True Crime

Blood pressure:
120 over 70.

Normal.

All right, open wide.

Looks fine. Healthy as a horse.

Just one more thing, Luther.

You got to whiz in the cup, Frank.

Then we're done.

F*** them!

We going to argue

the merits of journalism?

You trying to tell me

that's journalism?

Look, Michelle...

...it's been a long weekend.

Everybody's shooting one another

and I've got to write about it.

I'm serious.

I'm tired of the crap, you know?

I should get my Ph.D. Then I could

write about stuff that matters.

You're 23 years old.

You don't know anything that matters.

Well, f*** you too, Ev!

All right, here's a shoulder.

- What did they do to you?

- Not "they." He.

Alan.

He killed my sidebar

on the Frank Beechum murder.

That case stinks anyway,

but it's not the point.

- I read that sidebar.

- It was good. Admit it.

Best I've written in months.

That was the one where you say

that the media...

...glorified Beechum's victim

to mask our patriarchal culture...

...which created the violence

that destroyed her.

You're right.

He should have never killed that.

- F***ing-A!

- I would've tortured it.

Well, it might have enjoyed that.

I think it would've enjoyed

every second of that.

Another round?

Another margarita for the lady,

and I'll have my usual.

Not your "usual" usual?

No, my new usual.

Virgin Mary.

And heavy on the...

...virgin?

Tell me something.

If you're such hot sh*t, why are you

stuck here in Bumfuck, California?

Looking for love.

You've come to all the wrong places.

Not from where I sit.

It's not good. Not smart.

- What's smart got to do with anything?

- I can't do this.

I got to go.

I got to go.

You're married and you're...

I can't do this.

I got to go.

Next time?

Yeah, next time.

Frank!

We're out!

Just hold on. I can't hear you.

Morning, Frank.

Can I get you anything?

Some breakfast?

Well, if I can get, like...

...a roll and some coffee.

I'll get that right away.

You're not wearing

your protective glasses.

You heard about it?

What a tragedy.

The Raiders are a tragedy.

She drunk?

I don't know.

It was Dead Man's Curve.

- Did she have anything big on?

- The interview with Beechum...

...at San Quentin,

then the execution tonight.

It's worse for Michelle.

You think so, Bob?

If the warden will okay

a replacement for the interview...

...I'll take Harvey out

of that meeting.

- Put Everett on it.

- Steve has the day off.

Not anymore. He can do the interview

and witness the execution.

And what's-his-name,

the warden at San Quentin...

Steve's dealt with him before.

I can get him in.

- You think Everett's an a**hole.

- I don't think that.

You're wrong. He is an a**hole.

Trust me, I know him.

But a lot of people who are good

at their jobs are a**holes.

I know that, Alan, all right?

It's not about that.

Everything with Everett is a witch-hunt,

like that Mike Vargas piece.

He's not a drunk now.

Two months ago he's a drunk,

now he's Mother Teresa.

This is not a Steve Everett

slash-and-burn job.

This is a sidebar.

It's an issue piece.

"An issue piece."

Well, dog my cats!

It's capital punishment, Alan.

We are putting a man to death tonight.

We are killing a human being.

Stop the presses!

By the way,

that Amy what's-her-name...

...the pregnant broad

Frankie shot in the throat...

...was she a human being?

Is that part of the issue?

Yeah, that is part of the issue.

Let me tell you...

Cake?

Issues are sh*t we use

as an excuse to run good stories.

"Judge Grabs Female Attorney's Tits."

The sex discrimination "issue."

"Nine-year-old Shoots

Brother With Uzi."

The child violence "issue."

People want to read

about sex organs and blood.

You know what?

We make up issues so they don't have

to feel too nasty about it. Got it?

I should call Everett,

because that's his attitude.

A little sarcasm?

How long you been here? Three months?

I've worked with Everett

for three years.

And let me tell you something, Bob.

The guy is good, as good as anybody

I've ever worked with.

You know why

he was run out of New York?

I heard some things.

He busted the mayor.

The mayor of f***ing New York City!

He found a secret memo on a bribe...

...between His Honor and an ex-borough

president and ran with it.

So?

The paper killed it because

the owner was in bed with the mayor.

What did Everett do?

He didn't whine...

...and he didn't back down.

He just f***ing walked.

That's Steve Everett.

- Fine.

- Good.

- How's the quitting smoking?

- Great.

When you send the flowers

to that dead girl...

...Michelle's family...

...would you include my name?

Thanks.

- See you.

- All right.

The mayor of New York City, Bob.

The mayor, you gullible a**hole.

Yeah, I could have stayed

in New York forever.

They were about to put me

in charge of an investigative team.

That would have put me

on the Pulitzer track.

I really liked it there.

Broadway shows, downtown jazz clubs...

...dinners at Elaine's,

veal chops up the old wazoo.

Not veal chops like that, though.

Jaws!

Now you have to kiss it

and make it better.

So you were the king of New York.

Why are you hacking out metro stories

at the Oakland Tribune?

Well, that's a long story.

I got caught in the supply room

with a very young lady.

Turned out to be the owner's daughter.

How the hell was I supposed to know

she was underage?

She looked 18 to me.

Anyway, I got blackballed

all over town.

You bad man!

What did your wife say?

We'd just had the kid,

so she took it kind of hard.

But Alan offered us

this gig out here.

Another town, another change.

Bad man!

First the owner's daughter,

now the editor's wife.

Do I detect a little...

...hostility towards authority figures?

Only ones I work for.

Is that what you'll say

in the next town with someone else?

"I got caught with the editor's wife.

You know."

I get caught

with the editor's wife...

...there's not many more towns

that'll have me.

So playtime's over?

You've got to go to work.

I've got to get home...

...see if the wife and kid

still recognize me.

You won't tell me how awful we are,

will you?

Bob, he's a decent sort.

Good newspaperman, solid editor.

So this all just stinks...

...right?

What we're doing?

Patricia...

...you and I are just two people

swimming through the passions of life.

You know?

Look, it's all right.

It's not like I love you or anything.

That's good.

Because I don't love you too.

All right.

Yes, all right.

You won't believe this.

What?

That was Bob.

What'd he want?

He was looking for you.

Who told him?

How should I know?

Morning, Frank.

Mr. Plunkitt.

Anything I can get for you?

Anything you need?

No, not anything I can think of.

There's some matters

I gotta discuss with you.

Figured we'd do it first,

get it out of the way.

Your dinner tonight,

for one thing...

...can be pretty much

anything you want.

You go ahead and tell Reedy here

when you decide.

Now, about your personal effects...

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