Fort Apache the Bronx Page #3

What if I was a lunatic

with a gun?

Then you wouldn't be

a police officer, Captain Connolly.

Or would you?

What's your name, Sergeant?

Kickin' ass and taking names,

huh, Captain?

Well, I'm

Sergeant Anthony Pantuzzi.

I got 22 years on the job...

and I'm ready to retire tomorrow if I

get a hard time from my new commander.

I'll take the half pension

before I'll take any crap from anybody.

Captain Dugan's office

is over on the right...

as close to the street

as he can get.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Come in.

Captain Dugan.

- Connolly.

- Yeah.

You picked a great day

to take over.

This place was jammed

with reporters all morning.

Page one of

your first day up here.

- You like press conferences?

- They're part of the job.

That's for sure.

They put it out

you volunteered for this job.

- I did.

- I'll tell you something.

You'll do better walking the beat

in Beirut than you will here.

You're supposed to have

some background material for me.

Yeah, I got it.

Block-by-block rundowns.

Ongoing investigations,

trouble spots...

community people...

personnel evaluation.

I'm interested in the ratio

of rookies to veterans.

I didn't break it down that way.

Two rookies in a car

is always a mistake.

So I'm going to be blamed

for those killings?

And I'll be blamed

till they're cleared.

How about corruption?

Anybody on the job now

in my precinct is clean.

Your precinct has the worst

absentee record in the city...

the most disability claims...

the highest percentage

of men on sick call...

the least convictions per arrests,

and there are no men on the take?

So they toss a numbers runner

for a couple of dollars...

turn a pimp upside down

for some loose change.

There's nobody

getting rich up here.

There's nobody doing anything.

These men aren't motivated.

Motivated?

I mean, this is Siberia, Connolly.

Sixty-five percent of the men here

have been transferred.

We got the connivers,

the slobs, the shirkers...

guys who beat up

the wrong guinea...

who gave a diplomat

a parking ticket...

screwed a bigmouth hooker

or shook down the wrong peddler.

There are plenty of good

police officers in your command.

You're the one

falling down on the job.

That's right, blame Dugan.

Sure, let the politicians

and everybody else off the hook.

Blame Dugan.

That's the easy way.

You got a 40-block area

with 70,000 people...

packed in like sardines,

smelling each other's farts...

living like cockroaches,

and that's Dugan's fault.

You got the lowest income per capita,

the highest rate of unemployment...

and that's my fault.

Why aren't I out there

getting all these people jobs?

The largest proportion

of non-English-speaking population...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes