All language subtitles for Hill.Street.Blues.S02E17.Shooter.720p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor_prob3_track3_[und]

NARRATOR:
Previously on Hill Street Blues...

You promised me
you weren't gonna be that kind of cop.

I know.

Oh, for God's sake, Henry,
what were you trying to prove?

Rachel and I are getting a divorce.

I just can't keep
going through the motions, Frank.

Damn it to hell!

-RENKO: Daddy--
-TRACY: He's got six weeks.

Everyone knows it but him.

It isn't right.
If he wants to go home, he should go home.

You don't get radiation
and chemotherapy at home.

I went from a fifth a day
to nearly seven--

-I don't wanna hear it, J.D.
-You don't understand--

As of this moment,
pending an investigation,

you're assigned to the motor pool.

NARRATOR:
And now, tonight on Hill Street Blues...

We have two officers down,
one DOA, the other critical.

You people wouldn't transfer him!

You-- You put his application
in a drawer, and--

-Mrs. Halloran, I'm terribly--
-Don't be sorry!

Someone used that gun
to kill a police officer.

We're trying to find out who.

Go check your records.

The cops took the gun as evidence.
You guys got it.

This is the seventh time in four years

I've had to tell the wife
of one of my cops he's been killed.

And you're not troubled by the fact that
we'll be setting free, within three years,

a man who down the road may sell guns
to a dozen more killers?

(chattering)

PHIL: Item 12.

Be reminded that subsequent
to the morning briefing,

nearly a dozen reps from, uh,
various domestic armament firms

will be convening in these chambers

for the Third Annual Tactical Arms
and Firepower Exhibit,

which is open to all
sworn personnel of Hill Street,

Washington Heights and Fillmore precincts.

Now, those officers wishing
to update themselves in advances

on "optimum security hardware
and techniques"

are hereby authorized one half-hour
duty allocation for said convention.

You know, it might bode well for us
to take a look, fellas.

Uh, what's available to us today,
the competition has tomorrow.

Which brings me to Item 13,

that shooters' alley off Tupper
near the Wonder Bar.

According to local storekeepers,

it's starting to look like
downtown Calcutta over there.

(laughter)

So, what do you say we make a few
highly visible, hypodermic runs

through the gauntlet today, huh?

All right, fellas.
Now, pay special attention to Item 14.

Item 14 concerns, uh,

the assembly of lures for deepwater bass

using flaming orange,

plastic night crawler,

silver beads, and a number-four hook.

Halloran?

Or, in more general terms,
the long overdue burst of warm weather

that has afflicted us all.

Now, be reminded, in the springtime,

a young felon's fancy turns to robbery,
rape, and aggravated assault.

A sunny sky can put a purse snatcher
into a frenzy of creativity.

Muggers, long imprisoned
by the severity of this past winter,

are yearning to breathe free again.

It behooves those of us
likely to be rendered less wary

by said glorious weather
to keep an eye open.

-I mean it.
-Which one, Sarge?

(laughing)

All right. That's it. Let's roll.

And hey, hey, hey!

Now, let's be careful out there.

(indistinct conversations)

Belker. Come on, move.

Move!

RENKO: I cannot help that.
I got to be here.

Look, I got things happening
down here, too.

You understand me?

-RENKO: I do!
-Sit, hairball!

So, big deal.
You're tired of hearing about it.

If you'd left him
in the hospital like I said,

there wouldn't be any problem,
would there?

We could swing by your dad's over lunch.

Great, that means he'll only be alone
18 hours today.

-Well, have you thought about a nurse?
-$300 a day.

Belker.

Hi, Ma.

Ma, you wanna settle down? Wha--

Because you sound
a little hysterical to me.

What do you mean,
there's a pervert in the house?

Ma. Ma, Ma!

Just because you found a dirty book
in his underwear drawer

doesn't make him a pervert.

(snickers)

Do you wanna hold on a second, Ma?

How would you like
an ear for breakfast, dirt bag?

Ma?

Ma, I'm gonna be very honest with you.

You should be glad
he still shows some interest.

MRS. BELKER (over phone):
I want you to come and arrest your father.

I'm not gonna come down there
and arrest my own father.

-MRS. BELKER (over phone): Why not?
-For two reasons.

First of all, Ma,
he's protected by the Constitution.

