Original subtitles

LA's an immigrant city.

From the Chumash to the Persians

to the Vietnamese to everyone else in between.

This is where they come.

"A writer once said, " Los Angeles gives the feeling of the future

more strongly than any city I know of.

"A bad future, too."

Wait for me, right?

- Thought I told you... - Fuck y'all!

- But, I don't know about that. - Hey.

I'm an immigrant too, I guess.

I think LA's got a lot of good to it.

There he is.

Let's do this.

I'll admit it though. It's a hard town, no argument there.

And now the purple dusk Of twilight time.

Steals across the meadows of my heart.

High up in the sky The little stars climb.

Always reminding me that we're apart.

You wander down the lane And far away.

Sweet pool.

Hey. So what did your car guy say?

Listen, most times, a whip like that rolls in...

the mechanic makes a sad face, takes whatever it really costs and adds a zero.

But, Sugar, today you are in luck,

'cause my guy Billy...

I mean, he's like an honest Gandalf.

I thought you were going for an oil change.

You can't leave a car like that up on blocks for six months

and expect her to be up and running with just an oil change.

All right? But she's good now. She's perfect.

All right.

There she goes.

So you stay here?

Live here.

You live here?

You must charge a lot.

Industry rates, from what I'm told.

Nice industry.

It ain't bad.

Hey. You want a job, Val?

I gotta be somewhere in a couple hours, but sure. What do you got?

No, no, no. A job. Like a job-job.

Working with me.

You know? Ongoing position.

No, I'm serious. I mean, we just met, but you're disciplined, you're resourceful.

And to be honest with you, I could...

I could do with the help.

Right.

No, but I don't wanna presume.

Not if you...

No, I mean I'm...

I'm always on the lookout for new shit, new job opportunities.

- So you'll think about it? - For sure.

Yeah, cool. Let me think on it.

Good. Think about it.

- Good. - Good.

Okay.

Danny! Throw your hands up, Danny. Come on.

Move your feet.

That's it. Move.

Here we go.

That's it. Come on.

Move your feet. Move your feet.

They call it the Sweet Science.

It's brutal, but they call it sport.

Danny.

Danny!

I gotta admit,

whatever you wanna call it, it's hard to look away.

He's stealing drugs from the fucking hospital?

It's the last place he was seen.

Jesus. He's not always like this.

- I mean, these days he is, but... - You don't need to explain.

I'm not explaining anything, I'm just telling it like it is.

Of course.

And the police aren't looking for him?

As far as I know.

- Excuse me. - Remember,

when you're in there, keep your feet moving.

Hey, Tom. What do you got?

Hands up, guts up. Keep your hands up.

What's up, Coach?

- Agent? - I wish.

No, just some guy helping with Ji.

- Ji. Your crazy brother Ji? - Yeah.

Listen, good job the other night.

Eddie Mbanefo is two classes above you.

Now, he moves like a cement pig, but he's no tomato can.

Thanks, Teddy.

That guy was slow.

Just had to work his middle and stop his feet

and then, pop, pop, come up high.

Big things are coming for you, Danny.

- Stay focused. - Okay.

- All right, I'll text when I'm there. - All right.

Okay, bye.

- Sorry. - So we're good, right?

You'll just... you know, keep me updated?

Definitely, yeah. I gotta go. Thank you for letting me come by.

Sure.

Yo, that call. Was it about Ji?

I'll let you know.

Okay.

Everything comes to an end.

Sooner than you think sometimes.

From the side suns of Andromeda, to the detamorphs on Paloma.

Everything dies.

But still...

I'm hoping I don't find Ji here.

They're bringing him.

- Tom Flybjerg. - Fucking...

I helped him a few years ago when his wife went missing hiking in Ojai.

Say, you know how to put stuff on Instagram?

Turned out, she'd only gone missing from Tom.

Hey, Flybjerg, coming in.

Here we go.

Early 20s Asian male.

Good resemblance.

All right. Good news.

Not for him.

You said it was a gang hit? He doesn't look like a banger.

He's probably a civilian. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.

- That his stuff? - Yeah.

Wallet, photos, a few bills, a phone card. But no photo ID.

- Can I? - Yeah.

He's an immigrant. Recent. He's probably still waiting on his papers.

Trace the activity on this phone card and you can find his parents.

It'll just be one number he called over and over.

Fair.

On a brighter note,

in the "arc of history bends towards justice" category,

Katie, where's the shooter?

Over here.

It's like fucking Mardi Gras in here.

LAPD ran up on him two blocks away.

"Ez4"?

Gang tat probably. I'll ask around.

A gang member killing a civilian?

It happens.

Initiation, get your wings sort of thing.

Or he's just an idiot, shot the wrong guy.

You mind?

Go ahead.

Sometimes it still works if he's just... dead.

Don't ask how we learned that.

I think you were right.

About what?

They shot the wrong guy.

