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Lethal Weapon 3 1992

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I deliver perfection...|and don't brag about it! :D
Riggs, Homicide.
- Nobody's dead.|- The night's young.
This is Sergeant Murtaugh.
- Threat or a scare?|- Real thing.
He saw the device.
It's on Level 1, by the gas pumps.|I wrote the license plate number.
That's okay, sir. Thanks a lot.
- You evacuated the building?|- It's clean.
- Where's the bomb squad?|- Coming.
Good. It's under control. Let's go.
I think we ought to check this out.
- Hey, Riggs.|- What?
- Bomb squad's coming.|- There's no bomb.
- How do you know?|- Because it's a full moon.
Moon, lunar, lunatics. They're everywhere.
- Is that Greek?|- No, Latin.
You surprise the shit out of me.
There's no bomb.|It's probably a false alarm.
It happens. He probably saw a radio|on the back seat.
Let's not mess with it.|Wait for the bomb squad.
You're right. You sit tight,|I'll be right back.
What's the matter with you?
- There's a bomb in there!|- No, there's not.
- There's a bomb in there!|- There is not.
There's a bomb in there!
- You know how I know?|- How?
I've got eight days till retirement|and I won't make a stupid mistake.
There is no bomb.|I'll bet vital parts of my anatomy.
Look.
Trust me. Okay?
That's usually my first mistake.
Hey, wait. I'm coming.
Rog?
- Is your insurance paid up?|- Of course. Why?
- There could be a bomb in here.|- Oh, God!
- I hate it when I'm right.|- Learn to trust your instincts more.
Oh, God.
The first impression|can often be the right one.
Drive shaft...
- I wonder if there's a bomb.|- Just don't touch it.
Just looking.
What are you doing? Don't open the door!
Son of a bitch, just look at it.
That's all I'll do, just look.
There's more plastic than Cher.
I love this job. This is amateur night.
Open the door. I can't hear you.
Open the door.
Don't do nothing.
Not that one!
You son of a bitch.
This is a pretty shonky job.|I think I can dismantle it.
It looks like Beirut to me. Let's go!
Everybody's outside. Just me, you|and the cat are dumb enough to be here.
Nearly a cat-tastrophe, huh?
- Relax, Rog. Relax.|- Right.
Don't do nothing.
We've got 9 minutes and 7 seconds left.|You know what we can do?
We could drive it out.
Fine, it's your turn to drive.
No keys. I could hot-wire it.
Don't even say "hot-wire"|around this stuff!
You're right.
Why am I doing this? Why?
We're going to have to do it|the old-fashioned way.
What are you thinking?
What are you thinking?
- I'm thinking we should cut the blue wire.|- Wait!
- That's not what I think.|- You think maybe the red?
No! No!
I'm thinking it's 8 minutes and 42 seconds.
We can go upstairs, wait for|the bomb squad, and have a cappuccino.
The bomb squad never gets here on time.|And it's 8 minutes, 31 seconds.
Rog, please.
Forget the cappuccino.
- You know what they'll say?|- "Get the fuck out of here!"
But then they'll say: "Let's cut|the blue wire", which I'll do right now.
- Wait, wait!|- What?
How can you be so sure?
It's just a hunch.
A hunch?
Remember the bomb under your toilet?
- How could I forget?|- Red wire, blue wire, same thing.
This is more simplified,|but a bit more powerful.
From where I sat, I couldn't see.
Forget it. Come on, trust me.
Trust you?
Guess not. I'm cutting the red wire, okay?
What? What?
A minute ago you said blue.
I did?
You said blue.
- I meant red.|- Sure?
We can do it your way if you like.
- My way? I don't have...|- Quiet!
I'm sure, okay?
Ah, shit!
Ready?
Rog?
What?
Won't you miss all this good stuff|when you retire?
Won't you miss it a little bit?
I'm cutting the wire.
Snip. All done.
Grab the cat!
Grab the cat?
Get out of there! Take cover!
Where are they?
Bravo.
Whoops.
Right. "Whoops."
Right.
Seven days till retirement,|I'm busted down to patrolman.
I should've cut the red wire.
- You did.|- No, I cut the blue wire.
That's what I meant.
- We should've waited for the bomb squad.|- Must I hear this every day?
- Every day until I retire!|- That'll be a week too long.
- My feet are killing me.|- They're killing me, too.
- How?|- I have to listen to you bitch about them!
- Because you should've cut the red wire!|- I did cut the red wire!
What's this?
It's kind of soft. Not a bulletproof vest.
It won't keep anything out.
It'll keep my stomach in.
What have you got under there?
It's a girdle.
What?
It's a girdle.
Does Trish know?
It's a man's girdle.
They make girdles for men?
- Yes, they make girdles for men.|- They do?
Yeah, they do.|I haven't worn this uniform in 15 years.
- Cleaners must have shrunk it.|- You should take it to Chin.
I did take it to Chin. Look at it.|It shrunk all up in here.
I have to hold my breath.
Did you see that?
- See what?|- Jaywalker.
Jaywalking?
Hold it right there, pal.|Step up here, please.
- Me?|- Yes, you.
- What'd I do?|- Stand there.
Jaywalking. I saw you.|I'll have to cite you.
Jaywalking? Oh, Jesus, come on!
- Should I radio for backup?|- Smart-ass. Can you get the ticket book?
There are crimes in the city|and you're hassling me...
Shut up!
- Do you know how to fill one of these out?|- A long time ago.
I can't read it. The print is too small|without my glasses.
Can we speed this up?|You may have nothing to do, but I do.
No, we can't, so will you shut up?
- Jaywalking.|- Ask for his license.
- License, for jaywalking?|- Yeah.
I don't have it on me. I wasn't driving.
I was walking.|Do I need a walking license now?
- Let's just shoot him!|- Is he crazy?
I'm going to drill him!|We'll make it look like suicide!
- Get out of the way!|- No, the video cameras!
I don't care! I'll drill him!
Get out of here, before he kills you!
- Go that way! Not that way!|- This way! Over here!
- Run!|- Now!
Run!
Wait a minute!
You forgot to sign.
What was that?
Wait a minute.|You forgot to sign the form.
Who are you?
You're not the regular guy?
- He's on vacation.|- On vacation?
Well, who the hell is that?
Get in the truck.
You fucking prick!
Are you a cop?
Fourteen-sixty. Into pursuit.|Will continue transmission.
Call 911.
Okay, honey. Let me drive.|We're in pursuit.
I'm driving! Don't worry.
This fool picked the wrong time|to mess with the wrong lady.
Just stay close.
Right behind you, baby!
Take a good look!
Delores the Road Warrior|is dead on your raggedy ass!
Ram him!
- Watch out, Riggs!|- Come on!
Are you married, sugar?
What? Yes, 24 years. 24 years!
Yeah, but is it working?
- You can't get closer?|- I am. I'm getting closer.
Hold on, Riggs!
Hold on! We got you!
Hold on!
- I told you I could do it!|- Closer!
- Get me up there!|- Go!
I am!
Back off!
If he falls, don't hit him.
Don't worry, I've got something for you.
Thanks for the interest, sugar,|but one thing at a time.
- Catch him!|- All right!
Keep singing. Just stay close.
Relax, baby. Relax.
Keep your hands off my thighs!
- He's in trouble. Watch out!|- I got him!
I'm getting too old for this.
Not for me, you're not, sugar.
You have the right to remain unconscious.
Anything you say ain't gonna be much.
Hey, Riggs. Are you all right?
I'm okay. I think we've got to book|this guy for not wearing his seat belt.
That was dynamite driving.
- She's a dynamite driver.|- I'll show you dynamite.
Sho 'nuff!
What have you two been up to?
What do you mean? We were in pursuit.
- I saw you kiss her.|- I didn't. She kissed me.
It looked mutual to me.|Wipe that lipstick off...
Hey, go spit, Riggs.
Are you okay?
Are you all right?
Back to bed. Back to bed.
Good morning, guys. Daddy.
How about treating your dad|to breakfast today?
- You've got six more days to go.|- Laundry service.
Hold this. Hangers?
I'm springing for the soap.|Nothing too fancy. Cute dog.
It's a Westie.
'Morning, Trish.
'Morning, Rog.
- Good morning, Nick.|- Spare me.
- What, you didn't brush your teeth?|- Hold it, mister.
Just looking for some orange juice.
Don't get any fingerprints on the door|and put the glass in the dishwasher.
Did somebody commit a murder?
Someone's coming to see the house.
A little mess adds to the charm.
How's this?
Isn't this great? Okay?
Kelly's Pool Hall.
Right, Kelly, hi. Let me speak to Dad.
Hi, honey. How are you?|I thought I asked you not to call me here.
- It's for you.|- Me?
Who is it? Hello?
{y:i}Hi. It's my first day at work. Are you|{y:i}going to come by and wish me luck?
- Beautiful, huh? Come on, check it out.|- Beautiful lawn.
It's great.
See how quiet it is here? Listen.
Isn't that great? Come on.
- It's quiet.|- The inside's even better.
- It's the people to look at the house.|- And our broker.
Just want to make sure.
I'll show you this room first.|It's my favorite.
Is that it? Does that say it all?
It's very nice.
I love that picture window.
- It's just been completely replaced.|- Why?
A drug dealer came through with his car|and crashed right in.
Shot up the whole place.
Son of a bitch!|I'm going to cut him off at the knees.
It's true. It's true. True.|Okay, anyway, look.
Do you like the drapes?|Maybe she'll leave them.
- I thought you quit.|- I did.
- You'll stink up the house. Don't smoke.|- I'm itching to.
Here.
Chew on these.
I have to tell you this. It's the law.|It's called "full disclosure".
Anything else you want to disclose|before we go on?
Now that you mention it, the bathroom|has been completely remodeled...
...due to unexpected bomb damage.
Hey, come on. It's okay.
Son of a bitch!
Don't, don't. You'll never sell the house.
Okay. We saw enough of the kitchen.|I'll show you the upstairs.
Wait till you see it.|It's beautiful. You'll love it.
They're gone. Leo Getz,|I'm going to kill him.
Son of a bitch. I'm going to kill him!
You have to let me, Riggs!
They weren't going to buy it anyway!
- You scared them away!|- They couldn't afford to buy it!
- Oh, I see.|- Okay, relax.
I had to tell them everything.|It's the law. "Full disclosure."
- You must have heard of it?|- I'm a cop. I'm the law!
- Get off me! What is it with you?|- Hold it!
Okay, okay.
At least he didn't tell them|about the nail-gun incident.
I forgot. Did you have a permit|when you built over the garage?
Permit?
Hold it! Leo's here. I'll take care of it.
I'll make some calls.|We'll get some back-dated permits.
- Which phone can I use?|- Sunroom.
- It must be easier than this.|- Count on Leo Getz.
You need less aggravation.|Come to work with me.
Thank you, Leo! Son of a bitch.
Did you forget something?
This.
You wear it. You sleep in it. You eat in it.
Okay?
Six more days.
And you...
...keep an eye on him.
Sure.
She loves me.
Stop fronting yourself.|You know what I'm saying?
Swing with me and my crew.
- I got school.|- Forget school.
Here comes your pops.
- Later.|- All right, gotcha.
Next time.
- 'Morning, Rog.|- How are you doing?
Hey, Nick?
- Wasn't that Darryl?|- Yeah.
I haven't seen him around in a while.
He dropped out of high school.
Those are pretty gang colors he's wearing.
Yeah, I know.
Hey, Nick?
Yeah, Dad?
Be good.
Word.
"Word", Nick.
Word.
"Word", Riggs.
"Word", Rog.
- What are we talking about?|- "Word."
Four letters. Starts with a "W",|"O" in the middle, "D" at the end.
Oh, yeah, that word.
"Word."
- Tyrone, my man, how are you?|- Jack, how's it going?
- Let's take a walk.|- Wait here for me.
Look around. This is my dream|and it's all coming true.
You sank your money into this,|out here in the middle of the desert?
- Know why it'll be a gold mine?|- Do tell.
Because no one wants to live|next door to a menace like you.
I came to do business,|not to be insulted by you.
Relax, Tyrone.
Like houses,|friendships need strong foundations.
Smitty, come here. Come here.
What's wrong with you?|Don't I pay you good and take care of you?
- Sure you do.|- What about the stunt you and Billy pulled?
- It was a good plan. It worked.|- It worked? It didn't work.
You got nailed, first time out.
Nobody who works for me|goes into business for themselves.
Do you understand me?|See how that can jeopardize everything?
- Right?|- Whatever.
Especially trying to pop an armored car.
Okay, Billy got caught.|There's nothing I can do about that now.
He'll have to face the music on his own.
But you and me...
...we're gonna start over.
You know what I mean?
- Whatever you say.|- Good.
Glad you understand|what I'm talking about.
Now we've got a relationship|we can build on.
- Employee problems. You know how it is?|- Yeah, right.
You invest time and energy|into training somebody.
Then they get greedy and do something|stupid that jeopardizes everything.
It's a bitch!
Stick around. This is the good part.
We can put our initials in there.
Jesus Christ!
Lankershim and Vineland.|Where are we going?
Right here. Rianne's got a new job.|I promised her I'd stop by.
That's a good reason.
All right. Here we are.
- You got any silver, any change?|- We're cops.
That's right, we're cops. Not crooks.|I'll get change.
Get down! All of you!
Get down!
How do you like me?
What are you doing with a rubber gun?
This is a film.
Cut, cut! Who the fuck is this lunatic?
- Get him off my set.|- This isn't part of the story.
- Where did you come from?|- Can we get a cop on set?
Rianne, I'm so sorry.|I feel like a microbe right now.
- You really thought I was in trouble?|- I did.
A real cop. Go sit in your fucking trailer.
- Are you a fucking idiot?|- I apologize.
He's a friend of mine, a policeman.|He thought I was in trouble.
We're both...
He's a friend of yours?
Let me tell you something:|You're fired. Have a nice day.
Fired? Riggs, what'd you do?
You're not fired.
No, you're not. Just take it easy.
You can't fire her for something I did.
I don't care whose mistake it was.|She's fired.
I apologize to everyone.
Don't push him!
All of you, go!
Just take it easy. Don't push him.
Get off my set, all right?|What are you, deaf?
Get off my set!
On any normal day,|I'd smack you in the mouth.
Is that so?
Don't!
It's a normal day.
I'm sorry. Listen, are you okay? I'm sorry.
I'm all thumbs. He fell down.|Let me help you.
I said don't hit him!
- Is she fired?|- Yes, she's fired.
- Is she fired?|- No, no.
- It's okay.|- Does she get a raise?
- Yes. I said, "yes".|- Good.
Rianne, I think you have a new friend here.
We'd like you to come back.
You can't settle every problem|with your fists.
- I couldn't use my gun with that crowd.|- Six more days.
I don't want to hear that anymore.
Did Rianne get her job back?|Did she get a raise?
I don't hear a "thank you".
Maybe I should become a Hollywood agent.|What do you think?
- It won't work.|- Why?
You don't have that killer instinct.
Son of a bitch!
- We should've put a bag on the meter.|- I'll put it in the glove compartment.
I don't do that anymore.
Oh, yeah? Good man.
It's full. Put it in the back seat.
- You really like those things?|- These? They're good.
You can eat a box of them|and still be dying for a cigarette.
- Did you cut yourself shaving?|- Yeah.
Old razor?
Old face.
You're letting this retirement thing|get you down.
Spend a few more years|getting used to the idea. Why quit?
- I've got plans for my retirement.|- Oh, yeah, plans.
- I do. Big plans.|- Big plans?
- I've had them for a long time.|- Like what?
Like...
- Things, man.|- Things.
Things.
Things I've put off for too long.
Oh, those things. I've got those, too.
I see you've given this a lot of thought.
Yeah.
I've given it a lot of thought.
Goddamn it!
- What's going on?|- I'm pissed off. You need a reason?
- I thought I heard gunfire.|- Get your hearing checked! Put that away!
What are you looking at?
Hey, man. Peace.
Why'd you call us down here?
How are you doing, son?
Does your mother know you're here?
- Did you do this?|- Nice shooting.
Better than Billy the Kid.
Diaper rash makes you cranky, huh?
Give it to your mom.|Maybe she'll stick it on the refrigerator.
- Can I borrow your glasses?|- Yeah.
Who's wearing?
Roger, you are.
Why me? You guys should be wearing.
Mr. Murtaugh, let me assist you.
I don't need help.|I've been dressing myself since I was 30.
- Okay, man, just trying to help.|- Get back.
All you perverts, turn your heads.
- Take it off, baby.|- Hold this shirt.
You're wearing a girdle.
- He's got a girdle.|- This is not a girdle.
This is not a girdle. It's my back.
My back went out on me.
I hurt my back this morning lifting weights.|What are you talking about?
I saw him do it.
Everybody, listen up.
I want you all to look at these.|Lovely bullets.
Cute.
Notice the smooth jacket.|Pay particular attention to the tip.
Now, you've all seen these vests stop|a.357 Magnum bullet.
Observe.
Son of a bitch.
- Armor-piercing bullets?|- Yeah, cop killers.
Those bullets came from the gun|of a suspect we arrested yesterday.
They're out there on the streets.
Vests are optional, boys and girls.|Especially boys.
See you, Riggs.
Cop killers.
Son of a bitch.
I think we should talk to Billy Phelps.|I'll have him brought in for interrogation.
I'm here to talk to Billy Phelps.
- Can I see your ID, please?|- Sure.
William Phelps, armored car suspect.|He's been moved to Interrogation.
- Do you know where that is?|- Sure. I've been there a lot.
Same floor.
I guess now you're retiring, that Swiss|bank account will come in pretty handy.
How much you got in there, $1 million?|$1.5 million?
- $5 million.|- $5 million?
Well, you deserve it.
It's better than those|miserable drug dealers getting it.
What are you talking about?
Don't sweat it. You laundered it,|didn't you? They can't trace it.
- They can't trace it.|- What?
So long as I get an invite|to "casa de" Murtaugh, I'm happy.
"Casa" what?
- I've never been to Portugal.|- Stop joking.
She's a cop.
I know she's a cop.|She's probably on the take, too.
The whole Force is bent.
She may be wearing a skirt,|but we're all brothers.
You know I have nothing.|I ain't been to Portugal.
Listen to me.
Son of a bitch.
- How are you doing?|- Fine.
- Who is it today?|- Billy Phelps.
Who are you?
Fly me. I'm your friendly|Portuguese airline.
She's Infernal Affairs.
How'd you know?
I took the liberty|of looking at your file folder.
Lorna Cole.
- And you're Sergeant Murtaugh.|- I used to be.
What's Infernal Repairs|want with our collar?
We're taking over, thanks.
Nobody told us they were taking over.
Nobody has to tell you anything,|Patrolman.
I want to go and see the captain.
You want to see the captain?|Let's go see the captain.
- And put on a vest.|- Oh, are you wearing one?
Just take it easy, man.
Hey, guys. Phelps, William.|Actually, his name's Billy.
You, too?
- Popular guy today.|- Somebody with him?
No, not really.|He's down the hall to the right.
Want to sign in here, Sarge?
Miss.
- What's Internal Affairs doing here?|- Don't start. I just found out myself.
This is Herman Walters,|Chief of Intelligence.
You haven't met his daughter,|Lorna Doone.
Pleased to meet you.
The Phelps case has been transferred|to Internal Affairs.
Why?
- I can't tell you.|- That's classified.
We busted our buns busting this guy.|We busted him.
Busted is right.|He spent the night in the hospital.
- He didn't buckle up.|- We even cited him.
I know, I read your report.
Our cases have, unfortunately,|crossed paths here.
That's all I can say.|We'll take over from here.
Captain, what is she talking about here?
- That's classified.|- No, I'm talking to him.
I'm telling you...
No, I said, "Captain".|I'm talking to the captain.
- That's classified.|- I'm talking to him.
That's bullshit!
Maybe these guys|can contribute something to this case?
From their records,|they only contribute mayhem and chaos.
No, I'm Chaos, he's Mayhem.|We're a double act.
What are we,|required reading or something?
As a matter of fact, you are.
It's a cross between "Police Gazette"|and "Mad" magazine.
- What's wrong with "Mad"?|- Nothing, I used to read it...
You've got some taste.
...when I was 12.
- Riggs, let's go.|- I'm out of here.
We busted him, we can talk to him.
- Captain.|- Riggs. Murtaugh.
Get your asses back here.
You'll be needing these.
I'm reinstating both of you.
- Don't you just love him?|- Yeah.
God!
You really are a beautiful man.
Just get rid of the blues.
- They don't go with your ponytail.|- Absolutely not.
Yeah, right.
Get a haircut!
Of course, I won't.
You've exceeded your authority, Captain.
- That's not how I see it.|- That's how the chief will see it.
- Take it up with him.|- I think I will.
Catch up with them. We don't want this|screwed up with cowboy tactics.
Son of a bitch.
Hi, Billy.
Jack.
'Bye, Billy.
See you, Billy.
Sergeant, did you get what you need?
Not really. It's a dead issue, I'm afraid.
How long has Phelps been doing this?
- Doing what?|- This armored-car thing.
I wouldn't know.|I'm not interested in armored cars.
I don't think she's telling us everything.
I think you're right.
Boy, these six days are going to be rough.
God, be good to me, please.
Shit, son of a bitch knew there was|a camera in the wall.
Damn it!
He didn't know there was one|in the interrogation room.
There isn't.
We installed them six months ago.
- Every station.|- That's great.
Six months and we don't know about it?
This is the "police police", Captain.
"Police police." Very good. Can you say|that three times in a row, real fast?
- Why? Am I getting to you?|- Are you trying to bait me?
I'm a master at it.
That figures.
Baiting master. Great, man,|try all the tricks.
Freeze that. Stop it.
Jack Travis.
Who?
Lieutenant Jack Edward Travis.
He was one of us.
Hell of a brutal cop.|He could beat a confession out of anyone.
One hell of a dirty cop.
I've never seen so many suspensions|and reprimands and charges of misconduct.
He's also as tough as they come.
What happened to him?
I don't know.
His partner and him were on a stakeout.|He went for coffee, never came back.
Looks like he's had|one cappuccino too many.
We'd better brief Walters.
Excuse me, cute stuff.
- That's harassment.|- "Cute stuff." That's you.
- Captain.|- Boys. It's just the captain.
Your involvement in this case ended|when Phelps hit the floor.
Why don't you just go back|and beat your street?
- Now's the time to buy.|- Not now.
- Hey, Roger.|- Not now, Leo.
- Not now!|- We got to talk, babe, okay?
You're in trouble. You've got termites.
Termites?
- Oh, God!|- You're infested!
The only thing holding up your house|is the paint.
We should go.
Leo, could you get the place fumigated?
We should pull every file on this guy.
I know this guy.|Are you watching "Geraldo"?
- What?|- I know the guy.
- How do you know him?|- I've seen the guy before.
- Where?|- I don't know. I recognize him...
His name is Jack Travis.|Does that ring a bell?
Hands off the clothes. Okay?
I'm thinking. Let me think.
It was a big party.
Someone brought a monkey|that knocked over the salad bar.
And this guy comes in|and introduces me to another guy...
...who wants a favor.
- I got it!|- What?
He's got it!
- I remember!|- You remember!
Don't do it. Don't let the earring fool you.
- We're back. We're back!|- Yeah.
Listen. Can I have a gun this time?
Okay, this is it! These guys always|wanted me to do favors for them!
Like, some guys wanted broads,|another guy wanted Cuban cigars.
Your guy, hockey.
The best seats in the house.
- Where're the seats?|- Yeah?
Probably by the glass.
Does "needle in a haystack"|mean anything to you?
Why don't we spread out?
If we all take a different direction,|it'd be like old times.
Don't push, lady.|I'm on police business here.
Just take it easy.
{y:i}Los Angeles penalty. Number 15.
{y:i}Two minutes for high-sticking.
{y:i}Time, 5:15.
{y:i}Mr. Jack Travis?
{y:i}Mr. Jack Travis, this is the LAPD.
{y:i}We know you're in here.
{y:i}We know where you are.|{y:i}Just stay in your seat.
{y:i}Don't be stupid.
{y:i}I'll be there to escort you out in a minute.
{y:i}There's a policeman at every exit,|{y:i}so it's no use trying to run.
Smart son of a bitch.
{y:i}Just stay where you are.
{y:i}Thanks for your cooperation.|{y:i}Play on, boys.
Come on, let's go!
Get out of my fucking way!
Excuse me.
You can't be on the ice!
I got him!
You have the right... You're under arrest!
Fucking weasel!
What the hell's going on here?
I'm LAPD!
I don't care. You can't be on the ice.
I got him!
You're all right, pal. Stay calm.
Make sure you tell my mother.
Where'd he go?
Down there.
Son of a bitch!
He thinks I don't know I'm dying.|I know it.
- You'll be okay.|- I'm dying, Roger.
I'm choking, see?
This is what they do when they die.
Leo, it's going to be okay.
My body's numb. I can't feel it.
I'm going to die, I know it. What?
You're lying on the ice.
- That's why I'm cold?|- That's why you're cold.
- That's why I'm numb?|- That's why you're numb.
But he shot me. Look at all the blood.
- It's just a flesh wound.|- So it's okay.
He's okay. He's going to make it.|He's alive!
- Bring him this way.|- I can't believe this.
- I can't believe I got shot.|- Calm down.
Riggs, are you here?
We're all the same now. We all got shot.
You'll be fine.
Relax.
I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me.|I can take this.
Calm down. We'll take care of it.|You'll be out of here tonight.
It's no big deal.
That's not a good idea.|You shouldn't rush this, Doc.
You should rest up.
A dum-dum wound can be serious.
What's a "dum-dum wound"?
You don't know? A guy on the Force|got his thumb shot off by a dum-dum.
From the shock,|he was dead two days later.
"Dead two days later"?
He died from dum-dums?
- We'll keep you overnight.|- Make it two.
Two days?
Okay, we'll keep him in two days.
Is that Leo's chart?
- Two days, then you'll be as good as new.|- I should be with them.
I should be with...
How do you spell, "proctological"?
Rectal exam?
- No, you can't do that to Leo.|- Sure, we can.
Why's she...
Please, Mr. Getz.
You've been shot in the arm?|Let her take it. You'll get it back.
There's a clock in your room.
Does this look like a "dum-dum wound"?
- It sounded like one when it happened.|- Shit.
- Take it easy. Two days.|- Two days and you'll be out. No problem.
- I'll see you guys.|- We won't make a move without you.
I thought that bullet sounded different.
- Relax. They'll be there when you get out.|- I'm fine.
- You own your house, Doc?|- What?
- You don't recognize my face?|- No, sir.
Watch.
It's about time.
These doggy treats are okay,|but I need some human food.
Don't worry. I'll make you the best thing|you've ever had.
Good.
- You ever eaten one of my hamburgers?|- I've been lucky so far.
Hey, Fast Eddie.
- How's business?|- Booming. Can't you tell?
Yeah, I'm looking at it.|Did you meet my partner?
I want to cook one|of those monster burgers for him.
- Go for it.|- All right.
You'll let him cook?
- Do I have a choice?|- No, because it's Wednesday.
He's too big to argue with.
In that case, give me a MacRog.
Hold the hair.
Did you wash your hands?
Keep joking. But I guarantee|you're gonna like this burger...
...and you're gonna come back|with your friends.
I haven't got any friends,|you know that, except you.
He's a comedian in his spare time.
When is he gonna say something funny?
Are you gonna put that out?
You're finished with it, yeah?
Do you mind? Thanks.
Sorry. I was just looking at it.
Chew on this onion.
He's quitting, so help him.
I was only looking at it.
The first thing is the fat.
Everyone says, "Cut the fat".
My uncle said, "You cut the fat,|you kill the burger". Right?
Yeah.
There's an art to it.|You just can't plop this on the grill.
Gently coax the flavors out.
Hey, what's the problem?
A little pepper,|then you massage it a little bit.
Just a little bit.
"Sweet, sweet meat"
Shit, man, feel it.
Okay, guys!
LAPD. Let me see your hands.
Let me see your hands. Get them up!
In the car! Get them up there!|Let me see both of them! Come on!
Hey, Riggs!
Don't you love me? Five days.
Don't do that to me.
- Riggs, are you okay?|- Yeah.
Who did it?
All right, asshole!
I want to see your hands, right now!
Back me up, Riggs.
Darryl?
Fuck, no!
Call an ambulance!|Call an ambulance! Breathe!
Please, breathe.
Breathe!
Call an ambulance!
Come on! Breathe! Oh, God!
Fuck, it's Darryl!
Oh, God, don't do this to me! Breathe!
- He's dead.|- Breathe!
- God, don't do this!|- He's dead.
Rog, he's dead!
He's dead, Rog.|Don't mess with the corpse.
He's dead. Come on, man,|it was a clean shoot.
It's okay, it was a clean shoot.
He was gonna do you|and he was gonna do me.
It's okay. Are you okay?
It's not okay.
I know that kid.
I know that kid.
He's Nick's friend.
- I got it, Mom.|- I'll get it.
Hello?
Hi, Martin.
He's not here.
Oh, my God!
Thanks.
Fuck!
How are you doing? Taking your vitamins?
- Riggs, how's Murtaugh?|- He's good. He's fine.
- I'm sure he's anything but fine.|- Really, he's okay.
- I'd really like to talk to him.|- That's not such a good idea.
The best thing to do is to leave him alone.
- Let's get something for your cold.|- I know what I'm talking about.
- We have to talk.|- Talking to you is bad for my image.
- I'm afraid I insist.|- Oh, you insist?
In that case, let's find someplace private.|Step into my orifice.
- Hey, Becker, how's it hanging?|- Hey, Riggs.
- Clip any wrong wires lately?|- I haven't done that for a couple of days.
Next time, wait for the bomb squad.
Yeah, it's our job.
I'll remember that.|We saved a cat, though.
Great. I love cats.
Go ahead, talk. I'm listening.
You purposefully withheld information|concerning a case under my investigation.
Damn right, I did.
Careful, she's Internal Affairs.
You had a tip on Travis.|You should have shared it with me.
No, I take that back.
You were required to share it with me.
I was "required" to share it with you?
I don't have to share shit with you.
Schoolyard rules: If you don't scratch|my back, I don't throw you...
- Oh, come on, Riggs. I can't do that!|- Yes, you can!
Why don't you cut out|this classified bullshit!
Right now! It's giving me the shits!
We're cops. You're a cop, I'm a cop.|We're both on the same side, right?
- Right?|- Right!
Good! Why don't we start to act like it?
There are kids out there.|Babies. No brains.
But they got automatic weapons.
- Yesterday, my partner nailed this kid...|- I know about Murtaugh.
And I'm sorry, Riggs.
Yeah.
Why don't you let me in on this?|I can help you.
I really want to help you,|if you'll let me. Let me.
What do you say? Have we got a deal?
Wash your hands...
...and meet me in my office.
I'll be right there.
I'll be right there.
MAC-10, 9-mm, semi-automatic...
...converted to automatic|with 36 rounds in the magazine.
"On a sesame seed bun."
Very illegal.
That gun has a history.|Wanna know about it?
Tell me.
"Killed a convenience store clerk|in LA County, July 1990."
"Used in a drive-by shooting|in San Bernardino County, August 1990."
"Confiscated by a truant officer|of the LA School Board, October 1990."
Scheduled for destruction by the LAPD|six weeks ago.
"Scheduled" for destruction.
But it never got there.
Instead, it found its way|into the hands of a 15-year-old boy...
...who fired it on a police officer,|your partner.
I thought it looked familiar.
That gun and 15,000 others like it...
...were stolen from a police storage facility|before they could be destroyed.
They should be paper clips right now,|or license plates.
Anything but a gun. Here we are|busting our asses on the streets...
...getting these weapons out of circulation|and now they're headed back out.
By busting Phelps, you stumbled onto|something the LAPD's tried to keep quiet.
That's why Internal Affairs is onto this.|They think this is an inside job.
That's right. They knew police procedures.
They knew where the guns were stored|and how to get in.
They even knew the sorting codes|on the containers...
...because they took the automatics|and left the junk behind.
- It all pointed to a cop.|- Or an ex-cop.
Right.
Travis.
And you let him slip through your fingers.
That's closer than you ever got.
Close, Riggs?
Close is a lingerie shop|without a front window.
Do you want to go for a ride?
Sure, where are we going?
It's a surprise.
Oh, I love surprises.
What is this place?
I accessed Billy Phelps'phone records|on my computer.
He made a dozen calls to this address.
That was nice of you|to steal that information.
- Semantics, Riggs.|- "Semantics"?
I'm always up for some antics.
Let's go on three.
One.
- On three, or three and then go?|- What?
Never mind. One, two, three.
I've got you.
It looks like Billy's grandmother|owns a big dog.
It's not a dog. It's a horse.
I hate dogs, Riggs.
I don't get it.
You don't get what?|It's a dog. It's a fucking dog.
I don't get, "Close is a lingerie shop|without a front window." I don't get it.
Later.
What are you doing?
I can't shoot a dog.|People, okay, but not dogs.
I should try to make friends with him.
"Make friends"?
Now don't run, because he'll only|chase you down and kill you.
Here, boy.
Here, boy.
Shit!
Good boy.
Riggs?
You're crazy.
Want some?
Are you hungry?
You're a hungry boy.
Doesn't anybody feed you? Come on.
Here's one. Leave some for me.
Very slowly, as if you're not here,|just walk away.
You want me to go?
Yeah. This is a guy sort of thing.
"Guy sort of thing"?
Are you all alone in here?
Stay, stay.
Come on, let's go.
How many is that?
- Fifty-five.|- Fifty-five. All right, we've got eight more.
We'll get these later. Let's go.
Hi, fellas.
What's in all these boxes?
Easy, let's not kill him, yet.|Let's see who he is first, all right?
You have the right to remain silent.
Shut him up!
"Sergeant Martin Riggs."
- Get the truck ready.|- Right.
So, Sergeant Riggs...
...how did you find us?
Freeze! Police!
Another one?
We need a new fucking dog.
Get your hands up, asshole.
Get them up!
A little bit higher.
That's better.
Very good.
Drop it, miss.
Now, look!
Okay, I'm on! No, wait!
Wait, wait!
Sergeant Cole!
Get down!
Get those cases and kill that dog!
Stop!
The dog.
- Where'd you learn to fight?|- Catholic school. Forget the dog!
Here, boy! We're waiting for the dog!
Hold it.
Come on, dog!
Good dog. Good puppy. Go!
Stop!
What?
- It's full of guns.|- Grab one!
- You grab one!|- Chicken.
Step on it.
Get that crate! Come on!
{y:i}Hatchett, you said not to worry about|{y:i}the police, but the cops are all over you!
They got my guns.|They'll come after me, next!
As far as I'm concerned, the deal's off!
Get a grip on yourself, Tyrone.|We have a deal.
Nobody backs out.
{y:i}You said you had the cops under control.
I see that isn't so. Give me one reason...
{y:i}... why I should do business with you.
I'll give you a good reason.
Tyrone, this is Travis.
You back out now, and I'll make sure|only your dentist can identify the body.
Is that a good enough reason for you?
But I need ammo.
I'm out of business without ammo.
I need the good stuff.
You'll get the ammo. The good stuff.
"The good stuff." Jesus.
Time to pay another visit to the LAPD.
You look like I feel.
Have you got anything|I can put on my head?
There's a hat in the closet.
You're all heart. Here, I thought|you'd get all tender and maternal.
I was raised with four brothers.
We got hurt often, but if no bones were|broken or blood gushed, nobody cared.
Look, blood. See? Blood.
It's not gushing.
It was free flowing earlier.
Could you bring me a needle and thread?|Some peroxide. I'll patch it up myself.
Don't touch anything.
I wasn't.
What's with you?
What are you doing?
- I said not to touch anything.|- It came on by itself.
All by itself? What are you, a wise guy?
You don't like to share your toys, do you?
- This isn't a toy.|- What is it?
- This is a weapon.|- A weapon?
Used properly, a very effective weapon.
What, do you throw it at people?
You'll give yourself a hernia.|Come here. Sit down.
Right here.
- Take a little off the top...|- Right here.
Do you bring all your interrogations home?
- What are we talking about?|- It's back here.
- Careful, careful.|- Turn your head.
- Careful.|- This?
- This scratch?|- It feels like the Grand Canyon.
Oh, God.
Hold still.
Oh, God. We haven't even started.
Be gentle with me.
I see this isn't virgin territory.|What is this? A knife?
That's an ax.|Some guy mistook my head for a log.
- That's a natural mistake.|- What, I have a wooden head?
- Look at that.|- A knife.
Knife? That's very nice.
This is all right.
That's a pavement,|dragged down Crenshaw.
That's great. Look at that texture.|Look at this.
Same thing. Third and Highland.
- Dragged for about half a block.|- That's a good one.
Feel that texture. Cheese-grater time.
- Moving truck.|- Moving truck?
Moving bullet.
- Moving bullet?|- Here. This is the best.
- It goes all the way through to the back.|- Right through?
You're lucky. Was it a.22?
It's a.38.
- It's a.38.|- That? That's wimpy. This is a.38.
Yours is bigger than mine?|I don't think so.
Maybe not, but look.
A whole family of.44s on the back.
There they are.
That's impressive.
One hit my lung. I was breathing|blood bubbles. It was disgusting.
Blood bubbles. Okay.
You got one?
Pump-action. 12-gauge.
Right down here. Went through.
- That must have hurt.|- Right.
Not too close.
Riggs, if he were that close, I'd be dead.
I can beat it.
- I'll take your word for it.|- You gotta see this.
- I believe you.|- This guy had a knife.
You'll love it. He stuck it in my leg|and ran it around eight times.
- I'll take your word for it.|- Look!
No, I said forget it.
This is a blue-ribbon event.
Forget it.
You started this.
- Yeah, I can end it.|- You know what?
You're a very poor loser.
I didn't lose.
- Yes, you did.|- No, I didn't lose.
- You lost.|- I conceded.
There's a difference between losing|and conceding.
You conceded or you're conceited?
- You think I'm conceited?|- Yeah.
Tell me you lost. Admit to it.
I'll get you a Band-Aid.
- Tell me you lost.|- I said don't touch anything...
You're going to smack|the shit out of me, right?
I can do better than that.
This could be a serious ethical breach here.
I never made it|with another sergeant before.
Shut up, Riggs.
{y:i}I'm as hungry as a whale.|{y:i}Bring on the food.
He's got a sense of humor.
Watch this. This is a good bit.
I think you're gonna get on just fine.
If you could pry yourself away|from doggie heaven, I'm finished out here.
- You wanna take a look?|- Sure. Let's go outside for some air.
One for you.
One for you. No favorites.
I just have to finish the flashing here...
...and the roofing shingles|about another few bundles.
Unless it rains, it should hold up all right.
That's comforting.
I like a man who takes pride in his work.
Do you know where I can find one?
Like trying to find a cop|when you need one.
We're not mind readers.
You have to have a mind to read.
Read it and weep.
With these prices|you're promoting graft in the port.
If there's anybody|who knows about graft, it's you.
- Hi, Martin.|- How are you doing?
- Hi, Mickey.|- Hi, Rianne.
What are you doing here?
Or shouldn't I ask?
You got a sink to unplug?
- I got your sink.|- Good. Go do it.
I'll see you next week.
What's up?
Dad didn't come home last night.
He always comes home.
Oh, damn, Riggs.
What do you want?
I just wanted to see how you were doing.
Who sent you? Trish?
You're doing pretty well.|Trish didn't send me.
Rianne came to see me.|She asked me to find you.
To your place?
Well, that's where I am.
- My daughter came to your trailer?|- Yeah.
- My daughter came to your trailer?|- Come on, she was worried.
Get off of my boat, Riggs!
- Come on.|- Get off my boat!
You're drunk.
That's something you should know about.
- This isn't going to do you any good.|- Give me that.
Give me that.
Roger, please don't do this.
You got three days until you retire.|This won't do you any good.
You self-righteous bastard! Give it...
Don't do this, okay? Please?
Give it to me, damn it.
What are you going to do now, shoot me?
There.
Take your finger out of my bottle.|Give me that gun.
The bottle's going sailing.
Son of a bitch!
Not bad for an old man.
Are you finished?
No, I got another bottle in the galley|and I'll get it.
No, you're not.
Don't do this to yourself.
You gotta cut this out.
Oh, man, I'm sorry. Are you okay?
Come on. Sit down.
- You hit me.|- Cool it, will you?
Cut it out. Give it up, okay?
Go ahead.
Go ahead. Hit me again.
I don't want to hit you.|You think I like this shit?
Hit me again. You think I'm afraid of you...
- I know you're not.|...and that kung-fu shit?
Please, Rog.
That kid was a killer, all right.|That wasn't a toy in his hand.
That was a machine pistol|with twin carbines and all the trimmings.
He would have drilled you, me,|anybody that came along.
You had no choice.
It didn't happen to you. It happened to me.
It happened to me!
My God, I killed that kid!
I killed that boy.
You've killed a lot of people.
You've killed a fucking lot of people!|You don't kill a baby.
You've got ice in your veins.|You don't kill a boy like Nick.
You selfish bastard!
You selfish bastard!
You're just thinking about yourself.
What about me?
We're partners. We are partners.
What happens to you, happens to me.
After all the shit we've been through,|don't you get it?
Don't you get it?
When you retire, you're not just|retiring you, you're retiring us.
- You're retiring us.|- That's not my problem.
Yes, it is.
- It's not my problem.|- You're the only family I've got.
I've got three beautiful kids.|I love them and they're yours.
Trish does my laundry.|I live in your icebox. I live in your life!
What am I going to do?
- I don't care.|- Yes, you do.
- I don't care.|- Yes, you do.
I don't care!
Yes, you do!
- I don't care.|- You do so.
I don't care!
I don't know what I'm saying anymore.|I don't know what I'm thinking.
I had three days, and now this.
I'm sorry.
- That's all right.|- No, I'm really sorry.
I didn't realize that my retirement|was gonna screw you up.
Forget it. I haven't got any problems.|I was out of line saying that shit.
Look, man...
Riggs, look...
You know I love you.
You know I love you, Riggs.|And your problems are my problems.
Like you said, "What happens to you...
...happens to me." So try me.
I'm here for you.
I haven't got any problems.
Yes, you do. We all have problems.|You help me...
...and I'm gonna help you.
I do have a little problem.
You don't want to hear it.|This is piddly shit.
Yes, I do. I want to hear it.
- Tell me.|- This is ridiculous.
- You don't want to hear it.|- No. I'm here.
Well...
I think maybe I slept with someone|that I probably shouldn't have.
You son of a bitch!
Help me.
I ought to let you drown, you traitor.
Help me.
Come on in.
What did you hit me for?
'Cause you slept with Rianne.
I did not.
- Who did you sleep with?|- I slept with Sergeant Cole.
Sergeant Cole from Traffic?
No, not Sergeant Cole from Traffic.
Lorna. Sergeant Cole from Traffic|is her uncle.
- Okay. That's okay.|- Oh, I don't know.
Sheriff's Department.
Sheriff...
We're LAPD.
What are you boys doing down there?
- We're in the middle of a case.|- Yeah.
Of Scotch.
Let's get out of here.
Go with the grain.
I'll show you. Here.
You're going against the grain.
- Like that.|- Okay.
Are you okay?
Darryl was my friend, Dad.
I know. I'm sorry, son.
I hope you don't blame me.
I don't blame you, Dad.
I blame Darryl.
What's this right here?
I love you, Dad.
I love you, son.
"May he find the peace in Heaven|that eluded him on Earth."
"And may the scourge of violence...
...claiming the lives of our children|be lifted by Your grace...
...and infinite wisdom."
"Amen."
Wait here.
Mrs. Smithers...
Ma'am?
I just don't know...
You want to do something,|Sergeant Murtaugh?
You find the man...
...that put the gun in my son's hand.
Take your mama to the car.
Are you okay?
Yeah.
Who's got the gun?
- You got it.|- Yeah.
- Where did this gun come from?|- Fuck you!
Ever heard of the word "genocide"?|Have you, stupid motherfucker?
Have you ever heard of genocide?
You fools are killing yourselves!|You're killing us!
I'm tired of it!
You'd better tell me where this|comes from or I'll blow your head off.
I want to know, now!|Where did it come from?
Do you see this gun? I want to know|where it came from. Now!
I want a name!
Do you see that car?|I want a name, asshole!
I want a name! I want a name now!
One!
Are you crazy?
Ready?
Watch your hands.|That tire will rip them right off.
- Two!|- I'm getting excited.
Very excited.
- Your face is going to be a skidmark!|- No!
It's Jack Travis!
That's what I wanted, baby.
Three!
Wrong...
Women drivers, baby.
We're looking for your friend, Travis.
I've never heard of him.
Wrong answer.
You're pulling on the wrong string.
That's not a very professional attitude.
Who the fuck are you guys?
Sorry, LAPD.
We're doing a few routine inquiries.|Have you been checked for lumps recently?
Give me my fucking wallet!
Keep your hands down!
My fucking wallet!
Get up! We don't need this.
We have a license that belongs to Hubert|Bartholomew Smith. Nice picture.
Fuck you!
Hey, there's a lady here.
What the hell's going on here?
- Maybe they know something.|- I'll go find out.
- Want me to come with you?|- No, I got it.
Maybe I should go with her.
No, I want you to see something.|She has a gift. Watch this.
Good morning, gentlemen. LAPD.
I've got a few questions.
Are you on parole?
- I got a job...|- Who asked you?
Do any of you know a Mr. Travis?
You got a warrant?
No, but I can get one.
Until you do...
...fuck off.
That's not a nice thing to say to a lady.
Fuck you.
I don't think so.
Backspin kick.
Are you okay, honey?
Just great.
- "Honey"?|- How are you doing?
This guy's on parole.
This guy's an asshole!
- Riggs, there's five of them.|- I know.
Look at that.
Grabbed his clusters!
Let me help her.
Stay still.
My girl.
This PMS is murder.
I know what you mean.
I've been married 25 years.
So, tell me about Travis.
I told you before, moron,|I don't know Jack Travis.
I didn't say his name was Jack.
You better start telling me|more than jackshit.
- Men cross the street when they see me.|- I didn't have enough time.
I'm not your enemy, Captain.|I'm just trying to do my job.
- Have you eaten?|- I already ate. I've gotta go downtown.
- What, do you eat alone?|- I'm used to it.
It's bad for the digestion.
Tomorrow, you'll have lunch with me,|but I'm not paying.
Are you all right?
Two fingers, Murph.
- Jack, what the fuck?|- Get in the car. I'll tell you on the way.
After watching Lorna|handle herself so well...
...I'm changing my mind about kung fu.
Want to try it sometime?
- No.|- Come on.
You can't teach an old dog new tricks.
"Old dog", my ass.
Let's try something. Watch this.|It's called a backspin kick.
Pivot on the right, kick with your left...
...and you whip that head around|to catch the target over there.
Like this. Get that head around|and follow through.
Like so.
So you whip the head.
All right?
Thank you. Now you try it.
Here's your target. All right?
Remember, pivot right, kick left,|get that head around, spot that target.
- Like that.|- Yeah. Follow the head around.
Back up a bit. We don't want you|to bump into the pole.
Just back up a little bit.|A little bit more. Okay, good.
Mind and body strong, now, grasshopper.
Okay.
Go.
He can't hold his water.
Get back to work!
Okay, back to work, everybody.
Oh, Rog, I'm sorry.
Sergeant Murtaugh,|you could be experiencing...
...some transitional anger|caused by the shooting.
Do you want to talk about it?
- He's okay for a change.|- Are you sure?
You look good in red. That's your color.
