This is a true story about friendship that runs deeper than blood.
This is my story and that of the only three friends in my life who mattered.
Two of them were killers who never made it past the age of 30.
The other is a non-practising attorney living with the pain of his past...
...too afraid to let it go, never confronting its horror.
I'm the only one who could speak for them...
...and the children we were.
My three friends and I were inseparable...
...happy and content in the closed world of Hell's Kitchen.
The West Side streets of Manhattan were our playground.
A cement kingdom where we felt we were nothing less than absolute rulers.
Hell's Kitchen was home to an uneasy blend...
...of Irish, Italian, Puerto Rican and Eastern European labourers.
Hard men living hard lives.
We lived in railroad apartments inside red-brick tenements.
Few mothers worked, and all had trouble with the men they married.
Shut the fuck up!
I buried one fuckin' wife. I can bury another one.
Domestic violence was a cottage industry in Hell's Kitchen...
...yet there was no divorce and few separations.
The will of the Church was forceful.
For a marriage to end, someone usually had to die.
Yet despite the harsh life, Hell's Kitchen offered the kids on its streets...
...a safety net enjoyed by few other neighbourhoods.
Crimes against people of the neighbourhood were not permitted.
When they did occur, the punishment was severe, and in some cases final.
A drug dealer from uptown moved heroin into Hell's Kitchen.
A packet killed the 12-year-old son of a Puerto Rican numbers runner.
It was the last packet the dealer ever sold.
Hell's Kitchen was a place of innocence ruled by corruption.
My friends and I spent lots of time inside Holy Angels.
We each served as altar boys.
Everyone wanted to work funeral Masses since there was a $3 fee...
...and more if you looked sufficiently sombre.
There was a competition between the four of us to come up with the boldest prank.
Two weeks into the new school year I found the nuns' clacker in the hallway...
...and I was ready for the big leagues.
It was used to alert the girls when they should stand, sit, kneel and genuflect...
...based on the number of times the clacker was pressed.
In my pocket, it was cause for havoc.
You will be defenders of the faith...
...you will be soldiers of Christ...
...and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Well, it's going to be a great day, and your parents will be very proud of you.
When you were baptised, godparents made promises for you, and now...
Let me have the clacker.
- What clacker? - Now.
Let everyone rise.
Let us pray.
Nuns are such easy targets.
John and I spent more time in church than the others.
We were the only two to think of entering the priesthood.
We were intrigued by the powers a priest was given.
A secret world of deceit where people admitted misdeeds and vile indiscretions.
Confession was better than any book or any movie we could see...
...because the sins were real, committed by people we knew.
The temptation to be part of that was so great.
If we get caught, they'll burn us.
What if our mothers are out there and we end up hearing their confessions?
- What if we hear something worse? - Like what?
Like a murder. What if somebody cops to a murder?
Relax. All we gotta do is sit back, listen, and remember not to laugh.
Seconds later, our booth comes to life.
I, uh... sleep with married men.
Men with families.
In the morning, I tell myself it's the last time, but... it never is.
Yes?
You see, I'm, uh...
I'm pregnant.
- The father? - Huh! Take a number.
- What are you going to do? - I know what you want me to do.
And I know what I should do.
I just don't know what I'm gonna do.
Look, I gotta go.
Thanks for listenin', fellas. I really appreciate it and...
...I know you'll keep it to yourselves.
- She knew. - Yeah. She knew.
Why do you think she told us all that?
I don't know. I guess she had to tell somebody.
Father Carillo was a longshoreman's son...
...who was as comfortable sitting on a bar stool in a saloon...
...as he was standing at the altar during High Mass.
He had toyed with petty crime before finding his calling.
He was a friend - who just happened to be a priest.
Know what that crap does to your body?
Come on, Father. It beats smokin'. And it's cheaper too.
Maybe.
- So what do you hear? Anything? - No, nothin'.
- I hear you're thinkin' of being a priest. - Who says?
Word is you wanna get the feel of a confessional booth.
- I don't know what you're talking about. - You don't, huh?
- Maybe I got the wrong information. - Yeah, I guess you did.
- I'll see you later tonight. - What's tonight?
I gotta take some books and magazines to the elderly and disabled.
- Your mother said you'd love to help. - Yeah, I bet she did.
Shakes...
- ...I don't want you gettin' into trouble. - Come on. You know I never do.
That's all I wish for you and your friends.
- That's it? - That's it. Nothing else, I swear.
You know, a priest shouldn't swear.
And kids shouldn't listen to confessions.
- I'll see you tonight. - All right. See you.
Michael had the most sexual experience.
He kissed a girl on more than one occasion.
But his real love was Carol Martinez.
Half-Puerto Rican, half-Irish...
...she was raised by her father, her mother having died at childbirth.
Carol stayed pretty much to herself, but was always comfortable in our company.
