All language subtitles for TheBoondockSaints-uncut_1999_BRRip-FLAWL3SS.EN

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done…

on Earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread…

and forgive us our trespasses…

as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation…

but deliver us from evil.

For Thine is the kingdom, the power…

and the glory now and forever.

–Amen.
–Amen.

Thank you, Father Macklepenny…

for coming all the way
across town to be our guest speaker.

When I raise my flashing sword…

and my hand takes hold on judgment…

I will take vengeance
upon mine enemies.

And I will repay those who haste me.

O Lord, raise me to Thy right hand…

and count me among Thy saints.

And I am reminded on this holy day…

of the sad story of Kitty Genovese.

As you all may remember…

a long time ago,
almost 30 years ago…

this poor soul cried out for help…

time and time again…

but no person answered her calls.

Though many saw…

no one so much as called the police.

They all just watched as Kitty
was being stabbed to death…

in broad daylight.

They watched as
her assailant walked away.

Now, we must all fear evil men.

But there is another kind of evil…

which we must fear most…

and that is the indifference…

of good men!

I do believe the monsignor's
finally got the point.

Aye.

Hey, Conner!

What?

Yeah!
Who's the master?

You're gonna be training her today.

Aye.

–Basically, the rule of thumb here is—
–Wait. Rule of thumb?

In the early 1900s, it was legal
for men to beat their wives…

as long as they used a stick
no wider than their thumb.

Can't do much damage
with that then, can we?

Perhaps it should've been
the “rule of wrist.”

I knew you two pricks
would give me problems.

Come on. It's St Patty's Day.
It's all in good fun.

Ah, fuck you!
And fuck you too!

We're sorry, all right?
Just relax.

Oh, shit.

Hey, fuck-ass, give me a beer.

Listen, boys, I've got some very bad news.

I'm gonna have to close down t-t-the bar.

The Russians are buying up buildings
all over the town, includin' this one.

Fuck! Ass!

And they're not lettin' me renew my lease.

Let me talk to my boss.

–Maybe he can do something.
–What the fuck's your boss gonna do?

Listen, fellas,
I don't want anyone to know.

So you keep your traps shut!

You know what they say:
people in glass houses sink s-s-ships.

Hey, Doc, I gotta buy you,
like, a proverb book or somethin'.

This mix-and-match shit's gotta go.

What?

A penny saved is worth
two in the bush, isn't it?

And don't cross the road
if you can't get out of the kitchen.

What's this, then?

I am Ivan Checkov,
and you will be closing now.

Checkov.

Well, this here's McCoy. We find
a Spock, we've got us an away team.

Me in no mood for discussion.
You, you stay.

The rest of you, go now.

Why don't you make like a tree
and get the fuck out of here!

You know he's got
till the week's end, right?

You don't have to be hard-asses,
do ya?

It's St Patty's Day.
Everyone's Irish tonight.

Mmm.

Why don't you just pull up a stool
and have a drink with us?

This is no game! If you won't go…

we will make you go.

So these two guys are kickin'
the shit out of each other, right?

This guy picks up
an old kitchen sink or something…

and fuckin' crushes this guy with it.

It makes a big bang.

Look at him. His spine's all crushed.
Had to be one big motherfucker.

Huge. Three, four hundred pounds.
Fuckin' huge.

–That's pretty thin.
–Very thin.

Okay.
All right, all right.

Say these two guys right here, they don't
even know the fuckin' huge guy.

They're just staggering
home from a bar still…

all fucked up from St Patty's last night.

They decide to take a shortcut
down through the alley.

Wrong fuckin' alley, huh?

'Cause this big motherfucker,
he's just waitin' for 'em, right?

And what could be more perfect
for a strong-arm robbery?

Two drunk guys all bandaged up.

They're already injured,
for Christ's sakes. Look at 'em.

These guys are stumblin'
through the alley.

This guy takes a blunt object,
fuckin'-waah!

Hits the guy with the bandages around
his head, right? Why? 'Cause he's smart.

He knows the guy with the bandage
around his ass, he ain't goin' nowhere.

He's goin' fuckin' nowhere!

Where are you goin'?
Nowhere! That's right.

He ain't done yet. He comes over
and jumps on this guy's back…

and crushes him to death.

I feel something big here.

I wouldn't be surprised to see
a lot of these turnin' up.

Brilliant!

So now we got a huge guy theory…

and a serial crusher theory.

Top notch.

–What's your name?
–Detective Greenly.

–Who the fuck are you?
–That's who the fuck I am.

Listen, I gotta do this
by the numbers.

I.D just came back on these guys.

They got connections
with the Russian mob.

That makes it a federal matter.

And Agent Smecker here is heading up
the investigation with our full cooperation.

–Why don't you get me a cup of coffee?
–Who the hell is this?

–A café latte, twist of lemon…
–What the fuck-…

–Chief, what the fuck is this?
–Sweet 'N Low.

Mitchell, Langley!

–Yes, sir.
–Find the manager of this building.

See if he's had any complaints
of water coming down…

in any of the apartments
starting just this morning.

Langley, you take that building.
Same thing.

Chaffey! Newman!

–Yes, sir.
–Look in the trash around their hands.

See if you can find me two bullet casings…

fifty-caliber if my eyes serve me right.

Newman, rip through this shit.

If this was a sink…

find me some metal parts.

Give me a drain cover,
faucet or something.

Got it right here.
It's a 50-cal.

Chief, can you get ballistics down here…

and tell 'em they have to dig
a 50-caliber slug…

out of a brick wall and locate another
that's been fired through a Dumpster?

We have the best
ballistics guy in the world.

–I can have him here in ten minutes.
–How did you know that?

Liquid paraffin.

Came up positive.

And bullet holes are usually a big clue.

Nobody reported any gunshots.

This is an Irish neighborhood.
I'm surprised you even got a phone call.

You know, I can't find
the second one, sir.

Look under the body.

Oh, yeah, there it is.

You guys ready for this?

This was no gangland assassination.

Though creative,
it was way too sloppy.

Something went wrong here.
This has “personal” written all over it.

Agent Smecker.
Yeah, this is all illegal loft housing.

There's no manager on the premises,
but they found a lady on the fourth floor…

who said she had water dripping
down on her whole place.

–It started just this morning.
–Fourth floor, huh?

Mm-hmm.

Then we're headin' to the fifth.

Come on. Let's get out of here.
You're reachin', man.

–It's a theory.
–I don't know. No way.

You know how big a guy's
gotta be to do that? Fuckin' huge.

Oh, really? I might just be
wantin' a bagel with my coffee.

I ain't gettin' him no fuckin' bagel.

We'll start the ass kissing with you.

Agent Smecker. Agent-

Listen, I know this neighborhood
pretty good.

There's a bar down the block
named McGinty's.

It stands a good chance
they were there last night.

Good work, Mitchell.

I'll check it out myself.

Look at the ceiling.
Sense of touch alone.

Wait until you feel me move.
Ooh.

So quick you couldn't
even feel it go, could you?

Let's try it again.
Try it again. Look at the ceiling.

It's Doc.

–Thanks for comin', Doc.
–Jesus Christ!

What the fuck happened?
Are-Are you b-b-boys all right?

–We're alive.
–An F.B.I agent came by the bar…

and he left me his c-c-ca—

He left me his c-c—
Oh, he fuckin' gave me this. Fuck!

Ass! What are you gonna do?

We oughta turn ourselves in,
tell him it was self-defense.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
That's what he said.

How the fuck's he know that?
We haven't spoken to anyone.

–D-D-Don't know.
–He d-d-didn't say.

All right. Listen, Doc,
we need you to do us a favor.

–A-A-Anything.
–Just hold on to this for us.

We're gonna come back
for it when we get out.

Right.
Fuck! Ass!

None of that cursing was directed at you.
He's— He's a bit—

First of all…

I'd like to thank whichever one of you…

doughnut-munching,
barrel-assed…

pud-pulling sissies
leaked this to the press.

That's just what we need now-…

some sensational story in the papers…

making these boys out to be
superheroes triumphing over evil.

Let me squash the rumors now.

These two are not heroes.

They're just two ordinary men…

who were put in
an extraordinary situation…

and they just happened to come out on top.

Yes, nothing from our
far-reaching computer system…

has turned up diddly on these two.

All we know is what
we found out from the neighbors.

And the general consensus is…

they're angels.

But angels don't kill.

And we got two bodies in the morgue…

that look like they've been serial-crushed…

by some huge, friggin' guy.

Are we considering these guys
armed and dangerous?

Well, not armed.

If they had guns, they would've used them.
But dangerous? Very.

Now, what makes you think
they're dangerous?

Maybe they're just protectin' each other.

Hey, look, I-I-I'm not sayin'
one way or the other.

Just be careful and go
by the protocol on this.

It's grunt police work
that's gonna bring this one in.

These guys are miles away by now.

But if you wanna beat your head against
the wall, then here's what
you're lookin' for.

They're scared, like two
little bunny rabbits.

Anything in a uniform or
flashing blue lights…

is gonna spook 'em.

Okay? So the only thing we can do
is put a potato on a string…

and drag it through South Boston.

Thanks for comin' out.

You'd probably have
better luck with a beer.

You would.

–Oh, fuck.
–Hey, Greenly.

Onion bagel, cream cheese.

This conversation is going to be recorded.

Just answer to the best of your knowledge.

Excuse me, sir.
Please.

Okay, we're ready.

You boys are not under oath here.
Just answer the questions.

I'm assuming…

you knew these guys from before, huh?

We met them last night.

They had some
pretty interesting bandages.

Know anything about that?

Listen, if you want to fight,
you can see you're outnumbered here.

We're trying to be civil,
so I suggest you take our offer.

I make the offers.

Hey, Boris.

What would you do…

if I told you…

your pinko Commie mother
sucks so much dick…

her face looks like an egg?

–Fuck you!
–What are you doin'?

Stay away!
He can take care of himself!

Freeze,
you fuckin' Irish faggots!

Get the fuck up!

–Come on!
–Get your fuckin' hands off of me!

Cuff yourself around the back!
Cuff yourself!

Cuff it!

You know why I fucking come here?

I come here to kill you.

But now, I no think I fucking kill you.

I kill your brother.

Shoot him in the head.

–Fuck you!
–Gotta go.

Conner!

It was just a fuckin' bar fight!
You guys are fuckin' pussies!

I hope your conscience is clear, Irishman.

So, how is it…

that you guys are fluent in Russian?
–We paid attention in school.

Do you speak any other languages?

–Aye. Our mother insisted on it.
–French?

Oh, that's beautiful.

–What's that?
–It's Italian.

Jawohl.

What are you guys doin' workin'
at a friggin' meat packing plant?

–Uh, Agent Smecker?
The press is everywhere.

Yeah.

They're just goin' nuts for these guys.
I don't know what you wanna do.

You're not being charged.
It's up to you. You wanna talk to 'em?

–Absolutely not.
–No pictures either.

Is there any way that we could stay here?

Uh, yeah. You know, we have
an extra holding cell you guys can-…

–Can they stay?
–Well, we'll have…

to check with your mom.

But it's okay with me
if your friends sleep over.

Time to feed the dogs.

Okay, people. Okay.

This is our official statement.

The MacManus brothers
are not being charged with a crime.

This is a clear-cut case
of self-defense.

They are being released
at an undisclosed time and location…

in accordance with their wishes.

Do the MacManus
brothers have any priors?

Can we speak to the brothers?

–Hey, Rocco, how you doin'?
–Hey!

Yeah!

What have you got there?

–Ahh.
–Very nice.

This poor soul…

cried out for help.

They watched
as he simply walked away.

Indifference of good men!

Nobody wanted to get involved.

Nobody-…

Whosoever shed man's blood…

by man shall his blood be shed.

For in the image of God
may deem a man.

Destroy all that which is evil.

So that which is good may flourish.

What the fuck is that?

It's that fuckin' Russian's pager.

Let's go.

How are ya?

–Keep the faith, man.
–Fuckin' blow me.

–What was that? Have you got a pen?
–Yeah. Here you go.

–Thanks. Be right back.
–Good morning, son. How are ya?

–Good morning.
–We'd be honored if you would join us.

–See this?
–What's this?

Saints?

Body of Christ.
Body of Christ.

Amen.

That's not funny, man.
Give it here, package boy.

Joey Beevo said it was important.
Said to give it to him myself.

Give me the fuckin' thing.

Sit the fuck down.

So, I'm Rocco.
I'm the funny man.

I'm so fuckin' funny.

–Fuck you, Vincenzo.
–Uh-huh.

How did you get that shiner on your eye?

What's the matter, someone
didn't think you were very funny?

I caught your show at
the Velvet Room at the Holiday Inn.

Loved it when you busted into
“Viva Las Vegas.”

Hey, hey, hey.

You insignificant little fuck!

I always get my money,
you cocksucking bastardo!

The '90s are killing me.

I shouldn't have done that.

You're not supposed to tell a guy
you're gonna kill him no more.