And second of all, I got a driver's test
in a couple of hours.

MRS. BELKER (over phone): Cancel it.

I can't, I've been waiting for this
appointment for over five weeks now.

-MRS. BELKER (over phone): Cancel it!
-I can't cancel it.

I'm driving on an expired driver's license
now for three years.

It's getting very embarrassing.

MRS. BELKER (over phone):
Have you studied...

Yes, I studied for it. All this week, Ma.

-MRS. BELKER (over phone): Really?
-Really. Really!

-MRS. BELKER (over phone): Really?
-Really!

-MRS. BELKER (over phone): I love you.
-I love you too, Ma. Goodbye.

(whimpers)

Name.

Killy, Jean-Claude.

(growls)

WOMAN (on radio):
Dispatch. We have a 9-11.

Armed robbery in progress.

See Surplus Store,
corner People's Drive and 124th Street.

(sirens wailing)

(theme music playing)

I'm telling you, Henry, now that you're
on your way to becoming a single male,

you have just got to rethink
your financial priorities.

Only $3,500 down
will make you a full partner.

What do you say, sport?

Listen, we will work out
cohabitation arrangements later.

Thank you, Howard,

but an underground condo
doesn't exactly appeal to me,

financially or otherwise.

Henry, what are the two most
pressing problems of our time?

Inflation, nuclear holocaust.

Here's your hedge against both.

Judas H., man!

The Russians have seven warheads
designated for this population area alone.

That may be so, Howard,

but who in his right mind
would want to survive like that?

PHIL: I second the motion, Howard.

I'd rather be vaporized than live amongst
a decimated population

of, uh, radioactive nomads.

That is precisely the point
of First Strike Estates, Phil.

It's survival with dignity.

Take this activities room, for instance.

It's buried half under a mountain.
We have 2,000 videotapes here.

Ping-pong. Piped-in nature sounds.

And enough foodstuffs to take us
to the goldarn tricentennial.

I'd like to see some of that literature,
Lieutenant.

Makes sense to me.

Well, uh, Brunswick. Um--

Well, you see, actually, uh,
the fact is that they're sold out.

I mean, Henry here is just hoping
for a cancellation.

"K-R-E-B-S-P"--

Uh, you want
to try that again, Mr. Belker?

Yes, ma'am.

"K-R-E-B"--

Mr. Belker, that's not any of the lines.

Not even close.

I'm going to have to mark you
for corrective lenses.

What are you talking about, ma'am?

You said the bottom line, right?

"K-R-E-B-S P-U-B-L-I-S-H-I-N-G C-O,
period."

Krebs Publishing Company.

WOMAN: Uh, would you mind
taking your hat off, please, Mr. Belker?

Okay, uh, now, smile, Mr. Belker.

Come on, Mr. Belker.
Smile now so I could take the picture.

Thank you, Mr. Belker.

I can issue you a citation.

-I can flunk you right now.
-Flunk me? For what?

Look at this.

You got no side-view mirror.

You got no front license plate. Huh?

Hmm? Look at this.

Your back license plate's held on
by a coat hanger.

You got a broken taillight.

And look at this, huh? What is this?

Look at this bumper.
It's about to fall off.

Mr. Santos, you wanna take a look at this?

I'm an undercover police officer.
I gotta have a vehicle like this.

(sighs)

Well, I suppose if you're a cop,
we can make one exception.

-We'll use one of our vehicles.
-Thank you very much.

Switch to the right lane, please.

Gee, this is a nice vehicle.
Smells brand-new.

It is brand-new.
Just came into the pool last week.

Turn right, please.

Look at that. Real smooth.

Please, Mr. Belker. Enough conversation.

Up here you'll parallel park.

(man yelling in Spanish)

(alarm blaring)

(man continues yelling in Spanish)

(tires screeching)

Come on, hairball. That's a stickup!

Police, armpit! Freeze!

Get down there and suck dirt, dog breath!

Move!

(alarm blaring)

Hey, you'll never guess who I saw
at Gabriel's Gate last night.

That meat rack on Allen Street?

Wait, let me guess.
J.D.'s off the wagon again.

-Henry Goldblume.
-No.

I mean, he looked like a college professor

who took the wrong turn
going to the library.

He was just standing
in the middle of the crowd, staring,

with his hair all combed, new bow tie.

