All language subtitles for Law & Order s05e13 Rage.eng

NARRATOR:
In the criminal justice system

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups,

the police
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

(SIREN WAILING)

So, which window's
yours anyway?

All of them.

The two of you live
on four floors?

Well, Dad has a lot of clothes.

Are you sure I look okay?

You look fine.

(KEYS JINGLING)

This should give him a stroke.

Hello, guess who.

Dad?

You actually live here?
Hello.

Dad, are you home?

Oh, my God.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Wallace Holbrook. Shot in the head.
Who called it in?

His kid and her boyfriend.
Surprise road trip from college.

Can you imagine coming home
to something like this?

Where's the girl now?

In the kitchen.
She's pretty hysterical.

So, what can you tell us?

One very dead body

and one very expensive weapon.

Yeah, well, it doesn't look
like a robbery to me.

Gun between his legs like that,
I'd say he swallowed the barrel.

It's a Perazzi. Between 10 and 20 grand.
They use it to hunt grouse.

I guess
grouse are out of season.

There's no way.

Miss Holbrook,

our people went over the scene,
and they tell us that...

Look, he's my dad, isn't he?

I'm telling you, there's
no way he'd kill himself.

Do you know where your mom is?

She died when I was 12.

You know, Krista, sometimes dads
hide things from their children.

Maybe other fathers.

He closed some kind of
big deal yesterday.

Wait a minute. You saying you
talked to him yesterday before...

In the morning.

He called to talk
about his trip to Europe.

(SNIFFLING)

He was supposed to leave
on Monday.

That's why I came home.

(CRYING)

He was so excited. He hadn't
taken a vacation in two years.

There is no way
my father killed himself.

Well, Lennie,
you get Detective of the Week.

You're saying
it wasn't a suicide?

It was a murder.

And judging from digestion
of the stomach contents,

I'd say it happened
around 9:00 pm.

I'd also say
the entire scene was staged.

You can tell all that
by what he ate for lunch?

No, from the blood lividity.
Come here.

Mr. Holbrook's blood
settled in his back.

Now, if he was killed in the sitting
position in which you found him,

it would have gathered
south of the border.

This guy was stretched out for at least
30 minutes before he was propped up.

Okay, Rogers,
you're so brilliant,

how do you explain the blood
on the wall behind his head?

Well, that would be difficult if
the shot was the cause of death.

What, it wasn't?

Somebody grabbed your Mister Holbrook
from behind and snapped his neck.

The shot through the mouth,
it was just for show.

I heard this morning.
Suicide.

God. I had dinner
with him last Tuesday.

So, what is it? You want
his personal effects?

No, I need to ask you
a few questions.

Was everything
all right around here?

For Holbrook, never better.

Who would ever guess that Fixed
Income could do more than a billion?

You're saying
he made $1 billion?

No. His department
traded paper worth that much.

That boils down to about
$400 million in profit.

Holbrook's bonus
came close to 15.

Does everybody around here
make that kind of money?

No, Holbrook's department did
particularly well last year.

Hell, one of his traders,
Bud Greer, 35 years old,

took home $7 million.

How did Holbrook
spend his money?

We make it.
We don't talk about it.

Twelve years.
Nine hours a day.

I spent more time with Mr. Holbrook
than I did with my husband.

Pretty tough boss, huh?

Simon Legree, he wasn't.

But he was demanding.

Demanding enough
to make enemies?

Try everyone on this floor.

You sell door-to-door,
you wanna be liked.

You work on Wall Street,
you wanna be feared.

The more they tremble,
richer you get.

So, who around here
feared him the most?

You don't think that...

I don't know.
No way.

I mean, these kids? Yeah,
maybe they hate the old man,

but give up the zeros he puts
on their paychecks? Uh-uh.

I don't think so.

Oh, okay.
Well, yesterday,

did he have any after-work
appointments in his book?

Not that I knew about.
But he did leave early.

Canceled a meeting
with two of his traders.

(PHONES RINGING)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

26? Sure, buy 100 at 26.
Back to me.

So he canceled a meeting.
What else is new?

I'm a junior trader, it's
not like I'm high-priority.

What's that mean? You only
make half a million this year?

I said junior, not stupid.

They tack on a half mill just
to put up with Holbrook's crap.

I take it you and he
didn't party together.

I only breathed the same air as
Wallace Holbrook if I had to.

I guess you're not exactly
brokenhearted then.

Let me tell you something
about that macho creep.

He had speakers installed so he
could publicly humiliate us.

"Do you need a calculator,
Mr. Boggs?"

"You buy at 10, you sell at 8,
you lose money, Mr. Boggs."

The only guy who had
an easy ride was Bud Greer.

I have to ask you this.
Where were you last night?

On the phone with Tokyo till about 3:00 a.m.
You can check my phone records.

Yeah.

He cancels a meeting,
I don't ask questions.

But it doesn't exactly
ruin your day, either?

Hey, I knew what I was getting
into when I chose this business.

Every day, it's pull down your
jockeys and take out the yardstick.

And if you haven't noticed, I
don't win that kind of contest.

And Holbrook does?

That's why
he's got the corner office.

Last night, you didn't happen to assemble
at his place for a late-night session?

Are you kidding? Me at Holbrook's house?
He wouldn't even share a cab.

Look, I'll save you
some time, okay.

The only one of us that rates
an invite to the palace is Bud.

Bud Greer?
You know him?

Well, everybody's talking.

Why not? You do half billion in
trades, you get a seven mill bonus,

and you get invited to dinner.

Any chance you like
any of the guys you work with?

Give me a break, Detective.

There're only two kinds of men that
work on Wall Street. Standard and poor.

But I hear that peace officers
are a whole other story.

You got your yardstick handy?

Oh, I got my tape measure.

Let's go see Golden Boy.

(BABY CRYING)

Somebody's got to be pulling our chains.
You sure it wasn't East 45th?

Well, here it is. 2C.

(SIGHING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

GREER: Yeah.
Police.

What is it you want?

Are you Bud Greer?

You work at Jenkins, Clay?

You're here about Wallace.

A man that talented. It's a shame, really,
but if you can't take the heat...

Excuse me?

What it is we do for a living.

Let's just say
there's a lot of pressure.

And Holbrook
couldn't take it, huh?

Isn't that obvious?

Well, did he say anything,
give a signal?

The last couple of weeks,
his trades were off maybe 10%.

His mind was definitely elsewhere.
You could say he was depressed.

Well, we're thinking
maybe it wasn't a suicide.

So, who was it?

Which one of my fair-haired
associates pointed the finger at me?

We're talking to everybody.

Although we were told you were the only
one who socialized with the deceased.

Socialized?

Any time I spent
with Wallace was pure work.

If those other cretins would
put in half the time I did...

Look, I was in his house
once in two years.

We spent three hours in his study
mapping out trading strategies.

That was six months ago.

BRISCOE: And last night?

I was at the office
until 8:00.

"Jenkins, Clay and Company,
Trader of the Year."

Impressive.
Thank you.

You ought to think
about spending some of it.

Thank you for your advice.

But for me it's not about
money, cars or apartments.

What is it about?

Power.

By the way, with Holbrook out of the
picture, who gets the power now?

Well, that would be me,
now, wouldn't it?

There's more testosterone at
Jenkins, Clay than at Gold's Gym.

Smart money says we're walking
down the right alley.

Great. There's gotta be,
what, 300 people down there?

More like 600, counting
secretaries and staff,

but we're running all the names.
Maybe we'll get lucky.

Oh, yeah. Maybe we might as
well run the telephone book.

You got anything better?

Yeah,
as a matter of fact, I do.

I say we bring in Mr. Bud Greer.
Put him through the ringer.

600 names, Mike, and we got just
as much on every one of them.

It's weird. This guy's got more money
than God, but he lives worse than I do.

Howard Hughes never clipped his toenails.
Got any homicides we can pin on him?

I don't trust him.

We got one winner, Lennie.

A Benjamin Greer. Assault in '87.
Charges dropped.

Thanks, Gia.
Mmm-hmm.

Now I trust him less.

Check him out.

Yes. We hired Mr. Greer
for obvious reasons.

You have an affirmative
action program down here?

Not officially.
Off the record.

We've got to be
very aware of appearances.

Oh, well, do you need
any sons of Killarney?

Sorry. Greer went to the right
schools, had an impressive resume.

We put him in Fixed Income,
good place to start.

Not much profit
but not much risk, either.

We heard
he took to it pretty well.

He increased sales
10 times in six months.

And made his bankers
very happy people.

He made all of us a lot of money.
Especially Holbrook.

LOGAN: Boy, Greer wants to go to Harvard,
and they throw out the welcome mat.

Greer wants a job, they toss
him seven million bucks.

You ever think maybe he earned
it the old-fashioned way?

Yeah, but he does all the work,
Holbrook makes twice the money.

That's called capitalism.

Man, it sure would piss me off.

Hey, Greer doesn't spend the bucks he's got.
Why would he want more?

It's not about money, remember?
It's about power. Oh, look at this.

What is this? They got no respect
anymore, these meter maids.

You know, it must be hell trying to
get a cab around here late at night.

I wonder if Greer
used the company car service.

You know how many jobs
I do for Jenkins?

Look, help us out.

He's a good-looking guy,
he's black, about 35.

Oh. Mr. High and Mighty.

You remember
where you dropped him off?

East 60s. And I was glad
to get rid of him, too.

Had the Knicks-Bulls
on the radio.

Oh, I remember.
I lost a half a yard on that.

They never cover the spread.

I had 100 riding on it.

But it made too much noise
for His Honor.

He asked me to turn it down, and
I said, "Come on, my brother..."

He said, "I ain't your brother.
Shut up and drive."

(CHUCKLES)

You got the exact address?

120 East 63rd.

The Holbrook place.
Thanks.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)
Sorry, my mornings are hectic.

It seems like
your evenings are, too.

Excuse me?

Looks like you lied to us
about the other night, Bud.

I worked until 8:00.
Just like I told you.

Yeah, well, you didn't go home.

All right. Holbrook asked me to come by
to review the work of the other traders.

It's firing season.

And after that?

No one was home.
I waited 15 minutes,

then went to watch the game
at Diamond's.

Why'd you lie to us, Bud?

I didn't lie to you.

If you recall, I said I hadn't been
in Holbrook's house in six months.

A little career advice?
Nobody likes a smartass.

Look, I respected Holbrook.
He was my mentor.

And now, if you don't mind, I'd
like to get back to the floor.

Well, first, why don't you tell
us about your prior arrest.

1987 October. The 19th to be exact.
Ring any bells?

I didn't think so.

It was the day the market crashed and burned.
I was in equities then.

One of my clients thought he'd take
the correction out on my face.

He lost. Gentlemen.

Buddy?

Sure, he's here maybe three nights a week.
Mr. Club Soda.

How about Monday night?

Football game.

We were packed. Maybe he was here.
It's hard to say.

Did he hang out
with anybody in particular?

No, mostly, he's quiet.
Keeps to himself.

He used to bring a girl in from the
office, Joan something-or-other.

Blonde, about 5'6"?

And one hell of a temper.

Come again?

I haven't seen her for maybe six months.
I doubt old Bud has, either.

Last time they were here, we're talking
major blowout. She storms out.

He downs a couple
of Johnnie Blacks.

I didn't tell you
because you didn't ask.

We're asking now.

Are you still close?
No.

On paper, he's the perfect man.

Harvard, Stanford MBA.
Seven-figure income.

And off paper?

(SIGHING)
Right. Nobody knows our Bud.

Once we came out of Shun Lee,
we're walking down Lex.

Couple of homeboys
come up to us,

start up about his Zegna suit
and his white chick.

Buddy pops his cork.
Slams the guy against a wall.

So, he was protecting
his lady's honor.

Who're you kidding?

The only honor Bud ever
protected was his own.

Did he get violent often?

You don't think that...

I don't know, but we're
checking on everybody.

Holbrook was his idol.

Hell, Ben... Bud Greer wanted
to be Wallace Holbrook.

So, what happened
between you two?

(SIGHING)

I got tired of hearing about
Nietzsche and the Ubermensch.

(PHONE BUZZING)

Excuse me.

Yeah. Close it for a buck and a half.
Zegna suits?

They go for two grand a pop.
I really don't give a damn.

All I know is, you blow somebody away
with a shotgun, blood's gonna splatter.

And he did lie about
being at the crime scene.

Could be enough for a warrant.

(POLICE RADIO CHATTERING)

I lived better than this
when I wasn't working.

LOGAN: Guy doesn't
even have cable.

We ought to hock one of these
and take a vacation.

There's nothing here. Maybe somebody
at the dump got real lucky.

Hey, take a look at this.

It's a memo to Mr. Holbrook
from Accounting.

"Per your request, enclosed please find
a record of all Mr. Greer's trades

"over the past two years."
So?

It's dated
two days before the murder.

Your Mr. Greer's been a very busy boy.
Added verve to an otherwise dull business.

How's that?
Greer's trades aren't kosher.

We're talking about
phantom trading here.

Oh, take it easy, Kaplan.

I have trouble
with my checkbook.

Okay, look, Mike.

Let's pretend you're Greer.

You know Lennie wants an apple
three months from now.

You also know he'll pay you
three bucks for it.

Now, I got more apples
than I know what to do with,

so I'm willing to unload
this one to you today

for the bargain
basement price of $1.

So I buy it from you, sell it to him
in 90 days and pocket two bucks.

Exactly. Now everywhere else
on the planet,

you record your profit
when you receive the cash.

But Jenkins, Clay's accounting system...
It's a little new wave.

They record a $2 profit today, when
you buy it, not when you sell it.

Even though I don't have to cough
up the dough for three months?

That's right.

Only under Greer's scheme,
you don't really exist.

Most of his buyers
are fictitious.

So when the closing day rolls around, he
just pushes it back a couple of months.

And the profit's
already on the books.

And he walks away with a bonus based on
money that the firm will never collect.

What's that?

You took the Malcolm Forbes Home Study
in High Finance in your spare time?

Not exactly. We took a crash
course in bogus trades.

I'm sorry. You lost me.

Well, let me draw you
a map, Bud.

We've been through your files.

You've been blowing smoke up your
company's ass for two years,

taking bonuses you didn't earn.

And Holbrook found out.

So I stuck
a rifle in his mouth?

It's a lot easier then giving
back a $7 million bonus.

I earned that money.

I worked harder and I'm smarter than
all the other kids on the block.

Well, you got your $2,000 suits,
and you got your hotshot degrees.

But from where I'm standing,

you're no better than some punk
who holds up a 7-Eleven store

then blows away the cashier
to cover his tracks.

I graduated summa cum laude
from Harvard.

Magna from Stanford Business.

I have 17 traders
working for me.

And I've booked almost $1 billion
in trades in the last two years.

Not only am I better than
your punk at the 7-Eleven,

I'm also a hell of a lot better
than you Detective Logan.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

I wouldn't mind
smacking him in the mouth.

I'm thinking you'll get your chance.
Metaphorically, that is.

It appears Mr. Greer washed up
in Holbrook's bathroom.

We've got a partial print
on the sink.

Should have stuck to
the convenience stores, Bud.

Do your thing, Lennie.

Benjamin Greer, you're under arrest
for the murder of Wallace Holbrook.

You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you do say can and will be used

against you in a court of law.

$1 million bail, Jack? Don't you
think that's just a bit excessive?

I saw the pictures from the crime
scene, he should count his blessings.

Whatever. It's all gonna be back
in his money market soon enough.

I'm not talking deal, David.

Why in the world would I deal?

I didn't do anything.

We can put you at the scene
at the time of the murder.

We have a motive. No, you
think you have a motive.

The deceased was about to pull
the plug on $1 billion scam.

You don't have to
be a genius...

But you do to get it admitted.

In seizing the financial records
from Mr. Greer's apartment,

the police clearly violated my
client's Fourth Amendment rights.

I'll see you in court, Jack.

The Fourth Amendment requires
that a search warrant

contain a particular description
of the items to be seized.

The warrant in question
describes bloody clothes.

There's no mention
of financial records.

Courts have consistently upheld
seizure of non-particularized items

when they were located in the plain
view of the police officers.

Well, unless detectives Briscoe and
Logan are from the planet Krypton,

the inside of a desk drawer
is hardly in plain view.

The warrant in this case specified
"clothes as well as any other items"

"that tend to establish
the elements of the crime."

The Supreme Court in Anderson held
that such language was sufficient

for seizure of property
not itemized on the warrant.

The financial records seized by
the police relate only to motive.

Since when is motive
an element of the crime?

Mr. Solomon is correct,
the police crossed the line.

The financial documents
are excluded.

Yeah, well, I tell you, someone
ought to give our detectives

a crash course in Fourth Amendment
search-and-seizure law.

Maybe they took
some liberties, Adam.

They were investigating
a brutal homicide.

Nine out often defense attorneys
wouldn't have even noticed.

Yeah, well, this one did.

Without motive, you couldn't
convince a jury water's wet.

But if we can establish

that we would have inevitably
discovered the phantom trade...

And what psychic you planning
to call as your first witness?

You had no idea these trades
motivated the murder.

We're charging someone
with murder, right?

We would've been remiss if we weren't
prepared to challenge his credibility.

I've sat outside his office
for two years,

answering his phone
and typing his memos.

Yeah, he's wound tight,
but murder, no way.

He murdered Wallace Holbrook,
Miss Cooley.

You've got to put your
personal feelings aside.

My personal feelings
are none of your business.

That's my business.

Bud Greer did it. I don't think
he deserves your loyalty.

What do you want?

Is he close to anyone
at the firm?

