All language subtitles for The 75

Please remain standing,
Mr. Dowd.

Raise your right hand.

I'd ask the chairman to please
administer the oath.

Mr. Dowd,

do you swear or affirm to tell
the truth, the whole truth,

and nothing but the truth
in the course of your testimony

during these proceedings,
so help you God?

- I do.
- Thank you, sir.

Would you please be seated?

Mr. Amayo,
you may proceed.

Thank you, Your Honor.

Mr. Dowd, I'd like you
to please keep your voice up

and speak into the microphone

so that everyone can hear you.

Were you once a police officer

of the New York City
Police Department?

Yes, I was.

How long were you
a police officer?

Ten years and five months.

Mr. Dowd,
during those ten years

as a police officer,

did you use your authority

to commit crimes
and acts of corruption

in violation of your sworn duty
to uphold the law?

Yes, I did.

While you were in uniform

and on duty,
did you commit thefts?

Yes.

Did you commit extortion?

Yes.

Did you engage
in narcotics trafficking?

Yes.

Did you protect drug operations?

Yes.

Did you engage
in personal drug use?

Yes.

How many crimes
and acts of corruption

do you estimate you committed

as a New York City
police officer?

Hundreds.

New York is
in the grips of a crime wave.

Crack is now sweeping New York.

Justice Department
officials now say there is a direct link

between crime and cocaine.

Evidence of heavy money

and heavy violent drug traffic
is all around.

It was like the heyday of crack.

Every city was having trouble
with violence.

Don't move.

New York City
at the time was having

3,500 murders a year,

and East New York
was the worst part of that.

It was a war zone.

There were empty buildings.

They were just living in them

and running electric
from the street pole

to the houses.

It looked like Beirut.

East New York at the
time was very, very poor,

so you had all
of the socioeconomic

contributors to crime,

all of that converging,
and it just...

it was a hotbed for crime
in New York City.

East New York,
Brooklyn, Seven Five Precinct

back in the late '80s

was the deadliest precinct
in the country.

The Seven Five
Precinct runs North to South

from Jamaica Avenue
to Starrett City.

Every year, we led the city
in homicides.

We led the city
in police shootings.

There was a captain that would
take a Polaroid photo and say,

"Give this to your wife

so she'll remember
who you were."

It was the highest
murder rate in the country

in a little
five-square-mile precinct.

You had the fucking
gangbangers and the drug dealers,

and you could be sitting
in the radio car on one corner

and hear shots going off
100 yards away behind you.

Who the fuck did I burn
to get put here?

It would scare Clint Eastwood.

The radio doesn't stop.

It's one call after another
after another after another.

You got a backlog of 200 jobs
to answer already.

So you handle one job.

Now you're down to 199?

No, the calls
are still coming in.

Accident, a dispute, a fire,
homicides, robberies, rapes.

You name it.
It just doesn't stop.

People on crack with guns,

drug dealers with guns,

young kids with guns.

They were violent, man.

Violent, violent, violent.

Welcome to East New York.

Welcome to the land of fuck.

My name's Ken Eurell.

Grew up in Rosedale, Queens.

Irish Catholic.

Catholic school for 12 years.

My mother worked in Manhattan
as a bookkeeper,

and my father
was a construction worker.

It wasn't a dream
to become a cop.

I became a cop because I really
had no direction in life.

I could have just as easily
been a fireman.

But the test that came out first
was the police officer test.

So that's the test I took,

and I did well,
and I was called right away.

I was called before
I was 20 years old.

We got our gun and shield,
and I get assigned

to the Seven Five Precinct,
East New York.

Before beginning your testimony

about your career
as a police officer, Mr. Dowd,

I'd like to ask you a bit
about your background.

How old are you?

32.

Are you married?

Yes, I am.

How long have you been married?

Eight years.

Do you have children?

I have two sons.

Are you from the New York area?

Yes.

Where... what
county are you from?

Suffolk County.

Will your family be listening
to your testimony here today?

Yes.

When did you enter
the, uh, police academy?

January 26, 1982.

Did you receive integrity
training at the academy?

Some, yes.

What do you mean by some?

We had visits from
Internal Affairs officers.

The life in the academy is...
is sort of like going

to a parochial school,
if you look back at it.

It was a building time,

a time to build a camaraderie

with the... with the guy
next to you, the guy...

You know, whatever side of you,

you be... you started
to form a bond as a unit.

Did you personally
treat it seriously,

the integrity training?

Uh, no.

And based on your conversations
with your other recruits,

did they treat it seriously?

No, uh, that's
how we all formulated

our own opinions from that.

And based on what you could see,

did the instructors
treat it seriously?

Not at all.

I recall having Internal Affairs

giving a lesson to the class.

And after
the individual left, the...

our academy instructor
looked at us and said,

"Now, you can go that way,
or you can go this way.

You want to be a successful cop,

you don't go that way."

And this is the academy.

I mean, I didn't even step
on the street yet,

and I'm being told, you know,

"Slide in this direction
with whatever you got to do.

Cover your ass."

That was the biggest thing you...

"Cover your ass
so that you don't have to deal

with Internal Affairs."

Mr. Dowd,

in your experiences
in your first year,

did you come to learn
what it meant

for a police officer
to be "good"?

Yes.

Could you tell
the commissioners and the public

what it means to be good

in the police jargon
as you know it?

Well, being good is a cop that
would never give up another cop.

A cop that if, uh,
he witnesses something go down,

he's... he's 100% behind
anything a cop does,

no matter what it is.

We began to form a bond
at that early stage.

If you said blue, I said blue.

You know, you said green,
it was green.

You know, I don't know.

If Johnny says it's green,
I saw green.

You don't... you didn't...

You always took the side
of the cop that was with you,

'cause he was the only one

that was gonna back you up
when you needed help.

Mr. Dowd,
at a precinct like the 75th Precinct,

did it become
particularly necessary

to forge bonds with other
police officers there?

- Yes.
- Why was that?

Survival.

Learning the streets is...
is a transition process.

And it comes
from the other cops too.

You'll learn from them
what the street is telling you

that you don't know
it's telling you.

Um, you'll learn the walk
of someone with a gun.

You'll learn the eye drift
of someone

who maybe has drugs on them.

You start to learn
body language.

But it takes...
it's a process, 'cause...

just 'cause someone darts
their eyes away from you...

you're a rookie cop;
you have no idea

why they might be doing it.

There comes a point where you
have to make a decision

on taking something
that you find

or vouchering
something that you find.

Units 2514 can transmit on...

In the beginning,
as a good rookie cop,

you're gonna voucher
what you find,

no matter what...
no matter what it is.

And then after probably
a year or two and you...

you been driving
back and forth to work

for the last, you know,
400, 600 tours of duty

and, you know, you feel
a little bit underappreciated,

you feel like no one
really cares,

you know, you're really
not stemming the flow of crime

like you thought
you were gonna...

And all of a sudden, you see
an opportunity come along,

and... you know.

Eventually, one day,
I was hurting for money,

and I just took a risk,

and I pulled over a motorist

who happened to be
an 18-year-old mystery.

Back then, it was called
a Puerto Rican mystery.

No license, no registration,
no plates, no nothing.

But he had a nice thick stack
of $100 bills on him.

And I said to him,
uh, "You know,

"I like, uh...

"You got about, you know,
$1,500 to $2,000

worth of tickets here."

So I suggested that if he
bought me a nice lobster lunch,

I could let him go.

And with that, he promptly took

a couple hundred bucks
out of his wallet,

left it on the backseat,
and pulled out of the car,

and I drove away
like I was gonna get arrested,

and I didn't, and I won.

When I first
went to the precinct,

I hear about this guy,
Mike Dowd,

and a group of his friends.

They had a reputation, a reputa...

they were
fucking out of control.

I met Mikey D,
obviously, in the Seven Five.

Every now and then,
we would be paired up.

First time I knew
I could trust Mikey was, um,

we had handled a walk-in
at the precinct.

We take this woman
over to her house.

Her husband's there.
"He's beating me.

"Can you just get me
in the house?

I want to get some clothes."

Chicky and I roll up.

We walk up
the fucking staircase...

Man in his 20s...
Rastafarian, dreadlocks...

answers the door,
and he sees us,

and it looks like
his world has just ended.

So at this point,
we know something's on.

The woman runs in, she grabs
a couple of bags of clothes,

whatever, and she runs out.

She's gone.

So Mikey grabs the guy.

We get him pinned.

As I got him on the floor
in his living room,

there was a bag as big as...
as big as the fuck...

It was...

Gigantic bag of fresh marijuana.

A 55-gallon drum.
That's the size of this bag.

It was filled with marijuana.

Couldn't even tie the top.

Stalks were sticking
out of the top of the bag.

I go, "Chicky,
under the fucking couch."

He goes under the couch,
pulls out a duffel bag.

I open up the bag.

Thing was loaded with money.

He pulls out two guns.

I go, "What else is in there?"

He goes, "Cash."

He takes the fucking bag,
closes it,

and puts it back
under the couch,

takes the two guns out.

I go, "What are you doing?

Fuck the guns.
There's cash in that bag!"

I don't know how much money
was in there.

Minimum 20 large...
$20,000, $25,000,

around there somewhere.

So I look at Mikey.
He looks at me.

And I guess right
at that point right there,

I knew I could trust Mikey
and I knew he could trust me.

So we peeled off about 8 grand,

whatever we took from him,

left the house.

I think Chicky took the two guns
'cause he's a gun buff.

We told the guy, you know,
"This is your lucky day.

You know, you're getting off
scot-free."

It was a good score.
Yeah, absolutely.

I got two months'
worth of paychecks in my pocket,

and now I'm thinking...

You know, all kinds of stuff
runs through your head.

Is this a plant?

Is, uh... is anybody...
did anybody know anything?

Where's the woman?
Is this a setup?

All of a sudden she ran out,
started to become paranoid.

This is not what cops
are supposed to do.

It's fucking with my head a lot.

I was certainly nervous.

But, you know,
after a couple hours went by,

I wasn't too worried about it.

"Well, the guy says
you took his money."

"Well, prove it.

"You got me on video?

"You got me on tape,
audio, anything?

"No?

"Well, his word against mine.

And I'm a cop."

Things began to change

when I started
to find money and drugs

at different locations.

I was in control now.

That gave me the real feeling
of being in control.

I'd been throwing this shit out
for... for years.

Now it's... now all of a sudden,

it's a moneymaker.

I'm like, "Okay."

A kid had done
a stickup on Fulton.

He ran home, hid in his house.

We knocked the door down,
went inside.

I knew we were in a coke house.

There's triple-beam scales
everywhere.

So I hacksaw
this briefcase open,

I stuck my hand,
and I ripped out this bag.

A plume of fucking
white powder goes flying.

I said, "Ha! Pay dirt!"

Bags.

I'm putting bags in my coat.

At the time, it was
$30,000 a kilo for coke.

So we know if had
a half or a one,

we were getting
$20,000 at least.

And I took the money,
bought a condo in Myrtle Beach.

I love to golf,

and I know Myrtle Beach
was a golfer's haven

and it's on a beach.

13 New York City police officers

have been suspended.

Police are accused of accepting
money from drug pushers

and committing burglaries.

It's the worst
police scandal in the city in years.

A little crew of cops

were raiding homes

and raiding drug locations.

My brother's a fireman
in the Seven Seven Precinct.

And he calls me up, and he says,

"What's going on
in the Seven Seven?"

"Cops are coming
into the firehouse,

and they're borrowing
ladders and hatchets."

The cops were using the ladders

to go to these locations
where they knew the drugs were,

and they were using the axes
to break down the doors.

These guys had
no finesse whatsoever.

These guys were
absolutely berserk.

12 officers had
been charged with corruption

in a Brooklyn precinct
dubbed The Alamo.

The Seven Seven scandal
shook up the whole department.

When that broke, there were

huge rumors
on how the next scandal

was gonna break
in the Seven Five.

So all those dirty cops
started leaving the department.

People doing crooked shit
was afraid

a new scandal
was gonna break out.

I wind up resigning
shortly afterwards

'cause, uh, you know,
I had felt the heat was on,

the pressure was on.

And I figured,
"Hey, listen, you know what?

If I resign, you know,
maybe I could beat this."

Mike Dowd was
the only one who gambled.

He bet that the department
didn't want another scandal.

The last thing
the police department wanted

after the Seven Seven

was the Seven Five to go down
in this bust situation as well.

There were not any
other cops like Michael Dowd.

He was a criminal.
Dowd was a criminal.

Look up, in the dictionary,
"I don't give a fuck,"

and Mikey Dowd's picture
is in there.

Right there.

Michael Dowd was a crook

who ended up wearing
a cop's uniform.

You know, I heard the rumors

about Michael,
you know, being dirty.

A once-in-a-generation
corrupt cop.

No, it... it don't
fucking bother me.

The normal
person that's doing wrong

is going to have
a fear of being caught.

That's not Michael Dowd.

Michael Dowd
did not have any fear.

I never had a fear
about getting busted,

because the cops around me
would never give me up.

How busy was the 75th Precinct?

How many radio runs a day

does an average
police officer handle?

I averaged
about 250 calls a month.

And in a
precinct of that nature,

you just mentioned a moment ago

that it was particularly
necessary to forge bonds

with other cops
because of survival.

What do you mean,

that you protect each other
on the street?

Yes, very much so.

Do you believe if a cop
is not a good cop

in the way you describe it

that his safety in a command
like that might be jeopardized?

Yes.

The streets of New York
and Brooklyn in particular,

you know,
it was like a bloodbath.

I mean, there was
1,000 shootings a year

in my precinct alone,

you know, 100 murders a year.

You want to go home at night.

So part of going home at night
is, the guy that's with you...

you got to trust him.

1752nd Avenue, 10-4.

About two years
working into the Seven Five,

I had an opening in my car.

Kenny was griping
that the only one left around

was this Michael Dowd.

He was trying to
find himself a partner.

I was on the no-good list,
so he wouldn't work with me.

'Cause he had heard
all the stories.

I actually went to roll call.

I said, "Stop putting Dowd
in the car.

I don't want to work with him."

And it fell on deaf ears.

We start working together.

Before you know it,

we started to get
a little bit of comfortability

working with one another.

He would take me to Joe's Bodega
for some fucking Heinekens.

We make a personal connection
about our wives.

We got married at the same time.

We're both around the same age.

We had sons at the same time.

There was a real personal
connection there.

You know, I gained his respect

and then... then his trust.

And it came to a point, I says,

"Why don't we
make this official?"

And at some point, he goes,

"You need a partner;
I need a partner.

"You know, we're both good cops.

"You know,
we got all this in common.

Let's be partners."

Our future lieutenants.

His friends would
come over and say,

"You can't be with him.

This guy's trouble."

He was totally corrupt.

They said to me,
"No, don't work with Dowd.

"You're gonna end up in trouble.

Give up the car
if you have to."

"It's no joke.

This is a big mistake."

I could see the
pain he had to endure

amongst the guys
that he was very close with

in order to become my partner.

My response was,
"He knows what he's doing out there.

"He can handle himself
in the street.

"I don't have
to worry about him.

"And all I do bad
is drink on the job.

How much trouble
can I actually get into?"

He stood by me.

Kenny's the type of guy that...

if he's got your back,
you know he's got your back.

And I really,
really admired him.

From that moment forward,
it was like a...

a true love affair.

I gave him my heart
after that moment.

Do you believe if
a cop is not a good cop

in the way you describe it

that his safety in a command
like that might be jeopardized?

Yes.

In... in what sense?

Well, uh, if a cop isn't good,

you might be more slow
to react to his, uh,

calls for help and...
which are quite a few.

Is that particularly true
if a cop is known as a rat

or a complainant or someone
who talks to supervisors?

Definitely. More so.

Even more so?

More so.

I had been in the Seven Five now,
I'd say,

approximately a year
and a half, maybe two years.

At this point,
you're learning quick.

You're moving quick.
Your mind's adapting.

You still responded as a cop,
but if you saw an opportunity,

you took and made money.

So Mike starts talking
about money day and night.

"There's money
all over this precinct."

How much money could be grabbed
and be in our pockets.

"These drug dealers got money.
Just look at these people.

"They're rolling in
with brand-new Porsches,

brand-new Jaguars."

He's looking
for any job to come over,

any situation where he could
get me to cross the line.

He needs my full participation

in order for him
to make real money.

And I told him,

you know, of some of the scores
and how much money we made,

which was, you know,
considerable amounts

for a policeman
who's making $36,000 a year.

I probably made that in scores
in the last year.

Give Dad a kiss.

I'm making about
$600 and change a week.

I have a mortgage.
I have two cars.

My wife's not working
at that time.

I'm living
from paycheck to paycheck.

The thought of money coming in
hand over fist

the way he's talking is a...

it's tempting...
tempting situation,

and it opens my mind,
which is what he wanted to do.

A few minutes ago

when you were saying

how you were making money
off drug dealers,

you also said there were
other ways to make money.

Is that what
you're referring to?

Yes, there are other ways,

like, uh, burglaries, uh...

There are...

Well, did you actually
engage in burglaries?

Yes.

Will you tell us some
of the circumstances, please?

Um...

A job comes over the radio.

A woman's house down
the block was burglarized.

We get to the place,

and there's
this high-school-aged girl

standing outside her front door.

And we start going
through the whole place,

find out there's no burglars
in the building.

I had gotten a new partner
at the time,

and, uh, I had to prove
to him that I was good.

So in order to prove
to him that I was good,

I had to...

I had to give him some reason
to think that I...

to know that I was good.

Mike grabs the girl and goes,

"Do you know if your parents

kept any money
or valuables anywhere?"

So she called her mother,

and her mother told her
where the money was hidden,

and I found it...

for her.

But she never got it.

And he reaches up,

and he's feeling his hand
around up there,

and he goes,
"Nope, there's nothing here.

They must have got it."

And I'm not thinking
really anything of it,

and we drive away.

And Mike reaches
into his pocket,

pulls out a $100 bill,

and goes, "This is for you."

I'm like,
"What the hell is that?"

He goes, "You didn't even
see me take it, did you?"

He knows where it came from,

and he accepted it willingly.

And I put it in my pocket.

That $100 sat
on the top of my locker

on the top shelf
for the longest time.

I don't want to say
the $100 bill haunted me,

but I didn't spend it.

And a couple of days later,
I was in court,

and he's working
with this female cop.

We get in the car,

and we get a call for a burglary

over on Hegeman Avenue.

We get to the house.

I'm the lead cop in...
into the house.

Anti-Crime shows up,

which is the plainclothes unit
for the precinct.

I happen to just go
back of the closet

and in the closet's Anti-Crime.

And the guy picks up a bag...

There's a green fucking
garbage bag filled with cash.

So I look at him.
He looks at me.

I go,
"What are you gonna do, huh?

"Fucking spend the whole day
vouchering cash?

Just leave it there.
Fuck it."

So Mike smooth talks Anti-Crime
and explains to them,

"Oh, you got to take
all that back.

"You got to stamp each bill.

"You got to initial each bill.

That's gonna take you
for-fucking-ever."

"Yeah, you're right."
He puts the bag down.

And I go back, rip open the bag,

take about 4, 5 grand,
put it in my pockets.

I go...'cause I couldn't
take the bag out.

There's cops all over the place.

We get in the car.

Back then we didn't
have cell phones,

so I went over to the payphone
and called Chicky.

I get a call from Mikey,
and he says,

"Listen, I need you
to get over to this address.

"I was just there.

