Night Court (1984) s01e03 Episode Script

Hey, hey, hey! Judge! Any disembowelments tonight? Not that I know of, no.
Mutilation murders? Bizarre suicides? Nothing good on TV tonight, huh, Mr? - Craven.
Al Craven.
- Yeah.
With the Gazette.
I did that big front-page story last week on the lady who fricasseed the poodle.
- AI Craven, the journalist.
- Yeah.
You know, I really like it here in court.
There's always a never-ending supply of human misery in a place like this.
- Yeah.
Most people don't see the fun side of pain and suffering.
Right.
See you.
Cute kid, the judge.
Well, we think so, but he's not exactly a kid.
- Is this seat taken? - Yes.
Thank you.
He doesn't even look old enough to use a razor.
Oh, and speaking of razors, you would be revolted at what I've seen a razor do to the human body.
Be that as it may, Judge Stone is older than you think.
Well, how old is he? Well, he's I don't know.
How old do you think he is, Dan? I don't know.
It's one of those things I never think about like "Is Pinky Lee still alive?" I'm sure you gotta be a minimum age to be a judge.
No, you have to have been practicing law for at least 10 years.
- I think he's about - Say, here's a novel approach: - Why don't we ask him.
Judge Stone.
- Yo.
We were just talking, and we're a little curious.
What is your age? Oh, I'm a little over 900 years old.
That's what a spiritualist once told me, anyway.
Seems I have this very old soul.
The first couple hundred years are sort of a blur.
- I know how you feel.
- Yeah.
- Bye.
- See you.
- Colorful guy.
- I'm telling you he has a few pages stuck together.
Wanna talk crazy? You read the piece I did about the guy who went berserk and turned his loved ones into lunchmeat? Well, you'll have to excuse me.
All this lunch talk is making me hungry.
I guess the judge is in his 20s.
I say he's close to 40.
In dog years, maybe.
- I'll bet you 5 he's 28.
- You're on.
- You got a bet.
- You're both acting selfish.
Why don't we get a pool together so we can all play.
- Hey, now, that sounds good to me.
- Excuse me.
How are you gonna determine the winner if he won't tell his age.
There's gotta be ways to find out.
We could saw him in half and count the rings.
No.
Hey, it's gotta be a matter of public record like civil service forms or whatever, right, Lana? - Yeah.
- Easily, Lana.
Oh, I suppose I could call downtown and get a look at his personnel file.
It's settled.
I'll make up the sign-up sheet and we'll pick the ages we want.
- I'm in.
- Good.
- I don't know.
- Oh, it'll be fun.
I feel like we're prying.
That's the fun part.
I really don't understand society's preoccupation with age in the first place.
I mean, you're only as old as you feel, right, Selma? That's vicious.
Thank you.
- What's this? - The pool to guess Harry's age.
- Oh, yeah.
- Now, there are still some good ages left so just put your initials in any empty square.
Don't press so hard.
You crushed my nib.
Sorry.
Keep it.
- What's next? - Next we have a rather unusual case.
- What's the problem? - She's a slut.
- He's an animal.
- Off the top of my head, marital problems? Not quite, Your Honor.
They never finished the ceremony.
Ronald McKenzie, charged with destruction of church property and disorderly conduct in a house of worship.
- Kind of pushing your luck, aren't you? - Okay, so I got a little carried away.
A little? He knocked the candelabras over, smashed the flowers and destroyed the pulpit with his bare hands.
Second thoughts, Mr.
McKenzie? I went out of my mind.
Suppose on your wedding day you saw your wife in the nude.
I think I'll probably insist on it.
My client was provoked, Your Honor, pure and simple.
You see, some jokers in the pews were circulating naked photographs of the bride so naturally Mr.
McKenzie wasn't too pleased when his bride came down the aisle to the sounds of stomping and whistling and shouts of "Hey, mama.
Hey, mama.
You make me feel so good, mama.
" "Groom Tortured by Bride in the Buff.
" How's that for a headline? Great.
How's that for a cold sore? In the line of duty, Miss Williams, do you have those pictures? Not in my possession, Your Honor, but I believe you'll find the prosecution thumbing the evidence over there.
- Mr.
Fielding.
- What? Yes.
Your Honor I have no objection to the entrance into evidence the April, 1980 issue of Stud magazine bringing special attention to pages 53, 54 and 54a.
- Your Honor, I object.
- Oh, I don't mind.
Lana.
The guy from records retrieval is here.
I got the file on Harold Stone.
Wait a minute.
This is sealed.
Why would his personnel record be sealed? - Oh, you wanted his personnel record? - Yes.
What's this? His criminal record.
Criminal record? As far as anyone else is concerned, I don't know anything about this.
- Okay, I'll tell him.
- No.
No.
Wait.
Yeah.
Maybe we better have a legal opinion.
Why don't you tell Dan.
But be discreet.
I'm 6'8", 240, and I got no hair.
- Do your best.
- Yeah.
See what I mean, Your Honor? Isn't it sickening? I didn't know you when those were taken.
I did it because I really needed the money.
Things were tough for me then.
- I had no job.
I was hungry.
- Looks like you were cold too.
Oh, no kidding? Something you'd like to share, Mr.
Fielding? No, no.
Your Honor, the caseload may get backed up if we don't Get off the pot? Got it.
Mr.
McKenzie, do you have anything else to say in your defense? Just that you can hardly blame me, Your Honor.
What kind of guy wants his entire bowling team to know what his wife's goodies look like? "Goodies"? It's a collective slang term representing five separate portions of the female anatomy.
Five? One, two Mr.
McKenzie, I do understand how you feel but the fact remains that the lady is not the one who's on trial here.
Whether or not she should have posed in the nude is not the point.
Yeah? Well, the point is that I wanted you all to myself, Vickie.
To me, your body is sacred.
At least we agree on something.
Look, maybe I'm not too proud of those photos, okay? Maybe I was stupid to do it, but it doesn't mean that I'm a bad person, does it? No, of course not.
Hey, stuff it, rock face! - Mr.
McKenzie! - Oh, now you shut up too for a minute! Ronald, stop it! You can't go around telling people to shut up.
- They won't like you.
- Everybody, shut up.
I've been standing here looking at nude pictures of my fiancée! All right! How about all you folks go out, take a break and breathe into a paper bag, huh? Ten minute recess.
Okay, let's open this baby up, huh? - I don't know what you're talking about.
- Sweetheart, I tipped the courier to find out what he gave you.
- You are really compost.
You know that? - Hey.
I mean, garbage, slime, swill.
I have been called it all.
How about maggot sandwich? Jackie O.
, Studio 54.
- Go away, Craven.
- Listen, I know I'm gonna get that file even if I have to resort to legal means.
Come on, sweetheart.
Open up the file.
There is no way you're getting your slime-soaked hooks on the judge's record.
- "Slime-soaked hooks"? Look, it's probably just a youthful offender thing if the file is sealed.
From a legal standpoint, a juvenile file doesn't even exist.
It can only be opened by an officer of the court.
- Like her.
- Out.
- Maybe just a tiny peek.
- Little, huh? - No.
- Oh, come on, sweetheart.
- I'm not your sweetheart.
- You're dying to know what Judge Stone is hiding just as much as the rest of us.
- Who says he's hiding anything? - Hey everybody's got something to hide, lady.
That's what makes this country great.
- Would you just get out of here?! - No.
Not until I have that file.
Here.
Give You are not getting it now.
I've been in worse places.
Shocking, isn't it? Yes.
So, what do you think? Frankly, Judge Stone, I'm floored.
Yeah.
The groom seemed a bit surprised by it too.
- What? - What I can't stop thinking is what kind of sick mind would dredge up somebody's past like that? I mean, bringing those photos to the wedding Gee, come on! Whatever happened to toaster ovens and blenders? Harry, if you have anything else to tell us I want you to know I'll understand.
No.
I'm finished, but thanks for being there.
I believe what the lady is referring to is a certain skeleton in your closet.
Craven, I see your lips moving, but I don't hear anything.
How's this for a headline: "The Hoodlum Judge.
" Gonna make a great story.
What's he talking about? Well, Your Honor, he seems to have gotten this silly notion that you have a criminal record.
- How did you find out about that? - Oh, I'll never tell.
A good newsman always protects his sources.
Right, sweetheart? It was completely inadvertent.
I had no idea I'd come across this file when I was trying to track down I mean - Some other - Where's the file now? Harry, you have to believe me that I had no idea I'd find this.
- Well, what else you got in there? - Nothing! I mean, nothing I'd wanna go public with.
Okay, what was it, judge? What did they put you away for? Nothing I wanna go public with.
One way or another, I'm gonna find out what you did and print it.
Now, I might go a little easy on you if you cooperate.
- Let me put it this way: Get out.
- Okay, I'll start with "no comment.
" I mean, it sounds dry, but it's very incriminating, and Harry, I had no idea how damaging - I feel awful.
- Lana, forget it.
- It was bound to come out sooner or later.
- No, not forget it.
This is terrible! - Lana, please! - Really.
And it's all my fault.
You know, I could just kill myself.
I really could.
I could just rip out my tongue with my own hands.
I could just slit my own throat.
I could just Lana, can we have an end to the bloodshed, please? Look, so Craven prints it.
Now, what's the worst that can happen? Well, I'd be publicly disgraced making it impossible for me to continue to function effectively as a judge.
I'd have to step down.
Right, but you've still got your health.
I'm sorry.
I've never tried to cheer up anybody before.
- All rise.
- Don't bother getting up.
We're not starting yet.
As some of you already know I was once in jail.
- Harry, don't do this.
I mention that only because it seems germane to this case.
However Miss Guyer feels about having posed nude, it's done.
It's a fact that can't be changed.
And it's the same with what I did.
- What did you do? - I'm getting to that.
Just a second, judge.
I wanna take a few notes.
Okay, Craven.
