All language subtitles for Homicide.Life.on.the.Street.S07E12.The.Same.Coin.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

Hey, get me something to drink.

- Like what?
- Anything. I'm thirsty.

All right.

Laura, don't.

Just buy me something to drink.

Buy me something to drink.

- Huh?
- Just buy me my drink.

Yeah, yeah, sure.

You drifted off on me there, pal.

Who the hell's Laura?

Who...
who the hell are you?

- Thanks.
- You're welcome.

You wanna type up
the prosecution report for me?

Why not? G's had me in office
since the beatdown.

Might as well be helpful.

Feel the secretary,
be the secretary.

Sheppard,
you're back in rotation.

Type your own report.

Homicide. Lewis.

Hey.
We've got a dunker in Canton.

We'll be back in black
before you can say, "Cadillac."

Right. I'll get us a car.

Yeah. 1800 block.

So, partner,
guess I'm saddling up again.

Yes, indeedy!
Glad to have you back!

- Got a live one?
- Yeah, yeah. Uh-huh.

- A live one. Ready to go?
- Ready, willing and able.

Yeah. Listen, I've gotta tidy up
round here a little bit.

You wanna go get us a Cavalier?

- All right.
- Good to have you back,
partner!

Hey, Falsone.
Trade cases with me.

A decomp victim in the projects,
for a cut-and-dry dunker.

Let's see, that's like trading
Mark McGwire for... anybody.

I know. It's Sheppard.

I don't think she's ready
to go back on the street.

- She seems fine to me.
- Help me out here.

You serious?

Dead.

Am I crazy or have we
been called to a scene
with no shell casings?

You are not crazy.
The dead guy got run over
by a car.

Well, that's not homicide.
That's a traffic accident.

In which case,
Sergeant Nagel here,

who makes his home in the
traffic investigation section,

can pursue this
case on his lonesome.
God bless you, Stevie.

- You're a noble race of warrior.
- Not so fast, Munch.

This one has more lumps
than the average hit and run.

More lumps?

The dead guy,
he's on the sidewalk
making his way down the street.

The vehicle that hits him,
it veers across two lanes

and jumps a curb
without so much as a skid mark.

No sign the guy tried to brake,

or that he made
any effort to regain
control of the vehicle.

Yeah, well,
so if this guy was targeted,

if it wasn't a random accident,
then what we're talking
about is murder.

Whose side are you on?

Was the vehicle damaged
when it hit the guy?

From what we found,
he broke a headlight

and maybe
a parking light or two.

And we got some paint chips.
Blue in color.

Probably from the front part
of the quarter panel
where the victim bounced.

And a dead guy?
No wallet or ID?

He's holding a dollar
and change

and a receipt
for a can of Dinty Moore stew

purchased at that convenience
store moments before he smacked.

He's probably
from around this neighborhood.

He steps out of his house
with a few bucks

on his way to the 711,
never makes it home.

We also took this off him.

- Wow. It's some blade.
- Yeah, I thought so.

- What? That was in his pocket?
- On his front belt loop.

Well, what do you expect?
The man is on the mean streets
of Baltimore,

stalking the big game quarry,
which is Dinty Moore in a can.

Of course he's gonna be armed.

It's awfully pretty

You're one eyewitness?

She's in that beauty shop
looking through the window.

She can't even say
if the driver's male or female.

You got your work
cut out for you.

Yeah, thanks, pal.
Hey, you know that rule

that says you can't
cover cases as a primary?

Oh, no, no, no.
I'm FBI, not Baltimore PD.

And yet there you stand
with pen and notepad Akimbo,

adding another name in red
to my corner of the board.

- Munch.
- Don't munch me.

You just caught this case, okay?

I don't care
where the red letters get read.

You own this nonsense.
I'm just along for the ride.

Let's go talk to the witness.

Detective [indistinct].
Keeper of the mean bean.

I'm gonna have a talk
with those night guys.

They leave the pot
on the burner till it fries
the leftovers.

Second shift can't
tell the difference.

Where'd you pick up this?

- Off a victim.
- Victim?

Yeah, some guy
got clobbered by a car.

Hey, talk to that shift
about the cream, too.

Some weed whacker, huh, Stu?

This is no weed whacker.

You got something on that?

- I don't know.
- You don't know what?

I'll go around
and pick up some fresh cream.

I gotta get
coffee filters anyway.

Make that half and half.

Hey, fingerprints
on your victim came up clean
on the city computer.

Nothing on NCIC either.

So the guy lives,
what, maybe half a century

without ever managing
to get arrested,

only to become the hood ornament
on someone else's four wheeler?

Huh... How fair is that?

When it comes to life,
I think that a probability curve

is the only thing
that we're entitled to.

You know, your Harford road guy,
he walks into the 711

thinking that he is
a master of his own destiny,

and he walks out, the rube
in a small moment
of cosmic slapstick.

Life itself should come with
a money back guarantee.

If not completely satisfied,
return unused portion
for a full refund.

Put up a return
window on the department store
of life.

You gotta figure the universe
goes busts in four days.

Right? Right.
No satisfied customers at all.

Not our John Doe, anyway.

I have to wait
for the family and friends,

see if someone files
a missing persons report.

Well, maybe we can
take it a step further.

Run the prints
down to Washington,

the bureau can do a full
federal personnel search.

That's creepy.

The federal government
stockpiling fingerprint cards
on law abiding citizens?

No doubt a preamble to some
draconian crackdown on dissent.

I'll call Washington.

A Faustian bargain
with big brother.

Today his computers
give us John Doe's name.

Tomorrow we all get a number

and they ship our asses off
to some high desert
Gulag in Nevada.

Thomas Paine said it best:

"Disorder is the only
handmaiden to true democracy."

Thomas Paine never said that.

He was getting
around to it.

Well, this doesn't
have the look of a slam dunk.

Or the smell, for that matter.

In fact, this doesn't look
like Canton, Toto.

I meant to tell you,
I switched cases with Lewis.

What?

I'm your partner. Doesn't even
dawn on you to ask me first?

Look, he was worried
about Renee, so I switched.
End of story.

Well, you bought
into Lewis's fears.

Aren't you the lucky ones?

- Hey, Jay, what do we got?
- Look what the dog drug in.

Got a decomposing body.

It's difficult to tell how long
he's been there, though.

Maybe a week, maybe a month.

Cold is a pretty
decent preservative.

Yeah, not decent enough.

Maybe he's some street person

who died
peacefully in his sleep?

Nope.

Rats have
been gnawing in his face,

so I couldn't
find an entrance wound.

But I got a doozy
of an exit wound.

Right occipital.

And I've got
one compressed projectile.

Jimmy Ferguson.
Date of birth, 8-12-70.

Okay, bag him up.

- Any witnesses?
- Dream on.

You think this is funny?

That's what you get
for being altruistic.

Ferguson's gonna
be in red for a long time.

So you killed your roommate
with this here shovel?

Sick of him telling me
what to do all the time.

I told him
if I didn't need this cane,

but he said, "you do, Marty.
You're just a gimp."

I hate that word.

Something just snapped.

What do you think of that, huh?

Two Baltimore City's finest
bang off another one

before the rest of Charm City
poured their queen cornflakes.

Answer me straight
on something, Louis.

Do you still
want to ride with me?

What'd I do?

You left that hat on my desk.
What's it about?

It was a souvenir.
You know, like, you know,
we've been through the war.

- Yeah. Souvenir, right?
- Yeah. Souvenir.

- Ain't no big thing.
- No big thing?

- No.
- We both could have been killed.

You dropped that hat on my desk.
That's what you're saying?

- I think you're overreacting.
- Am I?

- Yeah, little.
- Then why'd you switch calls
with Falsone?

He answered
the phone on this call.

You think I'm deaf?

Excuse me, sir.
Baltimore police.

- Can we ask you a few questions?
- I'm just visiting here.

- We got a few questions.
- I don't know anything.

- Well, can we have your name?
- No.

