Original subtitles

Since 1970,

the federal witness protection program

has relocated thousands of witnesses--

some criminal, some not--

to neighborhoods all across the country.

Every one of those individuals

shares a unique attribute, distinguishing them

from the rest of the general population,

and that is: Somebody wants them dead.

You put on sun block?

I'll put it on when we get to the beach.

No, no, you gotta put it on a half hour before.

Babe. All right.

I'll put the sunscreen on.

Good.

You two are making me carsick.

Oh, yeah?

I can't wait till you have kids and they think

you're a ridiculous old fool.

Sorry to run your fun, but I'm not having kids.

Bite your tongue, you.

You're giving me grandbabies.

Or else...

Why are we stopping?

Well, petey's sick,

and I promised Dominic i'd, uh,

I'd drop off some stuff for him.

All ri--

try and hurry, because if not,

we don't get a good spot, frank.

Don't worry, I'll just be a minute.

Not even.

Tell petey I hope he feels better.

Will do.

And you, don't screw with me.

You're gonna give me grandchildren.

You hear me? Yes, mom.

That's right.

Oh, my god.

How does that fat bastard get up and down

those stairs every day?

Who is it?

It's captain kangaroo.

Frankie, is that you?

Yeah, yeah, it's Frankie.

Come on, come on. I'm in a hurry, petey.

Yo, Frankie.

Hey, petey.

I got a delivery for you from Dominic.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

Petey?

Where are you?

Are you dead?

Oh, no.

Oh...

* I can't see me

* lovin' nobody but you

* for all my life

I have no idea how that happened.

* the skies will be blue

all right, get back. Let's go.

God, it's so beyond retarded.

First of all,

we don't say "retarded" anymore.

Don't even think about parking there.

U.S. marshals.

Cars better be here when we get back.

And second,

it's not retarded-- it's marketing.

Then it's retarded marketing.

Look, imagery and metaphor have been used--

oh, thank god.

Hey, what's up?

It seems your sister would prefer

someone else to pick her up.

What? Put her on.

Mary would like a word.

Hey.

Don't "hey" me.

What the hell do you think you're doing?

Nothing, but there's no way in hell

I'm taking a ride from some

rico suave wannabe

I've never even seen before.

Why can't you pick me up?

Because I'm working...

All the way on the other side of town.

But I'm your sister.

Hey, you know what-- you can either

accept my friend's generous offer or start walking.

Fine, I'll take the ride.

You do that.

Here.

Problems?

Brandi got in this morning.

For my surprise party, no doubt.

My condolences.

Now, as I was saying--

imagery and metaphor have been used

to sell products forever.

Please, Jesus, take me now.

Take the Ford mustang, for instance.

Named for a powerful and agile animal,

qualities we also seek in an automobile.

It's called "transference."

Yeah, okay. What about my probe?

Exactly what image is that supposed to transfer?

'Cause all I'm getting is paper dress,

metal stirrups, and legs akimbo.

Exactly what was the thought process

behind that marketing coup?

"Say, Bob,

"what's a metaphor for an invasive,

"somewhat humiliating procedure?

"'Cause we really need something

to compete with the Chevy speculum."

Ugh, why am I eating this crap?

You gonna be like this all day?

What?

Like-- You know.

Guess it depends how long it's gonna be my birthday.

All day.

There you go.

Here we go.

It's a common misconception

that the membership in the fraternity of goodfellas

is a prerequisite for admission

into the federal witness protection program.

God, if only that were true.

Many witnesses are everyday folk who,

through no criminal enterprise of their own,

have come to possess damning info

about some very dangerous people.

These unlucky losers are trouble magnets

and should be avoided whenever possible.

Thanks.

Uh-huh.

Which, in my line of work,

is almost never.

A ticket? Are you kidding me?

Car's still there, ain't it?

Ass-wipe.

It's all right.

We'll take care of you. You're safe.

So this is how we're transporting witnesses now?

It's a metaphor.

Oh, yeah? For what, crap?

Let's go.

Thank you. You're welcome.

So welcome to Albuquerque. Is this your first time?

Da. Uh, yes.

How long you been in the states?

Three years in New York.

Well, this is a far cry from Manhattan.

And a universe from Moscow.

I am from Kiev.

You speak Russian.

A little.

I learned it in the '80s

when you guys were still commies.

In Ukraine, we speak Ukrainian.

Uh...

Shut up.

Hi, Stan.

Hi, Mary. It's Stan.

I know it's you, Stan.

That's why I said, "hi, Stan."

Oh, right.

So did you pick up the witness?

Yeah, we're on the way to the apartment now.

Listen, I just got a call

from Albuquerque P.D. and, uh--

oh, boy.

And "oh, boy" what, Stan?

I know that tone. Something happened.

Yeah, Frankie santoro's kid

might have been shot last night.

What? Where? Is he dead?

I said "might."

All right, might.

They found a body on one of those

development sites out the pan am freeway.

I'm on my way.

That's one choice, but bringing a witness

to the murder site of another witness--

that violates at least six WITSEC codes of conduct.

Stan? I know what you're doing.

You're holding the phone out the window.

What's that? I can't hear you.

You're breaking up.

She's holding the phone out the window.

Mary, you listen-- Stan?

I absolutely for--

change of plans.

Frankie santoro's kid may have been hit last night.

Gotta see for myself.

What about...

She's coming with.

Fun.

Hi, Stan.

Marshall.

What?

I'm sorry, Stan. You're breaking up.

Frankie santoro, a.K.A. Frankie nuts--

a nickname not bestowed for his love of filberts--

earned his ticket into witness protection

by agreeing to testify against his former boss,

Dominic mastro, last of the big-time dons.

Frankie had the misfortune of whacking petey lorusso

while he was under FBI surveillance,

which, coincidentally, was also petey's misfortune.

Wow, just like the motion pictures.

Can I get you something? A bromo?

Tasha, just stay in the car.

This'll just take a few minutes.

Okay.

Please don't let this be Frankie's kid.

Should I call jinx now

and tell her to cancel your party?

If you were any kind of friend,

you would have done it a long time ago.

You the lead on this?

Yeah, unfortunately.

Detective Dershowitz.

Dershowitz. Really?

Yeah, a long story.

I'll bet.

Everyone calls me "Bobby."

Or "Bobby d."

Mary Shannon. U.S. marshals.

So why'd you call the marshals, detective?

Well, we got two dead kids.

We have a girl named Sienna Burke over there.

And a boy with this in his wallet.

And this.

It was tucked behind the other one.

Kid with two identities,

occurred to me he might be in witness protection.

You got all that from a fake I.D.?

Yeah, I'm intuitive that way.

All right, thanks.

Uh, that's evidence.

Uh-huh.

Any thoughts about what happened?

You're asking me, what, out of professional curiosity?

Sure, let's go with that.

Well, the girl's father is Cale Burke.

He's the developer of this land,

a project that's been contested

in and out of court for about a decade.

And you think somebody unhappy about the project

might have done this?

Hell if I know, but it's a place to start.

Right?

Unless of course you think I should be looking

someplace else.

Nope, sounds to me

like you're heading in the right direction.

That's what I thought.

Thanks for the call. Mm-hmm.

Hey, what's with the silent sentinels?

Huh? Guys on the bikes.

Oh, they've been watching all morning.

You're not questioning them 'cause...

Because chasing Indians on dirt bikes

through the desert seems like a poor use of my talent.

Makes sense.

Hey, how 'bout it?

He one of yours?

Oh, afraid I don't know

what you're talking about.

Thanks again for the call.

That's right, you're the branch of law enforcement

that puts criminals back on the street,

right?

Oh, god.

What a waste.

Hey.

Don't touch that.

Can't you shut his eyes?

Only if you got a needle and thread.

Any thoughts on why he gets it in the back of the head

and she gets hers in the face?

She was running.

Took two in the spine, taking out her legs.

Then they turned her over.

And finished her off in the face?

Not quite.

Good god.

Somebody was pissed off.

This goes way beyond pissed off.

She was alive for most of this.

So you think this was a message

to Frankie senior?

I don't know-- that kinda violence,

you gotta believe she was the target.

Plus, they find junior, they found senior.

So why not just take Frankie out?

Why not just take Frankie out?

Unless they don't want him dead.

Maybe they just want him to queer his testimony.

That could hurt a case worse than him not showing up.

That could hurt a case worse than him not showing up.

Please stop that.

Then again, anyone who knows Frankie

knows killing his kid's not the way to motivate him.

So you think he's not gonna be happy about this?

Have you noticed I'm not in a joking mood?

Sorry.

I gotta go find Frankie.

Tasha.

I told you to wait in the car.

It's okay. Come on.

Let's get you home.

Aww, that makes me sad.

why are we stopping here?

Just stay in the car and don't touch anything.

No-- hey, wait!

No.

Hey, amigo. Que pasa?

Yo, g. Todo bien.

Hey, what's up?

Just keep an eye on the ride for me.

Make sure nothing bad happens to the car or to her.

Mostly to the car.

All right.

Hey, mami.

What's crackin'?

You wanna eff off?

Here you go, padre.

20 tickets for Wednesday night.

Gracias.

De nada.

"Bleachers"?

So did you take her to my house?

Not exactly.

Raph, what did you do?

I left her sitting in my car

in front of the youth center,

with a couple of

junior cholos scoping her out.

She's totally freaking out.

You did that?

Yeah. Pretty funny, huh?

Oh, yeah.

But not the way you think.

What's that mean?

It means my sister has a penchant

for boosting cars.

A penchant?

More like a compulsion.

Son of a bitch.

I thought I told you to watch the car.

We did, ese.

Yeah, g. There it go.

Mary, you better come pick me up.

Ahh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you.

You're breaking up.

Just a second.

Okay.

Phone works.

Phones work.

No.

No, no, no, I can't.

I wish to go home.

This is your home now.

No, please!

It's not possible.

Tasha, listen to me.

You can't go back.

You can never go back.

You know what they'll do to you.

I am just bookkeeper.

I know.

I know. I know.

Shh.

Let it out.

Okay. Okay.

Shh, it's okay.

Let it out.

How this can happen?

My life.

My...family.

Everything gone.

They don't even let me bring pictures.

I know, it isn't fair.

But listen to me--

you did a great, courageous thing, testifying.

Okay, and now it's time to focus on the future.

Think of it as a chance

to build a whole new life.

Even better than the one you had before.

But you cannot under any circumstances,

not matter how homesick or lonely you get,

go back home

or contact anyone from your past.

In the history of the witness protection program,

no one who's followed the rules has ever been harmed.

You can do this. Okay?

I know you can.

Come on. Okay, come on.

Stand up. Come on.

How 'bout you rest for a little while,

watch some TV--

cable's not hooked up yet.

Yeah, all right.

Um, I'll get the cable turned on.

And a little later,

I'll come by with some groceries.

Is there anything special you need?

They promised me new breasts.

When I can get them?

No, between 1:00 and 5:00

isn't good enough, federico.

Our friend needs her cable on now.

So get it done or we're switching to satellite.

That's funny?

How about we switch to satellite,

then I punch you in the face?

She's home now.

I'll tell her you're on your way.

So anyway, if you could start processing info--

little Frankie, the girl, her father,

friends and family of everyone

Frankie's testifying against.

Whatever else you can think of.

You know,

I'm not your assistant.

I have a couple dozen witnesses

of my own to deal with.

Oh, yeah?

Any of their kids get murdered last night?

I'll have to check.

Oh, fine.

Thank you.

Pissy little girl.

I heard that.

I don't give a rat's ass about your protocol.

I've got two parents on their way down here

to see their son, and trust me on this one,

this is not where you want them to find him.

Then you better keep them outta here.

Because a Van full of illegals

plowed into a bridge abutment this morning.

And I'm under-staffed.

I won't know which one of these is yours

until I start processing them.

Well, how long is that gonna take?

As long as it takes.

Well, work quickly.

Frankie, Felicia. Look, come on.

Where is he?

Come back inside.

Is my boy in one of these bags?

Excuse me, sir, you cannot--

hey, you can't-- okay, okay.

Where's my boy?

Where's my boy?!

Okay, Frankie, please. Please stop this.

Frankie, stop it! Stop it!

Get off me.

Felicia.

Felicia.

Felicia.

Oh, my god. Felicia.

Oh, god. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Frankie, wait.

Frankie!

Frankie...

Frankie!

Frankie, wait!

What, what do you want?!

Don't "what" me.

I know you. I know what you're thinking.

Oh, congratulations.

You're the amazing freakin' Kreskin.

No idea who that is, but listen to me.

If you go off gunning for whoever did this,

you're gonna blow your whole plea agreement.

Did you just see my boy in there?

I know, Frankie. I know.

I'm so sorry.

But Felicia needs you now.

Okay, please.

Please, go take care of her.

I swear to you,

you'll get your justice.

You got 24 hours.

After that, I take matters into my own hands.

And to hell with this plea.

Frankie--

as far as justice,

you've got your version, I've got mine.

What are you doing here?

I work here, Stan.

Why aren't you helping Mary move Frankie nuts?

She wanted me here doing this.

And you thought it was okay

to let her handle that sick bastard by herself?

Her witness, her call.

It how we do, g.

If anything happens to her--

relax.

Mary knows what she's doing.

So'd you get her a birthday present?

I'm working her case.

You don't think that's enough?

You're not that dumb.

I'm smart enough to know

you can't shop for Mary.

What about you?

Oh, well, I just got her a...

Bottle of really expensive perfume.

Mary doesn't wear perfume.

Yes, she does.

Nuh-uh.

You sure?

I mean, she always smells so good.

That's just her.

Huh.

The care and feeding of career criminals,

like Frankie nuts, is a dicey proposition at best.

On any given day, I get to play

mother, father,

best friend, priest, rabbi, marriage counselor,

and yes, unfortunately,

occasionally homicide detective.

Which is why I find myself driving

my misogynist metaphor across the desert

with a busted air conditioner

to hunt down the murderer of the son

of my murderer witness.

No backup. No plan to speak of.

No alternative.

Also, Frankie junior got killed on my watch.

That just pisses me off.

nice chaps.

Aw.

Write down your customers' names.

I've never seen these people before.

Listen.

Here's the deal--

two kids were killed about a mile from here,

and at least a few of these guys

were at the murder site.

So please,

save us both a lot of trouble

and just write the damn names

before great white father back in Washington

goes all little bighorn on your ass.

You're kidding me, right?

Was that over the top?

Look, first of all, it was you guys

that got your asses kicked

at little bighorn.

Really?

And second of all,

today's my first day of work here.

And I have really never seen these people before.

Sorry.

Thought you were being difficult.

Excuse me.

Whew!

Good lord.

What is it with men's restrooms?

Do you all like the smell of stale urine?

Is that what it is?

Okay, enough chit-chat.

What's your name?

And did you kill those two kids?

I'm sorry.

Are you talking to me?

Aw.

What's so funny?

Well, it's so cute.

It's like one of those mini-taquitos

they serve at happy hour.

Oh, yeah? You want some?

Ew.

Manly, yes, but I like it too.

Now, what do you say you answer my questions

before I drag you outta here

by your surprisingly small wee-wee.

Okay. Okay.

My name is George Parker.

And no, I didn't kill those two kids.

So what were you doing there this morning, George?

Pulling up surveyor's stakes,

hassling workers.

What's your beef with the project?

Same old story.

Indians getting their land ripped off

for commercial development.

Huh.

So killing the developer's daughter

sounds like pretty good payback.

Maybe.

Except the developer isn't the one

that screwed us out of the land.

Huh?

Talk to a dude named Edwin talltrees.

He's the guy that ripped us off.

An Indian?

That's right.

Why would he kill two kids on his own land?

Because it isn't his land anymore.

After he screwed us,

the dead girl's father screwed him.

Sounds like a lot of screwing going on.

Uh-huh.

All right, then, George,

you can zip it up.

Sorry about the small wee-wee crack.

It's been a bitch of a day.

That is one special guy.

God, I hope he calls.

Apparently, ripping off your own people

has its upside.

Wish I had people to rip off.

Can I help you? Hi.

Mary Shannon with the U.S. marshals.

You Edwin talltrees? I am.

All right.

Must be a bitch getting pizza delivered up here.

Hi.

Have a seat.

Thanks.

I suppose you're here about Sienna Burke

and that boy.

Why would you suppose that?

It's no secret Cale Burke and I

had a dispute about that specific piece of land.

You'd be remiss not to question me.

God knows I hate being remiss.

What can you tell me about the murders?

I'm curious.

Why is the U.S. marshal service

interested in a local murder?

Hey.

Here's an idea.

Since I'm the one wearing the badge

and you're the murder suspect,

how 'bout we stick to me asking the questions?

All right.

Cale Burke and I attended Stanford together.

I stood up for him at his wedding.

I was at the hospital the day Sienna was born.

She and my son Kyle played together

every day...

Until they went off to different private schools.

I would give anything,

everything,

to bring her back.

What else?

Where were you last night?

Here.

With Kyle.

Watching the karate championships

on pay-per-view.

We're both students of tae kwan do.

Get much call for that in real estate?

Is there anything else, marshal?

Is Kyle available?

I'd rather you didn't speak to Kyle.

He's very upset about Sienna.

Would you rather I take him in for questioning?

Kyle,

come down here, please.

Okay.

Ahh.

Yummy.

Kyle.

This is marshal Shannon.

She wants to ask you about Sienna.

Okay.

I understand you were good friends.

Were.

Since dad and uncle Cale

had their disagreement,

we weren't allowed to see each other anymore.

Did you know the boy she was with?

Uh-uh.

I just heard he went to her school.

Can you think of anyone who would want

to do this to Sienna?

Everybody loved her.

She was like...

Well, you just couldn't help it, you know?

Is that enough?

Sure.

Just one more thing.

Where were you last night?

I was here with my dad

watching the karate championship.

That's what I thought.

By the way, who won?

Edgar Sanchez. Edgar Sanchez.

I'm really sorry about your friend.

Yeah, it sucks.

Thanks.

I really wanted to turn around

and pop off one of those Columbo questions.

You know, the innocuous afterthought

that lets the killer know that I know he did it.

Excuse me,

do you always wear white shoes after labor day?

Unfortunately, I had no idea

if talltrees had anything to do with the murders.

And, more importantly, he wasn't wearing shoes.

As good as I am at sorting out

other people's lives--

you'll just have to take my word for it,

I'm really good--

that talent pales compared to my genius

for keeping my own life

in a constant state of turmoil.

I should have just let you walk from the airport,

you psycho whack-job.

Just give me-- just give me the keys.

A couple of years from now, you're just gonna be

another hairnet-wearin' cholo.

Just please give me my keys.

Are you gonna hit me?

No, but give me the keys.

Come on, hit me.

Enough. Enough.

Just give me my keys. Enough.

I've got enough going on without having to deal

with this b.S.

Mary, thank god you're here.

They've been like this for half an hour.

She stole my car.

You left me sitting in the middle of the ghetto.

Mary, please, would you do something

before the neighbors think

we're poor white trash?

Oh, obviously not you, Raphael.

God, my head is just splitting.

She's lucky I don't call the cops.

Raphael, she was scared.

Go ahead, you know what, call the cops.

I'll just tell them about that dime bag

I found in the center console.

It's not mine.

Dime bag of what?

You don't get high?

Is that what you're telling me?

I don't get high.

Okay, all right.

Both of you, stop it, stop it.

I don't know whose dope it is, and I don't care.

I want it out of here now.

I'm a U.S. marshal, for Christ's sake.

Ma, go inside and take some aspirin.

Brandi, give him his keys.

You better don't think that stuff is mine.

What kind of stuff?

"You better don't"?

Oh, god. It doesn't matter, Raphael.

No, the hell it doesn't.

You're taking her word over mine.

I'm not taking anybody's word.

What part of "I don't care whose it is"

is difficult for you?

Is this how you thank me

for taking time out of my day off

to pick up your psychotic sister?

You were supposed to drive her to my house,

not intentionally scare the crap outta her.

I had to stop at the youth center.

The scaring the crap out of her part

was just a bonus.

It's a juvenile prank that blew up in your face.

Then after she steals my car,

you don't even come and pick me up.

I was busy.

Why can't anyone get it through their heads?

I have a job.

Oh, that's right--

everybody's gotta make time in their day, but not Mary.

Cry me a river.

What did I pull you away from, an extra set of crunches?

Is that all you think I do?

No, sometimes I think you work on your lats.

Have a happy birthday.

I'm outta here. See ya.

You happy?

What, I already got rid of the stuff.

What's the big drama?

Oh, my god, Brandi, when are you gonna grow up

and stop making life miserable

for everyone around you?

Oh, come on.

You couldn't take an hour off

from serving warrants?

Or drinking coffee at the courthouse?

Or whatever the hell it is you do

to pick up your sister?

Okay, ma, I know you think Brandi's your precious baby.

She's not.

She's a virus, infecting everyone around her.

All right, that's enough.

As long as you keep propping her up and making excuses,

that's all she's ever gonna be.

God, would you stop it?

This is your baby sister--

now she's gonna cry,

and you're gonna tell her everything's okay.

And somehow, this is all gonna wind up my fault.

So if you don't mind,

I'm gonna skip the next part of the program.