Top moneymaker, you'd think they'd
hoist him on their shoulders.

Are you saying he's resented?

A year ago, I made the mistake
of wearing jeans to work.

Greer calls me in his office,

says,
"This isn't Lennox Avenue."

"If you want to be a homey,
find yourself another job."

He resented you
because you're black?

You answer his phone. He must
get some personal phone calls.

Maybe once a month
his dad calls.

Most times,
Bud leaves him on hold.

Thank you.

Ben worked for me
when he was in high school.

A customer would come in for some nails,
Ben would sell him a power drill.

He's come a long way
from selling nails.

Selling is selling.

And look, Miss Kincaid.

The one thing I taught him is that
nobody's gonna hand you anything.

We're just as good as anybody. If you
want something, you work for it.

No welfare in this house.

It appears he's reconsidered.

Look, let me tell you
something about my son.

When he applied to Harvard, he wouldn't
check off the box that said he was black,

even though his guidance counselor told
him that it would make him a shoo-in.

No, if he was going to get in, it was
going to be because of what he did,

not who he was.
He made me proud.

Now, a kid like that doesn't steal.
He doesn't cheat.

He certainly doesn't kill. You
talk to anybody who knows him.

Well, if you can help me,
that's what I'd like to do.

There's a kid named Price.
Kenneth.

He's a doctor. Ben's known
him for a long time.

Yeah, sure, Bud and I grew up
together in Jamaica, Queens.

Do you stay in touch?

Well, we have dinner every couple of months.
Phone call every now and then.

Does he ever discuss business?

What he does for a living
bores me.

Anyway, I doubt I'd
understand it even if we did.

So, what do you talk about?

Well, a favorite topic
is the old neighborhood.

Specifically, about going back and
rubbing it in all of their faces.

You know, Revenge of the Nerds.

It sounds like Bud
didn't have a lot of friends.

You're looking at him.

In school, the white kids beat him up
because he was smarter then they were.

And black kids beat him up because
he was hanging out with me.

Looks like things don't change.

Well, I don't think
race is relevant here.

Aren't you naive.

His father said Bud would never make an
issue out of the fact that he was black.

Of course he wouldn't.

It would give credibility to the
great white majority out there

who think
that blacks are inferior.

And by separating himself from the rest
of his race, he's saying they're right.

You don't get it.
In his head, he's not black.

He's just a guy who happens to be
smarter than 99% of the population.

Well, I guess
he wasn't smart enough.

I've known him for 30 years, Miss Kincaid.
He didn't kill anybody.

This is the first
real success he's enjoyed.

Why don't you
just leave him alone?

From his resume, we didn't
even know what color he was.

But when he showed up?

Well, number eight
at Stanford business school,

we'd have hired him
if he was green.

So, how'd he work out?
C+.

We gave him every opportunity,
but he just didn't produce.

A year in Equities. Nothing. And
that was during the bull market.

So we moved him over to Fixed Income Paper.
A lot less pressure.

And there was no improvement?
Minimal.

I couldn't understand it then
and I still can't.

It was as if he had made it to
the top of the mountain and felt

he didn't have to do anything
to stay there.

So you fired him?

We're in business to make money.
We gave him five years.

We figured that was long enough
to avoid any potential lawsuits.

But you already excluded the files
found in Greer's apartment.

Because of the illegal search.

The State can now prove that it would have
inevitably discovered the same evidence.

Why, because he was
fired from his first job?

Because he was
a less-than-competent trader.

Enlighten me, Mr. McCoy.

Overnight, Mr. Greer went from
showing a minimal profit, at best,

to setting
world records in profits.

Well, he saw the light.
He's a late bloomer.

What does that have to do
with the murder trial?

I wouldn't have known. But you can bet the
ranch I would have wanted to find out.

So would I.

Surely our investigators would have
looked into Mr. Greer's trading practices

and evidence of his phantom trading
would have inevitably been discovered.

I agree. The financial records previously
excluded can now be considered by a jury.

He was at the scene,
we've got his fingerprints.

And with the phantom trades, we've got motive.
It's a hat-trick, David.

No, I still
don't see motive, Jack.

He was ripping off the company.

Holbrook found out.

Greer increased profits
by 10 times.

It's absurd to think that Holbrook
took two years to catch on to him...

Maybe he was slow.

And maybe he was greedy.

You know, he made $15 million
because of my client.

I doubt very much he was going to turn him in.
Jury might buy that.

But I don't.
Well...

If you're trying to talk deal,
I'm not listening.

Suit yourself. Come here.
I want you to meet somebody.

It's fine.
We'll counterclaim. Right.

Jerome Bryant.
Yes, Mr. McCoy.

Your equal protection arguments in front
of the Supreme Court are classic.

Thank you.

And I'm more than pleased to tell you
that I've been retained by Bud Greer

to join his defense team.

This is a criminal case.

Unfortunately, Mr. McCoy,

when a black man seeks justice
in the white judicial system,

his civil rights
are usually violated.

In the last 10 years, Bryant has found
racial implications in everything

from house closings
to securities transactions.

Well, he's gonna have to do
one hell of a magic act here.

I'm not so sure about that.

Notwithstanding Jerome Bryant's
proclamations from the mount,

the entire judicial system
is not racist.

Mike Tyson, Michael Jackson,
Jo..J. Simpson.

This won't be the first time
that the State has been accused

of trying to bring down
a high-profile black man.

And in this case,
it's all nonsense.

Yes, if trials
were about facts.

This is about convicting
one man of homicide.

Don't you wish...

Got news for you.

If enough people think it's about
racism, it's about racism.

I'm not dealing with the universal
problems of society, Adam.

Just one Class A felony.

Well, we may not have the opportunity.
Bryant's made a motion to dismiss.

It's been an exercise in racism
from the get-go, Your Honor.

The only reason the police focused
their investigation on my client

is because he's black.

The fact that he's guilty may
have had something to do with it.

Well, there were
hundreds of other suspects.

Nobody bothered to look
into their closets.

I hope you're not suggesting
that I dismiss the case

because the police
did a good job.

No, Judge, but I am saying
this entire investigation,

beginning with the search
of my client's apartment,

was motivated by racial bias
and is therefore illegal.

In fact, it's clear
this search warrant

would have never
been signed in the first place

if the suspect weren't black.

In Detective Logan's affidavit
in support of the warrant,

he described the suspect as, and I
quote, "a 35-year-old black man."

That's absurd. The affidavits were
sufficient without that description.

Then why did your detectives
feel it necessary to include it?

That's a good question.

Mr. Bryant, on Tuesday morning you
can present evidence of racial bias

in the search and/or arrest
of Mr. Greer.

And if he's successful?

I'll grant his motion
to dismiss.

And I suggest the police department
hire a damn good civil attorney.

Two other traders told us the
defendant was close to the deceased

so we thought it was expedient
that we talk to him ourselves.

What were the exact words spoken by these
other traders that led you to consider

Mr. Greer a suspect
in the murder?

Actually, we were just
following procedure.

So, prior to interviewing Mr. Greer,
he was not, in fact, a suspect?

LOGAN: That is correct.

Now, during
the initial interview,

what did Mr. Greer do or say
to change your opinion?

During the initial interview
there was nothing specific.

There were no eyewitnesses
to this murder, Detective.

Mr. Greer neither did nor said
anything to make you suspicious,

yet still you focused
your investigation on him.

He lied to us.
He had a criminal record.

He was arrested.
The charges were dropped.

Yes, but he was the only one...

Mr. Greer
was the only black man

who worked for Mr. Holbrook.
Isn't that correct?

As far as I know.

So you figured if you dig deep
enough, you gonna find something.

That's ridiculous.

Oh, you think
a man's civil rights

are ridiculous?
Objection.

Withdrawn. No more questions.

Did you check the criminal records of the
other traders at Jenkins, Clay as well?

Yes, I did a search of everyone
in Mr. Holbrook's department.

And as I tried to say before, Mr. Greer
was the only one with a previous arrest.

Thank you.

CALLAHAN: Mr. Bryant?

No more witnesses.

Then I'm afraid you haven't come
close to meeting your burden.

Motion to dismiss is denied.

Specious motions like that, you're
lucky your client makes seven figures.

Actually, I thought His Honor would
have cut me off long before he did.

I was just setting the stage
for the trial.

You still plan
to make race an issue?

I plan on making it
the only issue.

It's our notice to call an expert witness.
Dr. Bettina Osgood.

You're not saying that
Greer is insane?

After the way Jenkins, Clay treated
him, I'm saying he was justified.

But I'll live with insanity.

A lifetime of suffering the
indignities of a racist society,

eventually
the kettle boils over.

The experts call it black rage.

And we both know it's crap.

Oh, is it?
Think about it, Mr. McCoy.

If you wanted, you could spend
your entire life without having

any significant contact
with a black man.

First, that notion is absurd.

Second,
it's entirely irrelevant.

To you, maybe,
because you have an option.

