Frank: Pecos, Texas, back in the '70s --
me and the fellas would meet up after school
and play cops and robbers.
They would all fight to play the police officers.
No one wanted to be a criminal except me.
I loved it, because in my family,
being a crook was a point of pride.
As far as my daddy was concerned,
breaking the law was a badge of honor.
Sure you up for this, son?
Daddy, I'm good to go.
Am I really the one you should be concerned about right now?
Sliger, you all right?
This is the best part -- watching them.
Where'd you find this psycho?
Man: Yes, this is the one I spoke of.
You can see right here...
On your knees, pee-paw!
Away from the alarms, everybody!
Keep your hands nice and high!
That's it!
Hurry, son! Let's go! Let's go!
I'm on it, pop.
Easy.
Sliger: Oh.
Ohh, what do we have here?
It's armed. Let's go.
Shh. There, there, don't cry.
Leave her alone. Take -- aah!
Aah!
It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
-Cash. -Look at all this.
Don't be scared. Don't be scared.
It's okay.
Drop it!
I should've let him kill you!
Come on! We got to move!
Go! Go!
Hey, Kyle.
Come on in.
You and Frank live together?
Me live here?
Please.
Okay, 'cause I was about to say
this is so not you...
Yet so very Frank.
Oh, well, we're having a little slumber party
while the floors in my condo are being refinished.
Speaking of, it's sweet of you to give up your day off
to help Frank with his home repairs.
Home repairs?
Frank sent a text saying our day off was canceled
because we had to work on a case.
That's right, trainee.
We have to work on a case of Cervezas
while fixing the hole en El Techo de mi Casa.
What the hell happened?
Oh, well...
It's -- it's kind of a funny story.
About four months ago, this house was a heroin factory.
Afternoon, ladies. -Let's see your hands!
Frank: We were here serving a trafficking warrant
when the deed holder...
Tried to give me both barrels of her sawed-off.
I knocked the said sawed-off up in the air,
and that crazy gal turned her ceiling into a sunroof.
You literally moved into a crime scene?
To get this view of downtown, hell yes, I did.
Right after the bust, i bribed a guy
down at the seized-property police auction
and got this place for a crackhead discount.
It's detective val Chavez.
- Hit "ignore" for me, babe. - Val knows it's my day off.
Yeah, mine, too.
Goodbye, Frank. I'm not your damn handyman.
Wait, hold on now.
Val.
Again, "ignore."
You're looking at this all wrong, Kyle.
No, you're not my handyman, but you are my trainee.
So think of me as Mr. Miyagi, and you're Daniel-San.
I'm gonna show you how to wax on, wax off my roof
so you can get your skills up
and kick ass in the big karate tournament
at the end of the movie.
See? This is for your benefit.
If that's val, don't answer it.
Hey, val.
Why, yes, he's right here.
Thank you, Mr. Reo.
If you could just wait over there.
Hey, Frank. -Don't, "hey, Frank," me.
I know I'm a dinosaur,
but we got to bridge this generation gap.
Rule one -- unless it's an absolute emergency,
never ever call me in on the most sacred of holy days,
my god-given day off.
Amen. Hey, don't get your chonies in a bunch, Francesca.
It wasn't my call.
You see that guy there?
Name's Mike Reo.
He's the proprietor of this shop,
and when he's not peddling overpriced rocks,
he's playing golf with his local city councilman.
That's who wants you working on your day off, not me.
Fine. Take us through the robbery.
Three suspects --
two blow the safe in the back
while the third covers the front.
Gets a little handsy with that clerk over there, Michelle.
But the idiot pulls off his glove to do it
and reveals a tattoo on his left hand --
black widow spider.
I'll run it through the database.
Maybe we'll get lucky.
So, the guard decides to go for his backup.
Suspect two comes out.
Bang -- the guard dies instantly.
Frank:
This has a southeast stamp on it.
Guard was a cop?
Gus Ochoa -- 30 years on the job.
Spoke with his wife.
Said he went stir crazy in retirement.
He only took the guard job so he could protect and serve.
Didn't even need the money.
Kyle: Survived three decades working in watts
only to be gunned down in a Westwood Jewelry Store.
What a waste.
"Waste"?
He was a south-end gunfighter who died in a gunfight.
Hell, I'll take a Blaze of glory
over bed sores in a nursing home any day.