I have to get back to whatever the hell it is I do.

Ugh!

Excuse me.

Just give me the damn keys.

You want 'em?

Yeah.

Go get 'em.

No! Don't touch me!

Get your hands off of me! Put me down!

You get out when I get the keys.

Up yours!

Oh, classy.

Marshall.

Hey, how's it coming?

Drips and drabs.

I tracked down the girl's best friend.

She's at work at Elsa Ross.

So she doesn't know?

Either that or she's got a great work ethic.

All right, I'm on my way.

Tread lightly.

Hey, give me a little credit.

Oh, god.

I can't believe she's dead.

I'm so sorry.

And I can't believe you tried on clothes

before telling me.

Yeah, again,

I'm really sorry.

Thought it would help ease into it.

I can see now that was a mistake.

I don't know anyone

who would do anything like this.

All my friends are really nice.

What about Frankie?

Did he have any enemies?

I don't know.

He was new.

How long had he and Sienna been going out?

They weren't going out.

Sienna was just being nice to him.

He was a virgin.

So she was gonna...

You know.

That is nice.

Sienna was like that.

Okay. Okay.

Is there anyone we should talk to?

Anyone you'd want to talk to if you were me?

She had a boyfriend.

I'd want to talk to him.

Okay, good.

He was this big secret.

And I mean, really big.

She wouldn't even tell me what he looked like,

and she told me everything.

Did she tell you anything about him?

Anything at all?

Just that he made her get this stupid tattoo.

You mean the one on her chest?

Over her heart.

So how come she was with Frankie?

I mean, if she had

this secret boyfriend and all?

'Cause they broke up, like, a month ago.

Did I forget to mention that?

Yeah.

You kinda did.

I'm sorry.

It's okay. I'm sorry.

Before you hear it from somebody else,

I smacked an Indian's Johnson with a bar of soap today.

Just thought you should know.

Haven't we done enough to those people?

I'm not proud of myself.

Did you come up with anything?

Not really.

Oh, except that two days ago

a three-second call came into santoro's house

from a cell registered to Richie mastro.

Richie mastro, son of Dominic mastro.

Don of dons, head of the five families,

called my Frankie?

Yes, Fredo.

You sure?

You know, it hurts when you doubt me.

All right, let's go.

Now where?

Frankie nuts has got some 'splaining to do.

Do I get to play bad cop?

Like you could.

Oh, damn.

What's the matter?

Hi, Tasha. It's me, Mary.

Is your cable on yet?

Good.

No, we can only pay for the basic package.

Hbo and showtime are extra.

Listen, about your groceries,

something's come up.

So what's the book on young Richie?

Well, for starters, you'd have to say

he's of questionable character.

Tossed out of choate, was he?

NYPD has him under investigation

for a handful of murders.

And of particular interest,

a former girlfriend got a restraining order against him

after he broke four of her ribs.

Then, guess what, two days later

she turns up hacked to bits.

No.

Afraid so.

Apparently, our boy's got girl issues.

And likes knives.

So he does junior,

then has his jollies with the girl?

Could be.

Somehow he got Frankie's number.

So it would seem.

Son of a bitch.

A week before he testifies against Dominic.

I bet you anything Frankie was trying to broker a deal.

You know what I think? What?

I think Frankie might have been trying to broker a deal.

You're an idiot.

Where are the people who were staying here?

La gente, a donde estan?

Damn it, what language do you speak?

Oh, perfect, she's deaf.

You have a pen?

They're gone.

She doesn't know where.

What?

Come on.

You calling in a phone trace?

That'll take hours.

Get a warrant, blah, blah, blah.

I need to find mastro before he finds Frankie,

or vice versa.

Since when do you know sign language?

Apparently I don't.

Hello?

Hello, is this Richie?

You gotta be kidding.

Yeah, who's this?

This is nomi.

I don't know if you remember,

me and my girlfriend pia met you

at cosmo's a few weeks ago.

Maybe, I meet a lot of chicks.

What's up?

Well, pia and I were just talking

about how much fun it was to hang out with you,

and how much we wanted to party with you that night.

And pia said we should just call you

and see what you was doing.

No way in hell this works.

Yeah, maybe some other time.

Oh. Oh!

Oh!

Pia.

What are you doing?

Please don't talk dirty.

Oh, Richie, I wish you could see this.

Me too.

What exactly is, uh, pia doing to you?

Well, first of all, I'm lying on my tummy,

and I'm wearing

this real short skirt.

And pia's taking her tongue

and running it all the way up my--

oy.

Oh!

Sweet mother.

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Ahh!

Ah!

Ahhhh.

She's talking to her mother.

Ohh.

Ahh.

Oh, Richie.

I want to do you like pia just did me.

Tell me where you are.

We'll come over in a cab.

That is, if you think you can handle both of us.

Listen, uh, romy--

nomi.

Okay, listen, nomi,

as much as I'd love to party with you and pia--

and trust me,

I got more than enough for both of you--

that's gonna be an awfully pricey cab ride.

Why's that?

'Cause I'm in Albuquerque, cupcake.

Albuquerque?!

Unbelievable.

How funny.

Some guy just invited me out there

to some balloon festival,

whatever the hell that is.

No kidding?

Some coincidence, right?

Hey, are there any decent places

to stay out there?

Yeah, they got one really nice resort

just outta town.

Golf, spa, the whole deal.

That sounds--

uh-oh, I think my husband just got home.

