Original subtitles

They are kids.

They are criminals.

And they are out of control.

Celebrating year 2000 without remembering the origin of our common era,

is like celebrating a birthday, but forgetting the birthday boy.

Jesus from Nazareth.

One out of three municipalities lack a crisis plan for the transition into year 2000.

- Hospitals might collapse. - Internet in your pocket is coming.

Today, you no longer start with weed.

You go straight to ecstasy and speed.

“All I want is to have fun.”

The use of drugs among youth has exploded.

It doesn’t matter to you what it is, as long as you get high.

The police did a big raid during last night’s Hyperstate.

I’m worried he is going to get hooked on heroin.

There are pills made on kitchen counters in The Netherlands.

- Is it wrong to throw 15-year-olds in jail? - They should learn respect and etiquette.

They lack male role models.

Norway is about to be flooded with Rohypnol.

How did it start, Eva?

I don’t know. I just wanted to try!

Police. Freeze!

There is no poverty here. Barely any crime.

KIDS IN CRIME

SARPSBORG, 2001

Tommy!

Tommy!

- Tommy, he’s fucking huge. - Seriously, Tommy, have you seen that guy?

Tommy, seriously, don’t do it.

- I mean, you’re on crutches. - Just fuck it.

Why the hell would you…

Tommy!

Come here!

I want to talk to him alone.

Ever since I was little, I’ve felt special.

And when I grow up, I’m going to become something great.

SPORTS OR CRIME?

At first, I thought I was going to become a soccer pro.

But then I fucked up my knee.

After the surgery, the doctor said I could forget about ever playing soccer again.

“You can play golf,” the idiot claimed.

Golf?

What the fuck?

So, I had to think again.

If my purpose wasn’t soccer,

then what was it?

My hometown Sarpsborg is built around this waterfall.

By Saint Olaf himself.

"Sarpefossen" and "Borregaard" should be the first and the last to be mentioned

in the story of the industrial town Sarpsborg.

And in Sarp in 2001,

you can choose between two things:

sports

or crime.

And 2001 was the year Rohypnol hit the town like a tidal wave.

It was thanks to this guy.

Østfold’s biggest dealer of Rohypnol.

Freddy Hell.

He supposedly got the nickname because he liked having parties without people knowing that

right underneath them - someone was tied up in hell.

Unfortunately, we have an increasing problem in this town,

with young punks involved in violence, vandalism and drugs.

Personally, I’d never tried drugs.

But there was a lot of it going around.

You don’t see stuff like that, do you, Tommy?

No.

That Pål guy, the one you used to hang out with,

he’s doing drugs and stuff, isn’t he?

Don’t know… Haven’t talked to him in ages.

I’ve heard he’s started smoking weed and stuff.

I don’t know, Mom.

- Maybe you should try golf, Tommy? - No.

I’m not trying that.

Do you ever see that Susanne girl lately?

Sometimes.

- Sometimes? - I don’t know, Mom.

Can you stop asking questions? It’s like talking to a goddamn journalist.

This isn’t a conversation. Everything’s fine.

That’s the answer to your questions. From here on out.

Talk properly to your mother.

I worry so much, you know.

So, you don’t see much of Pål, then?

Mom…

This is the third time you’re here this week, Pål.

The whole teacher’s office is talking about you.

Do you think it’s fun to wreak havoc, is that it?

Yes, it’s fun.

Pål - who Mom mentioned - was my childhood friend.

He was called Pål Pot because he smokes a lot of pot.

He has something called MDB, which means he can’t sit still.

Pål? Pål, come with me for a moment.

When Pål was 11 and got that MDB diagnosis,

the teacher was obligated to inform the class that Pål

- has "minimal brain dysfunction". - Wait here while I talk to the class, okay?

Meaning Pål has a small brain damage.

Pål has something called MBD, a small brain damage,

which makes his body restless.

So, if Pål is annoying…

From then on, Pål was labeled as brain damaged.

BRAIN DAMAGED

Okay…

So.

After this, Pål became difficult.

We hung out less and less.

Now I think he hates me.

It was me that gave him the nickname Pål Pot.

I know there is a good boy inside there.

Can’t you just calm down a little bit?

- Thanks for the advice. Will do. - No... Pål... Pål.

Sit down. Sit down.

You’re not leaving until I have some answers.

- Answers to what? - What makes you focused and calm?

I’d like to know that, Pål.

When I was 14, I stole Dad’s 600 while he slept.

600, what’s that?

Motorcycle.

Oh. Right.

It was in the middle of the night. Not a single car on the 109 road.

I thought, now that I have the chance, I can go full fucking chat.

In the end, I got it to 250. That was the maximum.

Then I felt focused and calm.

Pål is Norwegian champion in Speedway.

He could make a career of it, if he wants to.

Do you have a light?

This is the queen of amphetamine herself.

MONICA.

Also known as The Gypsy.

She is the only girl in that group,

and maybe the toughest of them all. More about her later.