Poor guy. Married all those years.

He doesn't have a clue.

I suppose you wanna give him the course

in Contemporary Mediterranean
Lounge Lizardry, part one, huh?

Hey!

-COFFEY: That's real funny.
-(laughing)

What's the matter?

I saw something. Unattended unit.

(chattering on radio)

Looks like Halloran and Tubbs.

This is Unit 2203.

We've got an unattended unit here.
We're gonna check it out.

(horn honks)

Joe.

MAN (over radio): Yeah?

The door's open.

(chattering on radio continues)

Lock's broken.

Jack! Wally!

Joe.

Economy, versatility,
penetration and firepower.

The Armaco Bunker Buster,
37-millimeter tear gas grenade launcher,

is, without a doubt,
the modern policeman's best defense

against the urban uncertainties of today.

At a weight of less than eight kilos,
the Bunker Buster supplies one man

with the same relative field strength

as a fully mobilized squad
of combat infantrymen.

Its rapid fire, ease of operation,
and dependability

make the Bunker Buster the most effective
instrument of crowd control

ever developed in the free world.

Budget some of these, Buck,
and I'll flush every geek fortress

from here to the Avenue B overpass.

For the price of any two of these, Howard,

we could supply every man and woman
in the precinct with a bulletproof vest.

You know, with the Teflon bullets
they're making these days,

they cut through our flak jackets
like a knife through a meringue.

MAN: Commander Remington.

Alan Braverman.

We talked about rapid tear gas deployment
last convention.

-Ah.
-Alan Braverman.

Covert Tech!

Ah, of course. Covert Tech.

(chuckles)

Wait till you see
what I've got for you this year.

We have a CN dispersal-type gas
10 times stronger than last year's gas.

-Hello.
-Hi.

-It's a bit numbing, isn't it?
-Hmm?

All this-- calibers and muzzle velocity,
cyclic rates.

To be honest...

Captain...

-Furillo.
-Furillo.

I find it all very ostentatious.

May I show you something?

Sure.

(gun cocking)

Go ahead. Take it.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

(gun cocking)

No pretension. Just craftsmanship.

I see it as the standard issue
of the future.

German-made, .380 auto,
eight-shot magazine,

one in the chamber.

Francis.

Excuse me.

Yeah, Phil?

We have two officers down,
one DOA, the other critical.

Who?

Jack Halloran and Wallace Tubbs.

Halloran's the fatality.

They were shot inside
a stereo shop on Jefferson.

Uh, the shooter was right there, Frank.

They came in the back
as he was burglarizing the store.

I guess they didn't check the office.
He was behind them.

When they got over here,
he stepped out and fired five times.

The ME says it was a large bore,
probably a .357.

He was a back shooter, Frank.

-What time did it happen?
-7:00, 7:30.

Tubbs and Halloran
must have seen something in the alley,

something that didn't look
particularly dangerous.

Anyway, they didn't call it in.

Did he take anything from the store?

The owner says yes.
Radios, tape players and stuff.

We're getting the list together now.

Halloran was the one who was married?

Yeah.

(chattering on radios)

Wally gonna make it?

We don't know.

I gotta get the unit down to Impound
for forensics.

Looks like the shooter
took money off the victims,

so they figure he probably
went through the unit, too.

You want me along?

No! I want you down here
knocking on doors.

Check with delivery services,
garbage pickups,

anybody who might have been in the alley
at the time of the shooting.

-Talk to the bums who sleep here.
-Hey, Captain!

Found this Colt Python .357
in a trash bin 100 yards back.

There's still one unfired round in it.

Find him.

-Mrs. Halloran?
-Yes.

I'm Captain Furillo from Hill Street.

Is there someplace we could talk
for a few minutes?

Uh--

(door closes)

-Mrs. Halloran--
-Is he alive?

Just-- Just tell me that.

Jack was shot and killed
sometime this morning in the line of duty.

He and Wallace Tubbs
were investigating a break-in.

Wallace was shot too. He's in surgery now.

No arrests have been made yet.

Jack was a fine officer
and a fine man, Mrs. Halloran.

His-- His transfer was in.

Three months ago it went in.

He-- He was gonna transfer
off the Hill, and...

then we were gonna have a baby.

But you people wouldn't listen.

You people wouldn't transfer him!

You-- You put his application
in a drawer, and--

-Mrs. Halloran, I'm terribly--
-Don't be sorry!

Don't. (sobbing)

(sobbing continues)

Get out of here!

Get a man over to Silva Sanitation.

They make a collection down that alley
Tuesdays and Thursdays,

usually at 4:00 a.m.,
but they may have been late this time.

What about the Transit Authority?

Get a man over to the Jefferson Bus Barn
to pick up trip sheets.

Same with Top Hat Taxi.
Same with Yellow Dog Taxi.

If anybody saw anything,
we want to talk to him.

Oh, make sure everybody checks
with their snitches.

And light a fire under
that store owner Jacobs.

In the first place,
we don't want him concocting anything

for tax or insurance purposes.

And in the second place,
how long does an inventory take?

We watched him through the whole count.

Eight ghetto blasters missing
and three cases of auto cassette decks.

We have notified all pawnshops,

and I got Perez and Ellis
at the bus company,

Coley and Lyle to the cab garages,

and Hill, Renko, Coffey, Bates
on the shop people.

Any word on Tubbs?

He's still in surgery.

Uh, Francis, preliminary forensics.

No obvious unaccountable prints
on the door or windows.

Possible dirt print.

Nine-and-a-half work shoe,
just outside the rear door.

But they suspect the guy
was wearing gloves.

HENRY: Frank?

Ballistics just matched
the bullets to the .357.

Well, who's it registered to?
Where's the name?

Joseph P. Alessi.
Doing business as Ace High Liquors.

-A sole-proprietor business permit.
-All right. Get over there.

As soon as Tubbs is able to talk,
I want a man over there too.

-All right.
-Francis, Chief Daniels on four.

He's called five times.

Wanting to know why we're dragging
our feet, no doubt.

MANUEL: Tomorrow, right?

Tomorrow I'm gonna get some bail, right?

Don't count on it, Manuel.

This is your third robbery arrest
in a year!

The judge isn't going to let you out!

Hey, look, you gotta
do something for me, you know?

You have to believe me!

My son is a good boy.
He never hurt anybody!

I'm sorry.
I don't think you belong in here.

-I can tell that you think he did it.
-Ma'am?

You people are all alike!

-Ma'am, this is a restricted area.
-(shouting in Spanish)

You gotta get me a lawyer, man, you know?
She's nothing, man!

(Manuel shouting in Spanish)

(shouting in Spanish) You know?

You gotta get me some bail, Ma!
(shouting Spanish)

Of course I won't issue a statement.
Nothing without your approval.

Yeah, she's been told.

-DANIELS (over phone): Kids?
-No. No children.

DANIELS (over phone):
All right, I want to hear any word.

Right. I'll get back to you, Chief.

As soon as I know something,
you'll know something!

(dial tone hums)

(slams receiver down)

JOYCE: Some morning. I'm sorry.

No, it's--

What can I do for you, Joyce?

I'm up here on heroic assignment,

defending a sensitive,
misunderstood young Hispanic

who robs people by sticking
an umbrella in their back.

I suppose we should be grateful
he doesn't run them through.

You probably don't want to hear
about this now, but...

I picked up the plane tickets
this morning.

Uh, I think we're both
gonna need this vacation.

Just say the word, big guy.
We could both quit.

Go down to Saint Croix
and open up a real Italian pizza parlor.

-No, a bait shop.
-(Joyce laughs)

A bait shop, you don't have to learn
how to throw that dough in the air.

(both laughing)

Oh, all right. A bait shop.

You want to get together later?

Uh-- Yeah, let's see what happens here.

(Frank sighs)

I'll be home,

as late as you want.

By the way, I worked with
Jack Halloran a few times.

I thought he was a real good guy.

He was.

-Can I help you?
-NEAL: We're police officers, ma'am.

We'd like to speak with
the owner, Mr. Alessi.

That's my husband.
He's been dead a year and a half.

HENRY: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
But if you could help us, please.

Mr. Alessi owned a gun,
a Colt Python .357.

(door bells jingle)

So what about it?

Someone used that gun
to kill a police officer.

We're trying to find out who.

We were hoping you might know
what happened to the gun

after your husband owned it.

Happened to it? It got my husband killed,
That's what happened to it.

