1 (projector rattling, whirring) MAN (voice-over): Every man carries a badge. Some symbol of his allegiance. His were the scars of a boxer who'd used his fists to climb the social ladder of the Mob. A Jew who'd gained the respect of wops through a homicidal lust. He'd sworn an oath of violence. And his master? His own insatiable will to power. He wanted to own this town. His name is Mickey Cohen. Able 2015 On my badge is the city of Los Angeles. I came back from the war, and I didn't even recognize it. Brothels, vice, blood in the streets. Cohen is building his empire. (coyotes howling) (imitating Dracula): "The children of the night. What music they make." It's the damnedest thing, Russo. I come up here so many times. They see me, they know -they're getting a treat. -What's the matter with you? You think they're not going to hear about this in Chicago? Oh, I'll make sure they do. You're certifiable, Mickey. You belong in a booby hatch eating pudding in your goddamn pyjamas. A minute ago, you were begging. That's when I thought you were a man. But you're something else. You're rotten. (whistles) (screams) How about now, Tommy? You impressed? (groans) You prick bastard. OK, boys. You sick son of a bitch. Let her rip. (screams) Oh, my. When you go back to Chicago, you tell them what you saw here tonight. You tell them that Los Angeles belongs to Mickey Cohen. (festive music) MAN (voice-over): Fighting the war had taught me the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. People are scared. They say leave it alone. Excuse me, miss. Anyone ever tell you you look like Lauren Bacall? (chuckles) No. (voice-over): But Cohen isn't the only fighter. And I'm ready to step in the ring. Son of a bitch didn't waste any time, did he? And today's your lucky day. We're holding auditions. Really? Let's go. This is it. Ooh, wow. This is wonderful. Thank you. I can't wait to let my folks know about this. Oh, they're going to be real proud of you. You know, this is where Bacall first met Bogart. -What the hell are you doing? -What's it look like? He's going to give her a bad time in there. O'Mara, for Christ sakes, that's Cohen's place. Nobody goes in there. I don't want any part of this. Then go get an ice cream. Right this way. You know, we... we hold all our screen tests up here, kiddo. Away from the crowds. Come on. Help you with something, pal? -Looking to meet someone. -Yeah? What's her name? I don't know. I thought maybe you could help me out with that. Oh... no, mister. It's OK, really. Get in the goddamn room. Look at what Daddy found. Nice. (elevator bell dings) I tell you I was partial to blondes? Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right, big guy. Pistola, butt first. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You're a cop? Christ, buddy. What are you, soft in the head? (gun fires, man groans) (grunting) (shouting in pain) Please! Let me go! Please! (screams) (grunting) (screams) -Break her, boys. -Let go! No! Stop it, please! -Don't! Please! Please! -(knocking at door) -Help! -Shh. Shh. You make another sound, and you're dead. (knocking) (woman whimpering) Who is it? Mitts in the air. -Come on! -I don't think so. Ten bucks says this guy ain't even heeled. -I'll take that bet. -Yeah. Why don't you come over here and find out? Come on. Bang. (laughs) (grunting) Help! Somebody! (grunting and groaning) WOMAN (muffled): Please help me! Welcome to Los Angeles, ma'am. (indistinct chatter, phones ringing) MAN: Patty, it was the strangest thing. I arrested Whalen, next thing you know, lickety-split, he escapes. Oh, really? He overpowered you again? No. He just slipped his cuffs? He sure did. It was the damnedest thing. O'MARA: Keep moving. What happened to you this time? -They resisted. -Oh, yeah? What happened to them? They resisted. You're working too hard. Boys. MAN: O'Mara! Get your Irish ass in here! Weren't you told to stay away from Cohen's turf? I was. Hendricks told me you walked in there without a warrant. These three are going to walk. Says who? Says Judge Carter. Habeas corpus. Well, that's fast work. I didn't know any better, I'd think someone here stiffed in a call. Listen to me. We got rules around here, smartass. Do yourself a favour` learn them, hmm? Is that how you got that new Packard out there in the parking lot? Following the rules, boss? Two things you can't take back on this job, kid: bullets out of your gun and words out of your mouth. That it? Get out. (trolley bell clanging) Karl Lockwood. That's Mickey's bodyguard. I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you this, but... don't feed or tease the animals. Doesn't it bother you? No. Not for a long time. OK, stay out of trouble. (door creaks) -Connie, look... -Baby, you promised me. I know. You stood right where you're standing now, and you promised me. I know. I didn't go looking for it. Scout's honour. John, you go looking for it every time you leave the house. (groans softly) What happened this time? (sighs) It was just some pimp. He was going to put the hurt on this poor girl who didn't know any better. She looked a little like you. I mean, not nearly as pretty, but... (laughs) Smooth talk isn't your line, Sarge. Look... I don't mind living like Ma and Pa Kettle. I don't need a new pair of shoes every week. I married an honest cop. You're kind, you don't talk too much, you're a demon in the sack. But I don't need a hero, Sarge, I need a husband. So you do not have permission to go belly flop on a grenade, not when we're expecting company. Do you read me? Yeah. Whores don't grow on trees. They're like mustangs. You got to catch them wild and break them before you train them to do tricks. Means I need a quiet place where I can keep the girls locked up. Keep them hopped up on Mexican dope. Watch your jacket. It's filthy here. But this cop comes out of nowhere like an early frost. Mr. Cohen, I swear to God... You're talking to God, Mitch, so you might as well swear to me. I swear to you, sir, if it hadn't been for that cop, this would have never happened. You think I'm sore about that cop? Hell, no. He's a square Joe, the guy. Rescues a damsel in distress. Goddamn hero is what he is. They should put a medal on him. We're going to have to find a whole new place, start over again. It's like they say: "All good things must one day be burnt to the ground for the insurance money." (men chuckling) Mr. Cohen, thank you so much. I-I-I swear it won't ever happen again. I know it won't, kid. Whoa! Karl, what are you doing? -Please! -Come on, let us out of here! JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS Hey. Hey. Hey, Jerry, want a shine? Hey, Pete, you want a shiner? Go to bed. Come on, I'm a working man, just like you. How many times I got to tell you? When it gets dark, go home. See, I'd love to, but I got to make just one more buck before I can get out of here. -If I give you a dollar, will you go home? -Yeah. -Do you promise? -I promise. Beat it. Shine? Want a shine? Go ahead, Detective. -Hey, sugar. -Hey, Jerry. Ladies. MUSIC PLAYS Jack. Fancy seeing you here. Fancy that. You look sharp. Take a pew. Yeah, OK. How's it going, pal? You got a steak a la carte back there with your name on it. You're a peach. Figure you must be starving. You haven't picked a winner in what, six weeks? Five. My boss can help you out with that. You know we fix the damn races, right? All you got to do is ask me. First of all, Jack, you're not allowed to tell me that. Second of all, you know I have a warrant for your arrest, right? So, what's the charge? Usury. What the hell is usury? Loan sharking, you dumbass. Do you want me to pull it out? -It's in my pocket. -No, no, keep it in your pants, Jerry. Because then I can read it and tell you exactly what it's for. It's fine. Jerry, can you listen to me for a second? Yeah, I'm listening. Cohen's on the warpath. Warpath? Looks like he's on the "give me some more" path. WHALEN: Just keep your eyes on the players, Jerry. Hard to know the players without the playbill. (sighs) OK. Up top, you got the killer. Wrevock's his name. And down below, the Honourable Judge Carter. Max Solomon, Cohen's lawyer. And Burbank Police Chief Elmer Jackson. On this side of the table, one Eugene W. Biscailuz, the high sheriff of Los Angeles County. Who's the tomato? That's Grace Faraday, Cohen's etiquette tutor. Is that right? He's getting all sophisticated. Oh, must be nice. What's that? I haven't been sophisticated in weeks. (whistles) That's not for lack of trying. Roast peacock. Romans couldn't get enough of this stuff. Them guys had class. It's the other fork, darling. Tonight, we're celebrating the birth of a new city built right here on the ruins of Los Angeles. Congratulations, Mickey. Hear, hear. MEN: Cheers. Look, I'm tossing the central jail. I think I'll just have a cigarette. OK. Don't worry about it. It's done. WHALEN: Don't even think about it, Jerry. The penalty for poaching the king's deer in this town is still a permanent vacation in a pine box. Well, you got to die of something. Will you excuse me? Thanks. Sure. I'm Jerry. Say, Jerry, I bet you got a ducky war story behind that lighter. Yeah, sure, I got stories. Hey, Mac, can I get a Dirty Shirley? Coming up! I got shot down once, over the Pacific. I spent the night hanging onto the wing of the plane, and I had sharks bumping my legs in the dark. Are you weak in the knees yet? Sure I am. Let's see. You're not quite big enough to be a shylock. I give up. What's your racket, handsome? Mostly, I just like to play games. I bet. What kind of games? I like to play post office. Post office? It's a kid's game. Not the way I play it. But my racket is, uh, I'm a Bible salesman. You want to take me away from all this and make an honest woman out of me? No, ma'am. I was just hoping to take you to bed. -Chief! Chief! Chief! -Chief, over here! -Hey, Chief! -What do you think about those girls locked up at the Croesus? Rumour has it that was Mickey Cohen's place. Come on! When are you gonna do something -about Cohen, Chief, huh?! -Chief has no comment. Hey! (grunts) Well, who's running this town, then?! Who took it down? John O'Mara. Homicide. Just one man did that? Yes, sir. (low, indistinct conversation) Sergeant O'Mara, Daryl Gates. Who the hell is Daryl Gates? The chief's driver. He'd like a word with you, Sergeant. Officer Gates, kill the fatted calf, will you? I've found my prodigal son. Two Purple Hearts. Silver Star. Trained at Camp X? I never heard of Camp X, sir. Of course not. But you are skilled in guerrilla warfare. All due respect, sir, may I ask why I'm here? Would you please have a seat, son? I want to talk to you about the war for the soul of Los Angeles. You see, our forbearers fought savage Indians and Mexican bandits to win Los Angeles. And now, we're losing her to an Eastern crook. No one will testify. They know it's suicide. This isn't a crime wave. It's enemy occupation. And you've fought in occupied territory before. I have. I need you to do it again. To wage guerrilla war against Mickey Cohen. We're finally going after him. I'll need men. Recruit them. And keep it quiet. You're off the books. You are to make no arrests. You want me to kill him? No. With Cohen dead, his empire would only attract others of his kind. I want you to shatter his operations, destroy his establishments, and drive that bastard out of this city. Yes, sir. 1 What are those? Um, supposed to recruit a few guys for this new outfit. Oh, yeah? What kind of outfit? A small squad. Five, maybe six guys. What kind of outfit? We're going after Mickey Cohen. Oh. CRASH! Oh, Connie, Jesus. We moved out here, you said we'd found paradise, remember? Wind was right, you could smell the ocean right through that window. That's exactly what kept me going when I was over there, was raising a family here. You can't ask me to just hand it all over to Mickey Cohen. Mickey Cohen can have L.A., John. As far as I'm concerned, he's welcome to the whole lousy town. He just can't have you. Sweetheart, look. The war is over. Stop fighting. Come back to me. I'm trying. I need your help. (jazz music playing quietly) (chuckles) Hey, come here for a second; I want to ask you something. Well, you see, the thing is... (chuckles) I bet you say that to all the girls. I don't... Mm. ...know what you're talking about. Where have you been all my miserable life? Jerry the Bible salesman. Drinking. Oh. That's a noble profession. He'll kill you if he finds out, you know. Who? Mickey. Mickey Mouse? What are you doing with that knucklehead, anyway? Doesn't really seem like your type. I'm his type. That's what matters. You are something else, you know it? Yeah. Top of his class. Top of his class. This one made detective before his 30th birthday. Well, if I'm Cohen, these are the cops I'm gonna buy. They'll be lieutenants in a few years. So I should just find other bums like me? I'm just saying that you shouldn't be looking at choir boys for this. (men cheering, whistling) I'm putting a squad together. I need an Indian guide who knows the territory. Oh. I wish I could help. I'm just in the middle of a very