- I've got a little extra time now.|- I'm fine, Doctor.
Oh, shit!
Where's Sergeant Murtaugh?
What?
It's her.
Can you tell me where I can find|the good-looking Sergeant Murtaugh?
Hi, skinny!
- Delores. Remember me?|- I remember you.
Can you tell me where I can find|the lovely Sergeant Murtaugh?
Actually, he's cowering down|on all fours right behind this counter.
- Where is the sergeant?|- He's not here right now.
But he's talked of nothing but you all week.
Shut my mouth.
The man's on fire.
- What's the matter, baby?|- A little sciatica.
You tell him Delores was here.
You tell that man...
...that he's the jam in my jellyroll.
I'll see you, baby, okay. Bye-bye.
See you.
Delores says|you're "the jam in her jellyroll".
I heard.
That's a lot of woman.
She calls me all the time.
She leaves me notes.|What am I going to do?
You shouldn't have led her on.
Led her on? I didn't do anything.
Sergeant, we have got to talk.
You've got to come see me.
We've got to work. Come on. Let's go.
- Thanks anyway, for your concern.|- Thanks, Doc. You're a beauty.
- Coming?|- Yeah, I'm coming.
Good afternoon, Captain.
That's good. See how easy that was?
I love it down here. Don't you?
This place is better than the swap meet.|Best bargains in town.
Give me the lock-up keys.
Those guys from the garage,|they're all ex-cons.
They were all busted by the same|police officer, Jack Edward Travis.
Early paroles|on the work-furlough program.
Employed by a company called|Mesa Verde Construction.
You can't go in there.|You don't have a pass.
- May I see your pass?|- My pass?
Here's my fucking pass.
- I got shot in the line of duty.|- He's with us.
- "He's with us"?|- I said that?
Where'd you get her from?
Why aren't you in the hospital?
Don't mention it.|I told you not to leave me there.
They tried to take my appendix out.|They gave me a lapotomy.
- Brain surgery?|- A lapotomy.
Not a lobotomy.|Cut your hair so you can hear.
What's the difference?
The difference is, for a lapotomy,|they shave your nether regions.
Nether what?
Nether... I can't say it in front of her.
Point to it.
- Here.|- It must be itchy.
It is itchy. These doctors are savages.
Where does it say that a gunshot wound|requires a rectal exam?
Yeah. With a telescope big enough|to see Venus.
I guess all they saw was Uranus.
That's great. Thank you.
You know what I say?
They fuck you in the hospital.|First they drug you, then they fuck you!
When they're done...
...the insurance company comes|and fucks you some more!
$10 for a fucking aspirin|and it isn't even covered!
That's enough!
We're trying to work here.
So, what's new on our case?|Anything new? You got Travis yet?
Did you guys advertise?
- He's family.|- Who's she?
- Sergeant Cole.|- How are you? Leo Getz.
- Anything you need, Leo "gets". Get it?|- I get it.
It's real estate now...
Listen, come on, you guys,|give me a break.
I owe this guy one.|Give me something to do.
You can get us a cup of coffee.
That's great. I take one for you|and that's what you tell me?
- He could check this out.|- That's all I'm good for?
We've got something for you to do.
Check out Mesa Verde Construction.|Find out all the information you can.
- Sure, I can do this.|- Can you remember that name?
Mesa Verde, I got it.
- Wait. What are you doing?|- If there's any shit there, he'll find it.
- Who is that guy?|- It's a long story.
Here are your keys, Captain.
You motherfucker!
- Don't be stupid.|- What the fuck?
Take the elevator, get the other guys.|Keys. Give me those fucking hands.
Goddamn you, Travis. What the fuck?
Stand there.
I can get faster results|than that real estate broker.
Leo's not just a real estate broker.
He's a pain in the ass|with a lot of connections.
This is what we came for.|Load everything on the elevator.
- How'd you know where to find them?|- We got it all.
The world of computers.
You used to be one of us, for Christ's sake.
You know what future a cop has? None.
Punch a clock for 30 years. Retirement.
Pension.
Nothing to do.
Drunk at noon, bullet in the brain|by evening. Not for this kid.
Police Department's got it all:
Guns, ammo, drugs, cash.
It's a one-stop shopping center|if you've got the balls and the brains.
Not a thing anybody can do about it.
You're already fucking history|and you know it.
Sorry. I'm just getting started.
Something's wrong.
The program's been accessed|by someone from the outside.
What's been accessed?
After the guns were stolen, Internal Affairs|moved the confiscated ammunition.
Armor-piercing bullets?
Thousands of rounds|to a more secure location.
- That's what's been accessed.|- Someone else knows.
Where's this store? Where'd they move it?
Let's go.
- I'm not cut out for Internal Affairs.|- That's a switch.
- Right here in the building.|- Where?
- I'm showing you.|- Something's going down.
- Nothing's going down.|- I'm going with you.
- How old are you?|- Twenty-two today.
Come on.
Have you got protection?
- Right here in my wallet.|- No, your vest, you dummy.
Should we take him?
- Okay, but keep your head down.|- Stay behind me.
Come on, let's go. Quiet!
You were my ticket in.
It's too bad you won't be coming with me.
They got it all.
- He's dead.|- How'd they get it out of here?
- I don't know.|- Not upstairs.
Elevator.
Shit. It's down.
The subway's down there.
- Let's take the stairs.|- LA has subways?
- Where've you been?|- Read something besides the comics.
All right. Come on, let's hustle!
Hurry up, guys.
LAPD! Come here!
Come here! Step on it!
Son of a bitch!
Did you see anybody or anything strange?
- Lots of cops and a bunch of boxes.|- Split now. Just get out of here.
- I'm going across.|- I got it.
Get rid of Murphy, now!
Where the fuck do you think you're going?|Let's go.
Let's get out of here.
Cover me.
Let's go.
Stay still.
Happy birthday, kid.
Another baby.
Is he dead? Check the body.
Get me out of here!
Stupid son of a bitch!
Stop that.
Cut it out.
- Don't shoot.|- LAPD!
Where does this lead?
- Pico Station.|- Thanks.
Not that way.
Take the stairs, it's faster.
Gangway!
Get out of the way!
Holy shit!
Son of a bitch!
Police!
Step on it. There he is.
Goddamn!
Put your foot down!
Police!
I need your bike.
This is bullshit.
Sergeant Riggs, call it in.|I need a couple of clips, too.
Okay, we lost him.
Where's Riggs?
Keep me in touch|with the motorcycle pursuit.
- Shit!|- Take a right, now.
Take a right.
Go!
Take a right! No, left!
This is 6-William-6.|I'm at the freeway construction site.
Where's Riggs? I'm here. Where's Riggs?
Come back to me, Central.
Where the hell is Riggs?
Take a left here! Get off!
Get off the freeway!
Stop! Hold it!
Shit!
Hang on!
Where is the pursuit?
Shit!
Relax, Riggs.
Relax?
Shit!
Just get back. Get back!
Riggs, talk to me.
Riggs, you're alive.
Don't move.
Just get back.
Are you all right?
Don't touch me!
Okay! I'm not touching you!
Don't touch me!
- Don't touch me.|- I won't touch you.
- Are you okay now?|- I'm pissed. Now I'm pissed.
- Now what?|- That bastard!
He's done this twice now. Damn!
Son of a gun,|I'll suck his eyes down through his nose.
That's twice he's got away.|Nobody gets away from me.
Just relax.
- Are you okay?|- Yeah, I'm okay.
- Are you okay?|- I'm okay.
- I'm having that.|- You quit!
I ran out of biscuits, okay?|Give me a break.
Oh, shit!
Perfect.
What'd I miss?
- What are you doing here?|- Great car chase.
- Great chase.|- What are you doing here?
- How'd you find us?|- Police scanner.
What are you doing with a police scanner?
Hello, Car 54, where are you?|I cracked this case for you guys.
Listen. Mesa Verde's legit.
They got a housing project,|called Rancho Arroyo.
- I know where that is.|- Why don't we check it out?
- That's a good idea.|- Yeah, okay.
I'll come with you.
- You're not coming with us.|- Yes, I am.
I'll take my car.
- No, you're not.|- Yes, I am.
I can't believe you did that! I got a spare!
- You're driving.|- No, I'm driving.
How could you do that?|I can't believe you did that.
Where's Lorna?
I can't believe you did that!
I can't believe it.
How could you do that to me?
Did you see that?
They're my partners.|I can't believe they did that!
Do you own your own home?
- Looks like we came to the right place.|- Yeah.
Move on out to Travis Town.
Great place to raise a family.
Built on guns and bloodshed.
One hell of a retirement plan|this asshole's got.
Let's foreclose on this son of a bitch.
- Say, is that...|- Darryl's gun.
- I've been saving it for the right occasion.|- This is it.
- How many men do you think he has?|- Who knows?
Maybe I should run over there|and ask him?
That'd be too easy.
Wish I had some grenades|or a rocket launcher.
Maybe a ground-to-air missile.
I wonder what Murphy's got in his trunk.
It's obvious Murphy|was never a Boy Scout.
Not even a good spare.
Put your hands down...
...it's embarrassing.
How are you doing?
Kissing.
Fresh ones?
Oh, yeah. Shaving cuts.
No points for those.
- How'd you get here?|- Drove.
I ran into Leo at the police station.|He talked to me first.
- Any ideas?|- Lucky thing we've got a plan.
Lucky thing. What is it?
I want it to be a surprise.
I like surprises.
Move it!
- Check it out.|- Let's go.
- Look what they did to Murph's car.|- It could've been worse.
- It could've been yours.|- Worse, it could've been Trish's car.
- On three.|- Three.
Three?
One...
...two...|- Three!
Police! Freeze!
Oh, shit!
- Let's go!|- Right now!
What's wrong with you?|I said go on three, not two.
On three.
It's always three.
Boys!
What are we doing here?|Losing our heads in a crisis?
Cover me!
Exxon.
- What?|- Count to 20.
What?
Count to 20 and then light me.
Shit!
Riggs, it's loaded with ammo!
- Cover me.|- Cover you?
Cover you, cover Riggs.
When's someone gonna cover me|for a change?
What's that, 13, 14? To hell with it.
It's the cops. They're burning everything.
Son of a bitch!
Crazy motherfucker!
Damn!
Riggs, the ammo! Get out of there!
You crazy son of a bitch!
Yeah!
Son of a bitch. You're full of shit.
Stay there.
Shit, where's Riggs?
Son of a bitch! No clip.
Lorna, no, don't!
Come on in, bitch.
The door's open!
I'm gonna eat your fucking heart!
Son of a bitch.
Shit!
Armor-piercing bullets, yeah.
Cop killers.
You're coming with me!
Fuck you, asshole!
Get up!
Get up!
Killed in the line of duty.
You'll get a great funeral|from the Department.
Cop killers.
Ex-cop killers.
Go to hell, Riggs.
You first.
Crazy son of a bitch!
Sorry, honey, I gotta do it. I gotta look.
Just hold still.
Get a chopper, man.
She had two vests on.|She's gonna be okay.
A couple of bad ones.|We need to get a chopper.
You're all right, partner. Hang on.
It's okay. Just lie still.
Just a romantic evening by the fire,|just the two of us.
Just be still.
Honey, open your eyes.
Open your eyes.
What are you trying to prove out there?
Why do you do that?
- Can I take this off?|- Yeah.
You're supposed to grow old|with someone, not because of them.
I'm gonna be with you.
I'm with you now. Look, I'm right here.
We're both here, right? Right.
Come on, I want to be with you.
What have you got to lose?
You.
Not likely.
- Hey, Lorna.|- Yeah?
Let's live to regret this.
- We've got to go, sir.|- Okay.
She's gonna be fine.
Can you hear me?
I love you.
"Happy retirement, Daddy"
"Happy retirement, Daddy"
This is it. This is the day.
Everybody? Daddy?
I want you to know there's a candle|for every year in the Force.
Yes! A lot of years.
- You have to blow it out.|- Come on.
I can't.
- Come on, blow it out.|- That's not what I mean.
What?
I can't retire.
I thought I could. I wanted to.
But I can't.
That means you're gonna|stay with the Force?
That means I'm staying|with the Force, baby.
This cake's about to explode,|so you'd better blow out these candles.
I want you to know|that I'm behind you all the way.
- Me, too.|- So am I, Dad.
It's okay.
Well, the streets will be safer|for another couple of years.
"Word", Nick?
"Word", Dad.
Blow them out!
Hello?
Hello! In here!
Hello. I gotta talk to Roger.
Oprah should see this.
I can't believe this. Okay, this is great.
What is it?
Where's Riggs? I didn't know|he could hold his breath that long.
I'm taking a bath, Leo.
I can see that. And it's cold water, too.|There goes your image.
Listen, I got great news.
Once again, Leo Getz has delivered.
Okay, I have sold this turkey.
This termite-infested dump is now gone.|Okay?
All you have to do is sign the contract|before the suckers change their mind.
Okay? I did it!
The house is off the market.
We're gonna stay in this "termite-infested turkey"|for another ten years.
- At least.|- Maybe I'll get married here.
- Come on, out.|- You can't do this.
- Out.|- No, you can't do that.
You can't do that. I have contracts signed.
Because we're partners,|no commission. Okay?
Partners?
You and Riggs owe me two new tires.
Why?
Because bullets aren't covered|in normal road hazard. That's why!
I want those tires. No conditions.
Leo, get out of here!
- Don't tell me to get out!|- Out!
Okay, I'm going.|You're lucky your wife's here.
Don't come crying to me if...
Get out!
- Termites get...|- No more!
Your friends.
Ten more years till forced retirement.
That's 3,650 days.
- Forty-nine.|- Oh, yeah.
I gotta improve my image.
'Bye, Daddy!
'Bye, baby.
What are you smiling at?
Why weren't you at my party?
I knew you weren't going to retire.
I've been wrong about a few things|in my life, but I knew you wouldn't retire.
Well, I knew you couldn't stop smoking.
I'm smoking to forget|my dog-biscuit problem.
What dog-biscuit problem?
I've been chasing more cars lately...
...and when I try to lick my balls,|I keep falling off the couch.
Jesus Christ.
I'm driving. Other side.
I've got no dispute. I just came over|to open the door for you.
Thank you for opening it.
An old fella like you|needs all the help he can get.
I'll show you.
- Who's a grumpy bastard?|- I'm a grumpy bastard.
- You know something?|- What?
When I do retire,|I hope your next partner is just like you.
There's winners and there's losers,|and God wouldn't do that to me.
He did it to me.
I know.
See what I mean?
My point exactly.
Son of a bitch!
Stay away from my daughter!
You can't be serious?|What are you talking about?
I saw you kiss Rianne.
She kissed me. She finds me irresistible.
- That's not the point!|- It was a platonic peck on the cheek.
If it's just friendship,|try shaking hands next time.
- Are you getting enough fiber in your diet?|- I'm getting enough fiber!
I'm spoken for, okay?
I'm gonna pick Lorna up|from the hospital this afternoon.
We're practically...
- You're serious?|- We've got a dog and everything.
I figure I can make ends meet.
English subtitles conformed by|SOFTITLER
{y:i}All units! All units! Code 2, High.
Don't even think about it. Don't even try.
This is us, rolling to Code 2, High,|at Verrina Place.
Shit. This time|we wait for the bomb squad.
Do you think I want to end up|in uniform again?
{y:i}20-William-12,|{y:i}the REA Bomb Squad's en route. All units.
{y:i}Those guys gonna get in the way again?
There it is. Happy? Let's go.
We ain't seen nothing yet, Rog.
- Get me closer.|- It's roped off.
- Can't see the bomb squad anywhere.|- They're coming.
Stop here and I'll just get out.
No, don't get out of the car, Riggs!
Tell me, was it the red wire or blue...
- Let's get out of here.|- Step on the gas.
They'll never believe this!
- I hope nobody saw us.|- They'll blame us.
Let's keep cool. You'd better|get your girdle out of mothballs.
They'll say, "Back in uniform again."
Ten more years of this!
{y:i}I'm too old for this shit.
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