All language subtitles for Homicide.Life.On.The.Street.S02E01.DVDRip.XviD-VF

It must be difficult for you
as the only woman in Homicide.

It must have some affect
on your attitude toward men.

Um...

Most of the people who kill are men.

And most of the people
who get killed are men.

I'm surrounded by men solving crimes
by men against men.

So... you're exposed
to the worst aspects of men?

The worst that men are capable
of doing, of being.

And then I'm supposed to date
one of them. Have a relationship.

I'm seeing this...

...guy now. He's a sweetheart.
He's a gentleman.

He's a State's Attorney.

We'll be out to dinner and he's telling
a joke and I'm supposed to laugh. I do.

But in my head, I'm thinking,
you know, an hour ago,

I saw two guys who knifed each other
in a sports bar over a bet.

Over the Superbowl.

And I look at Ed and I...

That's his name, Ed.

I think, is that you? Could you...

...knife someone in cold blood
over the Superbowl?

- It puts a damper on the evening.
- You better believe it.

Sensitivity training?

We don't need a bigger budget,
we need a New Age pep rally!

Will we be in a room for eight hours
and can't go to the bathroom?

- That's called Yom Kippur.
- Why now, Gee?

It was all in my memos.
Don't you guys read my memos?

The police needs to be more sensitive to
people on the street and to each other.

I don't know. I'm far too sensitive as it is.

You will have a one-on-one session
with Miss Weston.

She'll hold group workshops and
seminars, all of which are mandatory.

Attendance will be taken.

That means everyone.

Where's your tie?

I aimed my memo especially at you,
Stanley.

I feel like my head is going to blow off.

You have a bad attitude. You have this
thing about department programmes.

I'm allergic to idiocies and foolishness.

I want you to meet with Miss Weston.

I don't care if there is a red ball,
or if Jack the Ripper, Bonnie and Clyde

and the Terminator are stalking the city,
killing nuns and orphans.

Be at your session, Stanley.
Am I understood?

- Lieutenant!
- Be at your session.

I want to believe there is a new you
somewhere inside.

I really liked "What do you
say when 'I love you' isn't enough?"

- I thought it was a remarkable book.
- That's very kind.

Most of those books, I can't stand them.
They're too clinical, too pompous.

I wanted to stay away from
as much psychobabble as possible,

to put what I needed to say
in everyday language.

Yes! Yeah, it's funny.

I was thinking
about the exact same issues as you

when your book came out.

I think you have your finger on the pulse

of what's going on
inside those of us with high-stress jobs.

It was a Book Of The Month Club
alternate selection.

I'm jealous, you see that?
I'm jealous!

I'm also... I'm inspired.

See, ever since you wrote this book,
I've just been jotting down

a few occasional thoughts
and reflections for myself.

They're not nearly as insightful as yours,
but as you say in your book,

"trying is knowing and not trying
is trying not to know."

- I didn't write that.
- Yeah, you did.

No, I didn't.

Who did?

I don't know.

Damn! But you did write, "What do you
say when 'I love you' isn't enough?"

- I did write that.
- OK.

Then it really doesn't matter
what I say because

it's still a brilliant book.

I'll go back and read it again
and I won't forget.

I just thought that you were
who I thought you were, but you're not.

That's my mistake, isn't it?

What do you like in your coffee?

Er... Do they serve tea?

To me, the sea was everything.

I couldn't wait till I turned 17
so that I could sign up.

That's my ship. That's my first ship.

The USS John W Brown.

Freighter out of the old Bethlehem-
Fairfield shipyard over on South Clinton.

This is when, World War Two?

No, I missed the war by a year.

We brought a lot of troops home,
though.

It's time for your medicine, Dad.

I'm in the middle of a conversation here,
if you don't mind.

She was a great ship.
She could do 76rpm

and make... make 11 knots.

- Is that good?
- Good.

- She was the queen of the freighters.
- Dad.

I don't want them pills.

I don't need the damn pills.
And you know it.

Mr Prentice, if you don't take your pills,
the doctors will blame my pal Chuckie.

No, they won't.
I've fired them. All of them.

And the nurses too.

I got one doctor now.

Joe Margolis.

That's all I need.

I don't have time to argue with you,
Admiral.

I gotta get back to Homicide.

You know, I always liked you, Beau.

I'll see you in a week or so, OK?

Goodbye, Beau.

Goodbye.

'Thanks for coming by.'

- Chuckie, what's going on?
- Huh?

Your old man fires all his doctors,
now he won't take his pills.

Who's this Dr Margolis guy?

He's another in a long line of doctors.

You never were a very good liar.

I...

I'm not telling you unless
you swear you won't tell him I said.

I swear.

My dad...

He's decided to kill himself.

Hey, Munch.

You ever known
a crime was about to be committed?

- Excuse me?
- You know what I'm saying.

By the time we get there,
the body is cold.

The crime could be hours old, days old.

Yeah, so?

Have you? Where you knew a crime
was about to be committed?

Like a psychic event?

Why is it when a guy leaves five drops
of coffee in the bottom of the pot,

he thinks he's immune
from brewing a fresh pot of coffee?

Sorry.

How would you know?
Like a threat, you mean?

Not exactly a threat.

I mean, everybody is looking
to duck something!

I said I was sorry! More like an intention.

Arrest everyone with that intention, there
wouldn't be a husband free in Baltimore.

When you go in the john, there's always
one piece of toilet paper on the roll!

Some guy thinks if he didn't
technically finish it,

he's not responsible for replacing it!

Society is based on technicalities.
It's a hallmark of late capitalism.

- Same thing with milk!
- Stan... I am brewing more coffee.

I open the refrigerator. There is
one drop of milk left in the carton.

Who has to go to the 7-11
and replace the milk?

- Me.
- That's besides the point.

He does it on my behalf.
He could do something else for me.

Do you have a case where
someone's intending to kill someone?

No, I was just making conversation.

Detective Bolander, I believe
we're scheduled to meet next.

For our initial one-on-one session.

Honestly, it's not painful.

You say whatever's on your mind,
I listen.

Gives me a chance to get to know you.

- I'm sorry, lady, I can't.
- Why not?

Cos we just got a call.
We gotta go solve a murder.

- That's still our function around here.
- All right, when can we reschedule?

I'll get back to you.

I'm twice-divorced.

Not once, twice.

I'm still here, still kicking,
still in love with women.

Still believe in the possibilities of love.

And Felicia, she's my lucky star.

How many beautiful women do you
know who own a library card?

You got me on that one.

Felicia has one.

Do you know how sexy
it is to discuss things,

to have a genuine give-and-take,
intelligent conversation

with a woman these days?

Are you sure none of this goes down
on my official record, huh?

- Does any of this go down?
- I don't take notes.

- I want you to take notes.
- I'm just here to listen.

I want you to take notes. Know why? I
want there to be some official testimony.

Centuries from now,
millenniums down the road,

I want there to be a book,
a page that reads,

"John Munch, Damaged
But Still He Played The Piccolo."

You know what I'm saying?
Should I be on a couch for this?

I'm not a psychiatrist.

I forgot.

Go on about Felicia.

See this stomach? Flat as a board.
Hard as stone.

No one single sit-up.

Hard sex.

Wild, abandoned, unleashed passion.

Felicia understands. She gets it.
She reads.

So then why are you so angry at her?

Angry? Haven't you been listening?
I said Felicia and I are kindred spirits.

OK? Minnie and Mickey.
Ginger and Fred.

Leonora Carrington and Max Ernst.

And you see right through me,
don't you?

You're the big E on the eye chart.

The cancer only gets worse.
This Dr Margolis... He is a doctor.

He's got a machine.
He says it's like going to sleep.

- Maybe there is something.
- There is nothing else.

They did radiation, surgery,
chemotherapy, everything.

It's against the law, Chuckie.

Helping a suicide isn't
against the law in Maryland.

Not yet. But the courts are just waiting
to make an example of someone.