-Ma'am?
-The robbery.

My husband was killed in a robbery,
October 14, 1980.

Go check your records.
The cops took the gun as evidence.

You guys got it.

You know, if my husband
hadn't pulled out that gun,

they wouldn't have shot him.

Ma'am, if you remember,

the name of the man who shot your husband.

What do I want to remember his name for?

I mean, I've been robbed
three times since then.

I just give 'em the money.

I'll tell you something--

I thought you guys were gonna rob me.

(siren blaring)

Let's try the south side
of Bryant Street again.

Somebody must have seen something.

I thought you wanted
to check with your father.

Ah, damn. I forgot.

Listen, I'm gonna have to keep working.

I'll swing by and see him
after we're done.

Hey, cowboy, how are you and him
getting along anyway?

Okay, I guess.

Between all the cooking and the cleaning,

I've seen more of him in the last month
than I have in the last 10 years.

Oh, that's good. I'm glad to hear that.

I hate him, Bobby.
He don't care about nothing or nobody.

Don't even care enough to try.

I've hated him ever since I was a kid.

And now he's gonna die on me before
I have a chance to do anything about it.

DISPATCHER: Any units in the vicinity,
see man with gun at 416 Wilcox.

Repeat-- man with gun, 416 Wilcox.

Unit 2202 responding. Let's hit it.

(engine revving)

(tires screeching)

-MAN: Get out of here!
-MAN 2: The hell I will!

MAN: I said, stop it!

MAN 2: I ain't going!
Give me another drink!

-MAN: You've had enough to drink, old man.
-I want a drink!

I spend my money in this place! (shouting)

Freeze! Gun!

No, Renko!

Geez!

You said "man with a gun."
Where's the gun?

Lousy drunk.

Tried to cut him off,
but he wouldn't leave.

Almost jumped the bar.

He's clean.

Where's the gun, man?

Get your hands off me.
I never said anything about no gun.

MAN 2: The man's lying.

-They all heard him make the call.
-RENKO: Shut up!

Had a brawl in here last month.

Took you cops 45 minutes to get here.
Forty-five!

-At least you're here, aren't you?
-You lousy piece of--

HILL: Renko! Renko!

Renko! What are you doing?
Stop! What are you doing?

Let go of me. Let go of me.

And you, get out of here
and find someplace else to get drunk.

You do that again,
and I'm not gonna take him off your butt!

(bat clattering on floor)

Let's get another car
down there in the alley,

make sure we haven't missed anything.

Frank, I gotta talk to you.

Can it wait, Fay? I'm up to my ears.

No, it cannot.

Frank, I may be in serious trouble
with the police.

There may be a warrant out for my arrest.

What did you do this time?

Nothing.
But don't tell that to Florine Kaplan.

She's threatening to charge me
with corrupting the morals of a minor.

Statutory rape.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Who's Florine Kaplan?

She's Joanna Kaplan's mother--

a little girl in Frank Jr.'s class
that he plays with sometimes.

Oh, God. It's all my fault.
How could I be so stupid?

He invited her over to play today,

and when her mother came to pick her up,

we went to Frank Jr.'s bedroom
where I had left them alone.

They were playing doctor, Frank.

Every kid in the world plays doctor.
What's she so upset about?

They were naked, Frank. Stark naked.

With a look of great discovery
on their faces.

-How can you laugh?
-Well, it's funny.

And right now I could use a good laugh.

Frank, she's threatening
to have me arrested.

I don't think I could stand
spending any more time in prison.

I'm very vulnerable right now.

She's not gonna have you arrested.
She's just upset.

-Can she sue me?
-For what?

A couple of kids with normal curiosity?

Oh, Frank, you don't understand.
She went crazy.

She accused me of raising
a depraved child,

of inflicting psychological damage
on her daughter.

Fay, you've raised
a perfectly normal child.

(Fay sighs)

Well, we both have.

Don't worry. She'll calm down.

Lord, I hope so.

Excuse me, Francis. Hello, Fay.

Wallins from the property department
is here.

He's brought the records
on that .357 that killed Halloran.

-He's in Interrogation.
-Thanks, Phil.

Jack Halloran?

Oh, Phil. I didn't know.

Early this morning.

HUNTER: Fay, Fay.

