This is a true story about friendship
that runs deeper than blood.
This is my story and that of
the only three friends in my life...
who truly mattered.
Two of them were killers
who never made it past the age of 30.
The other is a nonpracticing attorney
living with the pain of his past...
too afraid to let it go,
never confronting its horror.
I'm the only one who can speak for them
and the children we were.
Walk, walk
Walk, walk
My three friends and I
were inseparable...
happy and content to live
in the closed world of Hell's Kitchen.
The West Side streets of Manhattan
were our private playground.
A cement kingdom where we felt ourselves
to be nothing less than absolute rulers.
Hell's Kitchen was populated
by an uneasy blend of Irish, Italian...
Puerto Rican
and Eastern European laborers.
Hard men living hard lives.
Move it!
He said
Walk like a man
Talk like a man
Shut the fuck up!
We lived in railroad apartments
inside redbrick tenements.
Few mothers worked and all had
trouble with the men they married.
Get the fuck down and shut up!
Get the fuck down!
Get the fuck down
and shut the fuck up!
I buried one fucking wife,
I can bury another one.
Domestic violence was
a cottage industry in Hell's Kitchen...
yet there was no divorce
and few separations.
The will of the church was forceful.
For a marriage to end,
someone usually had to die.
Yet despite the harshness of life...
Hell's Kitchen offered
the kids on its streets a safety net...
enjoyed by few other neighborhoods.
Crimes against people of the
neighborhood were not permitted.
When they did occur,
the punishment doled out was severe...
and in some cases final.
A drug dealer from
an uptown neighborhood...
moved heroin into Hell's Kitchen.
Packet killed the 12-year-old son
of a Puerto Rican numbers runner.
It was the last packet
the dealer ever sold.
Hell's Kitchen was a place of innocence
ruled by corruption.
My friends and I spent lots of time
inside Holy Angels.
We each served as altar boys.
Everyone wanted
to work funeral masses...
since the funeral
included a $3 fee...
and more if you looked
sufficiently somber.
There was an active competition
between the four of us...
to come up with
the best and boldest prank.
Two weeks into the new school year
I found the nuns' clacker...
in the school hallway,
and I was ready for the big leagues.
l... I'm very pleased that so many
boys and girls are going to...
In church it was used
to alert the girls as to when...
they should stand,
sit, kneel and genuflect...
all based on the number of times
a clacker was pressed.
In my pocket, it was cause for havoc.
And, uh, it will be a great day.
You will be defenders of the faith...
you will be soldiers of Christ...
and you will receive the gifts...
of the Holy Spirit.
Well, it's gonna be a great day...
and your parents
will be very proud of you.
When you were baptized,
godparents made promises for you...
and now you're gonna
confirm those promises.
Let me have the clacker.
- What clacker?
- Now.
Let everyone rise.
Let us pray.
Nuns are such easy targets.
John and I spent more time
in church than the others.
We were the only two of the group
to give any thought of entering
the priesthood.
And John and I were intrigued
by the powers a priest was given.
A secret world of betrayal
and deceit...
where people openly admitted
dark misdeeds and vile indiscretions.
Confession was better than any book
we could get our hands on...
or any movie we could see,
because the sins were real...
committed by people we knew.
The temptation to be part of that
was far too great to resist.
If we get caught, they'll burn us.
What if our mothers are out there?
What if we end up
hearing their confessions?
- Yeah, what if we hear something worse?
- Like what?
Like a murder.
What if somebody
cops to a murder?
Relax. All we gotta do is sit back,
listen, and remember not to laugh.
Hide.
Seconds later,
our booth comes to life.
l, uh, sleep with married men.
Men with families.
In the morning I tell myself
it's the last time, but it never is.
Yes?
You see, I'm, uh...
I'm pregnant.
- The father?
- Huh, take a number.
- What are you going to do?
- I know what you want me to do.
And I know what I should do.
I just don't know what I'm gonna do.
Look, I gotta go.
Thanks for listenin', fellas.
I really appreciated it.
I know you'll keep it to yourselves.
- She knew.
- Yeah, she knew.
Why do you think she told us all that?
I don't know.
I guess she had to tell somebody.
Father Robert Carillo
was a longshoreman's son...
who was as comfortable sitting
on a barstool in a back-alley saloon...
as he was standing at the altar
during High Mass.
He had toyed with the life of petty
crime before finding his calling.
He was a friend. A friend
who just happened to be a priest.
You know what crap like that
does to your body?
Come on, Father. It beats smoking,
and it's cheaper too.
Maybe.
- So what do you hear? Anything?
- No, nothin'.
I hear you're interested
in becomin' a priest.
Who says?
Word is, you wanna get the feel
of a confessional booth.
I don't know
what you're talking about, Father.
- You don't, huh?
- No.
Well, maybe I got
the wrong information.
Yeah, I guess you did.
I'll see you later tonight.
What's tonight?
I gotta drop some books
and magazines off...
for the elderly and disabled
around the neighborhood.
- Your mother said you'd love to help.
- Yeah, I bet she did.
Shakes, I don't want you
getting into any trouble.
Come on, Father.
You know I never do.
That's all I wish
for you and your friends.
- That's it?
- That's it. Nothing else. I swear.
- That's it.
- You know, a priest shouldn't swear.
And kids shouldn't be listening
to other people's confessions.
- I'll see you tonight.
- All right. See you.
Okay.
Michael was the most sexually
experienced of our group...
which meant that he kissed a girl
on more than one occasion.
But his real love was Carol Martinez.
Hell's Kitchen's half-breed...
half Puerto Rican, half Irish.
She was raised by her father,
her mother having died at childbirth.
Carol stayed pretty much to herself, but
was always comfortable in our company.
We could always count on Carol
to stand sentry...
on the first night of the Ice Capades.
While crowds of families
lined the front of the Garden...
waiting to see the skaters perform...
we each had one eye in a hole...
watching two dozen beautiful,
nearly naked women...
get into their skaters' outfits.
This is what heaven must be about.
Good, good, good, good vibrations
Oh, my God!
- Hey, uh, Carol, you wanna take a look?
- Like it's something I haven't seen.
So lucky. Oh, wow.
She's so beautiful.
Oh, my...
I could die now,
and I wouldn't be sad.
When my friends and I were young...
Hell's Kitchen was run
by a man named King Benny.
When he was young, King Benny
was a hit man for Lucky Luciano.
Lucky Luciano did a lot of good
for this country during World War II...
but you ain't gonna read about that
in any fucking history book.
There was talk King Benny
was the shooter of Mad Dog Coll...
that prick on West 23rd Street.
He ran bootleg with Dutch Schultz...
and he opened up a couple of clubs
with Tough Tony Anastasia.
I was 14 when I first heard about him.
The story goes, as a kid
he wasn't much of anything.
He was always getting the shit
kicked out of him in street fights.
And then one day...
and who the fuck knows why...
some Irish guy about 25 years old...
he takes King Benny and he flings him
down a flight of stairs.
King Benny breaks
all his teeth in the front.
You know what King Benny does?
He waits.
He waits eight years
to get even with that prick.
He walks into a public bathhouse.
The guy's soaking in the tub.
King Benny
takes out his front teeth.
He lays 'em down on the sink.
Then he looks over at the guy
and he says...
"When I look in the mirror,
I see your face."
Then he pulls out a gun...
and he shoots the guy
twice in each leg.
Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Then he says to the guy...
" Now when you take a bath
you see mine."
No one ever fucked
with King Benny after that.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Can I talk to you for a minute?
I'd like to work for you,
help you out, whatever you need.
You're the butcher's kid.
Am I right?
- Yeah.
- Well...
what kind of job
are you looking for?
Whatever.
It doesn't matter.
Oh, doesn't matter, huh?
Everybody says this is the place
to come for jobs.
- Who is "everybody"?
- People from the neighborhood.
Oh, them.
Let me ask you,
what the fuck do they know?
They know you got jobs.
Sorry I wasted your time.
- Hold on a sec.
- Yeah?
Come back tomorrow
if you wanna work.
- What time tomorrow?
- Anytime.
- You'll be here?
- I'm always here.
My first job for King Benny
paid $25 a week...
and ate up only 40 minutes
of my time.
In the dark clubroom, one of the guys
would hand me a crumpled paper bag...
and direct me to one of the two
local police precincts for delivery.
Hey, it was a perfect way
to handle payouts.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Come on.
Let's go. Right here. See what kind
of cash you got in that bag.
You gotta be nuts.
You know who you're taking off?
Yeah, we know,
and we're scared shitless.
Give me the bag.
Give me the fucking bag!
Hey, what you do there?
- Answer me! What you do there?
- Relax.
- They stopped me and took my money.
- You took the money from the boy?
- The money they took is in the bag.
- Let me have the bag.
- Fuck you!
- Oh, yeah? How about now?
- All right, all right, take it easy.
- Ah, you're not smart anymore.
- Take it easy.
- Now you... This make you stupid.
Let me have the bag.
All right. Thanks, kid.
Now go.
- What about them?
- You care?
- No.
- Then go! Go! Run!
I need somebody with me.
What if the old guy hadn't shown?
- What you need?
- My friends.
Your friends?
What do you think, this is camp?
These kids you can trust.
I've known 'em half my life.
Okay, get your friends.
Father Bobby knew my friends and I
worked for King Benny...
and he wasn't pleased.
He wasn't worried about
the pocket money, but the next step...
when they ask you to pick up a gun.
He didn't want that to happen to us.
You think running for King Benny
is a good idea, huh?
- It pays.
- Pays? A lot of things pay.
Not like this.
Whoa!
Most priests liked to preach
from the pulpit.
Father Bobby liked to talk during
the bump and shove of a pickup game.
- Oh, good shot!
- All right, you the man.
- I found an art class for you to take.
- You know I can't afford
to take any art classes.
No, you don't have to pay anything.
Teacher's a friend of mine. Hmm?
- I don't know. It could be
nothing but a waste of time, Father.
- Maybe.
- Or it could be the first step.
- First step to what?
- To doing somethin' with your life.
You never know.
It may help you get out of here.
- You all could get out of here.
- Guys, are we gonna talk
or play basketball?
Come on. Let's play.
- Listen, I got a story I wanna tell you.
- It ain't the one about
the lepers, is it?
- 'Cause that one gave me nightmares.
- No lepers. Michelangelo.
He was born poor just like you guys.
He was a painter. He was a sculptor.
He takes this job from the pope.
Good money, good work.
Okay, Father, but, uh,
why'd the pope call him?
Because the pope was looking
for the best guy he could find...
to paint the ceiling
of his church in Rome.
- Don't sound like
that big a job, Father.
- Well, to Michelangelo, it was.
Michelangelo needed the...
needed the job...
'cause it paid more money
than he ever had in his life.
That way, he could pay off
the loan sharks that were
chasing his father down.
- What's his father?
- He was, uh, like a low-level con guy.
He conned people
out of money, goats, sheep.
- Goats?
- Chickens, whatever he could.
- Chickens?
- Chickens?
- Chickens?
- You know what happened?
- What?
- What?
He painted a ceiling
no one will ever forget.
Painted like it was touched
by the hand of God.
- Did he pay off the loans?
- Every single one.
Hey, Father, how long did it take him?
You know, painting the ceiling and all?
- Took him about nine years.
- Nine years?
- That's right.
- That's a big ceiling.
I had a Puerto Rican guy
do my whole apartment in two days.
And he had a bum leg.
You know, I don't know
what I'm gonna do with you guys.
- Hey, just give us a job painting.
- You know what it was?
You know what it was?
- The Sistine Chapel.
- Sixteenth Chapel?
- Sistine Chapel.
- Who painted the other 15?
Outside events meant little.
In a society changing radically
by the hour...
we watched the images scatter nightly
across the TV screens.
Young protesters spoke about
how they were gonna change our lives...
and fix the world.
But while they shouted their slogans...
my friends and I
went to funeral services...
for the young men of Hell's Kitchen...
who came back from Vietnam
in body bags.
We viewed with skepticism
the faces on television...
those protected by money
and upper middle-class standing.
A growing army of feminists
marched across the country...
demanding equality...
yet our mothers still
cooked and cared for men...
who abused them
mentally and physically.
For me and my friends,
these developments carried no weight.
They might as well have occurred
in another country...
in another century.
Our attention was elsewhere.
We sat with Father Bobby in a third
floor hospital ward visiting John...
hoping he'd recover
from a punctured lung...
a gift from one of his mother's
overzealous boyfriends.
I hope you like these.
- You better not tell me you don't.
- Okay.
Father Bobby
didn't let that situation rest.
- I gave on Sunday. I'm in a rush, okay?
- John Reilly.
Little punk. He got out of line,
so I put him back in line. No big deal.
- You put him in the hospital.
- He's alive, ain't he?
Look, if he's smart
he learned himself a lesson.
- What are you, about 220? 230?
- Yeah.
You're a big guy. How much
do you thinkJohn Reilly weighs?
That's not even a featherweight.
If this were a fight,
you'd be way out of your division.
Look, it was a slap.
It was nothing.
Well, next time you'll be meeting me.
And I may not be in your division...
but I do weigh more than 85 pounds.
And you won't need a doctor
when I'm done.
You'll need a priest
to pray over your body.
See you in church.
Father Bobby would have
made a good hit man.
It's a shame we lost him
to the other side.
We were down 7-6 in the last inning
of a sewer-to-sewer stickball game...
- Against Hector Maldonado
and three of his friends.
- Come on, Mike.
Come on, Davy!
Strike this chump out!
- He got nothin'!
- Shut up!
- Who's that?
- Sister.
- What happened to her?
- I'm not sure.
Some kind of cancer got in her legs
or somethin'. Worry about the game.
- Come on.
- That's true. Come on. Hit a home run.
Come on, Davy!
Strike this scumbag out!
He can't touch you, Davy!
He can't touch you!
Hey, while you don't got any legs,
you got a lot of tongue!
This is it. Home run.
- Oh, easy, Mike.
- Yeah, Davy!
What the fuck you looking at,
little dick?
- She's nothing but charm.
- Come on. All right, man.
- Let's play!
- Come on, Davy!
- You take him.
- You can take him, Mikey.
- Yeah! I told you he wasn't shit, baby!
Hey, swallow your tongue,
you little gimp bitch!
You could've helped her
across the street or you could've
bought her an ice cream.
- Didn't have to throw the game.
- Yeah, now we're the Salvation Army.
You ever wonder why
there ain't a Salvation Navy?
Game over, losers.
Cough up the cash. A buck each.
- He's no better than you.
- He was today.
No, you let him be...
all because Irish here has a thing
for little girls with no legs.
Stay away from us, Fat Man.
All right?
You boys are soft like bread.
It's going to catch up to you, and
when it does, it's going to hurt bad.
What happens is our business,
not yours. Okay?
You gotta stay tough to be tough.
Guy smells it when you're weak,
eat you like a salad.
You see that street?
That street is the dish of life.
And you boys are appetizers.
Somebody gonna come along, eat you up
and forget about you by dessert.
Take it easy, Fat Man.
It was just a stickball game.
Yes, but going soft
is a habit, you know?
You have to keep yourself mean
and guide your life around it.
- All right, all right, calm down.
- It's the only way for boys.
It's like hanging out
with fuckin' Confucius over here.
- Yeah.
- Be funny, limp dick.
Look, this just free advice from me to
you. You take it or you throw it away.
- It don't matter.
- Thanks a lot, Fat Man.
In truth, we were all surprised
by Michael's actions...
but in his mind losing that game...
and handing a feeling of victory
to a girl in a wheelchair...
was more than the right thing to do.
Come on. Let's go swimming.
The temperature
topped out at 98 degrees...
on the day our lives
were forever altered.
I'm frying like an egg up here.
I say we get some butter rolls...
a couple of sodas, and head down
to the docks to cool off.
- It's hot.
- Can't you feel the breeze up here?
- What breeze?
- We're surrounded by a wall, genius.
- The devil couldn't even stand this.
Will you guys shut up, please?
I'm trying to get my burn.
- It's 98 degrees, John.
- There's some breeze up here.
- It's a hot breeze.
We haven't hit the hot dog vendor
in a couple of weeks.
I don't know, Mikey.
That cart guy ain't like the others.
I mean, he gets pretty pissed... like
crazy... when you try to take him off.
We can eat hot dogs,
or we can eat air. Choose.
Air's probably safer, Mike.
Yeah, a hot dog ain't worth
bleedin' over, Mikey.
- Yeah, but anyway, whose turn was it?
- Yours.
- Yeah, it's yours.
- Mine? It's not my turn.
- Yes, it is.
- I went, like, last month.
- He went two weeks...
- You never went.
- Last month.
- Are you nuts? I went right after him.
- I'm not going.
- Why?
- It's too hot.
- Why not?
- I walk down the stairs, I'll pass out.
Mustard, onions, no soda.
- I know you.
- I look like a lot of people.
The scam was simple.
I was to walk up to the hot dog vendor
and order what I wanted.
The vendor would then hand me my hot dog
and watch as I ran off without paying.
This left the vendor with two choices,
neither very appealing.
He could stand his ground and swallow
his loss, or he could give chase.
The second forces him
to abandon the cart...
where my friends could feast
in his absence.
Uh, I'm gonna need two napkins.
Hey, my money! Thief!
Well, my temperature's rising
- And my feet on the floor
- Yes!
- Twenty people knockin'
'cause they're wanting some more
- All aboard. Ketchup.
I took it from him and ran.
I scooted past Tommy Mung's Dry Cleaners
and Armand's Shoe Repair.
The vendor gave chase, a wooden-handled,
pronged fork in one hand.
All right. More. Give me two.
- Gimme some
- Gimme, gimme some lovin'
- Gimme some lovin'
- Gimme, gimme some lovin'
Gimme some lovin'every day
You know, these things
are heavier than they look.
Genius, these are gas tanks
to keep the food hot.
They're heavier than shit.
Think we can push it,
the three of us?
- Push it where, huh?
- Couple of blocks.
Be a nice surprise for the guy, when
he comes back from chasing Shakes...
not to find his cart.
Hey
Well, I feel so good
Everything is sounding hot
You better take it easy
'cause the place is on fire
Been a hard day
and I have so much to do
We made it, baby
and it happened to you
And I'm so glad we made it
The vendor tired at 47 th and 9th.
I was on the other side of the street.
He was beat, but not beaten.
He could go 10 minutes more
just on hate alone.
Come on. Give it up.
What's wrong, Mikey?
Shakes is taking too long.
He should've been back by now.
He'll be fine. He's Shakes.
You better take it easy
'cause the place is on fire
You guys were supposed to take
the hot dogs, not the wagon.
- Oh, now he tells us.
- He's coming fast, Mikey.
- He's still running?
- He's coming?
I got a plan.
Come on. Over by the subway.
The plan, as it turned out,
was as simple...
and as dumb as anything
we'd ever done.
We were to hold the cart
on the top edge of the stairwell...
leaning it downward,
and wait for the vendor.
We were to let it go
the second he grabbed the handles.
Then we'd leave the scene
as he struggled...
to ease the cart
back onto the sidewalk.
To this day,
I don't know why we did it...
but we would all pay a price.
It only took a minute,
but in that minute everything changed.
- You got it?
- Shit. Hold it up.
I can't hold it! I can't hold it!
I can't hold it!
- Hold it up! Come on!
- I can't!
- Shit!
- No!
Stop! Get out of... No!
Damn!
- My God!
- SweetJesus!
What have you boys done?
What in the name of God
have you boys done?
I think we just killed a man.
WhileJames Caldwell was slowly
recovering at St. Claire's Hospital...
we were charged
with reckless endangerment...
and remanded
into our parents' custody.
- I'm sorry, Dad!
- That ain't gonna do you much good.
Take it easy!
This is no time to get crazy!
You're going to jail, and you don't
even know what the fuck that means!
Ma!
You stay out of this.
He's just a kid.
He shouldn't have to do time. Nobody
in this family should have to do time.
I done enough time for everybody!
I hear you're short an altar boy.
You still remember what to do?
Easy on the water,
heavy on the wine...
and ring the bells whenever
I see someone start to nod off.
Get ready. We got five minutes
till showtime.
I'm gonna miss this.
I'm gonna miss all this.
I've been doing all I can,
but so far every door I touch is locked.
I could run.
We all could run.
Disappear for a while.
Nobody's gonna come looking.
Nobody's gonna care about us...
about where we go.
You run now,
you're gonna run till you die.
Hiding's not gonna make it go away.
People aren't gonna forget.
You've gotta face this.
I can't, Father.
I don't wanna face it.
I'm too scared to face it.
I'm scared too.
Nobody's more scared than I am.
But you gotta do it.
You're gonna be okay.
You're gonna make it through there.
You understand?
Come on. We got an audience.
I counted three rummies
and four widows on my way in.
Plus, Fat Ralphie's sleeping one off
in the last row.
It's the rain. Bad weather
always brings in the crowds.
This is one of my favorites.
What is?
"Whatever you do to the least
of my brethren, you do to me."
Come on.
We never saw the vendor as a man...
not the way we saw
other men of the neighborhood...
and we didn't care enough about him
to grant him any respect.
We gave little notice
to how hard he worked...
or that he had a wife
and two kids in Greece...
and hoped to bring them
to this country.
We didn't pay attention
to the long hours he worked.
We didn't see any of that.
We only saw a free lunch.
Thomas Marcano, the Court
hereby sentences you...
to be remanded for a period of no more
than 18 months, no less than one year...
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
John Reilly, the Court
hereby sentences you...
to be remanded for a period of no more
than 18 months, no less than one year...
to the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Lorenzo Carcaterra...
taking into consideration
that you arrived on the scene...
after the theft of the cart
had already occurred...
in consideration of that, the Court
hereby sentences you to serve...
no more than one year,
no less than six months...
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Michael Sullivan...
the Court hereby sentences you
to be remanded for a period...
of no more than 18 months, no less than
one year at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
And I might add, had it not been for the
intervention of Father Robert Carillo...
who spoke in glowing terms
on your behalf...
I would have sentenced you
to a much stiffer punishment.
I still have my doubts
as to your inherent goodness...
but only time will serve
to prove me wrong.
- Could you do me a favor, Father?
- What do you want? Name it.
The past couple of weeks...
my mother and father looked like
they were ready to kill each other.
- Could you watch over 'em for me?
- I will.
And no matter what you hear,
tell 'em I'm doing okay.
You mean, you want me to lie?
It's a good lie, Father.
You can do it.
Come on. Let's go.
- Be strong.
- I will.
The Wilkinson Home for Boys
held 780 youthful offenders...
housed in five separate units.
From the outside,
the facility resembled...
what those who ran it
wanted it to resemble...
some kind of nice school
or university.
Michael, Tommy, John and I were
assigned to the second floor of group C.
We each had a private 12-foot room.
I'd been in my room less than an hour
when the panic set in.
It doesn't take very long to know
how tough a person you are...
or how strong you can be.
I knew from my first day at Wilkinson
that I was neither tough nor strong.
Hello, Carcaterra.
- Toss your clothes on the floor.
- Here?
What, are you expecting a dressing room?
We don't have any.
- Now, lose the clothes.
- In front of you?
Let's go. Let's go.
What's that piece of shit
around your neck? Take it off.
It's Mary.
You know, the Mother of God.
I don't give a fuck whose mother it is.
Take it off.
Everything.
- So you want me to stand here naked?
- Now you're catching on.
I knew you Hell's Kitchen boys
weren't as dumb as everyone says.
Now what?
Get dressed.
There were four guards
assigned to each floor...
with one... in our case, Nokes...
designated group leader.
Ferguson was the only son
of a slain New York state trooper...
and was on the waiting list
for both the New York City...
and Suffolk County
police departments.
Styler was using his job at Wilkinson's
to finance his way through law school.
Addison was a graduate
of the local high school...
who wanted nothing more
than a steady job that paid well.
Hey. Come on. Quit pushing.
It was not a group
of innocent young boys at Wilkinson.
Most, if not all, the inmates
belonged there.
A number of them were riding out
their second and third convictions.
All were violent offenders. Few seemed
sorry about what they had done.
And as for rehabilitation?
Forget it.
Mikey.
Yeah, all right.
Hey, what the fuck
did you do that for?
- You got close to me.
- So?
It bothers me.
I don't wanna be near you
or your creeped-out friends.
Whoa! Yes!
Fight!
You know, your time here
hasn't taught you shit.
You're still the same
fuckin' bunch of clowns you were...
the day you walked in here.
Okay. Everybody go on back
and finish your lunches.
There's nothing more to see.
Go on, go. Sit down.
Get out of here.
Go on.
Go ahead.
- That go for me too?
- No, it don't go for you.
You go back to your room.
You're through with your lunch.
Go on.
You and me, we're gonna finish this
sometime real soon.
- Yeah, maybe at dinner.
- So...
you Hell's Kitchen boys
get any lunch?
I got to smell it.
You got to smell it.
That's good.
Hey, hey, hey!
Where you goin'?
You said to get lunch.
Oh, you boys don't need to get back
in line to get lunch, 'cause...
there's plenty to eat
right where you're standing.
You can smell it.
I'm not hungry.
Well, I don't give a fuck
if you're hungry or not.
You eat because
I'm telling you to eat.
I'm still not hungry.
I'll tell you when you're
hungry or not. Now eat.
Excuse me.
What the fuck are you looking at?
Get the fuck down on your knees now
and finish your goddamn lunch!
Come on. Now, eat! Don't think
you got all fucking day here! Eat!
You got some mashed potatoes.
Come on. Suck up some of thatJell-O.
Come on, now,
you fuckin' assholes. Eat.
Don't be thinking you got all day.
Hurry up. Come on. Now, let's go.
Let's go. Hey!
None of you clowns are leaving here...
until these assholes finish
their goddamn lunch.
You got that?
Hey, you. Here's a piece of bread.
There you go.
You can't have a good lunch
without a nice piece of bread. Eat!
Let's go! Come on, now.
That's good.
That's good. Yeah, show the boys
how you follow my rules.
Rules! You understand?
Hey, look, boys.
See how he follows my rules?
Shift's over, Nokes.
No, l-l... I'm not ready to go yet.
I still got a few more things I gotta
clean up here before I can leave.
This is my tour now.
I'll clean what needs cleaning.
Stay out of this one.
It's got nothing to do with you.
This one I'm staying in.
Don't fuck with me, boy.
No, Nokes...
you fuck with me.
I'm asking you.
You're eatin' into my shift.
I'll get out of your way for now.
I'll take what I can get.
You boys get off your knees.
It's a tragedy.
I'll tell you...
I don't understand you boys.
I don't think you know
what it means to have rules.
You gotta have rules
and you gotta have discipline.
Now, I don't know what it was like
in your homes and your home lives...
but in my house, with my father,
there were rules...
and if you... you didn't follow
the rules, there was hell to pay.
You had rules,
and you had discipline.
Sometimes it wasn't nice,
but, boy, we learned.
We sure did learn.
Yeah, right around there to the right.
There you go. Come on, now.
I mean, it's a simple thing, really.
You got rules,
and you got discipline.
That's the beginning of the story,
and that's the end of the story.
- Do we understand each other?
- Turn and face the wall.
Face the wall.
You too.
Now, we got interrupted earlier
in the lunch room...
but there's no one
to interrupt us here now.
What do you want?
A blow job.
Face the wall!
Down on your knees.
Face the wall. Face it!
There are no clear pictures
of the sexual abuse we endured.
I buried it as deep
as it can possibly go.
What I remember most clearly
from that chilly October night...
was that it was my 14th birthday...
and the end of my childhood.
Early in my stay, I'd written
and asked my father not to come.
I couldn't look at my father
and have him see in my face...
all that had happened to me.
Michael had done the same with
the interested members of his family.
Tommy's mother couldn't
get it together to visit.
John's mother
came up once a month.
But no one could stop
Father Bobby from visiting.
So listen, let's try to keep this
on a happy note, okay?
Nokes warned us not to say anything
to Father Bobby.
If we did,
the reprisals would be severe.
You lost a few pounds.
It's not exactly home cookin'.
Sit down.
So, I get to see
all four of you guys today.
I loved Father Bobby,
but I couldn't stand to look at him.
I was afraid he'd look right through me,
past the fear and the shame...
right through to the truth.
Shakes, is there anything
you wanna tell me?
Anything at all?
You shouldn't come here
anymore, Father.
I appreciate it and all.
I don't think it's
the right thing for you to do.
I stopped off at Attica today on my way
up here to see an old friend of mine.
You have any friends not in jail?
Not as many as I would like.
What's he in for?
Triple murder.
He killed three men
about 15 years ago.
- And he's a good friend?
- Yeah, he was my best friend.
We hung out together.
We were close,
just like you and the guys.
We were both sent up here.
That's right.
And it wasn't easy.
Just like it's not easy
for you and the guys.
This place killed him.
Made him not care anymore.
Don't let this place
do that to you, Shakes.
Don't let it make you think
you're tougher than you are.
I gotta go, Father.
I'll see you in the Kitchen, hmm?
I'm counting on you now.
Wipe the tears off your face.
Don't let them see it.
Don't let 'em see you crying.
Don't give them the satisfaction.
You'll be out of here
before you know it.
You're gonna be okay.
I didn't want to let him go.
I never felt as close to anyone
as I felt to him that moment.
A number of the inmates,
as tough as they acted during the day...
would often cry themselves
to sleep at night.
There were other cries too.
These differed from those
filled with fear and loneliness.
They were low and muffled...
the sounds of pained anguish.
Those cries can change
the course of a life.
They are cries that, once heard,
can never be erased from memory.
On this one night, those cries
belonged to my friend John...
when Ralph Ferguson paid him a visit.
I was expecting to read
There were only six for me to read.
Which means I'm missing how many?
Man, this is English class.
Math's down the hall.
Now, I want to help you.
You may not believe that...
or you may not care,
but it's the truth.
- You got a second?
- What, I do something wrong?
No. You did a great job
on your book report.
You really seemed to like the book.
The Count of Monte Cristo.
It's my favorite. I liked it more
since that I've been in here.
Why is that?
It's like he wouldn't
let anyone beat him... the count.
Took what he had to take...
the beatings, insults and whatever...
and he learned from it.
Then when the time came for him
to do something, he made his move.
- You admire that?
- No, I respect that.
You... You got a copy
of the book at home?
I got the Classics Illustrated comic.
No, it's not the same thing.
Listen, I gotta go.
I'm gonna miss morning roll call.
Wait, wait, wait. One minute, one
minute. I've got something for you.
- Thought you might like to have it.
- Are you serious?
Well, you loved the book that much,
you should have a copy of your own.
- I can't pay you.
- No, it's a gift.
- You've gotten gifts before,
haven't you?
- It's been a while.
Well, it's my way of saying thanks.
For what?
That somebody listens,
even if it's just one student.
- You're a good teacher, Mr. Carlson...
- Listen...
we can discuss the book
on Friday in class, if you, uh...
think the count
can hold their attention.
He's got a shot.
Any particular section
I should read from?
That's easy. The part
where he escapes from prison.
Here you go, little star.
Here's your locker room.
It was only a game...
just a touch football game,
nothing more...
but a game I wish
we had never played.
- Hut, hut.
- Guards against inmates.
The guards practiced
four times a week.
- Our team was picked
the Monday before the game.
- Let's go.
- We had a two-hour practice.
- Set. Hut.
- Didn't matter much.
- Get him!
We weren't supposed to win.
We were just supposed to show up.
Who's the toughest guy out here?
How do you mean "tough"?
- Who can talk and have everyone listen?
- Rizzo.
Black kid over there.
Michael saw an opening...
a chance to bring the game to our level,
even out the field.
But he needed help.
He needed Rizzo.
Black kid with an Italian name.
With Rizzo on our side,
we had a chance.
Look, white boy, I don't know what
you play on the streets. I don't care.
But in here the guards call the play,
and the play calls them to win the game.
- Why?
- Look, man.
Guards steer clear of me, all right?
They stay back and let me do my time.
If I play in a game
and I put a hurtin' on one of them...
that might change my cushion.
I'm not saying we gotta win.
I just don't wanna take a beating.
We do every day.
Why's Saturday special?
'Cause on Saturday
we can hit back.
Really.
They don't fuck with you like they do
us, but they fuck with you another way.
You're just an animal to 'em.
- I don't give a fuck.
- Yeah, you do.
And beating them on Saturday
is not gonna change a thing.
- Then why, white boy? Why?
- To make them feel what we feel...
just for a couple of hours.
Now, don't try anything funny, Sambo.
Nobody'll get hurt.
You know what I'm saying?
- I call heads.
- He calls heads.
He called heads.
It is a head.
- Let's go.
- Go.
You're gonna die, motherfucker.
You're gonna fucking die.
- You all right?
- Yeah.
None of you motherfuckers
can cover me!
We got ourselves a game.
I'm feeling good today.
This shit feels good.
Hut, hut!
- Fuck!
- Get the fuck off me!
Yeah!
Yeah, keep smiling,
you little pissant.
Yeah.
For 90 minutes,
we took the game out of the prison...
moved it miles beyond the locked gates
and the sloping hills...
of the surrounding countryside...
and brought it back down to the streets
of the neighborhoods we'd come from.
- For those 90 minutes,
we were once again free.
- Set.
Yeah!
Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo! Rizzo!
- Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
- Rizzo.
Rizzo.
Rizzo.
- Rizzo! Rizzo! Rizzo!
- Rizzo.
- Hey, Nokes.
- Good game.
- Rizzo!
For once, we had a victory.
But it didn't last.
It couldn't last.
And all I wanted to do was die.
I was not alone in the hole.
I knew my friends were
down in the depths with me...
each in his own cell
and each in his own pain...
suffering his own demons.
Rizzo was there too.
I had lost any sense of time.
I thought you'd never wake up.
I thought I'd never want to.
John and Tommy
are on the other side there.
How are they?
They're alive.
Who isn't?
Rizzo.
They killed him?
They took turns beating him...
until there was
nothing of that kid to beat.
Rizzo was dead because of us.
We made him think that
going up against the guards...
in a meaningless football game
had some value...
that it would give us
a reason to go on.
Once again, we were wrong.
- They give you your release date yet?
- Nokes had the letter from the warden.
Waved it in front of me
then tore it up.
When do you figure?
I don't know. End of spring,
early summer or something.
I wish we were comin' with ya.
Would've been nice for all of us
to walk out together, you know.
No use thinking about that. We're gonna
do a full year, and not an hour less.
When I get out, I could get Father Bobby
to make a couple of phone calls, huh?
- Shave a month or two off.
- There's nothin' to talk about.
There's a lot to talk about.
Maybe if people knew what was
going on in here they'd make a move.
I don't want anybody to know.
Not Father Bobby, King Benny,
Fat Mancho...
not my mother, nobody.
Yeah, I don't either. I mean...
I wouldn't know what to say
to anyone who did know.
I can't think of anybody
who needs to hear about it.
I mean, either
they won't believe it...
or they won't give a shit.
Yeah, I don't even think we should
talk about it once it's over, you know?
We got no choice
but to live with it...
and talking makes living it harder...
so we might as well
not even talk about it.
The truth stays with us.
I wanna be able
to sleep one night...
and not have to worry
who's coming in my room...
what's gonna happen to me.
If I can get that...
then I'll be happy.
Someday, John. Promise.
I was in my last hours as an inmate
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
I was given four copies
of my release form.
The final reminder
of my time at Wilkinson.
I never heard the key
turn in the lock...
and I never heard
the snap of the bolt.
You should be asleep.
I just wanted to say good-bye.
We all did.
I told him...
I told him right to his face.
I said, "I don't care
if you're paying the overtime or not.
I'm not working
those kind of hours."
- Yeah, but you put in for it?
- Yeah, I put in for it.
'Cause I put in for it,
and they don't give it.
I come in early three days.
They give me overtime? No.
A part of all of us
was left there that night.
A night that will never
be removed from my mind.
The night ofJune 1, 1968.
The Summer of Love.
Our last night
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
At 8:25 p.m., two men
walked through the doors.
The bartender knew their faces...
as most of the neighborhood
knew their names.
They were two of the founding members
of the West Side Boys.
They were also its deadliest.
The blond-haired man...
had been in and out of jail
since he was a teenager.
He robbed and killed at will,
or on command.
He's presently a suspect
in four unsolved homicides.
He was an alcoholic and cocaine abuser
with a fast temper and a faster trigger.
He once shot a mechanic dead
for moving ahead of him in a movie line.
The dark-haired man
was equally deadly...
and had committed his first murder
at the age of 17.
In return he was paid $50.
He drank and he did drugs...
and he had a wife he never saw
living somewhere in Queens.
Making a noble attempt
to really change things.
- The Republicans will take the House.
- We've got a lot of work to do.
- It's gonna take more than four years...
- They take it at the midterm elections.
He's got the charisma.
He's gonna do it.
He's our man. Reagan's...
Reagan's the man who's gonna do it.
He's gonna...
He's gonna move us forward.
Hey, Jerry.
What are they talkin' about?
They're talkin'
about Reagan's speech.
Order those two men some drinks
and put it on my tab.
- And Jerry.
- Yeah?
You tell them that Republicans
are not welcome in Hell's Kitchen...
and either a political conversion
or a change in conversation is in order.
Sure thing.
- Gentlemen.
- Yeah?
The gentleman there would like
to buy you a drink, on one condition.
You know the rules.
No religion. No politics. Hmm?
You get my meaning?
Order something for me.
I gotta go to the bathroom.
Can I help you
with somethin', chief?
Not right now.
Enjoy the rest of your meal.
You know what the divorce rate was
in that company?
l, uh... I ordered the brisket
on a roll with fries.
And, uh, two baskets of soda bread.
I know how you like that shit.
That okay by you?
Take a look at the guy at the table.
Take a good look.
Motherfucker.
- That's him.
- You fuckin' kiddin' me?
Bingo.
- This is amazing.
- Hello. It's been a long time.
Who the fuck are you guys?
Hey. Who the fuck
asked you to sit down?
I thought you'd be happy to see us.
l-I guess I was wrong.
You know, I thought
you'd do a lot better, you know.
You know, with all that training,
all that time you put in...
just to end up watchin'
someone else's money?
That seems like a waste.
I'm askin' y'all for the last time.
What the fuck do you want?
Why don't you take your time?
It'll come to you.
- I could see how he might forget us.
- Yeah.
You know, we were just somethin'
for you and your friends to play with.
It's a little harder
for us to forget.
You gave us
so much more to remember.
Can't quite place us,
can you, chief?
Let me help you out.
You're lookin' atJohn Reilly
and Tommy Marcano.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, that's right.
It was a long time ago.
- So how ya been?
- Yeah, we ain't kids now.
Yeah. So what do ya want?
What I've always wanted
is to watch you die.
Oh, you ordered the meat loaf.
The brisket's really good here,
only you'll never know it.
You fucked up.
Nah, you were
scared little pricks.
Both of youse.
All of youse.
Scared shitless, but l...
I tried to make you tough.
- I tried to make you hard.
- I had you all wrong, then.
All this time I thought you just liked
fucking and beating up little boys.
You two motherfuckers
are gonna burn in hell.
- You're gonna burn in hell.
- After you.
Did that hurt, Nokes?
Jerry. Sorry. Should've made
those brisket sandwiches to go.
Jesus!
- John Reilly, how do you plead?
- Not guilty, Your Honor.
Thomas Marcano?
Not guilty, Your Honor.
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano...
you are hereby held
without bail.
In all the years
since Wilkinson's...
we had never once spoken to each other
about what had happened there.
We remained caring friends...
but the relationship
had been altered.
We drifted together...
always wondering
if that moment would arrive...
that would force us
to deal with the past.
One down, Shakes.
One down.
One what?
One Sean Nokes.
Nokes?
At the time of Nokes's shooting...
Michael was working as an assistant
New York district attorney.
I got a call that he wanted to meet me
on 45th Street in Queens.
Then he hung up.
Hey. So what'd they say?
- What?
- John and Tommy. What'd they say?
It's a little cloak-and-dagger,
isn't it, Mike?
Come on, man. Nokes.
They talk about him?
- John did.
- Yeah?
What'd he say?
He said, "One down, Shakes.
One down."
Heard they hired Danny Snyder
as the lawyer. That right?
It's temporary. King Benny's
gonna move on one of his lawyers.
No, no, no, no. Don't let him do that.
It's not as perfect.
- Perfect? The guy's a fall-down drunk.
- I'm telling you, he's perfect.
Perfect for what?
You coverin' this story
for your newspaper?
- Me?
- Yeah.
- I'm a timetable clerk, Mikey.
Ask me what movie's playing
at what time.
I'm lucky they let me
in the building.
Get some coffee?
Let's take a walk.
I'm gonna prosecute
John and Tommy in an open court.
- What? Are you fuckin' nuts?
- Just hear me out.
You should stay home tomorrow.
Call in sick
and save your life, Counselor.
I'm not takin' this case to win.
I'm takin' this case to lose.
What does that mean?
It means it's payback time.
Look. John and Tommy started this.
It's begun.
It's messy,
it's not how I had it planned...
but here it is.
You and l, we can finish it.
Finish what, Mikey?
You read
The Count of Monte Cristo lately?
I don't know.
Ten years ago.
See, I read a little bit of it
every night.
I read words like "revenge."
"Sweet, lasting revenge."
Payback time.
It's our time.
What are you sayin', Mike?
I'm sayin' it's time for all of us
to get a taste.
I'm sayin' it's time
to put an end to this.
Let's walk.
So I asked for the case.
Told 'em I was from
the same neighborhood as the accused.
Knew the mentality of the area.
Blah, blah, blah.
They bought it.
And the connection
between John, Tommy and Nokes?
What connection? All juvenile records
are destroyed after seven years.
We were never at Wilkinson's.
We gotta go after the guards.
I gotta get Wilkinson's.
Bring it all down.
Adam Styler. Plainclothes cop,
works narcotics in Queens.
Known to shake down dealers
for dope and cash.
He's got a cocaine problem.
Other personal information there.