Want to be that guy
and spend your life in the pen?

The doctor said
nobody ever got prosecuted.

You trust him? I checked out
this Dr Margolis character.

He's a pathologist. That's one step
above trimming lamb chops.

My dad's in pain, Beau.

If he's in that much pain,
he doesn't know what he wants.

You know him, Beau.
He's still the Admiral.

Remember the first time
you called him that?

He still acts like he's in the navy.

Barking orders and...

No.

I can't turn back.

Chuckie.

Growing up in Billytown, I used to come
and see you in your big, beautiful house.

Your mum always dressed up
and your dad so tough and cool.

You had a cleaning lady, for Pete's
sake. I'd never seen anything like it.

I don't know. I just...
I always felt like I had to protect you.

Be your bodyguard.

Those days are over, man.

Do you think I can protect you
with Dr Margolis on the 11:00 news

and the front page of The Sun?

I'm a cop. Not even a very good cop.

I can't protect you any more.

It's time.

- What the hell are you doing here?
- Dad, I'm taking the machine away.

No, no, no, you got no say in this matter.

Dad, I'm not letting you do this.

What are you doing there? You leave
that alone. You put that back.

Dad, he's taking it away.

Chuck, we agreed.

Dad, I know you're in a lot of pain, but...

You don't know nothing.

You think I want to lie here like this?

Lie in this bed, dying, like this,

with no semblance of human dignity,
is that what you think?

- This is your doing.
- Chuckie asked me for my advice.

I didn't.

Look, Mr Prentice.

I've been doing some quick research.

There are programmes,
places you can go, hospices.

- Programmes and hospices!
- To ease you into your natural...

For a guy like me.

You miserable bastards.

This cancer is making me sick but not
near sick as looking at the two of you.

Now, get out of here.
Go on, get the hell out of here.

Get out!

- OK, fellas. Who's gonna fill me in?
- I am.

- Tyron. Jimmy Tyron.
- Lieutenant. The kid have a name?

Charles Courtland Cox. Nicknamed CC.

Local cheap-chain,
small-time drug peddler.

He probably got that wound
when he hit the concrete.

Did you retrieve Mr Cox's gun?

He didn't have one. We haven't found it.

- He was shot in the back.
- We raided a crack house.

A bunch of us took off
after the ones trying to escape.

I came around this corner. I found
the kid lying right where you see him.

- Is this a police-involved shooting?
- I don't know for certain, but...

Fred Hellriegel, one of my guys. He
stumbles and falls and his gun goes off.

Accidentally. We think
that's probably how the kid got hit.

OK.

If he was shot in the back,
how come he's lying face up?

You second my scepticism.

OK. Start canvassing the crowd.

See if anybody saw anything.

This crowd?

Yeah, and... Santa reads every letter.

How do you spell "receipt"?

I before E except after C.

There's a C in "receipt"?

Like Carrie Weston says,
it's the genius of God.

He planned it so the species
would propagate, no matter what.

If humankind had to depend upon
the perfect curve of a woman's back,

candlelight,
the romantic bonding of two soulmates,

we'd wind up like the dinosaurs.

She says, put a guy out there who likes
to wear a corset, something will stick.

She said that, huh?

My conversation with her
was enlightening and breathtaking.

- I'll bet.
- No, really.

Did you know that 40% of all men
like to wear women's clothing?

- Not in my neighbourhood.
- Not in San Francisco or London.

- I'm talking about regular guys.
- What are you trying to say?

- Come on!
- How many guys in this unit?

Do the math. That's like, 20 guys.

Giardello?

He could be wearing a bikini thong,
I wouldn't know.

- This is ridiculous.
- Maybe Lewis.

- Lewis?
- The 40% must come from somewhere.

What?

Go on, Officer Hellriegel,
you were chasing this kid.

I don't know if this is the kid.

My partner and me were in pursuit
from the raid on this rock house.

- Your partner, Ryan?
- Yeah, Jerry Ryan.

- Thanks.
- And I fall.

Kind of like on... something, anyway.

I fall, my weapon is discharged.

- One shot?
- Yes, one shot.

But you didn't see the bullet
hit the kid, right?

I thought that it probably hit the asphalt,
you know.

I didn't think anything was wrong.
I'd lost sight of him.

And then the next thing I know,
Lieutenant Tyron is calling me over

and the hopper's dead.

OK, good, now let me ask you
another question.

When you fell down,
did you fall down straight?

I mean, did you break
the fall with both hands or one?

- One hand.
- You right-handed?

Yes.

You brace yourself with your right hand,

even though you have your weapon
in your right hand?

I was in pursuit.

- I don't remember.
- You fell down on your knees?

I must have.

It happened really fast.

Now, at this time of night, your partner
and you, Jerry and you,

you were coming off dinner break
when you answered this call?

No, why?

You wouldn't happen to have anything
at dinner, with dinner, a beer or two?

No, I know the regulations on alcohol.

OK, I fell. I don't know why.

If you don't mind, I would like
to inventory your pants.

What? What is this?

Look, this is no big deal. I just need
your pants inventoried, all right?

- What, you don't think I fell?
- I think you fell. I don't know where.

OK... OK. You want my pants?

Then I want a lawyer.
I want my union lawyer.

- Look, come on, come on.
- No!

No, look, what difference does it make?

I fall, I don't fall. Either way,
I'm gonna get my ass handed to me.

- I am not Internal, I am not the judge.
- Right.

I just need to know for myself
and I don't know.

You don't know? I'm done talking.

- This is...
- No.

Perhaps I'm not being articulate.

So I want to put this
as simply as I know how.

Stanley, unless you meet
with Carrie Weston tonight...

...I have no other choice
but to suspend you without pay.

Suspend you.

Is that clear, Stanley?

Very clear.

Extremely clear, Lieutenant.
Consider me suspended.

If you're gonna pee in my brains, do me
the decency of lifting the toilet seat.

Gee, Pembleton, line one.

Dad, how about some dinner?

No.

Come here, son. Please, come here.

There's a gun over there in that bureau.
I want you to get it for me.

- Dad, what are you talking about?
- There's a lad, now.

- Go get it now.
- Dad... I...

Just get it.

- Where did you get this?
- Chuck, I want you to do it.

Do it? Do what?

No way.

Take your pills. Did you take your pills?

I don't need any pills.

I'm gonna die tonight.
Just do it, Chuck.

No. Look, it's wrong.

- Please just help me.
- Daddy...

Just do it.

Why don't you do it? Here.

If that's what you want, you do it.

I don't know if I have the guts.

I'm alone here.

And I hurt.

Daddy.

Oh, Daddy.

The son said he's been despondent
and he's been in a lot of pain.

- There's no note.
- Maybe he's not the literary type.

How many individuals do you know
shoot themselves in the forehead?

- It happens.
- Without contact?

It also happens some sons don't
want to pay their fathers' medical bills.

- It's the old man's gun.
- The bullets don't know that.

There's no signs of a struggle here.
There's no missed shots.

There's something fishy going on here,
Crosetti.

- What's the son's name?
- His name is Chuckie Prentice.

So why don't we take Chuckie Prentice
down and we GSR him?

You're just being sadistic. You want
to make this a murder to tick me off.

You want a cheese stick. We take
him down, check for gunpowder residue.

- Then we'll be done with it.
- Forget about Chuckie.

Check out those three hobos
hiding behind the grassy knoll!

It's a suicide, Meldrick.

Please, stay behind the line.

Anybody see anything?

- Not that they're telling.
- The bullet?

- Haven't found it yet.
- No one heard a gun go off?

None of the uniforms?
15 guys and no one heard a gunshot?

I relieved Hellriegel of his weapon.
It had only been fired once.

The buttons on Cox's shirt are torn.

See that? The threads
are still frayed straight out.

Buddy boy was being yanked
around by somebody.

Check Cox's hand for fibres. I want you
to get Hellriegel's pants and shirts, OK?