We could always count on Carol to stand sentry at the Ice Capades.
While crowds lined the front of the Garden to see the skaters perform...
...we each had one eye in a hole watching 24 beautiful, nearly naked women...
...get into their skater's outfits.
This is what heaven must be about.
- Hey, Carol. You wanna take a look? - Like it's something I haven't seen!
- Oh, you're so lucky. - Oh, wow. She's so beautiful.
Oh, my... I could die now and I wouldn't be sad.
When we were young, Hell's Kitchen was run by a man named King Benny.
When he was young, King Benny was a hit man for Lucky Luciano.
Lucky Luciano did a lot of good for this country in World War II.
But you ain't gonna read that in any fuckin' history book.
There was talk King Benny shot Mad Dog Coll, that prick on West 23rd Street.
He ran bootleg with Dutch Schultz...
...and opened up a couple of clubs with Tough Tony Anastasia.
I was 14 when I first heard about him.
The story goes, as a kid he wasn't much of anything.
He was always gettin' beat up in street fights.
And then one day - and who the fuck knows why -
...some Irish guy, about 25 years old...
...he takes King Benny and flings him down a flight of stairs.
King Benny breaks all his teeth in the front.
Know what King Benny does?
He waits.
He waits eight years to get even with that prick.
He walks into a public bathhouse. The guy's soakin' in the tub.
King Benny takes out his front teeth.
He lays them down on the sink.
Then he looks over at the guy and he says...
..."When I look in the mirror, I see your face."
Then he pulls out a gun...
...and shoots the guy twice in each leg.
Bang, bang! Bang, bang!
Then he says to the guy...
..."Now when you take a bath, you see mine."
No one ever fucked with King Benny after that.
Revenge.
Can I talk to you for a minute? I'd like to work for you.
Help you out, whatever you need.
You're the butcher's kid. Am I right?
Yeah.
Well, what kind of job are you looking for?
Whatever. It doesn't matter.
Oh, it doesn't matter, huh?
Everybody says this is the place to come for jobs.
- Who is "everybody"? - People from the neighbourhood.
Oh, them.
Let me ask you. What the fuck do they know?
They know you got jobs.
Sorry I wasted your time.
- Hold on a sec. - Yeah?
Come back tomorrow if you want to work.
- What time tomorrow? - Any time.
- You'll be here? - I'm always here.
My first job for King Benny paid $25 a week and took 40 minutes of my time.
In the clubroom a guy would hand me a crumpled paper bag...
...and direct me to the local police precinct for delivery.
Hey, it was a perfect way to handle payouts.
Come on. Let's go! See what kind of cash you got in that bag.
You're nuts. You know who you're taking off?
Yeah, we know, and we're scared shitless
Gimme the bag. Gimme the fuckin' bag!
Hey! What you do there?
- Answer me! What you do there? - Relax!
- They took my money. - You took the money from the boy?
- It's in the bag. - Let me have the bag.
- Fuck you! - Oh, yeah?
- How about now? - Take it easy.
Ah, you're not smart any more! Now this make you stupid!
Let me have the bag.
- Now go. - What about them?
- You care? - No.
Then go! Run!
I need somebody with me. What if the old guy hadn't shown?
- What you need? - My friends.
Your friends? What do you think? This is camp?
These kids you can trust. I known 'em half my life.
OK. Get your friends.
Father Bobby knew we worked for King Benny, and he wasn't pleased.
He wasn't worried about the pocket money, but the next step...
...when they ask you to pick up a gun.
He didn't want that to happen to us.
- Is running for King Benny a good idea? - It pays.
- It pays? A lot of things pay. - Not like this.
Whoa!
Most priests liked to preach from the pulpit.
Father Bobby liked to talk during the bump and shove of a pickup game.
Oh, good shot.
- I found an art class for you. - You know I can't afford it.
You don't have to pay. The teacher's a friend of mine.
I don't know. It could be a waste of time.
- Or it could be the first step. - First step to what?
- Doin' something with your life. - It may help you get outta here.
- Are we gonna talk or play basketball? - Let's go.
- I got a story to tell you. - Not the one about the lepers?
- That gave me nightmares. - No lepers. Michelangelo.
He was born poor just like you guys. He was a painter, a sculptor.
He takes this job from the Pope. Good money, good work.
OK, Father. But why'd the Pope call him?
He was lookin' for the best guy to paint the ceiling of his church in Rome.
- Don't sound like that big a job. - To Michelangelo, it was.
Michelangelo needed the job cos it paid more money than he ever had in his life.
So he could pay off the loan sharks chasin' his father.
- What's his father? - He was like a low-level con guy.
He conned people out of money, goats, chickens - whatever he could.
Chickens?
- You know what happened? - What?
He painted a ceiling no one'll ever forget, like it was touched by the hand of God.
- Did he pay off the loans? - Every single one.
Hey, how long did it take him, painting the ceiling?
- Took him about nine years. - Nine years?!
That's a big ceiling.
A Puerto Rican guy did my whole apartment in two days - with a bum leg.
I don't know what I'm gonna do with you guys.
- Hey, just give us a job paintin'. - Know what it was? The Sistine Chapel.
- 16th chapel? - Sistine Chapel.
Who painted the other 15?
Outside events meant little.
In a society changing by the hour, we watched the images nightly on TV.
Young protesters spoke about how they'd change our lives and fix the world.
But while they shouted their slogans...
...my friends and I went to funerals of the young men of Hell's Kitchen...
...who came back from Vietnam in body bags.
We viewed with scepticism the faces on television...
...those protected by money and upper-middle-class standing.
A growing army of feminists marched across the country, demanding equality.
Yet our mothers still cared for men who abused them mentally and physically.
For me and my friends, these developments carried no weight.
They might as well have occurred in another country, in another century.
Our attention was elsewhere.
We sat with Father Bobby in the hospital, visiting John...
...hoping he'd recover from a punctured lung, a gift from his mother's boyfriend.
I hope you like these.
- You better not tell me you don't. - OK.
Father Bobby didn't let that rest.
- I gave on Sunday. I'm in a rush, OK? - John Reilly.
The little punk. He got outta line, so I put him back in line. No big deal.
- You put him in the hospital. - He's alive, ain't he?
Look, if he's smart, he learned himself a lesson.
What are you? About 220? 230?
- Yeah. - You're a big guy.
How much do you think John Reilly weighs?
80? 85?
That's not even a featherweight.
If this were a fight, you'd be way out of your division.
It was a slap. It was nothin'.
Well, next time you'll be meeting me.
And I may not be in your division, but I do weigh more than 85 pounds.
And you won't need a doctor when I'm done. You'll need a priest.
To pray over your body.
See you in church.
Father Bobby would have made a good hit man.
It's a shame we lost him to the other side.
We were down 7-6 in the last inning of a sewer-to-sewer stickball game...
...against Hector Maldonado and three of his friends.
Come on, Davy! Strike this chump out! He got nothin'!
Shut up!
- Who's that? - His sister.
- What happened to her? - Some kinda cancer got in her legs.
Worry about the game. Come on. We need a home run.
Come on, Davy! Strike the scumbag out! He can't touch you, Davy!
While you don't got legs, you got a lot of tongue!
- Home run. - Yeah, Davy!
What the fuck you lookin' at, little dick?
She's nothin' but charm.
Come on, Davy!
- I told you he wasn't shit, baby! - Swallow your tongue, little gimp bitch!
You could've helped her cross the street. You didn't have to throw the game.
Yeah. Now we're the Salvation Army.
Why ain't there a Salvation Navy?
Game over, losers. Cough up the cash. A buck each.
- He's no better than you. - He was today.
You let him be, only cos Irish here has a thing for little girls with no legs.
Stay away from this, Fat Man. All right?
You boys are soft like bread. It's going to catch up to you.
And when it does, it's going to hurt bad.
What happens is our business, not yours, OK?
You gotta stay tough to be tough.
Guys smell it when you're weak, eat you like a salad.
You see that street? That street is the dish of life, and you boys are appetisers.
Somebody gonna come along, eat you up and forget about you by dessert.
Take it easy. It was just a stickball game.
Yes, but going soft is a habit. You know?
You have to keep yourself mean, and cut your life around it.
All right. Calm down. It's like hangin' out with fuckin' Confucius.
Be funny, limp dick.
Look, this is just free advice from me to you. You take it or throw it away.
Thanks a lot, Fat Man.
In truth, we were all surprised by Michael's actions.
But in his mind, handing a feeling of victory to a girl in a wheelchair...
...was more than the right thing to do.
The temperature topped 98 degrees on the day our lives were for ever altered.
I'm fryin'. I say we get some rolls and sodas and head for the docks to cool off.
- Can't you feel the breeze? - We're surrounded by a wall, genius.
- The devil couldn't even stand this. - Shut up. I'm trying to get my burn.
It's 98 degrees, John.
- There is some breeze. - It's a hot breeze.
We haven't hit the hot-dog vendor in a couple of weeks.
I don't know, Mikey. That cart guy ain't like the others.
He gets pretty pissed, like crazy, when you try to take him off.
We can eat hot dogs, or we can eat air. Choose.
- Air's probably safer, Mike. - Hot dogs ain't worth bleedin' over.
- Yeah. But anyway, whose turn was it? - Yours.
- Mine? It's not my turn.
- Yes, it is. - I went last month. You never went.
- Are you nuts? I went right after him. - I'm not goin'. It's too hot.
