Urban Justice (2007) Movie Script
Can't you call in sick and tell them
you have a doctor's appointment?
And l'll make it worth your while.
You do make it hard.
Received a call yesterday...
...and got a lead
on some bookie joints opening up.
Should be a pretty dull day...
...so l will be home by 6.
-You are gonna make me late.
-l am not.
l gotta go.
-Oh, no, please?
-Get off.
l gotta go.
-Come on.
-No, l don't want you to. Please?
-Got to.
-No.
-Got to. Got to.
-No. No.
Oh, yeah.
You're beautiful.
GooD morning, Los Angeles.
It's 6.:30 a.m.
The temperature
is a cool 49 Degrees.
The traffic is alreaDy starting
to become heavy.
A shootout tool place
in South Compton last night...
... leaving a 26-year-olD male DeaD.
In a statement issueD
by the police...
... the shooting has been blameD
on the violence between two gangs...
...HyDe Parl
anD East SiDe Gangsters...
... who have been the focus
of the mayor's commitment.
-Come on.
-What's up, man?
Shit.
-Shut up. Stay still.
-l ain't did nothing.
Stay right there. Come on.
Get down.
Get down.
What the fuck?
All right.
Let's get out of here.
Hey, check it out.
Oh, shit.
All right, let's go.
All right, let's go.
Ron and Schrulner.
l always had my suspicions.
But who are you?
Come on.
Hello.
What, now?
This better be important.
l'll be there in 20.
-Damn it.
-What's wrong?
l gotta go get somebody.
-l'll be less than an hour.
-Dinner's almost ready.
l know, l know, l'll make it quick.
Promise.
-l guess l'll keep a plate warm for you.
-Thanks.
Come on, Gary, it's cold.
Linda's gonna have my ass.
Hello.
Hello.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Max Ballister is a hero.
He gave his life in the line of duty
with courage and conviction.
His loss will forever
be remembered by everyone.
Simon, the police say
it was a random gang shooting.
They may never know who did it.
l won't accept that option, Simon.
Someone murdered Max.
Someone shot him in cold blood.
lf you come by the house,
l have copies of the police reports...
...they would release to me.
Along with Max's personal items.
-Yo.
-Hello.
Can l help you?
Sign says room for rent.
l have a few apartments
available upstairs.
This the kind of place
you're looking for?
Can l see the room?
Yeah.
Follow me.
So they're not exactly
the Four Seasons...
...but they're cheap,
and they rent by the week.
lt comes furnished.
Change your mind?
No, it's perfect.
All right. Well, l'm gonna need
the first week in advance.
Yeah, that's no problem.
Cop was killed not far from here
the other day.
Know anything about that?
Like l said,
this isn't the best neighbourhood.
-ln fact, it's getting worse by the week.
-Yeah.
That cop was my son.
Oh, l'm sorry.
How much you say l owe you?
One twenty-five.
By the way, l'm Simon Ballister.
l'm Alice Park.
-Nice to meet you.
-You too.
-Can l help you?
-This is my 'hood, penDejo.
You don't fucking belong here.
Really?
Listen, l got some personal stuff going
on that makes me have to be here...
...so why don't you take
your lively, chubby ass...
...and get the fuck off my car?
lt's my fucking 'hood.
l'm starting to get scared.
l'm starting to get scared.
Come on, rob me.
Kung fu this, motherfucker.
Tell every motherfucker
they're not safe...
...till l find the motherfucker
who killed my son.
You understand me?
Tell them. Tell them what l said.
l'm gonna get that guy.
How can l help you?
l'm Simon Ballister,
Max's father.
He was murdered last week...
...and l'd like to speak
with the officer in charge.
l'm sorry. Max was a good man.
Highly respected officer
in this department.
Detective Shaw is heading up his case.
l'll let him know you're here.
Simon Ballister,
Max's father, here to see you.
Thank you, send him in.
-Right back this way, Mr. Ballister.
-Thank you.
l know, l know,
that's what he told me.
Hello, Mr. Ballister.
l'm Detective Shaw.
Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
A little privacy please?
-Yeah.
-Please, have a seat.
Well, l didn't mean
to bother you or anything...
...but l just wanna see if there's
any updates, you know, intel...
...on my son's case.
-As l explained to your wife--
-You mean my ex-wife.
Ex-wife.
--the chances of finding
your son's killer are slim to none.
He was one of ours,
we don't take that lightly...
...but it looks like
it was a random gang shooting.
lt's kind of disappointing to see
that kind of confidence...
...from my son's own team,
you know?
l understand. Unfortunately,
the numbers worked against us.
Last year,
we had 487 homicides...
...almost half of which
were gang related.
Good news is, that's down 6 percent
from the year before.
Does that mean you have
no evidence whatsoever?
He was found in the street
next to his car.
A random shooting.
Killer probably never
stepped out of the car.
All we do have is the bullet,
which we recovered from him.
-What calibre was that?
-Forty.
Mr. Ballister, he was
a well-respected officer.
We were all very fond of him.
Listen, would you mind if l give you
a call now and again?
Not at all. Here's my card.
Did you ever get the chance
to meet my son?
No, wish l had.
Unfortunately,
our paths never crossed.
He worl eD Vice,
out of heaDquarters.
l've been assigned here
since l pinned on a badge.
-Here you go, sir.
-Thank you.
Thank you.
Pleasure meeting you.
Detective Shaw.
Hello?
-Holy shit, man.
-What's up, man?
What's up, man?
l came here looking for you.
That's it.
-For me?
-Yeah.
l ain't trying to rob no one, man.
Come on, man.
For real, man. l heard you was asking
questions, man. That's about it, man.
Come here.
Sit down. Sit down.
Man.
So, what's your name?
Gary, man. Gary Morrison.
What are you doing here?
l just came here to ask you
a couple questions.
l heard you was asking about Max.
Max Ballister.
Did you know my son?
l mean, l ran numbers,
Max, he worked Vice, so....
You know, times came,
l helped him out with a couple tips...
...on a few local joints in the area,
and things like that.
l got you. So you're a snitch.
Man, that's a rude term, man.
l was a Cl, all right?
l was a confidential informant.
ln other words, you're a snitch.
You a cop too?
Not exactly.
You Simon.
See, Max-- Yeah, man.
Max, he mentioned you couple times.
Hey, look, man,
l don't know you that well, man...
...but the East Side Gangsters,
they run this neighbourhood.
-ls that right?
-l mean, you stick around, like:
Like, they'll probably kill you.
Before all them bad things
happen to me...
...maybe you could tell me
where they are.
They stay over in the projects
on Florence.
-On Florence?
-lt's a closed construction site now...
...but that's where Max was shot.
Like l said, it ain't a good idea for you
to go nowhere near there.
l really don't care
what their business is.
l just want the motherfucker
that killed my son.
l understand, man.
Like l said, Max,
he was a good guy, man.
l mean.... l don't know,
l gots to go, man.
Hey, man, look,
l'm sorry about Max, man.
Yeah, me too.
So, what are you thinking?
-lt's Gary.
-Gary doesn't have the balls.
Think about it. Now, his brother lsaiah
is trying to work his way up.
Killing Max could have been
his ticket.
-Let's take him down, then.
-Timing's not right.
We'll take him down
when we take down Armand.
Knock, knock, nigga.
What the fuck's your bitch ass
doing off in here?
Looks like your luck just ran out.
You know what, man?
Luck is a funny motherfucking thing.
Oh, why's that?
Luck can change in the blink
of a motherfucking eye.
You're a badass white boy, huh?
Think you bad, huh?
Come on, motherfucker. You--
Motherfucker, you wanna tell me
who killed my son?
Man, l don't know shit.
You don't know shit, huh?
-Who killed my son?
-Nigga, fuck you.
l'm gonna be doing
the fucking now.
-Man, fuck y'all.
-What'd you say?
Fuck you. l don't know shit.
Shit! Man, in my fucking ear.
-Fuck. l'm gonna smoke your ass.
-l'm gonna ask you one more time.
Hey, all right, look.
l'll get you some knowledge, all right?
-Shot my fucking ear off.
-Who killed my son?
-lt wasn't who you think it is, all right?
-lt ain't who l think? What's that mean?
-Nigga, it wasn't us.
-Shit. You motherfucker...
