WOMAN: Monroe's so-called talent agency
booked beautiful young women
into the palace discotheques of Middle Eastern sultans.
The trial established that Monroe murdered the women
after they refused to provide him with sexual favors.
Hey, Reg.
Hey, Nash. How are ya?
Hey Joe, man, what's happening?
Where's Monroe?
Oh, the van's just arriving.
Okay.
Hey, I sent in my transfer application for SFPD.
Oh, good for you, Reggie.
Yeah, but I wrote that I wasn't interested
unless I could make it into SIU.
(laughing)
They must've loved that.
Oh, I guess they're here already.
All right, hold on. Wait, wait. Okay.
Let me go check. Sure.
Hey, Bob.
Hey, Reggie. How's it going?
BOB: The crowd's fine. Taken care of.
Yeah. All right.
Okay, keep coming.
REGGIE: Come on back.
Yo, man, this Monroe?
Cool.
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(screams)
Reggie! Reggie!
(screaming)
Hang in there, Reggie.
Hang in there.
Joe!
Yeah, I'm on it!
Yeah, give me a 408 here at the Federal Building, Code 3.
Uh, we're at City Hall... Get 'em there now.
(woman singing over bluesy organ riff)
DOMINGUEZ: I don't see anybody.
You sure this is the place?
Right there.
Not here, Nash, they might still be around.
Get in the car.
No, Mr. Boogs gets carsick.
(Dominguez muttering) Your choice, darling.
Damn.
All right.
Uh, if he does get carsick, hold him over the side, huh?
Daysha, when you called us, you said it was important.
What can we do for you?
I think it was.
I was out walking a few minutes ago
with Mr. Boogs, and we're getting to the place
where Mr. Boogs likes to do his business, right?
Mm-hmm.
And we see these two vans there, and a car.
The car's a maroon Crown Vic.
Nobody sees me and the Boogs, we're behind a Dumpster.
Oh, Mr. Boogs, get some more air.
Uh, Daysha, you want to get to the essential point here?
One of the vans is Department of Corrections.
It opens and the guard lets this guy out.
And then, man, this was even weirder.
They drag another guy out of the other van, which was blue,
and the two guys are traded.
Wait a minute. They took a guy out of the jail van
and traded him with a guy from the blue van?
Exactly. That's why I called you.
Okay, go on.
I knew I better get out of there
so I run up to my place and bolted the door.
The men came around to see about the barking,
but I don't think they saw me.
Can you identify these men?
No. I didn't see them too well.
I recognized the guy from the jail van.
It was Leyland Monroe.
Leyland... They took Leyland Monroe out of the jail van
and put him in the blue van? Exactly.
Here, I got the license plate for the Crown Vic.
Daysha, your mom still live in Santa Cruz?
Well, Bonny Doon, next town over.
All right, here's what I want you to do.
There's a rent-a-car place right around the corner there.
They guy's name is John.
Tell him I sent you.
Go to your mother's. Don't go home.
Don't call the studio.
Don't talk to anybody until you hear from me.
Uh, Mr. Boogs excluded.
I told you it was important.
Attagirl.
How's Harrell?
No better.
Is he gonna make it?
Well, if he does his life isn't gonna be what it once was.
Burns over 80% of his body.
Does he have family?
Yeah, a wife and two kids.
DOMINGUEZ: They're all over at the hospital right now.
All right, what've we got on this bomb?
High ordnance. Very chi-chi stuff.
Magnesium chromate charge, no larger than a lead pencil,
digital-cued, two-stage delayed thermal trigger.
James Bond, white courtesy telephone.
Exactly.
You guys, this stuff is like bank note paper...
It's nearly impossible to get your hands on
outside the government playpen.
I'm not liking this.
DOMINGUEZ: Wait a minute, Monroe was almost certain
to get the death penalty. Why kill him now?
Revenge?
Howard Blake, maybe? He's the most outspoken
of the three women's family members.
What if it wasn't Monroe that got killed in that van?
LEEK: I don't know, the coroner ran the fingerprints
of the remains against CCI and they match with Monroe.
Hm. Did you run the plate?
I did, and it's for a Jaguar, not a Crown Vic.
A diplomatic plate registered to the British consulate.
DOMINGUEZ: Well, that doesn't help us.
Maybe Mr. Boogs isn't quite the investigator
we think he is, huh?
LEEK: Unless the plate was stolen.
Harve, see if Monroe had any connections
with the spook world.
And get me his full case file. Will do.
Ev, Michelle,
Get over to the hospital, sit with Reggie Harrell.
Keep me updated on his condition, please.
You got it.
All right Joe, let's you and I
take a run on over to the British consulate.
What do you say?
Joe?
I have the letter.
What letter?
The letter.
The letter. The Tufnel School.
What does that mean?
Only the most exclusive pre-school in the city.
What, are you thinking of furthering your education, bubba?
Very funny.
I happen to be holding Lucia's future,
right here in my little hands.
Lucia... Lucia would be what, nine months old?
Uh-huh. Which means I should've been on the gig
18 months ago, man.
Look there's only 24 spots in the school,
and there's thousands of people trying to get their kids in.
Hell, I had to make a donation just to get the application.
And this school frenzy thing,
this doesn't strike you as a little bit ridiculous?
Man, if she doesn't get into the Tufnel pre-school...
The top feeder school for the elementary
and secondary schools in the country...
Forget it, she has no chance
of getting into an Ivy League college.
So what you're saying is
if she doesn't get into this school
her future is just pretty much over.
No, not pretty much over... it is over.
How you gonna break it to her?
In another language.
(laughs)
(percussion track blaring)
Wait a minute, I know that guy.
That's Lemonhead.
Lemonhead?
A car thief.
I was after him in Auto Theft.
Looks more like Lime-head.
It used to be yellow.
He doesn't own a Mustang. Let's take him.
Look, Michelle, you're not in Auto Theft anymore, okay?
You're an SIU cop; we're working on a murder investigation.
We're not gonna pull over to stop some two-bit car thief.
Come on, Evan, I want this guy.
Look, I had him twice and he got away.
Damn it, Evan!
(phone ringing)
Inspector Chan.
We'll be right there.
Looks like Deputy Harrell's taken a turn for the worse.
Yeah, burn victims will do that.
Not this one.
Somebody helped him out by putting two slugs in his chest.
Oh, man.
Is there some sort of method to this thing?
What if it's bad news, man?
Will you get it over with?
Open it... it's gonna make you feel better.
I just know it will.
All right, all right.
(sighing)
Yes! Yes!
She got the interview.
What?! Yep.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute, bro...
This is about an interview?
She didn't get in?
Hey, mano, the journey of a thousand miles
begins with the first step.
Hers, or yours?
Well you can be cynical all you want, man,
but I'm in the mood to celebrate, all right!
DOMINGUEZ: Queen Elizabeth the Deuce.
There was two, you know.
What are you, giving a tour?
Gentlemen.
David Lawton Adams, Consul General.
Hi. Inspectors Bridges and Dominguez, SFPD.
What can I do for you, Inspectors?
Well, we're investigating a bombing that occurred
at the courthouse this morning.
Yes, I saw it on the news.
Why does that bring you here?
This car is registered to the consulate,
and, uh, I was wondering if you knew who
it was assigned to.
Well, not without some more information.
DOMINGUEZ: Well, we have a confidential witness
who feels the driver might have some useful information.
All our vehicles are in a motor pool.
Any number of people could have had access to it.
Do you think we could get a list of those people?
As well as a sign-out sheet, mileage log,
any other paperwork that might be pertinent?
Gentlemen, you're asking
for information that breeches diplomatic policy.
You'll need to tell me more specifically
how it relates to your criminal investigation.
(laughing): Ah, well,
I wish we could, but, uh, at this time, we can't.
Inspectors.
Off the record...
it would be a big help to us.
I'm sorry.
Feel free to contact our embassy in Washington.
Perhaps they can help you.
Okay.
Thank you for your time.
I wish I could be more helpful.
So do I.
Good day.
So we don't even get any tea
or those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off?
What, you like those things?
Yeah, second only to burritos.
Could we stop by my house?
I want to tell Ingrid the good news.
Come on. Oh, man.
Inger! Inger, where are you?
INGER: What's wrong, Joe?
(laughing)
Nothing is wrong, honey.
Everything is right.
Hello, Nash.
Inger.
(fussing)
Hey, my little genius.
Honey, read this letter.
Oh, I'll read it.