If I walk down the stairs, I'll pass out.
Mustard, onions. No soda.
- I know you. - I look like a lot of people.
The scam was simple.
I was to walk up to the hot-dog vendor and order what I wanted.
The vendor would hand me my hot dog and watch me run off without paying.
This left the vendor with two choices.
He could stand his ground and swallow his loss, or give chase.
The second forces him to leave the cart, so my friends could feast in his absence.
Uh, I'm gonna need two napkins.
Hey, my money! Thief!
Yes!
I took it from him and ran.
I scooted past Tommy Mug's Dry Cleaners and Armand's Shoe Repair.
The vendor gave chase, a pronged fork in one hand.
These things are heavier than they look.
Genius. These are gas tanks to keep the food hot. They're heavier than shit.
Think we can push it, the three of us?
- Push it where, huh? - Couple of blocks.
Be a nice surprise for him, comin' back from chasing Shakes, not to find his cart.
The vendor tired at 47th and 9th. I was on the other side of the street.
He was beat, but not beaten.
He could go 10 minutes more just on hate alone.
Come on. Give it up.
What's wrong, Mikey?
Shakes is taking too long. He should've been back by now.
He'll be fine. He's Shakes.
You guys were supposed to take hot dogs, not the wagon.
- Now he tells us. - He's comin' fast, Mikey.
I got a plan. Come on, over by the subway.
The plan, as it turned out, was as simple and as dumb as anything we'd ever done.
We were to hold the cart on the top edge of the stairwell and wait for the vendor.
We'd let it go as he grabbed the handles.
Then we'd leave as he struggled to ease the cart back onto the sidewalk.
To this day, I don't know why we did it...
...but we would all pay a price.
It only took a minute, but in that minute everything changed.
I can't hold it!
- I can't hold on! - Come on, come on.
I can't hold it!
Stop! Get out of... No!
Sweet Jesus.
What have you boys done?
What in the name of God have you boys done?
I think we just killed a man.
While James Caldwell was slowly recovering at St. Clare's Hospital...
...we were charged with reckless endangerment...
...and remanded into our parents' custody.
- Sorry, Dad. - It ain't gonna do you much good.
Take it easy! This is no time to get crazy.
You're going to jail!
Ma! Fallo calmare!
Basta!
He's just a kid. He shouldn't have to do time.
Nobody in this family should have to do time! I did enough time for everybody!
I hear you're short an altar boy.
You still remember what to do?
Easy on the water, heavy on the wine...
...and ring the bells whenever I see someone nod off.
Get ready. We got five minutes to showtime.
I'm gonna miss this.
I'm gonna miss all of this.
I've been doin' all I can, but so far every door I touch is locked.
I could run.
We all could run.
Disappear for a while.
Nobody's gonna come lookin'.
Nobody's gonna care about us.
About where we go.
You run now, you're gonna run till you die.
Hiding's not gonna make it go away. People aren't gonna forget.
You've got to face this.
I can't, Father.
I don't want to face it.
I'm too scared to face it.
I'm scared too. Nobody's more scared than I am.
But you gotta do it.
You're gonna be OK. You're gonna make it through there.
You understand?
Come on. We got an audience.
I counted three rummies and four widows on my way in.
Plus, Fat Ralphie's sleeping one off in the last row.
It's the rain. Bad weather always brings in the crowds.
- This is one of my favourites. - What is?
"Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, you do to me."
Come on.
We never saw the vendor as a man.
Not the way we saw other men of the neighbourhood.
And we didn't care enough about him to grant him any respect.
We gave little notice to how hard he worked...
...or that he had a wife and kids in Greece and hoped to bring them to this country.
We didn't pay attention to the long hours he worked. We didn't see any of that.
We only saw a free lunch.
Thomas Marcano, the court hereby sentences you...
...to be remanded for no more than 18 months, no less than one year...
...at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
John Reilly, the court hereby sentences you...
...to be remanded for no more than 18 months, no less than one year...
...to the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Lorenzo Carcaterra.
Taking into consideration that you arrived on the scene after the theft of the cart...
...the court sentences you to no more than one year, no less than six months...
...at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Michael Sullivan.
The court sentences you to no more than 18 months, no less than one year...
...at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
And, had it not been for the intervention of Father Carillo...
...who spoke in glowing terms on your behalf...
...I would have sentenced you to a much stiffer punishment.
I still have my doubts as to your inherent goodness.
Only time will serve to prove me wrong.
- Could you do me a favour, Father? - What do you want? Name it.
The past couple of weeks, my mother and father looked like they'd kill each other.
- Could you watch over 'em for me? - I will.
And no matter what you hear, tell 'em I'm doin' OK.
You mean you want me to lie?
It's a good lie, Father. You can do it.
Come on. Let's go.
- Be strong. - I will.