important case, though. I can't. Who's the lucky winner this time? Mm. (snickering) Well, good luck. That's all you got? Sarge, the whole town's underwater, and you're grabbing a bucket when you should grab a bathing suit. You know? Come on, Jerry, what the hell happened to you? Hey, same thing that happened to you, pal. But the war's over, and we don't have to fight anymore. You're not gonna change anything around here, Sarge. You're just gonna wake up one morning walking on the wrong side of the grass. For what? If you can't answer that question, take off the badge. Drink up. OK, but only cos it sounded like an order. CONNIE (voice-over): How about this guy? They call him "The Sheriff of Central Avenue." Coleman Harris. Excessive force and insubordination. Sounds like a man after your own dear heart. (lively chatter, upbeat music playing) (screams) -(music stops) -It's OK, Del. Now, don't wiggle it. Be best you pull it straight out. -Two, three, four. -(music resumes) Lieutenant. Sergeant John O'Mara. Can I buy you a drink? Well, seeing as though I'm still on duty, you better buy me two. Damn heroin, eating Central Avenue down to the bone. I lost my niece to it, a year ago. I'm the only law there is down here. What would you say if I took you upriver? All the way to the headwaters. No more pushers. Plug it up right at the source. Sarge. What is that? Look. What? Oh, no. Why not? No, cos you can't just pull some guy out of a magazine like he's a decoder ring. You can't do that. Sarge, Max Kennard has shot more crooks than any L.A. cop in the last hundred years. Sooner or later, there's gonna be gunplay, and I want Kennard with you when it happens. KENNARD (voice-over): Max Kennard. Mind if I join you? All right. Navidad Ramirez. "Christmas" Ramirez? It's all right if you're a burlesque dancer, but I keep on telling him it's no kind of name for a lawman. Mind if I talk with you for a minute? Go on, Navidad. Get some air. (Ramirez groans) That kid's not gonna last long riding with you. Hell, nobody will work with him on account of his heritage. I'm going after Mickey Cohen. And I need a gun hand. Wouldn't you know it? I just happen to have one. There it is. -Good as new. -All right. -Thanks, Dad. -Yeah, don't crash. Conway Keeler? Can I help you with something, fella? You need someone with brains to balance the brawn. He was Army Intelligence. (voice-over): Got demoted for not understanding the need for a warrant. Rocketdyne's test-firing their new missile up in Santa Susana. It's supposed to be faster than the V-2. -Thank you, ma'am. -Thank you, baby. You don't know what the V-2 is, that's OK. This is-- This one's faster. I heard you were the best wire man in the department. Oh, yeah? Thank you. Look, these other guys I've been asking, none of them have families. So you want to think this over? -(crowd cheering) -CHARLIE: Dad! -It's the rocket! -Oh. Come on, hurry! -Look at that baby go! -Wow. Isn't she a beaut? Look, Dad. KEELER (chuckles): Yeah. It's pretty great, right? You know, this-- a brighter future-- this is what we fought for, isn't it? Damn right. He grows up, I don't want to tell him that I just stood by while Mickey Cohen took it from us. (crowd chattering) Mr. Cohen, right this way. Mr. Cohen, how's the haberdashery business these days? -Booming. -(laughter) MAN: Mr. Cohen, Mr. Cohen! What do you think about Chief Parker? Who? (laughter) -Mickey, so nobody's heard from Tommy Russo in a while. Any idea what's happened to him? Tommy went to live on a big farm, where he's got lots of room to run and play with all the other Chicago gangsters. You want, I'll take you out there to visit him sometime. (mellow music playing) -Hiya, Jack. -Mickey. -You know Red. GRACE: I think I'll go bend my elbow while you boys bend your ears. Hmm, pair of Jacks. It's not a two-of-a-kind night, kid. Scram. I'll be at the bar. Scotch. Grace. Jack. Say, kid... why don't you cut Jerry loose before he gets hurt. Jerry's a big boy, Jack. Mm. -Trust me. -Yeah. He'll make a big stain on the sidewalk if Cohen finds out about you two. He's my friend, Grace. I've known him all my life. He's a sheep in wolf's clothing. He's got a smart mouth, but he's dumb where it counts. What you did to Russo, that was a disgrace, Mickey. The man rode on a train out from Chicago to sit with you in good faith. I don't get you. You have the world by the ass out here. You got all the-the prestige, the purse, the pussy any man could ask for, and you go and you poke Chicago in the eye. Uh, why? More. I want more, Jack. You want to weep over Tommy Russo, fine, we can drink to Tommy. He was a guy who died building a railroad, and I'm sorry he won't be out here when I drive in the golden spike. But what happened to Tommy is nothing. That wasn't murder. It was progress. I am progress. You know, what kills me is you think you're something new. I've seen guys like you before. The Mojave is filled with them. Bright boys that want to shoot their way to the top of the class. You think I lack vision. Uh-uh. It's the other way around. Matter of fact, I'm having a vision right now. You are gonna wake up one morning with your best part stuffed into your mouth. I'm sorry, did you say something? I was kidding. I heard you, Jack; you're a funny guy. And I'm not gonna carry water for you anymore. You dumb kike. You're old, you're slow. -I've outgrown you. -You listen to me. I might be getting old, I might be getting slow, but I got friends in Chicago that are neither. This isn't Chicago! This is the Wild fucking West. And I've been reading about it. You heard of Manifest Destiny? That's when you take what you can when you can. The greasers took it from the redskins and we took it from them. And I'm gonna take it all from you, Jack, and not just because I can. But because this is my destiny. Los Angeles is my fucking destiny, you motherfucker! 