...l'm gonna get your ass.
Bitch, you're dead, bitch.
l got nothing but time for you.
Don't forget that.
You shot my fucking ear.
Oh, fuck.
l'm gonna get your fucking ass.
Oh, shit.
Benny, what's your problem?
Armand, why are we playing
these games?
Well, Benny, l like games.
l've got a game we can play.
lt's got one question:
Why are you a snitch?
-No, l'm not a snitch.
-That ain't what l heard.
You should be working for CNN
the way you put my business out.
Armand, look at what l gave you.
There's a major deal
going down...
...and l risked my life to bring you
this information because l respect you.
Because l wanna do business
with you.
l wanna do business
with you too, Benny.
-Let me cut this cheque for you.
-Thank you.
You should know
nigga's cheque's gonna bounce.
What the fuck are you doing?
Oh, my bad.
l didn't like the way he smelled.
All right, look.
l've got most of the information
on the deal he was brokering.
-l'll keep you informed.
-Oh, the fuck you will.
You let me know when and where,
me and my boys will be there.
Like l said,
l will keep you informed.
What the hell
happened to you two?
Man, some big-ass white boy
jumped us.
A white boy.
-What?
-Nigga, are you deaf?
Yeah, man. That nigga is.
Look, some big-ass white boy...
...as in Paul Bunyan motherfucker,
came out of nowhere up in the spot...
...did some kung fu shit
on my little homey and me...
...grabbed that nigga's gun
and shot his ear.
-Nigga, please.
-What?
Hey, take it easy, all right?
Just put the gun down. Relax.
Where's Maurice and Anthony?
Man, them niggas gone, man.
He smoked both them fools.
-One dude?
-Yeah.
One dude smoked
two of my motherfuckers?
What are y'all, bitches?
Do l have to buy y'all dresses?
You niggas want miniskirts, tutus?
Dip your motherfucking ass in olive oil
and put you in roller skates, bitch?
Dude said his name
was like Ballister...
-...or Bollister or some shit--
-Ballister did this to you?
Yeah, that's that nigga, right.
Yeah, Ballister.
Fuck. The guy
l was telling you about.
You knew this motherfucker
was gonna do shit like this?
l got a lot of money
on this deal, partner.
Ain't got time for this bullshit.
-Clean that motherfucker up.
-Come on, man.
Yeah, l can see
what you're thinking, Benny.
You had deceit on your mind.
Think you're gonna take
a brother down?
Remember Scarface,
motherfucker?
'' Look at you now.
Look at you now, you fuck.''
So it must feel good
to be able to put to use...
...those lessons
you learned in the military.
Yeah, well, l really wasn't
in the military.
You're not a salesman, Simon.
And you're not a cop. And someone
taught you how to fight like that.
No, no, no. All the fighting stuff,
l got that off home videos.
Whatever.
-Listen, could l ask you a question?
-Shoot.
Those bangers that were here,
what gang are they with?
Hyde Park.
They're Chivo's boys.
Chivo had something to do
with your son's murder?
l'll let you know.
-Hello.
-Hello, this is Simon.
Simon? Yeah....
Yeah, Max spoke very fondly
about you.
l saw you at the funeral.
l wanted to come over
and pay my condolences...
...but l just wasn't quite
in the mood, sorry.
l understand.
l wanted to see if the police
had been by to interview you...
...and whether or not they returned
any of Max's property, or....
They were more interested
in any files or paperwork...
...that he might have
brought home.
Did Max have anything
on a computer, by any chance?
Yeah, but the police took it.
Well, listen,
l just want you to know one thing.
l will find who did this to my son.
And if you need anything,
you call me, you hear?
All right, babe.
-Shoot it.
-Defence.
Come on, man,
Don't let them score again.
Man.
Pass the ball, man.
Make some shots, l could dish it
to you. You playing with no D on it.
They done got three points, man.
lt's 9-7. You wanna win this or what?
-You crazy?
-We need to talk.
Look around you, fool.
You see all those eyes on us?
Any of them see me get in that car,
l'm dead. You feel me?
Well, look, l'll just pretend like
l'm a policeman. You know?
You ain't no cop,
that's for sure, man.
Heard what happened
to them boys.
News in the 'hood travels fast,
don't it, now?
Look, man, l need your help.
-What's up, partner?
-lt's good, homes.
What kind of help?
l need you to help me find
who killed my son.
Ain't no way nobody ever gonna find
his killer, man, that's for damn sure.
You have to tell me what you know.
What you gonna do
if you find the shooter, huh?
l'm gonna kill him.
l don't care who ordered the hit.
l don't care
whose business is what.
l just wanna know
who killed my son.
lt's not looking good for me, man.
Get in the car.
All right, showtime.
What do you know?
Man, look, man, there's this Mexican
called El Chivo, all right?
-The goat?
-Yeah.
He runs the Hyde Park Gang.
Them motherfuckers there.
You think this guy
might have pulled the trigger?
Maybe.
l mean, maybe he had
somebody pull a drive-by.
Well, like l said, l don't really care
about who ordered it or anything.
l just want the shooter.
Well, if it came from Chivo,
he would know who did it.
You have any idea
why he might want my son dead?
Max, man.... Look, he hit
them bookie joints hard, man.
Chivo, he runs most of them.
You know how it is, man.
You start fucking with a man's money,
you could end up dead.
Where can l find this guy?
He got a club on Slauson
called Anodyne, all right?
He's there most nights.
All right, you did good, man.
l'll see you soon, you hear?
Thank you.
Yeah, man. Right.
Hey, Gary.
This yours?
What the fuck 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 shit.
All right.
Don't fucking worry about it,
all right?
Hey, lsaiah, what up, man?
-The fuck was that about?
-Nothing.
Don't fucking 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 shit, yo?
Man, does a chicken have lips?
-Shut up.
-Like l give a fuck.
-Come on, man.
-All right, yo. Listen.
You stay the fuck away from him,
feel me?
-He came looking for me.
-l don't give a fuck.
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 fuck 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 fuck--?
-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 shit 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 motherfucker who killed him.
Tough guy.
See, the problem is--
-Excuse me. l really need to talk--
-Get the fuck out of here.
Doing that to my homeboy,
the problem is, l ain't him--
You mean motherfucker.
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 fuck does Armand
want this nigga dead anyway?
Doesn't matter.
Let's smoke this fool.
We do this and we in.
Bread, bitches and cocaine.
-You need to stop that snorting shit.
-Man, nigga, fuck you.
-Let's smoke this fool.
-Don't fuck up my car, hell.
Say good night, motherfucker.
Goddamn,
l can't believe you missed.
-Back this motherfucker up. Let's go.
-Goddamn, motherfucker. God, shit.
-Motherfucker.
-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. Shit.
Fuck!
Look at your dumb ass
missing and shit.
-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, bitch! Jack it up.
Come on, come on.
Buck again, buck again.
Unload on his ass.
What the fuck?
Nice driving, motherfucker.
lt ain't me. This motherfucker
is all over the road.
How the fuck
is it the car's fault?
-How come it ain't you?
-Fuck.
-God, where the fuck is he going?
-Just drive my motherfucking car.
Yeah.
l can't see shit.
-l see him.
-Goddamn. Fuck.
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, motherfucker.
Here we go, we got his ass now.
We got him now. Yeah, right here.
-Come on. Come on.
-Shit.
-This motherfucker'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 fuck?
-This motherfucker is crazy as hell.
-Ram his ass.
Go!
What the fuck? Oh, shit.
Who sent you?
Fuck you.
Fuck.
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
in over 30 lillings in the past year.
Racl eteering,
Drug running, murDer.
ArmanD Tucl er, no convictions.
-Yeah?
-Yeah, Simon Ballister.
-Hi.
-What Do you want?
Listen, l need
that package right away.
All right, where are you?
lt's 1 001 North Central.
-L.A. ?
-That's right.
You know, the only part they didn't
have in Scarface was him fucking.
Tweedledee and Tweedle-dumbass,
you don't know--
-Hold on, man. Hold on.
-''Say hello to my little friend.''
You understand me?
He'd just hold a gun to the bitch.
-Be like, nigga, suck it.
-Armand?
Let y'all snort some cocaine
off this motherfucker.
-Excuse me, boss?
-Motherfucker!
Can't you see
l'm doing something?
-Excuse me, boss--
-Why the fuck you gonna interrupt me?
-Sorry, boss.
-You females go on and go upstairs--
-Reggie B. and lsaiah--
-Nigga, hold the fuck up.
-All right, all right.
-You ladies go back to the room...
...get it cracking without me,
you understand me?
l'll be in in a minute.
And feel free
to try them little things out.
You know what l'm saying?
l got some toys back there.
Yeah, it's Christmas.
-You like that, huh?
-Hell, yeah.
You could have that on the regular
if you handle your business.
l'm disappointed in both of y'all.
Especially you, lsaiah.
You hold your bitch ass up
right there, partner.
Take that motherfucking rag off
around your bitch-ass neck.
You ain't repping shit.
Look at the ground.
Look at the floor.
Don't even look at me, nigga.
Boy, l put trust in you.
l put trust in you, boy.
l put trust in you,
but you wanna fuck up.
You know l don't ask people
for many things, man.
Most of what l accomplish,
l accomplish myself.
Everything l accomplish,
l accomplish my damn self...
...because l ain't gonna never
snitch on me, nigga.
l asked you to do this
to prove yourself...
...and you drop the ball, coz.
-Yo, man, this Simon--
-Silence, nigga.
Look, l know
this motherfucker tough.
That's why l gave you this assignment.
lt's a chance to prove yourself.
Now, if you prove yourself,
we got a thing called trust.
Trust go a long way
in this organisation.
You understand me?
-You understand me?
-Yes, sir.
Good, because
if you don't do this correctly, partner...
...we ain't friends.
Matter of fact, we enemies.
You, your family, your mama...
...that pregnant bitch
you got around the corner, nigga.
Yeah. You wanna see
that child, nigga?
Because l don't give a fuck
about the little motherfucker.
Why don't you do yourself
a motherfucking favour...
...and go kill that son of a bitch?
Keep your head up, coz.
And this time, make sure
he lay down and stay there.
They don't make niggas
like they used to.
These little motherfuckers running
around here, krump dancing and shit.
One motherfucking white boy.
How the fuck my whole motherfucking
clique bruised the fuck up?
What kind of steroids this
motherfucker on? This is my shit here.
He wanna run his little white ass
around here like he renegade.
Matter of fact-- Hey, you bitches,
get your ass up out of here.
Your skeleton-ass, motherfucking
drug-addict ho's snorting up my shit.
The fuck
out of my goddamn house.
Kill the bitch in a week,
goddamn it.
-Morning.
-Morning.
Special delivery
for Simon Ballister.
-Upstairs, apartment A.
-Great. Thank you.
No problem.
You ain't gonna score again,
l'm telling you.
You ain't gonna score.
l ain't gonna let you.
l ain't gonna let you.
Can't let you score.
Can't let you score.
Finally got the ball.
You can't guard me.
l'm about to pop
that shit right here.
You don't even know
when l'm coming, do you? Do you?
Patience, baby.
Yo, l quit, man.
You're good, y'all. l'll get out.
l'm tired. You be playing
too much defence.
Play lsaiah.
Bet he won't be
doing all that then.
Good game, though.
Good game.
Take care.
Why?
Check out the guy over here.
Got the Lone Ranger over here.
Shit.
Let's go, guys.
Let's have a little fun. Let's go.
-Take cover.
-Run, nigger, run, boy. Run.
Come on.
Run his fucking ass down.
Come on.
You're going nowhere.
Get him. Get him.
Shit.
Yeah. Yeah.
Hey, hey.
Where you going, nigger?
Alone in the 'hood?
Maybe me and my boys will give you
a little bit of hospitality, huh?
You ain't going nowhere, man.
-He's scared.
-We're gonna have fun.
-What you got in your bag, huh?
-We're gonna work you over real good.
Were you lost?
Keep moving, white boy.
You stupid motherfucker.
-Didn't you hear me, white boy?
-Got your back, brother.
Who you calling white boy,
mother--?
Hey.
Bad motherfucker.
Gary. Let's go.
Been an accident at Bellevue.
We need an ambulance.
Don't make fun of my ride.
lt's a rental.
Damn. Hope you got insurance.
Man, that was some crazy shit.
Where the fuck
you learn that shit, man?
Yo, l bet he never had
an ass-whupping like that before. Shit.
-Can l ask you something?
-Anything, man.
Why'd you lie to me
about Chivo?
-What you talking about?
-See, l think you're trying to play me.
Look, fool,
l ain't never said he did it, man.
l told you what the word
on the street was.
Chivo didn't have nothing
to do with Max.
-What, you asked him or something?
-That's right, l asked him.
He told you
he ain't have shit to do with it?
That's right.
-And you knew he wasn't lying?
-That's right.
-But l am?
-That's right.
Man, fuck you, man.
l'm leaving, man.
Would you like me to stop the car
so you don't land on your head?
Shit.
How's your brother?
Did he have a little accident
last night?
Man, how the fuck
you know about that, man?
Because l caused the accident, see?
He tried to ambush me last night.
Brother with the East Side boys?
ls that it?
Who's Armand Tucker?
Hey, did your brother
kill my son?
You ain't got nothing to say?
All right.
You protecting your brother?
l'm leaving, man.
Hey, Gary.
My backpack, man.
Good rocks, it's gonna cost you.
-Yo.
-Hey, lsaiah.
Hey, you gonna
pick me up, man?
-Do you got my money?
-You all right? What happened?
Man, just some skinheads
tripping, man.
l'll be there
as soon as l can, all right?
Taking care of some business
for Armand.
Yo, man.
Hey, you gotta stop that shit, dog.
-What?
-No, no, no. l was talking to Reggie.
Stupid-ass motherfucker.
Yo, man, let's go, dog.
Look, man, l really need
to speak to you, man, for real.
l got some shit to run by you.
Hey, l'm on my way,
all right? One.
You anD your brother heaD bacl,
l eep an eye on my place.
EveryboDy else, remember,
this is for big bucls, no fuclups.
All right, gentlemen, here we go.
Keep your voice down.
Gentlemen, take it up front.
You got my goods, huh?
lt's all there.
Two hundred birds, baby.
All right.
-You counted it?
-Yeah.
-You say it's good?
-We got the car.
-Where's the money at?
-What's up? Right here, baby.
We should rush
these motherfuckers.
The deal was you do
what l say, remember?
Don't double-cross me. l'm the one
that put you on to these fools.
Just sit back and watch.
Who knows,
you might just learn something.
Handle your business, partner.
-lt's all there.
-Looking kind of light though.
-lt's all there.
-Count the stuff. lt's all there.
Let's make it happen.
lf you don't believe it,
just count. Count the cash.
Yeah, it is.
Money's yours.
-Shred them.
-Look at the bottom.
We good, man. We good.
-Dope is ours, money is ours.
-Take the shot.
-Let's do it.
-Yes, brother.
Motherfucker set us up.
Well?
Nice classroom.
-Rasheed, get the car.
-Let's go.
Nice shot, pal. Bring it on down.
Where are we?
lt's all here. What do you got?
-Looks like about 200 keys.
-About 3 million cash.
Take them wheels right there.
You two load up in that one.
Follow me.
-Get in, gentlemen.
-Let's go.
Let's move. Now, now, now.
Meet you out front.
Let's go. Move it.
Just dump it in. Let's go.
-Merry fucking Christmas.
-Man, fuck Santa Claus.
He never got me shit.
That's why l sell dope.
All right, listen up.
Now, take that yeyo down below.
After you done with that,
take this SUV to the chop shop...
-...put it in pieces and crush it.
-Keep your eyes open.
-Can't believe we pulled this shit off.
-You couldn't have done it without us.
Now, that money doesn't move
until we broker the dope.
Man, you know what your problem is?
You worry too much.
Once we ship this shit east, man,
we all gonna get paid.
All right. l'm posting men outside,
make sure nothing comes or goes.
Good looking out.
Five million in cocaine and cash.
Any idea how much we could make
if we step on it two or three times?
-Yeah, l do.
-l'm talking helicopter, Bill Gates.
-Helicopter.
-l always wanted one, man.
That way l can get a bird's-eye view
of my territory.
l can watch the little soldiers
slanging and banging.
ln case a little motherfucker fuck up,
l can come in, Vietnam Rambo style.