"I saw this bag full of money,

"but I got a new partner,

"and I'm not doing anything
in front of him.

"Need you to get over there
right away while I'm working

so this way,
I can watch your back."

I got a bag full of money
in an apartment,

and I'm gonna be...
I'm keeping an eye on it.

I says, "Mikey, I'm stuck.

I don't have a car
at this point."

I said, "Go rent one.
Go buy... just get one."

"You better call somebody,
you better steal one,

you better do something,
but you need to get it."

So I circled the block
for an hour and a half

just making sure no one
would go in the house.

This way... any way
you could circle a block,

I didn't leave that door,
basically.

I don't... I'm sort of
suggesting to her

that I'm sort of keeping
an eye on the house.

You know, it's our
responsibility to sort of

safeguard the location.

Finally I get ahold
of somebody who has a car,

and we go over there
dressed as detectives.

After about the 40th time
I circled the fucking house,

Chicky pulled up...

I knock on the door.

I flash a shield,
a phony shield,

to the landlord.

And he looks at it...

"What can I do for you,
Officer?"

"I need to get
into apartment so-and-so.

The cops were just here.
I need to check it out."

We get in there.

Your chest is blowing up,

'cause it's one of those things

where you don't know
what's gonna happen next.

You know what's there,
you know what you're doing,

all of that,
but the adrenaline rush...

it's nothing you ever felt.

And that rush goes on...

doesn't die down till
maybe 15, 20 minutes later,

till you're home.

Doesn't die down,
and you get the shakes.

I was in there maybe,

tops, minute and a half.

Good cop shows up,
what do I tell him?

I'm not even on the job anymore.

I know I got Mikey
handling everything outside

as far as any other units
showing up

or anything like that,
so I know I'm pretty good there.

So the only other thing
I'm worried about is a bad guy.

Anything could have happened.

I might have had
to tune somebody up.

I might have been dead.

We search, and exactly
where Mikey said

he saw this bag of money,
it was there.

It's all packaged the way
drug dealers package it

with the rubber band,
$1,000 bundles.

Thousands of dollars in it.

Thousands of dollars in it.

The car takes off.

I go, "Oh, my God,

my buddy Chicky's here."

I pull him over.
I go "How'd we do?"

He goes, "Oh, we got
a fucking big bag full of cash,

"and we're going back
to my buddy's house,

and we're gonna count up.

How much you got?"

I said, "I don't know,
5, 6 grand."

So I fucking banged out early,

drove over to my friend's house,

jumped in a limousine,
and drove to Atlantic City

counting the cash we just

fucking pulled off on this job.

And we go to Atlantic City,

and we turn all
of these 10s, 5s, and 20s

into $100 bills.

We sit down, and we play awhile,

we eat awhile, whatever it is,

and then we come back

with the clean money.

You know,
to put 11, 12, 15, 20 grand

in your pocket in one day,

you're like, "Holy fuck,
I just made my year."

Forget about Beverly Hills
and all that other stuff.

The ghetto is one of the richest
neighborhoods there is.

"Look what you missed out on.

"This could have been yours.

"We could have went back
after Anti-Crime.

"It could have been
just you and me.

I wouldn't have had
to call them."

$50,000? Fuck.

Like any cheap cocksucker,
he was...

he was impressed by the money,

and I told him, you know,
"Far as I'm concerned,

"if there's three pieces
of rice on the table,

"my wife, my kids, then you.

"I'll go hungry.

So that's how I see this."

And he went, "I'm in."

I jumped in headfirst, man.

I went in.

Mr. Dowd, you said that
you and your partner had agreed

that you were gonna graduate
into more serious crimes

at this point in your career.

Did you accomplish
that objective?

Eventually?

Yes.

How did you accomplish
that objective?

Well, what had happened was...

You know, through a... we met a...

We had a very strong
relationship

with a local drug dealer.

His name was Mr. Perez.

I'm driving up Van Siclen,
and on my right-hand side,

I see this very attractive
Hispanic woman...

very slender, red pump heels on,

long black, flowing hair...

standing next to a shiny,
beautiful red Corvette.

Immediately I was, of course,
drawn to this scene.

You know, a beautiful woman

standing next
to a beautiful car.

I mean, how perfect
could it get?

I had my Corvette
parked outside,

which was my showroom car.

My wife was there
cleaning the car, and...

police car stopped
right in front of my shop.

This dark-skinned Dominican guy

that looked like a string bean
with long braided hair

that came down
to the middle of his back

come up to the patrol car
and said,

"Hey, Officer,
what can I do for you?"

I went, I say,
"Hey, my name is Baron."

He's like, "I don't give a fuck
who you are."

He kept looking at my wife.

I go, "What's up
with this girl here?"

He goes to me, "What girl?"

I says, "This beautiful girl
standing here.

She's beautiful."

He said, "That's my wife."

So in total disbelief, I said,

"Get the fuck out of here.

That's not your wife."

"My man, it's taken.
That's my wife."

And I said, "Holy fuck,
I can't believe that would...

Wow, you must be something."

And I think he used that
as an excuse to come into...

you know, to get close to me.

Baron Perez was the owner
of a stereo installation shop.

Auto Sound City.

In the front,
it had a little store

where they sell
all the equipment,

and in the back
was the shop we'd use

to do all the repairs
and installation.

Drug dealers
are the ones with money.

They want 18 speakers
and stereos

and all types of stuff.

More they could put in the car,
the better.

So it's obvious that he has
connections to drug dealers.

I know his clients
are drug dealers.

He knows that I know
his clients are drug dealers.

He knows that I know
he's a player.

He doesn't know how much
of a player I am at this point,

but he sees the glee in my eye.

I looked at him in the eye.

He looked at me in eye.

We made an agreement as friends.

So here I am.

I happen across this individual
running a proprietorship

with nothing but drug money

coming in and out
of the place all day long.

Maybe there's some way
we can make money from this.

La Compania is a very serious
Dominican gang.

They made a lot of money.

Millions and millions
of dollars.

La Compania was one of the most
powerful drug organizations

at that time in New York City.

José Montalvo,
also known as Chelo,

was the original leader
of the Compania

and was responsible
for its operation.

Me and my partner
are working on the drug side

of Chelo's organization.

Joe Hall and his partner
are working on the murder side

of Chelo's organization.

I have a large
carton of homicides

that I can attribute
to La Compania.

Chelo saw
himself as a businessman.

The Company was set up
very much like a business.

They had supervisors.

They had workers.
They had runners.

Runners would take the drugs
from the Heights

over to East New York,
put it in a stash house.

Then they had
the manufacturing part,

where they had to heat seal
jumbo 20s for distribution.

Their shifts matched
the police shifts,

so if a shift for a police
officer was 8:00 to 4:00,

then his shift at his spot
was 8:00 to 4:00.

For Chelo, it meant when
his vulnerability was highest,

the police presence
was lowest in the precinct.

The only aspect of it
that made it

a little different
than a business is if...

In a business, if you mess up,
you get a reprimand.

In his business, if you mess up,
you got killed.

Chelo was not
intimidating to look at,

but he has this darkness,
you know?

He was a brutal guy.

He didn't think about it
to have somebody killed.

He killed a lot of people.

The Company was very violent.

I mean, there were
murders of people

who were trying to rob them

for the money
that was in the spot.

There were murders of people
who were in the Company

who they perceived as a threat.

There were murders of rivals.

They brought people specifically

from the Dominican Republic

to work in New York,
whose only job

was to kill people
they saw as a threat.

Just by the murders alone,

we knew we were
up against a tough...

a really tough crew...

really tough crew.

The time is now
approximately 1840 hours.

We are conducting
this video surveillance

for the Brooklyn North
Narcotics area office.

My investigation,
the La Compania investigation,

was two locations
in East New York...

Pine and Pitkin
and Norwood and Fulton.

Early on in the investigation,

we received information
about Chelo,

that he was going to be
at Norwood and Fulton Street.

I had borrowed a, uh, very
nondescript surveillance van.

And we were right in front
of the Pichardo Restaurant

where we knew members
of the organization

would hang out,
the bosses would hang out.

Tom and I are in the van,

and we're comfortable;
we're having our coffee.

And then slowly we start
to see people show up.

So Tom, being a DEA agent,

he starts taking the shots.

And we're pretty excited,

because we know
that everybody showing up

is a part of Chelo's crew.

And we said, "Well,
we'll be able to identify

"who this person is,
this person is,

this person is,"
'cause at that point,

we had cooperators
that would point to us...

"This is so-and-so;
this is so-and-so."

So we're saying,
"This is great."

Time goes by, and I kind of,
like, look over,

and I saw a quick glance.

I'm giving it
a little bit more time,

but I'm getting
the heebie-jeebies.

I'm saying, "Something's up,

the way they're looking at us."

I said, "Tom, that's enough.

Wrap it up.
We got everybody."

As I start the van, vroom,

of course they know no one's
come in and out of that van,

and they've had their eye on it.

And I hear, "Mira! Mira!"

And then I see a guy walk over

and pop the trunk
of a blue Chevelle.

The back comes up,
and they start reaching in,

and they start
bringing out hardware.

I saw about maybe
four or five guns

come out of the trunk
of that car.

And I see
a fucking street sweeper

come out of the trunk
of the car.

And I said,
"Oh, my God, this is it.

We're fucked."

I had my little five-shot,
Tom had his nine,

but we were fucking...
we were sitting in there

like we were in a, you know...
like fish in a barrel.

And as they start
to bring out the hardware,

I get the car around in time.

As we pulled out,
two rounds were fired.

So now I'm really
flying out of there.

And I'm looking at the rearview
mirror, of course,

and I see the two headlights,
and then I...

Vroom, they start
flying towards us.

So now I go, "Fuck."

They are absolutely in pursuit.

I put over the radio,

"Seven Five squad,
I got shots fired, Central.

We're being pursued by two
vehicles at Logan and Fulton."