9 When we succeed, nobody will ever know what we've done. No medals, no promotion. But I'm here to tell you, there's death in it, waiting for the man who hesitates. Right now, our only advantage is that he won't know who we are. So I have only one rule in this outfit. Leave these at home. We're not solving a case here. We're going to war. RAMIREZ: That sounds good to me. Take it easy. I'm-- No, I'm on your side. Who the fuck is this guy? KENNARD: He's a huge pain in my ass is what he is. HARRIS: He followed you here? Real nice, Hopalong. Yeah, but he-he's heard everything. Yeah, I know your plan. That's what I just said. I want in. You think you're good enough? I got the drop on you, didn't I? KENNARD: Push comes to shove, kid will stay behind his gun. It's your mess, cowboy. -When do we start? -Tonight. We're gonna hit his casino across the river in Burbank. (lively chatter, upbeat music playing) (music continues faintly inside) We destroy the equipment, burn the money. We're in and out in ten minutes and back across the river before they even know what hit them. We gonna do it or talk about it? -Let's go. -The Great Spirit with us tonight, Chief? -Hey, who are these guys, Sarge? -He better be. Squaw needum new pair of moccasins. Young brave needum firewater! (both laugh) Movie extras. (lively chatter, upbeat music playing) -(cheering) -Get down! Everybody down! (gunfire, people screaming) Get down! Do what we tell you and no one gets hurt! -Get down! -We're here for the money! -Kiss the ground! -Oh, shit! -They're cops! -What?! -Yeah, who are they?! -Those aren't costumes! -Shit! -Put them down! Sons of bitches are guarding the place! -Put them down! -Put it on the ground! -Hey, fuck you! -Go, let's go! Get out! Get out! Abort! Abort! Dirty Burbank sons of bitches! -Abort! -Let's go! -Shit. -(gunfire) That was a stupid idea! -Shit! -Freeze! -Go! -Hold it right there! (ignition sputtering) (gunshot) -Go! -Move! Move! It's not starting! You got to push it! Take your foot off the brake! The car! (gunfire) -Get 'em! -Hurry, get in! -Go, go, go! -Let's go! Hands in the air! Now! Damn. FUNSTON (voice-over): The shine had this on him. JACKSON: You packing a pig-sticker, Bwana? You must be out here from Chicago or maybe from goddamn Mars. Cos everybody down here on planet Earth knows that Mr. Cohen's place is sacred ground. Dragna put you up to this? Go to hell. You better believe I'm asking you a whole lot nicer than Cohen's gonna. Lock them up. (Wooters humming) Hey, Jerry. How about a shine? Oh, look, it's Pete. No, it's-it's Re-Pete. Oh, come on, look at those shoes. I mean, it looks like they've seen more steps than the Eiffel Tower. Hey, you know what? I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'll make them shine like the moon, Jerry. -The moon. -Oh, yeah? -OK, Pete. -All right, all right. (mellow jazz music playing) New York. It's like being a rat in a maze. Everybody living on top of each other. You wouldn't believe how goddamn filthy the place is. Whole goddamn place. How's your mom? How the hell should I know? You should know how your mom is. OK. Listen, I heard Cohen's making a move on Dragna. WOOTERS: Is that right? But out here... (inhales deeply) ...guy's got room to be something more than he was. What do you know about Cohen and Dragna? I'm just saying to keep your head down, is all. Keep my head down? You keep your head down. You're a kid. Only thing you should be worried about is how you're gonna get your hands up a girl's skirt. That's what you should be worried about. COHEN (voice-over): The air's dry. Clean. You can taste it. (voice-over): And that changes you. WOOTERS: Hey, Pete. Go home. I'm not even done yet. Go home right now. All right. You hear me? -Yeah, all right. -Go! -All right. -Go now! (chuckles): OK. I love Los Angeles. I love it. GUNFIRE Jerry! GUNFIRE (sirens wailing) (tyres screeching) GUNFIRE Hey. Wh-- Hey. (weak laugh) You can't shoot me. You're a cop. Not anymore. (gunshot) TENSE MUSIC (grunts) Come on! Get it together, Jerry. What's the matter with you? Stop it. Whose blood is that, Jerry? Huh? You know that shoeshine kid? They killed him. I'm sorry about that. You got to screw your head on. Somebody just hit Cohen's place in Burbank. I know they think it was Dragna's guys, but I can tell you for a natural fact it wasn't. Couple of strong-armed boys made like to knock over Mickey's casino. Burbank cops nabbed two of them. Cohen's sending some guys over there now. Goddamn it, O'Mara, you stupid son of a bitch. I always knew I'd die in Burbank. Ah, they won't kill us here. Cohen will send somebody to pick us up, and then you'll wish they had. Watch the corridor, will you? All right. KENNARD: Hey, fellas. How's the food in there? Sarge. (grunts) What the hell are you doing, Hopalong? This here is fixin' to be a jailbreak. Supposed to be police officers. It's like a three-ring circus. Help you with something, pal? Yeah. Why don't you get off your fat ass and get me my prisoners. It's the dumbest thing I've ever seen. You're the one that got pinched and I'm the dummy? You got here awful quick. Yeah, well, Mr. Cohen was in a hurry. Just one guy? Yeah, don't worry about it. I can handle these two. With enough left over for you, too, pal, so just open it up. Help you, fellas? Yeah, we're here to pick up some garbage. Two bags. Oh, shit! Hold it! That guy's bullshit! -(car horn honks) -Lights out. -(men grunting) -Floor it, Navidad! That didn't work. (men grunting, gunfire) Who's there? "Bwana" is a Swahili word. Means "sir." Got it? Yes, sir. Come on, let's go, let's go! (tyres screeching) Now, who the fuck is this guy? Jerry Wooters. He's one of us. I know it doesn't look like much now, but this is gonna be my crown jewel. Welcome to El Dorado Trust. We're standing in the middle of a money-making machine. Makes me giddy. We got all the whores and dope sewn up. But pari-mutual wagering, bang. Off-track betting, ba-bang. That's where the real money is. Have this place open in a few weeks. After that, all the wire traffic west of Chicago comes right through here. Millions. I couldn't make it any faster if I was printing it myself. What about the Syndicate? That's the past. This is the future. I'll buy them off with money we pull out of this place alone. Buy every politician from here to Frisco. Within a month, we'll have the whole West Coast tied up in a nice ribbon. CRASH! (gasps) (silenced gunshot) Come on. (silenced gunfire) (both panting) Oh! (silenced gunfire, woman screams) (gagging) GUNFIRE All right? Your turn. You gonna break leather, Hopalong? Or you just gonna watch us? (grunts) (gun cocks) (gunfire) RAMIREZ: You were saying? KENNARD: Get on up here, Navidad. Sheesh. You loaded? Don't shoot where it is, son. Shoot where it's gonna be. (gunshot, can clanks) (grunts) (car horn honks) (brakes squeak) They got Dragna. They killed everybody in the house. His wife. Killed the maid, for Christ's sake. Cohen must have thought what we did to his casino was Dragna's guys. This was payback. It's war; people die. I'm sorry, I-I, I can't believe you would say something like that. Sarge, I don't want any more civilian casualties. Then talk to Cohen. I'd rather listen to him. All we do is plant a bug, and