- Hey, can we get this game going already? - Shit!
Police! Drop it!
(GRUNTING)
Get on your face!
GRILL: What the fuck I do, man?
Get your ass in here, Disco.
GRILL: Somebody tell me what the fuck I did, man.
TOM: Shut up.
(SIGHS)
Shit!
You got two strikes, Grill.
This is three strikes. Twenty-five to life.
That ain't my fucking shit. Fuck you.
You put that shit there. Dirty-ass, punk-ass cop.
Ah, man!
Whoa! Oh! What are you...
- Whoa. Whoa! Ludlow! - Shit!
What the fuck, man?
(GROANS)
Whoa! Whoa! Stop!
Fuck, man. Listen to your boy, man. Shit!
Don't you have to ask him something first?
Homie right, man. Aren't you supposed to ask me some shit first?
Fremont and Coates, where they at?
Fuck, man. Stop hitting me on my fucking head first
and I'll tell you.
Where do they fucking stay?
You're fucking crazy, man.
I don't know where they at.
Cats have been banned from the hood for a minute, man.
If I catch them slipping, I'm gonna bust they motherfucking head.
Answer the fucking question! How do we find them?
The only cats I know that know them is up in the County, man. High power.
- I'm going to book you into County. - For what, man? For what?
(CHOKING)
Talk to your friends, find me Fremont and Coates and you'll be out by tomorrow.
Otherwise, I'm gonna book you for the dope and AK.
Fuck, man! Fuck, man!
(GROANS)
I ain't no fucking snitch, man.
I know that. There won't be no jacket, no papers.
It's just you and me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, man!
Come on, they ain't nothing to you. I want them.
All right, man. Fuck it, man.
Mrs. Washington.
Can we talk outside?
Terrence had $50,000 in cash on him.
His death might be more than just wrong place, wrong time.
(SCOFFS)
Might be?
How many people knew he was talking to Internal Affairs?
My husband had a good heart.
And when he started listening to it, he became a pariah.
His eyes opened.
When will your eyes open?
Terrence always said you were the worst one.
Because with all the shit going on around you, you choose not to see.
- Look, I came here to help you. - Help me?
You came to help yourself sleep at night.
That $50,000, you think Terrence was stupid?
He knew he had a bull's-eye on his back the second he went to Captain Biggs.
So we sold our house.
We were leaving Friday for the Bahamas.
To start over.
Silly of us, wasn't it?
Anything else, Detective?
No.
(LAUGHS) Lud!
What the fuck?
- Hey. How's Complaints? - Just missed your wife.
- Oh. She was here? That's cute. - Yeah.
I got something for you.
That's for you.
- Is that it? - That's it.
Yeah. That's it.
You keep it. A nice little souvenir for yourself.
But, Tom, this is...
I mean, it's over.
Tom, this is over.
We got your back, Tom.
(CELL PHONE RINGING)
- Yeah. - It's your man in high power.
- I got that name. - Fire away.
It's this OG dude. Sell a little of this, little of that.
Drive an old-ass Cadillac.
- Name. - Scribble. They call him Scribble.
His real name's Winston or some shit. I don't know.
- Man, get me up out of here. - It's on its way.
DISKANT: I can't believe this shit worked.
Scribble. It's catchy.
I got a Metro unit tailing him.
Go get him, Disco.
- Make me proud. - You're not coming?
- Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Watch it! Watch it! - You married, Diskant?
Engaged. And I'd like to see her again.
Hey, you ever hear of something called the "cookie jar"
in reference to corruption, shakedowns, Serpico shit?
No. Why?
A complaint I'm working on.
OFFICER ON RADIO: We're eastbound on Vernon passing Fig.
Do you want us to jam them?
That's a negative. Just keep eyes on and call it out. We're en route.
Watch the crosswalk!
MAN: Hey!
There he is.
We got him. Break off.
OFFICER ON RADIO: That's a rog.
(THIS IS LOS ANGELES PLAYING ON CAR STEREO)
MAN: (RAPPING) What the fuck, nigga?
Dub-C, you better duck, nigga
Shit.
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
Hands where I can see them!
What the hell y'all supposed to be, man? Narcs?
Yeah, we're narcs.
Look how pinned out your eyes are. Taking a little off the top?
Little jones maintenance?
You need to kick that shit.
I got a lawyer. You might want to talk to him. I got his card.
You, wake up. Nothing's happened yet.
But FYI, you know you got a no-bail warrant.
I put the cuffs on now, you're locked up until the apocalypse.
Well, whatever, man. I mean, take me in right now, dawg.