I gotta tiptoe through the tulips
with these assholes.

Taking all the fun out of the job.

Pappa Joe,
you want me to go now?

All the boys tell me how you
make them laugh when you come around.

What a crackup you are.
What do they call you?

Uh, the—

The-The funny man.

The funny man.

I'm having a shitty day.
I'm depressed.

Tell me a funny joke.

Now?

A joke? Uh—

Um, uh, a joke.
Yeah, all right.

Um, there's these, uh,
three guys-…

a-a-a spic…

a-a-a white guy and a black guy.

–Nigger!
–Yeah.

N-N-Yeah.
And they're walkin' along the beach.

They see this pot.
They rub it, a genie comes out.

Genie says you can wish
for anything you want.

He asks the Mexican what he wants.

And he goes…

“I want all my people in America
to be happy and free in Mexico.”

So the genie— Poof!
And all the spics are in Mexico.

–And then he asks the black guy—
–Nigger.

Yeah, that's what I said.

He goes to the nigger,
says, “What do you want?”

And he goes…

“I want all my African—…

”my nigger brothers in America…

to be back in Africa
and happy and everything.”

So the genie goes poof!

And, um, all the niggers in America…

are in Africa.

And this is goin'— I'm not funny today.

I know. I'm havin' a hard day.
I-I-This joke sucks.

It's just a stupid joke.

Continue the joke.

So the genie says to the white guy…

“What's your one wish?”

And the white guy goes,
“You mean to tell me…

all the niggers and spics
are out of America?”

The genie goes, “Yeah.” He says…

“Well, um, I'll have a Coke then.”

“I'll have a Coke.”

Yeah. Everybody's out…

so he just wants a Coke,
'cause that's all he needs.

–Tell me one more.
–What?

Knock yourselves out.

Fuckin' hell.

Do you know what we
need, man? Some rope.

Absolutely.

–What are ya, insane?
–No, it ain't.

Charlie Bronson's always got rope.

–What?
–Yeah.

He's got a lot of rope strapped around him…

in the movies, and they
always end up using it.

–You've lost it, haven't it?
–No, I'm serious.

That's stupid. Name one thing
you'd need a rope for.

You don't fuckin' know what you're gonna
need it for. They just always need it.

What's this “they” shit?
This isn't a movie.

Oh. Right.

Is that right, Rambo?

All right.
Get your stupid fuckin' rope.

I'll get my stupid rope.

I'll get it.

There's rope right there.

You nervous?

–A bit.
–Myself as well.

Hello?

Uh-huh. Room number?

Have we got a time of death?

We got a body count?

Uh-huh. I'll be down there in a bit.

Keep the press out.

–What are you doin'?
–I just wanted to cuddle.

Cuddle?
What a fag.

Ooh.

This is a fucking slaughterhouse.

–How many bodies, Greenly?
–Eight.

Aw, shit. I forgot about that one.
Nine. Nine?

While Greenly's out gettin' coffee,
anybody else want anything?

Shit!

So, Duffy…

you got any theories to go with that tie?

Look, fuck all these other guys.

This was their target; the fag man.

The what man?

The fat man.

Well, Freud was right.

So you think they came
for the fag man, huh?

What do you base this upon?

He was the only one done right.
Double tap back of the head.

–And the pennies?
–New hit man wants to leave his mark.

That's a possibility.

Now you Irish cops are perkin' up.

That's two sound theories in one day…

neither of which deal
with abnormally-sized men.

Kind of makes me feel like Riverdancing.

Another possibility is they were
placed there with religious intent.

Okay, some cultures still put pennies
in the eyes of the dead. Or silver.

The Italians, the Greeks.

Sicilians.

So, what's the “symbology” there?

The “symbology”?

Now that Duffy has relinquished
his King Bonehead crown…

I see we have an heir to the thrown.

I'm sure the word you were looking for was
“symbolism.” What is the symbolism there.

Let me explain it to you.

In Greek and Roman mythology…

when you died, you'd have
to pay the toll to Charon…

the boatman who ferried you
across to the Gates of Judgment.

This made sure the dead came to
atone for what they did during their lives…

Detective Alapopskalius.

Jesus. You're the first one
that ever got that.

Yeah, well, I'm an expert in nameology.

These burns indicate
that they used silencers.

Look at these entry and exit wounds.

They're almost identical.

The two bullets went in here
through the top of the skull…

crisscrossed, and exited
through the eyeballs.

This one clue tells us three distinct facts.

–Number one. Duffy?
–They shot him at a downward angle.

–They put him on his knees?
–Excellent. Number two. Greenly.

They shot him at a downward angle?

It tells us he was the last to die.

And number three. Dolly.

There was two shooters.

–Fan-freakin'-tastic.
–Hey, wait a minute.

Stay with me, boys.
What did they do…

to make two such identical wounds?

Two men of similar height
dropped this guy down.

Each puts some iron to his head
and boom! That's all she frickin' wrote.

–What about one guy, two guns?
–Ah, possible.

But unlikely.
The angles are too extreme.

A guy holding two guns to the back of…

your noodle is going to
shoot straight ahead.

He wouldn't cock out his elbows.
It makes no sense.

Besides, are you telling me
one guy came in here…

and killed eight men with eight extremely
well-aimed shots in just a few seconds?

No way.
It had to be at least two.

You and your fuckin' rope.

–I told you there would be a shaft.
–Just like on television.

Fuck.

Where the fuck are you goin'?

Shh! I fuckin' hear some shit out here.

Fuck you. I'm sweatin' my ass off
draggin' your fuckin' rope around.

–It must weigh 30 pounds.
–Shh!

We are doin' some serious shit here.
Now, get a fuckin' hold of yourself!

Oh, fuck you! I'm not the rope-totin'
Charlie Bronson wannabe…

that's gettin' us fuckin' lost.
–Would you fuckin' shut it?

You mother-…

–Jesus fuckin' Christ.
–Oh, shit!

Shepherds we shall be
for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

Power hath descended forth
from Thy hand.

Our feet may swiftly
carry out Thy command.

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,
and teeming with souls shall it ever be.

And I shall count thee
among my favored sheep.

And you shall have the protection
of all the angels in heaven.

Television.

Television is the explanation for this.

You see this in bad television.

The little assault guys creepin' through
the vents, comin' in through the ceiling.

That James Bond shit never happens
in real life. Professionals don't do that.

Well, name one thing you're gonna need
this stupid fuckin' rope for.

–That was way easier than I thought.
–Aye.

On TV, you've always got that guy
that jumps over the sofa.

And then you've gotta shoot him
for ten fuckin' minutes too.

–Christ. We're good.
–Yes, we are.

Now, what do you think
is in that little case there?

–Fuck me!
–Oh.

The hits just keep on comin'.

Ow! Give it a smell.

I love our new job.

Bastard.
This has got to be his big break.

–Yeah.
–We've got to fuck with him, right?

Okay.

Shh.

Open the door.
I'm gonna grab him by the fuckin' hair.

Sit down!

–Get down! Shut up!
–Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

We're on the same side.
Please, don't shoot.

Get on the ground!

Don't shoot, don't shoot.
We're on the same side.

Boss must've sent me
in as backup. I'm Rocco!

–I'm the funny man. That ain't my name.
–Where's your gun?

–Where's your gun?
–I'm the fuckin' funny man!

It's right here. Right here.

That ain't my real name.

What the fuck? Jeez!

It's a fuckin' six-shooter!

There's nine bodies, genius!

What the fuck were you gonna do,
laugh the last three to death, funny man?

Pappa Joe said there was only two!
In and out!

Boy, you guys sure did a good job.

Ah, shit.
You guys are good, huh?

Cool masks.
Where'd you get 'em?

–We gotta do him right here!
–Right now!

–Don't, please! I'm the funny man!
–Right.

–Don't kill me! Don't kill me, please!
–Right!

I'm the funny man!

What a fuckin' idiot!

Fuckin'-What the fuckin' fuck—
Who the fuck—

Fuck this fuckin'—
How did you two fuckin' fucks–Fuck!

Well, that certainly illustrates
the diversity of the word.

All these guys are Russian mob.

But not like those two peons
in the alley the other day.

These guys are all syndicate
bosses and underbosses.

I have a dossier on every man in this room.

Since the Iron Curtain has gone down…

the Russian syndicates
have started to come here.

And in the spirit of Glasnost, the Soviets
have opened their borders to the Mafia.

But the Italians,
they aren't convinced…

the grounds in Mother Russia are
fertile enough for organized crime yet.

So they ain't ready to commit.
But the Russians are coming here anyway.

They are unwelcome.

So, what we have here,
gentlemen…

is possibly the beginning…

of the first international mob war.

Unless I've totally missed something.

I'm live from the Copley Plaza Hotel…

where we have just been informed
that the largest multiple murder…

in Boston's history has just taken place.

We have learned that
there were nine victims…

all deeply involved in a notoriously
violent Russian crime syndicate…

right here in Boston.

Anybody you think is evil?

Aye.

Don't you think
that's a little weird, a little psycho?

Do you know what I think is psycho, Roc?

It's decent men with loving families.

They go home every day after work,
and they turn on the news.

You know what they see?
They see rapists…

and murderers and child molesters.

They're all gettin' out of prison.

Mafiosos…

gettin' caught with 20 kilos…

gettin' out on bail the same fuckin' day.

And everywhere,
everyone thinks the same thing-…

that someone should just
go kill those motherfuckers.

Kill 'em all.
Admit it.

Even you've thought about it.

You guys should be in every major city.

This is some heavy shit.

This is like “Lone Ranger” heavy, man.

Fuck it! There's so much shit
that pisses me off!

You guys should recruit, 'cause
I'm sick and fuckin' tired…

of walkin' down the street
waitin' for one of these crack-pipin'…

ass-wipin', motherless lowlifes to get me!

Hallelujah, Jaffar.

So you're not just talkin'
about mob guys, right?

You're talkin' about pimps and drug dealers
and all that shit, right?

Oh, yeah.

Fuck. You guys could
do this every goddamn day.

We're sort of like 7-Eleven.

We're not always doin' business,
but we're always open.

–Mmm. That is nicely put.
–Thank you very much.

I will fuck you up, dude.

So then we go right through
the fuckin' ceiling like this—

Oh, boy. You fuckin' guys.
You ruined me.

I'm fuckin' done.

Permanent fuckin' package boy.

Who said that?
You can take credit on that, you know?

What, are you serious?

Yeah. Fuck it.

If you think about it,
it's all you can do, really.

I mean, you can't go in there
and tell him it was us.

Climb the corporate ladder, boy.

Don Rocco.

Fuck it.

I'm doin' it. I deserve it.

I've been workin' for those fat bastards
since I've been in high school.

Look at this fuckin' place.
They're fuckin' me, man.

They can suck my pathetic little dick!

And I'll dip my nuts in marinara sauce…

just so the fat bastards can get
a taste of home while they're at it.

Fuck it!
I'm doin' it.

It is done!
Shit!

–Shit! Shit!
–Oh, my God!

–What the fuck!
–I'm hit!

Oh, fuck!

What the fuck!

I can't believe that just fuckin' happened!

–Is it dead?
–Oh, my God!

Donna's gonna be angry about her cat.

Shit.

She's on every drug known to man.

She'd have sold the thing
for a dime bag. Screw her.

I do kind of feel like an asshole, though.

Yeah, Roc, you sound
real remorseful there.

She ain't been around in weeks anyhow.

Listen, something's been
botherin' me about last night.

What?

What if your boss knew how many fellows
were supposed to be there?

–What are you— What are you sayin'?
–Think about it.

Nine men, six bullets.

Think they sold me out?
No way. No way.

Listen, he probably knew
you'd end up nailin' the fat guy…

maybe one or two more, but he had
to know you weren't walkin' out of there.

Figure it out.
The shooter's dead at the scene.

There's no in-depth investigation.

They'll just slide right off
his fuckin' back.

'Cause what the fuck?

As much as I love you, man,
you are not exactly Don Corleone.

No, no, that—

That's just not the way things are done.
Besides, how does he know…

I just don't get in there,
see there's too many…

of 'em, serve 'em their fuckin' food—

Because he fuckin' knows you, Roc!

A smooth hitter would have gone in there,
seen it was a fuckin' wash and slipped out.

But you, he knows this is your only shot.

You've been waitin' 18 fuckin' years.

No. No, no.
That-That-

That just ain't the way—
No, that's bull-That's bullshit.

You don't know what you're talkin' about.
That's just not the way things happen.

I mean, thanks for your concern and all,
but that just ain't the thing of it.

Do me a favor, all right?
Just roll it around a bit on your way in.

–Will you for me?
–No. No rollin'.

Nothin' needs to be rolled.
Fuck!

Where the fuck are you goin'?
Did you tell him?

Of course I fuckin' told him.

–Then what the fuck?
–You guys don't know that shit for sure!

Oh, you're such a fuckin' retard!

–Hey, fuck you!
–Oh, man, use your fuckin' brain for once!

Is it so unbelievable that
they don't fuckin' care about ya?

Oh, yeah, you two fuckin' micks
know what's goin' on, huh?

–Fuck you both!
–This is not a fuckin' thing you…

should gamble on, all right?

I'm the fuck out of here.

Fine! Fuck it!

What kind of flowers you want
at your funeral, you dumb wop?

–It's the last time I'm gonna see ya!
–I'll be back at nine!

–Bury the fuckin' cat!
–Listen, you get in there…

and you start gettin' a bad vibe,
you get the fuck out quick!

Hello?

–Murph.
–Hey, Roc. You okay?

Anybody call for me?

No, man.
Are you sure you're okay?

I'm fuckin' fine.

I'll catch you on the flip side.

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Pack your shit! Pack your shit!
We gotta get out of here!

–We gotta get out!
–What the fuck are you talkin' about?

I killed them!
Oh, Jesus, I killed them all!

–Just calm down. Tell us what happened.
–No!

–Rocco!
–Calm down, man.

Fuck you!
You start gettin' excited, motherfucker!

–We gotta go!
–Rocco!

–Well, how many were there?
–Fuckin' hurry the fuck up!

All right!
I love this shit!

–What the fuck is wrong with you, Roc?
–The cocksucker sold me out!

Didn't I tell you, Roc?
Did they pull on you first?

What am I doin'?
In the middle of the Lakeview!

Lakeview the deli, Roc?

–Looks like we got us a new fuckin' recruit.
–Rocco!

–What?
–Where's my cat?

I killed your cat,
you druggie bitch.

–God. Why?
–What?

I felt it would bring
closure to our relationship.

–You killed my-my—
–Your what?

My—

Your fuckin' what? Huh? Your what, bitch?

I'll shoot myself in the head…

if you can tell me that cat's name!

Go ahead! Your what?
Your precious little-…

–Skippy. Skippy.
–Oh, Jesus. What color was it, bitch?

Don't you fuckin'
yell at her like that, you prick!

Shut your fat ass, Rayvie!

I can't buy a pack of smokes without
runnin' into nine guys you fucked!

Damn! Son of a bitch.

Let's go!

Let's get the fuck outta here!

Those rat fucks! All of them
were all laughin' at me, man.

–Are you sure you killed them, Roc?
–Fuckin'-A right I did.

I had a goddamn turkey shoot over there.

–Anybody call for me?
–No, man. Are you sure you're okay?

I'm fuckin' fine.

I'll catch you on the flip side.

I'll bet it was a fuckin' test.

Vincenzo came in here shootin'
his mouth off. He made sure we knew.

But we did what
we were supposed to, huh?

We kept our mouths shut.

You? You did your part.

Fuck!

They know we're goodfellas now.

We'll get taken care of, baby.

What? Did everyone know?

Next thing you're gonna tell me
Sal was in on it.

Vincenzo told Sal first.
That fat fuck knew before we did.

At least we got our funny man back, huh?

That was funny, wasn't it?
That was real fucking funny!

No, not me! Not me!

Huh? Ha! Funny! Funny!

Funny! Funny! Funny!

Funny!

Listen, Roc, did anybody see ya?

Fuck, man, I might as well
have gone around postin' flyers.

Right out in public, man.

Liberating, isn't it?

–Let's fucking go!
–You know, it is a bit.

Conner, stop the car!
Stop the fucking car, man!

Vincenzo, that fat motherfucker,
Yakavetta's right hand!

He's the one who set me up, then he went…

around telling everybody
I was as good as dead.

Goes there every Wednesday night 10:00,

jerks off on the same
titty dancer. Never misses.

–Yeah, so?
–So? So let's kill the motherfucker!

I mean, what are you guys?
That's your new thing, right?

–Yeah, well—
–Ah, what the fuck!

I mean, who makes the cut?
Is there a raffle or something?

To tell you the truth, those first ones,
they just sort of fell onto our laps.

Well, what do you do?

We haven't really got a system
of decidin' who, Roc. It's—

Me! Me! I'm the guy!

I know everyone, their habits, who
they hang out with, who they talk to!

I got phone numbers, addresses!
I know who they're fuckin'!

I know where they live!

We could kill everyone.

So what do you think?

I'm strangely comfortable with it.

That's him.

Okay, Roc.

What? You guys got masks.

You look like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert.

Fine. Fuck it!
When we're through, she can I.D me.

I don't care. Just trying
to be professional, but no!

–It looks fine.
–No, fuck it.

No, shut the fuck up! You look good.
Put it on. You look fucking scary, man.

Now, Roc, are you sure
that you're “O-B-kay-B”?

She was in here when it all went down.

–Can she I.D'em?
–No.

–There were wearin' masks.
–Of course they were.

You scream, you're dead!
Which one's he in?

And don't make like you don't know
who the fuck I'm talkin' about!

Don't you talk to me like that,
you dirty little girl.

Oh, yeah. Give it to Daddy.

Oh, this is one sick motherfucker.

–How many?
–Three.

Two of them did the shootin'.

“…and teeming with souls
shall it ever be.”

Our little theory from last night
just got shot to shit.

Something new is going on here.

After talking to the dancer…

we know their mark
was the guy in the middle booth.

After she watches 'em whack him,
she passes out.

What the fuck are you doing?

I'll tip her!

Why are there two extra victims?

–Witnesses.
–No way they could have seen.

Allow me to enlighten you gentlemen…

to the protocol
of the porno industry…

as I'm sure you've never been
in one of these places before.

A man goes into the booth,
puts the money through the slot…

the dancer gets it on the other side.

She hits the button,
the door goes up.

Now there's only glass between you,
and that's “little fireman” time.

No way they could have seen it.

Those doors were down,
so that means this:

They looked in,
down through the peepholes…

saw these guys, opened the doors
from the inside…

pop, pop, pop,
right through the glass.

Why?

–It's like a scumbag yard sale.
–We should come down here…

once a week and clean house.

Maybe the three guys
had something in common.

No, this guy's big-time.
These two are street-walkin' scum.

Then that's what they had in common—
they're all bad guys.

Now they're all dead bad guys.

Oh, man, you gotta let me do these guys.

I'm such a moron.
I gotta make up for that tit thing.

There's no way. I've been
waitin' for this asshole.

Oh, come on.

Come on, man.
Give the guy his shot.

It's the real deal, Roc.
Evil men, dead men.

Good shooting…

shitty shooting.

Plus… we got us a genuine…

Kennedy assassination-style
bullet theory here.

Two guns were used.
The guy in the middle…

was done with both of 'em.

But this guy, he was killed…

with bullets from gun “A” only…

and this guy, gun “B” only.

But ballistics dug two slugs
out of the wall from “B”…

over here where the victim
was done with “A.”

And it's the same thing over here.

Why the crossover?

That's just fuckin' weird.
I have no idea.

Jesus, I just can't think anymore.

That scene over at the coffee shop
today just tapped me out.

What scene?

Some guy went nuts over off of Com Ave.

Shot three guys to death in a coffee shop,
broad daylight, fled the scene.

–Don't have much on him.
–Why wasn't I informed of this?

They weren't related.
The guy used a .38.

–No pennies, totally amateur.
–Who were the victims?

A couple of mob peons
and a fat fuck bartender.

Oh, isn't that beautiful?

All the lowlifes in quiet city Boston start
droppin' dead, and you think it's unrelated!

Greenly, the day I want the Boston Police
to do my thinkin' for me…

I will have a fucking tag on my toe!

Now get me a squad car
and get me over there!

I want crime scene photos
and any witness statements now!

Wyatt fuckin' Earp!

It looks like we got us a cowboy. Hmm.

“So we shall flow a river forth
to Thee…

and teeming with souls
shall it ever be.”

Hey, hey, man.
You guys gotta teach me that prayer.

–That's some good shit, man.
–Cool it, Roc. It's a family prayer.

My father's father before him.
So that's our shit.

Oh, come on!

The victims were found…

at a local adult
entertainment parlor.

These murders, coupled with
the three suspected mob-related killings…

that occurred at this local Boston deli
earlier this afternoon…

brings the death toll to six,
just today.

There is no doubt that all
the victims have been criminals.

Perhaps this explains why a public outcry…

to have these crimes stopped
has not been heard.

Ah, these two crime scenes are related.

Too many coincidences.

Same day, five hours apart…

dead mobsters in both scenes.

Now…

why did he kill the bartender?

Crime of passion. Just went nuts.
He shot everyone in here.

–Just ran out of bullets.
–Does this look like a friggin'

post office to you?

This guy came in here with intent.

Maybe he didn't know exactly what he
was gonna do, but he had a good idea.

No, the bartender
was no fuckin' accident.

Well, we didn't need any help on that.

A lot of people saw it.
Nobody's talkin'.

Figures.

Oh, look.

Are you guys seeing the pattern here?

We got big questions at both of
these crime scenes with no answers.

Why did they kill the guys
in the other two booths?

Why did they do the bartender?

Fuck!

I hate cold crime scenes!

I'm fucking leaving now.

And do me a favor.
Tell me when the next one dies…

'cause these guys are not done yet.

Fuck you.

Augustus, I need your help.

I have a serious problem.
I am not screwing around here.

I need… Il Duce.

The Duke? Huh.

What did you do?

Rocco— this package boy-…

he could bring down the whole East Coast.

If he decides to turn state's evidence…

he could take us apart brick by brick.

But he's happy, now…

with just killing us one by one.

And worse, he's good at it.

Listen, kid. I hope you understand
who you're dealin' with here.

This guy is no slouch.

When I was a boy…

you and papa used to speak of him
like he was a ghost.

Move him.

Your father and I used him
three times in 20 years…

only when things got totally fucked.

Whenever we needed
one of our own bumped off…

we'd call this guy in.

He had a thing
for clippin' wise guys.

But only one rule:

No women, no kids.

Believe me, kid,
you don't want this guy…

unless you are 100%
sure you need him.

He's a fuckin' monster.
But only one thing.

He's been rottin' in the can
the last 25 or 30 years.

Don't even know if he's still
alive or if he’s even up to it.

There.

–Well, there are ways around that.
–Yeah. Go find one.

All right.
Let's talk some business here.

I know a sick fuck makes the ones
we been doin' look like altar boys.

Worst night of my life
when I met this guy.

The guy never says
a fuckin' word to me.

We're drivin' 25 minutes…

never a sigh,
no throat clearing, nothing.

Yeah, you're always making great
fuckin' sense, you dumb bitch.

I don't care.

His face-blank, man.
Just nothin' there.

This guy takes out a whole family-…

wife, kids, everyone-like
he's ordering a fucking pizza.

This house is clean.

I knew if I didn't keep it together,
it was my ass.

He has a poker game
out back of his place…

with a bunch of wise guys
every Saturday.

Worst day of my life, man.

Well, I'm sold.

Don't worry, Roc.

We'll do this guy right,
and you'll feel a lot better.

Okay.

Here's what happened.

They waited in a parked car down
the street for the kid to leave.

There he goes.

They came in through the garage.

The kid says he leaves it open
when he takes his bike out.

Now they know the wife
is the gatekeeper. She knows the code.

Hit the numbers, lady. Hit the numbers.

–I will kill you! I will kill you!
–Don't! Her hands are taped.

Why do I always gotta be on bitch detail?

The wife says she doesn't know
what happened after she hit the code.

She just remembers going down,

but judging from the
burn mark on her back…

I think what they did
was use a stun gun on her.

Now this guy knows
that his friend is coming to the game…

and they know that this door can
only be opened from the inside.

So they wait.
And when that door opens…

man…

nobody's ready for it.

Panic, devastation.

This was like shootin' fish
in a friggin' barrel.

All of 'em.

Now these guys dove under the table.

The trajectory on the bullet showed that
they came from straight across.

So that means one of our
shooters dropped to his knees.

–Something went wrong right here.
–Shit! Shit! He ain't here!

Oh, what the fuck you mean,
he isn't here?

–I mean he ain't here!
–Look again, for fuck's sake!

I know what the fuck he looks like!

Look behind ya!

Ah! Son of a—

Oh, shit!

Shoot this motherfucker!

No!
Fucking let the bloke go!

–Let him go!
–Fuck! Jesus!

Now's your chance
to earn your stripes, Roc!

He'll fucking get killed!

It was your idea to bring him in!

One of these guys is a real sicko.

He knew this man.
He wanted him to suffer.

All right, Roc.
Now's your chance!

–You take that man!
–I don't wanna die!

Sick fuck! Sick fuck!

Sick fuck!

–All right then.
–Fuck you, fuckin'—

Now take a fuckin' deep breath
there, Roc. You did fine.

It was nicely done.

They exited out the front door.

They had no idea
what they were in for.

Now they're starin'
at six men with guns drawn.

It was a fuckin' ambush.

This was a fuckin' bomb…

droppin' on Beaver Cleaverville.

For a few seconds,
this place was Armageddon.