we can hear everything he says. One of the clubs? No, his house. (whispering): It takes him three minutes to get around the house-- go. Hey, guys, you want in on this? You still owe me ten bucks from last night. -You always say that. -Oh, get out of here. -All right, that's enough. Deal. -We're here to play cards. So, a little Five-Card Draw? Sounds good. (whispering): What are you doing? Just looking at a picture. Cohen's home. (over radio): Get out now. Get out. Dessert, Mr. Cohen? Oh, hot fudge sundae. Let's taste that, yeah. Mm-hmm. You're the best. -I'm just gonna powder my nose. -Whatever. Shh. Hey, Mickey. Anybody home? COHEN (over radio): Remind me, Karl, I want to take a look at that property-- that bakery down near Boyle Heights. KARL: You got it, Mickey. -Hi. -Hey. You heard anything? Apparently, Johnny Stomp's balling Lana Turner. Sinatra sounds pretty sore about it. Uh, Judge Carter is a world-class whoremonger, and, uh, Mickey takes good care of him. -It figures. -Those are the locations of some of the books around town. I can't keep up. Th-There must be a ton of them. And he's building something. I don't know what it is yet. OK, well, we got to find it. No. Hey, don't touch that. O'MARA: Get some grub. You got something to tell me, Romeo? It's nothing. It didn't look like nothing. What the hell is this? -Where's the pickles? -Hey, guys, guys! I just heard something about a heroin shipment. -Shh. Shh. -Let me hear. Let me hear. Here. (radio static crackling) -Get all the guys... -I can't hear it, Con. -Turn it up. -Well, it's-it's up all the way. I can't hear anything. Yeah, I think they're leaving the room. Oh, come on. Yeah, they left the room. Shit. Where-- we need to know where; where. I don't know. I don't know. I'll keep listening. -I know a guy who can tell us. -Who? Old friend from the neighbourhood. (grunts) Look, Cohen's got some medicine coming. -Where's he bringing it in? -I don't know! -(screams) -Don't lie to me, boy! Wait, wait, wait, wait! Harris, they'll kill me! Not if you leave town, they won't. Now start talking. (panting) Burbank Airport, Friday night. -You sure? -Yes! All right. Get your ass out of here. Damn. I can't believe we going back to Burbank. O'MARA: That stuff is Mickey's poison. We shut it down, we take away his best weapon. -We on schedule? -Yes, we are. Let's go. Let me get that for you, sir. GRIMES: We good? (engine starts) All right, let's go. Go, go. Come on. WOOTERS (voice-over): Let's just wait until they get over the river into L.A. I think we've worn out our welcome with the Burbank PD. Forget it, let's take them now. (tyres screeching) Looks like we picked up a couple of ticks. Let's burn them off the road. (gunfire) Shit! KEELER: Oh, my God! HARRIS: Everybody, get down! Hold on to your hats, boys! -(groans) -Jesus Christ! HARRIS: Take them out! (groans) You're giving them a clear shot! All right, that's it. Where the hell is he going? Get out of the way! What the hell's he doing? Move over! Where the hell he go? -You see him? -No, sir! Damn it, you see him?! Jesus! -(grunts) -Oh, shit! KELLER: What the hell is that? Shit! Jesus Christ! John, back off! Back off! Grenade! Shit! Grab it! Hit him harder! All right, hang on! Aah! Son of a bitch! No! BOOM! OK! KENNARD: Closer, Navidad! Shit. (groans) (panting) Let's go, hoss. Where you want them? Right here. Who the hell are you? You don't know what you done, pal. You think he's gonna laugh this one off? He will hunt you down. That's not your problem anymore. You hear me? -(screams) -Whoa, whoa, whoa. -Hold on. -You have their wallets? What are their names? Edgar Beaumont and Jeffrey Clark. We know who you are. You used to run dope for Mickey Cohen. You're retired. (men grunting) Let's get out of here. You really want to win this thing, or you want to die trying? Don't get me wrong, I love shooting gangsters in the legs just as much as the next guy. But we're gonna have to be smarter next time. Playing hot potato with a grenade isn't much of a strategy. We got really lucky. But if we keep going head-on at him like this, we're not gonna make it more than a week. It worked, Jerry. Get in the car. 9 (panting) Mr. Cohen, sir... I, uh... the, uh... Someone... hit the shipment. I'm sorry, I... Who hit the shipment? Guineas from back East. Maybe R-Russo's people. I-I don't know. Mm. Maybe Russo's people. Well... These things happen. (clicks tongue) Thank you, Mr. Cohen. COHEN: Karl. You know the drill. No! No! -Karl, no! Hey, Karl! -(drill whirring) -No! I'm begging you! -You stupid bastard. (screams) This ain't right! This ain't...! (screaming) (meat sizzling) Nice. Come in. Mrs. O'Mara? Please, Connie. Jerry Wooters. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you, too. What'd you bring? Bear claws. Uh... Congratulations. I didn't... Thank you. John didn't tell you? No, he didn't. Where is that guy? Out back. OK. Jerry? Yeah? I know. I mean, what kind of a guy would take on a job like this with his wife in my condition? That kind of guy. My husband's the bravest man I know, but he is not much for abstract thinking. Honour and duty are as real as I am. So if it comes down to a choice between his life and his duty... You want me to push him in the right direction? Can I shove him in the right direction? (laughs) That's why I picked you. You seem sensible. Well, that's a nice way to put it. I handpicked all of you guys, except the Mexican kid. I don't know where you found him. I don't know where he came from either. Take that out? John's a lucky guy, Connie. HARRIS: Look, you know what? -You should get your wife a Cadillac. -Mm. How's your love life these days? HARRIS: Your wife deserves a Cadillac. You're driving a Studebaker. You should buy yourself a Cadillac. It's a nice car. You don't get cars like that too often. You know, Jerry, one of these nights, she's just gonna get bored. Scared. Or he'll give her a rock, and she'll just roll on us in a fit of gratitude. Or he'll just find out she's got a new swain, and that's not good. With all due respect, Sarge, you don't know a goddamn thing about her. Gentlemen. I would congratulate you on a job well done. But then, I was never here. Cohen has already organized a dragnet. He has his people inside the department hunting for the gang that hit his drug shipment. It's only a matter of time until he realizes you're cops. We need to step up our timetable here, Sergeant. We need to offer Cohen no quarter. I'm not a quarter kind of guy, sir. Neither am I. Get down! Get out! (women gasping) Alameda and Palmetto. BOOM! Over there. Telephones, wires. Hey, hey. You are dead, pal. You are all dea... (grunting) Yeah, we get that a lot. BOOM! Find these bastards. Kill them all. Kill their families. Their kids. (over headphones): Their dogs. Their cats. They're on the scent of El Dorado Trust. We cannot let that happen. Do you understand me? KEELER: El... Dorado... Trust. It's an A-bomb. It's Mickey Cohen's pride and joy. The whole reason he killed Tommy Russo was to take over his Continental Wire service, which means Cohen's got the only wire between here and Chicago. He's building the central book for the entire Western United States. Wait, what's the central book? All gambling money on the West Coast will go through a central book, and Mickey Cohen will touch every penny. If he gets that thing up and running, inside a week, it won't matter what we do. It'll be growing faster than we can tear it down. He'll own the whole goddamn state. Where is it? I don't know. They haven't said a thing. Well, we got to find it. Yes, we do. We don't have a lot of time, Jerry. I'm not gonna get her killed. You got to ask her. Or I will. You know, I ain't got to prove myself to you. You asked me to be here and I'm here. I'm risking my life, like every single guy in there. But there's a line. You go and talk to my girl, you put her in danger, you're gonna cross that line with me, pal. I'm not questioning your loyalty, Jerry. Don't go near her. Just do what needs to be done. You're going somewhere? I got to go. You got to do that in front of me? You got to make yourself pretty for him in front of me? What's the matter? You got a lot of nerve. What are we doing? I can't figure out your angle. What's your angle? What were you doing in his house, Jerry? You don't want to know that. Why didn't you tell me you're a cop? I'm looking out for you. Trust me. No. I don't trust you. He's gonna plant us both. That stirs you a little, doesn't it? -Oh, yeah, that stirs me up. -It does, Jerry, admit it. Oh, it stirs-- it stirs me-- it stirs me right up. Maybe that's why you're with him. You think that's why I'm with him? I don't know. I came out here to be a star, Jerry. (chuckles) I figured I couldn't lose. I figured wrong, didn't I? I'm open to suggestions. Don't go. Don't let me. (film projector whirring) HERBERT: One-two! (laughs) Whoa. This the one where you break his jaw? Hey, Claude Rains. Come here, I want to show you something. HERBERT: Hurt him! Yeah. This putz was trying to steal my title. (chuckles) Story of my life. Some bum's always trying to steal what's mine. HERBERT: You got to dance. Come on! Finish him! Oh! 9 (radio playing quietly) Hey, Dad? Uh, yeah? Yeah? Mom wants to know when you're gonna put up the lights. Uh, as soon as I'm done here. Hey, can you hand me those wire strippers? Yeah. Here you go. Thank you. Son, your dad's a genius. Go tell your mom that. So, the first one's Pacific Telephone. The second one's Western Union. And that third one... -Cohen's. -That's right. That's all there is to it? Just cut the wire? -No, no, no. You cut the wire, they'd be out here in-in an hour to repair it. El Dorado Trust is the terminus of the wire, right? So all you got to do is ping the wire and the pulse echo will tell you how far away it is. Why didn't I think of that? Hey, keep an eye out. -Same for Apple Valley Dreams? -Box it, three-six? -All My Heart. -OK. -Across the board? -Got it. -What'll it be? -I don't think so. -Race two? Remember 75. And bingo. You got to be shitting me. OK, am I the only one who thinks this is fucking insane? Because there's an alarm, it goes right to Cohen. It'll take me ten minutes to find it and disable it. You got five, then. Shooting starts, sheriffs are gonna be all over our asses. You sure we can pull this off? No. Let's do it, then. (performing samba song in Portuguese) (music continues faintly in distance) -Hey. -Hey. -Hey. -Howdy. -Who are you guys? We're the band. (grunts) Oh, shit! Keeler? KEELER (over radio): All clear. (grunts) (chattering, typing) (screams) All right, everybody, time to go home! Out! -(women screaming) -Ladies, y'all go on and take the rest of the night off. -Come on, ladies. -That means you. Get up! RAMIREZ: Let's go, ladies. Come on. We already took care of that. (gunshot) -(music stops, people screaming) -Everybody out! Now! RAMIREZ: Everybody out! (crowd clamouring, screaming) (men chattering quietly) (panting) My, oh, my. What the fuck happened here, Eugene? We don't know, Mr. Cohen. Right now, I'm coordinating the respon... "Coordinating"? What's this coordinating? Take the dog. No, the deputy. This how you take care of business?! You motherfucker! You will find the cocksuckers that did this to me! You will find them! HARRIS: Drink. Come on. Come on. -Look, look. Come on, drink. -Shut up. Shut up! Come on, you son of a-- Drink! Drink! -Whoo! Whoo! -No, don't drink it. Drink it. Don't be scared, don't be scared. Come on. Our young Senor Ramirez is drunker than a peach orchard sow. -Let me tap you. -Oh, my God. -No, I'm good. -You sure? -Yeah. -It's not good right now. Sarge, come here for a second. -Come on, everybody, here we go. Get over here. -Come on, Sarge! -Sarge! -Jump in. Sarge, come here. To the sarge. For bringing us all home safe. You're a bull in a china shop, but we'd follow you anywhere. To the sarge. -Hear, hear. -No, look, look, look, look. This-this victory belongs to all of us. You know, I've run with a lot of outfits, but none better than you group of misfits. (laughter) -Cheers. -Cheers. To the Gangster Squad. The Gangster Squad. How much did they get away with? Nothing. Neddy says they didn't take the money. They're cops. Chief Parker put them up to it. I've had it with that sadistic, Bible-thumping boozer. He's done. We never had that kind of trouble before. Trust me, Karl. I've bought myself enough cops. I know what I'm talking about. These guys are a special brand. They're hard cases not interested in money. A cop that's not for sale is like a dog with rabies. There's no medicine for it; you just got to... put him down. (chuckles softly) Somebody peached to 'em. Somebody up and turned rat on me! There's ears in this fucking house! Find them! Bastard, slut cluck bitches! I'm gonna cut...! Come on. We need to get you out of here before he runs out of pretty things to break. Now, you don't ever need to come back here, Miss Grace. Not ever. (steady beeping) COHEN (over headphones): ...still killing us. Wrevock's gonna pick up the shipment tonight in Chinatown. Use the laundry truck. No, wait, you got to hear this. COHEN: You don't make this deal, we're finished, you hear me? Done. That hit on Slapsy's is still killing us. Wrevock's gonna pick up the shipment tonight in Chinatown. Use the laundry truck. Don't fuck it up. I need this. We hurt him. He is bleeding cash. Desperate enough to do this out in the open. We intercept that dope, he is dead in the water. You know, I, uh, I signed up for this so that... (clears throat) ...so that I could tell my boy that I, that I at least tried to do something about it. But-but I hope he never finds out about all the things we've done. Con, we did what we had to do. Well, can you remind me of the difference between us and them? Cos at this point, I can't tell anymore. You want to find a witness to sign their own death warrant? Con, look, this is the only way we can beat him. The only way. OK. All right, look, I need you on the wire tonight. -OK? -Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. In case Cohen has a change of plan. It's all right, Con. You sit this one out. We can handle it. All right? OK. Hey. You wanted to talk to me? He thinks somebody ratted. -He what? -It's only a matter of time before he gets around to me. What are you doing here? I know. I got to get out of town. You should, too. I can't. Gracie, look, for whatever it's worth... Look, for whatever it's worth, Cohen had nothing to do with us. Not for one second. Don't run. Just stay. Can I help you fellas with something? Mind your business. We'll get to you in a minute. We just want to talk to her, is all. Hey... we got a message from Mr. Cohen. Look, I don't-- It just seems like the lady doesn't want to talk to you. What lady? She's just one of Mickey's pro skirts, there, pal. Hmm. -(people gasping) -Hey! Hey, stop! Where is it? -Where is it?! -Over there! It's over there! (gasps) No, no, no, no. What is that? Is that your message for her? Is that acid? Huh? -Come on. -I swear to God, I ever see you near her again, I'll kill you. OK. -Good. -No! No! God! (glass shatters) (gasping) Fuck! You're gonna get yours! (whimpering in pain) O'MARA: We know Cohen's sending Wrevock here to meet the shipment. Maintain surveillance until he reaches the target location. He's gonna lead us right to the dope. We get this shipment, it's over. No more business. A lot of civilians, this goes south. Let's make sure that doesn't happen. Come on. Where's Wooters? Wasn't my turn to watch him. ANNOUNCER (over radio): We're ready to go now for round nine of the scheduled 15-round lightweight championship... (knocking on door) (dog barks in distance) ANNOUNCER: Went down only for a short time in round six... Jerry. Grace. Come on in. Come on, quick. Hey. (sighs) I got to ask you a favour. I need you to get Gracie out of town tonight. Yeah. I can do that. Thank you. I got to go. (music playing, indistinct chatter) RAMIREZ: Are you guys sisters? WOMAN: We can be. (laughter) Wait here in case he doubles back. Got it. (indistinct chatter) (indistinct chatter) (brakes squeak) (firecrackers popping) (firecrackers popping) (liquid pouring) (sighs) (horn honks) -(woman screams) -Look out! Jesus Christ, Wooters. -And where the fuck were you? -Where's John? (firecrackers popping) John! John! John! (children laughing) -(three gunshots) -(people screaming) John, look out! (grunts) (people screaming) (groans) (panting) (distant, echoing scream) (men groaning) (people screaming) (groaning) (grunts) -You OK? -Yeah, I'm all right. (grunting) Fuck! Oh, Jesus. 9 COHEN (over speaker): I was nine years old when I robbed the Palace Theatre with a baseball bat. Cashier was laughing. Till I bashed his head in. Knocking the place over, that wasn't the hard part. A nine-year-old kid with a cash box trying to get from Broadway all the way to Boyle Heights. Every block, I must have fought five, six kids for that box. But I wouldn't let it go. I wouldn't let anybody take it away from me. But you know who finally got that box? A cop. A dirty cop. An eavesdropping fucking cop. (groaning, gagging) That bug's a nifty piece of work. Limited range, though. COHEN (over speaker): I'm not angry. That's done. This is business. -(glass shattering) -(gasps) (screams) (sobbing) (engine revs, tyres squeal) WHALEN: Don't you worry, Grace. I'll get you out of town safe. I don't want out of town, Jack. I want out of this life. -COHEN (distant): Yeah. -(car door closes) (Cohen laughing in distance) You stay here. Jack. COHEN: Where is she, Jack? Where's that gorgeous red snatch? She's not here, Mickey. Did you bring your trouble boys just to see Grace? You expecting some trouble, Mickey? You looking for some? My dog, Mickey Jr., he shits more trouble than you're going to give me. We'll see about that, huh? Make it good, boys. Huh? You? You? (grunting and groaning) Come here. (panting) You're up next, you little creep. I've been saving something special for you, Mickey. My boxing days are over, Jack. Come on, Mickey. (groaning) Fuck... Does that hurt? Fuck you, Mickey. (muffled gunshot) (muffled gasp) (yells) WOOTERS: John. WOOTERS: Damn it, John, don't do this! O'MARA: Stay out of it, Jerry. WOOTERS: Just listen to me! You goddamn suicidal son of a bitch! -Don't. Don't. -You want to hit something, -you hit me. -Get out of my way! You want to hit something, hit... Mickey! Cohen! Come on! (panting) Well, Sarge... this is where I get off. (Wooters spits) The papers are calling for my resignation. And the mayor, I'm afraid, is calling for your head. I will likely be replaced by someone more amenable to Cohen. And you, Sergeant, you'll be relieved of your duty. Your career with the Los Angeles Police Department is over. As for your comrades... They were following my orders, sir. Blame rests solely with me. You've served with distinction. I'm sorry, John. He won. (bird chirping) (boy grunting) Here, come here. (grunting): No. It's OK. It's OK. It's OK. (sobbing) If I leave, Keeler died for nothing. Is that what you want me to tell our son when he asks about his father? Connie! (footsteps approaching) (door creaking open) (crickets chirping) The war taught us how to fight. And God knows it was worth it. But now it's all I know how to do. I don't know how to live. I just know how to fight. Might as well be Mickey Cohen. You're a good man, John. You might even be a fucking angel. Either way, you're a hero. You lose everything and you win the war, you're a hero. You lose everything and you lose the war... ...you're just a fool. (vehicle approaching) I've been looking for you everywhere. Gracie. I heard about Jack, and I just thought... I