- Okay, sir?
- Hey.

Falsone. Don't ever
raise your hand to an officer.

- I didn't do anything, man.
- Paul. It's all right.

- Paul!
- What's your name?

- Rick Castro, man.
- Get off.

What the hell do
you think you're doing?

- He's a mess, isn't he?
- That's hardly a clinical term.

He got run down by a car.
Where's the science in that?

Oh, physics, Munch, physics.

Mass and matter,
energy and inertia.

The elemental forces
of the known universe unleashed
on the human condition.

And yet you stand there
like a craven Luddite,

denying the exquisite
precision of it.

Let me be blunt, gentlemen:
the cause of death certainly

was blunt force trauma,
vehicular in nature.

The car was traveling at least
30 miles per
when it hit the victim.

Massive damage
to most organ systems.

The death was near
instantaneous.

In short,
an irresistible force
meets a fairly movable object.

Extinguishing marks?
Capped front teeth.

And an old scar from stitches
on his right knee,
and this.

What does that look like to you?

Some kind of bird or something?

- Can we get
a close up photo on that?
- Already done.

Igor, would you give these
gentlemen the overhead photos
on the John Doe?

And go to the cemetery
and dig me up
a fresh human heart.

I have been here all day
trying to create life,

and you have
been no help whatsoever.

Thanks, Griscom.

I want you to know
I had no part in Falsone
and Lewis switching calls.

I know that.

What the hell
gives them the right.

Patronizing bastards.

I mean, Falsone,
he is dangerous.

I'm trying to conduct
an interview,

and out of nowhere, he just
slams the guy to the ground.

- Slams him?
- Yeah, unprovoked.

What, he thinks
he's protecting me.

He's looking to get us hurt.

Nothing back yet on the bureau's
fingerprint search.

What would our lab come
up with on those paint chips?

Still waiting on that, too.

I go over to traffic and follow
the idiot investigator Nagel
to the city garage,

hoping to get some actual
analysis.

Know what he winds up
telling me?

The color of the car
is still blue.

Look, you want
to do some fancy dance
with a few paint chips,

you got to deal with the FBI lab
down in Washington.

That could take weeks.

I got some drag
with my colleagues.

Come on. I'll drive.

Let me just check
in with missing persons

make sure no one's
called in our John Doe.

You got it.

- Where are you headed?
- FBI lab in Washington.

Have to have him take a look
at some debris
from our hit and run.

- Your ID your victim yet?
- Munch is upstairs

checking with missing persons
before we leave,

but no.
Nah, nothing so far.

Well, uh, Look, if no one
comes forward,

that knife goes unclaimed.
I'll take it.

What's the deal with that knife?

D distal?

I'll be damned if I've even
seen one since 'Nam.

About the best
hunting knives money can buy.

You had one in Vietnam?

If you were doing a long range
recon, you either had a
d distal or you needed one.

So, you know, let me know.

That knife
doesn't find a home, okay?

Hey, Gharty. Ah.

You recognize this tattoo?

Yeah.
13th aircraft, second battalion.

That was...
That was their marker.

A lot of them guys
had that on their arm.

I knew one of their captains
had it stamped on his butt.

Nothing filed
with missing persons.

You were in air cavalry
weren't you?

Not that regiment, no.

Excuse me.

What was that look all about?

Gharty ID's the knife
as from Vietnam days.

- Something that was prized.
- More war stories, huh?

Until this day,
my law enforcement career
has remained aloof

from the ghost
of J. Edgar Hoover.

Blackmailer, racist, fascist,
subverter of legitimate dissent.

Here I am walking
into a building
that memorializes him.

- What's the problem?
- No problem, detective.

We're just confirming
your credentials.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- It means we're confirming
your credentials.

What, like cross checking
my anti war activities,

my drug history,
maybe my Greenpeace membership.

You know what I'm gonna do?
I'm gonna put in a Freedom
of information act request

for my file and see what
UFBI collected
on the radical Johnny Munch.

You're okay to go.

So you're the two
from Baltimore.

Mike Giardello, FBI field
office.

John Munch, Baltimore homicide.
Jonas Mavens.

I did your chem and scope work.

Let me guess,
our guy was hit by a blue car.

I can do better than that.
Your samples came back OEM.

- German mile, huh?
- No, that means
original equipment manufacturer.

I'm telling you that your car
hasn't been repainted.

But the car
we're talking about is--

Paint chips were laser blue,
metallic, tinted clear.
A tri coat with a taupe primer.

Probably either a '98 or '99
Ford Expedition
or Lincoln Navigator.

Tell me it has
that fine quarantine leather.

No such thing exists, smart guy.

You find your driver
and I'll testify it's his car.

Oh, hey, guys.

Robert Corrigan.

- What about him?
- He's your John Doe.

Oh, let me guess,
military records.
Access to via fingerprints.

Indeed. PFC Corrigan
was honorably discharged
in 1970.

And his last address was on file
with the
Veterans Administration.

You've got
to notify next of kin.

And I got to get this
on teletype to the district

to see if anybody saw
a Blue SUV
with front end damage.

How'd you know it was military?

Gharty knew.
Gharty?

Yeah, I don't know, John.
All that grief you were
giving him,

I think that Stu might have
seen his fair share of that war.

Kiss my ass.

I hear you and Lewis
put a case down yesterday.

- That's great.
- It was a gimme.

Gimme a no gimmie,
that's a good thing.

Did Lewis ask you
to come talk to me?

No. I just thought, you know,

I mean, I know
what you're going through.

- Excuse me.
- No. Hey. Really?

Three years back, I had my
head handed to me on a platter.

Bunch of smoke on six
or seven of them. Beat me silly.

I didn't know that.

You get so scared
that a beat down's gonna happen.

And then when it does,
and once you realize that you've
survived it,

the fear goes away.

And then when it happens again
you still know this.

When it happened again.
Now, what are the odds of that?

Well, maybe a little less for me
than for you,
but yeah, it could happen again.

- More of a chance for me.
- That's not what I'm saying.

No. Took six, seven guys
to beat you down.

It took two to take me,
and it'll probably happen again.

Thanks for the pep talk, Stu.

Hey, Renee,
that's not what I meant.

That's not what I meant.

I think the knife is the key.

Corrigan carried it
with him wherever he went.

Maybe he was looking
for trouble. Maybe he found it.

He's a messed up Vietnam vet.

Didn't do him much good against
the bumper of that car, though.

What, you're thinking
he picked a fight
and then flashed the knife?

Yeah. The other guy
walks away, then gets in his car
and runs Corrigan down later.

- This wife number two?
- No, this is numero uno.

Wife number two is in Las Vegas.
This is Verna Henderson.

Verna. First in a series.

- Are you Mrs. Henderson?
- Yes.

You are Verna Henderson,
formerly Verna Laramie,
formerly Verna Corrigan.

What's this about?

- We're here to tell
you that your husband--
- First.

Excuse me, of course.
Your first husband, Robert,

was the victim
of a fatal car crash.

Robert.

Dead? Lord, haven't seen
or thought about him in years.

Don't tell me
I'm his next of kin.

We were divorced in '76.
I know. He got married again.

- If I'm all he's got.
- No, ma'am.

We're just here to ask
some questions about Robert.

Get more information
about his background.

Come in, please.

What can I tell you?

We got married before
he went over to Vietnam.

He came home,
we fought, we split up.

We got back together for
a little bit, but I don't know.

We never really had it anymore.

- Any children?
- Three of them, all grown.

But not with Bobby.
I don't think he ever had kids.

We were wondering
if he had any enemies.

Or if he had a past
that we need to know about.

Well, he was in Vietnam, right?

Can make a changed man.

Changed? From what?

He went over there
carrying a load.

I grew up with him
in this neighborhood.

His father used
to beat him every day.

Then he died when Robert
was in the fourth grade.

He was sent to live
with his grandmother.

She was no great shakes.
She beat him, too.

Broke his collarbone
when he was in high school.

Long before
he goes over to that war,
stop caring about himself.

Nothing over there
was ever going to change him
from what he was.

He got murdered early.

It took 30 more years
for a car to finish the job.

This Corrigan,
he's like a cipher.

Living alone, no children,
no contact with ex wives,
no close friends.

The accident scene indicates
that the driver actually
targeted our victim.

Maybe he was targeted,
but it was random.

Some kid in a stolen car
thinking life is a video game.

This is nothing more
than an accident.

We should turn it back over
to the traffic division.

There's more to know
about this Robert Corrigan.

- What would you suggest?
- He's a Vietnam vet, right?

I'd like to call DOD,
pull up his records.

Do it. But if I don't hear
anything by tomorrow,

- send it back to traffic.
- War records?

Why don't we just pull
his fifth grade report card,

see if you have any problems
with fractions or long division.

That vehicle
you put on the teletype?

It showed up at the Pulaski
highway impound lot.

Thank you.
I have to go tell my lieutenant.

Calling in a lunch order,
order me up a sandwich, huh?

What am I,
your food run flunkie now?

Just give me
a ham and cheese sandwich.

I'll settle up with you later.

Hey.

Military records.

This is Detective Munch
from Baltimore Homicide.

I have a couple of names
I'd like you to check.

First is Corrigan, Robert.

Thar she blows.
Where was it abandoned?

The rail station parking garage.
It's a rental listed to Hertz.

Time in is 10 45, 20 minutes
after the hit and run.

The ignition
hasn't been stripped,

no sign of damage
to the doors or door locks.

If this was a corner kid
taking a joyride,

he would have
scratched the trim getting in

and wrecked
the ignition with a screwdriver.

And no corner boy's
gonna drive over to
the train station parking lot.

Probably dumped the damn car
in the street somewhere.

Walter Drummond.
Columbus, Ohio address.

Rented yesterday.
BWI due back today.

Okay, a police tow truck's
gonna come for this vehicle.

I want it processed for
fingerprints and trace evidence.

Until then, no one
so much as touches a fender.

Where are you, Mister Drummond.

Who are you, Mister Drummond?

Mister Drummond,
you knew Robert Corrigan.

- Who?
- You had a beef with him.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

You're lying about your car.
You're lying about
not knowing Corrigan.

- No.
- You mendacious son of a bitch.

You didn't report the rental
stolen because it wasn't stolen.

It was used to run down
Robert Corrigan on Harford Road.

No, I did. I did report it.

There's nothing about it
on the computer.

No complaint number, no report.
Who'd you report it to?

A police officer.
I don't remember his name.

- I called Hertz, too.
- They can't confirm that either.

And there's no record
that you asked
for a replacement vehicle.

I didn't need one.

My business meeting was over,
so I merely took
a cab back to the hotel.

I was leaving for Ohio tomorrow.

You say that you reported
your rental stolen downtown.

An hour later, a pedestrian
is run down with your car.

You are in deep trouble...
Mister. Drummond.

Say, Bayliss,
you double check the computer?

Uh, yeah, yeah, I did.
There is still no complaint.

But I did find that the missing
vehicle was added
to the hot sheet.

How could it be on the hot sheet
without a police report?

You got me, but the report
was added to the sheet

by a sector sergeant working
the morning shift at central.

These faxes came over
for you from military records.

Please.

How much paperwork did they send
you on Robert Corrigan?

- You pulled Gharty's file?
- I'm a detective.

I don't respect anyone's privacy
as a matter of principle.

This is a fellow detective.

If he's such a warrior,
why's he being
so cagey about it?

I know this is wrong.
Real wrong.

Gharty's history?
I mean, where do you get off?

- What were you doing back then?
- Going conscientious objector.

Me and this kid,
Randy Driessen, my best buddy,
we had it all figured out.

Before we went down
to the induction center,

we read everything
there is to read about
how to get C-O status.

- You and Driessen, huh?
- Mm hmm.

Yeah, well, I know
you ended up on your feet.

Where's your friend at?

He's a plastic surgeon
up in Scarsdale.

You're out of line on Gharty.

Have a good day, Stuart.

Oh, hey. Hey.
Hey, Billie Lou.

I finally got
my new place fixed up.

Yeah, I bought a couple of throw
rugs and standing lamp. Boombox.

Looks nice.

You should come up
and see sometime.

Stuart,
you know I'm seeing John.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah, yeah, I know, I know.

But like you say,
you're not married to him.

Entre nous, we're engaged.

- You're engaged?
- Since New Year's Eve.

Oh, that's great.
That's just great.

You know,
he's been married three times.

So have I.

Hey, Stu,
you still want that
?

- No one's claiming it?
- Next of kin consists of

a third ex-wife
who had to be convinced
it was on her to bury the man.

I don't think
anyone's gonna miss that knife.

Is that his DOD file?

Yeah, but there's nothing here.
An ordinary service record.

- Was I right about the unit?
- Yeah.
Second battalion, 13th Regiment.

- You called it.
- He was in country in '67?

Yeah, yeah, '66 to '68.

So...

He was with the second battalion
in May of '67.

Read 'em and weep.

The charge of insubordination
with no disposition noted

- in a general discharge.
- What?

Stu Gharty, general discharge.
Not honorable. I called it.

Who are you to call anything?

I didn't start
all this crap up, Mike.

He wants a piece of his history,
I'm gonna give it to him.

- Afternoon, detective.
- Hey. Whatcha up to?

Where'd you get a peach.
It's winter.
Peaches are out of season.

Peaches are never out of season.

Well, I mean to say
that you're never out of season.

Do you know what you're
doing to me right now?

I hope so.

I...

Okay, yeah, I have--
I have work to do.

Hey, Tell your partner Gharty
I'm into his crap.

What's your problem?
Tell him yourself.

He's got a problem with me.
He rolls up on my
partner Bayliss in the garage,

talking about how I'm gonna see
his Irish. Fine.

I'm here with you now saying
he's gonna see my chutzpah.

He talks all
this GI Joe nonsense.

You know what happened to
Stu Gharty in Vietnam?

None of my business or yours.

Insubordination
and a general discharge.

He was a screw up,
a coward.

- Who are you to talk?
- He brought it up.

Turns out not to be
his finest hour.

He served. Why don't you
just let it go at that?

Served what?
An obscenity to no purpose.

Hell, maybe it is
cowardice that got your buddy
kicked out of Vietnam.

Uh, Gharty is no coward.

Maybe he's got
something worse going on.

Are you accusing my partner?

Because Gharty
is a stand up detective, Munch.

He brags about being Air Cad,
then's got nothing to say
when I call him on it.

Maybe he got tossed over an
indiscriminate killing or two.

Uh, You go to hell.

Stu is a good man.

The army didn't think so.

Bayliss said
you were looking for me.

What aren't you telling me?

- What are you talking about?
- You're not saying something?

- About what?
- About the victim in my case.

Guy's a hit and run.
It was random.

You know about his tattoo,
his knife, his unit.

- So you're saying what to me?
- Well, you tell me.

You think this has
something to do with war?

This guy's over in Vietnam
doing dirt, and 30 years later,

he stands too close
to a Baltimore curve

and his enemies,
are able to get even.

Maybe Ho Chi Minh
has a long reach from the grave.

Why'd you say he's doing dirt?

It's just a figure of speech.
I'm guessing.

No.
You know Corrigan's history.

Second battalion,
13th Air Cavalry,

Quang Tri province,
spring of '67. There was...

...some mix up.

They were in some sort of,
some kind of incident.

Some friendlies.
A lot of them got killed.

Incident?

Some sort of massacre
or something.

This was early. Before My Lai.

You were there.

I wasn't involved.

But you were there.

You know, I've never been
so ill treated in all my life.

You've led a charmed life
then.

This how your city
treats visitors?

You're not going
to be a center for tourism,
I'll tell you that.

You've made me
miss my flight out.

Now I'm stuck here
for another night.