You know, right out
the side of that bitch:
Drop, bitch!
-Yeah. You've been to Nam?
-Been to Nam? You been to Compton?
Vietnam ain't got shit
on the motherfucker CPT, coz.
Ballister is making you look bad.
What's it gonna take?
Plastic surgery. Don't worry.
We got a special delivery for his ass.
Yeah, you better.
lt's that nigga right there.
Yo, call him.
Hey, Armand?
Yeah, he here. Just pulled up.
Hey, youngster,
some real shit gonna go on here.
Keep your mouth shut, okay?
-All right?
-All right.
There has been so much going on
around here, Simon.
You have to give me something.
Yeah, man. Make it happen, man.
Going up there and do this thing.
-Got your ass now, motherfucker.
-Hey, coz.
Get strapped up, baby.
Hey, man,
we gotta make it happen, man.
l ain't playing with you.
You know you did
the right thing, right?
-Yes, sir.
-We'll show you how to put work in.
Get over there right now
and get down. We got company.
-Who's out there?
-East Side Gang.
-Oh, God, what are we gonna do?
-Follow me and stay low.
Get down.
Go to the back,
go to the back.
Gotta find him.
Get up.
Oh, shit, man.
Watch out.
Superman.
Have some of this kryptonite.
Stay down, stay down. Okay.
Okay, l gotta do this.
Jesus.
You can do this.
Okay, okay, okay.
Let that motherfucker
have it, man.
Come on.
You ever had
some crazy nigga, bitch?
Go get the motherfucking car.
Get the car.
You like dim sum, bitch?
Well, you can have some,
and that bitch-ass white boy you with.
You and the punk-ass
motherfucker you with.
Get in, get in.
Drive, motherfucker. Drive.
Simon? The cops are coming.
The cops are coming.
No, look at me, Simon.
Stay with me, Simon.
-Wal e up.
-ReaDy.
-Wal e up, Simon.
-Aim.
Fire. Ready.
l swear on my dead mother's grave,
they did it.
Someone murDereD Max.
-lt wasn't who you think it is, all right?
-Someone shot him in colD blooD.
The chances of finDing
your son's liller are slim to none.
Please....
Wal e up, Simon.
Wal e up, Simon.
Wake up, Simon.
No, Simon, let go.
That's my cousin Winston.
Simon, Simon, stop.
That's my cousin, let him go.
-Damn.
-Sorry, man.
You probably
just reopened that wound.
Don't worry, man. l'm all right.
He's a nurse
at USC Medical Center.
This is what he specializes in,
Simon.
You need to take it easy
on those stitches, dog.
They're gonna hold. lt's fine.
l'm gonna have to look
or it's gonna get infected.
l don't have time for that.
l've got to go.
Yo, man, what the fuck
you doing in my house?
l'm looking for this.
Oh, lookie here, look what l found.
Does this look familiar?
Gun don't look familiar.
l don't know where you got it.
-What, did you kill my son with this?
-We didn't do that shit.
You been running around
fucking up everybody over this.
-No, man, we didn't do that hit, dog.
-You killed my son with this, didn't you?
And you just fucked up
by dropping your gun.
Yeah, smoke that nigga this time.
Don't miss.
You done fucked up
by being a dumb motherfucker too.
The fuck? lsaiah.
-Man, look, man.
-What the fuck?
-You play me?
-Fuck, man.
What is this?
Go ahead, play me some more.
Man, l didn't even do shit.
l ain't playing you.
Fuck, man. lsaiah.
He fine, he fine. He all right.
Who did my son?
You played me.
You lied to me about Chivo,
you sent me down the wrong road.
-What are you hiding?
-lt was that dirty cop, Shaw...
...who killed Max, man.
When l was--
When l was hanging with lsaiah...
...l overheard a conversation
between Shaw and Armand.
They was talking about
how they gonna eliminate Max, man.
Why?
l told you, man.
Max, he was a nice guy.
l tried to warn him, man.
l went there that night.
l was just too late.
Too fucking late.
Fuck, l saw it all happen.
Shaw just shot him.
Fucking shot him.
Wiped the gun down,
threw it over a fence.
l hopped that fence, man.
l grabbed the gun, l fucking ran.
l fuck-- l ran. l ran.
l ran, man,
until l ain't hear fucking shit.
No siren, nothing.
l sure enough wish you would have
told me that a long time ago.
l did not come to this town
to get played.
l wanted to come here
and take care of one thing.
l'm gonna go see Shaw.
-l hope you're not lying.
-l'm sorry, man.
l'm sorry.
They were gonna kill my family!
Fucking family.
This is an H&K G36.
lt's a bad machine gun, man.
-This is revenge.
-Yeah, that's what it is, revenge.
What the fuck you think it is?
-Why?
-Because they killed my son.
-Simon, this is never going to end.
-l don't really give a fuck what they do.
l just know what l'm gonna do.
-You're just as bad as they are.
-No, l'm a lot fucking worse.
-These guys for real?
-For sure.
Say, man,
l don't trust this motherfucker.
You gotta watch them.
These motherfuckers get out of line,
we gonna take them out, all right?
Yeah, it's about that time, nigga.
-What's up, coz?
-Armand.
What's up with the white boys?
Hey, man, what can l say?
Affirmative action, you know.
l wouldn't touch that
till l see some money.
Come on.
Check that out, Shaw.
Yeah, we're good.
Just like l promised.
-You playing me, motherfucker?
-Say what, nigga?
Who the fuck
do you think you dealing with?
-Nigga, what's your problem?
-What's my problem?
l'll tell you what my problem is.
That's fucking baking soda, bitch.
lt is baking soda.
l should have known better than to
deal with low-level West Coast hood.
Fuck the West Coast, nigga.
Get my money
and let's get the fuck out of here.
Fuck's going on?
Somebody answer me.
What's going on?
-That motherfucker Ballister.
-Fucking son of a bitch.
Ballister? What does that mean?
Hey, man, why don't you do yourself
and me a favour, all right?
Shut the fuck up.
Now, l know my original plan
didn't go as planned...
-...but l got a contingency.
-Contingency plan?
Bitch, what the fuck
is your contingency plan?
Just let me look over
the paperwork, partner.
That's the motherfucking
contingency plan, partner.
-You motherfuckers.
-Yeah, fuck you, bitch.
Look at your whore ass now.
Dressed like a motherfucking
tampon, nigga, what?
That's the problem with you
New York niggas.
Running around,
all shiny and shit.
You dressed for the funeral
you about to have, motherfucker.
-You gonna kill me?
-Oh, l think it's obvious, partner.
Look around.
You already fucked up, Armand,
by double-crossing me.
-Don't make this shit any worse.
-Let's see, how could it get worse?
Look like your boys is dead.
Yeah, you dead already.
You kill me, my homeboys
are gonna retaliate.
Believe me, motherfucker,
they won't stop until your ass is dead.
How the fuck
a dead motherfucker...
...gonna retaliate,
you stupid son of a bitch?
A dead man can't walk.
You already dead, see?
You got killed by the L.A.P.D.
in a motherfucking shootout.
Process that, nigga. Can your neuron
fire that fast, motherfucker?
Yeah, that's what happened.
L.A.P.D. shot your bitch ass.
Happens all the time.
Ain't that right, Shaw?
Yeah, that's right.
-l got the stairs. You take the front.
-Got it.
Fuck.
Come on, Ballister.
Come on out here, you big fuck.
Let's go. You and me, brother.
l'm talking to you!
Hey!
Come on, you stupid fuck,
answer me.
Pussy. Come on, baby.
l'm waiting.
You're gonna make me
come to you, huh?
Where are you, sensei?
Obi-Wan.
Fuck.
Kill this motherfucker.
Kill him. Kill him.
Kill him.
Kill him.
l gotta hand it to you, partner.
You're quite the father. Come back
and run through the neighbourhood.
Killing up all kind of niggas
and Mexicans.
Just a white boy on a rampage.
But we still got this little dilemma,
now, do we not?
l know you ain't dumb enough
to bring a fist to a gunfight.
l am.
You probably think
l'm gonna kill you.
But you know what?
l came here for one thing.
And l did what l came here to do.
l got no beef with you.
He's a cool motherfucker.