Honey, I'm home.

Mother Mary and Joseph,

what's going on here?

Where are your panties?

You bad, bad girl.

I gotta go.

I'll call you back.

That's just...

Nomi?

From showgirls.

Sweet.

Who is it?

Room service, Mr. Martell.

I have a fruit basket

compliments of the hotel.

Leave it by the door.

And a bottle of dom perignon.

I'm not allowed to leave it outside.

All right, hold on.

Pain in the ass.

Freeze!

Don't even fart.

My wallet's on the bar.

Take whatever you want.

We're not here to Rob you, you stupid hump.

We're U.S. marshals.

I didn't do nothing.

Oh, yeah?

Isn't that cute?

That ain't mine.

Where's Frankie?

Frankie who?

Santoro, where is he?

Frankie nuts, how the hell should I know?

Ahh, what are you, a nun?

Quit screwing with me.

I know your father sent you to kill him.

Now tell me where he is, or so help me

I will feed this ear to my mother's poodles.

I thought they were shih tzus.

Focus, Marshall.

Where the hell are you?

I thought I told you to stay put.

No, it isn't all right. Stay there.

I'm coming over.

Something's come up.

Be a dear and take him in.

Yes, honey.

Shall I pick up your dry cleaning

while I'm at it?

Take me in?

What for?

For ending an interrogatory with a preposition.

Hey, that's a $6 candy bar.

Put these on, and shut up.

Easy.

Hey.

Let me explain something to you.

When I tell you to stay someplace,

you stay there.

You can't just change locations

without telling me.

I don't have time to go chasing

all over hell and high water looking for you.

This goes for you, too, Felicia.

I needed to light a candle.

Listen, I know you two are hurting,

but this--

this is not how the program works.

We checked into the marriott.

The other place was too depressing.

The bedspreads had stains.

How does Richie mastro have your phone number?

What?

You heard me.

He called your house two days ago and hung up

like he was checking the number.

I know I didn't give it to him.

So who did?

Well, it certainly wasn't me.

I haven't contacted anybody.

Oh, god.

What?

Oh, god, did I get Frankie killed?

What? Tell us what you did, Felicia.

You stupid--

Shh!

What happened?

Have you been talking to someone?

No, no. No, I swear.

Not on the phone.

On the Internet.

Me and Cathy, we been emailing each other.

But I never told her where we were.

And I didn't give our number.

I swear on my life.

Who's Cathy?

It's mastro's wife.

They've been friends since grade school.

He must have found out,

and he tapped our isp.

Listen, Felicia, we don't know

that mastro had anything to do with this.

I killed my son.

Hey, don't do this to yourself.

You tell me where

that son of a bitch mastro is right now.

Oh.

Do we have anything to hold him on?

Tampering with a witness.

Maybe hampering a prosecution.

Yeah. What about the murder?

Unless something turns up, he walks in 48 hours.

Yeah, yeah, that's what I figured.

So, I, uh...

Returned the perfume.

Smart move.

And...

I got her these.

Wow.

I'll bet these set you back.

Oh, sure.

Very pretty.

So you think she'll like 'em?

Have you ever met Mary?

What? What? They're shoes.

All women love shoes. Mary's a woman.

Ipso facto, Mary loves shoes.

So sad.

No, no, okay, this time you're wrong.

Mary's gonna lo-- hey, guys.

Oh, my god.

That's just evidence-- evidence

from a case-- another case.

Can you believe women actually wear these?

"Oh, my god, look at me.

I'm a cosmo-drinking Manhattan whore."

Imagine that.

Not a word.

Anyone talk to him yet?

Yeah, the FBI's sending somebody down.

I need to talk to him first.

Just hang on a second, Mary.

All right, your witness is safe.

You did your job.

How 'bout we just let the FBI do theirs?

How 'bout we screw the FBI?

I need to know if mastro killed Frankie junior.

And you know as soon as the feds get here

we're out of the loop.

Am I right, Stan?

All right, do what you gotta do.

The feds show up, I'll deal with 'em.

All right then.

What are you gonna do,

beat them off with your strappy little pumps?

Wake up, douchebag.

Wish I had a nickel

for every time I heard that.

Why are you in Albuquerque?

Why are you busting my balls?

'Cause I can.

Now answer my question.

I bet you're a tight little ride.

Ooh, that was a mistake.

You little bitch.

Did you kill Frankie junior?

I assume that's a rhetorical question.

"Rhetorical."

That's a pretty big word for a moron.

Interesting interrogation technique.

Does the name calling thing usually get guys to confess?

'Cause frankly, I find it a little off-putting.

Oh, come on. Just tell me.

No one else has to know.

Are those real?

Go ahead, take a good long look.

'Cause it's the last pair you're ever gonna see.

And why's that, pussycat?

'Cause, Richie baby,

me and my friend pia would double-team dick Cheney,

if that's what it takes to put you away.

Did he do it?

Don't know.

So who's pia?

And what does dick Cheney have to do with this?

Hmm?

And why is it I never know what's going on?

You're a big picture guy, Stan.

Mm-hmm.

So this is where the real police work, huh?

Hey, marshal.

And may I add, happy birthday.

Yeah.

So far it's been a real pisser.

So you come up with anything interesting?

Oh, it's all interesting.

Spoke with the girl's parents, friends.

Checked the cell phone records.

According to Sienna's best friend,

she had a secret boyfriend.

Nobody's ever seen him.

Doesn't even get a mention in her diary.

