyone's daughter
for that matter?

You messed up.
I am unleashing your client

unto the world.
I'm sure we'll all be

back here again very soon.

Look at him.
Look at this motherfucker.

Hey, it's gonna come back to you, mutt.
You're gonna get it.

– When you walk outside watch your back.
– Easy, Turk.

Order in my court.

– Okay, mutt? You fucking mutt.
– Not here, not now.

Not here, not now.
Will you get him out of here

before somebody passes a sentence
on him you can't appeal?

Order!

– You know what I mean? Go go.
– Order, Detective.

Dr. Prosky suggested
that I free-associate.

So here I go.

You know what I think about
when I pull a trigger?

I think about the Infield Fly Rule.

I love that fucking rule.
It assumes the worst in everybody.

It says, "Sorry, batter, you're a schmuck
for popping up with runners on.

And you, stupid-ass infielder,
you don't get to cheat

and drop the ball just because
you caught a break."

My favorite part...
the batter's out

but the runners advance
at their own risk.

Well, isn't this
a pleasant surprise?

That's the way
life should be.

You can be a motherfucker
at your own risk.

Or not.
Van Luytens... one less rapist.

Who's gonna miss him?
Nobody.

Number 12 and counting.

Whoa whoa, hot coffee.

– Good morning, Detective Riley.
– Hey, good morning.

– Door on your left.
– Any signs of forced entry?

Doesn't look like it.
Detective Perez is in there.

He's in there already?
All right.

– Hey, how about those Mets last night?
– Yeah, how about 'em?

Hey, Teddy, Teddy, come here,
check this out.

Wow.

Fuck.

– Oh my God.
– That's big.

And powerful.

– What, a plasma screen?
– LCD.

– That's plasma.
– No, it's got to be LCD.

It wouldn't be that big.
– Hey, guys, guys.

He was shot at close range,
dropped right here.

The pussy doesn't look like he put up
much of a fight, does he, Karen?

Nothing to indicate that

in terms of struggle.
No forced entry, cuts, bruises.

Hey, nobody wants to hear
about your private life, Officer Corelli.

That's detective to you,
Officer Needledick.

– Ooh.
Ouch.

– Looks like it's our guy again.
– Who did you get this time?

This is Jonathan Van Luytens.

He owns a couple
of car dealerships.

– Oh, shit.
– He was up on rape charges,

but they got tossed out
last week.

Look at this.

"A man devoid of all respect,
Of beauty, charm or intellect,

He took what women
would not give.

He didn't have
the right to live."

That's our boy all right.

Looks like he had a beef
with our old pal Jonny.

You know him?

Yeah.

He's one slippery
son of a bitch, let me tell you.

Yeah.

You guys know how much
fun it is to not catch a serial killer?

You got a point here, Lieutenant?

The point is

you'd better both
think seriously

about whether or not
you want the lead on this case.

You don't think
we're up to this?

Come on, you got what,

about 110 years on the job
between the two of you?

120.

I'm telling you, you screw it up
badly enough,

they may try to fuck you
out of your pension.

You want to risk that?

– Yeah.
– Fuck, yeah.

406, Lieutenant. 406.

Okay, 406...
what does that mean?

Ted Williams.

Ted Williams, the last day of the season,
is batting 400.

Sox manager wants to bench him,
protect his average, right?

Williams plays
both games anyway,

goes six for eight,
ends up at 406...

the last guy that ever hit
over 400.

Okay, fine. It's all yours.

Just don't go moaning to me
when some traffic cop

pulls your serial killer over
for speeding

and he grabs your
15 minutes of fame and you realize

the asshole could have been
standing right there in front of you

and it would have taken you
1000 light years to nail him.

Not for nothing, Lieutenant,

light years measures distance,
not time.

Well, thank you, Detective.
I'll make a note of that.

Ellis Lynde, 2003.

This guy had a history
of cruising gay bars,

picking up twinkies,
beating the shit out of them.

Lynde was found shot dead
in his apartment.

Whoever's doing this
gets up real close to the guys,

blows their brains out
without any trouble,

leaves no fingerprints

and obviously
takes pride in his work.

Okay, what could be
murder number two back from '04,

one Matthew Mitrella.

I was shaking
the first couple of times

I killed in cold blood.

I kept thinking if I got caught
they'd kick me off the force.

I wasn't worried about prison,
but losing the gun and the shield...

that scared me.

I went into work the next day
expecting to feel different.

I thought everybody would look at me
the way cops look at civilians

and know which ones are dirty.

But they didn't.
That's when I knew

I could keep on
doing this forever.

So next stop... Spider.

If we shut down his business,

maybe he'd be a rat.

We got a lawyer.

We needed her to testify
that she bought coke from him.

She was a good lawyer.

Me and my partner paid a visit
to Club 404 of Harlem.

A word about him...

Tom Cowen's been my partner
for almost 30 years.

He's the best cop
I've ever seen.

I'm always the one
following him through the door.

There's a bullet
that was meant for me

that's lodged in his torso.

He was my role model.

The day I stopped
trying to be Tom Cowen

was the greatest day
of my life.

Hey, Rooster,

I was going through the files
on poetry boy.

That's an interesting way
to pass your time.

Okay, there was a gun

found on Charles Randall
when he was arrested.

Yeah.

