I had a really good time.
- Yes?|- Marlboro. Hard pack.
This, and, uh...
five bucks on number five.
Yeah, I gotta pick|something up for the wife.
Come on, pal.|I'm growing a beard over here.
I can never get these silly things.
Thar she blows!
All units, code 503.
Repeat: Stolen vehicle.|'89 Volkswagen Rabbit.
Silver. Boy-uncle-seven 9-9-6.
Any unit respond.
Look, just keep the change.|All right?
Excuse me.
That wouldn't be your Rabbit|by any chance, would it?
Mine?
Oh, no. No, sir.|I'm... I'm on foot.
I was just, uh,|out for a little jog, you know.
Here you go.|Five dollars on number five.
And your change, sir.
Jogged, huh?
Come here! Don't do it!
- Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!|- Whoa.! Whoa.! Whoa.!
- I'll blow a hole right through her, man!|- Let's not do nothin' stupid!
- Oh, my God! Don't hurt me!|- Come on, buddy! Let her go!
We're just talking a stolen car here.
Put the gun down. You don't wanna make|things worse for yourself, do ya?
Things couldn't possibly|be worse for myself.
- Don't even think about it, hero.!|- Hey, hey, hey.
Now, you, join your partner over there.
Keep your hands high.|Both of you!
Hey, you!|Grab their guns!
- Who, me?|- Yes, you, you mutt!
Just take it easy.|Think about what you're doing.
What am I doing?
- I won't go to jail for this?|- No, you won't go to jail.
- Now put 'em on the floor|and kick 'em over to me.
I said kick 'em over to me, Pel.
Hey, hey.! No.! No.! Wrong.!
Tell you what.
Pick up the goddamn guns|and hand 'em to me.
By the barrels.
Put 'em in my pockets.
Good boy, nickels.
Damn it.
All right. Okay, now everybody...
on the floor!
- You won't get away with this.|- You don't know that.
- Faces flat!|- Don't kill me! I don't wanna die!
You won't if everybody does|exactly as I say.
Holy shit.!
- Holy shit!|- Don't shoot! We're staying down!
I'm not fooling around here!
I told you to keep your faces|against the floor!
Okay, okay. We don't|want anybody to get hurt.
Now, if you want|this young lady to live...
nobody moves|until we're a memory.
- Did you drive?|- Yes.
All right, get out your keys.|We're going for a joyride. Do it!
Open the door.|Open the door.
Kill it. Kill it!
Keys.
Get in. Move. Over.|All the way over.
We've been patrolling...
- Wait. Not yet.|- Sorry.
Okay, we're rolling. And action.
We've been patrolling these Newport Beach|streets together for, what... six years?
- Six and a half.|- Six and a half.
You know, when people think|Newport Beach they don't think "crime. "
They think palm trees, the beach.
But let me tell ya, we get as much crime|here as in any other city.
You know, proportionate-wise.
Proportionate-wise, obviously.
New York's got, what,|10 million people.
- Twelve million.|- Twelve million people.
So obviously there's more crime in New York|than Newport Beach. Proportionately.
What do you get here? Mostly|domestic violence crimes and theft, right?
- Yeah, we get all that stuff.|- I see.
But we get murder,|we get prostitution, we get drugs.
We get all that stuff.
Well, uh, what's the worst|thing you've ever seen?
Would it be that busload of seniors|that went off the cliff?
No, the kids.
Oh, God, yeah. The kids.
All units respond to hijacked red BMW.
Male Caucasian, armed and very dangerous,|holding female hostage.
- Vehicle headed south|on Ocean near Magnolia.
Suspect has fired on two officers.|Proceed with caution.
That's us.|This might be your lucky day.
Three-niner at the corner|of Magnolia and Viewcrest.
- In pursuit.|- Let's go get us a bad guy.
I'm burning up in here. Grab the wheel.
Look, I'm gonna let you go|as soon as it's safe.
Just stop making that noise.
I can't help it.
Just let me go.|You can have the car.
Oh, I can have the car.
That's very generous of you.
Let me think here for a minute.
- Please, just let me go.|- I said I would!
Jesus.! Just let me think.
Oh, God.
Listen, you're gonna have to be...
my little insurance policy right now.
If you just hang tough|for a few more minutes...
you're gonna be all right.
- Okay?|- Okay. Okay.
I know what you're thinking.
What rotten timing, huh?
If you hadn't gone in|for that magazine...
I feel exactly the same way.
If I hadn't gone in|for those lousy cigarettes...
This damn habit.|I gotta quit someday.
Very nice set of wheels|you got here. Very nice.
What, you got a phone,|all real leather.
How's a girl like you|able to afford a car like this?
My father gave it to me,|and it's yours if you just let me go.
Your father gave it to you.|Just like that?
Just said,|"Here, take the car. You can have it... "
Goddamn it!
There they are! Hang on!
In pursuit of hijacked red BMW,|southbound on Ocean, just past Horndale.
Request backup immediately.
Aah!
That was stupid!|That was really stupid!
I'm sorry! I'm sorry!|I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!
You wanna get shot? Rule number one:|you don't burn the guy with the gun.
- All right... Aah! Aah!|- Oh, God, don't kill me.!
- My father'll give you anything you want.!|- Oh, shit! Aah!
Ow! Grab it!|Get the lighter!
Ow! Shit!
Get this lighter... No.!
- What are you doing?|- What? What? What?
You told me to do that!
No, I told you to keep it from burning me,|not throw it out the window!
- Now how the hell am I supposed to smoke?|- I don't know!
This is just what I needed.
Shit!
Oh, God!
- Move! Move!|- Hey!
- Look out!|- Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
Would you watch it!
We don't wanna get|any innocent commuters hurt.
We got a sticky situation. This girl's|relying on us to rescue her safely.
If I let this guy out of my sights...
there's a good possibility|that we will never see her alive again.
If we can get him to a place|where there's a minimum of traffic...
on a back road or something...
we can attempt|to shoot out the tires.
But the abundance of cars here|makes that highly dangerous.
Obviously, you always want to keep vehicular|intercourse down to a minimum at all times.
We don't want this guy spinning out|and hitting a busload of nuns or anything.
Bet you don't get this every day, huh?
Listen, what's the thing you like best|about being cops?
For me, it's the respect and power|that the position commands.
I feel like a combination of Bruce Springsteen|and Sylvester Stallone out there.
I don't know whether I oughta be|bustin'bad guys or signing autographs.
Kinda like being a star.
- I'm gonna throw up.|- What do you mean?
- I feel sick.|- No. Don't you dare.
Don't you dare throw up. Breathe. Take in|some air. Put your head out the window.
Well, don't drive so fast.
Don't drive so fast? What are you, mad?|I'm being chased by the cops!
When you're being chased by cops,|you drive fast. Got it?
Well, I get carsick!
Well, then, put your head out the goddamn|window! What are you waiting for?
She's got her head out the window!|What's she doing?
Maybe she's trying to signal us.
- Can you tell what she's saying?|- No, I can't make her face out clearly.
Oh! She's puking!
- Aah! - Gross!|- Oh, God!
- She's puking.!|- That will never make prime time.
That is a lot of puke.
I can't see a damn thing.
Oh, God.
Guess she wasn't signaling us.
- You okay?|- No.
Do me a favor, will ya.|Chew some gum or something.
Your breath smells|like my grandmother's feet.
Where are the other backups?|We only got one other car here with us.
Unit 39, most units unavailable|due to the funeral...
of Captain Lembeck|in Long Beach.
All remaining available units|should be en route.
If Lembeck knew that his funeral was impeding|a pursuit with hostages, he'd go nuts.
Get those other cops off their cans, will ya?|We're naked out here.
All available units, please respond in|the vicinity of San Remos and Point Vale.
High-speed pursuit in progress.
Red BMW...
license plate number 4-nickel-adam-thomas-|leo-edward-edward.
I do not run my division...
on a shoot first,|ask questions later philosophy!
- Excuse me, sir.|- Can't you see I'm busy?
I think you're gonna want to know|about this right away, sir.
Wejust got a positive I.D. on that red BMW.
Hold on to your beans, sir.|It's registered to a Miss Natalie Nordhoff Voss.
She's the young lady hostage, sir.
So who's Natalie Nordhoff Voss?
Voss, sir, like in Dalton Voss.
No. Not the Dalton Voss.
Are you saying that our hostage|belongs to Dalton Voss?
Yes, sir.|His one and only daughter.
- Holy shit!|- Yes, sir.
- How many cars in pursuit?|- Two, sir.
- Two? There oughta be 20! Why are there only two?|- Uh, the funeral, sir.
- A third car is on its way.|- Three stinking little cars.
- Where's our chopper?|- We loaned it to that film company, sir.
- Well, why the hell did we do that?|- You approved it, sir.
We haven't needed to use the chopper|since that Marin County brush fire, sir.
This is a fine how-do-you-do.|Get that chopper back now!
Now, who's Natalie Voss?
Only Dalton Voss's daughter.
Dalton Voss|is the Donald Trump of California.
One of the richest men in America.|You guys really struck gold tonight, huh?
Well, I gotta do what I gotta do.|Get down to Mexico much?
- No. Why?|- 'Cause that's where we're headed.
I wasn't planning on company, but...
Oh, my God! Mexico?
Oh, God, just stop the car and let me go!|Just let me out!
You are really starting|to get on my nerves.
I'm in a bit of a bind here, so put on|your seat belt. We're getting on the freeway.
Shit! This is bad!|This is really bad!
Oh, I can't say the "S" word|on TV, can I?
- It's cool. We'll bleep it.|- All right, yeah.
Why is this so "bad"?
Taking the chase on the freeway heightens|the stakes. It complicates things greatly.
This guy's really pissing me off!
Shit.
And if you're traveling|along the 5 into L. A...
And if you're traveling|along the 5 into L. A...
there's a slight bottleneck|along theJohn Wayne northbound.
Yeah, it seems an overturned gravel truck|on the shoulder is causing some slowing.
Other than that,|it's a pretty good commute into the n...
Whoa.! Wait a second.!|Wait a second.!
I think we got a situation developing|on the southbound lane.
Yes, it appears we're|picking up a high-speed pursuit.
Bill and Wendy,|do you see this in the studio?
Yes, Byron, we surely do.
It does appear as though we're watching|a high-speed chase unfold live.
Bill, I'm gonna follow this late-breaking|story, see if we can get a little bit closer.
Uh, Andy, uh, take it down a little bit|and see if you can stay with the red car.
Three Newport Beach police cars|are taking every precaution...
so as not to cause|any kind of traffic accident.
They seem to be following at a safe distance|behind what appears to be...
a late-model BMW.
Oh, yeah.|They're after this guy, all right.
He must've done something.
Whoa! Ho!|Did you see that?
Oh, n...|Watch out. Watch out.
Holy mackerel!
That medical school truck is spilling out|cadavers all along the freeway.!
That's repugnant.!
Gross!
Aaah! Get it off!
Jeez!
Get it off!
Eeeww!
Now, that's disgusting.
I'll say.|Stay with him, Byron.
We're going to try to get|some more information...
from the Newport Beach|Police Department...
on this fast-breaking, exclusive|Channel 8 high-speed chase in progress.
Oh, no! God!|Oh, my God!
Jesus! What are you trying to do,|give me a heart attack?
Rule number one|is no loud screaming.
I thought rule number one was|no burning the guy with the gun.
You might just be a little too feisty|for your own good.
Christ. Okay, rule number two is|no loud screaming.
Stop waving that thing in my face.
Am I holding the gun in your face?|I don't think so.
You know, I can be a pretty likable guy|when I'm not pointing a gun at somebody.
I know you don't believe me,|but it's true. You gotta trust me.
Aw, shit! Why do things|always go so wrong for me?
- Maybe you bring it on yourself.|- Maybe you don't know what you're talking about!
- Maybe I do.|- Maybe you're a brat.
Maybe I am.|Please just stop and let me out.
- I promise I won't let them shoot you.|- Oh, you won't. That's nice.
I appreciate that,|but I can't do that. Not yet.
So, seeing that we're gonna be traveling|companions for a while...
I thought we should|get better acquainted.
My name is Jack.|And you are?
- You can't do this.|- Do what?
This.! You c...
You can't just kidnap somebody|and threaten to kill them...
and then expect them|to be cute and nice.
- Why not?|- You just can't. Okay? It doesn't work that way.
You are a terrorist.|Why should I be nice back to you?
All right, first of all,|I am not a terrorist.
Terrorists have ratty beards|and blow up airports.
Secondly, there are no rules|on how to kidnap people.
There's no rule that says|you can't be cordial and nice.
And quite frankly, for my first time out,|I think I'm doing a hell of a job.
- Now tell me your name!|- Only if you get rid of the gun. It scares me.
Oh, right. I'll do that, you'll do|something stupid, I'll crash the car.
- I don't think so.|- I'm not gonna do anything stupid.
I just... I... I hate guns.
There? Are you satisfied?
- I'm only doing that to ease your mind.|- Thank you.
Now, as I said before, my name is Jack.|And you are?
Natalie. Natalie Voss.
Natalie Voss.
That's nice.
What, are you related|to Dalton Voss or something?
- He's my father.|- Yeah, right. Get out.
I- It was a joke. I was joking.
I wasn't.
This is insane. You're Dalton Voss's daughter?|The Dalton Voss?
Do you have any idea|how goddamn rich that man is?
Yes, thank you very much.
He is my father,|as if you didn't know.
As if I didn't know.
- What?|- I just... This just...
This just sucks! It sucks!
Because now they're gonna think I kidnapped|you because you're Dalton Voss's daughter.
Why me?|Why me?
I go in for some cigarettes|and a tank of gas...
and I wind up kidnapping|the daughter of Dalton Voss.
- What are the odds?|- I would say pretty good.
- You were probably stalking me.|- Don't flatter yourself, kid.
- I was just passing through town.|- A likely story.
Jesus, you are a brat.
This just in from the Newport Beach Police.
The owner of the BMW|has been identified...
as Miss Natalie Voss, daughter of|millionaire industrialist Dalton Voss.
Police speculate the gunman|followed Miss Voss...
with the intent|of kidnapping her for ransom.
Well, it certainly is obvious, Wendy,|that this kidnapping was no happenstance.
As you can see, police are taking|a more aggressive position...
tailing very close behind the BMW.
Shit.
Mr. Voss. Mrs. Voss.
I want you to know, as far as we can|ascertain your daughter is perfectly safe.
"Perfectly safe"?
She's being held hostage in the middle|of a goddamn high-speed chase!
How can you say|she's perfectly safe?
If she were perfectly safe, she'd be at home,|locked up, where she belongs!
Unharmed, sir, is what I meant.|Uh, perfectly unharmed.
Our officers are in diligent pursuit.
Oh, poor little Nattie|in her brand-new car.
You look here, Boyle.|Stop trying to give me this bullshit!
It was your incompetent officers that|allowed all this to happen in the first place!
I want my daughter|out of this jeopardy now!
I can assure you, Mr. Voss, my main concern|is your daughter's safety.
C.H.P. has been notified and will be|providing assistance from...
Just do your goddamn job|the right way for a change. All right?
Okay, okay, be cool, Jack. Don't panic.|Don't panic. Think, think, think, think.
Breathe. Things are|way out of control!
You did not actually kidnap anyone.
Oh, well, in case you've forgotten,|you kidnapped me!
I mean, I didn't intend|to kidnap anyone.
Pardon me,|but is there a difference?
Well, of course|there's a difference, you moron!
Intent means you planned something.|I didn't plan anything!
Oh, so somebody held a gun to your head|and made you hold a gun to my head!
In a way, yes.
God, it's filthy in here.
What's that stink?
Step right over here, please.
Give it to me quick, Patterson.
We got a beautiful shot, full on.
Right... now.
Let's see if I can get closer.
Look at his eyes.
- Chilling.|- Yeah.
So, who in the hell is he?
Uh, name:|Hammond, Jackson Davis. Age: 28.
"Escaped guards while being transferred from|San Francisco CountyJail to San Quentin...
after being sentenced|for a 1991 armed bank robbery. "
Hammond? Let me see that.
We were notified yesterday|he might be headed for Mexico.
You were notified yesterday and you did|nothing? What kind of place is this?
Mr. Voss, I stress, we were alerted he...|he might be headed this way.
He could have been headed|for Vegas or Utah just as easily.
- We're cops, not mind readers.|- Maybe you're not, but I am.
And I can see quite clearly you're gonna be|looking for a new goddamn job...
if one hair on my daughter's head|is harmed!
Do you hear me?|One hair.!
- Get this out in the field.|- Take his picture off that monitor! I don't wanna see it!
Attention, all units|in pursuit of red BMW.
Kidnapper identified as|Jackson Davis Hammond, age 28.
Escaped prisoner|convicted of armed bank robbery.
Shit! Goddamn bastard!
He's desperate.|This is really bad.
Things could get really messy now.
An escaped con.!|This is great.!
Real-life human drama|at its nitty-gritty best.
We've been keeping a lookout, but you never know|where a creep like this is gonna pop up next.
We're going in close|on the driver's side!
This guy's a lunatic!
We'll flank him on the passenger side,|squeeze him in.
Shit.!
- What? What?|- This has just gotten way too hairy.
- What do you mean, "hairy"?|- I mean hairy.!
This is too good.
Whoa!
- Holy Christ!|- Get that.! Get that.!
Oh, my God!|Did you see that?
Those vehicles tumbled across|the freeway like Matchbox cars.!
This is truly dramatic footage.!
Byron, was that a gunshot we saw|come out of the driver's side window?
Yes!|Yes, that's affirmative, Wendy!
It appears the assailant shot out the tires|on the cop car, causing the catastrophe.
This guy must be a sharpshooter to have|such impeccable aim at such high speeds.
Possibly an ex-marine.
Holy shit.
Did you see him flip over?|I didn't mean to do that.
Well, what do you think is gonna happen when|you shoot a tire out at 80 miles an hour?
I- I don't know. It just went off.|I didn't mean to shoot him.
What were you gonna do,|squirt water at him?
Shut up for a minute|and let me think!
Your voice is cutting|through my brain like nails.
What's that supposed to mean?
What, I have a shrilly voice?
Excuse me for not being|the perfect hostage.
I said shut up!
This whole thing|has gotten way too violent.
I... I h... I hate violence.
You hate violence?
You are the epitome of violence!
You're a gun-wielding, cop-shooting,|maniac kidnapper. Now, that's violent.
No, I am not!
Don't tell me what I am when you|don't know a damn thing about me!
There is a difference in being violent|and being driven to violence!
I am not a violent man.
God!
- Well, then what are you?|- I'll make it simple for you. All right?
I was convicted of a crime|I did not commit.
The system does not believe me.|Why should I expect you to?
That's who I am.
- You're right. I don't believe you.|- Well, there you go.
What kind of a crime?
What is that? What's that noise?
The phone.
Not a word out of you.
- What the hell?|- Press the "send" button.
Hello.
Jackson Hammond?|Chief Boyle, Newport Beach.
Son, why don't you pull over|to the side and let the girl go.
What do you say|we end this fiasco right now?
I promise to help you any way I can.
Nothing doing, Chief.
I don't give a damn|about your hollow promises.
- I've listened to empty hype for two years.|- For God's sake, Hammond.!
Aren't you in enough trouble?|What's this gonna prove?
There's no escape.|Just let the girl go before she gets hurt.
The girl is not gonna get hurt...
if you tell your officers|to get off my back.
- I can't do that.|- Get out of my way! Let me talk!
- Jackson Hammond, this is Dalton Voss.|- Daddy, help me! Do something!
If you harm my daughter, I'll kill you myself,|you stinking son of a bitch!
- You hear me?|- Tell him you're fine. Do it.
Natalie?
I'm fine.
There. You hear that? She's fine.
Well, Dalton Voss.|This is truly an honor.
Okay, Hammond, cut the crap.
- How much do you want?|- How much what do I want?
Money, you asshole.
I don't want to pander to you.|Just tell me how much you want, and it's yours.
That's very kind, Mr. Voss, but I'm really|not interested in your goddamn money.
Of course he's interested in your money.|What else could he want?
Don't make me lose|my patience, Hammond.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Fifty thousand dollars?|That's all your daughter's worth to you?
You're a billionaire.!|That's pathetic.!
All right, fine.|A hundred thousand dollars, then?
What the hell do you want?
An airplane? What?
I don't want your money.|I don't want your planes.
- Come on.! I didn'tjust fall off a turnip truck.|- Must've been a yam wagon.
Your pop's got a good sense of humor.
Let me talk to my daughter.
- Nattie, honey?|- I'm here.
Your father and I will get you out of this,|no matter what it costs.
Understand? Be brave, darling.
That man isn't trying|anything... funny, is he?
No, Yvonne. He isn't|trying anything "funny. "
Natalie, your mother and I...
- Stepmother!|- Natalie, don't start.
Well, she isn't my mother, is she?
Can we not go through this now? I'm being|held hostage in a speeding car. Remember?
Don't smart-mouth me.|You have put me in a very touchy situation.
I'm supposed to be on a plane for Paris,|for Christ's sake.!
- Sorry, Daddy.|- I swear, I don't know what's gotten into you.
It's been one headache after another.
What is your problem? I've tried to|give you everything you want.
She takes you for granted, Dalton.|She's spoiled.
Hey, hey, hey!|What's the matter with you people?
Your daughter is going through a crisis right|now and does not need to be berated like this!
- You listen to me, Hammond...|- No! You listen to me, Dalt!
Who talks to their daughter that way?
You oughta be ashamed of yourself.
She's obviously fallen into|an unfortunate situation here...
and could usejust|a little bit of compassion.!
You think about it, asshole.
No offense, but what a dickhead.
Tell me about it.
Hammond? Hammond?
Goddamn it!
As we continue our exclusive Channel 8|coverage, looks like help is on the way.
Three C.H.P. cars|and two C.H.P. cycles...
have just joined the Newport Beach Police|in pursuit of the BMW.
So far this guy has managed to evade...
the police's every attempt|to put an end...
to this heinous,|runaway-train scenario.
It never ceases to amaze me how many|people try and run from the cops.
I mean, what are they thinking?
Ehh! Hello?|I'm gonna outrun a policeman!
What's going on in their tiny minds?|Do they really think they're gonna get away?
Like take this Hammond guy.|We're gonna nail him!
This is a special edition|of Channel 8 News at 6:00.
Tonight, Terror on the Freeway!
Good evening.|I'm Bill Cromwell.
If you've just joined us,|tonight there's terror on the freeway.
As we follow live with exclusive coverage|from Skycopter 8...
a high-speed chase is now in progress.
Channel 8 News has learned that Newport|Beach millionaire Dalton Voss's daughter...
Natalie Voss...
is being held hostage by this man,|Jackson Davis Hammond.
- Wendy?|- Jack?
Jackson Hammond, also known|as the red-nosed robber...
was scheduled to begin serving|a 25-year prison sentence...
for an armed bank robbery in 1991...
before he escaped just 24 hours ago.
- Oh, Jack.|- Sounds pretty serious, Bill.
How right you are, Wendy.
Police are mum on Hammond's|specific ransom demands...
obviously trying to|negotiate a safe end...
to this horrific saga for Miss Voss.
Jack, you idiot.
Look at all those cops.
Nobody has ever talked that way|to my father before.
That's because everybody wants|something from him, including you.
- Me? I don't want anything from my father.|- Sure, you do.
- Like what?|- Like love, for instance. Respect.
To be treated|like a human being, like a woman.
Not like some baby girl, which is|obviously how he still sees you.
- Am I right?|- Maybe.
I think I'm right.
There's a big responsibility|to being Dalton Voss's daughter.
I never asked to be born|to Dalton Voss.
I just want to be like everybody else.
- That's not a hundred percent true.|- Yes, it is.
You mean, you'd rather be driving around|in a primered, used Chevy Nova...
than this brand-new BMW?
- Get real.|- It really wouldn't matter to me.
- Whatever.|- It's true.
Once you've had money all of your life,|it's not that big of a deal anymore.
Hey, honey, when you don't have money|all your life, it's a very big deal.
You guys ever been|on a chase this long before?
Are you kidding?|We go on chases all the time.
- Never this long though.|- Not this long, exactly.
But yeah, we go on a lot of chases.
Do you ever get scared?
- This... This is off the record, right?|- Of course.
Scared shitless.
- We're no wimps though.|- No, I'm not saying we're wimps.
It's just that...
We're just people, like everybody else.
Well, obviously we're people.|Standard issue street soldiers.
Standard issue street soldiers.
- That's a great tag line.|- Thanks. Came up with that myself.
So why do you hate your stepmom?
What makes you think I do?
- Just a hunch.|- She's a twit.
She obviously married my father for|his money, but he's too stupid to notice.
She tries to control everything|and everybody, but she can't control me.
Sounds like chaos.
I should have gone away to college.|Then I wouldn't have to listen to their bitching.
What about your real mom?
She lives in L.A.
Don't tell me.|You don't like her either, right?
No, I do. It's just that...
She'd rather be my best friend than my mom.
God, I get so frustrated,|I just wanna do something.
- Like what?|- I don't know. Something.!
Something other than what|I'm supposed to do.
If you look now, you'll see|how people are just opening up...
allowing this car to pass freely.
It's amazing that this far|the police haven't been able to stop him.
Oh, wonderful. Here comes the circus.
What is she doing here?
I happen to be|the girl's mother, thank you.
- How's my baby?|- She seems just fine, Mrs. Voss.
- We're doing everything we can.|- Ha. That's a laugh.
What's the matter, Dalton? Haven't you|been able to buy things right this time?
Dalton, don't listen to that.
- The truth hurts, doesn't it?|- Frances, I am not in the mood.
Dalton, you were never in the mood.
- I never!|- I never did either, married to him.
Folks, come on now. I know this tension|is unsettling, but please.
This bickering amongst yourselves|doesn't get us anything.
- Hodges, get the Vosses and Mr., uh...|- MacEnernie.
- MacEnernie some coffee.|- Yes, sir.
Chief, there's a Mr. AriJosephson|on the phone.
- He's Hammond's attorney from San Francisco.|- Why didn't you come get me?
This is Chief Boyle.|Talk to me.
Chief, this is AriJosephson.|I'm Jackson Hammond's attorney.
I just now found out about the predicament|my client got into down there.
I think I can help. If I could just talk to him,|I think I can get him to listen to reason.
- He listens to me.|- Do what you gotta do.
Only get him to let that girl out of the car|or Voss'll have all our heads!
Chief, I know Jackson Hammond.|The girl is gonna be just fine.
This is Corey Steinhoff standing on|the shoulder of the southbound lane...
of the 5 freeway|just past the Landview exit.
Behind me, traffic appears|to be flowing normally.
However, in the next few seconds|Channel 17 Hard-core News will bring you...
the first live, on-the-ground shots of|the hair-raising chase thatJackson Hammond...
Here they come. Here they come!
Uh, Byron, can you get us|closer to that BMW?
We want to get a glimpse|into one of those windows...
and maybe we can see|if Miss Voss is tied up...
or... or otherwise|restrained in any way.
Well, as you can see,|from the angle that I'm at...
it's, uh... it's pretty hard|to get a look into the window.
I mean, this baby is moving fast.!
- And Natalie Voss...|- Hey, hey. You're on the radio.
Are halfway to Tijuana right now|in her hijacked BMW.
Dalton Voss, you will remember,|was recently the subject of public outcry...
when he decided to tear down 14 blocks|oflow-income housing in East L. A...
to build a mid-city commuter airport.
I always liked the cowboy the best.
Domino's Pizza!
- Jack, it's me, Ari.|- It's my lawyer.
- Jack?|- Ari, I told you never to call me here.
Jack, this is wrong.|This is very, very wrong.
I mean, I know you're disappointed.
Disappointed? How about destroyed, Ari?|How about devastated?
- Jack, this is not the way to beat the system.|- Screw the system.
No, not screw the system.
Massage the system,|play the system, work the system...
but don't screw the system because|the system's gonna screw you more.
I massaged the system. Didn't I? Huh?|Didn't I do everything right?
Yeah, you did.
Yeah, damn straight I did.|Where did it get me? San Quentin.
- You can't give up now.|- What do you want me to do?
Sit around and rot for the next 25 years|while you come up with a better idea?
Wait a minute, Ari. Now I'm a kidnapper.|I'm probably looking at life.
Ah, forget it, pal.|This just ain't my year.
Look, Jack, why don't you|just let the girl out?
Nobody's gonna hurt you|if you just give yourself up.
You'll come back, we'll talk,|we'll figure something else out.
Maybe we can get|the public behind you.
Public outcry against injustice|is a very powerful tool.
Oh, yeah, the public's|gonna love my ass.
The red-nosed robber kidnaps the richest girl|in the country. Probably get my own sitcom.
- Don't underestimate the public.|- I ain't stoppin'.
I'm takin' this one all the way to Mexico.|I'm going Latin, chief.
Jack, Mexico isn't the answer.
You're innocent. We'll get a retrial,|get that blood test admissible.
You'll eventually get out.|So stop, give yourself up before it's too late.
Ari, in case I don't get|another chance to say this...
I just wanted to say|thanks for everything.
You're really the only|honest man I know.
You did something nobody else ever did, Ari.|You believed in me.
- I really appreciate that.|- Jack, quit talking crazy.
You're talking like it's over. Listen,|I still believe in you. I'm still working hard.
We can beat this thing together.|I can get you out.
I'm already out, Ari.|I'm already out.
I don't want my kids to be cops.
No, I'm out here every day risking my life|so they can have it better than me.
I got a kid who wants to be an astronaut.|I'd like to keep it that way.
Besides, being a cop|messes with your head.
How so?
I mean, every day, day in, day out,|you dealin' with the scum of the Earth.
The only people you come in contact|with are dope pushers...
and pimps and killers|and child molesters.
Pretty soon you start thinking|that everybody's rotten.
- Ari, I told you that... - Jack Hammond.|Jerry Kunkle, Channel 9 Hard-core News Live.
While I have you on this|Channel 9 exclusive interview...
let me ask you a question|I know is on the minds of all our viewers.
Just what do you intend to do|when that car runs out of gas?
That's the question on the minds|of all your viewers?
Whether I'll run out of gas or not?
Tell you what, Jer.|You let your viewers know...
that I hope Miss Voss's fear|and my desperation...
are entertainment enough for them.
After all, that's what|this is all about, right?
What makes for good television?
The story as it breaks, live, coming to you|from the bad guy himself?
I mean, we wouldn't want your viewers|to change the fucking channel, would we?
What the hell's this world coming to?
- Nice.|- I'm sorry.
I'll buy you a new one.
Subject has just passed|Flowerbowl. I'm about 30 yards back.
- Stay with him. I'm coming on your right.|- I can't see him. Where is he?
- He's in front of the Pier One truck!|- All right.
We just passed the Flowerbowl.|They'll be coming up soon.
So just slow down a little, Dale.
I'm pumped, man.|Pumped! Stupid cops.
- Stupid!|- Couldn't stop a snail on a salt bed.
- You see him yet?|- No, not yet.
- When you see him, tell me quick!|- I will!
- Now...|- Yeah?
When I give the order, you ram him hard|into the guard rail, Dale.
- That'll stop him.|- I'm a road warrior!
- I know you are, Dale.|- I am.
Time to stop those yuppie punks, Dale!
- Dude, are we gonna be on TV?|- You know we are, dude.
- That's hot.|- You know we are.
Did either of you ever actually kill anybody?
Not yet.
I did.
How did it feel?
It didn't feel like|I thought it would.
It felt shitty.
It felt wrong.
But what can you do?
Partner, there's nothing|you could do.
That's what I keep telling myself.
Of course I'd do it again if I had to.|I mean, it's my job.
- Hold that thought. I gotta change tapes.|- This is great stuff, guys.
I mean, really, really, really good stuff.|Real true-to-life.
- I love it.|- Thanks. Thanks a lot.
All right, come on down.!|Set it right here.!
That's good.!
Move, move, move.!
I want you over there.
Hey! Watch it.
We're up.
Bill, Wendy, Tom Capone standing here at|the border between California and Tijuana.
As you can see behind me...
the San Diego P.D. and the C.H.P.|are working feverishly...
to create an impenetrable|wall of force...
here at the gateway into Mexico...
in hopes of stopping this heinous chase|from crossing the border.
Is such a radical measure safe|for the captive Miss Voss?
The San Diego P.D. says yes,|the critics say no...
but only time will tell.
Hello, San Diego.
Afternoon, Newport.
What are you doing?
- I was going to offer you a piece of gum.|- Oh.
- What'd you think was in there, a knife or something?|- You could have mace.
If I had mace, I would have used it by now.|You're not a smart criminal.
Thank you.|That's what I've been trying to tell you.
So are you gonna tell me|why you're on the run?
You wouldn't believe me.|I'm not so sure I believe me anymore.
- Try me.|- Promise you won't laugh.
Why would I laugh?
Okay, two years ago, I'm sittin' at home,|watchin' a ball game.
- Dodgers are losing.|- I hate the Dodgers.
- You wanna hear this or not?|- I'm sorry.
At the same time,|on the other side of the city...
there's some guy robbing a bank,|dressed like a clown.
- A clown?|- Yes, a clown.
It seems that some jerk|had knocked off several banks...
in a clown outfit.
The media, in all of their originality,|picked up on this...
and labeled him the red-nosed robber.
So I'm coming out of Osco's|a couple days later.
There's two cops waiting for me.|Bang, they haul me in.
- Why would they haul you in?|- Let me get to that.
I was stuck in Sonoma.
The only job I could wrangle was playin'|a clown at kids' birthday parties...
which wasn't such a bad gig.
Flexible hours,|a lot of free cake.
One of my neighbors, some old battle-ax,|sees the story on the news.
She calls the cops.
They get a search warrant,|crash down the door, find the costume.
- It's all over.|- Did you have to wear those big shoes?
I knew you'd make fun of me.
I'm sorry. I'm not.|I'm not. Go on.
So Ari keeps saying, "Don't worry.|They don't put innocent people in jail. "
Well, he was obviously wrong|because they do.
- What are you looking at?|- I don't quite picture you as a clown.
- So you don't believe me.|- I didn't say that.
They're here!|That's them!
- Ram 'em!|- Time to be heroes!
- Missed 'em!|- Hey! Look out!
- I missed 'em.!|- Adjust, Dale!
- Jack!|- What the hell is that guy doing?
Okay! I got it! I got it!
Back the other way!
Whoa!
Oh, no!
Holy mother of God!
You've gotta be kidding me.
Oh, my God!|Do something!
Bill, Wendy!|Are you seeing this in the studio?
Do something!
Oh, my God.!
Astonishing and tragic imagery.
A green monster truck...
obviously an undercover|law enforcement vehicle...
made a valiant attempt|to sideswipe the BMW...
with disastrous results.
Almost ready, Mr. Josephson.
That was a pretty dangerous|and radical maneuver from the police...
especially with a hostage at risk|and that roadblock up ahead.
- Wouldn't you say, Byron?|- Radical? Yes.
But I imagine these cops|are getting awfully desperate.
- Three, two. You're on.|- Randy, thank you very much.
This is Paul Dandridge with Channel 3's live,|on-the-scene, exclusive interview...
with Jackson Hammond's|attorney, AriJosephson.
Mr. Josephson,|if Mr. Hammond is innocent...
why was he found guilty|beyond a reasonable doubt by a jury?
During the bank robbery,|the actual thief cut his hand...
on the teller's paper spindle.
A sample of that dried blood|was taken and tested...
and compared with a sample|of my client's blood.
Jack's blood is type "B" positive.
The red-nosed robber's blood is type "A."
But because the evidence was collected|improperly from the crime scene...
it was deemed inadmissible in court.
Thank you very much.|Let's go back to the studio.
Hey.! Hey, look at that.|You're a folk hero already.
I don't care.
If you ask me, I think your lawyer's right...|you should keep on fighting.
Almost sounds like you believe me.
You don't strike me as the kind of guy|who gives up that easily.
What makes you think that?
- Ah, that.|- Yeah, that.
I'm 28 years old, Natalie.|I got a lot of good years ahead of me.
I'm not going to waste them away|in some prison.
- Yeah, but...|- Yeah, but what?
While you're out getting married|and taking vacations...
and having barbecues|in the backyard...
and getting all excited|about your kid's first tooth...
I'll be in a concrete cell|surrounded by murderers and rapists...
large hairy-backed men|who think I have a real cute ass.
I am sorry, but it's just not my style.
There's got to be|something you can do.
I mean, if the blood test proves it, why can't|you just stand up in court and scream it?
This is your life we're talking about.
They've got all these|little rules and precedents...
and procedures|and legal loopholes...
and all these fancy words|and books...
all this crap that's more important|than a human being.
- So that's it?|- Just about, yeah.
- When were you sentenced?|- Yesterday.
- So that's why you ran?|- Yep.
- And that's why you stole the car.|- Yep.
And that's why you freaked out|when you saw the cops and grabbed me?
You're catching on fast, kid.
I don't blame you.
I do not know why, but...
- I believe you, Jack.|- Thanks.
That means a lot to me.
And so to be able to almost bust|someone before they do the crime...
you have to be somewhat telepathic.
So that's why I see myself|as almost a prophet.
A street prophet, if you will.
I got to change microphones.
- What?|- I gotta fix the mike. It'll just take a second.
I gotta get that...
Back off! Back off, will you!|That's dangerous!
Get-Get down,|you stupid little nothing!
- What is this?|- What?
I don't believe this.
This is Frank Smuntz, Channel 12|San Diego Evening News...
riding in the thick of|the police high-speed chase.
As you can see, Channel 12 is the first newscast|to get a close-up look...
into the face of this runaway horror.
If we're lucky, we're hoping to get a visual|conformation on the condition of the hostage.
Miss Voss.!
Miss Voss!
Can you give us a thumbs-up|if you're okay?
