he's in a coma.
hit and run.
you ever hear of reverend bacon?
excuse me, mr. mccoy. but is there something you want to tell us?
because, if there is, now is the time to tell us. before things get complicated.
let me put it this way, if you want to cooperate, that's great. if you have reasons for not cooperating, then i should tell you that you don't have to say anything. that's your right. if you want, you can say nothing at all. you also have the right to an attorney. i mean, for that matter, if you lacked the 'funds' for an attorney, the state would provide you with one -- free of charge. if that's what you wanted.
 but mainly, it's the look on his face. ain't that the truth, marty?
so i read him his rights -- as casual as i can do it.
nothin' at first. but he's confused. and his eyes are getting bigger and he's double-talking like a son of a bitch. i'm thinking there's something there. cut to:
well.
jesus christ! get out and get that door open or we'll never get him out of the fucking car.
whoa. whoa. give me your coat. okay. try it again.
what the fuck? wait a minute. come here. bend over. sherman looks terrified.
i ain't going to touch you. just bend over at the waist and back through the gate. real slow. sherman bends over at a ninety-degree angle and, holding up his trousers, shuffles backwards through the gate.
slow. slow. slow. a little farther, little farther. little farther. little farther.  as sherman's head goes through the gate, the alarm sounds. goldberg jumps up and down and claps his hands with delight.
hey, martin. come here. look at this.
okay, sherman. do that again. real slow.
it's his head! swear to christ. it's his head. open your mouth.
look in there. you want to see some metal?
they ever let you on an airplane? laughter. cut to: