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or a reassuring light at the end of the tunnel.

Instead, I found the TV remote.

I don't know if it was because my wife betrayed me

or because I was about to lose a million dollars,

but whatever it was, something came over me.

Hey, buddy.

Hey, buddy?

Holy sh*t.

Jesus Christ.

L.A. Police Department, how can I help you?

Hey, hey, hey, there's a guy, he's on the street.

He's bleeding...

I think he's dead.

F***, I think he's dead.

May the Lord in His kindness,

and His wisdom, and His generosity,

and His love, and His caring, and His full heart

accept you into Heaven as you leave this earth.

What are you...

What are you doing?

This is Father Matthews, he's giving you your last rites.

I'm dying?

I'm afraid so.

You suffered a gunshot wound to the spleen,

causing internal bleeding and severe renal failure.

I called a priest in because you

only have a few minutes to live.

Before you can enter heaven,

before you receive the sacrament of penance,

you must unburden yourself of sin.

You must tell God where you hid the money.

Otherwise, how can you ascend?

I'm dying?

It's a cute act, but I get it.

You boys are the heat.

Detective Ashton.

This is Detective Morton, my partner.

The Playhouse 90 routine, that was my idea.

Detective Ashton here just wanted

to kick your ass until you talked.

Talk about what?

Your buddy... He made a

deal and gave you up.

So we have you for receiving stolen goods.

You're going away for three years for that.

However, today is your lucky day

'cause if you tell us where the money is,

you walk out of here free and clear.

Well, 'cause that...

That sounds like

an official, city-backed offer.

I'm sorry, boys.

Money burned up in the fire.

Come on... A loser like you?

You'd burn alive before you left that money behind.

Look.

We know that you went to the Jefferson Hotel, all right?

We know that you used your master key

to get into one of the rooms.

And we know that you stole some clothes

from a Japanese tourist...

Remember this?

You made a huge f***ing mess.

Look, we know that's where you hid the money,

and when we find it, it's 10 to 15 years.

Do yourself a favor.

Give us the money, all right?

A face like that in prison?

You're gonna be eating dick by lunchtime.

Dick that's been in your ass.

Money burned up in the fire.

All right, f*** it, we do it my way.

Morton, start writing on his chart.

Besides the gunshot wound and the broken arm,

he suffers from severe hematomas and a shattered kneecap.

Hematomas... How do you spell "hematomas"?

H-E... I'm just gonna put "bruising."

You're not gonna torture me, you guys are cops.

We don't use that word.

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