Um, "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dominguez..."
that's us... "After careful consideration
"we are pleased to grant you and your daughter, Lucia,
"an interview to discuss her candidacy for matriculation
into the Tufnel Pre-School."
We are in, baby.
Joe, it's only an interview. That's what I said.
It doesn't mean that she's been accepted.
That's what I said.
What're you talking about?
Who could say no to this little angel, huh?
Who could say no to my little scooty-pie?
(spluttering playfully)
Joe, are you sure this is the right thing for Lucia?
What? You thought this was my idea?
I didn't say anything.
Nash, why do you always think
that these ideas are my idea, huh?
I think Lucia will do fine in public school.
DOMINGUEZ: Honey, we've been all through this.
What do you think, Nash?
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no...
Think of me as Switzerland.
DOMINGUEZ: Oh, I get it. Well, uh,
you know, uh,
public school is good enough for my daughter,
but your daughter had to go to private school? I-I get it.
No, no, I didn't say that.
Well, you didn't have to.
Look, Joe, I am sure that no matter where your daughter goes
to school, she's going to do great.
You see?
Oh, so now you're taking his side?
(sighing)
I'm not talking anymore.
(doorbell rings)
(Lucia jabbering) That's for me.
Yeah, yeah, she wants to go to Tufnel School, huh?
Right.
(rings doorbell)
Yeah? Package for Joe Dominguez.
I'll take it.
It's certified. He has to sign.
All right. I'll sign it.
He signs.
Well, who's it from?
Doesn't say.
It's gotta say. It's certified.
DOMINGUEZ: What's up?
I was kind of hoping to take him alive.
Maybe get him to answer a few questions,
the bastard.
That guy shows up at my house with a gun
with my wife and baby here? No chance.
Well, boss, here's one from the Over-stating the Obvious
Department, but your mailman wasn't a mailman.
Paul Marks... a British national,
and a trade officer at the British consulate.
What a coincidence, huh?
Amazing.
So what did this mailman think we have, since we don't have it?
I'm thinking that was the point.
Somebody wanted us dead before we got anything.
Yeah, that sounds right.
How's Reggie?
He didn't make it.
Oh, man.
Son of a bitch.
Anything on the shooter?
Video frames from the hospital security camera
at the time of the murder.
Who would want to shoot Reggie?
He looked in the van before it blew up.
Uh, maybe he saw something.
Yeah or didn't.
Namely, somebody other than Monroe,
if we're to believe Daysha.
LEEK: Oh, Nash, it leads us down
the same cul-de-sac with Monroe's remains
positively I.D.'d by Forensics.
That guy's officially dead.
Check it out.
Our mailman at the hospital.
(wry laugh) Busy day, huh?
One murder, two attempted murders
in two different zip codes.
Pretty damn good.
Monroe's got to be alive.
Maybe somebody hacked into CCI
and changed the fingerprints.
Hacked into CCI?
Is it possible?
Ah, I suppose it's possible, but...
Any more complicated than building that bomb?
Not really, no.
Joe, where was Monroe originally booked?
Uh, Tenderloin Task Force substation.
Michelle, get over there and get the original
thumb-and-ink hard copy of Monroe's prints.
I got it... I'll match it against
what the coroner got at the bombing.
Good girl.
DOMINGUEZ: Okay, wait a minute... what about
the Crown Vic-Jaguar differential?
LEEK: Mm, that's the same principle
by which my love life sucks.
Now, diplomats are going to throw plates
on whatever car's available, right?
Right. All right, I'll buy that.
Harve, call Pat Grayson over at the State Department...
See if you can get a list from her of the current staff members
in the British consulate.
Joe, come on, I'll see if I can
get you those sandwiches this time.
Cool.
ADAMS: You're an important man, Mr. Monroe.
Your obituary made the front page of the Chronicle.
Who the hell are you?
Your savior, giving you a chance
to choose between heaven and hell.
Oh, yeah?
And which is this?
Oh, that's up to you.
We need you, Mr. Monroe.
That's why we rescued you from the gas chamber.
To do what?
Murder one of your former customers.
You seem to have a facility for it.
Who are you?
Remember Mohammed Ab-Hussir, from Yemen?
He likes tall blondes.
Scandinavians.
Yeah. So?
Mr. Ab-Hussir has funded terrorist groups,
and in the process,
he has made himself an enemy of the people that I work for.
Ab-Hussir is going to Mexico City next week.