Have you heard of knocking?

Tommy, what the fuck? What is that?

I think it’s a guy who’s blown his head off with a shotgun.

Fucking hell. You’re not right in the head.

It's just Rotten…

I wanted the boy to say hi to his uncle before we leave.

- Hello. - Hey!

You’ve been in here for three days.

Don’t like fresh air, or what?

Going down to the schoolyard later.

You still hang out there?

Anything wrong about that?

Dad wants to talk to you.

- What is it this time? - Fuck do I know.

But you need to get out of this wanking den, at least.

You are turning 18 next week.

And Mom and I have talked it over.

We have decided you can take over the Corolla, Tommy.

That you’ll get it for your 18th birthday.

Seriously?

Seriously.

Awesome!

But it comes with certain demands.

No more black eyes.

And no more grazed knuckles.

Okay.

Can you promise me that?

Yes, I promise.

And you need to get yourself a job.

We live in the world’s richest country, Tommy.

That didn’t come of itself.

It did come of itself, really.

I mean, we found oil and got rich…

Someone has been standing out there, pumping up that oil, Tommy.

Built the country.

And now it’s your turn.

My name is Tommy Olsen.

I am a 17-year-old, happy guy, who wishes to apply for the job as cashier.

- I’ll have a burger. - That’s 25 NOK.

Why should you hire me?

I’m reliable, hardworking and ambitious.

One double special.

In me, you’ll get a guy who spreads joy among the staff and benefits the workplace.

I’m the sort of guy who puts a smile on both customers and coworkers.

You need to leave.

My goal with work, is to earn enough money

to move out and start adult life.

You counted 16 000 NOK off. You need to leave. You have to leave.

- Hire me. - You get out of here.

Kind regards,

Tommy Olsen.

Fuck!

PS!

Hoping for positive response.

If everything is crap, go to the schoolyard at Hannestad.

- Here, we’ve been hanging out since we were kids. - Yo, Tommy! You sick bastard.

Who hits anyone with a crutch?

You know you were in the newspaper, Tommy?

Seriously?

That dickhead was sent straight to the ER.

- You kidding? - You cracked his skull.

That’s what happens when you act like a little pussy.

- Yo, boys. - Yo!

People came all the way from Moss and Fredrikstad to hang out.

Many of my best memories are from there.

But the truth is…

For the most part, nothing happened…

- Hello? - But this evening…

me and my old friend Pål fixed the entertainment.

Yes, we’re here. Hello?

What’s up?

Pål is coming. Full of roofies…

- He’s been at Freddy’s? - I think so.

- Freddy Hell, you mean? - Yes.

Is he hanging out with him?

Said he was going to break the face of some René guy who owed him money.

- What’s up? - I’ll head home.

- Are you not backing Pål? - No, taking it easy lately.

- You taking off? - Yes.

Good to see you haven’t changed one bit, fucking toy.

Where is that fucking dickhead?

Take it easy, Pål.

Shut up!

Get out.

Get out, you fucking pussy!

Don’t you think I see it’s an air gun?

How do you think that went, huh?

Fuck you.

Fucking cunt.

The cops are coming.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Where the fuck should we go?

You’re coming with to my place.

I’m home alone.

Oh, holy shit.

Fucking hell.

- Do you have tweezers or something? - Yeah.

Here.

They’re pretty deep.

Okay. Now, sit still.

Fuck.

Why did you help me, anyway?

Looked like you needed it.

Since when did you start caring about that?

You fucking sprayed his face.

Are those roofies?

No.

Why are you taking it?

Because it’s criminal.

Where are all your soccer posters?

Weren’t you going to become a soccer pro and all that?

Yes.

Who’s that…

Freddy Hell guy, really?

Why do you ask?

He was mentioned earlier.

What the fuck is that?

A guy who’s blown his head off with a shotgun.

Looks like a peeled banana.

Or a squid upside down.

Yeah…

Let me see the next one.

Oh, fucking hell!

Where do you find this stuff?

Where do you get that stuff?

Don’t ask so much, Tommy. Let me see the next one.

Is it that Freddy guy?

What the fuck do you want, really? Buy roofies?

Fuck do I know… Maybe.

Give me that.

Oh, holy shit…

What’s up?

- I’m in “24 hours”. - What?

The newspaper?

9:34 PM:

The police respond to the news of a fight in the schoolyard at Hannestad.

When the police arrive, the youth have disappeared,

while one of the fighters is left bloody on the ground.

The young man has been hit with a crutch and is taken to the ER.

You should fucking frame it and put it on the wall.

- Decorate a little. - Yes.

Why did you hit him?

He laughed at my injured leg.

Ran around saying I was a fucking loser.

I’m not a fucking loser.

Fuck…

- I’m out. - Yeah.

Tommy?

I’m going to Hell to get roofies the day after tomorrow. Wanna join?

Okay.

Hell’s gonna like you.

English subtitles by Maja E. V. Olsen