But if Mr. Greer didn't want
to mix with the white man,

he would have to remain in
Harlem or Bedford-Stuyvesant

or South Central Los Angeles. Like it or not,
this country is still one big plantation.

And that makes it all right
for him to commit murder?

No. But a jury
might consider it an excuse.

I want my expert
to examine him.

Hell, you can strip-search him for
all the good it's gonna do you.

The cream rises to the top,
it's as simple as that.

And the cream
is traditionally white.

They make the rules.
They set the standards.

So you found it necessary
to emulate them.

That's a bit of a simplification,
Doctor, don't you think?

Why don't you explain it to me?

I got into Harvard, everyone in the class
assumed it was because I was black.

I got a job on Wall Street, people
thought I was a window dressing.

Well, that's simply a by-product
of affirmative action.

In time it will disappear.

Affirmative action!

That's Jim Crow dressed up
in 20th-century liberalism.

The black man's inferior so
we've got to help him survive.

He's incompetent
so we'll give him a free ride.

It's okay if he's lazy and
ill-prepared, we'll take care of him.

You want the short course in the
history of race relations in America?

It all starts with white men

trying to protect white women
from the big bad black man.

It was the prime argument
in favor of segregation.

And it's what made lynching
an honorable diversion.

We've come a long way
since then.

Don't kid yourself, Doctor.
People are still scared.

And fear begets hate.

And hate is the one common ground
between black and white society.

So that justifies your hatred
of white society?

No, it justifies
my contempt for both.

I've examined your client,
Mr. Bryant,

and I can't imagine
any legitimate psychiatrist

testifying that he was insane.

Isn't this nice, three white folks
sitting around judging a black man.

His whole life he's been separating
himself from the black community,

and as soon as it suits him he
raises a gloved fist over his head.

I know all about you,
Mr. Greer. You're a con man.

First you conned Wall Street and now
you're trying to con Court Street.

We'll just have to see what a
jury thinks about that, won't we?

Let's go, Bud.

Well, I can see why he wasn't
well-liked at the firm.

You've never had to walk
in his shoes.

You mean his Guccis.

The guy is filled
with greed and ambition.

Which goes a long way on
Wall Street if you're white.

Greer's had white values
shoved down his throat.

He had to accept them to feel successful.
It makes for a lot of self-loathing.

Oh, that's great.
What?

(SIGHING)

I still don't like Greer. Only now
I've gotta feel guilty about it.

Bud Greer didn't want
to take over the department.

He wanted to be head
of the whole firm.

Was that a realistic ambition?

With the profits he was showing,
it might have happened eventually.

JACK:
How long is eventually?

The firm works
on strict seniority.

He wasn't going anywhere until
Wallace Holbrook retired.

Or died?

Or died.

Miss Stillman, please explain to the
court what is meant by Casual Day.

It was a plan
instituted by Mr. Holbrook.

Fridays every summer,
traders weren't required

to dress in their normal
business clothes.

Did Mr. Greer take advantage
of this dispensation?

Well, that became a big joke
around the firm.

The one time
he came in wearing khakis,

a security guard
thought he was a busboy

and made him enter the
cafeteria through the kitchen.

And how did
Mr. Greer react?

He read the guard the riot act,
had him fired that afternoon.

BRYANT:
What about his coworkers?

They left dirty dishes on his
desk when he wasn't there.

COOKE: In the years before
Mr. Greer joined the firm,

the largest bonus received by
Mr. Holbrook was $1.2 million.

Last year, it was $15 million.

And he didn't think that this
was cause for suspicion?

It was cause for celebration.

Look, Holbrook was not the
best supervisor at the firm,

and maybe he should've looked a little
closer at some of Greer's transactions.

But if you're asking me if I think
Holbrook would have accepted a bonus

based on ill-gotten gains, my
answer is an unqualified no.

Thank you.

How many times have you
played golf with Mr. Greer?

I can't say that I've ever
had the pleasure.

How many times did you and
Mr. Greer eat lunch together?

I run an investment bank,
sir. I'm very busy.

But last week

you had lunch
with Miss Stillman,

Mr. Boggs, Mr. James,

Ms. Appel, Mr. DeSoto.

They're all traders
in your firm, aren't they?

I see what you're getting at.

They're all Caucasian traders,
isn't that right?

Yes, they are.

Now tell me, Mr. Cooke,

why weren't you too busy
to break bread with them,

but you couldn't squeeze out
45 minutes

for a man who brought over
$1 billion into your firm?

I didn't like him, sir.
He's smug. He's arrogant.

And he's black.