Henry Addison. Now works for the mayor,
if you can fuckin' believe that.
He's a community outreach director
in Brooklyn.
Sexual habits haven't changed.
Still likes sex with young boys.
Ralph Ferguson. Works in
a social service agency in Long Island.
How long you been
workin' on this, Mike?
Recently divorced,
got one child...
and on weekends
teaches Catholic Sunday school.
Seems clean, then. Right?
That's exactly why
I want the piece of shit.
Plan is to call Ferguson in
as a character witness.
Get him talkin'
about his best friend Sean Nokes.
Once I got him on the stand,
I'm gonna open the door to Wilkinson's.
Mike...
Sure you wanna go this way?
I mean, we buried this
a long time ago.
You still sleep
with the light on?
John and Tommy? You want them
to know anything about this?
Nah. It'll play better in court
if they don't know.
A "not guilty" verdict...
had to be a verdict that no one
would dare to question.
Danny Snyder was to remain
as Tommy and John's attorney.
Michael's plan relied heavily
on Hell's Kitchen...
to deliver information
and keep quiet.
Both were skills
the neighborhood had in abundance.
We'd set up a simple
method of communication.
If Michael was sending,
messages were left at work...
for me to call
my non-existent girlfriend, Gloria.
If I needed
to get word to Michael...
I would have
someone from the neighborhood...
pick up an early edition
of The New York Times...
write "Edmund" in the upper right
hand corner of the Metro section...
and drop it
in front of Michael's apartment.
For this plan to succeed,
we needed total secrecy...
and the only people
we completely trusted.
The plan depended
on keeping Michael alive...
which meant that word had to get
toJohn and Tommy's killing crew...
that he was not an open target.
After this night, Michael
would not be available to any of us.
The only time we would see him
would be in court.
- That's it?
- Not quite.
We got four witnesses who saw
the shooting and are willing to testify.
I gotta get that number down.
- I'll talk to King Benny.
- Good.
I can handle two, but, uh...
you gotta get us
one for our side.
- One what?
- One witness.
A witness
who'll putJohn and Tommy...
somewhere else
on the night of the murder.
A witness they can't touch.
- Don't they got a name for that?
- Judge would call it "perjury."
Nice. And what are we callin' it?
A favor.
Get up! Come on!
- Tony?
- Yeah, King?
Bring Danny Snyder to see me.
- Danny Snyder the lawyer?
- You know more than one Danny Snyder?
- No, King.
- Bring me the one you know.
I can't do this now,
and you gotta know that.
It's been a long time for me.
I mean, uh...
You need somebody younger.
You know, somebody like I used to be.
Younger is not better.
Doesn't have experience, doesn't
know its way around a courthouse.
Hey, I'm lucky
I can find the courthouse.
I had only four cases last year.
You know how many I won?
None. That's how many. None.
In two of them, l-l, uh...
I think the, uh, the jury
blamed me personally.
They must have been innocent.
It's tough to get innocent men
off a rap.
I wasn't even planning
on going to court with this one.
I was just gonna plead it down
best I could and walk away.
I wasn't... I wasn't planning
on taking this to trial, sir.
Well, your plans have been changed.
Well, I am afraid that I'll make
a mistake and say the wrong thing...
and, you know, uh, uh, uh,
make a wrong turn somewhere...
and you don't wanna take that risk.
- Life is risk.
- I'm sorry?
- Life is risk.
- Life is a risk.
- Mm-hmm.
- Uh-huh.
I haven't been in here before.
- What do you need me to do?
- Listen.
You're gonna be given
the answers and the questions.
All you have to do is read.
You can read, can't you?
Uh, is it, uh, it's...
l-Is it English?
Just don't drift, don't drink,
and don't lose.
What if I do lose?
Then you go down
for the dirt nap.
Never heard that expression before.
Dirt nap.
I'm not really
cut out for this anymore.
I mean, a guy gets hit by a bus,
you know, and sues.
l-I like that.
Some lady, uh, slips in a supermarket.
- I'm with her. A guy...
- The discussion's over.
I'm an alcoholic. This is a murder case.
This isn't for me.
- It was once.
- Yes, but...
Before you let the drink lead.
Be sober by tomorrow...
and don't look so worried, Snyder.
You got nothing to lose,
just like the rest of us.
I don't want to be a burden to you,
but I do... You know, aside...
Or along with my alcohol problem,
I have a-a-a slight drug problem.
I mean, n-nothing big, just...
Go away.
Within days
of Michael taking the case...
the West Side Boys
got a visit from King Benny.
The king requested that the verbal abuse
directed towards Michael continue.
Cries of"traitor" and "gutter rat"
were heard up and down the avenue...
but there was never
to be a death move against him.
The hit on Michael Sullivan,
if there was to be one...
could only come from King Benny.
The underground word...
the only one that mattered...
had spread through the streets
with the speed of a late-night bullet.
King Benny's sleepers
were making their play.
"Sleepers" was a street name...
for anyone who spent time
in a juvenile facility.
Hey! You gonna pay for that,
you little prick?
I need your help, Fat Man.
I need a big favor. Be outside.
- King Benny been to see you?
- Oh, my goodness.
What a fucking thing
we put together, huh?
You have a drunk lawyer
on one side...
a kid lawyer on the other...
Fucking paperboy
making like Dick Tracy.
There are four sets of eyeballs
that saw the whole thing. You know?
Meanwhile, the two on trial
killed more people than cancer.
Fucking General Custer
has a better shot at a walk.
There's no connection
with the guard and us.
The cops think
it's a drug-related homicide.
It's just we need you
to pull a few strings, Fat Man.
Dude, you get caught on this,
you're lookin' straight-ass serious.
I'm talking real jail.
The big house.
Hey, Mike.
They are not good boys anymore.
They're killers now.
Cold as stone.
I know.
I know what they were
and I know what they are.
And it's not about that.
It's not worth it,
throwing away a life...
just to get even.
You and the lawyer
have a chance to get out...
to get out the right way.
There's no choice.
Not for us.
On occasion,
I'd have dinner with Carol.
She still lived in the neighborhood and
was a social worker in the South Bronx.
Her concern for us
was undiminished by the passing years.
Whenever we went out as a group...
Carol would walk between Michael
and John, grasping their arms...
in step between
the lawyer and the killer.
Mug me or marry me, Shakes.
I'm too tired for anything else.
Would you settle
for a couple beers, Carol?
If that's your best offer.
I'll throw in a hug and a kiss.
Deal.
- You look tired.
- Thank you.
They don't give you time to sleep
in this new job of yours?
What a very special time for me
So how much do you know?
Just what the neighborhood says...
or what I read
in papers like yours.
What does the neighborhood say?
That they're gonna
putJohnny and Tommy away.
That their best friend's
gonna be the one to do it.
- You believe that?
- It's hard not to, Shakes.
Unless we all have it wrong.
He did take the fuckin' case.
- He did take the case.
- What else is there to say?
You know Michael very well.
Maybe even better than I do.
Yeah, I thought I did.
Now I don't know.
- You do know.
- I don't know!
He went in there
and he asked for the case.
Now you tell me.
What the hell kind of friend is that?
The best kind.
The kind that'd throw away everything
to help his friends.
What are you tellin' me, Shakes?
You know this neighborhood, Carol.
Everything's a shakedown or a scam.
Why should this be any different?
I'm hungry.
I'm gonna get somethin' to eat.
There's this point in Michael...
that you can't go beyond.
I mean, you can try.
I tried...
and he just shut down.
Couldn't touch him.
Couldn't even breathe on him.
I thought it was me.
After a while,
it just gets easy to let it go.
- You still love him?
- I don't think about it, Shakes.
If I did, I'd say "yes."
But you're with John now.
Yeah. As much as anybody
can be with John.
The man I know
is not the boy you remember.
None of us are.
But there's somethin' special
aboutJohn.
You just have to look
a little harder to see it.
Yeah.
Why didn't you ever ask me out?
- Me?
- Yeah.
'Cause you were Mikey's girl.
- He got to you first.
- And after Mikey?
- I think it was Tommy's turn.
- Oh, fuck you!
I don't know. It was, uh...
l-I didn't think
you'd say yes, and, uh...
Well, you were wrong, Shakes.
You were wrong.
What? Go ahead, say it.
You work at social services.
You got files...
You got access to files...
and from time to time
we're gonna need some information.
Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
Wait. What?
What? What do you want?
Y-You want information?
Y-You want me to get the files,
I get the files.
- No, I didn't want. I didn't...
- What do you want?
You still visitJohn?
Yeah. Once a week
for about an hour.
- Good.
- Good?
Yeah, good. Just don't tell him
that you've seen me.
Don't tell him anything.
The more he thinks this thing's
hopeless, the better it might work.
Shakes, what is this about?
If you want a Rolls-Royce,
you don't come here.
You go to England
or wherever the fuck they make it.
If you want champagne,
you go see the French.
If you need money,
you find a Jew.
But if you want dirt or scum
buried under a rock somewhere...
or some secret nobody
wants anybody to know about...
there's only one place to go...
right here, Hell's Kitchen.
It is the lost and found of shit.
They lose it and we find it.
Forget about it, man.
Now you only got two witnesses
who are gonna testify.
- Two others changed their minds.
- Which two?
The suits at the bar.
So that still leaves
the couple in the booth.
For now.
Everything else fallin' into place?
Except for your witness.
That pocket's still empty.
I know.
When you were sent away...
I was always sorry
I couldn't do more for you.
I didn't know
you liked pigeons so much.
I like anything that don't talk.
Michael's vision of where he wanted
this case to go was very clear.
He was aiming for guilty...
a charge of guilty against
the Wilkinson Home for Boys...
against Sean Nokes, Adam Styler,
Henry Addison and Ralph Ferguson.
I will present you evidence and offer
into account testimony to prove that.
I will place him
at the scene of the crime.
I will bring witnesses to the stand
who will confirm...
that they were there
on that deadly night.
I will present enough evidence
that you can then go into a jury room...
and come back with a clear decision
that's beyond a reasonable doubt.
I'm sure you all know what that means,
since you probably watch as much
television as I do.
John. John Reilly...
and Thomas Marcano are two
innocent pawns quickly arrested...
and just, uh, as,
uh, quickly prosecuted...
on the slightest threads of evidence.
On the bright side,
he seems to know their names.
It's nice when you come around.
Hey, bring me another spoon.
This one's dirty.
- Take it.
- No, no. She'll do it.
So how's work?
I'm still there.
You know, Pop, l, uh...
I went down to the courthouse.
John and Tommy...
I saw John and Tommy...
and, uh, suddenly I started
thinking back to when we...
Well, where's the chicken?
So?
Nothin'.
I was just thinkin' things.