The Wilkinson Home for Boys held 780 youthful offenders...
...housed in five separate units.
From the outside, the facility resembled what those who ran it wanted it to:
...some kind of nice school or university.
Michael, Tommy, John, and I were assigned to the second floor of group C.
We each had a private 12-foot room.
I'd been in my room less than an hour when the panic set in.
It doesn't take very long to know how tough a person you are...
...or how strong you can be.
I knew from my first day at Wilkinson that I was neither tough nor strong.
Hello, Carcaterra.
- Toss your clothes on the floor. - Here?
Are you expecting a dressing room?
- Now lose the clothes. - In front of you?
Let's go, let's go.
What's that piece of shit around your neck? Take it off.
It's Mary. You know, the mother of God?
I don't give a fuck whose mother it is. Take it off.
Everything.
- You want me to stand here naked? - Now you're catchin' on!
I knew you Hell's Kitchen boys weren't as dumb as everyone says.
Now what?
Get dressed.
Four guards were assigned to each floor...
...with one - in our case Nokes - designated group leader.
Ferguson, the son of a slain New York state trooper...
...was on the waiting list for New York and Suffolk County police departments.
Styler was using his job at Wilkinson's to finance his way through law school.
Addison was a high-school graduate who only wanted a steady job that paid well.
It was not a group of innocent young boys at Wilkinson.
Most of the inmates belonged there.
Some were on their second and third convictions. All were violent offenders.
Few seemed sorry about what they had done.
And as for rehabilitation? Forget it.
Hey, what the fuck did you do that for?!
- You got close to me. - So?
It bothers me.
I don't wanna be near you or your creeped-out friends.
You know, your time here hasn't taught you shit.
You're still the same bunch of clowns you were the day you walked in here.
OK. Everybody go on back and finish your lunches. There's nothin' more to see.
Go on! Go! Sit down. Get outta here.
Go on. Go ahead.
- That go for me too? - No, it don't go for you.
You go back to your room. You're through with your lunch.
Go on.
You and me, we're gonna finish this sometime real soon.
Maybe at dinner.
So, you Hell's Kitchen boys get any lunch?
I got to smell it.
You got to smell it?
That's good.
Hey, hey, hey! Where you goin'?
You said to get lunch.
Oh, you boys don't need to get back in line to get lunch.
There's plenty to eat right where you're standin'.
You can smell it.
I'm not hungry.
Well, I don't give a fuck if you're hungry or not.
You eat because I'm tellin' you to eat.
I'm still not hungry.
I'll tell you when you're hungry or not. Now eat.
Excuse me. What the fuck are you lookin' at?
Get the fuck down on your knees now and finish your goddamn lunch!
Come on now! Don't think you got all fuckin' day here! Eat.
You got some mashed potatoes. Come on, suck up some of that Jell-O.
Come on now, you fuckin' assholes, eat.
Don't be thinkin' you got all day. Hurry up. Come on now, let's go.
Hey! None of you clowns are leavin' here...
...until these assholes finish their goddamn lunch. You got that?
Hey, you, here's a piece of bread.
You can't have a good lunch without a nice piece of bread. Eat!
Let's go. Come on now.
That's good. Yeah, show the boys how you follow my rules.
Rules! You understand?
Hey, look, boys. See how he follows my rules?
Shift's over, Nokes.
No, I... I'm not ready to go yet.
I still got a few more things I gotta clean up here before I can leave.
This is my tour now. I'll clean what needs cleanin'.
Stay outta this one. It's got nothin' to do with you.
This one, I'm stayin' in.
Don't fuck with me, boy.
No, Nokes.
You fuck with me.
I'm askin' you.
You're eatin' into my shift.
I'll get outta your way. For now.
I'll take what I can get.
You boys get off your knees.
It's a tragedy. I'll tell you.
I don't understand you boys. I don't think you know what it means to have rules.
You gotta have rules and you gotta have discipline.
I don't know what it was like in your home lives...
...but in my house with my father, there were rules.
And if you didn't follow the rules, there was hell to pay.
You had rules, and you had discipline.
Sometimes it wasn't nice but... boy, we learned. We sure did learn.
Yeah, right around there to the right. There you go. Come on now.
I mean, it's a simple thing, really. You got rules, and you got discipline.
That's the beginning of the story and that's the end of the story.
Do we understand each other?
Turn and face the wall.
Now, we got interrupted earlier in the lunchroom.
But there's no one to interrupt us here now.
What do you want?
A blow job.
Down on your knees.
Face the wall.
There are no clear pictures of the sexual abuse we endured.
I buried it as deep as it could possibly go.
What I remember most clearly from that night was that it was my 14th birthday...
...and the end of my childhood.
Early in my stay, I'd written and asked my father not to come.
I couldn't let my father see in my face all that had happened to me.
Michael had done the same with his family.
