Falling Down Page #2

GANG MEMBER 1:

You're trespassing on private property.

-Trespassing?

-Loitering too.

That's right.

You're loitering too.

FOSTER:

I didn't see any signs.

What you call that?

Graffiti?

GANG MEMBER 1:

No, man.

That's not f***ing graffiti!

That's a sign.

GANG MEMBER 2:

He can't read it, man.

GANG MEMBER 1:
I'll read it for you.

It says this is private property.

No f***ing trespassing.

This means f***ing you!

-It says all that?

GANG MEMBER 1:
Yeah!

If you wrote it in f***ing English,

I'd f***ing understand it!

-Thinks he's being funny.

-I'm not laughing.

-I'm not either.

-Hold it, fellas.

We're getting off on the wrong foot.

This is a gangland thing, isn't it?

We're having a territorial dispute?

I've wandered into your pissing ground

or whatever the damn thing is...

...and you're offended by my presence.

I understand that.

I mean, I wouldn't want you people

in my back yard, either.

This is your home...

...and your home is your home.

I respect that.

So if you would just back up

a step or two...

...I'll take my problems elsewhere.

Fair enough?

-What do you think?

-He should pay a toll.

Good idea.

You should pay a toll.

Listen, fellas...

...I've had a rare morning.

I'm not in the mood to--

What should he pay?

How about that briefcase?

Good idea.

Give us your briefcase, man.

I'm not giving you

my goddamn briefcase.

Motherf***er, give us

your motherfucking briefcase!

Okay.

Okay.

I was willing

to mind my own business.

I was willing to respect your territory

and treat you like a man.

You couldn't let a man...

...sit here for five minutes to rest

on your precious piece-of-sh*t hill?

Want my briefcase?

I'll get it for you, all right?

You want my briefcase?

Here's my briefcase!

Where are you going?

You forgot the briefcase!

I'm going home!

Clear the path, you motherf***er!

Clear the path!

I'm going home!

How'd they do that?

CLERK:
Gun!

-What?

You're leaving today, right?

I gotta get your gun.

PRENDERGAST:

Right.

I need your John Doe

right here, here and here.

Got time to take a statement?

I know you wanna go

before you get killed...

Yeah, Brian, I'm still working here.

This guy's a little excited.

Mr. Lee, come on in.

[LEE lN KOREAN]

What'd he say?

You know, I don't know.

Mr. Lee is Korean.

I'm Japanese, in case

you never bothered to notice.

-Mr. Lee, speak English, okay?

-Sure.

Sit down.

He'll help you. Mr. Lee owns a market.

He was hit less than an hour ago.

Sorry, Mr. Lee, no smoking.

Mr. Lee, let's just start off

with what he looked like.

White man, white shirt, tie.

-What color was his tie?

LEE:
Color?

I don't know color.

The guy attack me, okay?

He bust up my store.

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