All language subtitles for Homicide s06e22 Fallen Heroes 1.eng

- What is that?
- Just a book called "The Corner".

It's about two writers that hung out
on a Baltimore drug corner for a year.

- Dealers let them do it?
- Dealers even let them use their names.

- No way.
- Yeah, way.

If somebody wanted
to write about us?

- What, about you and me?
- The unit, Homicide detectives.

Right. Fat chance.

You think you'd let them use
your real name, watch you work?

- Not in a million years.
- Me, neither.

'KGA to 64-05.'

64-05 to KGA. Go ahead, KGA.

'Duty officer will meet you at crime
scene, 200 block West Saratoga.'

10-4, KGA. So the duty officer
will meet us at the crime scene.

Yeah, sounds like this case
could have some profile.

I smell a red ball.

Get away
from this area, please!

- Barnfather...
- Red ball the size of an asteroid.

Judge Gerald Gibbons, Part 14,
circuit court for Baltimore City.

- Stabbed once, right in his heart.
- Stabbed?

Any witnesses?

Apparently the judge was accosted
by a young man as he got into his car.

So a City judge stabbed to death,

downtown Baltimore,
in broad daylight.

What did I tell you?
The mother of all red balls.

Richmond. Give me a ride downtown?

This isn't a limo, Carl. Where's Nessa?

She's doing her hair.

Come on, take it around the block.

I gotta talk to you. Come on.

What's on your mind?

You told my boss I'm on parole.
That cost me my job.

You did. You're supposed to notify
your employer you're an ex-con.

I'm supposed to notify him, not you.
You're not my parole officer.

Why'd you do me like that? McMillan's
my parole officer and he don't mind.

He's too easy on y'all. Parolee's got
no business working security.

Now I ain't working at all! What do I do?

Find something appropriate.

- Racist.
- Excuse me?

You're out to get me
since I hooked up with Nessa.

Are we through here?
I gotta get to work.

- Yeah.
- Tell me when you find a new job.

I'll let you know nothing.
Pull over. I'll get out here.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Behind you!

- So we got an ID on the stabber?
- Let's see. African-American male.

Early to mid-20s,
average height and build,

sneakers, sweatsuit, hood pulled up,
nobody saw his face.

We can rule out carjacking and robbery.
Jewellery, watch and wallet, all intact.

Ditto the briefcase, car keys,
contents of the glove box.

So what... what have we got, then?
We got a panhandler with a grudge?

A street crazy asks the judge
for spare change,

the judge blows him off and
he shoots the judge in the chest?

- Awfully bold for a panhandler.
- Yeah.

I believe our judge was using
his cellphone when he got stabbed.

- Taking a call.
- You assume he was taking a call.

Because he'd come from his office
where he could have called for free,

and why pay those expensive
cellular minutes?

No, I assume he was taking a call
because that phone is off the hook.

See, we got a phone there, and one
there. What else have we got?

Congratulations, you've found
a downtown payphone that works.

Hey, would you process
for prints, please?

- I said you were a great detective.
- Thank you.

If this were a Lexus,
I'd say we had a drug-Iord drive-by,

but who would ventilate a 1990
Cavalier with 100,000 miles on it?

How do you know
how many miles it's got on it?

- Instinct. Check the odometer.
- All right.

95,500.

What did I tell you? I know my cars.

This guy's probably a teacher, a coach,
civil servant, post office, maybe.

I could've told you that
by the way he was dressed.

And this decal.

- PP. Parole and Probation.
- Our guy's a parole officer.

Eugene Richmond. Had a home visit
6:30 this morning, Hampden.

He's up bright and early.

See if his clients are sleepin'
where they're supposed to.

So Eugene Richmond makes
a surprise home visit in Hampden.

What's he doing in Charles Village?
Another home visit?

You ever hear of a parole officer
getting clipped?

- It's a new one on me.
- And a drive-by, no less.

Pembleton, Bayliss, in my office!

- Judge Gibbons.
- The boss is breathing down his neck.

- The Mayor, Barnfather.
- The Governor.

- You poor schmucks.
- Don't start.

- He'll say, "What do you got?"
- I'll say, "No suspects.

"Two half-ass leads.
We're working on it, Gee."

He'll say, "Work it harder,"
then give us the Giardello glare.

Then we'll slink back to our desks.

- Red balls!
- The worst.

And they say blue balls are bad.

Pembleton and Bayliss, Agents
Sampers and Bauer of the FBI,

assisting us with the murder
of Judge Gibbons.

I thought Gibbons was a City judge.

And a Federal witness. He'd been
targeted in a RICO probe.

He was about to testify to a Grand
Jury on the Mahoney organisation

and its influence upon City officials.

Extortion, bribery, jury tampering,
judicial misconduct.

- Gibbons was on the Mahoney pad?
- You turned him around.

We showed him what we had.
He agreed to cooperate.

- Agreed?
- Call it enlightened self-interest.

Gibbons was scheduled to testify
on Monday

against Georgia Rae Mahoney
and 20 of her associates.

The Mahoney crew owned a judge and
that judge was about to roll on them.

Call me crazy, I'm gonna go out
on a limb here, guys,

but that sounds like sort of a motive
for murder to me.

Proving it will be something else.
We may find the killer, we may not.

We may link the killer
to Georgia Rae Mahoney, we may not.

- We've been down that road before.
- So what have you got so far?

We have a vague description
of the guy who stabbed him

and a possible scenario
for how the hit went down, that's it.

- Want to share that with us?
- It would be premature.

How did Georgia Rae Mahoney find out
that Gibbons was gonna roll on her?

No idea.

So it's a leak. It's a leak.

Either came out of your shop
or from the courthouse, but it's a leak.

All right, no frictions, no turf battles.

Everybody works together
and gets along. Capisce?

Sure. Right.

Eugene Richmond was hit
five times, four 9mms.

Two in the lower-left abdomen,
one in his left hip

and one in his left shoulder.

But the kill shot came from a.38.

A.38?

Look at this close contact.
The gun was touching his right temple.

How can that be? The drive-by
perforated him from the left.

Wait. So the shots came
from outside and inside the car?

The Lab found blood on the passenger
door and not Richmond's.

So there was somebody else
in the car, shot Richmond in the head...

Got caught in the crossfire.

I can't believe you just did that.

- Did what?
- Checked the stalls.

Is that part of the counter-surveillance
curriculum at Quantico?

Something to say to me,

or you automatically check the stalls
when you come in?

Kellerman brought us a tape of
a conversation he'd had with Gibbons.

He said he'd expose Gibbons
unless he threw out Georgia Rae's suit.

Which Gibbons did
ten seconds into the trial.

On the tape, Gibbons not only
agreed to throw out the case,

he offered Kellerman a bribe
to keep quiet.

- You had a deal with Kellerman?
- I gave him a heads-up, off the record.

You told him you'd roll the judge
on the Mahoney crew.

I wanted to let him know
what was about to go down.

You're the leak, Bauer.
You are. You screwed up.

- You got Gibbons killed.
- Kellerman did!

The same day Gibbons threw out
Georgia Rae's lawsuit,

Kellerman confronted
the judge at the courthouse,

ragged him about our investigation
before a couple of dozen bystanders,

including some Mahoney crew
who were at the trial.

If I were you, I'd keep Kellerman
away from this case.

He's a cowboy.

Mikey, Mikey, Mikey...

Hey, hey, hey! Kellerman!

Kellerman! I've been looking
all over for you.

Now you found me. That's a good job,
but then you're a professional.

Listen, I just had a men's room chat
with the FBI.

Who was it? Bauer?

They said you let go of their secret,
got Gibbons killed.

Gibbons got himself killed.

Get into bed with somebody like
Georgia Rae, you'll get the clap,

or something worse,
something terminal.

He said that you screwed up
a Federal investigation.

Why do you think the Feebs dropped
a dime in your ear about me?

Bauer's pissed. Doesn't want you
anywhere near the investigation.

They blew it. The judge is dead,
they got nothing! They want scapegoats.

If Georgia Rae skates again, they'll
put all of this on us, me in particular.

You didn't call Gibbons out
at the courthouse in front of witnesses?

Why would I do that?

You were Richmond's partner.

It's not like you guys.
We don't ride together or work cases.

We just share a secretary.

You know any of his parolees
that had a beef with him?

Let me give you a list. 180 felons might
have waxed him, given the opportunity.

- 180?
- That's how many cases he had.

When an offender violates parole,
we issue a warrant, right?

It takes a serious infraction
to violate somebody back to jail.

Guns, dope,
consorting with a known felon.

He'd issue a re-take on somebody
for spitting on the sidewalk.

- Wonder why more POs don't get killed?
- It crossed my mind, yeah.

Most of us keep a low profile.

The parole officer's really a babysitter
with a badge and gun.

We go to court, we file petitions.

Eugene acted like
he was one of you guys.

A real Dick Tracy, emphasis on "Dick".

Nessa, provide these detectives
with a list of Eugene's active cases.

Names, addresses, offences.

It'll take me a while.
Can you come back in an hour?

- No problem.
- He had a home visit in Hampden.

- Nessa, you might know about that.
- Donnie Mason.

Why was Richmond
in Charles Village?

He was supposed to give me a ride
to work. Let me start on that list.

The left one's from the payphone.

The right one came from the database
on Nathaniel Lee Mahoney.

Another Mahoney.
Where do they all come from?

This particular Mahoney came
from Baltimore, Maryland,

DOB January 30, 1973.

25 years old, a ripe old age
for a Mahoney foot soldier.

Got quite a rap sheet.
Narcotics, murder, attempted murder.

So we're looking at a survivor,
a real pro,

a battle-scarred veteran
of the drug wars.

- How come we never heard of him?
- Mmm.

The records show a call
from that very same payphone

to Judge Gibbons' cellular
at 8: 10.

Nathaniel Lee cases the judge,
knows where he's gonna be,

gets his number
out of Georgia Rae's rolodex.

'Waits for the judge
to return to his car.

'Then he dials him up.'

'Leaves the receiver dangling
so the judge stays on the line.'

Hello? Hello? Who is this?

'And he strolls over to him.'

Stabs him in the heart, and by 8:13
he's made his escape. Whaddya think?

- Beats the "no spare change" theory.
- Cool customer, whoever he is.

- Hey, Meldrick!
- What?

In your travels through Mahoneyland,
ever come across one Nathaniel Lee?

- Nathaniel Lee? Sure.
- You know him?

Yeah. You do, too. Junior Bunk.

That mook who was taking
potshots at us last year?

Luther's nephew, Georgia Rae's boy?

Nathaniel Lee, Junior,
one and the same. Why?

He's our assassin.

In the Gibbons case?
Ain't no way, no how.

Yeah. We got his print off the payphone
right by the crime scene.

That print must have been there
from a year ago last New Year's Eve

because he's been down since then,
for the murder of, er, Molly Bowden?

Not to mention three counts
of assault on us.

Plus, there ain't no way "Bunkpunk"
would stab nobody. It's too personal.

You're saying the mofo
made a mistake?

I'm saying there ain't no way that punk
could take potshots at three police,

kill an innocent bystander and
be back on the street inside a year...

- I'll be damned!
- DOC has him on work release now.

Post-conviction
reconsideration of sentence...

What judge would do that?

Gibbons?

He dropped Junior's sentence
making him eligible for work release.

I'll bet that's one favour
for Georgia Rae he'd like to have back.

"Judge, do me a favour
and let my son out the joint.

"I want him to do something,
namely stab your traitorous ass!"

- You got an address on Junior?
- I got a half-dozen, Gee.

Locate where he's staying,
get a Search and Seizure.

I want the weapon and I wanna see
Junior in the Box, pronto.

Where is she?
Excuse me...

Nessa Jackson was supposed to leave
Eugene Richmond's case load?

She left it for you. Here you go.

- Thank you.
- So what did you think of him?

Richmond? A real stickler.
Glad I didn't have to work for him.

- What about Nessa?
- Fine, till she starting dating Carl.

Carl Curtis,
one of Mr McMillan's parolees.

- She's dating an ex-con?
- Met him in the office.

- Isn't that unusual?
- Tell me something I don't know!

Completely against policy.
Mr McMillan didn't seem to care.

But Mr Richmond hated it.

Fought with Nessa about Carl,
especially after he moved in.

Whoa, Carl lives with Nessa
in Charles Village?

Yeah. Ask me, Mr Richmond had
a thing for Nessa, a heavy crush.

Couldn't stand to see her
with a dead-end like Carl.

Hey, welcome to
the Junior Bunk domicile!

Hey!

Let the uniforms go up first,
then we'll take it.

That's a good plan. You'll like this one...

Junior Bunk is the sorriest, punk-ass,
no-heart girlie the Eastside ever saw!

- Is that right?
- Every time, he comes out bawling.

- A real crier?
- Got a gift for the snivel!

He also likes the back door,
so I'll go around and slip him some.

Come on, Bayliss,
let's do it. Knock.

Junior Bunk! Baltimore Homicide!

What y'all want?

So the bear says, "You didn't
really come here to hunt, did you?"

'We got him.'

- He try to run?
- 'Not exactly.'

Come on, let's go!
Come on! Bring him on! Bring him on!

Get in there!
Come on, get in there!

- He fought.
- Say what?

Four on one, but he gave it
a good go. You eyeballing me?

What? You eyeballing me, boy?

- Why would she date an ex-con?
- I don't know. Bad boys are exciting.

Probably thought she could change him.
Rescue fantasies?

- Ex-wife wanted to change me.
- Didn't work, huh?

Sure it did.
Thanks to her, I'm perfect.

- Here's the file on Carl Curtis.
- What did he do time for?

Possession of a controlled substance
with intent to distribute.

- How's he making it?
- He's found a job, a place to live.

- With your secretary.
- I had no problem with that.

- It's his business.
- Says here he got fired last week.

Richmond told Carl's supervisor he was
a parolee. He pink-slips Carl same day.

Richmond cost Carl his job,
hassled him about his girlfriend.

We asked you about parolees
who had it in for Richmond.

- Why didn't you point us to Carl?
- He's not a killer.

You're not a detective.
Let us decide who's a suspect, OK?

Who's Pony Johnson?

- East Baltimore dealer.
- Carl was part of his crew.

Pony got jacked on a double
homicide a few years back.

- So Pony's in prison?
- Back in prison. He was on parole.

- Richmond violated him.
- Richmond was Pony's PO?

- Yeah.
- No wonder they call here "Tiny Town".

Teeny tiny. Five years ago,
Pony Johnson, double homicide.

- Primary on the case: John Munch.
- Our John Munch?

Pony Johnson, a real sweetheart,

killed his girlfriend
and his associate's girlfriend,

but he tortured them, ostensibly
for information, but more for fun.

Pony Boy your shooter? I heard
he was rehabilitated and on the street.

Pony Boy's back in Jessup.
Richmond violated him six months ago.

- No visible means of support.
- They found weapons and narcotics.

Oops! That'll teach 'em to parole
a double murderer after four years.

- Don't that stick in your craw?
- I had my craw surgically removed.

Pony Boy's looking at 40 more years
before his next parole hearing.

40 years might make me mad enough
to subcontract a hit on Richmond.

- What about the shooter in the car?
- I thought this was a drive-by.

Somebody in the car also shot
Richmond point blank in the head.

- That Pony, nothing if not thorough.
- Carl knew Richmond's routine.

Richmond stops by
to give Nessa a ride.

Carl hops in instead, caps Richmond.

Drive-by boys roll up
and nick Carl by mistake.