Central calls back,
and she said,

"Give me a description
of the car you're chasing."

I said, "Negative."

I said, "They're chasing us."

I go down Atlantic Avenue.

I go west.
I jump over the sidewalk.

There's a sidewalk
divider there.

I jump over the sidewalk.
They do the same.

They jump over the sidewalk
with their sedans.

And I start to head towards
the Seven Five Precinct,

to the fort.

I think we went
down Essex Street

or Linwood Street,

and they stopped their pursuit.

Baron says to me that
"I have a friend, Chelo..."

He has an organization
in the neighborhood.

He's, uh, not too far from here.

And he wants to know
if you can give me

some information
about Narcotics...

if they're gonna bust,
if they're not gonna bust.

I tell Kenny that we got
a deal with this guy.

What Mike came up with was,
$8,000 a week,

and we will offer our services

to this Dominican drug gang.

Chelo would pay Baron,

and I would pick the money up
at Baron's shop.

That first burglary scene
we went to

where Mike threw me the $100...

I thought I could always
come back from that.

Now we're dealing
with a major drug organization,

and it would... supposed
to get systematic payoffs?

There's... there's no turning back.

There's no becoming a cop again.

Kenny and I pick up our
money that Chelo had dropped off.

Get to my house.

Counting the money.
The money is short.

Mike is fucking pissed.

"They fucking shorted us.
They fucking shorted us."

I'm a New York City cop.

I'm taking a risk
of going to jail

for a long period of time,

and you're gonna
short me a dime?

It... he's... there's a line
he cannot cross.

Mike was mad, Kenny was mad,

and, "Fuck this,"
and, "Fuck that," and...

You're not fucking me.

It's not happening.

So I sat in front of Chelo's
drug spot for four days,

every night.

Just sat there.
Chasing people.

Hitting the lights,
hitting the sirens.

Chasing 'em, harassing 'em,
pulling 'em over.

He fucking sends
a message over to Baron,

"Tell that cop
I'm gonna have him...

I'm putting a contract on him,
gonna have him whacked."

Went to work the next day.

Happened to go down Fulton
right in front of Hale,

and here comes this Porsche,
pulling away.

I had never seen
this guy in person,

but I knew it was his car.

I pulled him over.

"License and registration."

Of course, he doesn't know
who the fuck I am,

'cause he never saw me.

He, you know,
complies with my orders,

pulls out his license
and registration,

insurance card.

I take it and throw it back
in his fucking car, and I go,

"You're gonna have me killed?"

And he looks at me,

and he doesn't know
what the fuck to do.

He's... I'm standing there.
I'm in his face.

"You're gonna have me killed?

"Why don't we do this:

"you get out
of your fucking car,

"and I'll be a real man.

"Get out of your
fucking car right now,

"and we'll do
a 20 fucking pace walk-off,

"and we'll see who wins.

"Let's do it right now.

"You fucking owe me money
and you fucking put a hit on me,

you motherfucker?"

"No, no."
I said, "Call it off right now."

I never said anything
about the money to him.

"You call it off right now,
or you see how...

"This is for real.
Like, this is for fucking real.

"You can't just tell... you're
putting a hit on a fucking cop

"and me not fucking
come find you.

I did.
Day one, I found you."

I don't know,
couple hours later,

I get a page from Baron.

He goes, "Mike,
Chelo just called me,

"told me the hit's off.

Come by.
I got something for you."

Walked into Baron's office
at Auto Sound City.

He handed me $700.

Mike is furious.

He doesn't want to have nothing
to do with these guys no more.

Baron is a... is a businessman.

So he says to me,
"I got another guy who I think

can use our help now."

So you had The Company

was a drug organization
run by José Montalvo,

who was also known as Chelo.

Then you had
another organization

doing pretty much
the same thing,

uh, run by Adam Diaz.

Nothing at all.

Because The Company was
a fucking low-scale shit.

Half a gram, gram, shit, dimes.

Dimes.

He didn't have
the connections I had.

I could take him
out of the fucking business

in a heartbeat.

But I didn't want to do that.
Why?

Because he didn't represent
no... no competition to me.

And on top of that,
his sister...

was in love with me.

Beautiful girl.

I was banging
the shit out of her.

Balls.

And you got to be responsible.

I know I had a lot
of kilos from Escobar

because I know the stamp.

When you have
a Colombian connection,

if they bring you 1,500 kilos
and you have it in a place,

you're already
responsible for that.

I don't care if tomorrow
the kilos goes down

$2,000 apiece, $3,000, $5,000...
doesn't matter.

You're already responsible
for that amount.

You better fucking
come forward with the money.

Or fucking they kill you.

Don't make
no difference to them.

I had several stores
open in East New York.

Blake Avenue, Crescent Avenue,

Van Siclen Avenue,
New Lots, and Vermont.

You...
this a regular grocery store.

Any regular customer

will walk in the aisle,

take their cereal,
take their whatever.

The other clients that will
go for the other product

will walk quietly
all the way to the back.

In the back,
it was a metal door.

You knock on that door,
and the guy will

open the door for you,
and you give him the money...

"I want half a key;
I want 62 ounces."

So when they come out of there,

they come out
with a whole bunch of grocery,

but underneath all of that,
you got kilos.

When I saw Adam
the first time, I said,

this is the guy
that we should work with.

I knew Baron
for a while already.

I took him a Porsche...

a 911, candy red,
beautiful vehicle.

And I say, "Look, Baron.

"I don't like ghetto music.

"I like Julio Iglesias.

I like Bryan Adams, you know?"

♪ Look into my eyes ♪

"But I don't like those
fucking big black boxes

with big speakers."

"I hate that shit.

But I want to hear the music."

And I says, "By the way,

don't make any holes
on my Porsche."

You're not gonna believe it.

When I came back
to pick up my Porsche,

he didn't make
not one hole on that car.

And the car sounded
like a fucking club.

Not only did he put music there
to listen to Julio Iglesias,

but he say, "You want somebody
to listen to black music,

"you... they could put it on, Adam.

But it's up to you."

I had three fucking machines
counting money.

And it's still not enough time.

Pbbt.

Baron calls me.

He's got these two
police officers

who want to talk to me about,

"They could
protect your business,

"and they could
give you information

about when they're
gonna raid your place."

I told Baron, "Okay,

let's do a meeting
with those guys."

Kenny and I discuss
a few things,

and we go in, we have
a meeting with Baron about it,

and we tell Baron,
"$24,000 in our hands to talk."

Fucking Mike
was a fucking brain.

He said... I think it was
$25,000 down payment...

so he could trust me.

I said, "No problem."

We go in the back room.

Baron makes a couple
of quick introductions.

The first time I saw Kenny...

He had the cop look,

where you say,
"Fuck, he's a cop."

Mike didn't.

From day one,
Mike didn't have that cop look.

Mike was...

like me.

Mike starts laying
it down on the line...

"$24,000 down payment,

and then you're gonna
give us $8,000 a week."

We're selling him on the point
that if we know of

or are aware of any undercover
activity in the area,

we would inform him.

"We will make sure all
the other places are raided.

"You tell us where
your competition is.

"We'll make sure
Narcotics knocks them out.

We will tell you
when Narcotics is in the area."

Diaz was all for it.

He wanted that clout.

He wanted to own cops.

"I got what I needed
to keep bringing my empire up."

I call one of my guys.

He brought me the money.

"Here, Mike.

Take a walk."

The look of Mike and Kenny,

when they first
got the payoff...

Christmas in June, maybe.

Oh, me and Mike were...
were ridiculously happy.

I mean, I know I was.

We had left there with a
nice load of money in our hands.

We're two young guys
with two young, beautiful wives

and young kids,

and it's almost like
a time for celebration.

My wife was in
the precinct that day

visiting her grandmother,
who lived in the precinct.

Michael and Kenny picked me up.

I was sitting in the backseat.

I asked how their day was.

I tell my wife,
"Reach in that paper bag.

"Can you give us
a couple of beers?

"We got some beers,
and we're gonna, you know,

have a couple of beers
on the ride home."

"Oh, no problem."

I open it up, and it was money.

And I basically screamed.

I was like...

She's just beside herself.

She can't believe
how much money's in that bag.

Money always feels good.

And I tried to reassure her,
"Don't worry.

"Everything's
gonna be all right.

We're gonna make
some money, you know."

Mike was driving
pretty erratically,

and he was going fast.

Mike was doing fucking 100
in a little blue Hyundai.

We get pulled over.

Before the cop
even was out of his car,

Mike was out of his car

walking back to the cop
with his tin out.

"What is he stopping a cop for?"

I'm like, "You just,
like, rode the median."

"I think you both are crazy.

This is trouble."

Adam would do his business...

i.e. sell his dozens of kilos
of cocaine in a day...

and at the end of the day,

he'd have to make
a serious move,

like take his money and/or drugs
out of the building

and bring 'em to wherever
his stash house was.

He asked us to ride
shotgun for him

so that if there were
people tailing him,

they would see
that he had juice...

that the police
were protecting his moves.

No one's gonna try to rob him

while they see a patrol car
ten feet behind.

Mike was in charge

to protect my stuff

from point A to point B.

We were like their...
their Brinks.

We were, you know...

protected him,
making sure he was not robbed.

He had a police escort.

Well, he did have
a police escort, yeah.

Michael Dowd got me vest.

Police officer's bulletproof
vest for me and my guys.

Original shit from the storage
in the precinct.

So my guys used to wear it,
like, with pride, you know?

Like, "Wow,
Adam got it going on.

"Adam, he controls the cops.

We don't have
nothing to worry about."

There was guys that were
competition to me.

I give you a good example:
the guy in front of me.

They call him Dominica.

Short guy.

Fat.

He think he's a gangster.

He a fucking pussy.

He started giving me
a hard time...

stealing my customers.

Because he happened to be
in front of my store,

I can't kill him.

His wife knew me.
His mother knew me.

Everybody knew me.

If he's dead, the next day,

what the fuck
is gonna happen to me?

The feds coming after me.

Can't touch the guy.

I say, "Fuck,
what am I gonna do?"

I say, "Mike, I need
this guy out of the way.

Please."

So what did Mike did?

He brought the fucking
police officer car

right in his corner.

My customers was...
were fucking going to his spot.

I said, "Wow, Mike.
You the man."

Kenny and I happened
by chance to be passing

in the back
of the location one day,

and we see unmarked cars,
guys in beards,

the whole unmarked,
droopy look going on.

And we say,
"Hey, what are you guys up to?"

And they said,
"We got a spot we're doing

around the block later."

"Okay, great."

I fucking hit the lights
and the sirens almost

and go running around the block,

jump out of the car.

I go into the bodega,

I take two Heinekens
out of the freezer,

I walk up to the counter,

and I go like this...

"Shut it down now."

So what do I do?
I pick up all my guys.

"All right, guys,
closed for the day."

"What do you mean, Adam?"

"Closed for the day.
Everyone, let's go."

I wouldn't leave
not one guy there.

I would leave the store guy,
the guy behind the counter.

20 minutes later,
we drive back around,

and they had searchlights, dogs.

The whole drug organization
was being taken down that day.

When the feds come
or the state comes

and try to purchase drugs,

"What are you talking about?

We don't sell no drugs here."

"What do you mean?
I came last week."

"I don't give a shit
where you came

"or who you fucking
purchased drugs from.

"We don't sell drugs, my man.

"We sell groceries.

"You want milk or bread?

Come and get it."

The DEA was a little bit upset,
and Brooklyn North Narcotics,

who they worked in the joint
task force with, was upset,

because they didn't find
a gram of salt in the building,

never mind a kilo of cocaine
that they were looking for.

Michael Dowd was a
very loyal part of my crew.

Between me and him was like...

more like
a brotherhood thing going on.

Like, I could talk to him

like I'm talking
to one of my first cousins.

Baron would call us on a Tuesday
and say, "Your money's here."

And it went like clockwork.

I'm stunned at the shit
I'm getting involved in.

It's surreal to me.

I'm, like,
almost outside my body.

A month ago, two months ago,
I was a regular cop,

and now I'm a criminal.

Lot of plannings
for the robberies would begin

with me and Mike talking
about it in the patrol car.

"Talked to Adam.
Adam wants us to hit this spot.

How do you think
we should find out about it?"

We throw ideas back and forth.
"Uh, let's send Chicky in."

We all meet in a certain place,
in a certain bar,

and we figure out
what we wanted to do

and what we had heard
and what we had saw, and...

We started to get the reports

from wherever
Narcotics had been.

If Narcotics went
to a building or a location,

we would start
to stake out the location.

Tried to figure out, okay,
when the money was coming in,

when it was going out,

who was coming in,
who was going out.

Who's the same guy
we keep seeing all the time?

Pull him over.
Pat him down.

"I see you here all the time.
What are you doing here?"

"Oh, no."

"It says you live in Queens.
This is Brooklyn.

"What are you doing?
You visiting somebody?

"There's not a house
around for blocks.

What are you doing?"

Stuff like that.

We would check it out first,
hit it later.

Mike had a friend
in the police precinct.

Tall guy...

his fucking hands are like
three of my hands.

Uh, yeah, Walter.

Fucking big guy, huge guy.

Motherfucker's big.

Walter's a madman.

Just straight-up adrenaline.

Go through the window,
go through the door,

didn't bother.

Straight-up madman.

Michael liked the idea
of me being around

because I was a big fucking guy.

6'5", 290 pounds.

I'd break your fucking neck
if your neck needed breaking.

The first time I saw Walter,
I said to myself, "Bad."

We liked to have coverage:

cops working and cops off duty.

We could put these things
together where we were on duty,

and if the police got called,

we'd be the responding
police team.

We put it all together,

and then, um, we hit the place.

You walk in like you own
the fucking place.

Everybody on the floor now!

Fucking do what I tell you!

Shut the fuck up!

You knock somebody down,
you know,

you put a gun
to his fucking head,

you fire a shot
over his fucking head...

that's an attention-getter.

Mikey's just crazy.

He'll do what he wants,
when he wants,

and where he wants to do it.

Michael's favorite line was,

"What the fuck are you doing
with my money?"

They put everyone on the floor,
fucking take their money,

take their drugs.

Hell, man,
it's all fucking police tactics.

That's what they taught us
in the police academy.

Same way you were taught...
got a guy in the front,

guy in the back,
got an entry team.

They trained us to see things,

make sure you're safe
and your partner is safe.

And if all that works,

you walk out of there with
the bag full of fucking money

and the four or five people
that you left behind saying,

"What the fuck just happened?"

There's plenty of times

where we had to basically
knock people out.

There's times
where we had to beat people.

We weren't leaving there
empty-handed.

No.

Well, they just lost
50 grand in drug money

and five kilos of cocaine.

what are they gonna report?

Guys knew if they ratted us out...

wouldn't be pretty.

Not gonna say... sit here and say

that we would kill somebody
or something,

but these guys knew
not to fuck with us.

So he went in there, fucking
put everybody on the floor,

guns in the fucking air,

fucking...

kicked ass.

This guy named Franklin...

fucking dopehead
fucking asshole.

It was him and...
the guy's name is Coke.

This guy got a fucking Uzi,
nine-millimeter...

all kinds of fucking weapons.

Elvis is ready,
closing up this place.

He had to put all the money
together and bag it up,

$10,000 a package.

All of a sudden,

Franklin and Coke come
and stick up the place...

stick up Elvis,

stick up 14 of my guys.

So we heard a commotion
on the stairs,

and we saw Franklin.

And the guy put a Magnum.44
right on the back of my head.

The room went quiet,

because I was just
waiting for that pop.

Meanwhile, they were
just taking everything.

It was Christmastime.

I was so fucking embarrassed.

How the fuck... I have people
with guns and everything,

and these guys made it through.

Went all the way upstairs
to the third floor.

Franklin is a fucking guy
who has a drug habit,

who don't fucking see no danger.

He don't give a shit.

He goes to talk to the guy

who's backing up my door
in front of the building,

and he grabs the guy
in the door and say,

"Open the fucking door.

I'm going upstairs."

The guy opens the fucking door.

You open the fucking door,
everybody else is in danger.

See, that's the difference
between real guys

and a fucking pussy guy.

I would never open that door.

Kill me.
I'm not opening that door.

Phew, wow...

Got to be $700,000, something.

I'm not worried about the money.

That ain't shit to me.

My problem is,
they making my spot hot

'cause they started
shooting to the air,

so the cops came.

I told Mike and Kenny,

"I have a lot of money for you
to find this motherfucker,

"and just fucking put him
in the car, and call me.

I'll take care of the rest."

Me and Mike, we're off;
we're gone.

We're out looking for Franklin.

Now we got to get
our product back.

That's our product.

This guy was
pissing off our boss,

as far as we were concerned.

Within, like, six or seven days,

Kenny and I found him,
pulled him over.

Yeah, he did.

Um...

he's not around anymore.

Now, I'm not saying
I killed him.

He's not around anymore.

Who did you consider to be
your primary employer, in fact,

at this point, Mr. Dowd:

the department
who gave you your shield

or the drug traffickers

who were willing to pay you
because of it?

The money itself, it was...

it was flowing nicely there
for quite some time.

Every week, on time,

$8,000 is waiting for us
at Baron's shop.

So we planned trips
around Atlantic City,

stopped there with a limousine,

and picked it up on the way...

me, my wife;
Mike and his wife, Bonnie;

Chicky and his wife.

They were counting
money in the backseat.

The girls were all excited.

So it really made you
feel like, you know,

you're there... you've arrived.

Um, my lifestyle
was pretty good.

Trips, jewelry, vacations...

life was good.

We were rolling.

How important was that
New York City paycheck to you

at this time?

Well, I used to forget
to pick it up.

Paycheck goes into the bank.

Your paycheck pays all
your regular utility bills,

your mortgage,
anything like that.

And I had a loan on my Lincoln.

There was no reason
not to have payments,

because I had cash to spend
on everything else.

A vacation,
furniture, appliances

you pay for in cash.

Kenny and Michael's experiences

just brought them
closer and closer together.

Thought of him as my brother,
my best friend.

Like many good partnerships,

you have to have
a yin and a yang.

You can't have two
exact same personalities.

You always let someone
take the lead.

He let me,
and he did the paperwork.

He's rock solid
with the numbers.

Kenny writes down
every lottery number.

Every Sunday, he writes down
the lottery numbers.

Does he play the lottery?

No, no.

I have notebooks.

He kept things straight,

because Mike was in so many
different directions.

At this point,
I had been drinking quite a bit.

They were like brothers.

I would say husband and wife,

because Michael literally took
my husband out of my bed

for, sometimes, no other reason
than Michael needed to drink.

What about your lifestyle
at this point, Mr. Dowd?

Could you tell the commissioners
and the public

what kind of car you were
driving around this time?

Uh, '87 Corvette.

I'm like, "What the fuck
are you doing?

"We're making $600 a week.

You can't afford
a brand-new Corvette."

"Michael, don't ever, ever bring
that car to the precinct."

"Don't drive this fucking car
to the precinct."

The next day, he brought
that car to the precinct.

The reason I drove
the Corvette to work

was, my wife and I had a deal.

Two weeks of the month,
she gets the Corvette;

two weeks of the month,
I get the Corvette.

It happened to be
my two-week period

where I had no other car
at the time.

So it was either
drive her car, which...

I didn't have a car.

I give it to Kenny.

It takes a lot of fucking man

to deal with this fucking guy
all day long in that car.

Mike was fucking nuts.

I trusted Kenny implicitly.