I mean, read me my Mirandas.
Put your hands back on the fucking wheel!
Yo, two for two! Watch those fucking jokers.
Get back! Get the fuck back!
What the fuck you looking at, white boy?
Get the fuck back!
You really want to kick heroin in County?
Want to see the judge all sick, shitting and puking yourself?
That would look real good. And for what?
You're just a rung on a ladder I'm climbing.
What ladder, man?
How do I find Fremont and Coates?
Look, I ain't got no love for them banana boat motherfuckers, man.
But them dudes are straight monsters.
They'll put me in a box if they think I'm snitching.
I'm not asking to finger the guys in open court.
I just want to find them.
Once I do, you're out of the mix.
I ain't seen them in a week, man.
You got a number?
No, I ain't got no number. Them dudes drop phones all the time.
They call me, man.
Look man, your man making me nervous back here. Could you...
Look at me. Look at me!
You wanna see that judge or you gonna help me find them?
Look, I did business with them one time in El Sereno.
Little bitty-ass house way up in the hills. That's it.
Show me.
You expect me to leave my car in the hood, man?
Someone had a party.
Smell that?
Want me to put it out?
No. Get the murder book.
This is Fremont.
And this is his buddy, Coates.
We found them.
Great.
Case closed.
These guys have been here a while. There's no way they killed Washington.
You think?
Fuck you. I'm doing my best.
If Fremont and Coates didn't kill Washington, who did?
Who're we chasing?
The assholes who smoked these guys,
harvested their DNA and planted it in the market. That's who.
I'm with you. But why do you frame two dead dudes?
We're going to ask them.
Let's go.
What's up, man?
You know there's coyotes out here and shit, right?
Y'all been gone a minute.
You know these guys?
No, man. I ain't never seen these dudes.
Look, if Fremont and Coates call you, set up a meeting.
You tell them I can do for them what Washington can't anymore.
They'll know what you mean.
All right, man. I'll hook it up.
- Will you take me back to my car? - Sure.
(AGUANILEPLAYING)
- Have a nice swim? - Yeah.
(LAUGHING)
(CHATTERING)
WANDER: I hope you guys are playing nice with the new girl.
- Is Tom taking care of you? - I take care of him.
WANDER: Yeah? GRACE: Yeah.
How's Complaints, Lud?
ALL: Oh!
(ALL LAUGHING)
I'd rather scrape up body parts at a traffic collision.
See, Tommy falls apart when he's not chasing bad guys.
He's always been like that.
He was born without the fear gene. I could tell you some stories.
- Tell me! - No, no, we don't kiss and tell around here.
Now, I got the classic Tom Ludlow story.
When he was a rookie, I took him under my wing.
It was a Friday night, and we're in Crip City, it's a project in Watts.
Lots of dope, shootings, whatever, what have you.
So, we get this call to shut down this house party.
And Tom, he's like the saltiest boot ever,
so I figured, you know, let's... Let's give him a lesson in humility.
So I send him in there.
Alone.
(LAUGHING) And all of a sudden, all hell breaks loose, right?
They got guys coming out the doors, homeboys flying out the windows...
Everybody's screaming inside.
I rush in, I charge in, and there's Tom, busting heads.
They wouldn't turn the music down.
Tom's always gonna be Tom.
He's like a guided missile. Locks on, that's it.
(CELL PHONE BUZZING)
- Yeah? - DISKANT: Hey, so I just talked to Scribble.
Freemont and Coates, or whoever they are, want to meet us.
- When? - Tonight.
I'll see you in Vice in an hour.
I know it's late. I'm sorry.
I wanted you to have this.
And that is?
It's the video of your husband's murder.
It shows everything.
Why are you doing this?
Because I know how not knowing hurts.
When I lost my wife, she was with another man.
She had a blood clot in her brain and it burst.
The bastard dumped her outside a hospital and...
She died alone on the sidewalk.
Linda, I'm sorry for wanting to hurt Terrence
and I'm sorry for your loss.
I want you to know he didn't die alone,
and that the men who killed him are gonna pay.
That won't bring him back.
And that won't bring your wife back.
I don't care.
Not in my name.
Please. Not in my name.
Blood doesn't wash away blood.
Shouldn't we roll with backup?
- Fuck backup. - What? Why?
What do you think is gonna happen tonight?
You think I'm gonna throw the cuffs on these boys,
drag them back to the barn and write it up?
Here's the deal.
I'm going out there and you're going home.
And we are never, ever gonna discuss any of this again.
What? What do you mean?
It means Fremont and Coates never existed, and we never met.