Have you thought about the future
of young Frank Jr. lately,

vis-à-vis the unthinkable?

-Howard?
-First Strike Estates, Fay.

When the big blast hits,
are you just gonna go up in ash?

Well, here it is. Pink sheet 199436.

A .357 confiscated as evidence
in a liquor store robbery

and transferred to the property department
for disposal.

I sent it to the Westgate
wrecking facility on December 12,

just like I told you guys over the phone.

It never got there, Wallins.
We checked with Westgate.

(chuckles) You're giving more credence
to their records than to mine?

I mean, come on. They're a--

A lousy civilian salvage yard. (chuckles)

Those "civilians" sent you three letters
last January

apprising you
of the inventory discrepancy.

Look, fellas, I-- I ship nearly 50 pieces
out of that place a day.

Over 250 pieces a week,
from 14 different precincts--

I mean, .22s, .38s, .45s,
nine millimeters.

I mean, you name it-- everything from, uh,
peashooters to grenade launchers.

I mean, how in the hell am I supposed
to know what happened to it?

Come on, fellas.
Give me a break, will ya? I mean...

Stuff gets stolen out of there
all the time.

We know.

Oh, I see.

I see. I get it.
You think I ripped it off, right?

Well, there are two other guys
in the property department

who do the same job as me.

-How come you ain't asking them questions?
-FRANK: Mm-mm.

Weapon number 199436
went through your hands.

Hey, come on.

What's so important
about this piece, anyhow?

FRANK: You heard about
the cop-killing this morning?

This supposedly demolished .357 did it.

HENRY: So, big deal
if you skimmed a gun off the heap.

We're not looking to burn you, Wallins,
but we will if we have to.

You're just four months
short of your 20 years, aren't you?

You really wanna throw 19 years
down the drain, man?

No pension, no medical, retirement--
all shot to hell.

Seem--

Seemed like such a waste at the time--

putting a $600 piece into the grinder.

I gave it to my brother-in-law
for Christmas.

JAWORSKI: No, no, no.
He didn't give me the .357.

-He sold it to me for 200 clams.
-HENRY: Mm-hmm.

I only had the darn piece about two weeks
before the house was robbed.

Those slimebags nearly got
my entire collection.

Cost me three grand over the
insurance money to have it all replaced.

And that's not counting
the Webley Mark IV.

They broke in through that window
while the wife and I were at her sister's.

Good gun, the Python.

How long ago was that, Mr. Jaworski?

I don't know, a couple of weeks
after my brother-in-law brought it over.

January 14 or 15, I think.

Say, this officer, he-- he have a family?

-Wife.
-(Jaworski sighs)

What a world, huh? Makes you wonder--
whatever happened to morality?

Have you got a burglary report
you can show us?

We--

Well, not really.
I mean, uh, I don't even think I kept it.

(chuckles) Look, Mr. Jaworski,
we're not here to cause you any trouble,

but we gotta verify all this.

JAWORSKI: Yeah, well, that's the problem.

You see, seeing that I didn't have
the registration

and so as not to get my brother-in-law
in any kind of trouble,

I didn't report the .357.

Hey, fellas. Come on, now.

I'm really sorry about that--
that cop of yours, but it's not my fault.

I am just a collector.

Were there any other weapons stolen
you thought it best not to report?

Uh, no. Uh, um, nothing worth mentioning.

Well, actually there was
this Uzi submachine gun

my cousin picked up in Miami.

(clears throat)

I swear to God, Frank,
this gun's been around town

more than some social diseases.

The liquor store owner,
the property clerk, his brother-in-law.

Now we find out this Jaworski character

had the .357 stolen out of his home
last January,

and he never put it
on the burglary report.

I don't suppose we've
nailed anybody on this one.

HENRY: It's been in the dead file
since last month.

Neal's running down the numbers
of the other stolen pieces now.

One of 'em's an Uzi submachine gun, Frank.

A conspicuous piece like that could put us
right back on the track.

Think we might have something.

Black market gun dealer
by the name of Anthony Barto.

Busted last month
for selling to an undercover.

Part of the haul was the Uzi.

-Okay. Pick him up.
-NEAL: We already got him, Captain.

He's in county lockup.

Ray, get me the ADA,
I don't care what he's doing.

-I want him down at County in 15 minutes.
-All right, Frank.