Now in all the other shootings
the gun was left at the scene,

but there are a lot of similarities.
So I mentioned it to Perez and Riley.

I think somebody should go
interview him in prison.

I think there may be a connection.

That's a good idea,
but not Perez and Riley.

I mean, not those guys.
They'll screw it up.

This is too important.

Turk and I will handle Randall, okay?

Good work.

Detectives, Charles Randall.

What the fuck
do you two scumbags want?

What a greeting.

You like poetry, Chuck?

What?

Do you like poetry?

Yeah.
Roses are red, violets are blue,

I want to poke out your fucking eyes
with my dick, you fuck.

How's that?

I thought you'd rhyme.
You didn't.

Fuck you.
Fuck both of you.

Get me out of here.

Why the fuck did we even bother
going out there?

What would it look like
if we didn't go?

Are you gonna relax?

Relax.

Yeah, I'll just take it out
on Karen later.

The more I'm with her,
the more abuse she wants.

Sounds like fun.

Hey, you want to take her
off my hands?

Be careful, partner, because I have
a very special effect on women.

Go wild.

Whatever.

I can't believe I had to face
that piece of shit and look like an idiot.

Eh, fuck him.
He's where he belongs.

I'm sorry, partner,
I'm really sorry.

Stop worrying about it.

Whatever happens,
I'm not taking you down with me.

Don't worry about me.
I'm all right, believe me.

I don't know what I was thinking.
I just don't know what I was thinking.

You know what you was thinking?
You were thinking

about a 10-year-old girl
who had her skull crushed.

Yeah, I tried to stop you,
but you know what?

I admired you that day,
what you did.

That was righteous.

And you don't second-guess yourself
on something like that.

Okay, I'm the killer.

I'm the killer.
I show up at your door

or your car window,

and for some reason
you open your door,

you roll down
your car window for me.

So who am I?

Someone I know.

Maybe a nice set of tits.

And the poems?
What about the poems?

You have to compose the poem
before you got there, right?

Otherwise what, you're gonna
blow out the guy's brains,

sit down and write a little sonnet
for yourself?

No prints on the poems,

so probably
I wore gloves when I wrote it.

You obviously know your victims.
Between that and the easy access,

I guess that they know you too.
They must.

These guys are all scumbags.
They're not gonna trust anyone,

open the door for anyone,
especially if they don't know them.

Yeah, but I more than know them.

I know everything about them.
I know their moves,

their patterns,
I know their schedules.

Okay, so you're following them.
You're staking them out.

Anyone gonna say it?

What?

Fuck me.

– He's right, it's a cop.
– No.

Let's slow down, fellows.
We're getting way ahead of ourselves.

– Come on, it's a cop, you know it.
– I don't know shit. Neither do you.

I'm telling your right now,
it's a cop, it's a cop, it's a cop.

What do you mean,
"It's a cop, it's a cop, it's a cop"?

– Where do you come off saying it's a cop?
– Easy, partner, he's just saying it.

– What are you talking about?
– He's just saying...

I know, I know, I know
what he's saying.

And I'm saying it's bullshit.

Shoot me. What the fuck?
But don't say it's a cop.

♪ You cast a spell on me ♪

♪ I was blind and now I see ♪

♪ You work your magic,
that's the key ♪

♪ You wave your wand ♪

♪ And cast a spell on me... ♪

So what about dinner?

You feel like going out?

Where?

I don't care.
You're the one going.

What is your problem?

No problem.

If you feel like hanging around,
be my guest.

I don't feel like going out.

Fine, just don't bug me.

This is the best part of my day
and I don't need you fucking it up.

So you only fuck cops?

Once in a while
I do a fireman or an ex-con.

You lump us in together?

Well, I have some respect
for firemen.

Fuck you.

You know why they take away
your nightstick

– when you hang up your uniform?
– No.

They don't trust you with it.

Right now I wouldn't trust
myself with it either.

Shit, you'd probably love that.

Too bad you never met
Van Luytens.

You two really would have
hit it off great.

At least somebody finally
brought some justice down

on that dickless little fuck.

Now that is who I'd like to meet.

Well, maybe you'll get
your wish one day.

They think it's a cop.

– Makes sense.
– Bullshit.

It's just some fucking psychopath.

Well, there's plenty of those
on the job.

– Are you sleeping well?
– Not really.

– Yep.
– Eating well?

– No.
– Yeah.

Any recurring nightmares?

Yeah, that I'm stuck
in a room with you forever.

Nope.

Do you think you're fit
to return to duty?

– Abso-fucking-lutely.
– Yeah.

– You ever think about retiring?
– You mean, death with benefits?

What's not to like?

– You ever think about retiring?
– Not really.

What have I got to look forward to?

Sailing my 26-footer
around Sheepshead Bay,

umpiring cops' softball?

– How about corporate security work?
– It's too dangerous.

– So what are you gonna do?
– Maybe I'll buy a boat.

All right, look,
I don't know if I believe this,

All right, look,
I don't know if I believe this,

but I'm just gonna
throw it out there.

You guys say we're looking
for one of our own,

but what if it was an ex-cop,
somebody with an axe to grind?

You got one in mind?

He's thinking about Martin Baum

our old lieutenant.

So what's the story with him?

He got fired a few years ago.

I'm not saying there's any motive,
but he knew all the victims.

Yeah, but Turk,
I knew most of those guys.

So did you, Riley, Perez.
Even Karen knew 'em.

– I'm just throwing it out there.
– Well, maybe you killed 'em.

Yeah, maybe I did.

The poems and the placement
of the weapons

are all we've got
linking the kills,

which means what we gotta do now
is get humping on the forensics.

That shouldn't be
too much of a problem.

We already got the girl
working on that.

That's right, Karen's been
humping on it all week, as we speak.

What did you say?

Here we go again.

– You should watch your mouth.
– Oh, yeah?

He didn't mean anything by it.
Karen and him are ancient history.

– College boy can't speak for himself?
– Yeah, I can speak for myself.

Let me speak for myself...
fuck you, Turk.

Mutt, I'm gonna hit you
on the head with this barbell.

I'm not better than you.
You're not better than me, man.

You put your balls
in your pocket.

And you, fellow officers,

a little courtesy
for a fellow professional, you know?

Please. Are we gonna move on
here now?

What are we doing?
Where were we?

Talking about Martin Baum.
What's his story?

Some guys under him
got caught taking money.

Baum stood up for them,
tried to cover it up.

He do time?

Well, they pressed charges,
but he plead out and resigned.

So what's his beef with you?

I could have lied to protect him,
but I didn't.

Okay, but if he's got a beef with you,
why not go after you?

Why not kill you? Why go around
acting like a serial killer,

killing all these degenerates?
It doesn't make any sense.

– I'm just telling you.
– I'm telling you it doesn't make sense.

I'm throwing it out there.
I'm saying this is what it is.

You want to check him out or not?
I don't give a shit.

– It doesn't make any sense.
– You're the ones that think it's a cop.

I'm just saying here's a cop
with a chip on his shoulder.

Check him out if you want.
I don't give a shit.

Calm down and give a better reason
why Baum could be a suspect, okay?

PMS, gotta be.

– Hey, guys.
– What's going on?

I came over to bring you
the FBI report

on the paper
and handwriting.

You don't have a problem
with me looking over the evidence

that I collected and processed
for you, do you?

– No problem.
– Put it back, Karen.

– This is fascinating.
– Let's go, come on.

Come on, let's go, let's go.

– What?
– Come on, let's go.

Get your hands off me.

I'll give you a little privacy.
I don't want to interrupt anything here.

Are you afraid of me
looking at your old case files?

– Is that it?
– Okay, I'm gone. Enjoy.

– What?
– What is it with you?

What is it with you?

I'm sorry about last night, okay?

I really am. It's a habit.

Habits can be broken, right?

That's bullshit.

No.

I'm totally serious, all right?

It's not bullshit,

really.

Why do you think
Turk was so quick to take the lead

on the poetry case, huh?
To keep us from finding the killer, man.

That's what I would do
if I was covering my tracks.

He sticks us on this Baum stakeout
'cause it's more misdirection.

Makes sense.

I hate that Turk, man.

Hey, he's coming out.
He's coming out.

Oh, at 2:45 in the morning.

Is it killing time
or is he just killing time?

Come on, Baum,
go kill someone already.

Yeah, kill Turk, man.
He's the one setting you up.

Do us all a favor.

Hey, did you see Turk's
marksmanship scores?

Did you see this?
It's ridiculous.

Service... 99,
70 out of 100.

Combat Association awards,
department commendations.

This guy could take out your left nut
at 50 yards.

Did you see the computer
trajectories, man?

Not one stray slug.

Even Berkowitz put a couple
in the Corinthian leather.

What about Karen?
She come up with anything new?

No, not yet.

If Baum kills somebody
I don't want us to be in the car

waiting when it happens, okay?

I'll go.

Attaboy, Teddy, attaboy.

I'm proud of you, son.

You're Perez, right?

Yeah.

I'm Martin Baum.

I got a permit for this.

I work security
in the diamond district.

So you figure it's a cop
doing the poetry killings?

Someone says, "Check out Baum.
He thinks he got a raw deal."

That's what passes
for police work these days?

Do you think
you got a raw deal?

Damn straight.

– Life sucks.
– Yeah.

– Everything okay, Simon?
– Teddy, where the fuck were you, man?

Anything else you want to tell us,
Lieutenant Baum?

– I got something for you in my pocket.
– Huh-uh!

A passport, credit card receipts,
boarding passes.

The day Brady was killed

I was escorting a client
to Brazil.

Judgment is
the dominion of the Lord.

And if this person,
this worthless rapist

or murderer,
as you describe him,

if he is truly repentant
and seeks absolution,

it must be granted to him.

Your name doesn't ring a bell,

but I've had so many
altar boys over the years.

So many altar boys

that it's hard to remember
their names.

My name is David Fisk,
Detective First Grade.

You may not
remember me now,

but I guarantee you'll remember my name
for the rest of your life.

Father Connell,
may he rot in hell.

13 down, one to go.

White underwear
below the knee.

Briefs-style.

Large tweezers.

I am removing a card that has been
inserted in the rectum of the deceased

and placing it
in a plastic evidence bag.

– I'll be right back.
– All right.

Hey. It's another one,

handwritten.

"The old man
who the children trust,

Unable to control his lust,

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

The church can't stop him.
Someone must."

I'll see what else I can find.

What's the matter with you?

Father Connell gave me
my first communion

back in Bensonhurst.