There was a firefight!

You son of a bitch!

Murph, are you all right?

Motherfucker!

–Roc, get the fucking bag!
–Fuckin' shit! Christ!

–Get the blood! Get the blood!
–What the fuck was that?

He shot my fucking finger off!

Roc, what the fuck? Get
the fuck out of here!

–Motherfucker!
–Fucking shit!

–Get the fucking bag!
–My fucking finger!

Fucking shit!

What if it was just one guy with six guns?

Why don't you let me do
the thinking, huh, genius?

Hey, what's taking so long
with those blood samples?

I can't get a good sample.

Oh!

There's a variable here I'm not seeing.

They used ammonia.

None of this is any good.
Fuck!

You know what that means?
Even if we get suspects in the case…

we got nothin', nothin', nothin'!

Fuck! Who the fuck are they?

I've never seen any fucking thing
like this in my fucking life!

Who the fuck are they?

Who the fuck was he, Rocco? I know
you fucking know, so don't even start.

Fuck you! I told you I never saw him before!

Well, he sure as fuck knew you!

Fuck you! Fuck you both!

Yeah? Don't start lying to us now!

We're fuckin' three amateurs here!

I'm confident that
their investigation will end…

in the apprehension of the suspects.

–Fuckin' hell.
–What? What, that guy?

That's the guy that got us off the hook
with the Checkov thing.

–And he's one smart man.
–They got nothin'.

Well, this guy is very sharp.
If he hasn't figured us out yet, he will.

–You bet your ass he will.
–Well, I'd say that makes him…

a lia-fuckin'-bility.

–He isn't to be touched.
–He's a good man.

Okay, whatever.

No, that's all wrong.
David Della—

I missed it.

Paul, you've already had quite a bit.
Are you sure you wanna—

Just pour the drink, you fairy fuck.

Whew! I smell you.

Hey, Murph.

This early mornin' church
shit's gotta go.

We have to go in the mornin'.
We're on the lam now, you know.

Hey.

You're gonna do what I say, got it?

–Yes.
–I'm sorry you're gonna have to see this.

–Don't look at me.
–I didn't see any—

Shut up.
Shut the fuck up.

Don't do this, my son.

Have you no fear of God?

That's who I'm doin' this for.
Now open the fuckin' thing, Father.

Father, I'll do you right here.

God have mercy on my soul.

You little fuck, let him go, or
I'll drop you right fuckin' now.

Okay, just calm down.
He could hurt us, brother.

–He could ruin the whole thing.
–You let him go…

or I will deliver you
right fucking here!

You won't do it. You won't, Conner.
You love me, man.

–I swear to fuckin'—
–Hello. You there?

–I swear to fuckin'—
–Hello. You there?

Y-Yes, my son.

Do your thing, Father. Don't fuck this up.

–How long since your last confession?
–Christ.

I've never confessed.

I come here for advice…

not “slalvation.”

Why have you come to a church
for counsel if you're not religious?

It's ethics.

I put evil men behind bars…

but the law has miles
of red tape and loopholes…

for these cocksuckers to slip through.

I found… out there
are these two guys…

who fix the situation
with an iron fist…

as if they had God's permission.

God's permission?
God doesn't grant—

In this day and age…

I believe what they do is necessary.

I feel it is correct.

A soul is what gives us feelings.

It's like a conduit…

through which the Lord speaks to us.

You felt your answers would be here…

in the house of the Lord today.

And you feel…
These men are necessary.

So the Lord has spoken
to you twice today.

Has He now?

You are the one who came into this church
speaking about beliefs and feelings.

Is it so hard to believe
that God has brought you here?

I guess not.

It's very easy to be sarcastic
about religion.

But it's much more difficult…

to take a stand.

I wanna stand for what
I believe in, Father.

First you have to know
what your beliefs are.

I believe that these young men are right.

–You know them personally?
–Yes.

Would they ever harm
an innocent person, for any reason?

No. They would never do that.

Well, the two Irish guys wouldn't.

The Italian guy, he might.
He's kind of an idiot.

I'm beginning to see.

All the things I wish I could do…

these guys are doing.

W-W-What should I do?

Because I am a man…

who's supposed to uphold the law.

The laws of God… are higher…

than the laws… of man.

Yes, I-I was thinking that too.
No, no. I was feeling it.

All I needed was to hear you say it.

Amen. I will help them.

–Forgive me, Father.
–Thank you, Father.

Whatever.

Amen. Good-bye.

Now listen.
Um, “dominus ominus,” you know.

And remember, you're bound. You can't
talk to anyone about this. No one.

–Just get out of the church.
–Okay.

Just get out of the church!

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

What the fuck's that supposed to mean?

–That's all you can give me?
–The light hit the side of his face.

Looked like he had a gray beard.
Maybe late '50s, early '60s.

So you're telling me
it was one guy with six guns…

and he was a senior freakin' citizen?

Yeah, and it's better if we find
this man before he finds us again.

I'll see what I can do.
How do I get in touch with you?

We'll hit Pappa Joe tonight,
right in the comfort of his own home.

We're gonna move on to New York.
It's just-…

–It's getting a bit hot for us here.
–Be careful.

All right.
Call you tonight, afterwards.

–It feels like it's still there.
–Yeah, but it's not.

I don't know who he is. Nobody does.

The Duke's a fuckin' Houdini.
He does a disappearin' act.

What did he bring him in for?

Well, he needs an outsider.
This Rocco kid is smart.

He knows everyone.
He'd spot our hitters a mile away.

Just for him— the package boy?

He's the one shootin' up all his guys,
right? He's scared of the kid.

Said he's good. He's got
every gun in the city up there.

Up where?

Up at his house.
I don't know what's going on…

but I know it's gotta have
something to do with this kid.

Oh, fuck!

We got 'em. They tried to get in
through the basement.

–How many?
–Three.

Where you goin', huh?
Where the fuck you goin', huh?

I'm fuckin' talkin' to you,
motherfucker!

–Fuck you!
–Shut up!

Shh! Shh.
Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.

Shh.

Sit up.

You have some answers for me, no?

Yeah. Fuck you.

Roc! Roc, look at me!

Roc!

Shit!

Roc!

Roc! Roc, you'll be fine!

Roc!

Okay.
What do you boys think?

–These guys are tough.
–Fuckin'-A, right.

–Ain't no fuckin' way they're gonna talk.
–I know Rocco.

He ain't smart enough for this shit.
Those other guys are the brains.

–He's just a player.
–He's a punk.

There's only one thing to do.

God! No!

Roc! Roc! No!

Roc! Roc!

