Black Mass Page #10

You just happened to make

the wrong f***ing one.

Look at me.

I said f***ing look at me.

I've known you a long time.

And for you to f*** me like this...

It f***ing hurts.

So I'm gonna f***ing bury you right here,

where all the other weak people

have been buried.

Jimmy, I'm sorry!

But you'll be dead before

Stevie pulls your teeth,

which is more than you f***ing

deserve, I'll tell you that.

Jimmy, I'm sorry, Jimmy, I'm sorry,

Oh, God, Jimmy, I'm...

Take out his f***ing teeth.

Bury him next to the whore.

Special Agent John Morris, FBI.

Gerard O'Neill, Boston Globe.

Dick Lehr, same.

Thank you for meeting with us.

I feel like, uh...

Like I should be in a confessional.

It's the right thing to do, John.

Anything I tell you has to be

off the record.

You understand?

Of course.

We'll develop our own sources,

corroborate everything.

Where do I start?

What do you know?

- All of it.

- We know.

And you're running it?

We wouldn't be here if we weren't.

What?

What is it, Jim?

What the f***, Jim?

What the f***... This is bullshit.

Right? This isn't true.

Right?

Kevin, you're gonna hear

and you're gonna f***in' read

a lotta bullshit about me.

A lotta nasty things.

And most of it, if not all of it,

is f***ing untrue.

It's pure fiction.

You know me.

And you know these people.

You know these f***ing people.

They're liars.

They ain't got no f***ing code of honor.

How many envelopes of f***ing cash

did you deliver to these Feds?

How many cases of wine

for that prick Morris?

Or f***ing vacations,

or, uh, f***ing money,

money, money. F*** it.

Does that sound like

what an informant does?

Guy ran a sports and numbers

racket out of Heller's Cafe.

Parlayed it into loan sharking,

and that into money laundering.

Says he can give us some big fish.

Evidence?

Pictures and sound.

FBI know anything about this?

No, but I can call them if you want.

Absolutely not.

Can you get me

into Witness Protection?

Depends what you have.

I have Whitey Bulger.

So, Whitey Bulger took a piece

of everything you made?

What, are you f***ing kidding me?

Everything. Wasn't small either.

Yeah, Whitey introduced drugs to Southie.

White stuff, brown stuff...

Cocaine, heroin, marijuana.

Like I said,

I was a half a block away,

but it was unmistakable what was going on.

I don't know who it was.

Pulled him out of a car

and shot him on the f***ing...

Right on the ground.

It's everything.

Extortion.

Racketeering.

Murder.

They got you on all of it.

And I guess they got me too.

You used me, Jimmy.

It was an alliance,

John. Nothing more.

I'll call you in a week.

Just let me know what you know.

There's nothing more

I'm gonna know.

Even.

Okay.

- Gentlemen.

- John Connolly?

Yeah, I'm John Connolly.

We have a warrant

for your arrest.

Mr. Connolly, step out

of the building, please.

Mmm.

Do me a favor, boys,

and let me leave with some dignity.

Mr. Connolly, step out

of the building, please.

Mr. Connolly, this way.

Yeah.

You know, this is, uh...

Uh...

Show me your hands!

Show me your hands! Up in the air!

Turn around slow.

The other way. The other way!

Put your hands on your head.

Put your hands on your head!

"OLSEN". Mr. Flemmi, now that you

look back at your time with James Bulger,

what is your opinion of him?

Strictly criminal.

Jimmy?

Hey, Billy Boy.

Been reading the papers?

Not even a little.

Smart man.

I wouldn't if I was you.

Well, listen.

You're not gonna see me for a while.

You know? So, uh...

Just look after yourself, you know.

You sure you want to do it this way?

Is there any other way?

Take care, kid.

"REPORTER". Let's begin this morning...

FBI, you're under arrest!

With the breaking news,

the overnight arrest

of mob boss, James "Whitey" Bulger...

Last night,

in Santa Monica, California,

the FBI finally...

He's talking

to federal authorities

and Bulger will be returned

to Boston to face trial.

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