The Young Savages Page #2

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I guess I haven't taken

a good look at her lately.

One of those boys is only

a year older than Jenny.

- I guess that's why it bothers me so.

- He was old enough to handle a knife.

Whose idea was it anyway to go for

murder one, Dan Cole's?

- Look, Karin...

- I know why he assigned this case to you.

'Cause you're the only man smart enough

to get him a first degree conviction.

He'd frame his own mother

to get that nomination.

Karin, it wasn't Dan Cole's idea

to go for first degree murder.

It was mine.

Yours?

Yes, mine.

I don't believe it.

But you came

from that neighborhood yourself.

- Yes and I got out.

- Yes, you did.

But everybody hasn't got the

emotional equipment

to put up with the slums and the poverty.

Here we go with the passive theories

of social oppression.

Listen, Karin, those punks

have made Harlem a nightmare.

People are afraid to walk home

from the subway after dark.

Remember the old man at the newsstand,

the one who loaned me the money

to buy a suit for my bar exam?

Well, last week, four of your

underprivileged children beat him up.

They broke both his legs,

he'll never walk again.

And you're upset

because three self-confessed killers

are gonna stand trial for murder.

Good night, folks. Don't wait up for me.

Oh, Jenny, I wasn't planning to.

I'm going to bed at 12:00, after you.

Mother, you can be such

a drag sometimes. So utterly cubistic.

You know what I mean, don't you, Dad?

You heard your mother. 12:00, darling.

All right, I just hope I can explain it

to Lonnie's satisfaction. Good night.

Lonnie? Whatever happened to Greg?

He's been replaced by

a more mature man, age 16.

- I ever meet Lonnie?

- You haven't even met Greg.

Look, honey, let's not wrangle.

Come on, we'll grab our things,

go out to dinner,

have a big, thick steak

and a bottle of wine. What do you say?

Okay.

By the way, your old girlfriend,

Mary Di Pace, called today. Twice.

I referred her to your office.

Did you talk to her?

I don't know what to say to her.

Why don't you just tell her

that you're gonna burn her son.

For old times' sake.

Russell, come on, will you?

Grab those crates

and bring them over here.

- Papa, what did you do?

- Never mind what I done.

- You told the police about the knives.

- Mr. Rugiello?

That's right.

I hope nobody see you come here?

This your daughter?

I don't have 'em,

I know nothing about 'em.

All right, come on, come on.

All right, Mr. Rugiello. Let's go.

What are you going to do

with girls like this?

Some father.

- Calls the cops on his own daughter.

- He did the right thing.

Your name is Angela, isn't it?

They call you Angy.

What did you do with the knives, Angy?

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