I knew that he would go
against his own friends for me.

Many aspects
of gaining and building

that trust and that bond

just continued on a daily basis,

and we never, one time,
said no to one another.

Without Kenny,

he wouldn't function.

You know what I mean?

But if Kenny would bring
a whole bunch of cops and say,

"Adam, forget about Mike;

these are the guys
that are working with me,"

I would say no.

Without Mike,
you're not welcome.

We were the best
backup team in the precinct.

If shit went down

and you saw Kenny
and me pull up,

your life came back
into your hands.

The blood started to flow
back through your body again,

'cause they knew they were safe.

One thing we did
was always looked out

for the other cops around us.

So one night, Kenny and I
were doing a 4:00 to 12:00.

Some cops had a major
armed robbery situation go down.

Kenny and I showed up.

We shanghaied the perp,
put him in the car.

We were, like, a block
and a half from the precinct

to drop off the prisoner
at the precinct.

In that time,
call comes over the radio.

And we hear,
"10-13, shots fired."

A live call come over the air...
not a 911 call.

A cop yelling into the radio,
screaming for his life.

"10-10 shots fired, 10-13."

And you hear the gunfire
going off in the background.

And it's maybe four blocks
from where the precinct is.

Tell the perp, "Get out.

Just fucking get out.
Get out of the car."

And headed over
to Bradford and Pitkin.

We race off.

We're the first ones
on the scene.

I think I was, like, third...

third car on the scene.

You hear rounds popping off.

I don't know
where they're coming from

or where they're going.

As soon as we pull up,

you know, we're down,
we open up the doors,

and the fucking shots
are just going off.

And the eeriest sight
of your life.

There's a cop in uniform...
happened to be

a Transit Police Department
sergeant in uniform.

And he's carrying
this fucking guy...

guy was huge.

He's carrying him
in his arms like this,

walking down the street.

We still smell
the fucking gunpowder...

But all I see is a guy
with a body in his hand,

and he goes,
"He's a cop."

So, you know, we don't wait
for ambulances when it's...

when the police get shot;
fuck that.

Throw him in the back
of our patrol car.

Guy's legs are
sticking out of the car.

He was a big guy.

And Mike takes off,

and I get on the radio
telling Central

that we're transporting
the cop shot to,

um, Brookdale Hospital.

To get this guy
from Pitkin Avenue

to Brookdale Hospital
was maybe five, six minutes.

Pitkin to Penn
to Linden to Brookdale.

I'm on my way.

I'm fucking flying now...

lights, no sirens,

and I'm fucking...

I'm trying to close the door.

"Have them stand by.
He was shot in the head."

He's got a fucking hole
in the middle of his head.

We're screaming over the radio,

"Get somebody
at Brookdale Hospital

to call and tell them
we're bringing"...

"We're bringing in
a wounded cop."

A New York City
Transit officer was killed last night

in a spray of bullets
from automatic weapons.

Transit police
officer Robert Venable, age 35,

on the job
with an undercover unit.

I was hit with a lot of guilt

after Officer Venable
was killed.

I wanted to feel the pain,

and I did feel the pain for him,

but I had that sense of shame
mixed in with pain,

that I really don't deserve
to share that pain with him

because I'm not... I wasn't loyal.

And you know,
when they kill a cop, how it is.

Mike was so depressed
about the whole fucking deal.

When that shit happened,
he said, "Adam,

"I need you to find out
who the fuck did this shit.

"Man, help me out.

I need to find this shit out."

But I can't do it.
I just couldn't do it.

If Kenny gets shot,

fucking I'll find the guy.

I'll take care of him.

Or Chicky gets shot,

I'll fucking find the guy,
take his balls out...

cut them off.

No problem.

It's a pleasure.

But someone I don't know?

No way.

You get worked up telling
these stories, you know?

I cried over it many times,
you know?

I did my... I did my crying.

And here I was
fucking saving drug dealers

at one end of the precinct

and chasing them at the other.

He's trying to say that he's...

that he did something
to help Officer Venable,

that he did, you know...

he just happened to be there.

That's all that was.

Well, he talked about that
like he was a real cop

because he... he took the, uh...

yeah...

no.

So, Mr. Dowd,
let me ask the question another way.

Did you consider yourself
to be a New York City cop

or a drug trafficker?

Well, it's, uh...

both.

We have this
informant in talking to us.

He's giving us
really good information.

I said, "Just,
you know, no lies,

and tell us everything."

And he said, "You don't
want to know everything."

And I said, "What do you mean?

Like, you know, of course
I want to hear everything."

And he said, "No, you don't
want to hear everything, Joe,

because I'm talking
about boys in blue."

And you hear that a lot

when you're working drug cases...

"Oh, they got cops
working for them,"

and a lot of times,
it's just pure nonsense.

It's the leadership
of the organization

spreading rumors that
"We got cops working for us."

It sort of
keeps everybody worried

that if they cooperate,
they'll find out about it.

I had no reason to think that
the information wasn't good,

because he's been good
to this point.

Why... you know, why start lying
about something like this?

And he says, "Oh, no, he's got
a cop working for him."

And he says, "It's Mike the cop,

and he drives a red Corvette."

I felt like, "Fuck," you know?

Like, here, you know, it's...
it's a...

Job was great to me...
I love the job.

You know, you hate to hear
these kind of things.

So we call
Internal Affairs and say,

"Hey, Mike the cop.

Drives a red Corvette."

And they go,
"Okay, we've got it."

I have these cases
from the Seven Five

that the commanding officer
has made me combine

into one investigation,

and it involves Dowd
and his crew.

So I went to the 75th Precinct
to obtain documents,

parked my car in the rear yard,

and as I was beginning
to walk in,

Police Officer Dowd
is walking out the back door.

I look him square
as I'm walking by him,

and the feeling that I get is,
perp.

But the guy's in uniform.

He's a cop.

I'm having a problem
reconciling this.

The feeling that I get is, perp.

What I begin to do
is observations...

following them on duty,

following them off duty.

And it's a very precarious
thing to do.

Remember, they're cops.

If you're going
to follow somebody,

you have to try to do it,
obviously,

without them knowing
that you're doing it.

And it's not like TV...

you know, the guy pulls
out of the parking space

and you're three car lengths
behind them

and they never see you there.

Yeah, it just
doesn't happen like that.

Michael Dowd had a red Corvette.

He would pull out
of the Seven Five Precinct,

and he'd run every red light,

looking into the mirror
the entire time.

So you have to devise
another way of doing it.

You don't start out
at the precinct;

you may start out
on the conduit,

so he can run all those lights
and see nobody,

and then you're gonna
pick him up on the Belt Parkway

or the Southern State.

Catching a cop

by another cop is heartbreaking.

If you're a cop
and you took that oath,

it means everything to you

that you represent
and that you're correct.

When you take this job,
you raise your hand.

You take an oath.

You say, "I will give my life
to save complete strangers."

And to Michael Dowd,
that meant nothing.

Wasn't like you were hurting
"people."

You're hurting a fucking
scumbag drug dealer.

Do you know what
kind of pain and suffering

that money caused
on the streets?

Do you know how many people's
lives were ruined

by the drugs
that that money bought?

In New York, drugs were blamed

in last week's slaying
of a New York City patrolman.

Bodies of a
mother and her two children

were found wrapped
in sheets and blankets.

The victims were tied up

and either shot to death
or strangled.

Drugs may have been involved
in yesterday's massacre

of ten people
in a Brooklyn home.

This was East New York,
Crown Heights,

Bedford-Stuyvesant...

all low-income areas.

People that were
suffering enough

for a whole lot of reasons,

they depend upon us
to keep it safe for them

to just do the common,
everyday thing.

Now I have cops
making it possible

for this poison
to get onto the streets,

to destroy people's lives,

to destroy entire neighborhoods.

Pfft.

Top of the line.

All the way
to the fucking captain.

I used to carry
a radio so I could listen

to who was doing what.

Aside from Dowd,
Eurell, and Yurkiw,

there wound up being,
honest to God,

25, 30 people.

Michael Dowd is definitely
the brains of the operation.

We started to look for
other avenues to make money.

We decided to distribute
cocaine out on Long Island.

We were purchasing
large amounts of cocaine

from Baron Perez and Adam Diaz.

We used to stop at
my house on the way home

to drop off the coke.

It was, like, huge bricks

of glimmering, primo cocaine

in my kitchen.

My wife was disgusted,
disappointed...

you know, "We got enough money.

We don't need
to be doing this."

"Please, please stop."

At this point, we had
some nice cash sitting around,

the two of us.

Said, "Why don't we just back

the cocaine operation
financially?"

We enlisted one dealer
and set him up in business.

They mainly had this
guy Harry distribute it.

Harry didn't look
like the brightest kid...

not slick,

not especially smart.

Harry was selling, you know,
like, half a kilo a week

out of a bar in $50 envelopes.

There's... there's never enough.
There's never enough.

I was using
the undercover name Brian.

I had a beard.
I had a ponytail, earring.

I got information
about a subject named Harry.

Money was rolling in,

and he just kept wrapping it up
and putting it away.

Your feeling and
your reaction to the fact,

uh, that indeed
you weren't questioned

and you weren't
in any way caught

during the, um, course
of all these dealings...

did that, for instance,

somehow embolden you
to do more in this area?

Did you feel free
about what you were gonna do?

First of all, there was times
when I was shocked

that I got away with so many
of these things.

I didn't know what stress was.
I just lived it.

Just fucking greed.

Also, mind you,
I was becoming heavily addicted

to cocaine and alcohol,

so my inhibitions were down.

I had some personal problems
I was going through too.

So, all that combined,

it, uh...

it certainly shocked me.

I can't... I don't know how,
sometimes, I showed up for work.

I wasn't scared
of the money coming in,

but the drugs in the car...

we're gonna get
fucking arrested.