Tommy's mother couldn't get it together to visit.
John's mother came up once a month.
But no one could stop Father Bobby from visiting.
So listen, let's try to keep this on a happy note, OK?
Nokes warned us not to say anything to Father Bobby.
If we did, reprisals would be severe.
You lost a few pounds.
It's not exactly home cookin'.
Sit down.
So I get to see all four of you guys today.
I loved Father Bobby, but I couldn't stand to look at him.
I was afraid he'd look right through me, past the fear and shame, to the truth.
Shakes, is there anything you wanna tell me?
Anything at all?
You shouldn't come here any more, Father.
I appreciate it and all, but I don't think it's the right thing for you to do.
I stopped off at Attica today on my way up here to see an old friend of mine.
Do you have any friends not in jail?
Not as many as I would like.
What's he in for?
Triple murder. He killed three men about 15 years ago.
- And he's a good friend? - Yeah. He was my best friend.
We hung out together. We were close. Just like you and the guys.
We were both sent up here.
That's right.
And it wasn't easy.
Just like it's not easy for you and the guys.
This place killed him. Made him not care any more.
Don't let this place do that to you, Shakes.
Don't let it make you think you're tougher than you are.
I've gotta go, Father.
I'll see you in the Kitchen, hm?
I'm countin' on you, now.
Wipe the tears off your face. Don't let them see 'em.
Don't let 'em see you crying.
Don't give 'em the satisfaction.
You'll be outta here before you know it.
You're gonna be OK.
I didn't want to let him go.
I never felt as close to anyone as I felt to him at that moment.
A number of inmates acted tough during the day...
...but would often cry themselves to sleep at night.
There were other cries too.
These differed from those of fear and loneliness.
They were lower and muffled, the sounds of pained anguish.
Those cries can change the course of a life.
They are cries that, once heard, can never be erased from memory.
On this one night, those cries belonged to my friend John...
...when Ralph Ferguson paid him a visit.
I was expecting to read 30 book reports over the weekend.
There are only six for me to read. Which means I'm missing how many?
Man, this is English class. Math's down the hall.
I wanna help you. You may not believe it or you may not care, but it's the truth.
- You got a second? - What, did I do something wrong?
No. You did a great job on your book report.
You really seemed to like the book. The Count of Monte Cristo.
It's my favourite. I've liked it more since I've been in here.
Why is that?
It's like... he wouldn't let anyone beat him - the Count.
Took what he had to take - the beatings, insults and whatever -
...and he learned from it.
Then when the time came for him to do somethin', he made his move.
- You admire that? - No, I respect that.
You got a copy of the book at home?
- I got the Classics Illustrated comic. - No, it's not the same thing.
I gotta go. I'll miss morning roll call.
Wait, wait. One minute, one minute. I've got something for you.
- I thought you might like to have it. - Are you serious?
You love the book that much, you should have a copy of your own.
- I can't pay you. - No, it's a gift.
- You've had gifts before, haven't you? - It's been a while.
Well, it's my way of saying thanks.
- For what? - That somebody listens.
- Even if it's just one student. - You're a good teacher, Mr. Carlson.
We can discuss the book in class, if you think the Count can hold their attention.
He's got a shot.
Any particular section I should read from?
That's easy. The part where he escapes from prison.
There you go, all-star. Here's your locker room.
It was only a game, just a touch-football game, nothing more...
...but a game I wish we'd never played.
Guards against inmates.
The guards practised four times a week.
Our team was picked the Monday before the game.
We had a two-hour practice.
Didn't matter much. We weren't supposed to win.
We were just supposed to show up.
- Who's the toughest guy out here? - How do you mean, tough?
- Who can talk so everyone listens? - Rizzo. Black kid over there.
Michael saw a chance to bring the game to our level, even out the field.
But he needed help. He needed Rizzo.
Black kid with an Italian name.
With Rizzo on our side, we had a chance.
Look, white boy, I don't know what you play in the streets...
...but in here, the guards call the play and they win.
- Why? - Look, man.
Guards steer clear of me. They stay back and let me do my time.
If I play in a game and hurt one of them, they might change my cushion.
I'm not sayin' we gotta win. I just don't wanna take a beatin'.
You do every day. Why's Saturday special?
Cos on Saturday we can hit back.
Really?
They don't fuck with you like they do us, but they do it another way.
- You're just an animal to 'em. - I don't give a fuck.
Yeah, you do. And beatin' them on Saturday is not gonna change a thing.
- Then why, white boy? Why? - To make them feel what we feel.
Just for a couple of hours.
Now don't try anything funny, sambo. Nobody'll get hurt. Know what I'm sayin'?
I call heads.
He called heads. It is a head.
Let's go.
You're gonna die, motherfucker. You're gonna fuckin' die.
None of you motherfuckers can cover me!