Hey, guys.
Sorry we didn't get a chance to call.

– Yeah, I bet you are.
– Go over there, take a look around.

We'll compare notes later, okay?

Looks like our friend just settled
an old score with the priest,

left him with his pants down.

– Come on.
– No, look.

Come on, don't talk like that.

– Hey, look for yourself.
– Have a little respect.

Next thing they're gonna tell us
Lieutenant Baum was an altar boy here.

Tell me about it.
These two guys fucking stink.

Look, Doctor,
you read the poems.

It is possible, right,
that this guy is a cop?

I've never seen it.

I've never even heard
about a cop serial killer.

Come on, girls,
let's go, let's go.

Yeah. Go go go go go
go go go go!

Safe.

Doc, give us a tip.
How are we gonna catch this guy?

You don't have to worry
about that.

He wants to get caught.

You don't have any better place
to have lunch?

I wanted to thank you.

What, about Spider?

Yeah.

And for looking in on me
at the hospital

and the encouragement.

Why would he want that?

After a while
getting away with it isn't enough.

So is your daughter
on the team?

No, she used to play,
but now she's 25, living in California,

five years sober
and working as a nurse.

And her mother?

Her mother died
when she was very young.

He wants everybody to know
that he got away with it,

to show everybody
just how brilliant he is.

Most of these killings were criminals
in Rooster's and his beat, right?

And then he all but threatens
to kill Van Luytens

in front of hundreds of witnesses.
And then he sends us

on this crazy wild goose chase
after Lieutenant Baum, didn't he?

– Yes, he did.
– Why would he do that? Why?

You gotta show me more than that.
So far you got shit.

– Give him more, man.
– You want more?

– How about the church records?
– The very ones that Turk was

so diligently pursuing.
How about that?

It turns out our most recent victim,
the late Father Connell,

was moved all over the place...
eight parishes in 20 years.

Why would they do that
with a Catholic priest? It's obvious.

He's giving the children
more than communion behind the altar.

Now Turk already admits
to knowing this guy as a child.

It's very plausible.

This priest,
this Father Connell,

he gave you your first
holy communion, eh?

He did.

Did he every try to do
anything inappropriate? I mean...

I know what you mean.
No, never.

Okay, fine.
Is there any reason

why somebody out there
might think that he did?

No.

Am I a suspect here, Lieutenant?

No,

but these bodies
are starting to smell.

A lot of it is drifting
in your direction.

Drifting or being pushed?

What can I say?

You got connections
to most of these victims.

You're not exactly
Mother Teresa.

I never had any problem
with that priest.

Okay. Okay, fine.

That settles it.

I had a talk with Riley and Perez.

Good cops.

Don't fuck around, okay?
Just listen.

I'm listening.

They think
Turk might be our guy.

Oh, man. I gotta tell you,

from where I'm sitting
that is so fucking funny.

You can't take that seriously.

Everybody has pretty much
accepted the fact

– that we're chasing one of our own.
– But it ain't Turk.

Sure as I'm sitting here
he ain't the guy.

– You know that?
– Yes, I do.

– How do you know that?
– Because I know it.

I know it to a moral certainty.

Okay?

This priest,

this Father Connell...

he was Turk's priest
when he was a kid.

He told you that.

He didn't tell me this priest
was a child molester.

– I can't believe this bullshit.
– Believe it, all right?

– Turk's a good guy.
– You understand?

– He's the best cop you got.
– Don't you tell me what I gotta do.

Don't you say a goddamn word
to him about this either,

or you're finished.

Can I speak now?

Feel free.

He cares.
You know what I'm saying?

Turk cares about people.

I know he runs around
like a pit bull on crack sometimes.

It doesn't matter.

He cares about protecting people.

And if you don't back him,

you will regret it.

Jesus.

Sorry.

I just never rattled
anyone's cage before.

– Got a minute?
– Yeah, what's up?

You know me and Turk
are buddies, right?

Of course.

I'd do anything for him.

He would do anything for you.

Would you?

Would I what?

Would you do anything for him?

I don't know...
where is this going?

He wants you
to have sex with me.

Really?

He wouldn't mind.

But that's not why I'm here.

Okay, why are you here?

Where were you
the night Rambo was killed

and Trager?
Got an alibi for those nights?

I mean, did you know either one
those guys before they were murdered?

Makes you uncomfortable
when I talk like that.

You look like you're guilty.
You're not guilty.

I know that.
You didn't kill those guys, did you?

Now you know what Turk feels.

I need you to get me
some information

discreetly.

Can you do that for me?

You got it.

Absolutely.

Let's solve these fucking murders.

Oh.

Hey, boy genius.
– Perfect timing, buddy.

Listen, you really worked
on Hingis, didn't you?

He was all worked up
about my partner.

Good. He should be.

I think we should sit down,
see if we can square things, okay?

All right. Want to meet at Montrose
at 8:00 PM?

Could you make that 9:00?
I gotta meet an old friend.

Yeah, sure, whatever you want.

♪ Baby's got issues ♪

♪ Baby's got pains... ♪

– Hey, fellows.
– Hey.

Thanks for coming.

– This here is Cheryl Brooks.
– Hello, Cheryl Brooks.

Cheryl's got something to tell you.

My daughter Lynn

died four years ago.

She was 10 years old.
She was raped and she was murdered.

The guy I was living with,
Charles...

