Ricochet Page #4

Come on.

I'll be there

when you need me.

I promise.

(man)

Come on.

[ominous music]

[engine sputtering]

[man coughs and inhales]

[indistinct rap music

playing]

[children giggling]

[indistinct chatter]

(man)

Come on up.

[people chattering softly]

[whispers]

Look at this.

What's up, Odessa?

What the f***

you doing here?

[chuckles]

Yeah, you've come

a long way, my brother:

from hot-wiring Corvettes

to hot-wiring cocaine.

I'm impressed.

Word is out downtown, too,

that you're the man.

[chuckles]

Word is out uptown

that you're

the new uptown boy.

Took a lot of balls

for you to come here, PK.

Let's hope you leave here

with 'em.

I know you know everything

that's going on in the streets,

so you heard about

the children's center, right?

(man)

That thing by the towers?

What's that got to do

with us?

That's the point.

It ain't got nothing

to do with you

or anybody like you.

You don't sell

no dope there.

You don't recruit.

You don't bang,

none of that.

Why in the f***

should I do that?

For your mother.

What about my mother,

motherf***er?

Your mother, n*gger,

the one that died

of a broken heart praying

with my father

every night in church

over your black ass,

the one that buried

your little brother

without his head,

'cause they couldn't find it.

Don't play me, Odessa;

I know you.

What the f*** is wrong

with y'all, huh?

Selling dope

to each other.

That's all

y'all are doing,

'cause you damn sure

ain't selling no drugs

over in Beverly Hills.

Killing each other

for what, huh?

Makes you feel

like a man?

Makes your dick hard,

huh?

Punk motherfuckers.

Look, Odessa,

I know you ain't gonna change,

but don't cheat these kids

out of their future, man.

Now, the tower center

is holy ground.

You got that?

No,

I don't got that.

[guns cocking]

And I don't play

that sh*t either.

So it's like that, huh?

Yeah,

it's like that.

All right, then,

we're gonna all die.

Let's all die tonight.

I ain't afraid.

clink!

I ain't scared to die

for what I believe in.

How about you,

Odessa?

How about you, RC?

Anybody?

Who wants to die?

You?

I'll tell you what.

Everybody

that's ready to die,

raise your hand.

Yeah, that's

what I thought.

Do the right thing,

my brother,

not for me,

not for yourself;

but think about the kids.

(man)

Come on, man.

[indistinct chatter]

Hey, man,

you gotta stay with it.

(Nick)

He went for it.

Yeah, of course

he went for it.

I just hope you realize

what a chance you're taking

talking to a loser

like this, Nick.

Taking a chance

is growing up in this hellhole.

Yeah, well,

I think you just made

a deal with the devil.

I don't know.

Maybe I convinced him

to put in air-conditioning, huh?

[chuckling]

(man)

The parole board's

ready, Blake.

I hope you remembered

to floss.

I did with your wife's

pubic hair.

[soft suspenseful music]

[door clicks and shuts]

[saw noise]

[man speaking over TV]

Oh, you're Blake?

Goddamn judge

stuck me with you.

I hate this

pro bono crap.

All right, look,

just keep your mouth shut

and pray for a miracle.

Amen.

(man)

And just as these

incidences of violence

in my client's younger years

can be attributed

to his disadvantaged

upbringing,

his alleged aggression

behind bars

has, in fact,

been acts of self-defense

against the--

the Aryan Brotherhood,

a right-wing group associated

with the Ku Klux Klan.

I'd like to hear

from Mr. Blake himself

if he truly thinks

he can make

a meaningful contribution

to society.

Well put, Rhoda.

Mr. Blake,

what will you do

if you get out

of prison?

Well, I guess,

Mr. Chairman, that,

first, I'd pay a visit

to your house.

To thank me, I suppose?

No, to f*** your wife

and your daughter,

hell,

maybe even your dog.

[chuckling]

I don't think

that's funny.

Then you'll probably hate

this.

[gunshot]

[Rhoda screaming]

[saw noise]

[screaming in pain]

[drill noise]

[grunting]

(man #1)

Go in there.

[c*cks gun]

Watch the hall!

[Rhoda

continues screaming]

[pants and chuckles]

The last time I held

a gun in this hand,

a young man took off

all his clothes for me.

This time,

it's your turn, right?

So come on!

[man over speaker]

Officer Parrish,

report to the main gate.

Can I see

your passes, please?

Six to exit, please.

[gears whirring]

Hey, there,

young fella.

Do you remember me?

The books

in the hospital?

[c*cks gun]

[gunshots]

[screaming]

(Blake)

The van.

Get in the van!

[gunshots]

[screaming]

Start the van!

[engine revving]

By the way...

you're fired.

[gunshot]

[dramatic music]

[crickets chirping]

Car, clothes, money.

You came through,

Blake.

I thought

you were full of sh*t.

(Blake)

I'm just full of ideas, Jesse.

You're the one

that's full of sh*t.

But Kim here

is the brain surgeon.

Did it all.

A little bonus,

Gilligan.

Thanks, Skipper.

[laughs]

(Jesse)

You got one f***ing week

to take care of your

mysterious sh*t in L.A., Blake.

Friday the 12th, we meet

at the White Nation bookstore.

We'll have our passports,

our cash,

and our tickets

out of the country.

Friday the 12th?

Yeah.

That can't be right,

Jesse.

I already have

your passport right here.

[gunshot]

[gagging

Oh, f***!

God damn it, man,

f***!

[dramatic music]

Why the f***

you do that?

You never know when you'll get

an anal retentive coroner.

God, Blake,

there are smart men,

and there are

hard men.

(Blake)

I said help me!

Okay.

[flickering]

(Kim)

Wow, this is great.

I like this.

[grunting]

[ominous music]

[explosion]

I always wanted

a Viking funeral.

(Nick)

Yada, yada, yada,

you know, the form letter.

Send her 50 bucks.

Who was that again?

(woman)

Your mother's

meals on wheels program

at your father's church.

(Nick)

Make it $100. What else?

The Endangered Flower

and Orchid Foundation.

The what?

Priscilla the Hun's

favorite charity.

$200.

All right,

I'll get this out--

$250. Make it $250.

(woman)

Hey, Styles?

Gail, don't even ask me

about the Harrington thing.

It's still in

a grand jury.

Relax,

this one's a golden oldie.

Remember

Earl Talbott Blake?

No, the name

escapes me.

Good choice of words.

He busted out

of a parole hearing

with some

of the Aryan Brotherhood.

30 minutes later,

he was burnt to a crisp.

If it wasn't for his teeth

and the hole

you put in his knee,

they never would have ID'd

the body.

He was your first home run,

Mr. Styles.

Any comment?

And the Aryan Brotherhood

killed him, right?

Well, like my father

always says,

I guess thers a little good

in everybody.

Cold, Styles.

And bold.

My telethon

wants your check, Gail.

(Farris)

And the telethon committee

wants your body, Mr. D.A.

[chuckles]

Mr. Assistant D.A.

This week, my man,

this week.

Get a job.

There are less fortunate

than yourself.

I mean,

we're not scum here.

We're not animal.

We're a human being.

Thank you.

Thank you, sir;

thank you.

[ominous music]

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