Dirty Harry 4: Sudden Impact

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All rise, please.

The Court of California is now in session.

The Honorable Judge Lundstrom presiding.

Please be seated.

Mr. D'Ambrosia, this case is a travesty.

You have no evidence whatsoever

linking the accused to the murder.

The gun found in his car was obtained

as the result of an illegal search.

In the eyes of the court it does not exist.

The search was illegal...

...because lnspector Callahan...

...and this is an old story...

...did not have sufficient probable cause...

...for detaining Mr. Hawkins.

The gun is inadmissible

and the charges against the defendant...

...are dismissed!

Mr. D'Ambrosia...

...be assured that I will discuss

your case preparation techniques...

...with the District Attorney.

Bailiff, next!

How many times, Callahan?

Sixth sense doesn't count anymore.

You can't bust them

because you think they're dirty.

Psychic don't cut it.

Hey, Callahan.

Don't look so puked-out.

Better luck next time, fool.

Listen, punk.

To me, you're nothing but dog sh*t,

you understand?

A lot of things can happen to dog sh*t.

It can be scraped up

with a shovel off the ground.

It can dry up and blow away in the wind,

or it can be stepped on and squashed.

So, take my advice:

Be careful where the dog shits you.

You're a class act, Callahan.

A real class act.

Loretta.

All right, folks!

You did real good with that cop!

Now, I want everything.

Money, watches, rings, everything.

Quick! Move!

You're coming with me.

We'll have a little party!

What are you doing, you pig-head sucker?

Every day for the last 10 years, Loretta

has been giving me a large black coffee.

Today she gives me a large black coffee,

but it has sugar in it.

A lot of sugar.

I just came back to complain.

Now, you boys, put those guns down.

What?

We're not just going to let you

walk out of here.

Who is "we," sucker?

Smith and Wesson...

...and me.

Go ahead.

Make my day.

Call D'Ambrosia in the DA's office.

Ask him if coffee is psychic.

-Ernie.

-What?

Look at that,

going up the steps into the hotel.

Is that who I think it is?

Sh*t!

Why me?

A nothing detail!

A lousy goddamn peeper tour!

So, what do we do now?

We call Captain Briggs and let him decide.

May I have your invitation, sir?

I don't understand, lnspector Callahan.

Do you know the emergency number

for San Francisco General?

Yes, I do.

Why don't you call them right now

and have them send down an ambulance?

Tell them there are two

sorry-looking a**holes here...

...with multiple contusions,

various abrasions and broken bones.

Inspector Callahan.

I want to talk to Threlkis.

At his granddaughter's wedding?

On what business?

-I want to help him catch the bouquet.

-They have harassment laws, lnspector.

Sit down.

Champagne? It's imported.

You know, men, like wine,

should grow finer, more civilized.

They should mellow, become more worldly.

But not Callahan.

Callahan is the one constant

in an ever-changing universe.

Linda Doker?

She was fished out of the bay a month ago.

Her breasts were slashed.

Her feet burned.

Her face smashed to a pulp.

I read about it. A hooker, wasn't she?

A very expensive one.

In fact, her specialty was making

old scumbags mellow and worldly.

I think she had a special customer

who told her a lot of things.

You are a fool, Callahan.

She might have been clever enough

to write these things down.

Maybe she made a copy of it.

Maybe she didn't tell about it

when she was being tortured and beaten.

I wonder what that old scumbag's bosses

will say when they find out about it.

Or maybe his family.

Maybe his ass is in a ringer.

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