Charles Randall.

Yeah, Charles Randall... he did it.

Why are you telling us this?

Because he got off for that.
He was acquitted at trial.

– Because?
– Because?

I testified for him.

– You did what?
– I said he was with me.

You see, Cheryl here is
a very forgiving person,

unlike us hard-asses.

– He threatened to kill me.
– Okay, Cheryl.

Now you say goodbye
to the nice officers

and you go on back home.

Don't drink yourself to death.

Okay, so...

eh?

I want to hear you say it.

Come on, say it.

We planted the gun
in Randall's apartment, okay?

I said it. Happy?

– Thank you.
– Yes, I am.

I'd do it again if I had to
'cause that fucking maggot

could rot away for all eternity.
I'd sleep just fine.

So what do you want from us?

You guys think
my partner's a serial killer.

You're way off.

You like Turk for this thing?
Go have your fun.

I'll go along with you.

I'll even help you.

But do not drag up Chuck Randall
and that fucking gun,

because if he walks out of jail
he's gonna end up dead.

Excuse me?

I'll put two
through his fucking head

myself.

Done deal.

My grandmother loved opera.

She supported us by sewing.

I used to thread needles
for my grandmother.

– Gave all her money to church.
– You admired her?

I worshipped her.

Rooster? Yeah, he's religious,
goes to church.

How about you?

Our job is keeping
99% of the population safe

from the other 1%.

The problem is that we have to
spend half our lives with that 1%.

And the better we do that job,

the less the other 99% think
they need us.

They're clueless.

The only ones paying attention
on the street

are the cops and the criminals.
Everyone else is just

going somewhere
or shopping.

Out.
– Come on.

I got an order here placing you
on restricted duty.

Now in plain English that means
you'll work at your desk.

You might want to cooperate
with the shrink

next time you two meet,
and you will meet again.

Cool my fucking heels.
Cool my fucking heels, huh?

I'm gonna blow a fucking hole
in that motherfucker Perez

and blow right through his head
for putting me through this bullshit.

– Turk.
– Fuck, I'm gonna...

kill that motherfucker.

Calm down. What the hell is it?
You're making all the wrong moves.

What are you talking about?
This ain't a chess game, partner.

Who knows? Maybe it is.
You go at Perez now...

you know what's gonna happen?
You're gonna walk right into a trap.

You are.
They're just waiting for you.

Fucking Hingis.

Fucking Hingis believes him.

He actually fucking believes
that motherfucking Perez.

Stay back. Wait.

Wait for the right time,
then fire away.

Not now. Now is not the right time.

Believe me.

You believe me?
Now is not the time.

Uh-huh.

– Please.
– Yeah.

Hey, Turk, I gotta skip tonight.
My class ran late.

But I'll see you
tomorrow, all right?

And I'm sorry about what happened
with you and Lieutenant Hingis today.

It's gonna be fine.
It'll blow over.

People are just... everyone's crazy.
People are overreacting.

All right? Good night.

It's a cop, it's a cop, it's a cop.

What you got for me, good-looking?

Mark my words, there's a reason
Perez is gunning for me.

Perez is too smart to be that stupid.

For one thing, all that college-boy crap...
that's bullshit.

He did one year at SUNY,
only one year.

No kidding.

They threw him out...
disruptive influence.

And I hear from the 240 he mixed it up bad
with a captain over there.

The guy is a total
fucking asshole.

BMW 3 series,

Mercedes CLK... too light.

BMW 7 series...
the biggest engine.

That's what you have to get.
If they shoot at you,

you still want
to get the fuck out of there...

Bentley... very good

because can fuck two prostitutes
in back seat

and mount flame-thrower
on the hood. Da?

Da.

What about a Cadillac?
Come on,

the fucking car can't turn
fucking corner. Are you kidding me?

You know either one of those
Neanderthals?

The wop is Joe Scianci from Bensonhurst.
He's a mid-level guy.

What about lvan?

Russian guy,
Yevgeny Magulat,

an enforcer for the Italians,
works with Gambinos a lot.

That shit's getting to me.

I know it's getting to you.

Shit gets to me too, you know,

but I take it in, I let it out
on my own terms.

I bet you didn't write
one word down

in that little notebook
Prosky gave us.

Of course not. Did you?

Yeah, it's great.

It helps me put things in perspective.

You know what I'm saying?
Write it down, get it out.

– You should try this.
– Let's have a look.

What, are you kidding me?
Oh, come on, come on.

This belongs to me... private.

– You don't want to let me see?
– Close to my heart. No, sir.

I just got sick
of the whole fucking game...

run around looking for clues,
making arrests,

write reports, testify, cut deals.

It was all just so much
fucking bullshit.

Detective...

Then it all got real simple.

Yeah, Detective Perez here.
Hey, brother, what's up?

I hate scumbags. I like shooting people.
What was I giving up?

Hey, look, I set the meeting up
with Rooster first thing tomorrow.

Come on, you gotta be fast, man.
I don't want Turk getting wind of anything.

A retirement party and a gold watch?

A handshake from the mayor
and my name on some fucking plaque?

Big fucking deal.

It's better this way.

Now everybody knows
who I was and where I stood.

Hey, it's me.

Listen, I think somebody
followed me here... home.

He's outside right now.

Can you come over or...?

Just call me back, okay?
All right.

Don't move.

– Come on, open up.
– Turk?

I just called you.

Put the gun down.

There's a car following me.

Put the gun down.
Put the gun down.

Have you got
something to tell me?

About what?

Trager, Randall.

Did you sneak
into my apartment?

What are they doing
on your computer?

I was checking
all the links in the case.

Are you hiding something
from me?

Huh?

I just received this... this poem.

A poem?
Not worth mentioning, huh?

The handwriting
doesn't even match.

It's a fake.

Did you write it?

Did you write it?

What the hell is going on here?

You're spending a lot of time
with Perez, aren't you?

Yeah, I've been working the case.

What, are you jealous?

Can I trust you?

– Yes.
– Okay.

Get me anything and everything
that you can find out

about Perez or Riley,
what they know about me.

Everything.

Karen, don't play me.

I am leaning much further
into saying that it is a cop.

Tell you what... I'm moving
past the leaning stage

and I'm moving towards the
l-know-for-sure-it's-a-fucking-cop stage,

considering how expertly
he shot the shit out of my house.

Oh my God.
Are you hurt?

Am I hurt? Am I hurt?
He wants to know if I'm hurt.

Actually, he's dead.

His name is Magulat.
The guy we saw at Salerno's.

Yeah, he's in intensive care
at St. Luke's.

They think he's the guy

– chopped off Yakov Pearlstein's head.
– What do you think?

You think he's a victim,
or could he be our suspect?

I don't know, but either way
I think it's gonna be fun.

Doctor, what's the story?

He's one of the toughest human beings
I've ever come into contact with.

We took six bullets
out of him.

Six? Whoo!

Three from the night he was wounded,
three from previous shootings.

The man is a tank.

Do you mind if I talk to him
a little bit?

His jaw's wired shut,
but go ahead.

That's okay. I'll ask the questions.
He can just grunt.

Hey, Yevgeny.

Wake up.

That's it. Wake up,
you big fucking grizzly bear.

You don't speak Russian?

Swoboda. Swoboda. Swoboda.

Ron.

I'm thinking this Russian killing machine
could be our first eyewitness.

Wake up, gugumuck.
You can tell us who did this to you.

Detective, I think that's enough.

Then you could tell us where you put
Yakov Pearlstein's head.

4-3, 4-3, I need a round-the-clock
security detail

on a patient Magulat,
M-A-gulat,

St. Luke's in the ICU.

♪ I wake up in the morning... ♪

Is this the number to call
to report a case of police brutality?

– Cat got your tongue?
– Out on bail again?

What, you think you can scare me,
little bitch? What do you want?

Be careful, Detective.
My taxes pay your salary.

You don't pay any fucking taxes,
you lowlife piece of shit.

– Get to the point, come on.
– One of your vics, Trager,

stole a whole lot of guns
down South.

Same guns are turning up
on your murder scenes.

So it's simple...

find stolen guns,
you got your guy.

So you know the guy?

Do you know if there's a cop out there
who might be a danger to the public?

I couldn't live with myself
if I just stood by and didn't say anything.

Look, I'm gonna give you
two seconds more. Give me yes or no.

Do you know the guy?
And when do I meet you to talk about it?

Friday, 9:00 PM, at my club.

I'll be there.

Man, there's dumb
and there's dumber,

but this is the motherfucking dumbest
right here, man.

Easy, son, easy.
It's gonna be easy for you.

All you gotta do is be bait, that's all.
Be a little sardine for us, all right?

You help us... we got you covered.
Your club doesn't get hassled

and you don't have a revolving door
in and out of jail.

Do we have a deal or not?

Yeah, but your boy come in here
and go Hannibal Lecter on my ass,

I don't want no Jodie fucking Foster
coming through the door.

I want the goddamn
Marine Corps, man.

♪ Since Color Me Badd was singing
"I wanna sex you up"... ♪

Evening, Detective.

You want one? It's shit,
but it's better than nothing, right?

As soon as I heard
the fucking Russian didn't die

I knew things would never
be the same.

I had to change the rules,

the strategy.

I had to be bold, do something
that could never be undone.

I went for the unforgivable.

No. Please. No.

Did you hear
anything I just said?

How exactly could I be
blowing this out of proportion?

That psycho just assaulted me.

I am telling you
he is a classic sociopath.

Okay okay,
I'll look into it, all right?

I'll look into it.

You stay the hell away from here.
Understood?

Understood?

Fuck that.

Check the ball,
check the ball.

I got the ball. I got the ball. I got the ball.
Stay on him. Stay on him.

Excuse me,
I'm Detective Corelli.

– I need to see your reservation book.
Sure. Help yourself.

– Thank you.
– Anytime.

Yes, this is Detective Corelli.

I've been trying to reach
Detectives Perez and Riley

and I can't seem
to locate them.

I like to party.
– That's nothing. I was into Kiss.

I used to run
around the house

with my tongue hanging out,
spitting fake blood.

I need to speak to them
urgently.

Yes, I understand,
but I need the location, please.

Hey, he's here.

Let me in.

Thank God it's the police.

Thank God it's the police.

Yeah, so where do we go?

Follow me.

I used to play ball
a couple of blocks from here.

Get the fuck out of here.

When I was a kid I wasn't afraid
to mix it up with guys like you.

You still ain't.

Yeah, nowadays
I carry a gun with me.