I'd say Gus went out the way he wanted to.
Daddy.
Ranger's asking for you.
Afternoon, Sam.
You thirsty? No, no.
I'm on duty, Emmet.
Home repairs, huh?
Yeah. Roof sprung a leak.
Truth is, I don't mind a few raindrops
falling on my head,
but a child needs proper covering.
You hear about this rash of armed robberies...
Going around downtown? -Whew!
You talking about the stickup man
Pecos Police can't seem to catch?
Sam: Yeah, well, they don't have to.
The Texas rangers are on the case now.
Just a matter of time before that Jackeroo
wins free room and board at the Huntsville Penitentiary.
I'm a two-time graduate of that fine correctional institution.
One more stay, and I'll earn my PhD.
Well, here's the deal --
so far, no one's been hurt -- praise god --
so if this stickup man retires,
I mean for good,
I'd be willing to let bygones be bygones
for old time's sake.
You ain't gone soft on me, Sam.
Well, maybe I'm being amenable
because this bandit might be a widower
trying to raise a young boy.
A fine young man needs proper covering.
You know, Emmet, they say that pride is the sin of all sins,
and I must confess to a certain pride
bringing bad men to justice,
but, uh, there'd be no joy
in shipping a good boy off to foster care.
Not if there's another way.
You know what, Sam?
I got a feeling you ain't gonna have
any more troubles from that bandit.
I sure hope so.
Well, best of luck mending your roof.
Mm.
You really gonna stop pulling robberies?
Daddy, if you go back to Huntsville,
what happens to me?
Ain't nobody gonna put me back in a cage.
So if that self-righteous son of a bitch
ever tries to take me down, well, Frank,
I'll send him home
to that savior he's so fond of.
Kyle: Frank?
Frank. -Hey. Still with us?
-What? -Everything all right?
A member of the family is dead on the floor,
so you tell me if everything's all right.
Hope you brought your ass-kicking shoes, trainee.
You're gonna need them.
What do you got, ladies?
There's only one lady here,
and she's got pretty blue eyes and a beard.
Oh, so you like my baby blues?
Frank: I'm pressing the "pause" button
on this little after-school special of yours.
We got a retired cop in the morgue.
Now, where are we?
We I.D.'D the suspects using their silicone-mask M.O.
Matched it to a series of hold-ups across the U.S.
Came back to two cowboys out of Oklahoma,
Henry Hollister and his 17-year-old son, Bobby.
Only no one's been able to make a case stick against these guys.
They're smart -- never leave evidence,
never stay in the same town more than a week.
And they're unplugged completely --
no cellphones, no e-mails,
no credit cards, no bank account.
Like they stepped out of a time machine.
So, who's the third guy?
No idea. Feels local, though.
This was their first major heist.
Looks like up to now
it's just been liquor stores and supermarkets.
My guess is Henry brought in local talent
to act as training wheels for his son.
Bet he's regretting that now.
See there?
Henry wouldn't let his son take the kill shot.
Henry's paternal instincts kicked in.
He's protecting his boy.
Henry knows taking a life changes you.
No man wants that for his son.
Henry: Hmm.
Rule number one -- come out richer than you were going in.
Rule number two -- don't forget rule number one.
What? You still pissed about offing the old man?
He went for his burner. You had to put him down.
Only because you weren't about your business in there.
But guess what, Sliger -- you're out.
Divvy up the loot here and part company.
Fine. Fine.
But then again...
Jewels always split better one way than they do three.
Mister, take that gun off my daddy.
Bobby, do not pull that trigger. Listen to him, kid.
Come on, even if you score a head shot,
there's probably still enough juice left in here
to send one last message to my finger.
Boom.
Sliger, do me a favor.
Tonight, have yourself a real fine time.
I mean it, man.
Go full Charlie sheen.
'Cause tomorrow morning...
You're dead.
Well, we're nice and screwed now, pop.
This is all we got.
He's re-watched that like a dozen times.
What's wrong with him? -Not a damn thing.
He's scouting out the other team. Just getting in their heads.
But seriously,
what the hell's wrong with Frank?
-Find something? -Bobby's a good kid.
Not the ice-cold operator his dad is.
Look how he reacts when his father kills the guard.
Yeah.
That kid still has a chance.
How could you possibly know that?
Aren't you supposed to be trying to identify
the suspect with the black widow tattoo?
I already did.
How'd you do it that fast?
Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm good.
Pored through photos of tattoos from parolees.
Found several with black widow tats
on left hands, but only one with a rap sheet
filled with high-end, armed robberies.
Name's Leon Sliger.
Just got off with his parole officer.
She says he hasn't checked in for weeks,
and his current address and cellphone are bogus.
Did the parole officer give you anything we can check him with?
Only that Sliger never uses his real name,
always an alias --
Luther Kelly Jr.
Okay, I'll cross-reference Sliger's alias
with motels, flophouses, snitches.
It might take some time, but if he's using it,
I'll ferret him out.
Fire off a flare when you do.
We'll be at my place fixing the roof.
Right, Kyle?
Sure, I'll meet you there.
Only I might be a little late,
so go ahead and get started without me. Frank: Really?
Just gonna leave me with a hole in my house?
And I hope it rains.
He's getting a little too cocky. I know.
I like that.
What?
What's wrong with you?
High cholesterol, anger issues,
excessive drinking,
probably a personality disorder or two.
Come on, something's up. Talk to me.
You know what would help?
If you gave me a hand fixing my roof.
Hire a contractor, you cheap ass.
Mrs. Craig: Mmm, I am good.
This étouffée is on point.
Hey, come on.
No work at the supper table.
I know this is your house,
but when I come over to cook, it's my rules.
Yes, ma'am.
Are these your father's old files?
Water street, Boyle Heights...
Kyle, please, you can't look into this any further.
Why, ma? What do you know?
I know that whatever that is, it killed your father.
And I see you. You're acting just like him --
up all night, looking for breadcrumbs.
And then, by morning, you're out doing god knows what
with that damn Frank Rourke. -I know.
I know, you don't like me working with Frank.
I get it.
Food's on the table.
Thanks, mom.
Frank's not as bad as you think.
Your father told me where Frank comes from...
Who he comes from.
He's got evil in his blood, Kyle.
You don't believe me, do your research.
Look it up for yourself.
Hey.
Come to bed, Frank. It's late.
Ah.
Is this your father?
And look at you.
Wow, what a cutie.
How old?
13.
How come you've never shown me these before?
Because I don't like to live in the past.
You know, you never talk about your dad...
Your family.
Why? Why?
I'll tell you why.
'Cause there are a lot of nooses on my family tree.
Rourke men have a long history
of being crooks, cheats, liars, thieves.
My daddy was no exception.
That must've been hard growing up.
Folks called him a disgrace on account he brought me up
in the family business.
Only what none of the good people
of Pecos, Texas, understood
was that my daddy did it out of love.
He was raising his boy to survive
the only way he knew how.
Emmet: Come on, let's go!
Hand me my tools.
-You sure about this? -Of course.
Just some quick cash to tide us over,
and then we'll pack up, head to the Gulf, do some fishing.
Don't that sound good?
Let me pull this robbery with you.
I won't let you down, daddy. I can do it.
Oh, I know.
You're the best crime partner I ever had.
Your time will come.
But as for today, i need you to stay in the car
while I go and do what I do best, all right?
One more thing, son --
once we get there, don't you blink,
'cause I'll be back in...
Two shakes of a lamb's tail. ...Two shakes of a lamb's tail.
I hate Burbank.
Too many amphetamine-snorting yipsters
running late for Bikram Yoga.
It's like a damn demolition derby.
So, what am I doing here?
Tracked Sliger's alias. He checked in last night.
Considering this is your case,
thought you might want to be present for the take down.
He's in room number 9.
Ladies, shall we?
-Ugh. -Let's go.
- Henry! - No, please.
-Drop the gun! -Down on the ground!
One in the window!
Henry: Go! Go!
for the last time, Sliger,
where's Henry and Bobby Hollister?
Cram it, moon doggy.
Pull the blinds, Tommy.
We'll get him to talk the old-fashioned way.
Hands off my client, detective, or I'll have you up on charges!
My bad, counselor.
I tripped.
-Who are you? -Your Ace in the hole.
Name's Roy styles,
your court-appointed public defender.
Don't worry -- I'll have you out of here in time
for a happy-hour lap dance at crazy girls --
two for one.
I demand a post-haste hearing to determine the legality
of the search warrant which led to Mr. styles' wrongful arrest.
Not so fast.
