MR 73
- Year:
- 2008
- 80 Views
This film is based on a true story
You drank, this morning?
You won't answer?
You can leave if you want.
You're not to blame, Mr Schneider.
You were just in the wrong place.
No, I never should've been there.
Meaning?
I don't want to discuss it.
What will you discuss?
You believe in God, doctor?
Yes, or I wouldn't be here.
God's a son of a b*tch.
Some day, I'll kill him.
Where we going?
Put it out! No smoking!
My home's the other way.
Turn around!
Stay on your seat.
In the middle, it's dangerous.
You hear me?
Take me home!
Junket's over, fella!
You got 30 seconds
to come out unarmed,
without a hostage!
Only 15 seconds!
OK, open it.
I'm a cop,
you a**holes!
Don't resist!
On your knees! Don't move!
On your knees, I said!
Louis, wake up!
Louis, sh*t! Wake up!
Here.
Internal Affairs
are waiting for you.
Why am I in here?
You hi-jacked a bus last night.
With 3.40 grams of alcohol
in your blood.
I've pissed on myself...
Capt. Ringwald, Internal Affairs.
Armed hi-jacking of
a Police vehicle, hostage taking...
Any other cop
would already be jailed.
But you're not any other cop.
So we're keeping this confidential.
We'll indemnify
the passengers and driver.
You won't be charged.
No plaintiffs, no charges:
No sanctions.
No rap for us,
and you save your ass.
But you won't escape the decision
taken by the brass in this case:
You're out of the CID
and transferred to night duty,
on the complaints desk.
You'll surrender your weapon,
and won't retrieve it
until further notice.
Anyway, you won't be needing it.
We were lenient
in view of your fine record,
and the tragedy you endured.
But nothing further
will be tolerated.
Any relapse and you're out.
Savvy?
Go home.
Take a shower:
You stink of piss and booze.
That guy's a time-bomb.
He'll explode in our face.
We're all time-bombs, here.
Even you?
Look in my file, you'll see.
I already did.
I saw no answer,
just a question.
Why did a woman like you wind up
in this sh*t-hole?
What's a woman like me?
A woman with your exemplary record
shouldn't be in charge
of these degenerates.
They enable me to keep
a grip on this city, sir.
And why I wound up here,
is my business.
Go in.
Your name is
Charles, Robert, Emile, Subra.
Born February 17, 1938
in Chteauroux
to Robert Subra and Jeanne Lantier.
You were sentenced
to 2 years for theft,
March 8, 1964,
to 4 years for attempted homicide,
June 13, 1967,
and to 7 years, for statutory rape,
November 6, 1971.
Freed in September 1976,
you settled in Gardanne,
and disappeared from view
until Dec 5, 1982,
when you were arrested
for the murder
of Mr and Mrs Maxence.
In spite of evidence from witnesses,
who identified you as the murderer,
Yet you were sentenced
to life imprisonment
by the Court of Bouches-du-Rhne
on January 13, 1983
for kidnapping, torture,
barbaric acts,
rape, followed by
premeditated murder.
Imprisoned in Nmes,
and later in Marseilles,
you agreed to undergo
psychiatric treatment
and dedicated yourself
to God and to religion.
Later you were moved
to the Mallemort facility
where you appear today
before the Appeals Board
regarding your request
for release on probation.
First question, Mr Subra:
Do you deserve to be released?
I'll soon be 69, sir.
I've spent
over half my life in jail.
a changed man with the help of God.
Today, nearing the end of my life,
all I want is...
for the few years
I have left to live,
to help my neighbor,
and atone for my mistakes,
and appease my conscience.
It means he may get out.
It'll be decided in a month.
Note that...
if the Board rules in his favor,
his probation isn't irrevocable.
He'll be bound by conditions
that he must respect.
But he was sentenced to life!
I know, Justine.
But in view of his age,
his health problems
and his good behavior in jail,
he's eligible for
a reduction of his sentence.
That's the law.
He butchered my father,
tortured, raped
and murdered my mother.
That's good behavior?
I hope he kills again,
it'll serve you right!
It's George.
We got a "stiff",
in a villa in Cassis.
Seems our guy is at it again.
I'll be there in fifteen.
Hi!
The bunghole brigade!
- Hi, Jumbo.
- Hi.
Looked good for her age.
We know her name?
Vera Rosenberg,
widow,
a daughter, 30, who lives in the US.
Made a killing in real estate,
has offices on the Riviera,
and Paris,
owns luxury hotels abroad:
Stinking rich.
- Can we move her?
- We can.
What was the doc's report?
Same as the others:
Raped,
sodomized, beaten to death,
and strangled.
I reached her daughter:
She's flying in from Chicago.
And the cat?
What cat?
She wants it or not?
I'd say she doesn't!
It'll be put to sleep.
Going to the autopsy tomorrow?
I'm going nowhere, I'm off the case.
Kovalski and his boys have it now.
I f***ed up, George.
You're still in the race.
Neighbors hear anything?
Nothing.
through the sewer system.
In any case, they know him.
No break-in.
They always seem to let him in.
Maybe he says he's a lineman,
or a cop.
No one lets anyone in around here,
unless they know them.
Checked her address books?
Diaries, phone books,
rifled 'em all:
No matching numbers.
We're going over
a year's phone bills,
home phone and cell.
Try all the swinger's clubs,
there may be a sex angle.
I'll keep at it "on my end".
What's "your end"?
I'm on night desk now.
As of tomorrow.
Hi, puss.
You're alone, too.
So...
Come along.
Easy now.
Where's it from?
Don't worry, no one'll ask for them.
Five hundred?
That's it, or you can shove 'em!
You f***ers!
What about the rest?
It's tinsel for oldies,
I'm not interested.
Your hookers will be.
The bracelet'll get you free bj's
for 10 years!
You CID boys have bigger balls
than brains!
Not as big as your livers,
right Jumbo?
I'll stop by tomorrow for my dough.
Roques!
Thanks.
See you.
You OK?
- Hi, Mr Schneider.
- Hi.
Hi, sir.
You got put on night desk?
Pity, I've got a "goodie": His DNA.
In skin and blood
from the dame's mouth.
He f***ed her so hard,
caught his dick on her teeth.
Left some meat there.
So who do I give it to?
Kovalski.
He's got the case now.
That clown aced you out?
I can see why you're pissed off!
Buy you a drink?
Louis!
He's just a pastime.
I didn't ask.
It's your first night?
Yeah, my first night.
I'm precinct boss this week,
if you need anything...
I need no one. I'm fine.
I wanted none of this.
You know that.
No one wanted it.
Yet it happened.
Want some compote?
Nothing more, thanks.
Richard OK?
He's fine...
- Here.
- Thanks.
Is your work OK?
It's OK.
Your sister called today.
She can't face coming for the Mass.
Reminds her of too much pain.
Did she say it, or her dumb husband?
It's her right. Don't be mad at her.
At the time,
you forbade us to cry, remember?
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