But you're doin' good, right?
Oh, yeah. I'm good.
Good.
- What the hell do these things do?
- They're for praying.
Just look at all this shit.
Does your mother think you're
in the fuckin' army or somethin'?
- Ain't none of it on the approved list.
- Sure your mommy got a copy
of that list?
My mother
can't speak English that well.
Oh, don't blame us for your fuckin'
mother bein' stupid, all right?
When are you gonna let us
hear you pray?
Maybe he needs somethin'
to pray for.
Put your hands on the table
and lay 'em down flat.
Spread your legs.
Start thinkin' up some prayers.
- We don't hear no prayin'.
- You better start, else Styler
might lose his baton up your ass.
Blessed art thou among women and
blessed is the fruit of thy wombJesus.
- Pray nice and loud.
- Hail Mary, full of grace...
Now louder!
Fuckin' pray! Come on now!
- Louder!
- Can't hear you!
Louder, fucker!
Pray till your balls hurt!
Louder!
Sorry I'm late.
I lost all track of time.
I got this idea for a witness,
but I'm not quite sure yet.
But I wanted you to come along
so you could see it.
- Where are we going?
- To his place.
- Where is it?
- He's in the rectory.
No, Shakes. I can't...
How was court today?
Like the first round of a fight...
everybody just feelin' each other out.
How did the boys look?
Like they wished
they was someplace else.
It's the sheep that stray
that you most want back.
It's not too late, Father.
We still have a chance to bring in
a couple of stray sheep.
One more chance.
Is that chance legal?
Last chances never are.
King Benny behind this?
He's in on it, but, uh,
he's not callin' the shots.
- Who is?
- Michael.
I should've smelled it.
The minute he went for the case,
I should've figured somethin' was up.
It's a good plan.
Michael's got it all covered.
Just about every base you look at,
he... he's got it covered.
Not every base.
You're short something,
or else you wouldn't be here.
You don't shit a shitter, right?
That's right.
So what is it?
Where do you come up short?
Witness. We need
somebody to take the stand...
and say they were with John and Tommy
on the night of the murder.
So you figured if you had a priest,
it would be perfect.
Not just any priest.
So you're...
you're asking me...
you're asking me to lie.
You're asking me to swear to God
and then lie.
I'm asking you to save
two of your boys.
- Did they kill that guard?
- Yes.
So what they said is true.
They walked in and they killed him.
Yes.
They killed him exactly like that.
I think I need a drink.
Anyone want a drink?
Yeah.
This is some favor
you're asking me.
- We know that.
- No, I don't think you do know.
You said if there was ever
anything really important...
I could come to you, ask you.
I was thinking more
along the lines of Yankee tickets.
I don't need Yankee tickets, Father.
I need a witness.
What about the life that was taken,
Shakes? What's that worth?
To me? Nothing.
Why not? Tell me.
He was a...
He was a guard at Wilkinson's.
All right?
If Father Bobby
was gonna be involved...
he deserved to know
what he was getting into.
If he wasn't, I trusted that the
truth would go no further than his room.
I thought that Carol
needed to know as well.
Jesus Christ,
we were just boys.
We weren't that tough.
They held us down.
I told him about the torture,
the beatings and the rapes.
I told him about
the four frightened boys...
who prayed to Father Bobby's god
for help that never came.
I told him everything.
And you can't...
you can't fight anymore.
You just took it all.
John used to wail at night.
You'd hear it
all the way down the hall.
You know he wanted to be a priest.
John wanted to be a priest.
I just sort of blacked out,
but what I could remember...
is that I couldn't even breathe.
I started to choke...
Then I blacked out.
But I do remember when...
when, for fun...
they'd take us down in the basement...
and tie two or three of us
together and watch.
I got a decision to make.
I only pray it's the right one.
It will be, Father,
whichever way you go.
Good night.
Okay, so you were sitting down,
you were having dinner...
- And two men entered McHale's, correct?
- Yes.
Did you see the two men
as they approached the table
where Mr. Nokes was sitting?
l-I noticed it, yes.
- Did you hear
what was said between them?
- Um, no.
- Did you see them pull out their guns?
- No.
- Did you hear the shots?
- Yes, I heard the shots.
And what did they do? What was their
behavior after... after the shooting?
They walked out of McHale's
as if nothing had happened.
And at that time, Mrs. Salinas,
did you see their faces clearly?
Yes. I looked up
as they walked away.
- Are you positive?
- Yes. Very positive.
And are the two men you saw in McHale's,
are they in this room today?
- Yes, they are.
- Could you point them out
for the jury, please?
They're sitting right over there.
Your Honor, will the record reflect
that Mrs. Salinas has identified...
defendants John Reilly and Thomas
Marcano as the two men in question.
- Noted.
- Thank you. No further questions.
Counsel, are you ready to proceed?
Yes, Your Honor, we are.
Good morning.
I just have a few questions.
I won't take too much
of your time, Mrs. Salinas.
Uh, you stated that, uh, you
only had wine to drink with dinner.
- Is that correct?
- Yes.
- Are you sure about that?
Are you sure that's all you had...
one, uh, bottle of wine?
- Yes. A bottle of red Chianti.
- Uh-huh.
Had you anything to drink,
uh, prior to that?
- What do you mean, prior?
- At, uh, uh, lunch.
Maybe did you have anything
to drink at lunch?
- Yes, I did.
- And, uh, what did you have to drink?
I went shopping, and l, um...
I stopped at a place
on Madison Avenue for some...
See, I didn't ask you where you went.
I asked you what you had
to drink at lunch.
- A martini.
- And what else?
Um, probably some wine.
Yes, and how... Uh, how many, uh,
glasses of wine did you have to drink?
Um, one-one glass, maybe two.
- Closer to two?
- Yes. Probably two glasses. About two.
And did you, uh, uh...
It's like pulling teeth.
Uh...
I should've pinned
the questions to his shirt.
And, uh, tell me, uh,
then at dinner, you, uh...
Uh... Strike that. Uh...
Uh, uh...
What time, Mrs. Salinas,
did you have lunch?
Objection, Your Honor.
What Mrs. Salinas did
on the day of the murder...
has nothing to do with what
she saw on the night of the murder.
- How much she had
to drink does, Your Honor.
- Overruled.
Mrs. Salinas, what time,
uh, did you have lunch?
- About 1:30.
- And what did you have for lunch?
It was a while ago.
Um, probably a salad.
l-I like to eat
a little light in the day.
A martini, two glasses of wine
and a salad.
- Is that correct?
- Yes. That's right.
And then you had wine at dinner
about six hours later.
- Is that right?
- Yes, that's right.
How much wine did you have to drink
by the time my clients
allegedly walked into McHale's?
- Two glasses.
- Would you say that, uh...
four glasses of wine and a martini
within a six-hour period...
- Is a lot for you to drink?
- Yes, it is. Yes.
Uh-huh. Sure.
Uh... And, uh...
had you ever heard a gun fired
prior to the night in question?
No.
Uh, how would you
describe the sound?
It's loud,
like fireworks loud.
- Did the sound, uh, frighten you?
- Very much.
Did you close your...
uh, your eyes?
At first, um, until the shooting
stopped, then I opened them.
Did you think the men who did
the shooting were going to kill
everybody in McHale's?
Well, l-I really didn't know
what to think.
l-I just knew
that a man had been shot.
Did you think you might be shot dead
by the two cold-blooded killers?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Yet, despite that fear,
despite that, uh, risk to your life...
you looked at their faces,
uh, as they left?
- Yes, I did.
- Is that correct?
- Yes, I did.
- Did you look at their faces?
Did you really, really look,
Mrs. Salinas?
I glanced at them when they walked by,
but I did see them.
You glanced. You didn't look.
I saw them.
You glanced at them,
Mrs. Salinas.
You glanced at them through the eyes
of a very frightened woman...
who maybe had too much to drink.
Objection, Your Honor.
There is no need, Your Honor.
I have no further questions.
Thank you, Mrs. Salinas.
You may step down.
It was 6:15 on Sunday morning.
Frank Magcicco worked
out of a homicide unit in Brooklyn.
He was a first-rate detective with
an honest name and a solid reputation.
He was also King Benny's nephew.
Nick Davenport
was with internal affairs.
He was ambitious and wanted
to make captain before he hit 40.
He knew the fastest way up the track
was to reel in...
a maximum amount of dirty cops
in a minimum amount of time.
- Frank, what is this shit?
- Hey, I were you...
I'd do what the kid says.
You make this one...
you're gonna be having breakfast
once a month with the commissioner.
Man, you got a real hard-on
for this style of guy, huh?
- What's your beef with him?
- One more thing.
- I can't wait.
- It's simple.
No one knows if I give you
this information.
- And I mean nobody.
- How did you get it?
It fell into my lap,
just like it's gonna fall into yours.
Christ almighty!
- Got everything in here
but a confession.
- I thought I'd leave that up to you.
- My preference is
that you beat it out of him.
- There's even surveillance photos.
This piece of shit's pullin' in about
five grand a month rippin' off pushers.
- Has been for about three years.
- More like four.
- He ain't gonna see five.
- So you got enough for a conviction?
That ain't up to me.
That's up to a jury.
Show the jury this.
- Well, what do you got there, Ness?
- About three weeks ago...
the body of a drug dealer
named Indian Red Lopez...
was found in an alley
in Jackson Heights...
three bullets in his head,
nothing in his pockets.
- I'm with you so far.
- This is the gun that killed him...
and these are the shells.
And, uh, what's behind
door number three?
The prints on the gun
belong to Adam Styler.
- Hey, do me a favor, would you?
- What's that?
If I ever make it onto your shit list,
give me a call.
Give me a chance to apologize.
So, you need anything else,
you talk to Frank.
- He knows how to get a hold of me.
- Take care of yourself, kid.
- The water gets choppy out your way.
- I'll do what I can.
Hey, Ness. Did you ever think
of becomin' a cop?
And leave the good guys?
The body of Christ.
- The body of Christ.
- Amen.
- The body of Christ.
- Amen.
- The body of Christ.
- Amen.
- The body of Christ.
- Amen.
The body of Chri...
Amen.
The body of Christ.
Michael had done
all that could be expected...
of an assistant district attorney
seeking a conviction.
He had a forensic expert
detail the make and caliber...
of the gun that killed Nokes.
He just never had the murder weapon
to present as evidence...
and he never gave the jury
a motive for the murder.
The tension of his task,
the hours he was working...
and the uncertainty about the outcome
weighed heavily on him.
- Did you see their faces?
- Yes. I looked at them...
- And they looked at me.
- Did they say anything to you?
No. They just looked at me
and walked out of McHale's.
