Cop

Synopsis: Lloyd Hopkins, a hard-boiled American police detective is on the trail of a mass murderer who is victimizing women in Los Angeles. The pursuit leads him through a world that has become his own natural habitat - a nasty world of crime, drugs, prostitution and male hustlers where "innocence kills" and continued exposure corrupts. Paradoxically, it's also a world of love, secret admirers, romantic feminist poets and modern chivalry. And for the viewer, it's the background for an exciting, suspense movie.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Mystery
Director(s): James B. Harris
Production: Atlantic Releasing Corporation
 
IMDB:
6.4
Rotten Tomatoes:
81%
R
Year:
1988
110 min
1,005 Views


What city, please?

Yo, is this Information? I want information.

For what city, please?

I'm in Hollywood and I want to report a

murder. What number do I have to call?

- One moment please.

- All right, cool.

- Thank you for calling.

- You're welcome.

The Los Angeles police

emergency number is...

- Can't you connect me?

... 911.

911? Can't you connect me?

Once again, the number is...

- Sweat, sweat.

... 911.

Oh, man. Damn.

F***! Where's my f***ing quarter,

you piece-of-sh*t machine? Damn.

I got to call them again.

I should be home, like,

watching The Flintstones, or some sh*t.

You have reached the City of Los Angeles

Police Emergency Dispatch Center.

All our lines are busy. Do not hang up.

An operator will answer your call

in the order it's received.

Okay, yeah. I'm first.

What the f*** is this sh*t, man?

Yo, I don't speak no Spanish.

Que pasa to you, too, Lupe, and I'd like

to speak to somebody else.

You have reached the City of Los Angeles

Police Emergency Dispatch Center.

This is a tape.

This is like a computer, right?

Hello? F*** you!

Why am I even doing this sh*t? I can't

afford it. I'm down to my last quarter.

Let me try the damn operator.

Maybe she knows what's going on.

Operator.

Yeah, listen. I'm trying to report a murder

and I can't get no one.

Have you tried calling the police?

I got no more money.

I'm down to my stolen credit cards.

Can I use them?

One moment. I'll connect you.

What do you got?

On the Black Cat, not much.

I'm not getting any help. No leads yet.

What do you mean, no leads?

You got the crime and the F.I. Reports?

"At approximately 11:30 p. m.,

Thursday, March 19...

"the Black Cat bar on Sunset and Vendome

was held up by two male Mexicans.

"They wore silk stockings to disguise

their faces, carried large revolvers. "

How do you know they were Mexicans?

- They spoke with Mexican accents.

- To each other?

- I didn't ask.

- There's your first lead.

"Questioned two white males outside

residency, 2269 Tracy Street. "

"They were drinking vodka and sitting

on top of a late model Camaro...

"license, blah, blah, blah. "

These go to Bunko, not Robbery, Homicide.

"Explained the car was not theirs

but that they lived in the house.

"Partner and I searched them, clean.

"Got hot call before we could

run warrant check. "

Check these files, Lieutenant.

Sorry about that.

You know, it's really a shame...

when I know a neighborhood

better than the beat cops who patrol it.

When I was a kid, 2269 Tracy Street

was a halfway house for ex-cons.

We used to call it "Gangster Manor. "

It's been abandoned for years...

and this guy says he lives there?

There's your second lead, all right?

I was gonna hit this place in Hollywood

until I seen what was inside.

Heavy sh*t went down in there, man.

Like something out of a Peckinpah movie.

You better send some cops right away to

Aloha Regency, Apartment B.

You got some heavy sh*t

on your hands, man.

Are you presently at the scene of the crime?

This is Sergeant Hopkins.

I want that call on 2-5.

Scotty, that one's mine.

You're gonna go to the Black Cat bar,

you're gonna check with the bartender...

see if those guys spoke Spanish, all right?

- Not English with Mexican accents. Spanish.

- Spanish.

Okay. Go to 2269 Tracy,

see what you can find there.

Run to the DMV,

run a check on the Camaro...

check with R&I, see if you can find out

anything about the owner.

- You like it?

- I like it.

- Then why are you still standing here?

- Right.

You back again?

This guy's back again.

He's running a scholarship.

F***!

Jesus Christ.

Dutch, it's Lloyd.

I got a 187 at 7251 De Longpre, Apartment B.

I need S.I.D., the coroner,

and the on-call homicide team.

Dutch, I know this is Hollywood,

but I want this one.

Dutch, can you clear it for me?

Thanks.

I'll call you later.

Bingo.

You up, Penguin?

Come in, Daddy.

Hi, sweetheart.

Give me five.

On the side.

- Cut the pickle. You owe me a nickel.

- You owe me a nickel.

You had a bad day, didn't you?

How can you tell?

You always shake, just a little.

I'm sorry, Penguin.

It's a sh*t storm out there.

You know that, don't you?

Yeah.

And you know you gotta

develop claws to fight it.

- Sharp ones, Daddy.

- Attagirl.

Daddy, you owe me.

Do I?

- Yes, you do.

- I don't think so.

Please. It doesn't have to be a long one,

just good.

Just good?

You ready?

Once upon a time, about a year,

a year and a half ago...

Daddy had just cleared the Haverhill-Jenkins

homicide case, you remember?

Right after, I got assigned

to a robbery deployment...

a loan-out to the West L.A. Squad room

because there had been a series...

of nighttime burglaries at doctors' offices

in large buildings in the Westwood area.

Cash and saleable drugs

were the burglar's meat.

Now, this guy had ripped off about

$5,000 in cash...

and a shitload of pharmaceutical speed

and heavyweight downers...

in less than a month.

The West L.A. D*cks had his M.O.

Figured this way:

This bastard used to hide out

in the building all day long until nightfall...

he'd hit his mark...

and then he'd run into

a second-story office...

and jump out the window into the parking

lot, if you can believe that.

But there was evidence to point to this.

Chipped cement on window ledges.

The d*cks had figured this guy

for, like, a gymnast.

Some bullshit cat-burglar type who could

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James B. Harris

James B. Harris (born August 3, 1928 in New York) is an American film screenwriter, producer, and director. Harris attended the Juilliard School before entering the film industry. Today, he is arguably most notable for having worked with film director Stanley Kubrick as a producer on The Killing (1956), Paths of Glory (1957), and Lolita (1962). Harris' directorial debut was the Cold War thriller The Bedford Incident (1965). He also directed the actor James Woods in two films: the prison-guard drama Fast-Walking (1982) with actress Kay Lenz, and the thriller Cop (1988), based on a James Ellroy novel, which Woods co-produced. The Turner Classic Movies website describes Harris as a "veteran Hollywood industry figure who has served triple duty as a producer, director, and screenwriter".A 2002 interview between Harris and Hollywood Five-O includes discussion of his works, of Kubrick, Marlon Brando, Laurence Olivier, Lolita, and of various other topics. It includes photos of Harris and screencaps of Kirk Douglas, Sue Lyon (who portrayed Lolita), James Mason, and Peter Sellers. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "Cop" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/cop_5923>.

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