Now, that shit was gangster.
you have a doctor's appointment?
And l'll make it worth your while.
You do make it hard.
Received a call yesterday...
...and got a lead
on some bookie joints opening up.
Should be a pretty dull day...
...so l will be home by 6.
-You are gonna make me late.
-l am not.
l gotta go.
-Oh, no, please?
-Get off.
l gotta go.
-Come on.
-No, l don't want you to. Please?
-Got to.
-No.
-Got to. Got to.
-No. No.
Oh, yeah.
You're beautiful.
GooD morning, Los Angeles.
It's 6.:30 a.m.
The temperature
is a cool 49 Degrees.
The traffic is alreaDy starting
to become heavy.
A shootout tool place
in South Compton last night...
... leaving a 26-year-olD male DeaD.
In a statement issueD
by the police...
... the shooting has been blameD
on the violence between two gangs...
...HyDe Parl
anD East SiDe Gangsters...
... who have been the focus
of the mayor's commitment.
-Come on.
-What's up, man?
Shit.
-Shut up. Stay still.
-l ain't did nothing.
Stay right there. Come on.
Get down.
Get down.
What the fuck?
All right.
Let's get out of here.
Hey, check it out.
Oh, shit.
All right, let's go.
All right, let's go.
Ron and Schrulner.
l always had my suspicions.
But who are you?
Come on.
Hello.
What, now?
This better be important.
l'll be there in 20.
-Damn it.
-What's wrong?
l gotta go get somebody.
-l'll be less than an hour.
-Dinner's almost ready.
l know, l know, l'll make it quick.
Promise.
-l guess l'll keep a plate warm for you.
-Thanks.
Come on, Gary, it's cold.
Linda's gonna have my ass.
Hello.
Hello.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
Max Ballister is a hero.
He gave his life in the line of duty
with courage and conviction.
His loss will forever
be remembered by everyone.
Simon, the police say
it was a random gang shooting.
They may never know who did it.
l won't accept that option, Simon.
Someone murdered Max.
Someone shot him in cold blood.
lf you come by the house,
l have copies of the police reports...
...they would release to me.
Along with Max's personal items.
-Yo.
-Hello.
Can l help you?
Sign says room for rent.
l have a few apartments
available upstairs.
This the kind of place
you're looking for?
Can l see the room?
Yeah.
Follow me.
So they're not exactly
the Four Seasons...
...but they're cheap,
and they rent by the week.
lt comes furnished.
Change your mind?
No, it's perfect.
All right. Well, l'm gonna need
the first week in advance.
Yeah, that's no problem.
Cop was killed not far from here
the other day.
Know anything about that?
Like l said,
this isn't the best neighbourhood.
-ln fact, it's getting worse by the week.
-Yeah.
That cop was my son.
Oh, l'm sorry.
How much you say l owe you?
One twenty-five.
By the way, l'm Simon Ballister.
l'm Alice Park.
-Nice to meet you.
-You too.
-Can l help you?
-This is my 'hood, penDejo.
You don't fucking belong here.
Really?
Listen, l got some personal stuff going
on that makes me have to be here...
...so why don't you take
your lively, chubby ass...
...and get the fuck off my car?
lt's my fucking 'hood.
l'm starting to get scared.
l'm starting to get scared.
Come on, rob me.
Kung fu this, motherfucker.
Tell every motherfucker
they're not safe...
...till l find the motherfucker
who killed my son.
You understand me?
Tell them. Tell them what l said.
l'm gonna get that guy.
How can l help you?
l'm Simon Ballister,
Max's father.
He was murdered last week...
...and l'd like to speak
with the officer in charge.
l'm sorry. Max was a good man.
Highly respected officer
in this department.
Detective Shaw is heading up his case.
l'll let him know you're here.
Simon Ballister,
Max's father, here to see you.
Thank you, send him in.
-Right back this way, Mr. Ballister.
-Thank you.
l know, l know,
that's what he told me.
Hello, Mr. Ballister.
l'm Detective Shaw.
Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
A little privacy please?
-Yeah.
-Please, have a seat.
Well, l didn't mean
to bother you or anything...
...but l just wanna see if there's
any updates, you know, intel...
...on my son's case.
-As l explained to your wife--
-You mean my ex-wife.
Ex-wife.
--the chances of finding
your son's killer are slim to none.
He was one of ours,
we don't take that lightly...
...but it looks like
it was a random gang shooting.
lt's kind of disappointing to see
that kind of confidence...
...from my son's own team,
you know?
l understand. Unfortunately,
the numbers worked against us.
Last year,
we had 487 homicides...
...almost half of which
were gang related.
Good news is, that's down 6 percent
from the year before.
Does that mean you have
no evidence whatsoever?
He was found in the street
next to his car.
A random shooting.
Killer probably never
stepped out of the car.
All we do have is the bullet,
which we recovered from him.
-What calibre was that?
-Forty.
Mr. Ballister, he was
a well-respected officer.
We were all very fond of him.
Listen, would you mind if l give you
a call now and again?
Not at all. Here's my card.
Did you ever get the chance
to meet my son?
No, wish l had.
Unfortunately,
our paths never crossed.
He worl eD Vice,
out of heaDquarters.
l've been assigned here
since l pinned on a badge.
-Here you go, sir.
-Thank you.
Thank you.
Pleasure meeting you.
Detective Shaw.
Hello?
-Holy shit, man.
-What's up, man?
What's up, man?
l came here looking for you.
That's it.
-For me?
-Yeah.
l ain't trying to rob no one, man.
Come on, man.
For real, man. l heard you was asking
questions, man. That's about it, man.
Come here.
Sit down. Sit down.
Man.
So, what's your name?
Gary, man. Gary Morrison.
What are you doing here?
l just came here to ask you
a couple questions.
l heard you was asking about Max.
Max Ballister.
Did you know my son?
l mean, l ran numbers,
Max, he worked Vice, so....
You know, times came,
l helped him out with a couple tips...
...on a few local joints in the area,
and things like that.
l got you. So you're a snitch.
Man, that's a rude term, man.
l was a Cl, all right?
l was a confidential informant.
ln other words, you're a snitch.
You a cop too?
Not exactly.
You Simon.
See, Max-- Yeah, man.
Max, he mentioned you couple times.
Hey, look, man,
l don't know you that well, man...
...but the East Side Gangsters,
they run this neighbourhood.
-ls that right?
-l mean, you stick around, like:
Like, they'll probably kill you.
Before all them bad things
happen to me...
...maybe you could tell me
where they are.
They stay over in the projects
on Florence.
-On Florence?
-lt's a closed construction site now...
...but that's where Max was shot.
Like l said, it ain't a good idea for you
to go nowhere near there.
l really don't care
what their business is.
l just want the motherfucker
that killed my son.
l understand, man.
Like l said, Max,
he was a good guy, man.
l mean.... l don't know,
l gots to go, man.
Hey, man, look,
l'm sorry about Max, man.
Yeah, me too.
So, what are you thinking?
-lt's Gary.
-Gary doesn't have the balls.
Think about it. Now, his brother lsaiah
is trying to work his way up.
Killing Max could have been
his ticket.
-Let's take him down, then.
-Timing's not right.
We'll take him down
when we take down Armand.
Knock, knock, nigga.
What the fuck's your bitch ass
doing off in here?
Looks like your luck just ran out.
You know what, man?
Luck is a funny motherfucking thing.
Oh, why's that?
Luck can change in the blink
of a motherfucking eye.
You're a badass white boy, huh?
Think you bad, huh?
Come on, motherfucker. You--
Motherfucker, you wanna tell me
who killed my son?
Man, l don't know shit.
You don't know shit, huh?
-Who killed my son?
-Nigga, fuck you.
l'm gonna be doing
the fucking now.
-Man, fuck y'all.
-What'd you say?
Fuck you. l don't know shit.
Shit! Man, in my fucking ear.
-Fuck. l'm gonna smoke your ass.
-l'm gonna ask you one more time.
Hey, all right, look.
l'll get you some knowledge, all right?
-Shot my fucking ear off.
-Who killed my son?
-lt wasn't who you think it is, all right?
-lt ain't who l think? What's that mean?
-Nigga, it wasn't us.
-Shit. You motherfucker...
...l'm gonna get your ass.
