Get Hard Page #4

in the "mini-Madoff" trial of James King.

I lost everything! F*** you!

I didn't do it!

For too long,

wealthy white-collar offenders like you...

...have gotten a free pass with light

sentences in minimum-security prison...

...while working Americans have suffered.

Well, that ends today, Mr. King.

I sentence you

to the harshest penalty allowed:

Ten years in a maximum-security prison.

You have 30 days

to get your affairs in order.

Just run them over!

I can't go to jail. I'll die in there.

That's not gonna happen, James,

because I'm gonna put my investigators...

...on this twenty-four-seven

until we find out who really did this.

Just stay in county lines

with that thing on.

Otherwise, the U.S. Marshals

will be down there pronto.

Son, I want you to stay strong.

Do you hear me?

I will.

I'll be so strong for you, Dad.

Why me?

I have to leave the country!

It took so long to ring me up, I had to miss

my waxing appointment. I feel like a gorilla.

It's summer too.

I can't believe this is happening to me.

- It's like they don't recognize you anymore.

- Thank you. Yes.

Alissa!

Hey! It's me, James.

I know. What are you doing?

Why do you look like that?

Just eat your f***ing salads.

I'll f***ing kill you if you say anything.

Hi.

- Hi. Hi.

- Hi.

I came up with a great idea.

Let's just run away! Some place

that no one would ever think to find us.

Mexico.

Let's just leave this

material world behind.

Live in a one-bedroom shack.

- Oh, God.

- Yes.

- You could sell Chiclets on the road.

- What?

Look, we'll work out the details later.

- We should get out of here.

- No!

- I already cut off my ankle bracelet.

- No! No.

Let's go.

- James, no.

- What?

- No! I'm leaving you.

- Why?

But I thought you loved me forever.

Well, now you know.

Alissa.

This is the U.S. Marshal Service.

James King, exit the building

and surrender to custody immediately.

Oh, sh*t!

Hey, guys. He's in there.

Why are you arresting me?

I am but a simple bartender from Belize.

Wait, no. Mexico.

Call my lawyer in Tijuana.

Sh*t!

- What the f*** is that?! Get off!

- It's me! It's me!

- Mr. King?

- Yes.

You scared the sh*t out of me, man.

What you doing in the trunk?

I just needed a place to regroup.

You know, fresh start.

Okay. Hey. Let me help you out, man.

F*** you, King!

- I lost everything because of you!

- I didn't do it!

F***!

F*** someone!

F*** a tit!

F*** a tit hard!

For the love of Alan Greenspan.

F***! My life is ruined.

I venture you've heard

that I'm going to prison.

Yeah. No, we all did. I just didn't

wanna bring it up first, that's all.

Come on. They're probably sending you

to some Club Fed prison.

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