i'm telling you, they got nothing on you, mr. mccoy. get me andruitti over in the bronx. tell him it's urgent about this henry lamb shit.
i believe you. it was a set-up. they were going to take you off. sounds to me like he's got good reasons not to come forward. you just sit tight. that's what you do.
what does that mean?
ayyyy! you wall street honchos are real gamblers. ayyy! whaddaya whaddaya! they would devour you. they would eat you up.
forget it's already a political football. forget the t.v. and reverend bacon and weiss has an election coming up. forget that and remember that when you work in the d.a.'s office and every day you prosecute people with names like tiffany latour and sancho rodriguez and chong wong and shabazz kazan tamali, you are dying to get your hands on a nice white couple like you and mrs. ruskin. biscuit city, ehhh! you open your mouth and they will arrest you. and they will make a big show out of arresting you. and it will be very unpleasant.
that is guaranteed. believe me, you do not want to be arrested in the south bronx. yeah. oh. put him on. yeah? i'll hold. i need to talk to your friend, mrs. ruskin, too.
yeah. you, too. huh?
it was okay. as law schools go. they give you the scholarly view. you know. it's terrific for anything you want to do -- as long as it doesn't involve real people. hey, andruitti, you guinea, how are you? yeah. well, i'm sitting here with sherman mccoy. yeah. that's right. well, i don't know if he needs a lawyer. what do you think? uh-huh. yeah. yeah. yeah. so what does that mean? okay. yeah. sure. yeah. yeah. yeah. he puts down the phone and looks at sherman.
we got a problem.
they're going to arrest you. *
how do you feel?
no problem. they promised me.
that explains it. she left the country this morning. you know some italian painter named filippo sharutti, something like that?
i think your girl friend found a new boyfriend.
it's not going to be so bad. this is routine. i talked to andruitti again last night. he promised me. we'll be in and out of there. no problem. nobody is ever going to know it happened.
what for?
wait a minute. what the fuck?! what press?! i talked to ray last night. he promised no bullshit.
somebody is going to pay for this.
don't talk. what's going on here?!
let me get out first. now listen. you don't say anything. don't cover your face. don't hang your head. you don't even know they're there. okay?
don't make any statements! don't talk to anybody, especially in the pens! i'll be upstairs when they bring you up for arraignment.
yeah? fuck you, too, kramer.
just say, not guilty.
your honor, the defendant is under extreme stress. he pleads not guilty.
just shut up, sherman. defendant pleads not guilty!
your honor, mr. kramer knows very well.
this is patent nonsense. bail has already been agreed to. the spectators are booing and yelling at killian to shut up.
shhh! listen.
yeah. i checked it all out. * whoever sent me this tape is * either a big fan of yours or a not * so big fan of maria ruskin. *
no. it's an illegal tape. totally illegal. the guy who did this could go to jail for this. now if this were your tape, it would be legal. but it's not.
well, if you were wired and you recorded your own conversation that would be okay. but there is no way that this tape can be used as evidence in a court of law.
it gave me an idea.
an idea about what to wear when you go to this funeral.