I guess I was still hoping whatever trouble Ji had gotten himself into

was of the self-inflicted variety.

But someone really is after him.

Someone serious.

He's right to be afraid.

Still, it gave me a thought on where to look next.

Or where to look again.

Damn it!

Hey.

You okay?

I'm fine. I just got fired, so, kinda having a bad day.

I'm sorry. That's too bad.

- I got you. - Thanks.

Thank you.

- Thank you. Yeah. - Yeah. All right.

Hey. Good luck.

Thanks.

Blaine.

"If it's December 1941 in Casablanca, what time is it in New York?"

"My watch stopped."

- You saw the film? - Yes!

- What'd you think? - Phenomenal.

Good.

I have a favor to ask.

That's him.

- That's your guy? - Yeah.

Leaving the fourth floor.

You have cameras in the stairwell?

No.

All right, can you show me the exit the stairs lead to?

Okay.

Where'd he go?

I mean it's been nine, ten minutes, and he's still...

There he is.

Why'd it take him so long to get down the stairs?

He must've gone to another floor.

- Check the cameras? - Yeah.

You're right. Here he is.

Exiting the fifth-floor stairwell.

Here he is a few minutes later.

Stop. Go back.

Okay, go forward, slowly. Slow, slow, slow, stop.

Something spooked him.

Yeah.

He doesn't show up at the elevator or the nurse's station,

so wherever he went for those few minutes have to be off that hallway.

A hallway on the fifth floor.

"Jesus Alejandro Jaquez, 22 years old.

Admitted April 27th."

Three days before Ji was here.

"Patient arrived with multiple gunshot wounds."

Multiple transfusions. Intubation due to perforated lung.

"Emergency splenectomy."

Poor kid.

He didn't make it.

What were you doing, Ji?

How does a dead man take a picture?

Unless...

someone else was there.

All right. Now we're looking for someone else.

Visitor, fifth floor, same time as my guy.

It was late, so nurses, orderlies...

Him.

He's hiding his face from the cameras.

Who is he?

Who is that?

Ji-Ho! There he is!

Hey, guys.

Rocky too!

Hey, Lucy.

Hi, Danny.

Hungry? I have some Sundubu Jjigae left over.

I'm all right, thank you.

Just wanted to say good night.

Goodnight.

By the way.

And so rent?

Is coming soon?

You haven't received our rent, yet?

Ji-Seok didn't pay you?

Are you fucking serious, Ji?

Where the hell are you? Call me back right fucking now!

Son of a bitch! Fuck!

It's not easy being on your own sometimes.

Before, there were thousands of us.

I could always come home and find someone to talk to. Now?

You have no new messages.

Well, now I have work to do.

Who are these people after Ji?

LA's got street gangs. Everyone knows that.

From 18th street to Glendale.

From Long Beach up into Ventura.

Drugs and guns and senseless drive-bys is what we're told on the news.

But that's not the whole story.

Right or wrong, gangs are like families.

And families make you feel part of something.

And that's a powerful thing.

Like I said, it's hard being on your own.

Hello again.

Hello.

- Made up your mind? - Just the usual, please, Eric.

Mung beans with ghee and a side of papaya.

And I wanted to ask.

How did the callback go?

I didn't get it.

No!

- Aw, I know you wanted that one. - I know.

I thought I had it too.

That sucks. I remember Sydney Greenstreet,

he didn't get his big break until The Maltese Falcon,

when he was what, 61?

Never know what's gonna happen next, you know?

That was nice of you.

What? What was?

What you said. I bet you turned his whole night around.

Men don't usually like being called nice.

Not all men. Not only men,

but they think it's a sign of weakness.

Only, I think it's the opposite.

It's a powerful quality.

This world could use a lot more of it.

At least that's my experience.

- How was everything tonight? - Thank you. Delicious.

You're nice too.

You're not nice?

I don't think it's the first thing people would say about me.

What would they say?

Hardworking, passionate, humanitarian.

Wow.

My God. I sound so boring.

No, you don't.

Okay, let me try again.

They would say...

she enjoys talking to nice men in restaurants.

I'm sorry, I have to take this.

Of course.

To be continued.

That was weird.

No, no, no.

That's not allowed.

Fuck.

Yo, yo, yo! So what's up, champ? You in or what?

Is there room for me on the next one?

Yeah, baby! We actually got a gig tomorrow night.

You wanna make that cheddar? I'll come pick you up.

- All right, I'm down. - Sick.

I'll see you on the flip, bitch.

Good morning, Senator Pavich.

Former senator, I should say.

He's now the CEO of a brand new tech company.

They put out a press release

dedicated to developing brand new solutions to age-old problems.

So, he's either working on a cure for cancer or...

or what?

Nice meeting you.

Whatever it is,

it looks like he's hiring.

I should probably go.

Clock's ticking on Ji Moon.

You've reached Danny Moon. Leave a message.

Danny, it's Sugar.

I've been trying to reach you. Call me when you get this.

Figured my best lead was to try and learn something about Jesus Jaquez,

the kid who died in that hospital room with Ji.

I got a next of kin address from Hannah.

Mrs. Jaquez.

Yes?

My condolences about Jesus.

My name is John.

May I come in and ask a few questions about him?

Only take a moment?

Come in.

Poor woman.

Grief. I'm familiar.

When I first lost my sister, I could barely move.

Señora.

Would it be possible to see Jesus' room?

Thank you.

Aztec art.

He had interests.

A home.

He was loved.

I'm sorry to bother you any more than I have,

but I'm hoping to spare someone else from the pain you're suffering.

I'm listening.

Thank you.

You recognize this person?

Did you ever see him with Jesus?

What about him?

The picture

in the bedroom.

The woman?

Sandra.

His mom.

Your daughter?

Yes.

Where is she?

Streets.

Drugs.

Crazy.

Was Jesus still in touch with her at all?

Yes, they were best friends.

Confidants.

She called him "Chuy."

"Chuy?"

Can I do something for you?

Like what?

Hey.

Hey.

I'd like you to make a phone call to your boss, like you did before.

I ain't got no boss, G.

I'm a CEO with a pension plan.

You seen this?

You have.

You take this photo?

Nah, you didn't.

All right. So what I'm asking is that you tell your boss

I wanna talk to the person who did.

Here.

Take it. I'm not the police.

I heard there's been a misunderstanding. I just want to clear it up.

Okay.

Let's clear it up then.

Meantime, G? You probably wanna get right the fuck out of here.

Hey. I've been calling you.

My bad, man. I've been busy.

I got a lead I wanna ask you about.

Sure, but I got work.

A friend's about to pick me up in a sec, so...

Okay. I'll make it quick.

You ever heard Ji mention the Ez4s?

- The what? - Ez4s, LA street gang.

Yeah, your brother's on their radar for some reason.

A street gang? Are you fucking serious?

I don't know what his involvement is yet. He may not have done anything wrong...

You told me he ripped drugs off a hospital, right?

- He did. - What are you talking about

he didn't do anything wrong? Ji's been doing shit wrong for fucking years.

Sorry.

Fuck.

You all right?

Something else you want to tell me about?

What are you, a fucking shrink now? I haven't even paid you for the PI part.

Don't worry about the money.

Yeah, well, you're rich, so you can say that.

That's not why.

No?

How many of those expensive-ass suits do you own?

How many exactly?

I don't know.

'Cause you're rich, bro.

Look, my friend's about to be here. Thanks for checking in.

Listen, Danny. Whatever's happening...

Whatever it is that's going on, just...

let me help you.

No.

Fucking Ji.

Hey, there he is.

Welcome back, champ.

Okay, coming up.

All right, bitches. Let's get to work.

Yo, yo, yo, come on, chill! Chill, bro! What the fuck?

- Get the fuck back. - What are y'all doing, man?

Get the fuck off me, man! Fuck!

Yo, chill!

Let's go, let's go, let's go.

Ay, yo, let's go.

Let's go, come on.

Get all that in the truck. Let's go.

Yo, where did that guard come from?

I didn't see him, and then he was... He was right up on me.

It's all right, man, chill. You handled the fuck out of him.

Fuck.

Hey.

Thank you.

So, I stole some bathrobes from the pool.

I just took a bunch of them. Piled them up.

Walked right through. I mean, no one said shit.

I'm gonna sell them on eBay.

Cool.

Okay.

What's going on here?

Sometimes I make mistakes, but most of the time.

I see people real well.

You see people.

What do you see in me?

More than a thief.

Yeah. You got that right.

And I need a partner.

In private investigation. I don't even know what's...

I'll teach you.

All right, you got a camera? Not a phone camera. An actual camera.

No. I know what you mean. Yeah, I can find one.

You got a car?

A not-stolen one?

Sure.

All right.

Does that figure look okay?

- Yeah? - Per week?

Okay. You start tomorrow.

I've done some things.

More than bathrobes and cars.

I've done some things too.

All right.

Let's fucking go.

- Okay. - All right.

Caesar salad and New York strip.

I put it on your room.

You have no new messages.

Sugar.

I heard you want to talk to the man who took that photo.

Yeah.

Grab a pen. Here's an address.

Go ahead.

I have a bad feeling about this case.

Says the hero in every PI movie ever made.

And he's usually right to worry.

It only goes from bad to worse from that point on.

But he keeps going.

He doesn't stop.

Not on a case like this.

He can't.

He's a PI. And the PI has to know.

And so he'll keep going...

and going...

right up until the very end.

And now the purple dusk Of twilight time.

Steals across the meadows of my heart.

High up in the sky The little stars climb.

You wandered down the lane And far away.

Leaving me a song that will not die.

Love is now the stardust of yesterday.

The music of the years gone by.

Sometimes I wonder.

Why I spend.

The lonely night.

Dreaming of a song