I don't know how Kenny honestly
felt about me doing it.

He's becoming wired.
He's becoming paranoid.

I don't think
it bothered him so much.

On January 2nd of 1992,

I made the first
cocaine purchase from Harry.

When the undercover
sends the coke to the lab,

we have quantitative
and qualitative tests

done on the cocaine;

it comes back 95% pure.

Somebody was bringing
pure coke into Suffolk County.

Based on your
personal knowledge,

why weren't other police
officers in your command

turning you in?

'Cause I'm still a cop.

Cops don't turn in other cops.

He's doing coke... as fast
as he can get it from Diaz

is as fast as he's doing.

He's probably doing more
than he's selling.

Even when the person
they're depending on for survival

is doing lines of coke
in the RMP,

is drinking daily to the state

that, as you said, you're
sometimes a fall-down drunk...

even then, they remain silent?

Cops don't want
to be labeled as rats.

Cops depend on one another
to survive out there.

Kenny talked to me one time
and said, "Adam, Mike is crazy.

He's going crazy.
He's sniffing coke."

I said, "What?"

I know he's doing
his little fucking blow

sometimes in a while, but...

"Fuck everything.
Fuck them. Fuck this.

I'm gonna do what I want."

And that's how he
lived and worked

in the Seven Five.

You felt like you were God.

He said, "No, he's fucked up.

He's fucked up.
He's a dopehead."

Invincible.

So it's like, "Fuck,
how do I stop this guy?"

He never acted afraid.

He never showed himself
to be afraid.

I considered myself
both a cop and a gangster.

That's when I knew
he was no good

and that was gonna be the end.

I thought if I was getting
too close, you could quit.

But you find out, when you're
in the middle of the game,

quitting ain't too easy.

The game keeps
pulling you back in.

And then you start to wonder,

"Maybe I will get pinched."

One Sunday morning,

we go to my parents' house
for breakfast.

Pack up the kids in my car...

Say hi.

My wife gets in the car.

I start driving
down my block to the corner.

See a white car...

someone in it.

Sitting there on the corner,
on a Sunday morning,

is that typical
undercover cop car.

I'm like, "Did you see that?"

And I'm watching my
rearview mirror the whole way.

They pull out from the curb
and start following behind me.

But I'm not worried.

No coke at my house.

I'm like, "Ken, they don't need

"to have a scale
and cocaine in the house

to bust you for dealing drugs."

It was, like,
7:30, 8:00 in the evening.

I had seen a couple cars
following me.

I knew something wasn't right.

Harry owes me cash.

I go out during the night
to pick up my money,

park in the driveway.

I go in the side door.

He's dripping wet.

I mean dripping.
We're talking May.

It wasn't that hot,
and it's night.

It's 10:00 at night.

Dripping wet, and I'm like,
"Something's not fucking right."

I drove up to the precinct.

I walked up the precinct steps.

I felt the tension
all around me.

The desk officer pointed...

"The captain over there
wants to talk to you."

I turned around.

A man walked in
with a lieutenant's badge

and said, "Internal Affairs.

We want to take you for
a department-ordered drug test."

Within two minutes,

Suffolk County Narcotics
slams the front door.

Don't go in, guys.
Don't go in.

Get down.
Get down.

Vests, helmets, shield,

rushing down the hallway.

I'm like, "Fuck."

They throw me
up against the wall.

They pull my gun out,

spread my legs, cuff me up.

As I walk down the stairs
to change in the locker room,

I realize
there's a bunch of, like,

plainclothes police officers
around me,

following me,
like, blanketing me.

So I take my fucking pants off,

hang them in my locker,

and I go to put
my civilian clothes on,

and I get...
I got fucking coke in my pocket.

So I'm like, "Okay,
let's put on my pants

with the cocaine in it."

There's a guy sitting over here
I never saw in my life,

walks up and says, "Suffolk
County Police Department.

You're under arrest
for narcotics conspiracy."

They search my pockets.

They pull out the bag of cocaine
I tried to unload.

The next picture that you see

is a daisy chain of cops

is being led out of a precinct
in Suffolk County,

and they're New York City cops.

There's a police story
being told

here in New York this week...

The NYPD is under the gun again.

Cops dealing drugs,
stealing money and guns,

shaking down shopkeepers.

Six New
York City police officers

charged with conspiring
to sell cocaine.

It has become an
all too familiar sight in New York:

cops arrested
on corruption-related charges.

And a new
breed of corrupt cop...

none was more notorious
than officer Michael Dowd.

He was dirty up to his eyeballs.

The story of cops and robbers...

see if you can tell
one from the other.

I was driving in to work,

and I heard on the radio that
New York City police officers

had been arrested
in Suffolk County.

I felt like,

"Fuck, Suffolk County got them?"

Suffolk County got them?

I wasn't scared.

It was almost like
a sense of relief hit me.

I was like,
"Thank God it's over.

Thank you
for saving my fucking life."

Nothing was off the table
with me

at that point in my life.

It really didn't make sense
to me, what was happening.

I was so used
to winning every day.

I'd been beating these people

for five, six, seven,
eight years.

This is just another...
this is just another obstacle

I have to learn to get around,
and I will.

In my mind,
I was gonna get around this.

Here we are, out on bail...

it's about a month
after our arrest,

uh, mid-June sometime...

facing 25 to life
for drug trafficking charges.

It was at my insistence
that we try to develop a plan

on how to minimize the damage
at this point.

There's a Colombian living
in my house, in Brentwood.

He said,
"Leave the fucking country.

"You're doing 25 to life
in the state

"if they fucking hammer you.

"You are... you're done.

You're done."

He knows I'm in a spot.

Comes to me and says,

"Are you interested
in doing a hit

at this woman's house
on Avon Street in Queens?"

There's a drug lord whose wife
is holding on

to a large sum
of cash and cocaine

that they owe this Colombian
that's staying in my home.

So the plan is to grab
this guy's wife,

kidnap her,

grab any money and drugs
in the house,

turn her over to the Colombians
for execution.

"What's in it for me?"

He said, "There's several
hundred thousand in cash,

and, uh, at least ten kilos."

He has this whole plan
to flee bail

with a kidnapping
and murder scheme.

I said, "Kenny, this is my plan.

Are you in or you out?"

He pounds his hand and goes,

"We need to do this thing."

He says, "I'm in."

Well, that's all
I wanted to hear.

I mean, my life was in turmoil.

I don't give a fuck.

It's me and Kenny
back together again.

Mike picks me up
the next morning.

We went off to Avon Street.

We're driving our way there.

As we approach...

"Kenny, you got the scanner?

"Let's see if the scanner works.

See what's going on
on the scanner."

We turn on the local scanner
to listen to the local precinct.

The scanner's not on a minute,
and you hear,

"Suspicious car
on Avon Street."

There's no way
you're hiding that.

Mike picked that up.

Avon Street is two blocks long.

It's got to be related to us.

Well,
when the call came in on the scanner,

he said to me,
"We're going to the house."

I said, "Whoa.

Why would we go to the house?

The block is staked out."

"Mike, I came
all the way this far.

We're going
to the fucking house."

I said, "You go to the house.
I ain't going there."

So rather than stop
at Avon street,

I kept... I jumped back
onto the Grand Central Parkway

and headed home.

We get the fuck out of there.

As I'm driving,

I see cars just converging
from everywhere,

sort of closing in
on the location behind us.

We get all the
way back to my house.

He decides to go home.

I said, "All right, man,
I'm gonna call you later."

And I notice four,
five, six more different,

ten different
vehicles following me.

I'm finding cars,
undercover cops,

every-fucking-where,

and I'm not believing it.

I went home,

walked in the door,

looked at my wife.

She says, "Oh, by the way,

"Dori told me last night

that 'If I never see you again,

remember I love
both you and Mike. ""

I said, "She said that to you?

You didn't
tell me this last night?"

She goes, "Well, I didn't think
it was important."

With that, I turned around,

and I heard the police cars
swinging into my cul-de-sac...

The noise of... the noise of cars
pulling into my cul-de-sac.

When they walked in my door,
I knew it was Kenny.

How the fuck could he do this?

I was already in trouble!

I was already in trouble!

We decided to approach
the person who appeared to be,

from our information

and from
the Suffolk County case,

the less culpable
of the two individuals.

And so we reach out
to Kenny Eurell's lawyer.

Kenny's attorney brings him in.

I ask him his full name,

what's his wife's full name.

I get all the background
information.

And it sort of sets him at ease,

'cause now he's in a routine
of answering questions.

Then I throw out
the name Baron Perez.

And he looks at me...

gets a shocked look on his face.

They did not know at that time

that there's an ongoing
federal criminal investigation

that goes back years.

They had been
taping Auto Sound City,

Baron, Michael Dowd,

drug transactions

that Michael Dowd bodyguarded
for the drug dealers.

They had informants inside...

the whole thing.

They even had me on tape.

Kenny's
attorney's gonna tell him,

"Your exposure just went

"from whatever the state
was gonna give you

to now you're looking at this
in the federal system,"

and he's gonna
have a "come to Jesus" moment.

There's a Colombian
living in my house.

So the plan is
to grab this guy's wife.

I said, "Kenny, this is my plan.

Are you in or you out?"

"You've literally lost
your mind.

We're not fucking doing that."

Kenny spoke to Marty,
our lawyer.

I go to my lawyer.
I let him know what's goin' on.

He goes, "You can't allow
something like that to happen."

"Kenny, it's RICO.

"You're looking at 25 years.

"You're goin' down.

"You have to give him up.

You have to."

That was, you know,

clear that I need to start
working with the DEA, and...

I decide to cooperate
with the feds.

Mike Troster gets me
a micro-recorder,

and at that time, 1992,

a micro-recorder was,
you know, that fuckin' big.

It was big,

big enough
that if you're wearing it,

you're self-conscious,

like, "Holy crap, I got this
big piece of equipment on me."