We got ourselves a game! I'm feelin' good today!
This shit feels good.
Get the fuck off me!
Yeah, keep smiling, you little pissant!
Yeah.
For 90 minutes we took the game out of the prison...
...moved it miles beyond the locked gates and the surrounding countryside...
...and brought it back down to the streets of the neighbourhoods we'd come from.
For those 90 minutes, we were once again free.
Rizzo, Rizzo, Rizzo, Rizzo...
Rizzo... Rizzo...
Hey, Nokes.
Good game.
For once, we had a victory. But it didn't last.
It couldn't last.
Then all I wanted to do was die.
I was not alone in the hole. I knew my friends were down in the depths with me.
Each in his own cell, each in his own pain, suffering his own demons.
Rizzo was there too.
I had lost any sense of time.
- Thought you'd never wake up. - Thought I'd never want to.
John and Tommy, they're on the other side there.
How are they?
They're alive.
Who isn't?
Rizzo.
They killed him?
They took turns beatin' him...
...until there was nothin' of that kid to beat.
Rizzo was dead because of us. We made him think...
...that going up against the guards in a meaningless football game had value...
...that it would give us a reason to go on.
Once again, we were wrong.
- Got your release date yet? - Nokes had a letter from the warden.
Waved it in front of me and then tore it up.
When do you figure?
I don't know. End of spring, early summer or somethin'.
Wish we were comin' with ya.
Would have been nice for all of us to walk out together.
No use thinkin' about that. We're gonna do a full year, not an hour less.
I could get Father Bobby to make a few calls. Shave a month or two off.
- There's nothin' to talk about. - There's a lot to talk about.
Maybe if people knew what was going on in here, they'd make a move.
I don't want anybody to know.
Not Father Bobby, King Benny, Fat Mancho, not my mother.
Nobody.
Yeah, I don't either. I wouldn't know what to say to anyone who did know.
I can't think of anybody who needs to hear about it.
I mean, either they won't believe it, or they won't give a shit.
Yeah, I don't even think we should talk about it once it's over. You know?
We got no choice but to live with it, and talkin' makes livin' it harder.
So we might as well not even talk about it.
The truth stays with us.
I wanna be able to sleep one night...
...and not have to worry who's comin' in my room, what's gonna happen to me.
If I can get that...
...then I'll be happy.
Some day, John. I promise.
I was in my last hours as an inmate at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
I was given four copies of my release form...
...the final reminder of my time at Wilkinson.
I never heard the key turn in the lock, and I never heard the snap of the bolt.
You should be asleep.
I just wanted to say goodbye.
We all do.
I told him right to his face.
"I don't care if it's overtime or not. I'm not workin' those kinda hours."
- Did you put in for it? - Yeah.
I put in for it. I come in early for three days. Do they give me overtime? No.
A part of all of us was left there that night.
The night that will never be removed from my mind.
The night of June 1st, 1968.
The summer of love.
My last night at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
At 8.25 p.m., two men walked through the doors.
The bartender knew their faces. The neighbourhood knew their names.
They were two of the founding members of the West Side Boys.
They were also its deadliest.
The blond-haired man had been in and out of jail since he was a teenager.
He robbed and killed at will or on command.
He's presently a suspect in four unsolved homicides.
He was an alcoholic and a cocaine abuser with a fast temper and a faster trigger.
He once shot a mechanic dead for moving ahead of him in a movie line.
The dark-haired man had committed his first murder at the age of 17.
In return, he was paid $50.
He drank and he did drugs...
...and he had a wife he never saw living somewhere in Queens.
- The Republicans will take it. - Well, we've got a lot of work to do.
- It'll take more than four years. - Till the mid-term elections.
- He's got the charisma. He'll do it. - He's our man. Reagan's gonna do it.
Hey, Jerry. What are they talkin' about?
They're talkin' about Reagan's speech.
Order those two men some drinks and put it on my tab.
And, Jerry, tell them Republicans are not welcome in Hell's Kitchen...
...and either a political conversion or a change of conversation is in order.
Sure thing.
- Gentlemen. - Yeah?
The gentleman there would like to buy you a drink on one condition.
You know the rules: no religion, no politics.
You get my meaning?
Order something for me. I gotta go to the bathroom.
Can I help you with somethin', chief?
Not right now.
Enjoy the rest of your meal.
I, uh... I ordered the brisket on a roll with fries...
...and, uh... two baskets of soda bread.
I know how you like that shit.
That OK by you?
Take a look at the guy at the table.
Take a good look.
Motherfucker.
- That's him. - Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?
Bingo.
This is amazing.
Hello. It's been a long time.
Who the fuck are you guys?
Hey.
Who the fuck asked you to sit down?
I thought you'd be happy to see us. I guess I was wrong.
You know, I thought you'd do a lot better. You know?