Bitch, you're dead, bitch.
l got nothing but time for you.
Don't forget that.
You shot my fucking ear.
Oh, fuck.
l'm gonna get your fucking ass.
Oh, shit.
Benny, what's your problem?
Armand, why are we playing
these games?
Well, Benny, l like games.
l've got a game we can play.
lt's got one question:
Why are you a snitch?
-No, l'm not a snitch.
-That ain't what l heard.
You should be working for CNN
the way you put my business out.
Armand, look at what l gave you.
There's a major deal
going down...
...and l risked my life to bring you
this information because l respect you.
Because l wanna do business
with you.
l wanna do business
with you too, Benny.
-Let me cut this cheque for you.
-Thank you.
You should know
nigga's cheque's gonna bounce.
What the fuck are you doing?
Oh, my bad.
l didn't like the way he smelled.
All right, look.
l've got most of the information
on the deal he was brokering.
-l'll keep you informed.
-Oh, the fuck you will.
You let me know when and where,
me and my boys will be there.
Like l said,
l will keep you informed.
What the hell
happened to you two?
Man, some big-ass white boy
jumped us.
A white boy.
-What?
-Nigga, are you deaf?
Yeah, man. That nigga is.
Look, some big-ass white boy...
...as in Paul Bunyan motherfucker,
came out of nowhere up in the spot...
...did some kung fu shit
on my little homey and me...
...grabbed that nigga's gun
and shot his ear.
-Nigga, please.
-What?
Hey, take it easy, all right?
Just put the gun down. Relax.
Where's Maurice and Anthony?
Man, them niggas gone, man.
He smoked both them fools.
-One dude?
-Yeah.
One dude smoked
two of my motherfuckers?
What are y'all, bitches?
Do l have to buy y'all dresses?
You niggas want miniskirts, tutus?
Dip your motherfucking ass in olive oil
and put you in roller skates, bitch?
Dude said his name
was like Ballister...
-...or Bollister or some shit--
-Ballister did this to you?
Yeah, that's that nigga, right.
Yeah, Ballister.
Fuck. The guy
l was telling you about.
You knew this motherfucker
was gonna do shit like this?
l got a lot of money
on this deal, partner.
Ain't got time for this bullshit.
-Clean that motherfucker up.
-Come on, man.
Yeah, l can see
what you're thinking, Benny.
You had deceit on your mind.
Think you're gonna take
a brother down?
Remember Scarface,
motherfucker?
'' Look at you now.
Look at you now, you fuck.''
So it must feel good
to be able to put to use...
...those lessons
you learned in the military.
Yeah, well, l really wasn't
in the military.
You're not a salesman, Simon.
And you're not a cop. And someone
taught you how to fight like that.
No, no, no. All the fighting stuff,
l got that off home videos.
Whatever.
-Listen, could l ask you a question?
-Shoot.
Those bangers that were here,
what gang are they with?
Hyde Park.
They're Chivo's boys.
Chivo had something to do
with your son's murder?
l'll let you know.
-Hello.
-Hello, this is Simon.
Simon? Yeah....
Yeah, Max spoke very fondly
about you.
l saw you at the funeral.
l wanted to come over
and pay my condolences...
...but l just wasn't quite
in the mood, sorry.
l understand.
l wanted to see if the police
had been by to interview you...
...and whether or not they returned
any of Max's property, or....
They were more interested
in any files or paperwork...
...that he might have
brought home.
Did Max have anything
on a computer, by any chance?
Yeah, but the police took it.
Well, listen,
l just want you to know one thing.
l will find who did this to my son.
And if you need anything,
you call me, you hear?
All right, babe.
-Shoot it.
-Defence.
Come on, man,
Don't let them score again.
Man.
Pass the ball, man.
Make some shots, l could dish it
to you. You playing with no D on it.
They done got three points, man.
lt's 9-7. You wanna win this or what?
-You crazy?
-We need to talk.
Look around you, fool.
You see all those eyes on us?
Any of them see me get in that car,
l'm dead. You feel me?
Well, look, l'll just pretend like
l'm a policeman. You know?
You ain't no cop,
that's for sure, man.
Heard what happened
to them boys.
News in the 'hood travels fast,
don't it, now?
Look, man, l need your help.
-What's up, partner?
-lt's good, homes.
What kind of help?
l need you to help me find
who killed my son.
Ain't no way nobody ever gonna find
his killer, man, that's for damn sure.
You have to tell me what you know.
What you gonna do
if you find the shooter, huh?
l'm gonna kill him.
l don't care who ordered the hit.
l don't care
whose business is what.
l just wanna know
who killed my son.
lt's not looking good for me, man.
Get in the car.
All right, showtime.
What do you know?
Man, look, man, there's this Mexican
called El Chivo, all right?
-The goat?
-Yeah.
He runs the Hyde Park Gang.
Them motherfuckers there.
You think this guy
might have pulled the trigger?
Maybe.
l mean, maybe he had
somebody pull a drive-by.
Well, like l said, l don't really care
about who ordered it or anything.
l just want the shooter.
Well, if it came from Chivo,
he would know who did it.
You have any idea
why he might want my son dead?
Max, man.... Look, he hit
them bookie joints hard, man.
Chivo, he runs most of them.
You know how it is, man.
You start fucking with a man's money,
you could end up dead.
Where can l find this guy?
He got a club on Slauson
called Anodyne, all right?
He's there most nights.
All right, you did good, man.
l'll see you soon, you hear?
Thank you.
Yeah, man. Right.
Hey, Gary.
This yours?
What the fuck 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 shit.
All right.
Don't fucking worry about it,
all right?
Hey, lsaiah, what up, man?
-The fuck was that about?
-Nothing.
Don't fucking 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 shit, yo?
Man, does a chicken have lips?
-Shut up.
-Like l give a fuck.
-Come on, man.
-All right, yo. Listen.
You stay the fuck away from him,
feel me?
-He came looking for me.
-l don't give a fuck.
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 fuck 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 fuck--?
-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 shit 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 motherfucker who killed him.
Tough guy.
See, the problem is--
-Excuse me. l really need to talk--
-Get the fuck out of here.
Doing that to my homeboy,
the problem is, l ain't him--
You mean motherfucker.
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 fuck does Armand
want this nigga dead anyway?
Doesn't matter.
Let's smoke this fool.
We do this and we in.
Bread, bitches and cocaine.
-You need to stop that snorting shit.
-Man, nigga, fuck you.
-Let's smoke this fool.
-Don't fuck up my car, hell.
Say good night, motherfucker.
Goddamn,
l can't believe you missed.
-Back this motherfucker up. Let's go.
-Goddamn, motherfucker. God, shit.
-Motherfucker.
-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. Shit.
Fuck!
Look at your dumb ass
missing and shit.
-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, bitch! Jack it up.
Come on, come on.
Buck again, buck again.
Unload on his ass.
What the fuck?
Nice driving, motherfucker.
lt ain't me. This motherfucker
is all over the road.
How the fuck
is it the car's fault?
-How come it ain't you?
-Fuck.
-God, where the fuck is he going?
-Just drive my motherfucking car.
Yeah.
l can't see shit.
-l see him.
-Goddamn. Fuck.
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, motherfucker.
Here we go, we got his ass now.
We got him now. Yeah, right here.
-Come on. Come on.
-Shit.
-This motherfucker'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 fuck?
-This motherfucker is crazy as hell.
-Ram his ass.
Go!
What the fuck? Oh, shit.
Who sent you?
Fuck you.
Fuck.
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
in over 30 lillings in the past year.
Racl eteering,
Drug running, murDer.
ArmanD Tucl er, no convictions.
-Yeah?
-Yeah, Simon Ballister.
-Hi.
-What Do you want?
Listen, l need
that package right away.
All right, where are you?
lt's 1 001 North Central.
-L.A. ?
-That's right.
You know, the only part they didn't
have in Scarface was him fucking.
Tweedledee and Tweedle-dumbass,
you don't know--
-Hold on, man. Hold on.
-''Say hello to my little friend.''
You understand me?
He'd just hold a gun to the bitch.
-Be like, nigga, suck it.
-Armand?
Let y'all snort some cocaine
off this motherfucker.
-Excuse me, boss?
-Motherfucker!
Can't you see
l'm doing something?