Or by design? Sounds like they
were trying to take out Carl, too.

Let's go pay the happy couple
a house-call.

I don't know what y'all
so happy about.

- You violated your work release.
- We found guns in your house.

A convicted felon with firearms.
My, oh, my!

- Ain't mine.
- They were found on your premises.

I don't know how they got there.
Must be somebody else's.

I don't believe the court would draw
those subtle distinctions.

So I'm down for 20, right?

That six months you just did,
must've been an eye-opener,

physically, mentally and,
er... sexually.

How do you handle that? You carve
a space in your head that says,

"It's not me doing all these nasty
things, it's somebody else.

"I'll go back to being me
as soon as I get out."

That how you made it?
Day after day, hour after hour?

That's not gonna happen now.
You don't get to be you anymore.

Is it true what they say
about prison time?

Slowest time in the world?

You don't need to worry about me,
all right? I can do the 20.

Oh?

That's very impressive, Junior.

- What about life? Can you do life?
- I don't have to do life.

- For the murder of Judge Gibbons?
- What? I ain't killed nobody.

Wait a minute, Frank. You misspoke.

See, when you murder a judge,
you don't get life.

You get death.

Come on, man, he was dirty.
You know? The judge was dirty.

- Your mama tell you that?
- He still wore the robe.

We frown on killing judges here.
Where you think you are? Colombia?

That's right. The Mahoney cartel?

You may as well kiss my ass goodbye
and let me do my 20.

- You got nothing!
- Ah, we got you.

How?

Eyewitnesses put you at the corner
of Park and Saratoga this morning.

Man, it wasn't me, man.
They mistaken.

- Right where the judge was stabbed.
- I wasn't there.

- What about the payphone?
- Payphone?

Near where the judge died.
Ever use that phone?

- How would I remember that?
- We dusted it for prints...

...and came up with one hit.

Nathaniel Lee Mahoney,
aka Junior Bunk.

- So what?
- So we put you in the crime scene.

I might have been there earlier,
but before anybody got killed.

Why were you on Saratoga
this morning?

It wasn't early, it was late.
I was coming home from clubbing.

I used that phone to call a cab
at like five, six in the morning.

You were out and about
in the wee hours of the morning

and happened to leave your print
on the payphone

where a judge gets stabbed
two hours later.

- What incredibly bad luck.
- Ain't that a bitch? Tell me about it.

- Always had bad luck, you know.
- What cab company did you call?

- Man, I don't know. Er, Royal.
- Royal?

OK, I'm gonna call Royal,
see what they got on their logs.

But I didn't take no Royal cab, though.
I mean, I called, but...

- This other cab came, so I took that.
- What company?

How am I supposed to remember?
I flagged it down.

I'll call Royal anyway.
They always log their dispatch calls.

We'll talk to that pissed-off driver

who showed up at 6:00am
to find his fare gone.

Hey, wait.
As a matter of fact, though...

On second thought,
maybe it wasn't Royal I called.

- What company, then?
- I forget! Who cares, huh?

- I ain't talking to y'all no more!
- I don't blame you.

It's a good thing prison made you hard,
cos prison's all you got left.

You'll get life for the judge, plus the 20
you racked up for Molly Bowman.

That's life plus 20, if you're lucky.

And if you're not, lethal injection.

Then again, just like you said...
you never been lucky.

Take the weight for the judge, you die.
Give up your mother, you live.

You've given up your mother once.

Nod your head and I'll go call
the State's Attorney's Office.

- She used you.
- She's cuttin' you loose.

She used you to kill the judge!
You are her son!

Aargh!

Who y'all think you're dealing with,
huh? Huh?

I'm a man! I ain't no boy.

A man! I'll do the 20.
I'll do the life, I don't care.

Y'all go ahead,
send me to Death Row.

Put the poison in my vein.
But I'm done talking! You hear me?

I'm telling y'all...
your... your skinny white ass

and your sorry black ass,
to go ahead, ring me up. Please!

