Urban Justice Page #3

---

Yeah, man. Right.

Hey, Gary.

This yours?

What the f*** is he doing?

Don't worry about it, dude.

Look like he talking to some cop.

Talking to a cop?

Man, you better check this, man.

Dude, that's my little brother,

all right?

l'll handle that sh*t.

All right.

Don't f***ing worry about it,

all right?

Hey, lsaiah, what up, man?

-The f*** was that about?

-Nothing.

Don't f***ing lie to me.

Who is he?

-That cop's old man.

-You tell him anything?

Just where to find Chivo

and them.

You believe this sh*t, yo?

Man, does a chicken have lips?

-Shut up.

-Like l give a f***.

-Come on, man.

-All right, yo. Listen.

You stay the f*** away from him,

feel me?

-He came looking for me.

-l don't give a f***.

lf l see you with him again,

l'm gonna whup your ass, all right?

-All right?

-All right, man.

-Yo, tell Moms l won't be home tonight.

-Where you gonna be?

-Don't worry about it, just tell her.

-Fine.

-l'm out, yo.

-All right.

Excuse me, sir.

Could l talk to you?

Why don't you get out of here?

You know, l wanna see Chivo.

You know, the problem is,

this is a private club...

...and your name's

not on the list.

So why don't you

just get the f*** out of here?

You look like a smart guy.

l'll tell you what l'm gonna do.

l'll give you 5 bucks

if you could let me in.

How's that?

-l'll tell you what, tough guy.

-What?

lf you can make it back down,

you and me, we've got a date.

-All right.

-Why don't you go on in?

Hey, man, private club.

-Who the f***--?

-Hey, hey.

l'm Simon Ballister, Max's father.

Sorry to hear about your son.

l wanted to talk to you

for a minute, if l could.

Girls, l have to say,

l've found something...

...more important

than you right now.

l'll be back.

So you're the crazy vato that's been

beating the sh*t out of all my guys.

Well, l've been trying

to get some answers, you know?

Yeah. Kind of becoming a habit

with you, ain't it?

l hope not.

Some folks say you might know

something about who killed my son.

Now, let me take a guess.

You heard that from some

myopic gangbangers, right?

That's right.

l thought so.

Why would l wanna kill Max?

He was a good cop.

We were a lot alike,

both pillars of the community.

We both helped our people

our own way.

Well, you know, seems like maybe

he took down a few of your joints.

So what? This is the barrio.

Takes down one of my joints today,

it's back up tomorrow.

And besides, we all know

what kind of heat a dead cop brings.

No. You ever heard of a gang

called the East Side Gangsters?

Heard it came from them.

lt sounds like maybe you're asking me

to take out your competition.

l am.

East Side Gangsters been trying

to cut into my territory for years.

Especially that Armand Tucker.

Yeah, l want you

to take them down...

...but that doesn't mean

what l'm telling you isn't true.

l liked your son.

l swear on my dead mother's grave,

they did it.

You know, l look at you...

...l see a man like me.

A bad man with good intentions.

l believe you.

Mami, tequila.

-Anything else?

-Later.

Here's to my son, and finding

the motherf***er who killed him.

Tough guy.

See, the problem is--

-Excuse me. l really need to talk--

-Get the f*** out of here.

Doing that to my homeboy,

the problem is, l ain't him--

You mean motherf***er.

l don't like it when you pick on

the little people.

-Oh, man.

-Come here.

-Oh, man.

-Come on.

Oh, God, no.

-Thank you.

-You busted my hand.

Thanks so much.

-Bottle of tequila, keep yourself warm.

-Thank you.

-My name's J.D.

-Sandwich. Nice to meet you.

-Thank you, man.

-All right.

-Y'all be good.

-l know it, man.

-Come back and see me sometime.

-l will.

Yeah, l think we got him.

l want a 24-hour tail on him

from now on.

Simon, l just wanted you to know,

for whatever it's worth...

...that l really respect you for how

you've handled this whole situation.

You and Max

must have been really close.

You know, when time passes on,

you kind of get to thinking a little bit.

Seems like

every day that goes by...

...you kind of can't get used

to the fact...

...that somebody

that close to you is gone.

You always think,

'' Hey, man, l gotta call my son'' ...

...or, '' l'm going to see him soon.''

And then you

kind of remember...

...the unthinkable

has actually happened.

Aim. Fire.

There's really

no greater sorrow...

... than when a man's own chilD

passes before he Does.

And l do have regrets,

because when he was a child...

...l really didn't spend

much time with him.

But when he got older...

...l really kind of feel like

l got to make it up.

You could be away from somebody

for 1 0 years...

...knock on the door, walk through

that door, and it's like you never left.

That's close...

...and that's how he and l were,

you know?

That close.

That's him right there, yo.

Why the f*** does Armand

want this nigga dead anyway?

Doesn't matter.

Let's smoke this fool.

We do this and we in.

Bread, b*tches and cocaine.

-You need to stop that snorting sh*t.

-Man, nigga, f*** you.

-Let's smoke this fool.

-Don't f*** up my car, hell.

Say good night, motherf***er.

Goddamn,

l can't believe you missed.

-Back this motherf***er up. Let's go.

-Goddamn, motherf***er. God, sh*t.

-Motherf***er.

-We gotta get out of L.A.

l'm going. lf you didn't have

a motherfucking slow-ass hearse--

You keep talking about my car,

you gonna catch a bus.

Here. Look, we here.

Come on.

Get the tyre, something. Sh*t.

F***!

Look at your dumb ass

missing and sh*t.

-Come on, come on.

-All right, l'm gonna get you closer.

-Shoot the tyres out.

-Drive my motherfucking car.

Just shoot the motherfucking

tyres out this time.

Watch me.

Jack it up, b*tch! Jack it up.

Come on, come on.

Buck again, buck again.

Unload on his ass.

What the f***?

Nice driving, motherf***er.

lt ain't me. This motherf***er

is all over the road.

How the f***

is it the car's fault?

-How come it ain't you?

-F***.

-God, where the f*** is he going?

-Just drive my motherfucking car.

Yeah.

l can't see sh*t.

-l see him.

-Goddamn. F***.

l swear, if something fall out

from under this, it's your ass.

Hang on, hang on.

l'll show you

how to smoke this, motherf***er.

Here we go, we got his ass now.

We got him now. Yeah, right here.

-Come on. Come on.

-Sh*t.

-This motherf***er's slippery as hell.

-Closer.

All right,

l'm gonna get you closer.

-Come on.

-You got him. You got him.

Come on up.

What the f***?

-This motherf***er is crazy as hell.

-Ram his ass.

Go!

What the f***? Oh, sh*t.

Who sent you?

F*** you.

F***.

That's the wrong answer.

l'm gonna ask you one more time.

Who sent you?

Armand, man.

Father lilleD.

Brother, Isaiah Morrison.

Mother, Carla Morrison.

Isaiah, mostly misDemeanours,

no felonies.

Suspicion of burglary,

suspicion of armeD robbery...

...suspicion of Destruction

of property.

Known gang affiliations,

East SiDe Gangsters.

East SiDe Gangsters, suspecteD

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes