Original subtitles

I always liked authoritarian women.

OK, I'm on my way.

Good time to get yourself shot.

Captain.

Which floor?

11th.

Bipeds use the stairs.

After you.

That's unsporting.

Kevin Blanchard, aged 21.

Three shots from an 11mm.

The killer left us this.

Yeah, probably on file.

The gunman knows he can't use it anymore.

Funny guy. I like him already.

Captain... your gloves.

To avoid hepatitis? I'm already in a wheelchair.

Barely 20 and already a stiff.

What is it with these assholes and death?

Right.

Track marks on his arms, shot with a bazooka.

Young Kevin hadn't paid his tab, or he offended his dealer.

Blanchard's body wasn't all we found.

There was a girl, unconscious but unhurt.

Aged 15 to 20, no ID, another junkie

with strange bruises on her wrists.

So, interview her.

We can't, she's been hospitalized.

Check out Blanchard's contacts, his emails and calls,

landline and cell.

Ask the neighbors, check out his past.

When you're through, if you've time,

drop by the hospital,

see if Snow White is awake.

Will do.

- Who's she? - Barbara Simon. Found her husband

at the bottom of the stairs, dead.

She just signed a statement.

And?

Nothing. An accident.

You sure?

The deceased was... wasted.

Wasted.

What, like this?

- Like this? - Like...

Like me.

Send the bill to the prosecutor!

Madame Simon!

Frédéric Caïn.

I need to ask you a few more questions.

I told your colleague everything.

He spilled jam on the dossier.

Now it's all stuck.

So, you went to bed at 11.30pm?

Yes, like I told you.

You couldn't sleep, got up...

- and found... - Like I said the first time round.

- Can I buy you dinner? - Can I slap you?

An impotent husband was ruining your life.

You got rid of him.

You pushed him?

She did it, she struck a disabled man.

High-class girl.

Moretti, I want to file a complaint.

Room 228.

Is that all you can say? A suspect hits me...

What bullshit did you say to get Barbara Simon to slap you?

You've seen her? Gorgeous, isn't she?

Is that any reason to harass her?

Were you eavesdropping?

Spying on me?

No need, I know you like my best friend.

OK, I might have harassed her a bit. What if I did?

Maybe her husband's death was no accident.

What do you want?

As usual, your blessings.

And your love and congratulations.

With these wheels in my ass...

You solve more cases than all the able-bodied staff, I know.

So, I bless you.

Your ex called.

And?

She wants me to persuade you to leave her alone.

She thinks you're determined to stop her rebuilding her life.

So, will you?

What?

Try to persuade me.

I already did. Now get out.

Hey, how come the referee didn't whistle?

Hey, referee!

Foul!

Are you the coach? Why don't you say anything?

Look at you, staring blankly!

Well done, you didn't let up. A real pitbull.

Don't. We got hammered.

If not for that idiot ref, you'd have tied, easy.

Is he screwing their captain?

No, his daughter is.

Should I bang him up?

Dad... wait outside.

Why did you come, Dad?

To see the game.

You mean the last 5 minutes.

So how's things?

Good.

And how's your mom?

You get along with her boyfriend? Is he still...?

Ask her yourself.

Sorry I'm late, I had a problem at work.

You're a real pair.

- At least I made it. - Yeah, right.

I'll put my gear in the car.

You look well.

I'm OK.

- You? - Yeah...

I'm doing great.

By the way, that chat you had with Moretti.

Couldn't you just have called me?

I have called you, Fred.

Didn't change much, though.

I'd better be off.

We look like a divorced couple.

Good, we're making progress.

Lab results from the dead junkie case.

Bullshit.

Plus it's full of mistakes.

This paper stinks of dead mice.

I just got back from the hospital.

Our witness came round.

Jessica Garnier, 17, the victim's girlfriend.

Poor kid can't string a sentence together.

You tell your pal Moretti that? Bet he was upset.

Commander Moretti is not my "pal".

The way you two gossip behind the cripple's back.

Good day to you, Captain.

Stay here.

Find anything in the traumatized girl's things?

You've got one in that file too.

Carried by the victim.

Both belonged to an association called "Hope".

Find out about it.

A rehab center run by a guy named Patrick Uzard,

a former broker and junkie

who dropped everything to help kids kick drugs.

- You're still here? - Like you asked.

- You're not coming? - No way... Dismissed.

Thank God.

I came to apologize.

I don't know what got into me.

Your husband

brought back bad memories.

I flipped. I apologize.

I understand.

May I come in? I forgot to ask you 15 or so questions.

I never remember till it's too late.

A paradise for anyone with a psychomotor disability.

May I see where you found your husband?

Describe the moment you found him.

This way.

And?

I don't know what happened.

The chair was jammed.

Philippe must have fallen,

trying to grab the banister.

I have to write things down, otherwise I forget.

Not great for a cop.

Adrien, this is Captain Caïn.

See you later.

Sir...

Adrien is Philippe's son. He was 15 when we got married.

Why didn't you have one?

A kid, I mean.

What for? To be average?

No, because when you're in love,

and together for a long time...

Didn't Philippe want to?

Or he couldn't, is that it?

Because of his stroke?

I asked you a question, Madame Simon.

Hi.

Lieutenant Lucie Delambre.

Patrick Uzard. Are you new here?

I'm from Crime Squad.

Kevin Blanchard has been found dead,

shot 3 times.

Shit!

God damn it.

His girlfriend Jessica was a witness. She's in hospital,

in a state of shock.

What could have happened?

When one dies, I always blame myself.

But it's usually an accident,

an overdose.

Kevin...

According to your statement,

he always took a bath.

Yes.

Yet when you found the body, he was in pajamas.

He was in the bathroom before coming down.

The bathtub overflowed.

It's almost impossible to live with a disabled, impotent man.

I was wondering, Barbara...

May I call you Barbara?

When such problems crop up in relationships, you talk,

you look for answers.

Sometimes you find an arrangement.

What do you mean?

You're still young.

And, more importantly, beautiful.

Very.

Not the type of woman who can live without love.

Have you got anyone, Barbara?

Besides your husband, I mean.

Philippe had other qualities.

His problems didn't prevent us from making plans.

Impossible plans.

Poor Barbara.

So alone...

Shouldn't push your husband downstairs though.

You asshole.

If anyone's frustrated and impotent, it's you.

Electric wheelchairs changed my life. They're so affordable now!

I went to "Hope".

So, they got any spare rooms for the holidays?

I always wanted to do pottery

with zombies on Subutex.

I talked to the boss, Patrick Uzard.

He provided some details on the victim Kevin.

Got into drugs young,

been on and of them ever since, dealing to fuel his habit.

You drove 100 miles to learn that Blanchard was a junkie

who sold drugs to finance his habit. Bravo.

According to his neighbors and phone records,

our Kevin has been busy.

Seems his dealing activities

had moved up a level.

Uzard was upset by Kevin's death.

He regards it as a failing

on his part.

Whatever, Kevin was peddling plenty of dope.

He got greedy.

Could well have been taken out by a rival dealer.

A rival dealer...

Ri-val dea-ler.

Quit staring at me or I might have to strip off.

Do you even care?

No, but the bit about you stripping off...

sounded pretty interesting.

Sure, you can relate to that.

We got the lab results this morning.

The murder weapon had been cleaned

but had prints on the clip. Drugs make you stupid.

And the winner is...

Michaël Fonseca, 28.

Well known to the Drug Squad.

You had the results all along?

That's right.

My disability doesn't affect my brain.

So when I went to talk to Uzard...

The results were already in.

Go tell your pal the Commander that I withheld information.

You're a clown on a bike!

Not bad.

Clown on a bike... That's a good one.

The name Barbara Simon mean anything?

She just called to complain.

Harassment from a Crime Squad officer.

You want Internal Affairs on your ass too?

Our Barbara didn't seem to mind being harassed.

Are you mixing work with personal issues?

You know I'll keep on at the pretty widow

till I'm 100% certain that she didn't cause

her husband's fall.

When I rehired you, after your accident,

you remember what the deal was?

No more bullshit.

I've stuck to it. No drugs, no extortion...

Haven't punched an informant in months.

Fine. Now for the final part of your rehabilitation.

You only investigate under your boss's orders.

- You're no fun. - No, I'm not.

If you want Barbara, ask her. Don't play the authority figure...

- Fire alarm, everyone out! - No, stay here.

One, I checked Philippe Simon's medical notes.

He mostly fell this last 6 months

after he'd rallied. The better he got, the more he fell.

Maybe someone wanted him dead.

Two, as you subtly pointed out,

I'm disabled myself.

So I know how unbearable it is to have a handicapped partner,

who suffers, moans, complains,

and needs help to piss, or open a tube of toothpaste.

I don't remember Gaëlle complaining when you were together.

'Course not.

She suffered in silence. You think that's better?

I'll give you a week to investigate Barbara Simon.

Not a day more.

- Caïn. - Michaël Fonseca,

the owner of the gun that killed Kevin,

has been spotted by witnesses in a squat.

I'll pick you up.

No way, squats are disgusting. I hate junkie vomit in my wheels.

Put your rubber boots on and go without me.

- No, no. - What?

This is embarrassing, but that marking there...

You took the last spot.

Shall I take your disability too?

I'm not disabled!

Who knows?

Only joking.

Take my badge, OK?

Go ahead.

You're wasting my time, I did an autopsy on Simon.

There's no doubt the guy killed himself on a staircase.

But you'll re-examine the body because secretly,

you're in love with me.

The fall might have caused

the brain damage that killed him.

More likely the cerebral injury preceded the fall,

given his medical history.

Make an effort, Elisabeth. I need you on this one.

In his blood

were sleeping pills, pain killers... Maybe he messed up the doses.

What about this tackle?

After a stroke like that? Out of action, definitively.

Thank you, Elisabeth... thank you.

And when our time comes,

I'll cherish your lovely tush in a gossamer negligee.

I promise it'll be a baroque opera, an old master,

a sunset over the Andes cordillera.

You're asking for a slap.

Two slaps in two days! Beautiful, go ahead, give it to me.

- Captain... - Leave a message after the tone.

I've found Fonseca.

Your message will be passed on to Captain Caïn, promise!

Leave a mess...

Fix up your racing tires and get down there, now!

Lieutenant!

She asked us to help you.

OK, put me down.

He was a freezing block of wax by the time I got here.

Overdose, no question.

Self-administered.

He died at least 48 hours before Blanchard's body was discovered.

Fonseca didn't kill Blanchard but the murderer used his gun,

probably to frame him.

According to the guys who scoured Blanchard's apartment,

the only prints found belonged to Jessica and Kevin.

"J" - Jessica.

Search the place.

Captain, what a surprise.

You want to come in?

You want one too?

The answer is yes.

It's bad manners to let a widow drink alone.

Can I try your stairlift?

I dream of having one.

But a gadget like that on a cop's salary...

Is the armrest broken?

Why not repair it?

There's only one supplier in the area.

I've been calling them for weeks.

Outrageous.

All Philippe had to do was grapple with the handle...

You're crazy!

How long did you leave him here to die?

Get out.

Why not just give me a set of keys?

Because I don't want you to feel at home.

Smells good. Expecting anyone?

What do you want?

A drink.

A chat.

Then another drink.

Put the world to rights, with a pal.

Like everyone else.

Tell it to the marines.

Spit it out.

I've seen you chatting to Lieutenant Delambre.

Yeah.

So?

So...

You could talk to her too if you tried.

So what about this drink?

One drink... just one.

Fred, what do you want?

To talk.

Can't it wait?

No.

So what's up?

Can I stay for a few days?

Moretti threw me out.

My hotel's got roaches.

Great big roaches.

I knew you wouldn't mind.

The answer's no, Fred.

Because of that dickhead?

What's his name, Eric? Know what that is in Celtic?

Chefaillon.

Meaning "no balls".

I'm tired, I want to sleep.

I don't want this conversation with you.

- Is he here or not? - None of your business.

I miss you, Gaëlle.

It isn't me you miss.

It's your former life, before the wheelchair.

- Hi, Fred. Sleep well? - No.

Excellent. Have a nice day.

Goddam bipeds.

I knew I'd find you here.

Yeah, for my morning run.

I heard you last night, talking to Mom.

She was mean.

It's OK, honesty doesn't do you any harm.

Makes a change from pitiful looks.

Why did you go, Dad?

Why did you screw things up with her?

I couldn't bear the way your mom looked at me.

Like I was a victim.

When the accident was all my fault.

I was driving too fast.

Drunk and stoned.

You realize what you're saying?

I wanted to die.

As if I wasn't already the world's most selfish man.

I love you, you brat.

I love you too.

You wanna book me? I was only doing 50.

From Fonseca's apartment.

Present for you. You'll put it to good use.

I stopped by the hospital.

The cuffs match the bruises left on Jessica Garnier's wrists.

Well now, Jessica with a "J".

Fonseca's last tattoo.

What if Jessica was Fonseca's girlfriend?

With him it was tough love:

cuffs, S&M, etc.

Or she just wanted his gun.

Either or both.

But she wanted the tattooed guy in the dock.

Those junkies are all twisted.

Bet you're glad you're out of it.

What do you mean?

You.

I see Moretti has briefed you.

Careful, I'm armed.

Me too. I'm a good shot.

Good shot, nice ass, driver's license...

Why settle for menial tasks in Crime Squad?

No reaction?

When the time is right.

Seeing how close Jessica and Fonseca were,

if he's been dead two days, she must have known.

Why would a junkie...?

Shoot her dealer Kevin

when her only other supplier was already dead?

Yeah... it's weird.

Did you just finish my sentence?

It's just the start. Couples always do it.

- So, we only have one lead... - Nice Mr. Uzard.

To the car, then.

- Coming? - Yes.

But I won't have you thinking for me.

Captain Caïn.

We have a few questions.

I'll be right with you, Lieutenant.

Come.

Please leave a message...

Hello... Barbara?

Barbara, it's me again.

I need to talk to you. Call me, please.

You do a tough job. You must get it in the neck.

Like I told the lieutenant last time.

Sometimes I feel like walking away, but I know I can't.

Well, sorry to tell you,

I'm going to have to put you

through the mill again.

Jessica killed Kevin.

No!

That's awful.

You know Michaël Fonseca?

No, who is he?

A dealer. Jessica stole his gun to kill Kevin.

Don't know him.

We have a favor to ask you, Mr. Uzard.

We'd like you...

to be present

when she confesses.

You're like a big brother to her.

She may try to harm herself unless you're there.

Of course.

Hi, Jessica.

You're very weak and I'm in a hurry,

so let's do this quickly.

You were with Fonseca when he killed Kevin.

Then you were found at the scene, out for the count,

playing the poor, innocent victim.

Pity Fonseca overdosed

before the murder was committed.

At first we thought Fonseca shot up, then died.

Then he popped out to kill Kevin.

But that isn't possible, so we knew it was you.

You stole Fonseca's gun and shot Kevin.

I...

Don't beat yourself up, Jessie.

Pat yourself on the back.

Nice work.

So are we in agreement?

You killed Kevin?

You did, right?

I'll sum up.

Two guys supplied you with dope: Fonseca and Kevin.

Fonseca dies. Who's left? Kevin.

Wait, I'm getting confused.

Yes, she killed her two dealers

and went cold turkey.

Something doesn't fit.

Yeah.

Why kill Kevin?

Any ideas?

No?

What...

you killed Kevin?

Do you think so?

I liked Kevin, make no mistake.

Yeah, Jessie, he liked Kevin.

So why kill him?

Mr. Uzard, so pure, so considerate?

Kill a poor defenseless, drug addict?

There's no denying,

he loves drug addicts.

When they're off drugs.

Obviously when Kevin started dealing...

I killed him to stop it.

All those kids he was feeding heroin,

destroying them with junk. It had to stop.

All the AIDS, violence, misery...

then death.

I saw it every day.

- He had to be stopped. - Sure.

Plugging him with an 11mm, implicating a teenage girl?

Kevin wouldn't have let me in.

I needed her to gain entrance.

I'm sorry.

OK, that's enough. Cuff him, Lieutenant.

You two are hard work. All that to get to the truth.

Don't damn the guy, he does a wonderful job.

If they can't kick it, he kills their dealer.

It's a sure-fire method.

If I hadn't figured out Uzard,

we'd never have cracked this case.

- Are you kidding me? - No.

Often I am, but not here.

I told you Uzard was a shit,

with his fine words and good deeds.

You've got a nerve, you never saw him!

You're right. Maybe it was you who said it.

I'm so used to you not making any sense,

it passed me by.

No reaction, no insult?

Not even a slap?

I could do with a slap, haven't had one all day.

Comrade!

Is it because I'm a woman, or is it my legs?

Both.

And because I've figured your game with Moretti.

He's got you keeping an eye on me.

I already get pitied for my wheelchair and limp legs.

If I start groping witnesses or filching seized dope,

it'll get ugly, right?

Barbara!

Open the door!

Wait.

Quit pestering her.

I killed my father, with this.

When he got up in the night,

all I had to do was push him.

Check.

My prints are on it.

Your labs will know it.

No need to cuff you, I guess.

No.

Come on, then.

You wrote a poem for me? How sweet.

It's called "My Resignation".

I chewed over what you said.

Why play the home nurse?

Especially for a guy like you

who's sole pleasure is pissing everyone off.

At last.

I'm surprised you stuck it out for so long.

Please leave a message...

Barbara?

Can I see you? It's important.

Hotel Eden Rock, Les Catalans.

Come in.

Come in... ignore the mess.

Sit down.

What'll happen to Adrien?

Nothing.

Adrien is crazy about you.

He'd even take the rap for you.

I know you killed your impotent husband.

I knew it the moment I saw you.

You know why?

Not because I'm a particularly bright cop.

Or because I like order and justice and all the other bullshit

dreamed up by folks with legs who like a quiet life.

But because, like him, I'm a cripple,

with nothing else to do in life but brood, nose around,

and stir things up.

Philippe wanted to die.

He was just a shadow,

hassling me with his problems and suicidal tendencies.

I couldn't bear to see him that way.

Tell me about it.

But the bipeds' law is what it is.

Euthanasia is still murder.

Otherwise we couldn't get around

for all the corpses.

I won't go to jail.

I'm sick of being locked up!

You'll find a product to remove prints

in the drawer.

Fire here.

You can't miss.

They'll think it's suicide.

I did it for him because I loved him.

But I don't love you.

Go away.

This is Jacques Moretti. Leave a message.

It's Fred.

Pick up, I know you're there.

Barbara Simon.

You were right, I was wrong.

Forget it.

You can go.

Been hired to do the filing, then?

Lieutenant?

I have a confession to make.

Never repeat it or you'll come to a very sticky end.

I like you.

Really?

Well, I don't like you.

You're macho, disdainful,

obsessive, selfish,

given to obnoxious humor,

your car stinks, and your taste in...

So why stay?

Because you're a good cop.

Aside from that?

I won't give you the satisfaction of leaving.

Well, that's just great.

I'm hooked.

I can't do without you.

Subtitles - Kevin Smith for IMAGINE