Do whatever it is you...
you think you can do to me!

- 'Yeah? '
- It's me. I forgot something.

Tricky.

- It's started bleeding again.
- Careful it don't get infected.

Homicide. Carl Curtis,
you're under arrest.

- For what?
- We better get you to the ER.

- That looks nasty.
- Bet it's a 9mm gunshot wound.

Looks exactly like the holes
in Eugene Richmond.

- Except for the one in his head.
- Hey, Carl, Carl!

Don't make us shoot you, too.

Baby?

We pushed Junior Bunk as far he'd go.

With the print from the phone
and his messed-up taxi story,

the old Junior would've
been crying by now.

This is the new, improved
Junior Bunk, tempered in the Pen.

- You find the murder weapon?
- He probably threw it in the harbour.

Even if we waved the knife in his face,
he wouldn't have blinked an eye.

- Where's Junior now?
- Waiting to go to Central Booking.

- He's asking for a phone call.
- Give it to him.

If we want Georgia Rae's head
on a platter,

we'll have to turn somebody else,
cos we can't intimidate Junior any more.

- Need something?
- What the hell I need from you?

Then keep your eyes to yourself
before you lose 'em.

Psst! Hey, mama!

I don't know, Junior.
I have to question your judgment.

To grease Gibbons
after he got you out?

That's not only ungrateful,
it's short-sighted, don't you think?

Who'll get you out now? Your moms?

She'll probably end up next to you
on Death Row. That'd be something.

Mother-son killers?
Probably one for the record books.

Maybe they'll execute you
at the same time.

I'd pay a lot of money
to see that exhibition.

- Hey, Kellerman, man...
- Hmm?

Let me tell you a secret.

We got the judge.

Guess what, you next.

I don't think so.

Don't get too close. She bites.
Might lose a finger.

Junior Bunk, Junior Bunk, Junior Bunk...

And they say folks don't change.

- My hat's off to you, brother.
- What the hell you talkin' about?

You went from being a confused
little mama's boy, gangster wannabe,

to a stone-cold, hard-assed lifer.

- I mean, that's... Phew! Congrats.
- Thanks.

Takes a genius to throw away
a second chance.

Takes a real man to throw away
your whole life, all before you're 30.

- Hey, screw you, man!
- Screw me?

OK, pal, make your phone call.
Make it quick.

Kecken, here's your coffee.
Hope you like it black.

- Agh!
- Ballard!

Yeah! Hey, I'm walking up outta here.
You hear me? I'm walking!

- Is that bar time or real time?
- Bar time.

Bayliss was meant to cover the kitchen.
He better not stick me with it again.

- Cherry?
- Always.

Why do you think
they call it a Manhattan?

What else could they call it?

Beautiful, seductive, intoxicating...

- And really, really bad for you.
- Like you.

Munch, I don't care what people say,
you are as sweet as chess pie.

I'll take the Manhattan.

Ooh.
Thoughts on a maraschino cherry.

- Forbidden fruit.
- An allegory in a glass.

Cheers.

Mercy!

What's going on here?
What's going on?

All right, clear the way.
Clear the way. Clear it!

Let's move her out quick.

Hey! Squeeze real hard.
It smarts, I bet, huh?

I can't feel anything.
It's really scary. Is it still there?

- What?
- My foot, whatever got shot!

- Yeah, it's still there.
- Don't lie, Bayliss!

I'm not. Everything'll be OK.

- You think this was my fault?
- Let's not start with that!

There's no fingers at nobody
but Junior.

And Georgia Rae.

Have a heart, man. Uncuff me.

You think I'm taking a chance
after what happened tonight?

- Lucky you're not in leg irons.
- Where's Nessa?

- Talking to Detective Stivers.
- Why drag her into this?

- She didn't help you?
- Help me?

- To set up Eugene Richmond?
- Oh, that PO who got capped?

- I ain't involved with that.
- Come on!

He was messing with you,
your job, your girlfriend.

When Pony asked you to hit Richmond,
you jumped at it.

