Rampart Page #7

I'm gonna get you a soda, okay?

- I'll get you a soda.

- No.

Will you come back? Monkey,

come back to the room.

What's on your mind, Hoover?

This is Officer David D. Brown

of the Los Angeles

Police Department.

This statement is made

of my own free will.

During my twenty-four

year police career

I employed brutal and coercive

methods at whim.

And... created racial animus

with reckless disregard for the law

that I was sworn to uphold

as a police officer.

On April 15th, 1987,

I murdered a business acquaintance

of mine, Karl Joseph Huneck

and rationalized the act

as a morally sound expression

of street justice

against a man who I knew to

be a serial date-rapist.

I was legally sane at the

time I committed the act.

Over the years, I've killed many

men. Bad guys, all of them.

And if there are one

or two exceptions

I can only assume they ended up

on the wrong end of my gun

to satisfy some karmic breech.

This statement is proffered

lucidly.

I am not in a state of duress.

Okay.

I'll give you this tape

if you cut me a deal.

I don't want your tape.

What?

That's not the confession I want.

You want that f***ing Crystal Market

case. You're a f***ing idiot.

Next time I see you, I'm

putting cuffs on you.

Are you out of your mind?

Timkins! Take what you've got,

which is a good case.

It's the wrong confession.

Take the f***ing tape.

You f***ing idiot.

Take this f***ing tape!

You're a f***ing idiot, Timkins!

F***ing idiot.

But this one has something

in her ear.

Oh!

Watch.

- Where did it go?

- You get to keep it.

Where will it say? Oh, 1882.

1882? That's pretty valuable.

Really? That's so sweet of

you. Oh, my goodness.

Where you going?

Smoke.

- What?

- Smoke.

What did she say?

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