New Orleans Page #2

Synopsis: A gambling hall owner relocates from New Orleans to Chicago and entertains his patrons with hot jazz by Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Woody Herman, and others.
Genre: Music, Romance
Director(s): Arthur Lubin
Production: United Artists
 
IMDB:
6.8
APPROVED
Year:
1947
90 min
92 Views


I don't want you to tell me...

Look at me.

I don't want you to tell me, that you

don't know nothing.

But I don't know nothing.

Listen...

I got 2 dead baby Yambos.

You understand what that means?

That means I can do whatever I want in

this room.

That means Guantanamo Bay.

You believe this motherf***er?

I busted my ass for Yambos, and this

one won't tell me sh*t.

Detective. Can I see you outside for a

second?

Uh, Yeah... Sure.

Two minutes. Think about it.

Oh not a great time to take a break.

- What are you doing?

- What? He's about to go.

Bullshit, Stevie. He's scared out of

his mind, because you and your partner

may have spectacle out of picking him

Now everyone in Central City knows he's

in here.

- Are you trying to...

- No! Just shush.

Do you think he's gonna go out on a limb

you keep insulting him like that?

You are trying to tell me how to do my

interrogation?

Yes. As the matter of fact I'm gonna

tell you when I think you're doing is

something wrong.

Go and f*** yourself.

I'm gonna treat you respectfully.

You're treat me respectfully.

I'm looking at some bullshit pop bust and

because you're on parole, you wanted back

in Angola? Why would you do that?

Man, I ain't the one doing it.

Who just have Kingard pissed off?

I never said a two words to him.

I don't know.

But you knew he was selling dope tho.

Come on.

Should I just call your parole officer?

He'll violate you... Stop wasting my time.

- I knew he was sellin'

- Okay.

Tell me, where he was selling.

Whose neighborhood was it?

Man, look. I got me a good job at the

cleaning service.

I check in when I'm supposed to. I

smoke a little weed, but that's it.

Tell me, whose neighborhood it was,

Dob.

Man...

You know Fate?

Big Fate? Yeah.

Ain't nothin' moved that part of town.

He got a piece of it.

Where can I find him?

I've said all I must say.

Now if you want me to lead you to him,

you just roll like me the f*** back up.

Check Stevie's arrest report on Dob. Have it

mentioned marijuana, make sure it gets lost.

What do I tell Stevie?

You can tell him to go f*** himself.

I'm gonna go upstairs

and catch an hour in the crib.

What do you want, Mundt?

Internal Affair is just checking the

property room vouchers.

- So?

- So that means they're gonna find

out the sh*t missing.

Not if you don't tell them they won't.

I can't do it anymore, Terence.

F***!

Uhm... I'm really sorry. I just can't.

Mundt.

Whatever drugs might have been taken out

of the property or...

...have a voucher, you understand?

They won't turn up as missing, because

there's no record of them being there in

the first place. Okay?

They're installing cameras.

So then you don't do anything...

...where the cameras can see you.

I can't.

So when it was me redoing paperwork to

cover the cash you misplaced, that was

alright? That was entirely f***ing...

I'm sorry.

Hei, Mundt!

You bad boy.

Stand against the wall

Come on!

- Stand against the wall!

- Okay.

You keep busy making out with your

girlfriend you don't know any done

something illegal?

- What are we hiding tonight?

- Nothing.

Does drug in that club?

No!

The two of you match the description.

Now empty your pocket and the handbag.

Why?

What, hard at hearing?

I said you match the description.

Somebody is in passing drugs.

I wasn't in passing drugs

What is that even mean?

Empty your pockets, stomp out the

handbag. I'm not gonna tell you again.

This is bullshit!

- Just do what he says, okay?

- Yeah.

- What do you got in there?

- Nothing.

I'm not gonna get stuck, am I?

No.

I get stuck, I'm gonna be very f***ing angry.

You're not gonna get stuck.

Where's your badge if you're a cop?

This is what I'm looking for.

Here's where it says I'm a cop.

Sir, It's obviously just for personal use.

I'm not a dealer.

That's for the D.A. to decide.

You gonna dump that bag or I'm gonna do it?

Sir. Is there any way my parents dont

have to find out about this?

I mean can we just you know hand on

handle this?

I go to jaiI on weekend or something

like that If i had to do that? My father

have a heart condition.

This would kill him.

Please.

Just let me keep this from him. Please.

Think he might want to know?

Why?

I'd wanna know if were on my child.

Here.

This fur is a nothing, but...

This is my grandmother's...

It's worth $ 60,000.

You can give it to your girlfriend.

You don't have any girlfriend, You

can't give it to your mother.

It's detective bribery.

Excuse me.

This is worth $ 60,000.

Doesn't that get us pass attempted?

Where's the rock at?

Come on... come on.

Who's got the kible?

- You wanna hit?

- Yes

Jesus!

Again!

Yeah?

Are you f***ing kidding me?

- This's what it's gonna take?

- Uh... uh

- What you making... Your father find out?

- No.

- What about your mother?

- I don't give a sh*t about her.

- Is she bitchy?

- No.

- Molest you?

- No.

Didn't buy you new clothes back to

school, huh?

- Didn't see you in highschool play, huh?

- No.

No panties?

I've been thinking about you

and your little girl

where it all happens, yeah.

Don't f***ing move.

You stand and you watch.

You watch her.

You watch your f***in girlfriend.

F***.

I need to come back.

What happened?

The storage what I thought was coke,

turn out to be heroin.

I gotta be at work in an hour.

Oh, baby okay. I'm not alone.

Would you just get the coke?

I'll get out of here.

You didn't break it up for your client?

He brings his own.

Who are you?

I am the last person in the world you

want me to be.

He is just an old friend.

C'mon, Missy. We had your eyes

surveilanced for weeks.

You got any illegal substances on you?

Like what?

A**hole. Cooperate with me, I let you

walk out of here.

You play games, you're coming with her.

I got some coke.

Get it.

Get out.

It was fun.

Come

- Are you a policeman?

- Yes.

- Do you know who did this?

- I don't know yet.

Look here. This dead is my Babacar.

He's dead.

My angel, she is dead.

- My whole family.

- How are you related?

Yasin. She was my sister.

- When's the last time you saw her?

- I see her that morning.

I come by incase she needed anything.

But that morning, she said she needed

something from the grocery,

And she called there, and have it

delivered by a boy to her home.

Help me, please.

Please help my family.

Please. Sir. Help me.

- Are you the manager?

- No, Sir.

The manager is over there.

Homicide. You got people making

deliveries here?

We got different guys making deliveries.

Different days, different guys.

Just one in Tuesday?

Different terms of day, different guys.

Late afternoon.

We don't keep track of who takes what to

where.

Is there a delivery boy who hasn't show

up for a little while?

Excuse us, hello!

Police department. We're looking for

Binnie Rogers.

- I'm Binnie Rogers.

- We need to talk to you for a second, Ms. Rogers.

Do you mind stepping in the hall?

No, well I can't step into the hall.

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Elliot Paul

Elliot Harold Paul (February 10, 1891 – April 7, 1958), was an American journalist and author. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "New Orleans" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/new_orleans_3456>.

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