Pony? Who's Pony?

Don't dummy up on me!
I'm not in the mood!

The shots from the drive-by
did not kill Richmond.

You were in the car.
You shot him point blank.

Your blood was in the car.
You got clipped in the crossfire.

That bullet out of your arm will
match a gun that killed Richmond.

- Y'all trying to frame me.
- Think about how it went down, Carl.

Pony sets up the hit,
then he sends back-up,

not to finish off Richmond,
to do you!

You wanna take the heat
100 per cent for this fiasco, fine!

Take it!

Nah...

Not really, no.

To hell with that.

I was gonna do
the rat bastard myself,

but I guess this is the next best thing.

Why didn't you warn Richmond
that there was a contract on him?

- I didn't wanna get Carl into trouble.
- Excuse me?

Eugene would have violated Carl
back to prison for talking to Pony.

Besides, I didn't think anything
was gonna happen anyway.

I thought it was all just talk,
you know?

What happened?
The squad room looks like the Alamo!

Junior Bunk snatched a weapon
out of Tambella's desk.

Gharty, Ballard, three uniforms got hit.

Could've happened to anybody.
We've all left our guns in our desks.

- How are they?
- The uniforms are dead.

Springs, Kecken, Moore.

Three down.

- Gharty got shot in the chest.
- He gonna make it?

I don't know.
It's touch and go, I think.

- Ballard got hit in the ankle.
- That doesn't sound so bad.

She might lose her foot.

God!

They're both still in surgery.

♪ You can dance

♪ Every dance with the guy
Who gives you the eye

♪ Let him hold you tight

♪ You can smile

♪ Every smile for the man
who held your hand

♪ 'Neath the pale moonlight

♪ But don't forget
who's taking you home

♪ And in whose arms you're gonna be

♪ So darlin',
Save the last dance for me

♪ Oh, I know that the music's fine
like sparkling wine

- ♪ Go and have your fun
- ♪ Oh, I know

♪ Laugh and sing
but while we're apart

♪ Don't give your heart to anyone

♪ But don't forget
who's taking you home

♪ And in whose arms you're gonna be

♪ So darlin',
save the last dance for me

♪ Baby, don't you know
I love you so

♪ Can't you feel it when we touch

♪ I will never, never let you go ♪

♪ I love you oh, so much

♪ You can dance,
go and carry on

♪ Till the night is gone
and it's time to go

♪ If he asks if you're all alone

♪ Can he take you home,
you must him tell no

♪ Cos don't forget
who's taking you home

♪ And in whose arm's you're gonna be

♪ So, darlin',
save the last dance for me

♪ Save the last dance for me

♪ Mmm...
Save the last dance for me ♪

- So, Ballard and Gharty?
- Still under the knife.

- You put Pony's stooges to bed?
- Yeah.

- Didn't much feel like it.
- We keep working. We have to.

- They gave it up pretty quick.
- Not like Junior Bunk.

We should've kept at him in the Box,
then none of this would've happened!

Maybe we went at him too hard,
gave him no way out.

We were careless and cocky,
that's what!

No recriminations, not yet.
Not until we finish this.

No one in the Mahoney organisation
sleeps tonight.

We take everyone. We take every
house. We kick in every door.

Georgia Rae wanted a war.
Well, guess what, she's got one!

Now, let's go.

♪ One more heartache, baby,
I can't take it now

♪ My heart is carrying
such a heavy load

♪ One more ache would break it

♪ Just like a camel
with a heavy pack

♪ Yeah, one last straw, they say,
broke the camel's back

♪ Oh, babe

♪ Whoa

♪ I can't take it, babe,
I can't stand it now

♪ One more heartache,
it would turn me right around

♪ First you build my hopes up high,
then you let me down

♪ Like a house built of toothpicks
stacked up on a kitchen chair

♪ One last toothpick tore it down,
the foundation was not able

♪ Oh, babe

♪ Whoa

♪ I can't take it, babe

♪ I can't stand it now
Whoa ♪

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