So if there was a boyfriend,

the guy's a ghost.

Maybe it's someone older.

Needed protection?

Like a teacher, or maybe

an ex-business associate of her father.

Hey, you think just like a cop.

Go figure.

What about forensics?

Anything come in yet?

No, won't see anything until tomorrow.

I was just about to pack it in for the day.

That's probably a good idea.

Did you check out talltrees and his son?

Yeah, guy's a real piece of work.

Unfortunately, there's nothing to connect

him or his son to any of this.

Kinda what I got too.

So, uh, how 'bout you?

What can you tell me about the boy with two names?

I was supposed to interview his parents,

but guess what-- they're suddenly

nowhere to be found.

Huh, maybe they're on vacation.

Look, marshal,

I get it.

You operate under the cloak of darkness.

Only boy wonder knows your true identity.

But guess what,

I take this murder-solving business

pretty seriously.

So either share what you've got

or quit wasting my time.

Oh, and by the way,

took me all of two minutes to get on the phone

with an NYPD captain,

get the whole 411 on Frankie nuts.

So what's it gonna be?

Sorry.

I got nothing.

That's what I figured.

It's Mary's world.

The rest of us are just here for housekeeping.

Hey, you don't know me.

Really?

Let's see.

Typical relationship has a shelf life

of, oh, I'd say about a month tops.

No real friends.

Can't quite figure out why you're always

on the outside looking in.

No one "gets you."

But hey, that's their problem.

How am I doing?

That's real mature.

And she stole my damn pen.

Okay, it's been said I don't always

play well with others.

Maybe even at times

I project a prickly exterior.

But in response to that, and in my defense...

I have something to say.

Come in.

No, I still have work to do.

And we both know what'll happen if I come in.

Well, but it's, like, 112 out there.

This'll just take a minute.

Earlier at my house,

I may have given

the impression that I didn't believe you,

or that I wasn't appreciative of you picking up Brandi.

Is this an apology?

Please don't put words in my mouth.

I just want to clarify.

That is, um,

explain--

my god, it's hot out here.

Would you please come inside?

You're letting all the cool air out.

Okay, but just so I can explain.

Yeah.

Your explanations have--

have a certain je ne sais quoi.

Is that what I just did? Yeah.

I mean, I knew it was French.

I just didn't know they had a name for it.

Oh, they have a name for everything.

Oh, man.

I'm sorry about before.

I know.

Happy birthday.

Happy birthday.

Hey, would you be upset

if I skip your surprise party?

Uh, I don't know.

I guess not.

Why?

Well, truth, I kinda had my fill

of your family for one day.

And besides, you and me kinda

already did our thing.

You know?

Okay.

You want me to come?

No, I don't.

You should do what you want.

You don't care, huh?

No, I don't.

Like you said, we already did our thing.

When it comes right down to it,

I don't have a reasonable right to care.

Well, you're gonna have to explain that one.

This is what we do.

Raphael, this is our thing.

We have sex,

then we say good-bye, which is fine.

We're both smart enough to know we're never--

I don't have a reasonable right to care

what you do beyond this,

because this is as far as we go.

How can someone that burns so hot

be so cold?

I don't know, it's a great question.

Give me a call if you figure it out.

* you got the look

* and I was in crazy motion

We all live in hiding.

In one way or another,

each of us conceals pieces of ourselves

from the rest of the world.

Some people hide

because their lives depend on it.

Others because they don't like being seen.

And then there are those special cases--

the ones who hide because...

Because...

Because they just want someone to care enough

to look for them.

* when something goes right

* it's apt to confuse me

* oh, I can't

* something so right

Did you tell that homicide detective

today's my birthday?

What homicide-- who?

Forget it.

Maybe I should talk to mastro again.

I don't know.

You think the FBI

will let me take another crack at him?

If I can't I.D. the killer,

I need to at least start eliminating suspects.

You're gonna have a tough time eliminating mastro.

What's that mean?

20 minutes after you left,

the FBI showed up with DNA

on his dead girlfriend.

He agreed to flip on his family.

And they cut him a deal.

He's in the program.

Please tell me this is one of your unfunny jokes.

That's not the worst of it.

What?

Half hour ago, mastro walked out

the back door of the fed's safe house.

He's in the wind.

Oh, crap.

I told Frankie they could spend

one last night at home.

Come on, Frankie. Answer your damn phone.

Frankie?

Open up. It's me, Mary.

What are you doing?

Calling mastro.

Frankie,

open up!

All right. All right.

What?

Felicia, what are you doing?

Is this what you were expecting?

Because I, for one, am flabbergasted.

What's going on, Felicia?

Richie found out I was emailing Cathy,

and he came here to kill us all.

But I shot him.

I can see that.

Why are you pointing the gun at Frankie?

Because this bastard

ruined my whole life.

And now I'm gonna shoot him, too.

Okay, okay.

Well, you could do that.

But let's just think this through.

If you kill Frankie, I'm gonna have to kill you.

I don't care.

I have nothing to live for anymore.

Okay, look.

Here's the thing--

men lie, they cheat, they start wars.

They're slobs unless they're gay,

and there's precious few of them walking the planet

worth putting on lipstick for,

let alone throwing your life away.

Which is what you'll be doing

if you shoot your festering crap-bag of a husband.

Is that really necessary?

Shut up or I'll shoot you.

I can't live with him anymore.

Then don't. You don't have to.

Okay.