-Excuse me, boss--
-Why the fuck you gonna interrupt me?
-Sorry, boss.
-You females go on and go upstairs--
-Reggie B. and lsaiah--
-Nigga, hold the fuck up.
-All right, all right.
-You ladies go back to the room...
...get it cracking without me,
you understand me?
l'll be in in a minute.
And feel free
to try them little things out.
You know what l'm saying?
l got some toys back there.
Yeah, it's Christmas.
-You like that, huh?
-Hell, yeah.
You could have that on the regular
if you handle your business.
l'm disappointed in both of y'all.
Especially you, lsaiah.
You hold your bitch ass up
right there, partner.
Take that motherfucking rag off
around your bitch-ass neck.
You ain't repping shit.
Look at the ground.
Look at the floor.
Don't even look at me, nigga.
Boy, l put trust in you.
l put trust in you, boy.
l put trust in you,
but you wanna fuck up.
You know l don't ask people
for many things, man.
Most of what l accomplish,
l accomplish myself.
Everything l accomplish,
l accomplish my damn self...
...because l ain't gonna never
snitch on me, nigga.
l asked you to do this
to prove yourself...
...and you drop the ball, coz.
-Yo, man, this Simon--
-Silence, nigga.
Look, l know
this motherfucker tough.
That's why l gave you this assignment.
lt's a chance to prove yourself.
Now, if you prove yourself,
we got a thing called trust.
Trust go a long way
in this organisation.
You understand me?
-You understand me?
-Yes, sir.
Good, because
if you don't do this correctly, partner...
...we ain't friends.
Matter of fact, we enemies.
You, your family, your mama...
...that pregnant bitch
you got around the corner, nigga.
Yeah. You wanna see
that child, nigga?
Because l don't give a fuck
about the little motherfucker.
Why don't you do yourself
a motherfucking favour...
...and go kill that son of a bitch?
Keep your head up, coz.
And this time, make sure
he lay down and stay there.
They don't make niggas
like they used to.
These little motherfuckers running
around here, krump dancing and shit.
One motherfucking white boy.
How the fuck my whole motherfucking
clique bruised the fuck up?
What kind of steroids this
motherfucker on? This is my shit here.
He wanna run his little white ass
around here like he renegade.
Matter of fact-- Hey, you bitches,
get your ass up out of here.
Your skeleton-ass, motherfucking
drug-addict ho's snorting up my shit.
The fuck
out of my goddamn house.
Kill the bitch in a week,
goddamn it.
-Morning.
-Morning.
Special delivery
for Simon Ballister.
-Upstairs, apartment A.
-Great. Thank you.
No problem.
You ain't gonna score again,
l'm telling you.
You ain't gonna score.
l ain't gonna let you.
l ain't gonna let you.
Can't let you score.
Can't let you score.
Finally got the ball.
You can't guard me.
l'm about to pop
that shit right here.
You don't even know
when l'm coming, do you? Do you?
Patience, baby.
Yo, l quit, man.
You're good, y'all. l'll get out.
l'm tired. You be playing
too much defence.
Play lsaiah.
Bet he won't be
doing all that then.
Good game, though.
Good game.
Take care.
Why?
Check out the guy over here.
Got the Lone Ranger over here.
Shit.
Let's go, guys.
Let's have a little fun. Let's go.
-Take cover.
-Run, nigger, run, boy. Run.
Come on.
Run his fucking ass down.
Come on.
You're going nowhere.
Get him. Get him.
Shit.
Yeah. Yeah.
Hey, hey.
Where you going, nigger?
Alone in the 'hood?
Maybe me and my boys will give you
a little bit of hospitality, huh?
You ain't going nowhere, man.
-He's scared.
-We're gonna have fun.
-What you got in your bag, huh?
-We're gonna work you over real good.
Were you lost?
Keep moving, white boy.
You stupid motherfucker.
-Didn't you hear me, white boy?
-Got your back, brother.
Who you calling white boy,
mother--?
Hey.
Bad motherfucker.
Gary. Let's go.
Been an accident at Bellevue.
We need an ambulance.
Don't make fun of my ride.
lt's a rental.
Damn. Hope you got insurance.
Man, that was some crazy shit.
Where the fuck
you learn that shit, man?
Yo, l bet he never had
an ass-whupping like that before. Shit.
-Can l ask you something?
-Anything, man.
Why'd you lie to me
about Chivo?
-What you talking about?
-See, l think you're trying to play me.
Look, fool,
l ain't never said he did it, man.
l told you what the word
on the street was.
Chivo didn't have nothing
to do with Max.
-What, you asked him or something?
-That's right, l asked him.
He told you
he ain't have shit to do with it?
That's right.
-And you knew he wasn't lying?
-That's right.
-But l am?
-That's right.
Man, fuck you, man.
l'm leaving, man.
Would you like me to stop the car
so you don't land on your head?
Shit.
How's your brother?
Did he have a little accident
last night?
Man, how the fuck
you know about that, man?
Because l caused the accident, see?
He tried to ambush me last night.
Brother with the East Side boys?
ls that it?
Who's Armand Tucker?
Hey, did your brother
kill my son?
You ain't got nothing to say?
All right.
You protecting your brother?
l'm leaving, man.
Hey, Gary.
My backpack, man.
Good rocks, it's gonna cost you.
-Yo.
-Hey, lsaiah.
Hey, you gonna
pick me up, man?
-Do you got my money?
-You all right? What happened?
Man, just some skinheads
tripping, man.
l'll be there
as soon as l can, all right?
Taking care of some business
for Armand.
Yo, man.
Hey, you gotta stop that shit, dog.
-What?
-No, no, no. l was talking to Reggie.
Stupid-ass motherfucker.
Yo, man, let's go, dog.
Look, man, l really need
to speak to you, man, for real.
l got some shit to run by you.
Hey, l'm on my way,
all right? One.
You anD your brother heaD bacl,
l eep an eye on my place.
EveryboDy else, remember,
this is for big bucls, no fuclups.
All right, gentlemen, here we go.
Keep your voice down.
Gentlemen, take it up front.
You got my goods, huh?
lt's all there.
Two hundred birds, baby.
All right.
-You counted it?
-Yeah.
-You say it's good?
-We got the car.
-Where's the money at?
-What's up? Right here, baby.
We should rush
these motherfuckers.
The deal was you do
what l say, remember?
Don't double-cross me. l'm the one
that put you on to these fools.
Just sit back and watch.
Who knows,
you might just learn something.
Handle your business, partner.
-lt's all there.
-Looking kind of light though.
-lt's all there.
-Count the stuff. lt's all there.
Let's make it happen.
lf you don't believe it,
just count. Count the cash.
Yeah, it is.
Money's yours.
-Shred them.
-Look at the bottom.
We good, man. We good.
-Dope is ours, money is ours.
-Take the shot.
-Let's do it.
-Yes, brother.
Motherfucker set us up.
Well?
Nice classroom.
-Rasheed, get the car.
-Let's go.
Nice shot, pal. Bring it on down.
Where are we?
lt's all here. What do you got?
-Looks like about 200 keys.
-About 3 million cash.
Take them wheels right there.
You two load up in that one.
Follow me.
-Get in, gentlemen.
-Let's go.
Let's move. Now, now, now.
Meet you out front.
Let's go. Move it.
Just dump it in. Let's go.
-Merry fucking Christmas.
-Man, fuck Santa Claus.
He never got me shit.
That's why l sell dope.
All right, listen up.
Now, take that yeyo down below.
After you done with that,
take this SUV to the chop shop...
-...put it in pieces and crush it.
-Keep your eyes open.
-Can't believe we pulled this shit off.
-You couldn't have done it without us.
Now, that money doesn't move
until we broker the dope.
Man, you know what your problem is?
You worry too much.
Once we ship this shit east, man,
we all gonna get paid.
All right. l'm posting men outside,
make sure nothing comes or goes.
Good looking out.
Five million in cocaine and cash.
Any idea how much we could make
if we step on it two or three times?
-Yeah, l do.
-l'm talking helicopter, Bill Gates.
-Helicopter.
-l always wanted one, man.
That way l can get a bird's-eye view
of my territory.
l can watch the little soldiers
slanging and banging.
ln case a little motherfucker fuck up,
l can come in, Vietnam Rambo style.
You know, right out
the side of that bitch:
Drop, bitch!
-Yeah. You've been to Nam?
-Been to Nam? You been to Compton?
Vietnam ain't got shit
on the motherfucker CPT, coz.
Ballister is making you look bad.
What's it gonna take?
Plastic surgery. Don't worry.
We got a special delivery for his ass.
Yeah, you better.
lt's that nigga right there.
Yo, call him.
Hey, Armand?
Yeah, he here. Just pulled up.
Hey, youngster,
some real shit gonna go on here.
Keep your mouth shut, okay?
-All right?
-All right.
There has been so much going on
around here, Simon.
You have to give me something.
Yeah, man. Make it happen, man.
Going up there and do this thing.
-Got your ass now, motherfucker.
-Hey, coz.
Get strapped up, baby.
Hey, man,
we gotta make it happen, man.
l ain't playing with you.
You know you did
the right thing, right?
-Yes, sir.
-We'll show you how to put work in.
Get over there right now
and get down. We got company.
-Who's out there?
-East Side Gang.
-Oh, God, what are we gonna do?
-Follow me and stay low.
Get down.
Go to the back,
go to the back.
Gotta find him.
Get up.
Oh, shit, man.
Watch out.
Superman.
Have some of this kryptonite.
Stay down, stay down. Okay.
Okay, l gotta do this.
Jesus.
You can do this.
Okay, okay, okay.
Let that motherfucker
have it, man.
Come on.
You ever had
some crazy nigga, bitch?
Go get the motherfucking car.
Get the car.
You like dim sum, bitch?
Well, you can have some,
and that bitch-ass white boy you with.
You and the punk-ass
motherfucker you with.
Get in, get in.
Drive, motherfucker. Drive.
Simon? The cops are coming.
The cops are coming.
No, look at me, Simon.
Stay with me, Simon.
-Wal e up.
-ReaDy.
-Wal e up, Simon.
-Aim.
Fire. Ready.
l swear on my dead mother's grave,
they did it.
Someone murDereD Max.
-lt wasn't who you think it is, all right?
-Someone shot him in colD blooD.
The chances of finDing
your son's liller are slim to none.
Please....
Wal e up, Simon.
Wal e up, Simon.
Wake up, Simon.
No, Simon, let go.
That's my cousin Winston.
Simon, Simon, stop.
That's my cousin, let him go.
-Damn.
-Sorry, man.
You probably
just reopened that wound.
Don't worry, man. l'm all right.
He's a nurse
at USC Medical Center.
This is what he specializes in,
Simon.
You need to take it easy
on those stitches, dog.
They're gonna hold. lt's fine.
l'm gonna have to look
or it's gonna get infected.
l don't have time for that.
l've got to go.
Yo, man, what the fuck
you doing in my house?
l'm looking for this.
Oh, lookie here, look what l found.
Does this look familiar?
Gun don't look familiar.
l don't know where you got it.
-What, did you kill my son with this?
-We didn't do that shit.
You been running around
fucking up everybody over this.
-No, man, we didn't do that hit, dog.
-You killed my son with this, didn't you?
And you just fucked up
by dropping your gun.
Yeah, smoke that nigga this time.
Don't miss.
You done fucked up
by being a dumb motherfucker too.
The fuck? lsaiah.
-Man, look, man.
-What the fuck?
-You play me?
-Fuck, man.
What is this?
Go ahead, play me some more.
Man, l didn't even do shit.
l ain't playing you.
Fuck, man. lsaiah.
He fine, he fine. He all right.
Who did my son?
You played me.
You lied to me about Chivo,
you sent me down the wrong road.
-What are you hiding?
-lt was that dirty cop, Shaw...
...who killed Max, man.
When l was--
When l was hanging with lsaiah...
...l overheard a conversation
between Shaw and Armand.
They was talking about
how they gonna eliminate Max, man.
Why?
l told you, man.
Max, he was a nice guy.
l tried to warn him, man.
l went there that night.
l was just too late.
Too fucking late.
Fuck, l saw it all happen.
Shaw just shot him.
Fucking shot him.
Wiped the gun down,
threw it over a fence.
l hopped that fence, man.
l grabbed the gun, l fucking ran.
l fuck-- l ran. l ran.
l ran, man,
until l ain't hear fucking shit.
No siren, nothing.
l sure enough wish you would have
told me that a long time ago.
l did not come to this town
to get played.
l wanted to come here
and take care of one thing.
l'm gonna go see Shaw.
-l hope you're not lying.
-l'm sorry, man.
l'm sorry.
They were gonna kill my family!
Fucking family.
This is an H&K G36.
lt's a bad machine gun, man.
-This is revenge.
-Yeah, that's what it is, revenge.
What the fuck you think it is?
-Why?
-Because they killed my son.
-Simon, this is never going to end.
-l don't really give a fuck what they do.
l just know what l'm gonna do.
-You're just as bad as they are.
-No, l'm a lot fucking worse.
-These guys for real?
-For sure.
Say, man,
l don't trust this motherfucker.
You gotta watch them.
These motherfuckers get out of line,
we gonna take them out, all right?
Yeah, it's about that time, nigga.
-What's up, coz?
-Armand.
What's up with the white boys?
Hey, man, what can l say?
Affirmative action, you know.
l wouldn't touch that
till l see some money.
Come on.
Check that out, Shaw.
Yeah, we're good.
Just like l promised.
-You playing me, motherfucker?
-Say what, nigga?
Who the fuck
do you think you dealing with?
-Nigga, what's your problem?
-What's my problem?
l'll tell you what my problem is.
That's fucking baking soda, bitch.
lt is baking soda.
l should have known better than to
deal with low-level West Coast hood.
Fuck the West Coast, nigga.
Get my money
and let's get the fuck out of here.
Fuck's going on?
Somebody answer me.
What's going on?
-That motherfucker Ballister.
-Fucking son of a bitch.
Ballister? What does that mean?
Hey, man, why don't you do yourself
and me a favour, all right?
Shut the fuck up.
Now, l know my original plan
didn't go as planned...
-...but l got a contingency.
-Contingency plan?
Bitch, what the fuck
is your contingency plan?
Just let me look over
the paperwork, partner.
That's the motherfucking
contingency plan, partner.
-You motherfuckers.
-Yeah, fuck you, bitch.
Look at your whore ass now.
Dressed like a motherfucking
tampon, nigga, what?
That's the problem with you
New York niggas.
Running around,
all shiny and shit.
You dressed for the funeral
you about to have, motherfucker.
-You gonna kill me?
-Oh, l think it's obvious, partner.
Look around.
You already fucked up, Armand,
by double-crossing me.
-Don't make this shit any worse.
-Let's see, how could it get worse?
Look like your boys is dead.
Yeah, you dead already.
You kill me, my homeboys
are gonna retaliate.
Believe me, motherfucker,
they won't stop until your ass is dead.
How the fuck
a dead motherfucker...
...gonna retaliate,
you stupid son of a bitch?
A dead man can't walk.
You already dead, see?
You got killed by the L.A.P.D.
in a motherfucking shootout.
Process that, nigga. Can your neuron
fire that fast, motherfucker?
Yeah, that's what happened.
L.A.P.D. shot your bitch ass.
Happens all the time.
Ain't that right, Shaw?
Yeah, that's right.
-l got the stairs. You take the front.
-Got it.
Fuck.
Come on, Ballister.
Come on out here, you big fuck.
Let's go. You and me, brother.
l'm talking to you!
Hey!
Come on, you stupid fuck,
answer me.
Pussy. Come on, baby.
l'm waiting.
You're gonna make me
come to you, huh?
Where are you, sensei?
Obi-Wan.
Fuck.
Kill this motherfucker.
Kill him. Kill him.
Kill him.
Kill him.
l gotta hand it to you, partner.
You're quite the father. Come back
and run through the neighbourhood.
Killing up all kind of niggas
and Mexicans.
Just a white boy on a rampage.
But we still got this little dilemma,
now, do we not?
l know you ain't dumb enough
to bring a fist to a gunfight.
l am.
You probably think
l'm gonna kill you.
But you know what?
l came here for one thing.
And l did what l came here to do.
l got no beef with you.
He's a cool motherfucker.
Now, that shit was gangster.