- Right here, pal.|- Can we show that on TV?
Uh, Frank? Frank?
Um, it appears we've lost our feed there|from Frank Smuntz...
riding right alongside|that speeding BMW.
- Lolly.|- Thanks, Steve.
I think before we continue we should take|a moment to apologize to our viewers...
for that obscene gesture you just saw coming|from the window of that speeding car.
Yes. That's the risk we take|with live TV, isn't it, Lolly?
That's right. We'll be back|with more live coverage...
of Kidnapped At|100 Miles Per Hour...
after these messages.
Oh, I've had my share of boyfriends.
But they've all been losers.|You know... boring.
They'd have to be.|My father had to approve of them all.
Old Dalt can't be that bad.|He must have done something right.
- Why?|- Well, look how great you turned out to be.
Oh, me? Come on.|I'm a total basket case.
You don't even know the half of it.
No, no. My intuition|about people is very good.
I could tell right away|you had your act together.
Yeah? When did you decide that?
In the convenience store|when we shared that look. Remember?
Yeah.
Thought to myself|only if life were different...
maybe I could meet|a girl like that someday.
- Really?|- Swear to God.
Believe it or not, when I was|holding the gun to your back...
I couldn't help but notice|how lovely your hair smelled.
- You're crazy.|- That would be affirmative.
You know, you really hurt me|with that gun.
- You didn't have to jam it into my back so hard.|- I'm sorry.
About the gun, uh...
- What?|- It makes a handy weapon in a pinch.
You kidnapped me with a candy bar?
Well, you have to admit|it was rather inventive.
Oh, God.
Don't be upset. If I'd had a real gun,|I would have used it.
It sure felt like a gun.
I thought for sure everybody|would hear the wrapper crinkle.
Oh, God.|I can just see the headline now.
- Hey. Hey, candy thief.|- "Kidnapper Exposed When Candy Gun Melts In Hand. "
Hey! Hey! Come on.
Thanks. Thank you.
If my father only knew you|kidnapped me with a candy bar.
Think of the embarrassment.
Oh, God, what a jerk.
You know, he's probably thinking right now|about how he can use all this publicity...
'cause he wants to run|for governor of California.
Now listen, once|this whole fiasco is over...
I want you to get me and Natalie|on A.M. San Diego...
and all the national morning shows.
Call Ted Turner.
Tell him I'll give him an exclusive|first once this insane thing is wrapped up...
in exchange for some good publicity.
He owes me one.|Uh, you get to work. I'll call you back.
- Mr. Voss?|- What is it?
- Our chopper's back.|- Well, it's about time. Get me to that barricade.
Thanks, Rocky. This is Paige Grunion|with Channel 17 Hard-core News.
I am coming to you live on|the shoulder of the 5 Freeway.
And standing here with me|are Will and Dale.
They are the drivers|of the green monster van.
- Tell me, gentlemen...|- Monster truck.
Monster truck. What possessed you to|take such radical and desperate measures...
to stop the BMWyourselves?
Oh! Dude! We are just doing our duty|as Americans. Right, Will?
That's right. And that's not the first time|we've had to take matters into our own hands.
Mark my words,|they'll be pulling over soon.
We really scared them.|Didn't we? Didn't we?
- Did you see the look on their faces?|- Sure did.
- Whoa!|- And we'd be happy to tell anyone about it. Anyone.
- Anytime!|- On-On Oprah. Or Geraldo.
- Or SallyJesse. Or any-any...|- Larry King. Larry King.
Yeah. Or any of those shows.
That's right. And you can usually find us|at Big Willy's Dirty Dogs. Most times.
My name is Will, and this is Dale.
And we've been through a lot ofheavy stuff|in that truck before.
- Monster madness, dude.|- Major monster madness.
- Gentlemen, please.|- What? But-But...
- We're not fooling around! We're not fooling around!|- Get in the back.
Sometimes you got to take the bull by|the horns! We're American citizens!
And there you have it. Who says the great|American hero is a thing of the past?
- Back to you, Rocky...|- I hope you can see this, Bill and Wendy.
It's like a circus down there.
You know, Byron, it's easy for us|reporting this story...
to forget there's a very scared|little girl inside that car.
We can only imagine,|as this chase continues...
the horror young Natalie Voss|is experiencing right now.
Oh, shit.
- Just-Just hold still.|- It stings.
- Mm!|- I don't want it to get infected.
- I'm so sorry about this.|- As you should be.
- What are you doing?|- You're sweating.
I've never met anybody|quite like you, Jack.
I wish things were different.
I'm really a pretty likable guy|when I'm not a fugitive.
I wish things were different too.
Isn't it funny how people meet?
I mean, they can come from|two totally different worlds...
and never even know|each other exists.
And then one day they meet|and their lives are never the same.
- Are you married?|- No.
Do you have a girlfriend?
No, I don't have a girlfriend.
And it's true that...
you haven't been with a woman|in a couple of years?
It's true, yeah.
If all this doesn't work out,|you'll go back to prison, right?
Probably.
So it's conceivable that...
you'd never be with a woman|ever again, right?
Right.
What are you doing?
Falling in love with you.
Natalie, you can't...|We can't do this.
I can't help it.
We may never have|this chance again.
Wait a second.|Wait a second.
Can't see the road.
There it is. There's the road.
Ten more miles, do or die.
What the hell is he|swerving all over for?
I just figured it all out.
It's just like you said.|I'm your insurance policy.
What are you talking about?
Well, as long as I'm your hostage,|they can't get to you.
You can demand a ransom|from my father...
we'll take the money, we'll escape to Mexico|just like you said.
Hey, hey, hey.|Hold on a minute here, Patty Hearst.
- What?|- On second thought, maybe Mexico ain't such a hot idea.
We'll have to wait in line at the border|while they check the trunk for illegal fruit.
- I mean, come on.|- No, I'm completely serious. They'll never be able to get us.
I'm your hostage. There's no way they could|possibly think we're in this together.
It's getting close.|It's getting real close.
Subject vehicle, red BMW...
now approaching|with suspect and hostage.
- All officers take your positions.|- Move! Come on! Come on!
Prepare to engage suspect.
All emergency services|remain in position.
Fire, be ready with foam.
Paramedics, stand by.
- This could actually work.|- Yes, it's gonna work. It's gonna work.
- All right.|- I know this beautiful spot in Cabo San Lucas...
where the beaches are gorgeous.
God, this is so romantic.
Have you noticed that there's no other cars|on the road anymore?
Cars?
Attention.! Subject vehicle|is 500 yards and approaching fast.
All personnel stand clear|of the barricade.
Oh, my God.
- Strap in!|- Oh, shit!
Strap in! Hang on!
Maybe this whole thing|wasn't such a hot idea after all.
This is it!
- This is more exciting than election night!|- Box 'em in! Box 'em in!
- Do something!|- Like what?
I don't know! Anything!
- What are you doing?|- Anything!
Holy shit!
This is unheard-of!|The surprise roadblock has backfired!
- Hammond's outsmarted the cops!|- Get in control out there! Stop that damn car!
Don't panic!
- The tension is unbearable!|- Shit! - Yes, sir!
- Stay close to your sets.!|- Oh! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!
You're not gonna die! Relax!
Keep shooting!|Think of my Emmy!
Take your stinking paws off me,|you damn dirty ape!
Monkeys.
Fix this damn thing.
Whoo!
Hammond seems to be...|Bill, Wendy, can you see this?
Hammond is leading the pursuit in|a giant game of ring-around-the-rosy.
Jack, you anti-hero, if you're|going to get away, get away now.
Bill, this is really ridiculous. It's pretty clear|now that this guy, Jack Hammond...
is just toying with the police.
I hope they put him away|for a long time.
- You are dead serious about going with me?|- Serious as a heart attack.
You are absolutely, positively,|100% sure about this?
I have never been more sure|about anything in my entire life.
- We'll be fugitives.|- Sounds exciting.
- You won't be Natalie Voss anymore.|- Who the hell is she anyway?
I don't know. I don't know. But you're|going to give up everything for me?
Don't flatter yourself.|I'm doing it for me too.
Of course you are.
This is it.!
Let go of the girl, Hammond!
What are you doing?|Let's keep going.
Look, Natalie,|if I had things my way...
you'd be the girl I'd run away|to paradise with.
But I'm gonna be your hostage.
Natalie, it's over.
I can't let you ruin your life|because of me.
- I think it's time for you to go home now.|- You can't mean that.
You know, until yesterday...
the worst thing I ever did in|my whole life was cheat on a biology exam.
And now I'm a car thief...
a kidnapper...
cop-shooter, police-evader.
I can't do this to you.
I can't make you|part of this anymore.
I care about you too much.
Besides, I can't hold you|hostage anymore.
We ate the gun.
But you have the real gun.
Uh...
real guns make me nervous.
I do better with the candy ones.
Jack, you're innocent.
We can make this work.
You... You're really something.|You know that?
- Thank you.|- For what?
For believing in me.
Let the girl go now, Hammond!
It's been a hell of a ride, huh, kid?
What say you, uh...
step out of the car|and walk away from me?
- I'll be fine.|- You come with me.
You first.|I'm right behind you.
Miss Voss.!|Miss Voss.! Okay, stay down.
Oh, you're a lucky girl.|You're a lucky girl.
Just get behind the door there.|Just get right behind the door there.
We will take care of him.|Don't worry.
Boy, I hope he tries something now.
Come on, Hammond.|Just give me one reason.
Way to go, Jack.|Way to go.
Come on, Hammond!|You're in a no-win situation!
Put your hands out of the car|where I can see them!
- Stand up, Hammond.! Stand up.!|- Get up.! Turn around, turn around.!
Turn around.! Hands on your head.!|On your head.!
You know the drill.
- You got him? You got him.|- We got you now, my friend. Take it nice and easy now.
- Eyes forward.|- Nice and easy. That hand down!
- Nice and easy.|- They're on him!
Damn.! I'd love to kill you.!
- What the...|- You got it?
- Cigarettes.|- Ha!
I wish you'd run.
I'd love to kill you.|I would love to kill you.
But you can't run,|'cause you're busted.!
Eyes forward!
Eyes forward!
I don't like you.
Keep your gun on him.!|Keep your gun on him.!
Ain't nothing gonna|help you, Hammond.
I'm sorry about all this, Mr. Voss.
Your daughter is a fine young lady.
This is the money shot, Ned.|The father-daughter reunion.
- Beautiful.|- He didn't hurt me. He's innocent.
- He's innocent!|- Later.
That really was funny. That was really funny|how that guy smacked you.
Give him his rights.
Now that we're spending|all this quality time together...
let me tell you about your rights.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be|used against you in a court oflaw.
If you do not have an attorney,|one will be assigned to you.
Do you understand all the rights|I have read to you right now?
- Yes.|- Good boy. Now shut up.!
- How's it look? How's it look?|- It's beautiful.
Know what happens to pretty boys like you|when they go to prison after the lights go out?
"Oh, girlfriend.! Oh, girlfriend.!"
Shots fired.!
- Uncuff him now!|- What? What the hell?
What in God's name?|Have you lost your mind, young lady?
I said uncuff|Jack Hammond now!
Come on, Miss Voss. Put the gun down.|You don't know what you're doing.
This guy's brainwashed you.|Now come on.
- Ned, get a shot of this!|- Natalie, stop embarrassing me.
Do it, or I'll blow his brains out|all over live TV.
Miss Voss, don't do it.|You're confused. He's confused you.
- It's very confusing.|- Don't move!
I said, don't move.!
I mean business.
Goddamn it.! Would you think about what|you're doing.! This guy's a scumbag.!
He doesn't want you! He's only using you!|Come on! Put the gun down!
Back away from Jack now!
- You've gone completely crazy. You know that?|- Thanks for noticing.
How do you plan to get us|out of this one?
Watch me and weep.
It takes all kinds, Dalt.
Okay, Bill, Wendy,|I hope you're getting this.
They are walking directly|towards the helicopter...
and they're staring at me|like a couple of crazed dogs.
I'm gonna try to get a word|from them if I can.
This is unbelievable,|ladies and gentlemen. This...
- Oh, my... - Get out of there.|- Let's go, pal. Let's go.
- I'm being asked...|- Come on! Go! Go!
I'm being removed from my own helicopter,|ladies and gentlemen.
The first margarita's on me.
Not so fast.
Did you get it?|Did you? Yes!
I want big!|I want cinematic!
I want...|I want Pennebaker.!
Get this. Get the copter.
You smell that?
Do you smell that?
Nothing else in the world|smells like that, son.
I love the smell of napalm|in the morning.
You know one day|we had a hill bombed.
When I walked out, we didn't find|one of them. Not one stinking dink body.
But that smell.|That gasoline smell. The whole hill.
It smelled like... victory.