Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
Look what descended from the sixth floor, Hey, Jimmy.
James Barcomb:
Jack. How are you holding up, son?
Bobby Keough:
I'm good, sir.
James Barcomb:
You should've seen this kid. He was outstanding. Ever thought about doing a tour with public affairs? We could use a good-looking son of a bitch like you.
Jack Van Meter:
He's a good young cop, Jimmy, and he's mine. Well, I tried.
James Barcomb:
The board voted- In policy, You're off the hook, kid.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
There you go.
Jack Van Meter:
Congratulations. Have a cigar.
James Barcomb:
The report will be ready in the morning. You guys can get back into the field. So, the vote... The vote was four to one.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
What? Who the fuck pissed backwards, Holland?
James Barcomb:
Affirmatron.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
I'd like to see his bald-headed black ass back in a radio car in South Central.
James Barcomb:
We don't need that shit.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
He actually said out of policy.
Jack Van Meter:
Holland began contacting outside agencies a month ago. He's doing civil service testing with the city of Cleveland. He's leaving to run their P.D. Didn't hear it from me.
James Barcomb:
Didn't hear it from you.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
Fuck Holland. Good riddance. We're gonna have to pin his stars on another brother or the community will go apeshit.
James Barcomb:
Jesus, Eldon, you sound just like your old man.
Jack Van Meter:
It's not such a bad thing, Everything I know-his old man. A toast to Bobby. Right between the eyes.
Bobby Keough:
Thank you, guys. I mean it. Thanks for giving me the chance to prove myself in SlS.
Jack Van Meter:
Eldon, Jimmy has something to tell you.
James Barcomb:
You made lieutenant. You're next on the transfer list.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
Fuck you, too, Jimmy.
James Barcomb:
No. We're not pulling your dick.
Det. Sgt. Eldon Perry Jr.:
It's about fucking Time!
Eddie:
Boy, look, look! Look! Your daddy may not had a whole lot of money. Oh, but he was rich, because he invested in people. What'd you think? You think I was the only one he gave a job to, Calvin? No! That man opened up the doors to anybody and any knucklehead around here in the city of Chicago that wanted to come down here and make somebody out themselves. Gave the opportunity to be somebody! A licensed professional barber. Now, me, myself, personally... I wouldn't gave half these bail-jumpers the opportunity. But, you know, it's just hard enough. You sit in there and try to cut somebody's head and gotta worry about this fool over there trying to shank you. But let me tell you somethin'. At the end of the day... the end of the day, I was glad I was here. And now you!
Caroline:
Now, promise me you won't tell them.
Annie:
What kind of person do you think I am?
Caroline:
I repeat: promise me you won't tell them. [they enter]
Caroline:
Hey, guys.
Del:
Hey, hey. What ya' been?
Annie:
Well, you guys won't believe this. Caroline and I were out at the ATM on Eighth St.
Caroline:
Okay, fine, let's just get it out in the open. I picked my nose and they got it on videotape. Give me your best shot. You may not get another opportunity like this. Caroline, you're so snotty. Caroline, don't be so picky.
Del:
Caroline, you picked your nose?
Richard:
Oh my God. And I use your pencils.
Annie:
Well, I was only going to say you lost your 200 bucks, but hey.
Rusty Zimmerman:
[singing can be heard from Rusty's open window] Yeah, gitchi gitchi ya ya da da, gitchi gitchi ya ya here, mocha chocolata ya ya...
Walt Koontz:
[shouts out the window] Hey! Hei! Shut the fuckin' window or shut the fuck up!
Rusty Zimmerman:
[Really fast] You shut you'r fuckin' window!
Walt Koontz:
Fuckin' faggots!
Rusty Zimmerman:
The gay community thanks you for your support, fucker!
Walt Koontz:
Fuck you and the gay community!
Rusty Zimmerman:
Fuck you and your "Lets get married, have kids and beat up the fuckin' dog" community, Fucker!
Rusty Zimmerman:
[singing really loud out of the window] Go sister, go sister, go sister, hei sister go sister, go sister...
Walt Koontz:
Fuckin' demented fuckin' fruitcakes!
Fletcher:
Mrs. Cole, is this a copy of your driver's liscense? [shows paper]
Samantha:
That's right.
Fletcher:
It says here you are a blonde, are you? If you don't remember perhaps Mr. Faulk will.
Samantha:
Brunette.
Fletcher:
Maybe if we play the tape again, maybe it's on there...
Samantha:
I'm a brunette!
Fletcher:
Thank you. Now let's see... weight 105? Yeah, in your bra.
Dana:
Your honor, I object.
Fletcher:
You would!
Dana:
Bastard!
Fletcher:
Hag!
Judge Stevens:
QUIET! Overruled! Weight?
Samantha:
118. [Fletcher gives her a look]
Samantha:
Alright, fine, fine, I'm 127.
Fletcher:
Uh, huh, and it says here you were born in 1964, but that's not true either is it? Is it!
Samantha:
No.
Fletcher:
Please tell the court what's on your birth certificate under Date of Birth.
Dana:
Your honor, I object. What does this have to do with anything?
Judge Stevens:
Overruled. Mrs. Cole, answer the question.
Samantha:
1965.
Fletcher:
Now let get this straight. That means you lied about your age to make yourself older. But why would any woman want to DO THAT?
Samantha:
I changed it so I could get married.
Fletcher:
AND THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE! My client lied about her age! She was only 17 when she got married, which makes her a minor. And in the great state of California, no minor can enter into any legal contract without parental consent. [to Dana]
Fletcher:
Including...?
Dana:
[sighs] Prenuptual agreements.
Fletcher:
Prenuptual agreements! This contract is void! The fact that my client has been riden more than Seattle Slew is irrelevant. Standard Community Property applies and she is entitled to half of the marital assets, or $11.395 million. Jordan fades back, swoosh, and THAT'S THE GAME! Nothing further, your honor!
Detective Terrence Washington:
If it ain't L.A.'s deadliest white boy.
Tom Ludlow:
Aren't you on the wrong side of the yellow tape?
Detective Terrence Washington:
Congrats on four more notches for your gun belt. I'll be praying for the families of your victims.
Tom Ludlow:
They're called suspects. The victims are the fourteen-year-old schoolgirls the suspects kept in a cage and sold to chickenhawks to poke, prod, and put on the Internet. Suspects, Washington. Suspects.
Detective Terrence Washington:
As evil as those men were, they had a right to trial. There's gonna be some blowback from the Korean community on this one.
Tom Ludlow:
Now that you're all militant, why don't you just say it? You think I'm a racist.
Detective Terrence Washington:
You have another explanation?
Tom Ludlow:
No I don't. Because if I roll and determine the suspects are black, yellow or brown, I'll blow 'em out of their socks. But if they're white, I'll give 'em a ride home. You know why? 'Cause I'm a racist. Fuck you.
Detective Terrence Washington:
Man, I would give my right arm to have that shit on tape.
Tom Ludlow:
What happened to you, Terrence? We used to be brothers.