Are you sure the two defendants
killed Sean Nokes?
I know they killed him.
If the plan worked,
it would be everyone's success.
If it failed, the fault
would fall on Michael.
Oh, boy, man!
Father Bobby Carillo, the priest with
the best hook shot on the west side...
remained the key to a plan
that called for all involved
to get away with murder.
Did you turn around, look behind you
when you heard the shooting, Mr. Carson?
- Why-Why didn't you
turn around, Mr. Carson?
- I was concerned for my...
- Mr. Carson, did the two individuals
threaten you in any way?
- No.
Did they threaten anyone in
McHale's Restaurant as far as you know?
I didn't see it, but I know it.
If you didn't see the defendants
shoot the guys...
then how do you know it was
the defendants that shot the guy?
So what's the emergency?
You know, Shakes shouldn't
have sent you. It's too risky.
Hey, nobody sent me.
I wanted to see you.
Why?
Shakes met with Father Bobby
two weeks ago.
- He hasn't heard from him since.
- It's not an overnight decision
for him.
- What if he doesn't testify?
- Then we got a very serious problem.
Ha... Have Shakes talk
to Father Bobby again.
Have him tell him the whole story.
He'll know what that means.
- He already has.
- What?
l-I wa... I was with him
when he talked to Father Bobby.
I heard everything, Michael.
So you know.
Yeah.
If only you'd told me.
l... I think things
could have been different.
If you could've talked.
Maybe... Maybe we...
Maybe...
I don't...
- Spill 'em, you know?
- Right.
Hey, Shay, how ya doin'?
Oh, man, that diet is working.
I don't care what anybody says.
- You still have a thing for Doris Day?
- She's a good woman.
You know Lastrega?
Hard to miss a lady
with four warts and only one eye.
She needs the heads.
Salvatore.
Take this to the witch.
- Now, why does she need the heads?
- She takes the eyes.
Oh. Wonderful.
Puts them in a bowl
and mixes them with water and oil.
And then?
People get headaches,
they go to her.
She looks into their eyes and tells them
who is wishing the headaches.
She says a few words,
and the headaches go away.
Once in a while, the person who
wished the headaches goes away too.
This guy Addison,
the one who works for the mayor...
he quits his job in two weeks.
He don't want nobody to know
what kind of a guy he is.
He don't want nobody to see pictures
of him they shouldn't see.
- He knows us?
- He will.
The boys he buys for parties
are expensive.
Now, Addison makes good money,
but he don't make real money.
- How much does he owe?
- Eight grand with a heavy vig.
- I paid that off.
- You paid?
Addison's debts belong to me now.
- You hate debts.
- I hate Addison.
We're in the dirty end of the field now.
That's where I play.
And I like to play alone.
You're a nice kid. You always were.
Don't let this change it. Go.
His mother named him Edward Goldenberg
Robinson, after her favorite actor.
To continue the Hollywood connection,
Eddie Robinson took the street name...
" Little Caesar" as he made his way up
the ranks of the lucrative drug trade.
He had a 12-year-old son in
a private school in upstate New York.
He named him Rizzo,
after his youngest brother...
who died while in the custody
of the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
I want you to give me some money.
All right. I'll play along.
How long before you pay it back?
I ain't paying it back.
Somebody else is.
- This somebody I know?
- Your little brother knew him.
- Rizzo?
- Mm-hmm.
How did he know Rizzo?
Henry Addison was a guard
in an upstate reform school.
He was there the same time as Rizzo,
before and after he died.
Bip, count out $8,000.
Put it in an envelope.
You, uh, go back
a long time, old man.
Old men always do.
Ran with the Guineas,
back when the Guineas were tough.
I ran when I could.
Looked good doin' it too.
Gave the business some style,
some class.
Made it a call for respect, the way
you wore it, the way you talked it.
Always liked that about you.
I'm no help to you.
My tailor is dead.
I'll look up our friend
and collect the money he owes me.
He owes you something
more than money.
- Ain't nothin' worth more
than the green.
- This is.
What, old man? What's this guy owe
that means more than dollars?
He owes you Rizzo. He's the man
that killed your brother.
They said he died of pneumonia.
They said.
What is the relevance of this?
So Ralph Ferguson
is a Sunday school teacher?
I don't know, Counsel.
What you're asking is highly unusual.
I understand that, Your Honor. Again,
I need to put a face to the victim.
Uh, otherwise, just another name
in the obituaries.
- Mr. Snyder, any objections?
- I don't have a problem with it.
Your Honor, the prosecution would like
to call Ralph Ferguson to the stand.
- Good morning, Mr. Ferguson.
- Good morning.
I'd like to thank you for coming.
I realize for you it's been a long trip.
I'm just sorry it had to be
for something like this.
You and the victim, Sean Nokes,
were such good friends...
I think your testimony as a character
witness will be very valuable.
We were great friends. It would be
hard to find a better friend.
- Would you say
you were his best friend?
- I was his closest. That's for sure.
- How long did you know each other?
- Uh, about 17, 18 years.
- Did you see each other often?
- As often as we could.
Weekends, holidays, vacations...
things like that.
- What kind of man was Sean Nokes?
- He was a good man.
He was too good to be shot dead
by a couple of street punks.
Objection, Your Honor. Statement
is one of opinion, not fact.
- He was asked his opinion.
- Overruled.
Please proceed.
Mr. Ferguson, were you aware
of any enemies he might have had?
Sean Nokes had no enemies.
Thank you, Mr. Ferguson.
I have no further questions.
What is that, a prison?
No. It's a juvenile facility
for young boys.
And your function was what
at this juvenile facility?
Standard stuff...
keep the boys in line...
make sure they got
to their classes on time, um...
keep an eye out for trouble,
put them down for the night.
- Nothing exciting.
- As guards, were you and Mr. Nokes...
allowed to use force to, as you put it,
keep the boys in line?
Wh-What?
What do you mean, "force"?
- Were you allowed to hit them?
- No. Of course not.
Were any of the boys
hit by any of the guards...
at any time at the Wilkinson Home?
Yeah, I'm sure that something
like that may have happened.
It was a... It was a big place.
But it wasn't the common practice.
Sure. Let's narrow
the place down then.
Did you or Mr. Nokes ever hit
any of the boys under your care...
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
Would you like me to repeat
the question, Mr. Ferguson?
No.
Then answer it, please.
And remember, you're under oath.
A few of the boys who we considered
to be discipline problems...
- Uh, were hit on occasion.
- And, uh, how were they hit?
- I don't know what you mean?
- A fist?
Open hand? Kick? Baton, maybe?
It depended on what
the situation called for.
- Who determined that situation?
- The guard on the scene.
That's a lot of power to have
over a boy, isn't it?
- It came with the job, sir.
- Did torture come with the job?
Boys were tortured,
weren't they, Mr. Ferguson?
Define torture?
Well, let's define torture.
Uh, cigarette burning,
random beatings...
solitary confinement
with no food and no light.
- Would you say that took place?
- On occasion.
- Who tortured them?
- Guards.
Which guards?
I don't...
I can't remember all of'em.
Remember one.
Mr. Ferguson, remember one.
Remember one.
Mr. Fergu...
Let me ask you this, Mr. Ferguson.
Was there ever any sexual...
Counsel, this line of questioning
better lead somewhere
having to do with this case.
- It will, Your Honor.
- For your sake.
Yes, sir. Uh, Mr. Ferguson,
was there ever any sexual abuse...
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
Was there ever any sexual abuse
at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
- Yes. I heard that there was.
- I'm not asking what you heard.
I'm asking what you saw.
- Please push the door closed.
- I thought all you boys liked this.
- No!
- Yes, I saw.
Did you and Sean Nokes ever
force yourself on any of the boys?
Did you and Sean Nokes ever rape
any of the boys at Wilkinson Home?
Counselors, approach.
I just fucked your little friend Johnny.
Counselor, what the hell
is going on here?
I guess I called
the wrong character witness.
Counselor, I've given you wide latitude
in calling this character witness.
- Now it's blown up in your face.
- Please, sir, don't do this to me!
- Oh, you're gonna like it.
- I don't like it!
Mr. Ferguson,
please answer the question.
- Please, Ferguson...
- I'm gonna come see you tomorrow, okay?
- And remember something...
- Let me ask you, Mr. Ferguson...
- I like it nice and slow.
- Sean Nokes visited your home
on occasion. Is that correct?
Would your ex-wife ever leave
Sean Nokes alone with your child?
- My child?
- Yes.
In other words, would your ex-wife
ever leave Sean Nokes alone...
- With-with-with your child?
- There would be no reason for that.
There would be no reason
for him to be alone with our child.
- It wouldn't come up.
- Uh-huh. Never came up.
Didn't she ever voice any concern...
explaining why she would never
allow Sean Nokes to be in a room...
- Alone with your son?
- Objection.
- Objection.
- Sustained.
Did you ever rape one of the boys
at Wilkinson Home for Boys?
- Sean Nokes. Did he... Did he...
- I like it nice and slow.
- From your ex-wife...
- You ain't gonna touch me ever again!
Yes.
Yes?
Yes, what?
Yes, Sean Nokes
had experiences with some boys.
- Were you there?
- Yes.
Did you observe these experiences?
Yes.
Did you more than observe?
I was drinking and...
Were there any other guards around
during these experiences?
Yes.
- With you and Mr. Nokes?
- Yes.
- On more than one occasion?
- Yes.
Yeah.
Mr. Ferguson, do you still think
that Sean Nokes was a good man?
He was my friend.
A friend who raped and abused boys
he was paid to look after.
I have no further questions.
I want this to be over.
I want this to be over.
Witness is excused.
Mr. Ferguson.
Mr. Ferguson...
if I were you, I wouldn't stray
too far from home.
People will want to talk to you.
Do you understand?
Michael continued to swim both ends
of the pool at the same time.
Playing prosecution and
defense attorney, he exposed Ferguson
for what he was...
and still keptJohn and Tommy's
motive for killing Nokes hidden
from the eyes of the court.
Little Caesar, who always kept
a picture of his dead brother
in his breast pocket...
called in the Henry Addison loan.
It was a loan Addison
couldn't afford to pay back...
and it gave Little Caesar
the only reason he needed
to even his score for Rizzo.
Davenport wasted little time
on following up on Adam Styler.
He was quickly arrested
and charged with the shooting death
of the Queens drug dealer...
and eight counts
of corruption and bribery.
Twenty-three, please...
That's six for me, two for you.
See, most people
play this game in the summer.
It's easier to see the ball
without tears in your eyes.
- Yeah.
- Yeah?
- I give a fuck about most people.
You're gonna have a heart attack,
and I'm not breathin' in your mouth.
Yeah, well, I'm not going
to marry you either.