So we meet again, Mr. styles.
Who the hell is he?
Assistant district attorney Ronny Cochrane,
cousin of you know who, may he rest in peace.
He has a perfect conviction record.
This is bad. -It is?
The good news is I don't care about your client, styles.
I want Bobby and Henry Hollister.
The bad news is I'm cutting you loose.
Wait, uh, why is that bad news?
You're a tethered goat, Sliger.
We're gonna stake you out there in plain sight, sit back,
and wait for Henry to try to kill you again.
Using my client as -- as bait?
That's outrageous. My god, you're animals.
He'll never make it out alive. -Not my problem.
Have a nice day. -Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
Do something, damn it! -M-Mr. Cochrane.
How about we make a deal?
My client admits his guilt
and gives up everything he knows about the Hollisters...
I'm listening.
...in exchange for full immunity.
You hear me, Mr. Cochrane?
We want a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Fine, Mr. styles.
Man, you're the best mouthpiece I ever had.
- Not so fast, Sliger.
First, you got to sing for your supper.
Tell us where we can find Henry and Bobby.
I got no idea. I swear.
But I do know they have another score lined up,
and it's going down tonight.
-Where? -Well, we had our little
falling out before he gave up the details.
All I know is that Henry said
we had to hit that jewelry store first,
and only then could we pull the second score tonight.
Almost, I don't know, like one was the key to the other.
Hold up -- you're saying the jewelry store's connected
to the second heist?
Thanks for all your help.
Got to admit, it was nice working
with law enforcement for once.
Oh, well, good.
Then you won't mind hanging out for the next 15 to 20.
Let's go, Sliger.
If we hurry, you'll make it to county
before they run out of their famous
cheese-like-substance sandwiches.
What the hell? What -- I've got immunity.
Frank: Sorry, homey. You just got okeydoked.
Didn't he, Mr. Cochrane?
He sure did, Mr. styles.
Don't give us the hairy eyeball.
We're surprised you fell for it.
I almost feel bad for the guy.
-Yeah, right. -Hey, check this out.
I found a discrepancy
with the merchandise recovered from the heist.
12 hand-crafted, diamond-encrusted poker chips.
That jewelry store owner made no mention of those
on his inventory.
Got to be worth 2 G's each easy.
No way that guy just forgot to report losing this much ice.
Son of a bitch.
I just might have an idea what's going on.
Thanks for coming in, Mr. Reo.
How you holding up?
Not well.
I can't get Officer Ochoa out of my head.
His blood's smeared all into the carpet.
Gus deserved better.
Cheer up. It's not all bad news.
Look, we got your jewels and your money back, and...
Even your handcrafted poker chips.
I...
I've never seen those before.
Sure? Here.
Frank: Take a closer look.
Look familiar now?
Do you have any idea who I am?
The people I know?
You three are done.
I'm gonna have your jobs.
Mr. Reo.
If these chips have anything to do
with officer Ochoa's murder and you stay silent,
then his blood is gonna be on more
than just your nice carpet.
It's gonna be on your hands.
Let us help you.
Why did you leave these chips off of your inventory?
They're part of a monthly order for a special client,
one who pays extra to keep his name off the books,
the kind who'd skin my hide for shoes
if he thought i was even talking to you.
This insignia's familiar,
but I need you to confirm it for me.
Who did you make these for?
Who's the special client?
Jacques de Leon.
Jacques de Leon,
A.K.A. Jacques the ripper --
worst kind of predator.
Skewers victims for the smallest offenses.
Uses knives, axes --
anything with a razor-sharp edge.
Runs an underground poker game.
Different location every week.
Jacques hands out these chips to his rich criminal friends
to be used as single-person entry passes
to these poker matches.
A lot of cash at those games.
That's got to be Henry's second heist.
But Henry and Bobby must've called the heist off.
I mean, they don't have any of these 12 poker chips.
12 poker chips?
No -- 13.
Jacques always orders a Baker's dozen.
So, even if they have that 13th chip,
it means only one of them can get into Jacques' poker game.
Tough odds, even for a cowboy like Henry.
So, will Henry walk away or take down the score?
Henry and Bobby.
You always talk about apprehending Henry but never Bobby,
as if he's some innocent bystander in all this.
No. He's just a kid.
Like you were?
I see someone's been Googling old newspaper articles.
We're not hunting your father.