"We're gonna wire your phone

in case Dowd calls
and talks on the phone."

Every contact, as much
as possible, with Michael

has to be on audio
or videotape or both.

I don't want to wear it
anywhere on my chest,

because we normally
hugged each other

and gave each other a kiss
when we met each other,

so I came up with,
I'll wear it behind my calf.

I got muscular calves,
and I'll Ace bandage it.

He had, like...
it was like a little smirk.

I'm like,
"I'm freaking out over here."

My wife's like, "What could you
possibly be smiling about?"

I'm like, "I feel
like a cop again."

"Really,
I'm just praying I get to see you again."

And, you know,
when I hugged him,

I hugged him like I wasn't
ever gonna see him again,

that this is probably
gonna turn horribly wrong.

Michael's plan was to
go to the house on Avon street

in Jamaica Estates, Queens,

knock on the door,
deliver a bouquet of flowers,

and then they were gonna
bring her out,

kidnap her,

take her to a motel,

and there she would be
handed over to the Colombians.

If we walked to the door
with a bouquet of flowers,

knocked on the door,

she'd probably open up
to receive the flowers.

So it was as simple as that.

I didn't think...
it was a no-brainer.

On the news...

I'm sitting there
watching the news,

'cause I'm watching
the news every day,

'cause we're almost
on the news every night.

Totally separate story...

a lady was killed and murdered

because someone posed
as a flower delivery person.

So I'm sitting there
with my wife.

I'm like, "Oh, my God,

I hope Mike's not fucking
watching the news now,"

'cause I know he's gonna want
to call me and discuss it.

Yeah?

I'm watching it, yeah.

Yeah, I know.

I was gonna call you,
but I figured what's the point?

We did not change our plan.

Some other woman
living in Queens

is not gonna not open her door
for flowers.

The flower thing
can be used a few times.

Not every flower delivery is
a fucking armed robbery murder.

The recordings that Eurell made
were extremely helpful

to prove Dowd's
involvement in this crime.

We're trying to figure
out exactly how we're gonna

grab the woman,

grab any money
or drugs in there,

and then bring her off
to the Colombians

for the execution.

Where Kenny comes up
with the idea that this woman

was gonna be delivered
to Colombians

and kidnapped and executed
is beyond me.

Michael's lying.

Kenny wore tapes.

The tapes reflect
that Michael planned

to abduct the woman in Queens.

It was Kenny's words,
never mine.

Go to the tapes.

Listen to the tape.

Kenny paged me

in the wee hours of the morning.

He says, "It's happening.
We're doing it in the morning."

Agents are gonna go
to this woman in her house,

tell her, "Listen,
your life is in jeopardy.

"We're gonna put you
somewhere safe,

"and we are gonna
stay in your house.

"Michael's gonna come
to do the abduction,

and Michael's
gonna get arrested."

Didn't happen that way.

Mike picks me up
the next morning.

We went off to Avon street.

As we approach...

I go, "Kenny,
you got the scanner?"

The scanner's not on
a minute, and you hear,

"Suspicious car
on Avon Street."

One of the surveillance guys
was parked near the house,

and someone called
the police on him.

He identified himself,
said, "Hey,

we're DEA
doing a surveillance."

There's no way
you're hiding that.

Mike picked that up.

We get the fuck out of there.

As I'm driving, I see cars
just converging from everywhere.

Now my mind starts spinning.

"How am I gonna make sure

Mike doesn't relate this to me?"

The plan was, DEA's gonna
arrest us all and take us in

and make it look like
I'm part of being arrested.

They were, at that point, gonna
grab my wife and grab my kids

and bring them to a hotel
to keep them safe

until they could figure out
what to do with us after that.

Troster called me, and he said

that I need to get
out of the house.

Got fucked up.

"We don't even know
where Kenny is."

I'm like, "What do you mean
you don't know where Kenny is?"

My wife has bags packed
at the door, ready to go,

waiting for the DEA
to pick her up and save her.

I had to wire him,

and now they're coming back?

We get all the
way back to my house.

I went to go into his house;
he told me, "Hold on.

I got to check on...
see if my wife is dressed."

Kenny never stopped me
from seeing his wife

dressed or undressed,

and now all of sudden,
he's gonna check?

I was very suspicious.

Holy shit!

I'm running.

I grab those bags.
I run as fast as I can.

My wife is thinking on the fly.

She hears the car pull up in
the driveway, the doors close.

She peeks out the window,

sees it's us getting back
and Mike is there.

I throw those bags
into the bedroom.

- Hides the bags by the door.
- Out of sight.

She starts panicking.

I run into the bathroom,
wet my hair...

Wets her hair like she's just
getting out of the shower,

'cause now it's taking her
five minutes to answer the door.

Took off my clothes
and put on a robe,

and they're banging the door.

Why Kenny wasn't
using the key...

I don't have no keys on me.

Walked in the house.
The fuckin' house was empty.

I looked around...
"Where's all your furniture?"

"Oh, you know
I'm selling the house."

"Yeah, but why would you empty
the fuckin' house out?"

"Well, it shows better
when the house is empty."

Had a good answer,
the motherfucker.

I'm freaking out.

Mike was supposed
to be behind bars

and I would not have to deal
with any of this confrontation.

Mike is pumped.

"Dor, Dor, we came
this close to being arrested.

We were this close."

"Someone ratted us out.
They knew we were there."

I'm like, "How they hell
could they know that?"

He decides to go home and says,

"All right, man,
I'm gonna call you later."

My only concern now is,

I got to get in touch
with my lawyer and the DEA

and Internal Affairs
and this other district

to let them know
what's going on.

It's out of the bag now.

He knows the DEA's got
a surveillance going on.

We got to go lock up Michael.

As we were pulling up
to his house,

there's kids playing
in the street.

I tell the kid,
"You need to go inside."

'Cause I didn't know.

I'd heard Michael would fight.
He's a cop, I...

There could be guns.

I didn't want a kid around.

And he runs straight
to Michael Dowd's house.

It's Michael's kid.

And all of a sudden, I hear...

The sound of vehicles
coming into my cul-de-sac.

Oh, fuck.

It's over... again.

How the fuck could he do this?

I didn't consider myself
being a rat,

because a rat, to me, was...

a rat gets caught
doing something,

and then in order
to get himself out of trouble,

you tell on someone else.

I was already willing
to accept my sentence.

Why would Kenny do this to me?

Why would he put a wire on?

Why would he fuck me like this?

You want to say,
yeah, I ratted on you

about a murder
and kidnapping scheme?

Okay, I'm a rat.

In my eyes,
I saved that woman's life.

I was very surprised at
hearing that Kenny had turned.

You know, you could say he
did it for his wife and his kids

and shit like that, but...

I haven't had to turn
my head around once today.

I got no worries.

I didn't...
I didn't rat on anybody.

I just can't see going
through life turning around,

looking over my shoulder

to see a face that I don't
want to see anymore.

Ain't nobody gonna crash me
in the back of the head

because of something I said
to the police or a journalist.

If Kenny would
be Mike's real friend,

he would have just fucking
do whatever for him,

including time.

If I could relive
that first moment

when he threw me
that $100 in a car,

as a 52-year-old man...

there was a fourth option
to the three options I saw.

The fourth option was go
to an outside agency.

Not go to Internal Affairs
and cut my own throat,

not accept the money
and go along with him,

and not ignore it
and be just as guilty.

The fourth option,
which I never saw as a kid,

was go to an outside agency.

I regret I ever met Mike.

It felt as though I
was cheated on by my wife...

When Kenny turned on me.

I missed him.
I...

Commission
investigation has established

that the New York City
Police Department's

anti-corruption apparatus
is primarily a reactive

rather than proactive

and relies almost
exclusively on complaints

to gauge the extent
of corruption

in the department and the city

and to initiate
corruption allegations.

I'd like to point out
the significance of this,

which is that
the majority of corrupt acts

committed by police officers

therefore go undetected
and uninvestigated

by the New York City
Police Department.

Thank you, Mr. Dowd.

This hearing is now in recess.

I always wanted
to be a good cop.

I didn't come on the police
department to be a bad cop.

I...

Yeah.

My dreams are about being
a good cop.

Sad, though.

Never happened.

♪ The police in New York City ♪

♪ They chased a boy
right through the park ♪

♪ In a case
of mistaken identity ♪

♪ They put a bullet
through his heart ♪

♪ Heartbreakers ♪

We lock up a guy,

and we're bringing him over
to correctional center

for booking, and at that point,

like, a VIP entourage comes in
as we're booking this guy,

and I hear, "Fuckin' Joey Hall."

So I look over,

and I said, "Hey, Michael,
how you doing?"

And he said, "Joey,
I just got 16 fuckin' years."

And I said, "Michael,

if it was up to me,
you'd be doing more time."

And he says, "Hey, Joe.

"It was an honor
to be arrested by you.

"Fuck those IAD guys.

They never got me."

He starts to walk away,

and he turns around in the hall,

and he says, "Hey, Joe.

"Hey, the year
wasn't a total waste.

The Rangers won the Cup."

And then, with that,

he walks in, and you hear
the cell door slam.

♪ A pain maker ♪

♪ Stole the love
right out your heart ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ I wanna tear
that world apart ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ I wanna tear
that world apart ♪

♪ Heartbreaker ♪

♪ Stole the love
right out my heart ♪

♪ Heartbreaker ♪

♪ I wanna tear that world ♪

♪ Wanna tear that world ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ I wanna tear
that world apart ♪

♪ Heartbreaker ♪

♪ Stole the love right ♪

♪ You stole the love right out ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ They said she didn't
have no chance ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ You stuck the pins
right in her heart ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ Heartbreaker ♪

♪ I wanna tear
that world apart ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ Doo doo doo doo doo ♪

♪ Doo doo doo doo doo ♪

♪ Doo doo doo doo doo ♪