Pepi, try to raise Renko for me.
It's about his father, huh?

WOMAN (on P.A.):
Dr. Collins, ICU, third floor, stat.

Dr. Collins.

What happened?

I went over to the house at one o'clock.

He was paralyzed from the chest down.

-His spine collapsed.
-Is there anything you can do about it?

He's gonna die, Mr. Renko.

Maybe tonight or tomorrow,
the next day at the latest.

Can I talk to him?

Sure.

Just don't expect very much.
He's heavily sedated.

I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee, okay?
I'll be back in a few minutes.

Where's Tommy?

I've been trying him all afternoon.
I'll try him again.

-Andy, look--
-Just go get a cup of coffee.

-(labored breathing)
-(Renko sobbing)

(siren blaring)

(chattering)

MAN: About three weeks.

You bought an Uzi nine-millimeter
automatic rifle,

serial number 932846B,

as in "Baker."

We're interested in knowing
from whom you made the purchase.

Gentlemen, that information
doesn't come without a price tag.

We're prepared to make
some kind of an agreement.

What are you offering?

A kick down of all counts to "D" felonies.

Lose one of the sales
and all of the possessions except one.

Stick it. You gotta do better than that.

Mr. Barto, you're currently awaiting trial

on two counts
of unlawful sale of a firearm

and 32 counts of unlawful possession.

You have, if memory serves me,
two prior felony convictions.

Now, it doesn't seem to me that you're
in any position to bargain at this point.

When I tried to deal this a couple
of weeks ago, you guys give me squat.

(chuckles) Now, all of a sudden,
you're climbing the walls.

We're not "climbing the walls,"
as you say, Mr. Barto.

We've simply reevaluated our position.

Could we cut through the manure?

You'd love to get away with a misdemeanor,

but you'd settle for a bargain basement
"E" felony in a pinch, wouldn't you?

You don't want to give him
a bargain basement "E,"

but as long as it's not cut down
to a misdemeanor, you won't look too bad,

and we're the ones after the information,
aren't we?

But I wouldn't be so smug
if I were you, Barto.

With your priors, if you don't deal now,

and we have to get
the information elsewhere,

you're gonna be leaving prison
in a walker.

Two days or two weeks from now,
you'd have to get to this anyway,

and I don't have the time.

LAWYER: Does he speak for you?

-I'll see what I can do.
-LAWYER: That's not good enough.

I'll recommend it.

Promise it.

Okay.

You understand, I-I-I got a street name
or something, maybe.

What is it?

(sighs)

William Harris. Billy.

Bill Harris, he's a burglar.
He's got a lot of hot guns.

Frank! Thanks a hell of a lot.

You really cut me off at the knees
in there, you know that?

Marv, I have one man dead
and another man shot,

and all I have to go on
is a trail of weaponry.

If we keep jerking around here,
we're gonna get lost.

Barto's the only one
who can keep us moving.

And you're not troubled by the fact that
we'll be setting free, within three years,

a man who down the road may sell guns
to a dozen more killers?

They can always get guns, Marv.
The world's full of guns.

Chief, it's not my fault
the central computer's down.

Nor is it my fault that Division's
manual files are two years out of date.

Please. Please!
Just have a little patience.

HENRY: Whoa, wait. Don't put me on hold!

Francis, it's gonna be three hours.

(sighs) Do what you can, Phil.

HENRY: You're the first person
I've talked to.

Our computer's down.

We just want to plug into the FBI's
for a couple of hours.

Hey, listen, Rolly-boy.

You get out on the street
and find me this Billy Harris.

Your nose is gonna feel
real sweet tonight, babe.

Yeah, I know it's a clumsy misuse
of federal program time,

but our computer's down!

Here's a guy--

William T. Harris.
GTA, assault, burglary.

He's been upstate three years.

Mike.

This is some of Halloran
and Tubbs's stuff.

I got it out of the back of their unit.

NEAL: J.D.!

Hey, Neal.

-How's your investigation coming?
-(sighs)

Did you ever know a guy on the street
by the name of Billy Harris?

-Knew a William Harris.
-5'8", thin, white dude. Light brown hair?

No, no, this guy was Black.
What about this Billy Harris?

Well, in March he sold an Uzi to a dude.