Get your pen out.
You ready? I knocked over a liquor store.
- You committed armed robbery? - No.
I knocked over a liquor store.
The front part of it, anyway, with a '64 Cadillac convertible.
- I owned one of those once.
- Did you? I didn't.
- You mean you stole the car? - Impulsive, huh? But I was a teenager then.
All I meant to do was drive around the block a couple of times and take it back but my foot slipped off the brake pedal, and Correct.
I only spent two nights in jail and a couple of weeks in the reformatory but it affected me for the rest of my life.
- Being in jail? - No.
Being in the path of my father's stare.
Believe me, in 20 minutes, I spent my time in hell.
It was a courtroom like this, and he sat right there.
You would have thought he could have blinked or something.
He could have reached out and slapped me or yelled at me or beat me, but damn it, he just sat there and looked at me.
And then when it was all over all he said was: "You disappointed me, Harold.
" When a boy loves his father he would rather get knocked across the head with a two-by-four than hear that kind of stuff.
Well, anyway not too long after that, he just sort of died.
It always kind of bugged me, you know.
That he never found out that I hadn't made a habit out of stealing cars.
Let the record show that I convened court I found the defendant, Ronald McKenzie, guilty as charged asked him to pay restitution and gave him a 10-day suspended sentence.
And then I called a recess.
Harry? Harry? Harry? Harry.
My God.
- I thought you were - What? Resting comfortably? - Are you all right? - Yeah, I'm fine.
I just had a little attack of the past, you know? Maybe it's just time I learned that I can't change it.
"Things that are done, it is needless to speak about.
Things that are past, it is needless to blame.
" Confucius? Probably.
In any case, it's the longest message I ever read in a fortune cookie.
It's okay.
- Anybody home? - This isn't what you were thinking.
I mean, I'm engaged.
No, we just thought you were comforting a friend.
Then it was.
I mean, what you were thinking.
- Your Honor, are you all right? - We were worried about you.
I'm fine.
Thank you all very much for being concerned, really.
Knock, knock.
Look what the cat dragged in.
I thought I'd save somebody the trouble of saying it.
You back for more dirt, Craven? What, that car stuff? Are you crazy? "Joyriding Judge"? What the hell is that? I can't print that.
I mean, that's nothing.
Now, take the piece I did on the deranged men's room attendant in Queens.
No.
You take it and I'm way ahead of you.
Hello.
Oh, look.
It's my favorite pair.
What can we do for you kids? Well, I hate to bother you again, judge, but could you marry us? - It's on again, huh? You made me realize that if you've got a chance at something, well who knows, it may be your last, right? Gee, Ronnie, I never heard you talk that way before.
- It excites me.
- I know how you feel.
So, what do you say, judge? Sure.
Make an appointment with Miss Wagner No, you see, the suit has to be back in the morning.
You mean? - Sure! What the heck? Why not? - Oh, my God.
We're having a wedding.
- Now? Surely you don't intend - I think all we need is a marriage license.
Here you go, sir.
Dan, Liz, come on over here.
You'll be the witnesses.
That's really a lovely thought, but I think maybe - Here.
You stand over here.
- I don't think this is the time.
We're ready now.
Fine.
You stop following me around.
I just wanna get to know you better.
Here's all you need to know.
I'm armed.
- What's doing? - These two are getting married.
Oh, which is the bride's side? - Over there.
- Thank you.
- Forgetting something? - What's this? The text of the ceremony.
"Dearly beloved" Let's just let her rip.
Vickie you really love this little hothead, don't you? - I beg your pardon? - Just answer the question.
- Yes.
- Yeah.
I thought so.
And, Ronnie, you feel like she's the only woman in the world for you? - I do.
- Really? - What do you want? Blood? - Just checking.
Do you promise to try to show her that you love her and not just flop down in front of the TV every night? - Yeah.
Whatever you say.
- Okay.
Do you promise not to jump him with a bunch of problems when he comes in from work? And do you promise not to make other plans for him on Super Bowl Sunday? - What? - What happened to love, honor and cherish? Grow up.
It's 1984.
We're talking about being sensitive and considerate to another person's feelings.
And if you promise to do that to the best of your ability then I don't know how you can help but be happy.
That's it.
- That's what? - It's over.
- It is? - Hey, I just made you listen to that stuff.
Technically, I don't have to say anything and you're married.
From now on, it's up to you.
You may kiss the bride.
And you may hug the judge.
I wish we had some rice to throw on them.
How about paper clips? Well, thank you all.
Goodbye.
- Good luck.
Take care.
- Yeah.
Bye.
Thank you very much.
Happy honeymoon! Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
I doubt if I could.
Hey, everybody, come on.
All over to my place for the reception.
Where do you live? Sixth Avenue and 42nd Street.
That's a park.
Dress accordingly.
By the way, folks I don't know why it makes any difference to anyone.
It sure shouldn't.
But for the record, I'm 34 years old.
The pool! - I had 28.
- Thirty-four "HTS.
" Who's HTS? Call it a hunch.