All language subtitles for Night.Court.2023.S03E04.WEB

-Your Honor,
the defendant is charged

with inciting a riot
during a Christmas concert

at the Central Park
Bird Sanctuary.

-Your Honor,
my client was merely trying

to put on a holiday concert

where the birds
could tweet along

or land on your shoulder

like we've been promised
by cartoons.

-Instead, the music turned
our feathered friends

into killing machines.

I would show you the photos,
but -- hoo! --

you would never
eat chicken again.

-According to this report,

there are injuries
to 12 drummers drumming,

11 pipers...piping?

10 lords a-leaping.

-♪ Nine ladies dancing ♪

-♪ Eight maids a-milking ♪

-They wrecked the latte bar.

-♪ Seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying ♪

-♪ I want to drink ♪

-♪ Four calling birds,
three French hens ♪

♪ Two turtle doves ♪

-Dan?

-And a partridge --

-Objection! Scrooge.

-Don't hide that baritone

under a bunch of bah humbug,
Counselor.

-♪ And a partridge
with a broke beak ♪

-Merry Christmas to all.

And to you, $1,000 fine.

-Just a little something
to show my appreciation

at this special time.
-Aw!

-Mine's empty.
-Mine, too.

Unless...

did you blow a kiss in here,
you scoundrel?

-No, it's not my fault

that the city outlawed
gift giving

between municipal workers.

Fingers crossed
next year they ban small talk,

so I'll never have to answer
"Sup, big man?" again.

-Sup, big man?

-Don't think I forgot
my favorite judge.

-I know it's empty.

But don't worry.

Even without gifts,
we're still gonna do

something special
for the holidays.

I signed us up
for a Christmas escape room.

-We got the invitation.

Rather unsettling
that the only two RSVP options

were "yes" and "hell yes."

-It's Titanic themed.
The only other option was

Escape from Santa's Workshop,
but I did that one,

and I got in trouble
for not trying to escape.

-Wait. We have to be there
in three hours?

-No way!

I mean, if Julianne was here,
maybe.

But she's at her
anger-management group's

Christmas dinner.

None of the food
requires knives.

With Murray filling in,
you might as well cancel.

I mean, it takes him two hours

just to do
his pre-trial warmups.

-I prosecute with every inch
of my body.

I will be damned
if I'm gonna pull a muscle

and let A.I. take my job.

-Hey! New coat,
these are my friends.

Friends, this is my new coat.

-Where was this energy when
I introduced you to my new hat?

-The girls got this for me
as an early Christmas gift.

All I had to do was pay for it,
wrap it,

and then pretend to like
the stuff they actually got me.

-Wyatt, just so you know,
we need to move fast tonight.

-Hold up. Did you just put
your coat under mine?

-Did I?

I was listening to the judge
talk about moving fast tonight.

-It's just
a strange thing to do,

given there are a number
of open hooks.

-This is the opposite
of moving fast.

-You know what?
It is a bit odd.

Well, even if
all the hooks were full,

you would go on top of a coat
that was already there.

Nobody goes under
a pre-existing coat.

-That's what I'm saying.
There's a lot to unpack here.

-No, no, no,
there's nothing to unpack.

Our bags are already
on the Titanic. Let's go.

-The judge is right.
Time is of the essence.

We need to get in there
and -- aah!

Aah! See this?

This is why I need to stretch.

-Sir, you can't go around
tearing down inflatable Santas

because you feel
they draw attention away

from the birth
of your Lord and Savior.

-December 25th is
Jimmy Buffett's birthday,

and you all have lost your way.

Jimmy saves.

Jimmy saves!

-Well, it's 5:00 somewhere,
but not where you're going.

One night in jail and $50 fine.

-I gotta hand it to you
Parrotheads.

Hawaiian shirts don't look
good on anybody,

but you're sticking with it.

-All right. We are one case away
from boarding the Titanic.

I hear the first puzzle

is actually rearranging
the deck chairs.

-Last up -- the State versus
Fred Norton.

The defendant is charged
with trespassing

after he refused
to leave a Christmas party.

-I couldn't leave before those
fine people heard all about

the suckiest vacuum cleaner
money can buy,

or my name isn't...Sam Snead.

-But that isn't your name.

According
to your driver's license,

you're Fred Norton,
and you're not a salesman.

You're an actor.

And it says here you're
really willing to do nudity.

-The defendant was hired to run
a murder-mystery holiday party

and wouldn't break character,

even after it was made clear
everyone wanted it to be over.

-Wanting it to be over
is implied when

you said "murder-mystery party."