I'm not going home tonight, Tom.
Look, Paul.
This thing you want, that you think you want, you don't want.
You don't know who I am or what I want.
Who are you to judge me?
You want to be a gunfighter, huh?
Then let's do it.
Back on the night watch, Tom?
You two keep being seen all over town.
Tom?
Did you really think I was gonna do nothing about you?
If you are gonna do something, do it now.
I know you want my scalp nailed to your wall.
But then who's gonna go where the law won't?
You, Captain?
You? You going to clean up the needles and baby parts?
No.
You need me.
All you company men, you hate me, but you need me.
(SIGHS) Ludlow,
maybe you're right. Maybe we do need you.
But goddamn if you don't need me, son.
Hey, Detective.
Did you ever ask yourself if Washington's dead because he was dirty
or because he came clean?
Swap your rounds out.
We don't want the coroner digging department-issue
ammo out of these assholes.
Use the gloves.
Jesus. These are some serious manstoppers.
So we're just gonna go in there and kill them?
No. I'm gonna ask them some questions.
Then we're gonna kill them.
Fucking time, man.
We good?
You know it's some bullshit, right? These dudes is monsters, man.
I mean, if they can't fuck it, rob it or kill it, they don't want it.
Ready?
Yeah.
Make the introduction.
All right. I tried to tell you.
(BLOOD Y WAR PLAYING)
MAN: (RAPPING) Feeling like Vietnam
Murdering Uncle Toms I'm crunk like I'm Lil John
I'm a wizard waving...
(BANGING ON DOOR)
Get the fuck in here.
You. Move to the fucking wall.
What the hell is this? You know we're cops. Deal with it.
- They cool, LaShawn. - Shut the fuck up, Scribble.
Get in there.
Yo! You think I'm fucking playing?
Get your ass against the wall before you find your brains up there.
We're here to do business. You want to feel me up,
come on and try it.
Oh, shit. You want to feel his shit?
'Cause he ain't taking it out for you.
Chill the fuck out, LaShawn. Scribble say they good.
Scribs, what's up with these fools, man?
They good, man. They cool.
Nigga, take a seat.
Get the fuck in there!
You want a drink?
No, we're good.
Man, we got the one-time up in here.
- Mmm-hmm. - Motherfucking po-po.
Is there any square cops out there?
Or is everybody out for theirs?
Everyone's out for theirs. Way of the world.
Dude, cops are like weeds.
You pull one out,
and two more fucking grow back.
Well, Washington got greedy.
Don't shoot me now.
I'm just gonna get something out of my pocket.
This is just a sample.
We're all about weight.
We can help you transport, let you know if there's heat,
let you know if you're selling to a narc or a snitch.
Or bust people and sell you their shit.
(CHUCKLES)
(DISKANT EX CLAIMS)
We all about weight, too.
Look at that shit. That's sexy right there.
That's better than pussy. That's better than money.
That ain't no Mexican tar, neither.
That's that worldwide-war-on-terror dope, nigga.
Pure Afghan, homie.
Blood, we know this cat.
It's the same motherfucker that was in the market
the day we pushed Washington's wig back.
Hell, yeah.
That was you, right?
SCRIBBLE: Come on, man. Cool, man. Y'all just chill out, man.
All right? I see where this is going, all right?
Everybody just be cool, man. We got all these drugs here.
Let's just get high. I'm gonna pour me some...
Shut your fat ass up.
That's what you here for, dawg?
You here to get some get-back for that sorry-ass nigga, Detective Ludlow?
No. You guys did me a favor.
So you know who I am and I know who you're not.
If you're not Fremont and Coates, then who the hell are you?
Who are we,
Detective?
We straight nightmares.
We are walking, talking, exigent circumstances.
Ludlow, wait! I know these guys!
(SCREAMS)
It's over, Detective!
Shit.
I'm gonna do your bitch-ass like my nigga did your partner!
Hold on, Diskant. Hang on.
Scribble, what the fuck is you doing?
Nigga, pick that gun up and blast that motherfucker!
It ain't me, dawg.
(SCREAMS)
The next one's in your dome, nigga!
Winston, don't do it.
Winston? Winston, what the fuck is that? That's your slave name, nigga?
Do it, nigga! Man, kill that white boy!
You white, man? Kill that white boy!
I can't, man.
Fuck this nigga!
I'm out, dawg. Cover me. Come on.
Hang on, Diskant.
Hang on.
(SCREAMS)
(GRUNTING)
(PANTING)
(SPLUTTERING)
(DISKANT SPLUTTERS)
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
(GRACE EXHALES)
- Let me see you. - Why are you crying?