The black man in America
is estranged from society.

He's been taught in school that he's
equal yet he cannot help but realize

that he's different.

BRYANT: And what is the source
of those feelings, Doctor?

History. First selling
the black man into bondage,

then America prospering on
the backs of black laborers,

and then a changing technology
usurping the need for physical labor.

It often leads to feelings
of uselessness and isolation,

which in turn leads to self-hatred.
Unfortunately, it's very common.

And how does this
self-hatred show itself?

Well, eventually it's redirected
outward toward their tormentors.

Some individuals can't help but lash
out at the symbols of their torment.

In this case, Wallace Holbrook?

That's correct.

Thank you.

What about
Holocaust survivors, Doctor?

Or Cambodian refugees?
Or Soviet dissidents?

They were persecuted. Are they also
entitled to kill their bosses?

You can't equate the history
of blacks in America

with that of the Jews
or Cambodians or Soviets.

They weren't brought here in chains.
Their children weren't sold.

I see. So that makes black men less
capable of exercising self-control.

That is the very attitude that
feeds the racism in this country.

Yes, Doctor.

And it's you who are giving
all the bigots in this country

the justification
for their fear and hatred.

No one ever expected me
to show a profit.

They just wanted my picture
in their annual reports.

What happened when you
did in fact make money?

The consensus was that I was the
luckiest guy on the trading floor.

It was inconceivable to them that
I could actually play their game

and beat them at it.

The night of the murder, did you have
a conversation with Wallace Holbrook?

Yes.

He had received a memo from
Accounting detailing all of my trades

over the past two years.

He was laughing at me.

He said he knew that a nigger
couldn't do it honestly.

And what did you do?

I don't remember. I just remember
him lying on the floor dead.

Sir, what would have happened
if Wallace Holbrook

had exposed
your phantom trades?

I would have had to return
my bonus money.

$10 million.

The money is irrelevant.

I left it in their bank account.
I never spent a penny of it.

You weren't concerned
about larceny charges?

There was
little chance of that.

They wouldn't want their shareholders
to find out how easy it was

to manipulate the system.

I would have had to
leave the firm, period.

I suspect being fired
would have been humiliating.

Do you know
what Wallace said to me?

He said that I should go back
to the jungle

and steal coconuts
from monkeys.

That is humiliating,
Mr. McCoy.

Hell of a performance.

Yeah, he has the right audience.
Eight black jurors.

I give them more credit
than that.

I mean, just because Bryant condescends
to them, doesn't mean we have to.

Nobody's condescending here,
young lady.

Wait a minute.

You're not saying there's any
validity to this black rage defense?

No, I'm saying that intellectually
it's easy to dismiss.

Emotionally, Ben Greer
may have struck a major chord

with a lot of the jurors.

So let me get this straight.

The only way it's possible for a black
man accused of killing a white man

to get a fair trial
is to have an all-white jury?

I'll call the Senate. We need
a constitutional amendment.

I don't like your implications.
I don't need the sarcasm.

Cut a deal. Put an end to it.

If we cut a deal, we'll be saying
to anybody who has an ax to grind

that they've got a license
to kill at random.

No, we're saying
we want murderers behind bars.

So what are we talking about,
Jack?

Man one.
He does the max.

You've got to be kidding.

He's admitted
he killed Holbrook.

It's a gift.
A gift?

A gift would be
erasing 200 years of history.

You're starting to believe
your client's press.

GREER:
You're lucky, Mr. McCoy.

In your life, it doesn't matter
that we live in a racist country.

Really?

Yes, really.

You play at being civilized, colorblind.
But it's all a fraud.

My life is the quintessential
case in point.

No one owes you an apology.

I'm not looking for one. And I'm
not looking for a deal, either.

You know what? I'm glad.

No, you should be scared.

You see, you've always
crossed the street

every time a couple of hip-hopping
ghetto boys walk toward you

but now,

every time a nigger in a $2,000
suit sits next to you at lunch,

you'll clench your fists a little tighter,
breathe just a little bit deeper.

If nothing else, now the world
knows that he's just as angry

and just as likely to explode.

You don't scare me, Mr. Greer.
But you do disgust me.

You're nothing but a thief and a
murderer hiding behind your race.

On the sole count of the indictment,
Murder in the Second Degree,

how do you find?

We find the defendant,
Benjamin Greer, guilty.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

The Times says
Greer's going to appeal.

He'll have to find
a mistake of law first.

Well, he's hired three more
attorneys to help him.

Jack, that man
was here before we were.

You getting in or what?

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