know. Jack saved my life. He fought like hell. What are you doing here? I saw Cohen kill him. Well, that's all the more reason for you to get out of here. No. I'm a witness. -Gracie... -I'm a witness. -Listen to me for one... -I'm your witness, Jerry. Gracie. Let me. Excuse me. Do I know you? O'MARA: Need a favour, Judge. See, we've been bugging Cohen's house for a while now, which I understand is illegal and inadmissible in court, but we don't think the papers are going to be so choosy. Mickey's boys get pinched, you cut them loose, he pays you in whores. -That sound familiar? -What do you want? You're going to retire, Judge. But before you do, just this once, you're going to do something right. Sign it. Come on, sign it. I hope you boys know what you're getting into. Where is he? He's holed up at the Park Plaza Hotel. Rented out every room in the place, and it's a fortress. You'll never get him out of there. O'MARA (voice-over): Tomorrow, they'll take my badge. Tonight, I'm still a cop. I have here an arrest warrant for Mickey Cohen for the crime of murder. I'm bringing him in. Think I'll tag along if you don't mind, Sarge. I got no plans tonight. I'm in. Let's finish it. (women laughing, conversing quietly) I just got off the phone with Judge Carter. He says he signed the warrant himself. Who's gonna serve it? Five guys? Forget it. They'll never get through the lobby. (tyres screech) -Beat it. -Get inside. I think I'll dance with the one what brung me. (over megaphone): Mickey Cohen, this is Sergeant John O'Mara of the Los Angeles Police Department. We have a warrant for your arrest. (in distance): Come out quietly with your hands up, and you will not be harmed. Mickey Cohen, this is your final warning. I like having only one fork. You never make the wrong decision. Fucking had it. O'MARA: All right, Cohen, time's up! We're coming in! HERBERT: We got a better idea, coppers. Why don't you take your guns and shove 'em up your asses. You call it, Sarge. Light 'em up! (grunts) Dirty stinking copper! Where you hiding?! Come here! (grunts) Cover me! (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) We got to take out that gun! Watch this, hoss! (grunts) (grunts) (exhales sharply) I'm out! (grunts) (grunts) (sighs) 9 LOCKWOOD: Elmer's got a plane waiting in Burbank, but we need to leave now, Mick. Can I get my tie on?! Want my fucking tie straight, I'm gonna go out there in fucking public. O'MARA: You all right? I'm all right. Hold on. (grunting) Go get that son of a bitch. (panting) (elevator bell dings) (gunshot) LOCKWOOD: That you, O'Mara?! O'MARA: That's right, coward! Come and get it, Cohen! Here comes Santy Claus! COHEN: Get the car! Get the car! (grunts) (grunts) (grunts) Harris, help me out! (engine revving, tyres screeching) (grunts) COHEN: Come on, let's go! Come on, drive faster! Son of a bitch! (both grunting) (grunts) Oh! (groaning) Navidad, come over here and help me aim. (gun cocks) Remember, not where the son of a bitch is, goddamn it. Where he's gonna be. (gunshot) (sighs) (gasping) That's my boy. (grunts) Mickey Cohen, you're under arrest for the murder of Jack Whalen. All right, lawman, take me in. Come on. Wanna dance? -Yeah. -Yeah? All right. Come on. (both grunting) (panting) You're an interrupter. An interrupter of progress. I'm progress, see? (both grunting) (panting) Come on. (sirens approaching) Cohen! Get up! Get up! (grunting) Come on. Come on. (grunts) (panting) MAN: That's Mickey Cohen! (crowd murmuring) (gasping) (onlookers murmuring) Take him away. All right, let's go. O'MARA (voice-over): Every man carries a badge. Mickey Cohen pledged allegiance to his own power. Violence was his means and his end. When he was sent to Alcatraz, friends of Jack Whalen welcomed him with a lead pipe. Parker stayed on as Chief of Police until his death in 1966. He got credit for Cohen's downfall. No one ever spoke of the Gangster Squad. ...in the modern world, the reign of the gangster Mickey Cohen in Los Angeles is at an end. O'MARA (voice-over): Parker deserved the praise. In tough times, he'd kept his oath to protect and serve, just like the thousands who walk their beats every day-- maybe without glory, but with pride and honour. We brought Cohen in, but it was Grace's testimony that put him away. After the trial, she held on to Jerry and wouldn't let go. Jerry always threatened to leave the force, but he never did. I guess he couldn't shake the call of duty that echoed in his ears. Every man carries a badge, and this was mine. But it was time to put it away. The Mob has never had a foothold in Los Angeles. I'd like to think I played a small role in that. I may not be in the line of fire anymore, but I still love my town. It's not paradise, but it is the City of Angels. # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every day # # There's some good in everybody, we're just made that way # # Good Morning, oh miserable, you're not as bad as you make out # # That frown don't set right get right up and shout # # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every night # # If you shine like a love light beamin' you'll make out all right # # Now if any old evil comes around today, just turn it right around and chase it away # # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every day # # You know that life is like an old steam engine, you can either go ahead, or in reverse # # Now the road ahead may look pretty rocky, but the road behind is bound to be worse # # If you close your eyes, you won't see the sunshine, if you plug your ears you won't hear a thing # # And if you shut your heart, you'll shut out the feeling, and there'll never be any reason to sing # # Bless you, yeah bless you, yes bless you, yes bless you # # That frown don't set right get right up and shout # # Oh bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every night # # If you shine like a love light beamin', you'll make out all right # # If any old evil comes around today, turn it right around and chase it away # # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every day # # Oh bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every night # # If you shine like a love light beamin', you'll make out all right # # If any old evil comes around today, turn it right around and chase it away # # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every day # # Bless you, mm bless you, yes, bless you, oh, bless you # # Bless you for the good that's in you, bless you every day. # www.able.co.nz Captions were made possible with funding from NZ On Air. Able 2016