Rampart

1

We are also going to be talking...

with Kim Alexander on following

the money trail.

Getting broken in by Senor

Rape-ez here, huh?

Yeah? You having a good day?

- Yeah.

- I'll break it down

for you, alright?

All you really need to know is...

among this whole sea

of brown skin...

a Mexican man hates a Honduran,

just like a Guatemalan

hates a Salvadoran.

They're really not all the same.

Everybody's dealin' dope,

twenty-four/seven.

It's an open-air supermarket.

Everybody's got a woodstick

for the LAPD.

Typical, onionhead gangbanger.

It'll be a Mexican. You know.

A Patuso or a Fuego.

And all this shit,

it all derives from something

real important,

like what little berg in the Culiacn

Uncle Juanito comes from.

How many fuckin' coyotes

the dirty little hamster

bred with on his journey up

here to the promised land.

What about the scandal?

The scandal's bullshit.

Two dickhead cops got embroiled

in some fuck up.

Ratted out an entire

sweet division...

to save their own wretched asses.

The D.A.'s office is running

scared, afraid to file,

afraid not to exonerate

en-fucking-masse.

Now you got a lot of hopped-up

Rodney King wannabe beaners

making whoop-de-doo of their own,

with get-out- of-jail-free cards

and a pile of county cash.

This used to be a glorious soldier's

department. Now it's... you.

What's funny?

Private Hatchet woman over

here is inquiring

about the scandal of the century.

You didn't touch your fries.

What? Oh.

I had a couple of them, but

I got a cholesterol thing.

Why, you want them?

No, you want them. Finish it.

I can't... I don't

eat French fries.

Well, then you shouldn't

have ordered them.

Finish those fries.

Dave hates wasting food.

You never see him eat, but...

he hates wasting food.

If you keep going like this,

you're gonna look like a crackhead.

Munch, munch, cowgirl. C'mon.

A very attractive crackhead,

mind you.

You makin' eyes at me?

You want one?

No, no, no. You're doin' good.

I stay healthy.

Finish those fries if you

wanna make probation.

- Okay?

- Yes, sir.

Your dad ever discipline you?

Huh?

No, sir.

I never met my father.

You never met him. Why?

He wasn't around.

General!

You guys make a great couple.

I was just bull-shitting you.

Thanks, boss.

There you go. Eat up. Eat up.

You aim for the shortest wetback,

you watch him skedaddle...

plow the dice and the Schlitz

Malt Liquor cans...

and hit your siren in farewell.

Let's see what we've got.

Wooo!

Green cards!

Yeah, you'll get the hang of it.

- Aren't you worried?

- About?

You'll get a 128?

Okay, listen. This is the most

important thing I've told you so far.

Everything you learned at

the Academy is bullshit.

An Illegal is just a sick bird.

This is some military occupation,

kid. Emergency law.

Alright, let's have some fun.

What went on here?

Caught him boosting ephedrine

and propyl alcohol.

What happened?

Ow.

He hit you?

Yeah.

You hit him? Tough guy?

Step outside, will you?

- Outside?

- Yeah, outside.

Hey, will you step out, too?

- I don't know, sir

- Now!

And shut that door behind you.

Nice tat.

Now, you're cooking crank

out of somebody's garage.

I don't know where that

garage is, but you do.

Now where oh where could

that damn garage be?

I don't see it, but you do.

- No, I don't.

- Yes, you do.

Okay, so now you have petty

theft, assault...

I'm sure you have at

least four priors.

That's a violation and mandatory

bullet, compadre.

Now, you give me that address,

and it all goes away.

What's the address?

I don't want to hurt you.

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