Felicia, as hard as it is to imagine,

you have days ahead of you

where you will smile and laugh

and look forward to things.

And maybe even fall in love again.

If you don't throw it all away.

I promise.

Oh, god.

It's okay.

Shh.

I'll catch up with you later.

So what's gonna happen to her?

Well, since she shot mastro in self-defense,

she'll probably get a new identity

and be moved someplace you can't find her.

You know, it's a hell of a thing--

losing your wife and your son

all in the same day.

Do you ever think about all the people, the families,

had days like this 'cause of you?

The clock's still ticking.

Either you get me a name by this time Tom--

actually, Frankie, name or no name,

this time tomorrow

you're on your way to a new city,

and out of my hair.

I'm sorry for your loss,

but screw you and your clock.

I just wanna wash the stench of this day off

and go to bed.

I know, but there are about 60 people in there

hiding behind furniture

just waiting for you to open the door

so they can jump up and yell "surprise."

Yuck.

Come on, it's your birthday.

This isn't about you.

Now get ready to act surprised.

All right, all right.

Let's get it over with.

That's my girl.

Surprise.

Oh, happy birthday, sweet pea.

Thanks, mom. Aww, you're welcome.

Whoop, okay.

How'd you keep this a secret?

Pfft.

You knew that I knew.

I knew that you knew.

At least that was a surprise.

I knew it would be.

Hey, Mary,

a little something for you.

Oh, Stan. I know, I got it.

Open it. Open it. Okay.

It's...

You gave her money?

It's just what I always wanted.

Thank you.

See? See that?

Is, um--

is Raph here?

No, I'm sorry.

That's okay. I told him not to.

What about Brandi?

She thinks you don't want her at your party.

I see.

You're gonna keep looking at me with those sad eyes

until I go talk to her, aren't you?

Mm.

I know you mean well.

But you're not a very good mother.

Oh.

I can't believe you gave her cash.

Huh...

This is a good party, huh?

Hey, squish,

what's going on?

Nothing.

You okay?

Yeah.

Okay, come here.

It's okay.

Come on.

Come on.

I'm so sorry I make your life so miserable.

Oh, god.

Listen to me.

You don't make my life miserable, okay?

I get frustrated sometimes.

You know, I want you to be happy.

And I want you

to stop doing stuff that hurts yourself

and makes you miserable.

That's all.

Come on.

Shh.

Stop.

Stop.

Come on.

Shh.

There's my pretty baby sister.

I got you something for your birthday.

Really?

Yeah.

You didn't have to.

I know, I know. I just wanted to.

Aww.

Wow.

It's an Indian talisman.

Or totem?

Maybe.

I forget which, but, um,

I got it from this Indian stand

after I took off with chico's car.

Raphael.

Right.

It's from the los lobos tribe.

Sweetie,

los lobos is a band.

A band of Indians?

No, just a band.

Oh, well, anyway, it means:

May you always sleep under the tall trees, so...

That's nice, right?

That's really nice.

So you like it?

I like it.

I like it a lot.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Listen, I have to go do something,

but when I come back,

I want to talk, okay?

Okay.

Okay.

Okay, here's how I think we should proceed.

Open up, talltrees!

I think I'll just stand here with my thumb up my ass

while you start shouting like a crazy person.

After a while it becomes charming.

What is all this?

What happened?

Sienna get tired of sleeping under the tall trees?

You think I was having an affair with Sienna?

Not only is that disgusting,

it's slander.

And you had better be very careful with your--

excuse me. Do you mind?

Go ahead.

Edwin talltrees,

I have a warrant to search this property

for any and all evidence relating to the murder

of Francis amato junior and Sienna Burke.

Please step outside.

Wait.

What?

Look.

At what?

Oh.

Stop right there.

Don't come any closer. I swear I'll--

what?

Kick the stool out?

Please.

Let me.

Hey, what are you doing?

So after spending

almost their entire lives together,

Sienna Burke broke up with Kyle

because she couldn't tell her friends

she was with an Indian.

She broke his heart.

So he cut out hers.

It almost seems fair.

Thanks for the call.

It's your case.

U.S. marshals have a long history

of cooperating with local law enforcement.

Uh-huh.

After all I've done to get us off the reservation,

to give my son the same opportunities as the whites,

they still treat him like a redskin.

But he won't be tried like one.

Whatever.

I've got white man's money,

a white man's lawyer,

and I promise you--

my son won't spend a day in prison.

Hey, chuckles.

Your son's a monster.

He gutted Sienna Burke

while she was still alive,

and he needs to be put down.

But guess what,

he's not the only monster on the block.

Not by a long shot.

Prison or no prison,

tomorrow morning the very worst of those monsters

is coming for him.

So good luck with your white man's defense.

Let me know how that works out for you.

Oh, and you might want to think about

adding a little security for yourself.

Hey, hey, hey.

She seeing anyone?

Oh, crud.

Hi.

You're awake.

Da.

I didn't want to miss my groceries.

Sorry.

I got hung up.

Is this what you mean when you say,

"I be back a little later"?

I wish to know for future.

No, I'm usually very prompt.

I--i--

something happened.

Anyway, it's late. And here's your groceries.

You bring me porno.

To help you pick out your new breasts.

See, all different shapes and sizes.

My name is Mary.

Today's my birthday.

And if I ever

run into the son of a bitch that promised me

a life of excitement and unlimited opportunity

as a U.S. marshal,

I'll shoot off both his kneecaps.