Take that off.
Sit down, Tom.
It went bad, Grace.
I know. I know.
I should have gone alone.
I took a boy to a gunfight.
(GRACE SNIFFLES)
Why are you crying?
What's wrong?
WOMAN ON TV: In our coverage of tonight's top story,
Detective Tom Ludlow, an 18-year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department,
is wanted in connection with the shooting deaths
of two undercover deputy sheriffs in the early hours of the morning.
Officials have yet to confirm a third victim, who may also be a peace officer.
In addition, they have stated Detective Ludlow was off-duty
at the time of the shootings,
and is the only suspect in yet another tragedy...
- Cops. ...in the Los Angeles law enforcement.
MAN ON TV: Reports continue to bring you...
How do they know that? That they were cops?
I just left. It's on the news?
Did you do it?
Of course you did it.
I had no idea they were deputies. But I should have.
"Exigent circumstances." Jesus.
What is wrong with you?
Huh? Why can't you have a normal life like everyone else?
- I should go. - No. No.
You're not going out there.
This is gonna be a nightmare, Grace. I've got to go.
No. No, Tom. This door is staying closed.
Every cop in LA is hunting for you. You want to get killed?
Grace. Grace.
You need to get away from me. Okay?
You need to get far away.
Everything I touch dies.
Down on the fucking floor!
- On the fucking floor, now! - I'm not resisting!
Don't say a fucking word.
- No, please. - Shut up.
Get up.
You're an asshole. You're going down.
Killed two fucking cops. What's the matter with you?
Get that piece of shit out of here.
- Downtown's the other way. - SANTOS: We're not going downtown.
Where are we going?
That bitch of yours is fine.
- What? - So is Washington's widow.
You're fucking them both, huh?
(SANTOS LAUGHS)
- Which one you feeling, Dante? - I like Linda.
SANTOS: You shouldn't have given her the video, Lud.
What the fuck were you thinking?
You handed that bitch a death sentence.
What the hell are you talking about?
We've been watching you, asshole.
How many times were you told to let it go? Hmm? How many?
Cool, homes. Don't get him going.
Hey, fuck him! Look what he's making us do.
Smug fucking punk.
Did you figure it out, Lud? Huh?
How did Fremont and Coates make it to the market that day?
After Washington got them kicked loose, you picked them back up.
Took them to the hills and popped their melons, right?
You should be a detective. We took some DNA samples first.
Got a little hair, little spit. Voila! Fremont and Coates did it.
Who signed out the dope? It wasn't Washington.
You.
They were gonna incinerate it.
Might as well sell and make a dollar out of it, you know?
For you or the cookie jar?
You're not that smart, Santos. Who was in?
Silky? Clady?
Wander.
(SIGHS)
It's a Wander caper all the way.
He's the only one who could pull those strings.
He should have pulled your string years ago.
We couldn't figure out why the fuck he kept you around all this time.
Man, he's Jack's little pet.
Been doing the man's dirty missions for years.
Washington wasn't giving me up to Biggs.
He was giving up the big dog. He was giving up the king.
Wander played your fool ass, puto. We all have.
You're a fucking chump, bro.
Washington's killers, they really cops?
Yeah, they were.
Couple of deputies from the ghetto having the time of their lives.
And making us a lot of money.
- They were supposed to punch your ticket. - But you punched theirs.
Yeah. Now we gotta punch yours.
- Up in the hills. - Up in the hills, brother.
First, we bag your hair, saliva and blood.
When they find Linda Washington's corpse,
guess whose DNA's gonna be all over it?
And what is it gonna look like?
Like you finally snapped, just like everyone knew you would.
That little nurse of yours, Lud?
You know, I'm popping a hundred milli Viagra
and I'm gonna work that little brown ass.
Then I'm gonna break her neck.
(DeMILLE SCREAMING)
(TIRES SCREECHING)
Get that fucking cuff out of my mouth, motherfucker! You...
Get that piece of shit!
SANTOS: Fuck you, motherfucker! You little motherfucker!
Shoot that motherfucker!
Motherfucker!
(TOM GROANS)
Well, hello there, handsome.
Did you have a nice nap?
(GROANING)
Santos! Your girlfriend's getting away!
(CHUCKLING)
What are you doing, Lud?
You crawling to your own grave?
Watch me play with this fool.
(SPEAKING SPANISH)
(SANTOS WHOOPS)
(GRUNTING)
Oh!
(EX CLAIMING)
Legger!
SANTOS: Yeah!
Who's the boy now, motherfucker? Huh?