I want to talk to Hellriegel and I want
the both of you in my office in one hour.

Got it?

Why am I starting to be very happy
that you're the primary on this?

- Munch.
- I'm not here to talk to you.

- Barkeep.
- What can I get you?

Hemlock. My life is over.

I've lost my partner.
I don't want to be a detective any more.

I've considered other possible partners
but none works out for me.

There's no one who can insult the way
I dress or the way I drive.

The way I eat. My politics.
My handwriting.

My posture. My health.
My brand of toothpaste.

But he's suspended.
This all could have been avoided.

All my partner had to do was go visit
with this really very nice woman.

He would under any other situation.

But the department makes it mandatory
so he's gotta make a stand.

He thinks he's standing on principle
but what he's doing is ruining my life!

- Munch.
- So what's left for me?

I'll go to the rainforest to save trees.

Maybe I'll practise
prayer and abstinence.

Save the poor souls in India.

Maybe I'll buy a used van and drive
across this great country of ours.

Wherever it breaks down, I'll open
the doors and put on puppet shows.

Or maybe I'll become clinically
depressed and shrivel up and die.

Life is simple. Homicide is hell.

What I wouldn't do for a Viking
funeral now to cheer me up.

Munch, I will keep the appointment.
I will see her tonight.

You know what?
Don't do me any favours.

He a friend of yours?

Worse, he's my rabbi.

- What the hell happened?
- He shot himself.

- He shot himself?
- Yeah.

Sit down.

How far was the gun from his head?

I don't know.
However far he would hold a gun.

- I wasn't there.
- Chuckie, I know. They know.

Does a fish know water? We're
swimming in frigging lies every day.

The only question
is how much can they prove?

How close were you
when you shot him?

It's a murder!

Seems to me you GSR... Prentice, you
find residue on his hands, you'll know.

I won't wait for the test. By the time we
get it back from the lab, it'll be a month.

I wanna get this guy now.

Maybe I should go to prison, Beau.

Chuckie, do you think
that what you did is right?

Yeah.

His life was over.
He wasn't the man he was any more.

Stick to your story.

The old man shot himself. That's
all you say, that's all you know, OK?

You're under no obligation to make
this interesting. He shot himself.

- What you doing in there?
- Nothing.

- What were you doing in there?
- Just messing with him.

- Yeah?
- Yeah, that's all.

Mr Prentice. We've got a problem here.

The medical examiner found
a spent.38 slug in Cox's clothing.

We're checking to see
if it matches Hellriegel's gun.

- The bullet struck Cox.
- Accidentally.

He lived long enough to stumble into
the middle of the alley where he died.

- At least, that's the theory.
- What's Hellriegel saying?

Nothing. His union lawyer says
that if ordered, he'll submit a report

that explains his actions, but other
than that, he's not saying a word.

- So order him!
- We can't.

A direct order isn't voluntary and
therefore can't be introduced in court.

- If he's guilty, we can't get a conviction.
- A conviction?

Hellriegel has no prior record
of excessive force.

What we are talking about here
is an accident.

- Then why won't he talk?
- Because you scared him, Frank.

- You sledge hammered him, as usual.
- OK, look, wait.

- Maybe we'll get lucky, ride this out.
- What do you mean?

We'll wait a few days, see how
the press and the community react.

If no one gets crazy,
we let it go, but I'm telling you,

if they start screaming racism,
police brutality,

we'll have to nail Hellriegel
to the cross.

Let me get this straight.
What you're saying is, accident or not,

Hellriegel would go to jail.

If not, some storefront activist will be
yelling departmental cover-up!

- I will not be a party to this!
- Please, Al.

- Don't climb up on that high horse.
- I want you to pursue the case aggres...

If this blows up, I want you
ready with the facts.

Every report you had into Giardello,
I want copied to me,

to the Colonel here
and the Deputy Commissioner.

Yes, sir!

That's it.

- The old man killed himself.
- We got that part.

Where were you?

- Downstairs.
- Downstairs?

What were you doing downstairs?

He killed himself.
That's all you know.

That's all I know?

- I mean, that's all I know.
- Chuckie.

What's going on here?

The old man killed himself.

I'm just gonna pull the string
on the back of your neck.

- "The old man killed himself..."
- The old man killed himself.

What the hell's going on here?

You know, I think I need to go have
a conversation with a friend of ours.

Don't you ever tamper
with one of my suspects.

I told you, I was messing with him.

- Just trying to help, huh?
- Meldrick, go to hell.

- I'm not finished with you.
- Don't be an ass.

You know him, don't you?
You do, don't you?

Keep your hands off me.

Don't you lie to me.

You lie to me, you're gonna be looking
for your teeth in that toilet. The truth!

It's what the old man wanted.

Harry Prentice
was hard before he got sick.

Why should he die crapping his bed
with tubes sticking in him?

- It don't matter who pulled the trigger.
- It ain't up to you!

It ain't up to you, it ain't up to Chuckie,
it ain't even up to Chuckie's father, man.

You go when you're supposed to go.

If that part's not up to you,
what the hell is?

You go when you're supposed to go
and everything else is homicide.

Intervention in the death
of another person is homicide, Beau.

I hate that Chuckie killed
his father, OK,

but there's nothing I can do
about that except help my friend,

who has to live with what he did
every day for life.

You know what you want me to do?

I can't do it, Beau.

I can't do it and I won't do it,
even if I wanted to.

I'm asking you to look the other way.
The ballistics are inconclusive.

He sticks with his story, they can never
pin this on him except for the GSR.

I gotta bring him in here, give him a can
of Ajax and let him wash his hands.

It'll go down in the books as a suicide,
Harry's name comes off the board.

Come back later!

You could do this, couldn't you?

You could!

Cos it will be easy for you.

You think it was easy for me
to ask you?

Margie went to a seminar,
Revisit Your Spirituality.

Find Your Third Ear...

She tells me we're in trouble, she wants
marriage counselling. I say OK.

I lay out the money, we meet as
a couple, we meet as individuals.

We take the dog along to one session.

We talk about touching,
we talk about feeling,

we talk about talking.

And then this 30-year-old, snot-faced,
crystal-sucking... counsellor...

...tells her, behind my back,
she's gonna have to leave me

if she's gonna find herself.
Her inner self... Her... inner ear.

So that's what Margie did.

She left me, went to Los Angeles.

I could've told her to go find herself.
I didn't need somebody to tell her that.

But she's gone and I'm out $7,000.

Seven... thousand... dollars.

- Detective...
- If you people are so good,

give a money-back guarantee,
like they do with a muffler job.

You know?
Come in for marriage counselling.

Either you save the marriage
or give the money back. $7,000!

I'm sorry.

What's that supposed to be?
Some kind of appeasement?

That doesn't work.
I'm at war with you and your kind.

$7,000's worth.

- You were wronged.
- She didn't tell me she'd thought of it!

About leaving me.

Your wife made a mistake

not to include you
in making that decision.

I... Well...

Margie's a hell of a woman.

When I think about it and get past
the idea of blowing all that money,

I don't blame her,
she was looking for an adventure.

It wasn't going to be with me.

We all want adventures, don't we?

She shouldn't have left in that way.

No, she shouldn't. You're right.

But, Stanley, your anger
isn't about money.

It isn't even about Margie.

It's about you.

No, it's about the money.

This is about how Margie could trust
someone else's advice over yours.

This is about you.

This is about how somebody took away
something very vital to who you are.

You're not getting it.

No, it's about the money.

- I want some kind of restitution.
- I think you deserve it.

- You do?
- I do.

You know, you're not so bad.

We will now take you down to the lab

where we will administer a test
on your hands for gunpowder residue.

Let's go, Chuckie.

You look like hell.

You should get washed up before we go.
Detective Felton will show you.

You're the primary on this one, man.

Why is she gonna give us this test?

What is this, some sort
of a psychological profile, right?

It's 20 multiple-choice questions.

- What's it worth to you?
- What? What, the questions?

The questions and the answers.

You're gonna give me your answers?

At a reasonable rate.

Why would I have the same answers
as you? I'm sane!

OK.

Sexual intercourse occurs
100 million times every day.

Ouch!

Sex is a strong motivating factor.

You must consider it when dealing
with your murder victims,

with your suspects,
with your partners, your bosses.

Most importantly, within yourselves.

Respect the urges within you.

Act upon them... spontaneously!

If not, you'll be committing
emotional homicide.

That's all for today.
Thanks for your attention.

Thank you... Sorry!

That was very good, what you said.

- About being spontaneous.
- Thanks, yes.

- Will you go out with me?
- You mean... on a date?

I guess that's a no.

I make it a rule not to date
people I'm working with.

The seminars will be over in a week.
How about after that?

Stanley.

While I was at graduate school,
I was part of a research team.

Every day, we'd take this boat
out to an uninhabited island,

a big rock, really,

and we'd study the behaviour of birds.

The sexual behaviour of birds.
Seagulls, primarily.

We determined that 14%
of all female seagulls are lesbians.

What?

These female gulls form a stable union
like their heterosexual counterparts.

They mate, lay eggs,
which are sterile, of course.

- Wait, you're telling me you are a?
- I'm fresh out of a bad relationship.

Birds of a feather
shouldn't always flock together.

Uh-huh...

I got the report on the.38 slug
that was recovered in Cox's clothing.

The bullet doesn't match.
It's not from Hellriegel's gun.

According to this report,
the.38 was a 158-grain round nose.

The Department hasn't used that since
the Owls were sweeping the Dodgers.

- Meaning?
- Cox was killed by a civilian.

My gut tells me it was
one of the uniforms at the scene.

I want all the uniforms from Eastern,
Southern and Northwest

to submit their revolvers to Evidence.

- No.
- Look, Gee.

Cox was killed with a.38 slug
running from men with.38 revolvers.

Where else do we start looking
but at the men who had the guns?

I've seen my share
of police-involved shootings.

Most were good, some not so good,
some clearly with evil intent.

I've even seen times where the suspect
needed to be shot, shot repeatedly.

But was it... the use of lethal force?
It's subjective. It's...

Gee, Gee.
Regardless of the circumstances,

when a cop shoots somebody,
he stands by it.

He picks up the radio mike and he calls
it in. He stands by the body.

If not, cops are no better
than anybody else.

What about cops
that send other cops to prison?

What about them? Are you gonna order
the uniforms to turn in their revolvers?

Look, I want the truth to come out
as much as you do.

But what you're asking for, it will cost.
Do you understand?

You'll tear a rift right across
every officer on the street,

turn brother against brother.

Before I let you do that, you better have
more than your gut to go on.

Fine.

I'll have Barnfather give the order.

You son of a bitch, Pembleton.
Son of a bitch.

So this is it,
the legendary SS John W Brown.

The ship that took your old man
all over the world.

I don't see what the big deal was -

why dad loved this old piece of tin
more than my mother and me.

Not more. Different.

When I was a kid, maybe two or three,

he took us to the eastern shore.

He said, "Let's go in for a swim."

I was afraid.

"Get in the water."

"Mummy!"

He picks me up, tosses me in,

figuring I'd learn by trying to survive.

I sank like a stone.

Needed mouth-to-mouth.
My mum sobbing.

From then on, Dad didn't want
to have too much to do with me.

I never shared his chub for the water.

At least you knew your father.

At least you've got sons.

So go make a son.

It's stupid, isn't it?

All I wanted ever
was my father's approval.

Finally, the only way I could get it
was to kill him.

When your dad dies, Chuckie, no matter
what your relationship was with him,

all the rules change.

You move to the first rung on the ladder.

Maybe you don't have to struggle so
hard to be the man he raised you to be.

Maybe now you can just be
the man you are.

Come on, my wife's got dinner
waiting on us.

She really is a beauty, isn't she?

Yeah, she's a beauty.