Back in January, that same Uzi
got ripped off from a collector

along with the .357 that shot Halloran.

So, could be he was just some middle guy
who never saw the .357.

Could be he had the .357
and sold it to some other dude.

-Or could be--
-Wait-- Wait a minute.

What about Billy Harrison?
Squirrel Harrison.

-Who?
-Mean little dude. Burglar.

Used to deal speed and acid
in the Heights.

He ran with a snitch of mine,
Sammy Liddle.

You know, he kind of fits
your description.

William Harrison.

A.K.A. the Squirrel, A.K.A. William Hart,

A.K.A. Billy Williamson,
A.K.A. William Harris.

Last address, May '73,
Glen Oaks Drug-Free Rehabilitation.

Maybe when the computer's back,
we'll get something newer.

Come on, lover.
Wanna go find Sammy Liddle?

-Sammy!
-J.D.

Hey, uh, long time no see.
What are you doing?

Your old lady told me you were down here.

Hey, she's really got you
domesticated, huh?

Yeah, I'm the regular Paul Newman
of the fluff-and-fold set.

So, uh-- So, what's happenin'?
You just around or what?

I, uh-- I need for us to do
a little business together, Sammy.

What kind of business?

Here, babe. Let me give you a hand, okay?

Billy Harrison. Squirrel Harrison.
We need to find him.

You tell us where he is,
you make a fast 50.

It's your basic mutuality of interest.

I don't do that no more, J.D.
You know I'd love to, but I can't.

Hey. What's that mean, "can't"?

Remember a guy named Marty Gleason,
arm twister for Jake Radnitz?

Well, I rolled over on the guy
about six months ago.

He copped, and he came out in three days.

They took me in an alley, J.D.,
really worked me over.

I spent a couple of weeks
in Intensive Care.

So what it is is,
I-I can't snitch no more.

It ain't no good for my health.

The wife wants to know I'll be coming home
every day in one piece.

No, no, no, no.
This wouldn't have to be like snitching.

It's more like being a good citizen.
Hey, all we need's an address on the guy.

You don't understand.

Billy Harrison is worse
than Marty Gleason.

And Gleason is crazy.

He slammed me face-first
into a brick wall.

Yeah? Hmm.

-Did he put you in a dryer?
-Huh?

He slammed you face-first
into a brick wall, Sammy,

but did he put you in a dryer?

No.

Tell me where Squirrel Harrison is,
or I'm gonna put you in that dryer.

Hey, come on, man. Quit kidding around.

You-- You wouldn't do that.

I got a pocketful of quarters.

Now, the first cycle might not kill you,
but the second one--

Your face is gonna wind up
two sizes smaller, my man.

I'm not kidding, Sammy.

-I'm gonna put you in there.
-Hey, hey! Come on, guys!

-There's people all over the place.
-So what?

Who cares about his fellow man anymore?
Huh?

Hey! Hey!

Just blow-drying his hair, ma'am.

Now, talk to me Sammy, huh?
Come on. Squirrel Harrison.

Okay, okay! I'll talk! Okay! Okay! Okay.

You don't have to be
so hostile all the time.

Last time I heard,
he was living over on 119th Street.

Corner building, next to the deli.

Attaboy.

Sorry we had to get rough,
Sammy, but this one's kind of important.

Let's go, man.

Man, sometimes I don't know
where you get that stuff.

I don't know, Neal. It just comes to me.

NEAL: He's our man, Henry. Take a look.

Stuff from the stereo shop.

(thunder rumbling)

HENRY (on bullhorn):
Freeze it right there, Harrison.

Hands away from your body.

(gunfire)

This is the seventh time in four years

I've had to tell the wife
of one of my cops he's been killed.

It's guerrilla warfare out there.
They kill us, we kill them.

You need a scorecard to tell the players.

Every crazy's got a gun.

(siren blaring)

Not just the crazies, Frank.

I've got one, too.

Since when?

Since Pam was murdered.
I keep it in my purse.

Joyce, handguns are illegal in this state
without a carry permit.

I've got a carry permit.

I pulled a favor from Bob Hazeltine
in the D.A.'s office.

FRANK: I don't like it.

Neither do I, but I won't be helpless.

-Joyce.
-Frank, please.

Come to bed.

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

Please.

(clears throat)

(thunderclap)

(closing theme playing)