John and Tommy smell something.
They just don't know what.
A spick be living in the White House
by the time it reaches
their fucking brains.
Snyder came through big.
He's not half bad.
The way you told it, I thought
he could hardly stand up.
Oh, no. He's a drunk,
but he's not a fool.
We only win
when John and Tommy walk.
Then you'll have to get them
out of the shooting court.
You have to put them someplace else.
And only a witness does that for you.
And he's doing a Claude Rains so far.
Nobody's seen the fucker.
What if he doesn't show? What if we
have to go in the way we are?
The street is the only one that matters.
Court is for uptown people...
with suits, money,
lawyers with three names.
If you got cash,
you can buy court justice.
But on the street,
justice has no price.
She's blind where the judge sits,
but she's not blind out here.
Out here, the bitch got eyes.
We need both.
Then you need a witness.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury...
you are to disregard the testimony
of Ralph Ferguson.
His entire testimony
is stricken from this record.
That concludes the people's case,
Your Honor.
- People rest?
- People rest.
- Is the defense ready to proceed?
- Uh, I'm not sure.
Uh, Your Honor, I don't, uh...
I don't know, uh...
- You don't know?
- Well, I'm not sure that, uh...
- We're waiting, uh...
- All right.
present a witness
or be prepared to sum up.
- Everything good?
- Good.
- Good. I like to hear that.
- Bye-bye.
- You're late.
- Very interesting attending
the morning mass.
Your Honor, the defense calls
Father Robert Carillo.
Father, do you know
most of the people in your parish?
- I know all the people in my parish.
- Do you know the two defendants,
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano?
- Yes, I do.
- How long have you known them?
Since they were boys.
They were both students of mine.
- Remain standing.
- How long has it been?
- It'll be 20 years this spring.
- Raise your right hand.
- I'm a priest.
- The case of the people...
of the state of New York
againstJohn Reilly and Thomas Marcano.
Do you swear the evidence
you are about to give is the truth...
the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, so help you God?
I do.
Father, do you recall, uh,
where you were on the night
of November 1 of this past year?
- Yes, I do.
- Where was that?
I was at the basketball game at the
Garden, the Knicks versus the Celtics.
And, uh, when
did the Knick game begin?
- About 7:30.
- What time did it end?
- Between 9:30 and 10:00.
- Do you remember who won that game?
Sad to say, it was the Celtics.
Kevin McHale and Robert Parrish...
were a little too much for our boys that
night, even if it was All Saint's Day.
Well, next time, give me a call.
I'll try my guy.
I'll try that.
Father Carillo,
were you at the game alone?
- No. I went there with two friends.
- And who were those
two friends, Father?
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano.
- The two defendants?
- Yes. The same two defendants.
Father Carillo, at 8:25 p. M...
the time the police say
the victim Sean Nokes was murdered...
were you still with Mr. Reilly
and Mr. Marcano at the basketball game?
- Yes, I was.
- And at what time did you...
Mr. Reilly and Mr. Marcano
part company?
It was around 10:30,
a little later.
They dropped me off
in front of the rectory...
near where they had picked me up.
Did the two defendants
tell you where they were going?
No, they didn't. But I imagine
after a night spent with a priest...
they went looking for the first
open bar they could find.
So, then, Father,
if the two defendants...
were with you at 8:25
at the night of the murder...
they couldn't have shot and killed
Sean Nokes, as the prosecution contends.
Isn't that correct?
Not unless they shot him
from the blue seats at the Garden.
No. No.
He was not shot from there.
Then he was not shot
by those boys.
No further questions, Your Honor.
Thank you, Father.
- Your witness, Mr. Sullivan.
- Thank you, Your Honor.
Did you buy the tickets for the game,
Father, or were they given to you?
- No. I bought them.
- On the day of the game?
I went to the box office
about a week before.
Uh, did anyone know
you were going to the game,
other than the two defendants?
I don't think so.
- Was anyone with you
when you purchased the tickets?
- No.
- No one saw you buy the tickets?
- That's right.
- Did you get a receipt?
- No, I didn't.
- Pay by check, MasterCard, Visa?
- No. I paid by cash.
I usually pay for things in cash.
You care for the boys in your parish,
don't you, Father?
Very much.
And there isn't anything you
wouldn't do for them. Am I right?
Anything in my power to do,
I would make it a point.
You're like a father, a good father,
looking out for one of his sons.
- Something along those lines, yes.
- And is it true, then...
as a good father, you would want
to protect them from something
they shouldn't have done?
As much as I would want to protect them
from something someone
else said they did, yes.
- Like a murder?
- Yes, like a murder.
Let me get this straight then.
No one knew you were going to the game.
No one saw you at the game.
No one saw you buy tickets for the game.
There's no record
you even bought tickets.
You have no receipt for the tickets.
Am I correct?
- Yes, that's correct.
- Then how do we really know, Father?
How do we know
you and the two defendants...
were at the game
on the night of the murder?
I'm telling you as a witness
and as a priest we were at the game.
Yes, as a priest.
And a priest wouldn't lie. Am I right?
A priest with ticket stubs
wouldn't need to lie...
and I always keep the stubs.
Do you want to see them?
Uh, why is that, Father?
Why... Uh, why do you keep the stubs?
Because you never know when someone
might want more than your word.
Has anyone ever questioned
your word before today?
No. No one ever has.
But there's a first time for everything.
I have no further questions.
Thank you, Father.
Thank you, Father.
You may step down.
I've never recovered from seeing
Father Bobby take the stand...
and lie for us to even
the score forJohn and Tommy.
He didn't just testify for them.
He testified against Wilkinson...
and the evil that had lived there
for too long.
Still, I was sorry he had to do it.
With respect to the charge
of murder in the second degree...
do you find the defendant,
John Reilly, guilt or not guilty?
- Not guilty.
- With respect to the charge
of murder in the second degree...
do you find the defendant,
Thomas Marcano...
- Guilty or not guilty?
- Not guilty.
Thank you very much.
This jury is discharged.
Hi. How are you?
Could I get a hot dog?
- Yeah.
- Uh, mustard, relish.
A lot of relish.
Give him two napkins.
You did good in there, Counselor.
So, what happens to you now?
What happens? I walk away.
I'll wait a few weeks,
I'll hand in my notice...
and after the way
I handled this case...
they won't be in a rush
to keep me from the door.
So you switch to the other side
and work as a defense lawyer.
The money's better.
There's always gonna be more bad guys
than good, Mikey.
And can you imagine the work
you'd get from John and Tommy's crew?
- Yeah.
- That's a house and a pool.
Not for me.
I've seen all the law
I want to see.
- It's time for something else.
- Like what?
Let you know when I know.
You know, you're too old
to play for the Yankees...
and you're too young
to take up golf.
Why you shooting holes
through all my plans? You're...
You're gonna make me panic.
You'll work it out.
You always have.
It's time for quiet, Shakes.
I just want to shut my eyes and
not have to see the places I've been.
I'm weary.
I don't know.
Maybe I'll get lucky,
forget I was even there.
Well, don't disappear on me, Counselor.
I may need a good lawyer one day.
- Hey, you can't afford a good lawyer.
- Okay.
I may need a good friend though.
I'll find you when you do.
Count on it.
Always have.
A full month had passed
since the acquittal...
and no one had made contact.
In those few weeks,
our lives had reverted back...
to what they'd been
prior to the murder of Sean Nokes.
Carol had returned to her stack
of social service files...
helping troubled teens
and single mothers.
John and Tommy
went back to the streets...
running the West Side Boys.
I was promoted from clerk
to reporter trainee...
covering the entertainment beat.
Michael, as he had promised,
resigned from his job...
after working the losing end
of a "can't miss" case.
Excuse me.
I don't know
how to fuckin' thank you.
- All right.
- I can't believe what you did.
- I can't believe you got away with it.
- It wasn't me, man. That was Mikey.
- It was all Mikey's plan.
- You know, when I first heard
he was taking the case...
- I was gonna have him burned.
- And?
And I figured he's a friend,
and if you gotta be sent away
on a murder rap, who better to do it?
Well, the way he's handling
his end of the case, I thought
he sucked as a lawyer.
- I started feeling sorry
for the bastard.
- Hey.
Never feel sorry for a lawyer.
Get over here, Counselor!
You are the real count...
alive and well
and living in New York City.
- Fuckin' maniac.
- All right. All right.
- You maniac. Jesus!
- What is this, a gay bar?
- Uh-oh.
- It was until you came in.
Why don't you give me a kiss
to go with that hello?
- Get out of the way.
- You're next.
- Break it up there!
- Let's have a drink.
- The Four Gladiators.
- Oh, he's right. I forget, you know?
The Four Gladiators. Worst quartet
to ever hold a Hell's Kitchen corner,
swear to God.
- Yeah, but what was that name
that Shakes wanted to call it?
- No, no, no, no.
Genius wanted to call it
the Count and his Cristos.
- Nice name!
- It's so sweet, isn't it?
- That would've sent albums
flying out of the stores.
- We weren't that...
We weren't that bad. I mean,
some people wanted to hear us sing.
- We were that bad.
- Yeah, the kids at the deaf
school don't count.
- One song for Carol.
- Oh, no.
- I retired a long time ago.
- Come on, you mutts.
- Wait, wait, wait.
Don't you guys have to go
and shoot somebody?
- Ohh!
- No!
No. We always got time
for a song.
Just kidding.
You know what I'm saying?
- Wine, anybody?
- You pick it, but nothin' too slow.
All right. Start us off.
- How many songs do you know?
- One.
Walk like a man
Walk like a man, fast as you can
Walk like a man, my son
I'll tell the world
to forget about the girl
On March 16, 1984,
John Reilly's wilted body...
was found face up
in a tenement building...
right next to the bottle
of boiler gin that killed him.
At the time of his death, he was
a suspect in five unsolved homicides.
He was two weeks past
his 29th birthday.
Thomas Marcano died
on July 26, 1985.
He was shot at close range
five times.
The body lay undiscovered
for more than a week.
There was a crucifix and a picture
of St. Jude in his picket.
He was 29 years old.
Michael Sullivan lives in a small
town in the English countryside...
where he works part-time
as a carpenter.
He no longer practices law,
and he has never married.
He lives quietly and alone.
Carol still works
for a social service agency...
and lives in Hell's Kitchen.
She has never married...
but is a single mother
supporting a growing 12-year-old son.
The boy,
John Thomas Michael Martinez...
Ioves to read and is called
"Shakes" by his mother.
It was our special night,
and we held it for as long as we could.
It was our happy ending...
and the last time we would ever
be together again.
The future lay sparkling ahead...
and we thought we would
know each other forever.