It's a bad neighborhood.

– It ain't bad for me.
– Yeah, well...

Yeah, he's inside.

Well, so far so good.

So now that we're done with
the pleasantries, what do you got for me?

He's talking.

– What did you think he was gonna do?
How about an apology?

The shit that happened to Stubby,
that wasn't supposed to happen.

Lieutenant, that's a crock of shit.
– I lost three fucking teeth that day.

He's not a civilian.
He's a fucking dealer.

– And I kept my mouth shut.
– So what?

You guys love those stupid gold teeth.
You should thank me.

Well, he's wearing a vest
and Starsky and Hutch here

are watching him like a couple
of hawks... gay hawks.

Yeah, right there, buddy.

All right, enough bullshit.
So you know our poetry boy?

Just talk to me.
What do you got for me?

– All right, here we go.
– Here we go.

Would you please?

Just 'cause the guy's talking tough,
that don't mean shit.

Let me ask you something,
Copernicus.

That gun on his belt...
do you think it's a service pistol?

I bet you we'll trace it back to Trager's.
What do you think about that?

– What do you want to bet?
– 500 bucks.

– You're on.
– I'm in for another five.

Oh, this is fun.

Look, I help you,
you reciprocate.

So help me.

All right, you might see
a little bit of a cell-phone video.

I got it in front of Trager's
the night he bought it.

– You got what?
– I got a movie...

a couple of kids back from the prom,
preserving their special memories,

a positive ID of you, big time.

– Oh, yeah? Of me?
– Yeah.

Okay.

Now you know
what I'm talking about.

Yeah, now I got it.

Yeah, well,
so how do I look?

Like a poet?

'Cause that's what I am,
you know, a poet.

All right, come on, let's go.

In fact, I wrote a poem for you, Spider.
Want to hear it?

Eh?

Drop your gun right now, motherfucker!
Drop to the ground right now!

Oh! Oh! Grease me up and...

I mean, do they actually pay
you two morons?

– Put the fucking weapon on the ground.
– Gladly. Gladly. Right there.

Right there. There you go.

Hey, you want to read my poem?

Easy easy.

Here, read it.

"You tried to set me up, you fucks,

And this is how you do it?

You thought I'd get
my dick cut off,

Instead you only blew it."

Great stuff.

– What is that shit?
– Thank you.

That is poetry.

What are you doing here?

Well, don't look at me, partner,

but I tagged along
to protect your ass

and to see the look on their faces.
It was worth it.

We're doing our jobs here, okay?
I'm not gonna apologize for that.

I never want you to apologize, Teddy.
There's a killer out there with a badge.

– What are you morons doing about it?
– What do you think we're doing here?

– That's not it.
– No, that's not it.

I just made 1000 bucks.

Where's the other gun?
Give it to me.

Why don't you frisk me, Sherlock?
Go ahead.

– Frisk me, go ahead. Go ahead.
– Yeah, I'm gonna frisk you.

Ooh, nice touch, Mary.

What are you doing after work?
Unless you're committed.

I don't want to get
in the middle of anything.

What happened to your face?
Your mick friend give you a little love bite?

– Shut the fuck up. Shut your fucking face.
– Hey hey hey! Whoa!

I'll blow your brains out
if you don't get the fuck away.

What's he talking about?

– What's he talking about?
– What he's talking about is,

just 'cause you didn't go for this
doesn't mean you're not our guy.

– Now we gotta break this shit up.
– Don't translate for me, man.

Will you let this go?
You fucked up, okay?

– We fucked up 'cause you helped him.
– I'm gonna nail your ass.

I'm not through with you, man.
Make a mistake.

I'm gonna
break this stuff down, okay?

You fucking dog.

Relax, Spider.

Come on, let's have a drink.

I saw what I think
is a refrigerator here.

I'll be back in a second.

Hey, muffinhead.

Is this the person
who shot you?

You're sure?

No, you're the pumpkinhead.

You miss me?

"...of death and pain,

Place oneself among the slain.

If one addiction goes unfed,

The world is better with him dead."

Take it easy.

It's okay.
It's gonna be all right.

Jesus Christ, Rooster.

Just move into the room. Here.

Sit down. Sit down.

Okay.

You gotta know about this,
Tom, from me.

Now just open that little book,
start reading.

Everything you want to know
is in there.

So go ahead.

Out loud.

For the record.

See the little video here?

"My name is David Fisk,
Detective First Grade.

I've been a cop in the NYPD
for nearly 30 years."

– Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave.
– Tom,

we've got a lot to cover
and not much time to do it in, so...

"My name is David Fisk,
Detective First Grade."

My name is David Fisk.

"I've been a cop in the NYPD
for nearly 30 years."

I don't expect you
to remember me.

I mean, it's been a long time

since you sat me on your lap
and told me you loved me.

"In that time

I've killed 14 people."

But I guarantee

you're gonna remember the name
for the rest of your life.

"You don't become a cop
because you want to serve and protect.

You join the force because they let you
carry a gun and a badge.

Most people respect the badge.

Everybody respects the gun."

I'm the killer.
I show up at your door.

What are you talking about?
It's not a fucking chess game.

Who knows? Maybe it is.
You're making all the wrong moves.

I'm gonna put two
through his fucking head

myself.

I know it to a moral certainty.

You sort of get numb to it.

"Tom Cowen was my role model.

The day I stopped trying to be him

was the greatest day of my life.

Several years back I framed
a lowlife child killer

named Charles Randall.

I should have known
it would come back to haunt me."

What do you want me
to do with this?

Is that all you got to say?

I owe you this explanation, pal.

Why are you telling me now?

lvan the Terrible
is gonna wake up pretty soon

and he's gonna ID me.

Evening, Detective.

You want one? It's shit,
but it's better than nothing, right?

I can just walk right in here.
Your partner's asleep. Step outside.

Did I ever pick
the wrong fucking Russki to shoot?

Now we're going off the record.

Uh, I'm going to take the rap
for the Randall gun thing.

You saw that.

I mean, considering
the circumstances, why not?

No need to thank me.

That business about not being me...

Yeah.

I don't get that.

Well, you're a great cop, Tom.

I mean, you were the one

I aspired to all my life
and could never be.

Then you broke the law,

planted the gun on Randall,

let me down.

I lost my faith.

That's when it all started.

And once it did,

I couldn't stop.

Finally,

I didn't want to.

So I did my own thing.

And you know what? In the end

it got done.

The scum went down.

And that's it. That's that.

I don't understand
a word you said,

– don't understand any of it.
– I know you don't, Tom.

As soon as I heard
the Russian didn't die

I knew I had to change the rules,

do something that could
never be undone.

I went for the unforgivable.

No.

So what am I gonna do, my friend,

partner? Arrest you?

At some point I gotta call it in.

We're a team.

We were.

Yeah, we were, a great team.

That was yesterday, Dave.

Today...

today you're pointing a gun at me.

But it hasn't gone off yet.

Bye, Tom.

– Where are you going?
– I don't know.

To hell, I suppose.

– Hey, Dave, Dave.
– Whoa.

Don't come closer!

– You wouldn't.
– You want to bet your life on it?

Come on, partner, I know you.
You wouldn't.

But I would.

Oh.

Karen, just take it easy.

– Can't get me out of your mind?
– Shut up, Dave.

You're gonna defend
this lowlife piece of shit?

– Boy, I'm in your head.
– I'm not defending him. Take it easy.

Fuck you, Turk.
Put the gun down, Fisk.

– And if I don't?
– Dave.

– How about I blow your brains out?
– Ooh, I like the sound of that.

– Don't move.
– Karen.

You blow me away, Turk dies.
Is that your idea?

I said don't move, you prick.

Bye-bye!

Give me the gun.
Give me the gun.

Stay here.

Oh, man.

Fuck.

These old locks...

I mean, they're good.

Dave, you've got to end
this thing.

End it?

Put the gun down.

What's your plan?

Are you gonna arrest me?

Are you gonna take me down
to the precinct, book me,

fingerprint me,
body-cavity-search me?

What the fuck
are you gonna do?

wheel me out on the "Geraldo" show,
a freak of the week?

Or better yet, an in-depth
psycho profile on "Oprah"?

Are you ready for that?
It ain't gonna fly, man.

Dave, you give me no choice.

You got a choice... I escape.

Would you do that for me, Tom?

Would you let me escape?

Come on, don't do this.

I'm gonna make a run for it.

What do you think?

You gotta do the right thing.

That's a 10-10, partner...

shots fired, suspect fleeing.
Let's go!

Come on, don't go there.

Hey, partner, come on.
Shots fired.

– Don't do this.
– Suspect fleeing,

resisting arrest. Come on.

A righteous man

Before me stands,

A hero in these filthy lands.

A brother in arms,

In heart are you.

I was really hoping

You'd get it too.

– I do get it.
– No, you don't.

No, I get it.

You know, the only thing
in this life

that ever gave me
any satisfaction

was killing those fucks.

So this is for real.

I mean,

this one is bad.

10-13.

Officer down.

I ain't going anywhere, Tom.

I ain't going anywhere.

It's okay.

3-4 squad, Central.
3-4 squad, Central.

10-13, officer down.
184th and St. Nick's.

Officer down, 10-13.
Hurry hurry hurry.

10-4, 4 squad...
– Tom, don't. Don't.

– Officer down. ETA six minutes.
– Don't.

Don't.

Don't.

3-4 squad, Central.

Central.
Go ahead, 4 squad.

That's a 10-55 on the bus.
Cancel the ambulance.

10-5?

Cancel the ambulance.
10-55 on the bus. Cancel the ambulance.

– You sure on that?
– Sure on that.

You did this, you know.

I know, partner, I know.

We did good, Tom.

Tom, Tommy.

We did good. We did good.

You're a good man, Tom.

You're a good man.

I wish you...

I wish you

continued success.

Some piece of work, your partner.

Lights.

Look, Cowen,

the way we see it,

Detective Fisk just closed the door
on the poetry boy.

Good. Whatever you say.

Are we done?

Yeah, we're done.

My daughter called.

She was upset about Rooster
and worried about me.

She asked me if I was likely
to do something stupid

and I said, "Like what,

take anger management classes
or retire?"

I said I was gonna do
the same old thing I always do.

She said, "Good.
What else could you do?"

I said, "Right."

A real chip off the old block,
my daughter.

She said I was a cop
and a good one.

Funny... Rooster said
the same thing.

Okay, guys,
let's get ready to play ball.

On the count of three.
Everybody in?

One, two, three, explosion!