-Hey, murder-mystery parties
are not on trial.

If so, I'd have to recuse myself
because I love them.

Everyone gets dressed up,
the lights go out,

there's a dead body,

and you have to figure out
who did it

and why my date
disappeared into a bedroom

with a different person.

-I've got the perfect way
to keep your man happy

this Christmas --
the Staininator 3000!

Would you care for
a demonstration, ma'am?

-"Ma'am"?

This because somebody said
I was eating yogurt earlier?

-Mr. Norton,
it would really help your cause

if you would just
speak as yourself.

This is a court of law,
not a murder-mystery dinner --

- Oh, no!

Flobert's dead!

Why?!

Take me instead!

No, wait.

Take Dan!

- Sorry.

Darkness instantly
puts me to sleep.

I am very dangerous
driving through tunnels.

-Judge, your chair.

- "You're next.
Ho ho ho."

-Aw.
Your first death threat.

-No one move. You're gonna
want to remember this.

I'll get a camera!

-Detective Kratz, NYPD.
How can I help you?

Besides finding the bastard
that did this?

-It might be easier
if you took your sunglasses off.

After all, it is night,
and we are inside.

-Don't tell me how to do my --

Oh, yeah, that's much better.
Thank you.

-Detective, it's gotta be
the murder-mystery guy.

I mean, you can't pretend
to die 52 weeks a year

and not end up a little weird.

-Well, I'm sorry, but we take
all threats seriously.

There's something
about this time of year

that brings out the worst
in people.

You know,
my wife left me on Christmas.

This Christmas.

I found the divorce papers
in my stocking.

That's what I get for peeking!

-Speaking of Christmas,
some of us have plans.

Is there any way we can
fast-track this investigation,

since, again,
we know who did it?

-We are talking about
your safety here.

Detective, you take as much time
as you want,

even if it means
we miss the thing

that only Abby wanted to do.

-Don't listen to him.
He just hates fun.

-I don't --
-If this were a Christmas movie,

there'd be a pile of angels just
trying to jumpstart his heart.

-Well, unfortunately,
you're all stuck here

until Vacuum Guy cooperates.

Although, he is a good salesman.

I almost bought one for my wife.

Ex-wife.

Now excuse me.
I have to go deal with

some police feelings
in the bathroom.

-This is why
men shouldn't be cops.

-Excuse me, Wyatt.

I just need a place
to put my folder.

Oh, I just put my folder
under yours.

What a weird thing to do.

I should probably
explain myself.

-Fine, Gurgs.

Truth is, I did put my coat
under yours on purpose.

I didn't want it to get stolen.

-Oh, so you'd be fine
if my coat got stolen.

-Fine's the wrong word.

Shocked.
Uh, I would be shocked

if it got stolen.

That's why it's
the perfect cover for my coat.

-Oh! Oh, well, my coat

doesn't want to be
your coat's coat!

-Enough with the coats.

Whatever happened
with the folder --

now, that was interesting.

-All right, guys, if we could
just link Fred to this crime,

we can escape this room and
head to a warehouse in Brooklyn

that used to be
an underground dance club,

but now is a place
we can get into.

-I'm not going anywhere
with that jacket ass.

-I told you she was a hothead.

Yeah, she's that, too.

-What your coat say about me?

Tell...your coat

to say it to my face!

-People! People, please.

It's Jimmy Buffett's birthday.
Show some respect.

-Abby, just face it.

You're shipwreck's
a train wreck.

We're never making it
to the escape room.

-Dan, I know you don't have
the holiday spirit,

but we all fake it sometimes.

News flash -- we don't need
another story about Louisiana.

We know where it is.

If it was that interesting,
we'd go.

If I'm the only one
who cares about this,

I'll just get us out of here,

go to that Titanic escape room
alone,

and drown on Christmas
all by myself!

Move it, big man!

So has he confessed yet?

'Cause I'm about
to miss my boat.

-Talking to this guy's
a waste of time.

He suffers from what
we on the force call a 55-20 --

broken brain.

He's totally lost touch
with reality.

He's stuck in whatever murder
mystery he was playing in.

-Speaking of 55-20,

this baby comes in
55 different colors

and has 20 different
attachments.

That's 4,200 different ways
of having fun!

-You see what I'm dealing with?

I gotta go take a walk.

You know, my wife and I
used to take walks.

They've got codes
for broken brains,

but not broken hearts.

-You just lost your good cop.

Now you're staring
at a lady who,

for the first time in her life,
is not excited about Christmas.

Tomorrow,
I'm gonna take a bus upstate,

where I'm gonna spend my day
setting up my mom's

digital frame
just so she can remind me

that I haven't given her
any grandkids to put in it.

Then I don't have anyone
to kiss under the mistletoe

because my boyfriend's mom
needed a wingman

for her singles cruise.

You not confessing
is keeping me from the one thing

I was looking forward to.

So I'm gonna give you
one last chance.

Come clean, bucko!

-Did someone say clean?

-Oh, my God.
Just come back to reality

so I can get
on the damn Titanic.

-Whoa! Abby. Whoa.

You don't want to shake him.

What you want to do
is you want to lift...

-Oh!
-...and shake like this!

-Aw! You're helping.

-Yeah, well, Christmas brings
out the best in me!

-Ooh!

Oh! Save some
for the wedding night,

my little Georgia peach.

-It was yogurt for men!
John Stamos eats it!

-Why does he keep calling you
a woman?

-You can't see
the beautiful Southern belle

right before your eyes?

What kind of fortune teller
are you?

-Fortune teller? Southern be--

Dan! Dan! Dan.
-Hmm?

-He thinks we're characters
in his murder-mystery game.

We gotta play along.
Just, um...

buy a vacuum, buy a vacuum.

And remember, you have boobs.

My house...

is just in shambles.

I mean,
I-I don't know what to do

since my husband, Ormel, died.

-Well, I am sorry for your loss,
but I'm happy for my gain.

Enchanté.
-Mm.

Would you be a doll
and put me down

for one of them
little dirt suckers?

Oh, and if you'd like to see,
uh, Louisiana,

it's beautiful this time
of the year.

-Well, I'll put you down
for a vacuum,

and I'll pick you up for a date.

Let me get
the paperwork started.

-Dan, you did it.
You played along,

and you're gonna get a clue.

-Well, I don't have
any invoices,

but you can just write
your information here

on my invitation to this party.

Or you can always whisper it
in my ear.

I have a photographic memory.

Click, click.

-I'll write it down.

What is this?
"You're cordially invited

to Colonel Strangleton's
Malibu estate."

Do you think this is a clue?

-Yeah, yeah, this is the game.

We go to this party,
and then we'll get answers.

-Why are you smiling?

Oh, my God, there's gonna be
costumes, aren't there?

-Okay, so the game
that Fred is stuck in

is called "Murder in Malibu."

We're now all guests at
an oil tycoon's Christmas party.

-Abby, I can't hear you.
Speak up!

-Dan, this all would be
a lot easier to explain

if you would just come
into the room.

-This is ridiculous.

Woman in my station --

this parasol is
dramaturgical incorrect!

-I'm just remembering
how awful it was

seeing "Hamilton"
with you.

Flobert,
you're a climate scientist.

How you feeling?
-Bad.

I've been doing some research
to prepare.

Did you know we're losing
the bees?

Without bees, who are the birds
gonna have sex with?

-I'm sorry.
If I'm the oilman,

why would I invite this guy
to my party?

-Because none of this
makes sense!

It's "Murder in Malibu."

I'm a Southern belle.
You're an oil tycoon.

She's a fortune teller
named Seymore Tomorrow,

and he is apparently a climate
scientist from the future!

-Without the bees,
there is no future.

-It is a murder-mystery game.
It's not about making sense.

It's about dressing up
with your friends in costume

so you can watch
one of them die!

-Just so you know, for now,

this costume includes
this cool jacket.

I don't want to hang it up

until there's a basic coat
to cover it.

-You'll be waiting a long time.

What do you
think about this coat, babydoll?

-Great. Our showgirl's here,

and she's escalated
the coat conflict.

Can we just focus on the game?

Our guest of honor is arriving.

-Well, finally, a room full
of guests and their wallets!

While we're waiting
to have dinner,

would anyone like
to see a demonstration

of the Staininator 3000?

It cleans up nice,
kinda like you, missy.

-He touches me,
I'm suing the city.

-All right, Colonel Strangleton,
as our host,

would you like
to get us started?

-His name is Strangleton,
but he gets shot.

This was written
by a room full of monkeys!

- Welcome to
a home built on black gold.

I really think
my character would be eating

a popsicle right now.

-Why don't you take
your coat off?

Oh, right, you won't,
because deep down,

you know your coat
should be my coat's coat.

That's a damn lie.

-Enough. If you won't play
your roles,

I'll just do it for you.

As I gaze into the future,

I see that the showgirl is

not in love with the oil tycoon.

She's in love with his money,
a gold digger.

Well, I never.

I don't need to marry
for money, see?

My real last name is Amtrak.

My daddy owns the railroad.
Choo-choo, baby.

-Ooh! I got train money.

If you're hellbent on
drilling Mother Earth,

then I'm hellbent
on drilling you full of lead!

Don't you
dare point a gun at my fiancée.

She's a real man.

Don't marry her. Marry me.

I've been in love with you
ever since that torrid night

under the magnolias.

Our dirty little secret isn't
the only thing I'm carrying.

I'm also carrying
your bastard child!

-Wow. That was an insult
to story logic

and to regional
Southern dialects.

- Shh, shh, shh.
We're almost finished.

So the lights go out,

and when they come back on,

the showgirl's dead,

we all know
the scorned lover did it.

we're finished, and Fred is...

-Dying.

-The vacuum salesman's not
supposed to get murdered.

-Ew. That's really in there.

-He's dead.

- Oh, God.

I did that, didn't I?!

Come on, it's Christmas.
Help me hide the body.

-Detective Kratz, what do we do?

Do we have to lock down
the building?

-Right. Yeah, we should, um,

call the chief
or, uh, the commish, or, uh...

Ah! I'm not a cop.
I'm an actor.

Not even a good one.

This badge is chocolate.

I'm a part of his
murder-mystery troupe.

We were hired
to run a game here,

but no one was supposed to die!

-What do you mean,
you were hired to run a game?

Who hired you?

-It doesn't matter
who hired him.

There's a killer loose
in the building.

-Don't worry. I won't let
anything happen to you.

-Thanks, Wyatt.
-I was talking to my coat.

-Everybody, hands up!
You're all under arrest.

-He did it. He talks about
killing people every day.

-Hey! Shut up! No! Don't shoot!

I didn't kill anybody.
All I did was hire this guy

for one of the stupid
murder-mystery parties.

Now there is a real dead guy,

and this is no longer a party.

-Dan, you threw me
a murder-mystery party?

-Yeah, I mean, it's Christmas.
I had to give you something.

But I swear to God,
Jimmy Buffet,

whoever the hell is listening,

bring this guy back,
and I promise I will never do

another thoughtful thing
as long as I live!

-Dan, he's moving.
He's breathing.

It's coming back to life because
you believed in Christmas.

-Well, I fell for something,
didn't I?

-Big time.
Stand down, everybody.

These are all fake cops.

All those badges
are chocolate, too.

Fred, take a bow.
You've earned it.

-Oh. Thank you very much.
Thank you very much.

Oh, and I think all of you guys

should give yourselves
a big round of applause

for participating
in this beautiful piece

of immersive theater.

-Oh. Excellent job.

-I gotta admit, Dan,
you had me going for a while.

But then I saw the way
you shook Fred.

That wasn't your everyday anger.

-You know Dan's
different types of anger?

-Oh, yeah.

In our time together,
I've seen every vintage.

I'm kind of an anger sommelier.

And that Fred shake -- that was
a bottle you only pop open

when someone overcharges you,
like at Chipotle,

when they make you pay extra
for guac.

-Everybody wants guac.

They should include it
in the price.

-After that, I went to Fred

and asked him to add
another level to the game.

All it took was me investing
too much money

in his all-female production
of "A Few Good Men."

Oh, opening night is --
-I'm not going.

-Now, I'm sure you're
all wondering

how I made the murder look
so real.

-No, no, we're not.

-All it took was a watermelon
full of cow's blood.

-And where'd you get
cow's blood?

-Just Google it.

-So I guess that's
game, set...back.

-Did you just sacrifice
your cool jacket to save mine?

-It was my coat's turn
to be on top.

- My hero.
- It was nothing.

-I was talking to your coat.

- We will look back
on this and laugh,

when the world is turned
to sand

and we're riding our worms
to work.

-You know, I take back
everything I said

about a pile of angels
having to jumpstart your heart,

because this might be one of the
best Christmas presents ever.

-You know,
I know you a little, too,

and the only thing
you like more

than escape rooms
or murder mysteries

is this place.

So I thought I'd mash them up

and give you
a little Christmas gumbo.

-Hey, and you didn't even
have to go to Brooklyn for it.

-Well, Brooklyn to me
is an escape room.

-You hear that?
He doesn't need angels.

Why did we even fly down here?

-Ah, don't worry.
We'll get our wings.

Come on, let's grab some booze
and sneak it back into heaven.

-Hey, guys,
you forgot your weird...

...guitar.

I really must have hit my head
when I passed out.