He'll be looking for talent.
You'll be there to help him out.
And close enough to kill him.
I don't think so.
He's got a ten-man personal security detail.
Nobody's gonna kill him.
Oh, it's not without risk.
But if you succeed, we set you free with a new identity.
I think you girls are gonna
to have to work this one out yourselves.
(man whispering)
I don't need to spell out the alternatives.
Mull it over.
ADAMS: Gentlemen!
You're back. Why?
Well, we have some more information on that car.
Could it have been driven by a Mr. Paul Marks?
Oh, again, without specific criminal charges, I can't, uh...
Well, specifically, he killed a sheriff's deputy
this afternoon at St. Viviana's at 1:42 p.m.
And then he tried to kill us.
Yeah, but we got him first.
Specifically, he's dead.
He also tried to impersonate a postman.
Paul Marks has been an embarrassment
to us for some time.
He had a substance abuse problem; he was fired;
his visa was revoked;
and he was about to be sent back to England when he disappeared.
(chuckles)
He disappeared?
How inconvenient.
He also stole a consulate car.
A Jaguar.
The very same car with the plate number we gave you.
Did he ever mention the name Leyland Monroe,
I mean, to your knowledge?
No.
(phone ringing)
Excuse me.
(phone beeps on)
Nash.
Hi. I got a hard copy of Monroe's prints.
You were right. That corpse in the van wasn't him.
Ah, it's not always good to be right.
MICHELLE: What else do you need?
Nothing right now.
Sit tight.
Interesting news.
Leyland Monroe is alive.
But then I'm going to bet you already knew that,
didn't you, bucko?
Inspector...
in the best interests of diplomacy,
I'm going to ask you to leave.
Remind me again, what happens when diplomacy fails?
Nations go to war.
Ah.
Nasty business, that.
Cheerio, old bean.
All right, so Monroe's still alive.
So even if Adams knows more than he's telling us...
And he does.
All right, well, how does Monroe fit in with the Brits,
I mean, it doesn't add up.
Well, let's stop trying to do the math, then.
Keep it simple.
Find Monroe.
All right, okay, if I was Monroe, I'd get myself overseas.
I'd use my modeling agency connections to set myself up.
Uh-huh.
And who better to set you up
than the former partner, Irv Glickman?
All right.
Now this may be the most important conversation
we ever have, so I want you to pay attention.
Well, at least look at me while you're drooling, okay?
Okay, the key to life is preparation, all right?
Now, you'll be surprised what you can learn
in three short days, okay?
Oh, let's see... we'll save long division for tomorrow.
Okay? All right.
Come here a minute. Look at this.
I want you to pay attention now.
Focus, okay...
"A" is for "apple."
Apple. Okay?
We'll do Spanish tomorrow... but for today: "B" is for "ball."
Ball. Ball.
No, "B" is for "busted."
Oh, hi, honey.
It's Mommy.
Joe, she's nine months old.
She's too young to learn the alphabet.
You think? Yes.
Time for bed.
Oh, I was hoping you'd say that.
Her, not you. Oh.
Come on, sweetheart, time for bed.
Okay? No more working.
No more working with Daddy.
Oh, and here is Mr. Pudgy.
Well, Mr. Pudgy's not going to get her into the Tufnel School.
Boot camp is over for today.
(Lucia babbling, spluttering)
(Joe mimicking Lucia's babbling and spluttering)
Okay, now, let's look: "C."
"Cat." Cat. Okay?
I'll just put them under here
in case you can't sleep tonight, okay?
All right, mija. Good night.
(kissing)
Good night. Good night.
Remind me again, how are we going to afford this school?
Oh, we'll find a way, honey. We always do.
I know, but this is coming out to $9,000 a year
and that's not even including supplies.
I'll just work a couple more off-duty cases.
I already counted on that.
Okay, uh, we won't go on vacation.
I already counted on that, too.
Okay, we'll stop eating.
Honey, relax, I'll figure out a way, honey.
(clacking)
What?
Doesn't that thing have a mute button on it or something?
What are you doing, anyway?
I'm going over this application.
Oh, I already checked it out. It's fine.
Yeah, well...
Hey, we don't have a letter of recommendation.
It's optional.
Well, don't you think we should put our best foot forward?
(scoffs) Lucia is a baby.
What are we going to say, hmm?
That she eats strained peas better than her friends?
Look, honey, they're giving us an opportunity
to let Lucia stand out as special.
I think we should do it.
Besides, she is special.
Oh, I know, honey.
She's wonderful,
but who's going to write this letter of recommendation?
You? Me? Our babysitter?
Joe, who's going to write
the kind of letter of recommendation that you want?
Joe? Joe?
(sighs)
Uh, Nashman?
What's this?
I need you to sign this.
What is it?
It's a letter of recommendation from you to me
to the, uh, uh, academic board of, uh, Tufnel School.
(laughs)
Oh, that's good. I wonder what I had to say.
Well, I know how busy you are, so, you know, I didn't want you
to waste your time, so I just need a signature right there.
What school requires a recommendation
for a nine-month-old?
Well, you obviously had it pretty easy with Cassidy.
All right, there.
Thank you very... Whoa, whoa! Stop the car!
Come on, pull over! Stop the car! Pull over!
(tires screech) Joe, Joe, what are you doing?
Hold it! What are you doing?!
Joe, you could make another one!
(car horn honking)
Get out of the street, you idiot!
WOMAN: Hey, watch it!
(car horn blaring)
Oh, no.
What are you... Watch out for...
(car horn honks)
Hey!
Pedestrians aren't road kill!
Oh, no.
Stop! Stop!
(horn honking) Stop! Wait a second!
Stop! Stop! Police! Stop!
(horn blares) I can't look.
MAN: Hey, buddy, are you all right?
Thank you.
Whoo!
Hey.
(panting)
Okay.
I got it; we can go.
What is it with you?
Hey, man, I just want Lucia to have the best shot in life,
you know? And education is the best shot.
What's wrong with that?
Bubba, with or without the Tufnel School,
she's gonna do just fine.
She's gonna be a lot richer than you think.
She's got you!
Thank you, brother.
Oh, man, look at this.
(laughs)
That way. Keep going.
Shower's in there.
Don't take all night about it.
Adams said to watch him.
All right, then.
(water running)
(gas sprays, Beckham screams)
(helicopter passes overhead)
BRIDGES: Evening, sports fans.
Hey, boss. Hey.
Any sign of Monroe?
Not yet. Glickman's burning the midnight oil.
Business must be booming.
You would think that having your partner convicted of
murdering his clients would put a crimp in your style,
but no, there's been a parade of women
in and out of there all day long.
(chuckles): Must be tough.
Yeah, let me put it this way:
Cortez has a nasty case of cabin fever.
I have to say, at this point in my life, that any woman,
anywhere, anytime, could be the future Mrs. Evan Cortez.
(chuckles)
Hey, hey, what do we got here?
Somebody order a second gas truck?
Evan, take a look.
You got it.
When was the last time you got
too much service from a public utility?
Like, never.
San Francisco Gas was supposed to clear
their service vans from the area.
(knocks on door) Yo, open up.
Bugger off, pal.
Police. I don't think so. Everybody out!
Let's go! Let's go!
Oh, boy.
Let's go.
Better toss yours, mate.
BRIDGES: Police!
CHAN: SFPD!
(chuckles)
We're all gonna be nice and calm now,
'cause we're the cops and you're not.
Put your guns down right now.
Put your guns down!
All the way down, on the ground.
Not a smart move.
You better be worried about yourself there, bubba.
There's Glickman.
Michelle, grab him, too.
Hands on your head.
Put your hands on your head. Come on.
Move, move, move. Move, move.
Hey, SFPD.
Hold it right there.
You can't detain us.
We're protected by diplomatic immunity.
I don't give a rat's ass what you're protected by. Let's go.
Hello, Pat.
Get you something to drink?
Ha, ha. (chuckles)
Joe, you remember Pat Grayson
from the State Department?
DOMINGUEZ: Sure. Hi, Pat.
GRAYSON: Nash, I am not here
to shoot the breeze.
No, I'm gonna guess
you're here to take a few names
and roll a few heads.
Was there anything in particular
that David Lawton Adams did to anger you?
Well, he and his mates have been driving around San Francisco
in a dummied-up gas company van,
obstructing a police investigation,
flashing MAC-10s and various other weapons.
You are aware that Adams and his entire staff
have full diplomatic status?
Oh, yeah.
He's made that perfectly clear.
You know about the sheriff's van explosion?
Of course.
Adams is in it up to his neck.
What's your evidence?
In the works.
Nash, if you have evidence that these men are involved
in something that serious, they can be dealt with.
The State Department's not interested
in protecting criminals,
but I need substantial evidence.
Yes, ma'am.
BRIDGES: Did you sign there?
It's all signed. All the spots?
Just need your signature.
A John Hancock, okay.
DOMINGUEZ: Nash? Yeah.
Expect my formal complaint
by the morning.
BRIDGES: I'm curious.
What were you looking for?
Come on.
I always like a good lie.
And you've been lying your ass off since the moment we met.
Humor me.
Good morning, Irv.
Hey, how you doing?
I'm not answering.
Not without a lawyer.
I don't have to answer.
You don't need a lawyer to say how you're doing, Irv.
I'm a legitimate
international talent agent.
I never engaged in any of my former partner's criminality.
He said that with a straight face.
(chuckles)
(laughs)
You're just bringing nations together.
DOMINGUEZ: Tell me, Irv, at what point
do the girls go from being talent to hookers?
Like, uh, right after takeoff or do they have to
pass Hawaii first? No, no, no.
You got to cross the international date line.
Hey! No one's forcing them to go.
They make a hell of a lot of money.
I'm thinking you should work with us, Irv.
That would make a hell of a lot of sense.
Oh...
Where's Monroe?
I'm not talking.
(sighs)
All right, let's play the hypothetical game.
If Monroe did contact you, hypothetically,
what would he have said?
Maybe he doesn't know the game.
Okay, Irv, if you don't cooperate with us,
hypothetically, we could go out and get a search warrant,
and we could hypothetically toss your office,
at which time we could hypothetically arrest you
for aiding and abetting a fugitive.
Which, hypothetically,
could cut into your commissions
and hypothetically put your ass in jail.
Okay.
Okay, I get it.
I get it.
If Monroe had called me... I'm not saying he did...
He might have said
he'd been grabbed by some bad asses.
Hmm. Kidnapped?
So Monroe didn't have anything to do
with the bombing of the van?
Then who did?
Well... he might have said
they were British.
LEEK: Hey, Joe.
Phone call, man.
Uh, take a message.
It's the Tufnel School.
Hmm? Um...
Uh, uh, uh... Irv? Irv.
Now, hypothetically,
you could win this game.
Well...
he might have said that they weren't
looking for fish and chips.
(laughs)
So did Glickman sing?
Oh, he sang, he danced, he did impressions,
he became a part of us.
And?
Well, it seems that Mr. David Lawton Adams
sprang Monroe to come over
and do some dirty work for him.
They wanted to assassinate a middle eastern terrorist
who just happened to be a customer of the agency.
Well the only problem was Monroe gave the Brits the slip.
What a tangled web they weave.
CHAN: Where's Monroe now, did he say?
Glickman sent him over to Rastaman's to get new papers.
Let's cover it, we might get lucky.
CORTEZ: We're on it. Bubba,
that is not a good look for you. Huh?
Oh, the Tufnel School just called, man.
They want to change my appointment.
They want me there in 45 minutes.
What... So what are you doing?
Oh, I'm looking for my keys.
Have you seen my keys?
Well, have you called Inger?
Yeah, I called her three times,
she doesn't answer, man. I just keep calling.
Your keys are right here. Ow!
What?
Oh, I'm having a stroke; I'm...
No, no, bubba, a stroke happens up here,
not in your arm.
What happens in your arm?
Heart attack. Oh, great.
That's-that's-that's...
Sit down. Sit down.
Now, listen, let me ask you something.
Why did you change your appointment time?
I didn't change. They called,
and asked me if I would do them a favor,
and I didn't want to, you know, seem uncooperative...
Uh-huh, call 'em back.
Call them back and tell them you want your old appointment back.
I-I can't do that, man; I can't!
Well, you can't go there without Lucia and Inger!
Well... Let-Let me explain something to you.
You are interviewing this school
to make sure that they're right for your daughter.
You got it?
Yeah, I-I...
Call 'em back.
All right, you're right. I'm...
I'll just... I'll call them.
Okay.
Good. Uh, hello, um,
this is, uh, Joe Dominguez; I just talked to you.
It's, uh, Inspector Joe Dominguez, SFPD.
Yeah, I just talked to you
about my uh, uh, appointment.
Yeah, well, see the thing is
that-that, uh, I...
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
No, I-I... no, that... That's fine.
I'll be... I-I'll be right there.
Breathe.
Breathe. I just want Lucia to get in this school.
I don't want to die.
Breathe.
J.J., have you talked to your mother today?
(sighs)
Well, if you talk to her, tell her to call me right away.
It's very important, son.
Okay, bye-bye.
Nobody's seen her?
Man, Amelia Earhart would be easier to find.
Who the hell are you calling now?
Gottenberg, Sweden.
I can tell you she's not in Sweden.
She talks to her sister at least once a day.
She'll know where she is.
(sighs) Busy.
Probably talking to each other.
Uh, where to now, sir?
(sighs)
Tumble-Time.
(children chattering)
Uh, hello, excuse me?
I'm sorry to stop your fun here, but I'm a cop,
and, uh, I need to borrow a baby.
No, no, no, no, no, come on.
Uh, go back to what you were doing.
Let's get out of here. No, wait.
Uh, this is an educational emergency.
And, uh, it'll only take about an hour
and your baby will be protected the whole time
by SFPD's finest cops.
Uh, and one of you mothers
will have the deep pride of knowing
you've assisted a police officer,
so, uh, who's in?
How about, uh,
deep pride and, uh, 200 bucks?
WOMAN: Deal.
But I won't take your money.
That man saved my father's life once.
In a bank robbery... remember?
Herbert Tuck!
Hi, uh, excuse me.
May I help you?
Uh, Dominguez, 2:45 appointment.
You're late.
Yeah, well, it was parking.
There was no parking around here.
Mm, is this "Luchia"?
Uh, yeah, this is my daughter... Lucia.
Yeah, whatever.
Have a seat.
(stammering)
Complete sentences, Joe, this is the Tufnel School.
Uh, well, he was trying to reach you.
I know... 37 calls?
Are you okay? You look a little bit pale.
I do? Mm-hmm.
That's not good, huh?
I gotta write this down.
Memoirs.
WOMAN: Mr. and Mrs. Dominguez.
I'm Mrs. Lofink.
I'll be conducting your interview.
Put that Latin charm thing on her, bro.
Olé.
What made you choose the Tufnel School?
Well I... I, I think, uh,
Ms. Lofink, that it's very clear as we enter
the 21st century that a child needs a broader,
more challenging and culturally diverse
education. Mr. Dominguez,
I-I know what you're saying.
Really? Oh, thank you.
It's all right here
in the Tufnel School brochure.
Verbatim.
(quietly): Is it hot in here?
You mind holding her for a moment?
I have to call my mom and let her know we're gonna be late.
Sure.
Okay, Mommy'll be right back.
Gonna let me hold you, Viola?
Oh, my, she's adorable!
Look at those sweet little eyes.
Hello, I'm Claire.
I'm Nash and this is Viola.
Say hi, Viola.
Hi!
She's adorable.
Yes, she is, isn't she? Yes.
Succinctly stated, what are your goals for Lucia?
To be happy.
Isn't that what every parent wants for her children?
Yeah, I think she means ultimately, honey.
Well, Mrs. Lofink, ultimately,
I think our goals are exactly the same
as the Tufnel School goals.
Um, "Studium, Wirtoos"...
uh...
(clattering) "Suburbia."
I'd like to have a moment with Lucia.
DOMINGUEZ: It's, uh, very hot in here.
MRS. LOFINK: Lucia, say hello to my friend, Mr. Teddy.
She's such a calm, even-tempered child.
I think that's so nice.
Can you say hello to Mr. Teddy, Lucia?
Because Mr. Teddy wants to be your new friend.
INGER: Oh, she's not talking yet.
MRS. LOFINK: And I'm sure there's so much she wants to say!
"Who am I? What am I doing here?"
"Who are these new people?"
And who is this fuzzy wuzzy bear?
(electrical whirring)
Come on, it can't be that bad.
(phone ringing) Oh, brother, it was worse.
Wasn't there a guy named Lofink in Hitler's cabinet?
(phone beeps on)
Nash.
Boss, Harve.
We're outside Rastaman's and Monroe just showed.
He's inside. BRIDGES: All right, don't jump
unless he leaves.
We're there in five.
I hate this! What?
We can find a fugitive in a state with 33 million people
and I can't get one little girl into Tufnel School.
Have you considered a convent?
No, I'm married.
What's the layout, Ev?
We got a front door, we got a fire escape
and the rear door's padlocked.
We got him.
Hey, anybody take note of our guy at the bus stop
talking to his cigarettes?
There he is.
(tires screeching)
LEEK: I don't like this...
MAN: Gun!
MICHELLE: Damn it!
CORTEZ: I got cigarette man!
MICHELLE: I got Monroe!
Let's go! Let's go! Go!
LEEK: Nash, Adams just hit Monroe.
He's headed east on sixth.
He's headed for the embassy.
We're on it.
Hands up!
Son of a bitch!
Somebody remind me,
is this our second or third war with the British?
Third. Last time was flintlocks and powdered wigs.
You'd think they would've learned.
The guards at the consulate, they're kind of like those guys
at Buckingham Palace, right, minus the fuzzy hats?
British Marines, actually.
Well, bring them on.
So, what's the plan... Full frontal assault?
It's not gonna come to that, I hope.
You were going, weren't you, Nash...
Whether I showed up or not.
This guy killed four people.
Three of them were cops.
And you know what?
That pisses me off.
I wish I had a few like you on my team.
I am on your team.
I always have been.
Enjoy the dinner party.
Thank you very much.
(kisses) You're very welcome.
(guests conversing, mellow jazz playing)
Good evening, Mr. Consul General.
How you doing?
Oops, sorry, Joe, still no sandwiches.
That's okay, I'll suffer through.
Oh, can I get a club soda?
If you know what's good for you, Inspector,
you'll leave now, while I'm still feeling gracious.
Well, actually, I brought this nice set of jewelry for you.
I'm sorry for the disturbance,
ladies and gentlemen, it's really nothing.
Oh, yeah, it's nothing.
That is if you don't mind your host being up to his ass...
Oh, check that... Eyeballs... in murder.
Starting tomorrow,
I'll be wearing your guts for garters.
Oh, I don't think so.
You see, I've got this interesting little paper
from your embassy in Washington.
DOMINGUEZ: It's been approved by the Home Office.
You know, the one in London?
England?
All very formal on a protocol level.
See, the way I understand it, your immunity is given to
the sending State, which, in this case,
happens to be Great Britain.
But unfortunately, in your case,
they've decided to withhold it.
Remove these men!
(man clears throat)
It seems that you've lost your authority.
DOMINGUEZ: Oh, no, don't get up. Uh...
We'll show ourselves out.
(laughing)
Uh-huh.
Gentlemen.
This is a violation of international law!
I have rights!
This will not stand!
Oh, I meant to tell you, leave the chair.
It's British sovereign property.
MICHELLE: Morning.
Couldn't help myself.
Yeah.
So, Nashman, any international incidents on today's schedule?
Hell, no!
I've had enough international intrigue for a while.
I prefer our own homegrown wackos.
LEEK: Mail call.
Oh, thank you.
That's for Inspector Bridges.
Oh.
Here's yours.
"Dear Mr. Dominguez, we are sorry to decline
"your recent application
for your daughter's..." blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Oh...
Here comes that stroke again.
"Dear Mr. Bridges, we are pleased to inform you
"that your daughter Viola
has been accepted to the Tufnel Preschool."
What?!
"In addition, we are pleased to offer you
a full scholarship at this time."
Oh, man, I feel like someone
just drove a nail through my gallbladder.
I'm sorry, bubba.
I don't care, man.
I mean, who'd want to go to a snoot farm anyways?
Can you imagine if Mrs. Lofink ended up
being Lucia's teacher?
Just hear her screaming herself to sleep every night.
(laughing)
Hey, besides, me and you both went to public schools
and we turned out okay, right?
Right?
I'm thinking, I'm thinking.
So, uh, what are you gonna tell Inger?
Are you kidding? I'm gonna tell her the truth.
She'll be delighted.
Hey, listen, question:
Uh-huh?
Piano lessons.
Technically, that's not a question.
No, no, I mean, how soon is too soon?
Aren't Lucia's hands a little small to be
thinking about that right now?
Not right now, but, you know...
Well, here's a radical idea.
Why don't you wait until she's old enough
and then you can ask her yourself?
Are you kidding? What's the good of
having kids if you can't live their lives for them?
(Bridges laughing)
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