No!

No! Roc!

Roc!

You can't stop! You get out of here.
Don't ever stop.

Roc! No!

No! Roc!

You motherfucker!

Yeah!
I'm gonna kill them!

–Hey, boss.
–Yeah, Chappy?

I don't mean no disrespect,
but I think we're forgettin' something here.

This ll Duce's a fuckin' animal.
He's gonna stop when someone dies.

I guarantee you right now,
he thinks this thing is on.

What?

If this guy still thinks the job is on…

motherfucker is in the bushes right now.

I am going.
You four… stay here…

and deal with it.

Do it!

–Just one fuckin' guy.
–Fuck you, Geno.

–What's the big fuckin' deal?
–Do it!

I'm going back downstairs
and workin' on these pricks.

What the fuck?

Hey.

Joey Bevo sent me over…

as entertainment.

Sorry, baby. Tonight
ain't the night for this shit.

It's really hittin' the fan in there,
you know what I'm sayin'?

Fuckin' Bevo's great, man.
He's always sendin' us primo box.

All right. Let's go.

Come here.

–What the fuck are you doing?
–Come on, man.

I haven't been laid in a week.
It'll take five minutes.

Hurry up!

Oh, baby. Oh, come to Mama.

–You're a dirty girl. No.
–Come to Mama.

Oh, come to Mama. Oh.

–You wanna ride the champ?
–Yeah, baby.

All right. All right.
Let's do it, man. Ringside.

Big, strong man.

–Come on, baby.
–Yeah, that's right. You want…

a little shot at the title?

I'll give you a shot
at the title right here…

What the fuck?

Too far.

Too far.

It's on now.

It's on now.

Hey, babe.
What's it, two for one?

“And shepherds we shall be…

”for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

Power hath descended forth from Thy ha—”

“That our feet may swiftly
carry out Thy command.

”We will flow a river forth
unto Thee…

and teeming with souls
shall it ever be.”

Standing trial today for
the third time in two years…

is infamous Mafia don
Pappa Joe Yakavetta.

Yakavetta takes the stand
to defend himself…

against allegations
of his involvement…

in the ordered killings
of no less than 17 men.

The state's case against him relies
heavily on circumstantial evidence…

and a third acquittal
has already been predicted.

Never shall innocent blood be shed.

Yet, the blood of the wicked…

shall flow like a river.

The three shall spread
their blackened wings…

and be the vengeful,
striking hammer of God.

Ah, I was with my mother.

We were at the Genovese—
the butcher-…

because on Thursdays
she makes a gnocchi for—

Mr Yakavetta…

you will demonstrate order
in my courtroom.

–Counsel, proceed.
–Look at his charisma.

–He's the next John Gotti.
–He'll walk…

even with all this evidence.

Look, all of Yakavetta's people
are on the left.

All the families of the men
he's killed are on the right.

Everyone wants some justice.

–I don't know where I was.
–Look at him.

He doesn't have a care in the world.

He's gonna walk.

You, to the back!

Shut the fucking camera!

Up top, drop your guns!
One at a time! Now! Drop it!

–Come here.
–Where are you taking me?

–What are you doing? What are you doing?
–Shut the fuck up!

Get to the back!

You people have been chosen…

to reveal our existence to the world!

You will witness
what happens here today…

and you will tell of it later.

All eyes to the front.

–Now is a good time to fucking—
–Shut your fuckin' mouth!

You must watch, dear.

It'll all be over soon.

Get down, get down, get down!

Now you will receive us!

We do not ask
for your poor or your hungry!

We do not want your tired and sick!

–It is your corrupt we claim.
–It is your evil that will be sought by us!

With every breath,
we shall hunt them down.

Each day we will spill their blood…

till it rains down from the skies!

Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal.

These are principles which every
man of every faith can embrace!

These are not polite suggestions!
These are codes of behavior…

and those of you that ignore
them will pay the dearest cost!

There are varying degrees of evil.

We urge you lesser forms of filth
not to push the bounds and cross over…

into true corruption,
into our domain.

For if you do, one day
you will look behind you…

and you will see we three.

And on that day, you will reap it!

And we will send you
to whatever God you wish.

“And shepherds we will be,
for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

”Power hath descended forth
from Thy hand…

”that our feet may swiftly
carry out Thy command.

“So we shall flow a river forth to Thee…

and teeming with souls shall it ever be.”

Did you see what happened?

Yes, I was there.

How far are we going to take this, Da?

The question is not how far.

The question is,
do you possess the constitution…

the depth of faith…

to go as far as is needed?

After the astonishing display
of vigilantism…

during the Yakavetta trial yesterday…

the largest manhunt in recent
memory is being undertaken…

to capture three men the media
have dubbed “the Saints.”

This reporter went out to the street to…

find out what you thought
about these three.

Somebody can just go out,
get a gun and shoot somebody…

because they feel they're
doing some good in the world?

–No comment.
–Making the world a safer place.

Are you kidding?

They're killing for good
and only the people who kill.

Listen to yourself.

This is gonna create
something so much worse.

–I don't think so at all.
–Well, I think you're just naive then.

I love the Saints, man.
They doin' a great job.

Keep it goin', man.
Get these murderers off the streets.

They're not out there just killing for fame.

–They just wanna be famous.
–They should be in every major city.

–Every major city.
–These guys are playing God.

This whole religious twist.
Who do they think they are?

I believe in capital punishment.
If they let me, I'd pull the switch.

Get 'em all! Kill 'em all!

The more people they kill, the better
it is for everybody. That's what they get—

No, do not do that, Laquelle,
because you don't even know!

–Sign me up, man.
–Sign me up. All right?

–Where can I sign up?
–Who are they to be judge and jury?

–No. What if your mom sees?
–No comment.

–No comment.
–I'm afraid for myself.

I'm afraid for my kids.
I'm afraid to walk down the street.

I can't even believe you're
saying that. That's crazy.

When did you turn into such a sissy?

–I think they just get off on killing people.
–Well, I have no comment.

–No comment on that, dear.
–I have nothing to say. Thanks.

All this hoopla with the media.
You guys are making it worse right now.

You're giving them the power.

By sticking that in my face,
you're giving the Saints power.

–I don't wanna talk about it.
–I really don't wanna talk about that.

You walk into some kid's bedroom,
and it's gonna be there.

You have Batman, Superman
and these Saints.

Are you losing any sleep, honey?

–'Cause you know what? I'm certainly not.
–No comment.

–Don't talk to them.
–They're damn good. They're right!

Okay? I'm ready to get busy too.

You know,
I'm ready to get busy.