- Have you seen the aquarium?
- Oh.
You'll hear from my attorney.

Excuse me, Mr. Drummond,
you're free to go now.

We're sorry
for any inconvenience
we have caused you.

Don't forget
to check out the dolphin show.

Southern District sergeant
brought him in five minutes ago.

Kid wants to put himself in
for the hit and run.

- That little runt?
- 5'4". I measured.

- Just big enough
to reach the pedal.
- You joking me?

He had a nightmare last night.
He woke up crying.

Told his mommy about it.
Here they are.

- What's your name?
- Petey. Petey Rapolo.

Petey, you know the man
you struck was killed.

Yeah.

Say you're sorry, Petey.

Sorry.

You know
that there was no attempt
to brake or slow the truck.

Eyewitness said
that you veered across two lanes

as if you were
aiming for the man.

No, I didn't see the guy.

I was trying to change
the station.

- What?
- The radio station.

He was on a commercial forever
and I wanted tunes.

I reach over, and the next thing
I know, I'm on the sidewalk.

And, uh, why'd you leave it
at the train station?

I mean, why there?

My friend Del Mar,

he works
across the street at the Amaco.

I wanted to hook up with him
that night.

I just liked driving.

I never ran
no one down before this.

Tell the man you're sorry.

Sorry.

- Hey.
- Oh, I'm getting
a fresh pot on lickety split.

Yeah, you know what?
Never mind the coffee, Stu.
It's okay.

Um. Why don't you
tell me about Vietnam?

Never a dull moment,
if that's what you're asking.

And that's
what your records say, huh?

What are you talking about,
my records?

I see Munch, he starts asking
questions about your past.

He says that you've got
something on your records.

He what?

He comes to you
about my records?

That son of a bitch.

I'm just saying
that we need fresh ideas.

Look at this. Look at this.
We gotta start doing better
business in here.

- A mariachi band?
- Tourist music?

No, we call it
swivel hips night.
We give out free tequila shots.

Yeah, you're the only guy
drinks that stuff here, John.

What about a wet
t-shirt contest?
- For men?

- Oh, yeah, there's a thought.
- Bite my tongue.

We just gotta try something
different. I'm not in the--

the income bracket to be using
this bar as a write off.

- This is not good.
- It tastes wrong.

No, it's fine.
Nothing wrong with that.

Evening, Mr. Gharty.

Stuart.
Where you been keeping yourself?

I've been working.

What can I get you there, Stu?
The usual?

I'm not drinking.

- Black and tan, isn't it?
- I don't drink.

This one's on the house.

Uh, you know, this beer
is not coming out right.

- Maybe you should
check the lines, John.
- I did that already an hour ago.

Maybe it's a bad connection.

Hey, Stu, I just got a call.
I need you
to take a ride with me.

You can handle it yourself,
I have no doubt.

Yeah, well, do me a favor,
come with.

- What's the call?
- A call?

There is no call, is there?

I'm telling you,
there's a call.

Do me a favor.
Don't blow smoke up me,
all right?

What's a man
supposed to do, huh?

Hey, Stu, why don't you have--

- Excuse me,
who's talking to you?
- Gharty, come on.

Hey. Hey. What?

I'm just asking my fellow
detectives something.

Ask the question.

I can't hear you.
What'd you say?

Ask the question.

I got smoke up my ass.
It must be going deep.

I still can't hear you.
Come on around.

- Let it go, Munch.
- Wait!

- Get off me, Bayliss!
- John! John!

- Off me, Bayliss.
- John, it's been a long day.

Long day for who?
Get the hell off me.

What exactly
can't you hear, buddy boy?

What, you need your partner
to bail you out?

Hey, why don't you
find the front door, Gharty?

Why don't you find my ass,
Bayliss?

You gonna step
into my crap, Munch? Huh?

You wanna spit into my blood?
You are who.

- Come on.
- Come on.
I'll show you who I am.

Ah!

- Come on.
- Let me go.

- Come on!
- Come on!

- Hey, you stop, Gharty.
- Billie, are you okay?

- Sure, I'm fine.
- No, you're not.

- I said I'm all right.
- What? Billy Lou, you hurt?

You want to kill each other,
go ahead.

You hurt her, Gharty.
I will stomp you.

- Off me, Bayliss!
- John.

- You happy now, Stu?
- This is on me?

- Just be a moron.
- What?

- This is me?
- Yeah, this is you.

This is Munch.

You call up my service records.
Who is he to do that?

No, who the hell are you?

- And you doubt me too, huh?
- No, Stuart, I do not doubt you.

Oh, that's crap.
Otherwise you don't ask.

I tell myself one thing
before going in country.

I'm 19 years old.
I promised myself one thing.

I'm going in breathing.
I'm walking out breathing.

And I-- and I'm not asking
anybody about anything
what happens in between?

And you,
Mr. FBI peacemaker here.

You see my records?
What does my discharge say, huh?

You got a lot you don't
want people to know about.

Insubordination
and a general discharge.

- Not exactly honorable, Gharty.
- And this is what to you?

I get my suspicions.

What is it I did
in Vietnam?

- That's right, pal.
- And you doubt me?

What-- what is it exactly
that you want to know?

- The date, the time,
the place, the weather?
- No.

It's 200 degrees in the shade,
300% humidity.

It's May 23rd, Sunday night,
Quang Tri province.

It's a peaceful village.
Friendly village.

Supposed to be pacified.

And my unit, we just got
our asses handed to us
by these friendlies.

And so now we're going back in.

We're gonna tell 'em
who's who in the real world.

Men on one side,
women and children on the other.

I'm coming in with my unit.
Coming in...

coming into the LZ,
and I see the men
in this village.

And they're all lined up.

They're all being
lined up and shot by us.

By my buddies. My unit.

They have the women and children
lined up in that ditch
and they're locking and loading.

I put my gun on my guys,
my buddies.

And I-- And I say to them,
"stop!"

And they.
They aim down at me.

Then there's this commanding
officer, right, some colonel.

And he comes over
and he tells me,

he says, he orders
me back up into the area.

He tells me,
"get back up in the helicopter."

He says, "I got--
I got things in order now."

You know.

I aim my rifle at him.

I have him in my sight,
and for just one second...

I got written up for disobeying
a commanding officer.

I'm 19 years old.
I should've have known better, huh?

You son of a bitch.

I should have just let it go,
and... hell,
I could have come out honorable.

- Stu, you did good.
- You go to hell, Ballard.

Let me go, Tim.

- You sure, John?
- Where's the trust?

- Are you cool, Gharty?
- Well, you all got
what you wanted.

What else is there?

Munch? It's good that you
come out so pure
from those days, ain't it?

What'll you have?
I'm buying.

You don't have anything
in this joint I need.

You remember that kid
I was telling you about?
Driessen?

Yeah. Yeah.
You and him went conscientious.

He's no plastic surgeon
up in Scarsdale.

No, huh?
What is he?

- Dead.
- What?

He went over to Vietnam.

Well, you told me you and him
got CO status.

I did... but he bailed out
at the last second

as we're walking
into the interview room.

Sent him over as a medic.

He never made it out.

You know this.

I've been carrying this
with me for a long, long time.

I think a Mariachi band
would be nice.

But at least you could ask me
if I would like to
give a performance here.

But how would I do that now?

You ever try to bow a base
with a swollen hand?

Doesn't work.

Billie Lou, I apologize.

I knew I never
should have come here.

Never speak to me again, Stuart.

- You okay, Gharty?
- Oh, sure, sure.

I get ordered back
on to that chopper.

And I figure it's okay,
you know, 'cause...

Commanding Officer
is now on scene.

I get-- I get on
and start lifting off.

I'm more than
50ft in the air and...

I see that son
of a bitching colonel

start shooting down the women
and children.

I should have
stayed on the ground.

I should have shot that
son of a bitch when I had him.

But I didn't, did I?

How old were you then, Munch?

- 18.
- At least you
were younger than me.

We were young then.