Beyond the Law

---

Morning, Harold.

You're still alive ?

[ gunshot ]

[ shouting ]

[ siren wailing ]

You look like hell, Slick.

Have a rough night ?

Dispatch said there were shots fired.

Crazy bastard in the rocks.

Chucked a couple of shots

at the dozer.

He almost killed me.

Who is he ?

An old Apache.

They call him Bogus Charlie.

Thinks he's a medicine man.

Says we're rapin' his mother

by pokin' holes in the earth.

You got any ideas ?

Well, he's only shot at the dozer,

but he could change his mind.

I had to call in the state police.

They'll be here any minute now.

What the hell are you doing ?

Takin' a walk.

That's f***in' nuts.

Maybe.

Hey, Roy ? You better get

the hell outta here.

[ cocking rifle hammer ]

How ya doin' ?

Never better.

You know, I was thinkin'.

If you gave me that rifle and offered

to pay for the damage,

I could say you were out here hunting

and hit the equipment by mistake.

You want jerky ?

We don't have time. The state cops

will be here in a few minutes.

- So if you'll just give me that rifle.

- Sit down.

Whatever you say.

You don't look so good, kid.

Something bothering you,

something inside, right ?

Are you gonna

give me the rifle ?

You know, my grandfather

told me a story once...

About a young brave

who got scared of his shadow...

and ran away from it.

Look--

I told you, sit still.

Anyway,

This young brave found out he was

only half a person without his shadow,

but to get it back...

he had to go down into a dark hole

where only shadows live.

Problem was,

anybody went down there...

never came back.

[ sirens wailing ]

You've just run

out of time, old man.

If you give me the rifle right now,

we can still keep you out of jail.

Somethin' else

my grandfather told me...

a true Apache had to do

when surrounded...

and outnumbered by crazy white men.

- What's that ?

Give the f*** up.

So, you gonna tell me

what's bothering you ?

Nah. I just haven't been

able to sleep much lately.

Kelly, ain't it ?

I know it is. Been on you like

sh*t on a shovel.

- You oughta be more careful around him.

- He's an a**hole.

But he is the f***ing boss.

There.

- What the hell is this ?

- Well, open it up, find out.

- You wrap this yourself, Butch ?

- Sure did.

I guess I'll have to keep it,

whatever the hell it is.

I had that when I was a little kid.

Thought it might cheer you up

if you played with it for a while.

You're a very strange and crazy

old man, you know that ?

I do.

I sure know that.

[ beeping ]

Gotta go.

Why don't you lay out, turn

the radio off and get some rest.

I'll cover for you, Slick.

- That's what partners are for.

- Thanks, Butch.

Adios.

[ man ] You son of a b*tch.

You're just like your mother.

[ crying ]

It's in your f***in' blood !

[ voice echoing ]

[ sighing ]

[ siren wailing ]

[ police radio, indistinct ]

Why did you stop me ?

Huh ?

Why did you stop me ?

For speeding.

- I wasn't speeding.

- Yes, you were.

- No, I wasn't.

- I'm afraid you were.

May I see your license, please ?

You have a nice face.

- Excuse me ?

- Good bones.

Where you goin' in such a hurry,

miss Jackson ?

- What difference does that make ?

- I'll ask the questions, okay ?

Okay. I'm going to the campground.

- All this photo equipment yours ?

- Of course not.

That's why I'm carrying it

around with me.

- You don't have to be a complete smart ass.

- You gonna write me a ticket ?

Get outta here !

Now !

This is car number 50.

[ chuckling ]

We'll take care of all the

damages, plus ten percent.

And, um, put a little somethin' extra

in there for you, Kelly.

Hoo, hoo, hoo, yeah !

You did !

[ laughing ]

- I appreciate that, man, I really do.

- I know you do.

Now if there's anything else

we can do for ya,

anything at all.

- Aw, forget it.

You're in my f***in' way.

Who in the hell was that ?

His name's Blood.

He runs that bunch.

- I got a bone to pick with you, Saxon.

- That's a surprise.

I heard about

what you did this morning.

Where do you get off riskin' your ass

over some worthless, drunken Indian ?

- He wasn't drunk.

- All indians are nothin' but drunks, tit-head.

Look at me when I'm talkin' to you.

You f***in'...

crazy, stupid son of a b*tch !

- You're f***in' fired.

- Bob, don't do that.

Shut the f*** up, Butch, or I'll fire your ass too !

Is that what you want ?

- That's your call, sir.

- You're damn right !

Come on.

[ knock at door ]

- Yeah ?

- I'm Conroy Price, Mr. Saxon.

Special investigator of division

Arizona attorney general's office.

I have a proposition for you.

- Does this turtle ever move ?

- What do you want, Price ?

I'm forming an undercover

narcotics operation.

- I'm lookin' for a field officer. You're the man I need.

- How do you figure that ?

I know everything

there is to know about you.

Really ?

Dan Saxon isn't your real name.

You were born William Patrick Steiner

in Manhattan on June 24, 1966.

Your father was a pipe fitter.

Your mother was a full-blooded

chippewa Indian.

You were orphaned when you were 3 and

raised by your maternal uncle, a policeman.

Shall I go on ?

Who the hell are you ?

I told you. I'm with

the attorney general's office.

Let me give you my card.

I'll put it right here.

I'll go on.

Because she was a native american,

your uncle hated your mother.

He locked you in a room, handcuffed you

and beat you for the next three years.

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