All that training, all that time you put in...
...just to end up watchin' someone else's money? What a waste.
For the last time, what the fuck do you want?
Why don't you take your time? It'll come to you.
- I can see how he might forget us. - Yeah.
We were just there for you and your friends to play with.
It's a little harder for us to forget.
And you gave us so much more to remember.
Can't quite place us, can you, chief? Let me help you out.
You're lookin' at John Reilly and Tommy Marcano.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, that's right.
That was a long time ago.
- So how ya been? - Yeah, we ain't kids now.
Yeah. So what do you want?
What I've always wanted is to watch you die.
Oh. You ordered the meat loaf.
The brisket's really good here, only... you'll never know it.
You fucked up.
Ah, you were scared little pricks...
...both of yous.
All of yous.
Scared shitless, but I...
...I tried to make you tough.
- I tried to make you hard. - Oh, I had you all wrong.
All this time I thought you just liked fuckin' and beatin' up little boys.
You two motherfuckers are gonna burn in hell.
- You're gonna burn in hell. - Yeah, after you.
Did that hurt, Nokes?
Jerry...
Sorry. Should have made those brisket sandwiches to go.
Jesus!
- John Reilly, how do you plead? - Not guilty, Your Honour.
- Thomas Marcano? - Not guilty, Your Honour.
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano, you are hereby held without bail.
Since Wilkinson's, we had never once spoken to each other...
...about what had happened there.
We remained caring friends, but the relationship had been altered.
We drifted together, always wondering if that moment would arrive...
...that would force us to deal with the past.
One down, Shakes. One down.
One what?
One... Sean... Nokes.
Nokes?
At the time Nokes was shot, Michael was an assistant New York district attorney.
I got a call that he wanted to meet me on 45th Street in Queens.
Then he hung up.
Hey. So what'd they say?
- What? - John and Tommy. What'd they say?
- A bit cloak and dagger, isn't it, Mike? - Come on. Nokes. They talk about him?
- John did. - Yeah?
- What'd he say? - "One down, Shakes. One down."
- I hear Danny Snyder is their lawyer. - It's temporary.
- King Benny'll move in his lawyer. - No, don't let him. Snyder's perfect.
- The guy's a drunk. - I'm tellin' you, he's perfect.
Perfect for what?
- You coverin' the story for your paper? - Me? I'm a timetable clerk, Mikey.
Ask me what time a movie is playing. I'm lucky they let me in the building.
- Get some coffee? - Let's take a walk.
I'm gonna prosecute John and Tommy in an open court.
- What, are you fuckin' nuts? - Just hear me out.
Stay home tomorrow. Call in sick and save your life.
I'm not takin' this case to win.
I'm taking this case to lose.
What does that mean?
It means it's payback time.
Look, John and Tommy started this. It's begun.
It's messy, it's not how I had it planned, but here it is.
And you and I, we can finish it.
Finish what, Mikey?
You read The Count of Monte Cristo lately?
I don't know. Ten years ago.
See, I read a little bit of it every night.
I read words like "revenge". Sweet, lasting revenge.
Payback time.
- It's our time. - What are you saying, Mike?
I'm saying it's time for all of us to get a taste.
I'm saying it's time to put an end to this.
Let's walk.
So I asked for the case.
Told 'em I was from that neighbourhood, knew their mentality, blah-blah-blah.
- They bought it. - And their connection with Nokes?
What connection? All juvenile records are destroyed after seven years.
We were never at Wilkinson's.
We gotta go after the guards, I gotta get Wilkinson's. Bring it all down.
Adam Styler. Plain-clothes cop. Works narcotics in Queens.
Known to shake down dealers for dope and cash. He's got a cocaine problem.
Other personal information.
Henry Addison. Now works for the mayor, if you can believe that.
He's a community outreach director in Brooklyn.
His sexual habits haven't changed. He still likes sex with young boys.
Ralph Ferguson. Works in a social-service agency in Long Island.
- How long you been workin' on this? - Divorced, one child.
Teaches Catholic Sunday school.
- Seems clean, then, right? - That's why I want the piece of shit.
The plan is to call Ferguson in as a character witness for his friend Nokes.
Once I got him on the stand, I'm gonna open the door to Wilkinson's.
Mike...
You sure you wanna go this way?
I mean, we buried this a long time ago.
Do you still sleep with the light on?
John and Tommy? You want them to know anything about this?
Nah. It'll play better in court if they don't know.
A "not guilty" verdict had to be a verdict that no one would dare question.
Danny Snyder was to remain as Tommy and John's attorney.
Michael's plan relied on Hell's Kitchen to deliver information and keep quiet.
Both were skills the neighbourhood had in abundance.
We'd set up a simple method of communication.
If Michael was sending, messages were left...
...for me to call my non-existent girlfriend Gloria.