Homeboy's gonna bury himself.
Just do the fucking puto and let's go.
(PANTING)
So this is it, Lud.
- This is how it ends. - DeMille, what the fuck? Let's go, bro!
Shut up! I'm having fun!
(TOM GRUNTS)
(SHOUTS)
(GRUNTING)
(PANTING)
Where? Where is the fucking disc?
Huh?
Where's the disc?
Okay.
(GASPING)
Come here.
You're a lot tougher than that piece of shit husband you used to have.
You're getting ahead of yourself.
We're gonna be here all night.
(CRASH)
(GRUNTING)
(BONE CRUNCHES)
(CLAD Y SCREAMING)
You have to go, Linda. Wherever it is, you gotta go.
Come on.
I'm already packed.
Take care of yourself, Detective.
Where are you gonna go, cop killer?
I let myself in.
Clearly.
You all right, Tom? I was worried about you.
Apparently, I killed two deputies. Diskant's dead.
Santos and DeMille dragged me off to die, so I put them down.
Can you fix this, Jack?
Oh, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix it.
You know, I suspected that Santos and DeMille
were capering with Washington,
but I didn't want to believe this kind of shit was going on in my unit.
Yeah. Me neither.
Boss, you better get Clady up here. I need you guys.
I'll get him in the loop.
I'm gonna get him up here right now. You need an alibi.
You were sleeping on the couch after the party.
Santos and DeMille, they killed those deputies.
Not you. Not you.
(CELL PHONE BUZZING)
This is Clady's phone.
And his badge.
All this is you. It's you, Jack.
It's you. It's you, Tom.
Own it! Fucking own it!
You knew they were cops!
Those guys were so deep undercover
that they... They lost their fucking minds!
Don't mourn them. You can't mourn them.
You set me up! You sent me in to die, Jack!
I didn't set you up! You set yourself up!
I was trying to save you! You backed me up in a fucking corner!
- You killed Washington! - Fuck him!
Fuck Santos! Fuck DeMille! Fuck Clady! Fuck them all!
Fuck them all!
They're a dime a dozen.
You...
You, man.
You're special.
You're special to me.
And Diskant?
He special?
I watched a good man die because of you.
That is entirely
your fault.
Come on, Tom.
How do we get past this?
We got a destiny. You and me.
Nobody's getting past this, Jack.
Everything ends now. You end now.
(GRUNTING)
(PANTING)
I surrender! I surrender.
Hook me and book me!
There's a rover right there!
Put it out! One for transport!
Goddamn! Tom Ludlow, he got his man now!
I found you.
I made you possible.
Now you need me more than ever, Tom.
What did you think I'd do when I found out?
Wait, man. Wait.
Wait.
My wall.
It's all there. In the wall.
These secrets, they're killing us.
That's it. Open it up.
Open it up! Tear it down!
Tear it down!
That's it.
There it is.
This
is my power.
This is my crown.
I'm the king of secrets, Tom!
I know which city councilman is doing lines.
I know who likes boys. I know who's selling contracts.
I know who... Who's beating his wife.
I own them! Even the Chief is in my pocket, Tom.
How do you think that I've been able to protect you all these years?
What do you think it is that you're doing?
All these missions,
how do you think that you're able to touch the untouchables?
I'm gonna be chief!
I will be chief!
I will be mayor!
This is our world, Tom!
So, let's take it!
That why you put a hit on Washington?
Why you tried to kill me?
So you can keep stuffing money in your wall?
But this is our money.
The unit's.
Who do you think paid for Silky's defense during all those lawsuits?
Who's gonna pay for your retirement?
I'm just correcting a flaw in the system, Tom.
This is about cops helping cops.
And if a teacher or a fireman could do it,
they would do it, too.
What happened to just locking up bad people?
We're all bad, Tom.
You were my best friend.
We were family.
(GUN COCKING)
OFFICER: Drop it, Ludlow!
There's been enough killing.
(CHA TTERING ON POLICE RADIO)
I came as soon as you called.
Guess you're first on scene.
Nope. You are.
Looks like Jack's friends got greedy and came after the money.
- Is that what it looks like? - Mmm-hmm.
This is your plan, Captain?
Just sit back and let us all kill each other?
You were the plan.
No one else could touch him.
Once your eyes were opened, there was no other outcome.
Decisions were made, Tom,
- by powerful men with powerful secrets. - Captain.
They were afraid of Jack.
They asked me to help.
One day, you will pass the Chief in the hall and he will give you a nod.
And you will know why.
Because you were right, Tom.
We do need you.