You realize that, right, Frank?
Sorry to disappoint, trainee, but that comparison's
about as smart as farting in a space suit. Fine.
But you once told me a good cop uses
their own experience to outwit perps,
so tell me this --
what would your father do if you were in Henry's shoes,
skip town and make a run for it
or stay back and risk it all to rob that poker game?
My daddy? Shoot.
My daddy would never leave cash on the table.
Woman: I think something's going on in the pawn shop.
-All right. -Be careful.
Now, Emmet, we can go ahead and close each other's eyes,
or you and me can just talk.
I know that's you under there.
Come on, Emmet.
Let's talk.
Worst part of my line of work.
Masks are so damned hot.
This doesn't have to end badly.
Well, sure it does, Sam.
'Cause I ain't never going back.
No!
Daddy?
Now, if I'm right...
And I'm always right,
Henry and Bobby are gonna try to take down Jacques' game tonight.
Well, then, we need to get there first,
pop those cowboys when they show up.
So, where's Jacques' game?
How the hell am I supposed to know?
Aren't you on a first-name basis
with every lowlife, degenerate criminal in the country?
Well, yeah.
With Jacques the ripper, I'm persona non grata.
Remember the lady who put a hole in her roof -- now my roof?
Not even a kiss first?
Frank: It just so happens, at the time,
she was dating Jacques the ripper.
Well, that's just great. Relax, rookie.
There are other ways to locate the poker game.
Wouldn't Jacques need to launder the proceeds
from his casino night?
We all know there's only one person he'd have clean his cash.
Who?
welcome to 38th parallel garments, inc.,
k-town's very own DMZ
smack dab in the middle of the neighborhood.
looks like he ate Olivia Newton-John for dinner?
he's sure as hell no singer.
Hey, Frank. What's up?
Tiny Tim, disco's bad enough without you weighing in.
Cop, please, disco is forever,
and Cher is a god.
Now, what do you want?
We need to talk.
Roll with me.
Frank, you're, like, my favorite morally ambiguous cop,
but no way I'd narc on Jacques the ripper.
I understand you're afraid, tiny.
The question now is who are you more afraid of,
Jacques the ripper or Roscoe the executioner.
Who's Roscoe the executioner?
What's with all the hostility?
Relax.
Now, where's the poker game?
do you hear how bad you sound?
Last chance to boogie, oogie, oogie.
Where's Jacques' game?
I just told you.
MacArthur park.
You might want to be more specific.
All I know is that Jacques said
the game would wrap up around 3:00
and that it'd only take them 10 minutes
for them to bring over the cash
because they were close by in MacArthur park.
This is it.
Hey, m-maybe I should take point on this one.
And why would I do that?
What are you trying to say, Kyle, huh?
That when it comes to trigger time, i won't pull on Henry,
I'll be too busy humming the chorus
to "cat's in the cradle," longing for one last game
of catch with dad and my aim won't be true?
All I'm saying is that -- trainee, if you learn anything riding next to me,
let it be this --
never question if I'll take down a target in my sights.
I kill because it's my nature to.
An ambulance is on its way, ranger.
All right.
Ain't no need for that, now, is there?
You go be with your daddy now.
This is all my fault, daddy.
No, no. You did good.
You rushed in at the first sign of trouble.
That's how us Rourke men do it.
Look at me, Frank.
This is the part where I'm supposed to say,
"son, don't follow in my footsteps,"
only I just can't do that.
Your great-grandfather, he robbed trains.
Your granddaddy took down banks.
And your daddy...
Well, you know what your daddy did.
And he don't regret one damn day of it.
But here's the rub --
it always ends like this.
Rourke men never die of old age.
Quit crying.
Don't shed no tears. There you go.
Get mean.
If you remember anything I ever taught you,
remember that.
One more thing --
don't you blink, 'cause I'll be back in...
Two shakes of a lamb's tail. ...Two shakes...
Kyle: Frank? Frank?
With me there, Frank?
Keep your eyes on a swivel.
They're out here. I can feel it.
Yeah?
What do you want?
Follow me.
Sir, I need to inspect your buy-in.
What do you got in your pants?
You hitting on me, mister?
Kidding. Here, let me show you.
Hell's all this?
Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to stand and deliver!
Your money or your life?
That's it.
Who else wants to go all in? You?
Fill her up, Hoss.
Don't have to be neat, buddy. Throw it in there.
Double time.
Gracias.
Well, you must be Jacques.
And you must be a dead man hitting my spot like this.
Wait, what's that on your nose?
- Aah! - Blood.
Have a nice evening, folks.
That's Bobby. Here we go.
-Hey. -Nice work, pop.
Here you go, buddy. I'm gonna secure the door. All right.
Bobby?
Bobby, look out!
Aah!
Evening, Henry.
Well...
I guess this is what they call a Mexican standoff.
Now, the way I see it,
we can go ahead and close each other's eyes,
or...
You and me can just talk.
Frank, what are you doing?
How about it, Henry?
Let's talk.
Henry, you don't have to die here.
Considering your pistol's at your side,
I reckon you'll be the one in the bone orchard come Sunday.
Sure, you can kill me, but, see, the guy at my 6:00?
You got him? In my sights ready to execute.
That's Kyle Craig, former U.S. marine.
Could shoot a pimento out of an olive at 25 yards.
He'll have no trouble making your funeral
a closed-casket service.
But you'll be dead right along with me, lawman.
I'm fine with that --
Blaze of glory, killed in the line --
only what about your son?
He'll be convicted of those robberies,
plus do time for the killing of that jewelry-store guard
and the slaying of a cop.
That is, if you pull that trigger. So what?
You gonna offer me a reduced sentence?
I know you can't make deals.
You don't have the power.
No, but I have my word, and I'm giving it to you.
Surrender now.
I'll cash in some IOU's at the D.A.'S office.
You'll get life without parole.
Bobby will be out in 10. Don't do it, pop.
Henry, that's your only son behind me,
your final mark on this world.
And right here, right now, you've got one last chance
to give him something to build on.
Please, give Bobby a better life.
You look me in the eye, lawman.
Are you a man of your word?
It's the only good thing i got left.
Pop! Pop!
Hey, Rourke!
Pop!
Henry:
Don't worry. I'll keep my word.
Kyle, let the kid come to his father.
Pop. Pop.
-Bobby. -Come on, g-get up.
Uh, give us a moment.
Glad you're still here, ranger.
-Is that a fact? -Yep.
'Cause I want you to know something.
You're a dead man.
Not today,
but sooner or later, I'm gonna kill you.
No, you're not.
Let me tell you what you are gonna do.
You're gonna do exactly as I say,
so pay real close attention, kid.
'Cause I'm only gonna speak this once.
So, what's all this about --
you hooking up Jesse James Jr. with a reduced sentence?
This is my case, Frank. That's my call.
You know I got juice at the D.A.'S office, too, right?
And I'll wager a bottle of whatever moonshine
you put yourself to sleep with every night
that my contact outranks yours.
Well, first off, moonshine comes in jugs,
not bottles, and second, go ahead.
Be a complete prick and trump my play...
...Or shake my hand and say,
"Frank, thanks for calling up on my case."
Choice is yours.
Next time, check with me first.
I hope he's worth it.
Hey, guys, give me a sec, will you?
What do you want?
For you to do exactly what I say,
so pay close attention, kid,
'cause I'm only speaking this once.
You're about to be sent into a den of hyenas,
where most men come out feral beasts
stripped of their humanity, but not you.
Do your time with your head down and your mouth shut.
Don't join a gang. Don't hustle on the side.
Swear to that, and I'll Shepherd you through.
Why would you do that for me?
'Cause we're both our father's sons.
But that doesn't have to define us --
not you and not me.
Good luck, Bobby.
Sun's gonna be up soon.
We should probably head over to your house then.
Why?
Well, you don't suck, trainee.
I help you fix your house,
and that's the nicest thing you can say?
I'm not talking about your roofing skills.
Truth is, as a carpenter, you're crap.
But being a cop, you don't suck.
I've been meaning to ask you a question.
I uncovered your old foster-care records.
Said your foster father was Sam O'Keeffe,
the Texas Ranger who took you and your father down.
Waiting for a question, Kyle.
Seems like you got all the answers.
What was that like,
being raised by the cop who killed your old man?
That was a long time ago.
It's all a blur now.
Sam still around?
Nope. Killed in the line of duty.
Sorry.
Go out in a Blaze of glory?
Damn straight he did.
Just like your old man.
To ranger Sam O'Keeffe.
To Detective Billy Craig.
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