The Usual Suspects

How you doing, Keaton?

I can't feel my legs...

Keyser.

Ready?

What time is it?

12:30.

It all started back in New York six weeks ago.

A truck loaded with stripped gun parts got jacked outside of Queens.

The driver didn't see anyone, but someone fucked up.

He heard a voice. Sometimes that's all you need.

- Mr.McManus? - Christ! Don't you fucking guys ever sleep?

- We have a warrant for your arrest. - Fuck you, pig.

Todd Hockney?

- Who wants to know? - New York Police Department.

- Shit. - Freeze!

Hold it!

Sure you brought enough guys?

It's quite simple:

A restaurant that changes with the taste without losing the overall aesthetic.

In other words...

...the atmosphere will not be painted on the walls.

- Let me give you an example-- - This I had to see for myself.

David.

- I'm in a meeting. - Time for another one.

Everyone, this is David Kujan.

Special Agent Kujan. US Customs.

These gentlemen are from the New York Police Department.

You look good. Better than I would have thought.

A small matter of a stolen truck loaded with guns.

Mr.Keaton?

Will you excuse us for a moment?

We have some questions to ask you downtown. You'll be a while.

No. Please, sit down.

This is a small problem.

Enjoy the meal. I'll talk to you later.

It didn't make sense that I'd be there.

These guys were hard-core hijackers...

...but there I was.

At that point, I wasn't scared.

I knew I hadn't done anything they could do me for.

Besides, it was fun.

I got to make like I was notorious.

You all know the drill.

When your number is called, step forward and repeat the phrase you've been given.

Number 1, step forward.

"Hand me the keys you fucking cocksucker."

Number 2, step forward.

Gimme the fuckin' keys, you fuckin' cocksucker motherfucker!

Knock it off. Get back. Number 3, step forward.

- "Hand me the keys, you cocksucker." - In English, please.

- Excuse me? - In English.

Hand me the fuckin' keys, you cocksucker. What the fuck?

Number 4, step forward.

It was bullshit. The whole rap was a setup.

"Hand me the keys you fucking cocksucker."

It was the cops' fault.

You don't put guys like that into a room together.

Who knows what can happen?

"Hand me the keys you fucking cocksucker."

This has really got to be embarrassing for you guys.

They drilled us all night.

Someone was mad about that truck hijacking and the cops had nothing.

They were hoping somebody would slip up and give them something.

They knew we wouldn't fight, they knew how to lean on us.

They've been doing it forever. Our rights went out the window.

It was a violation. Disgraceful.

They went after McManus first. Topnotch entry man.

What truck?

- The truck with the guns, fucko. - "Fucko"?

He was a good guy. Crazy, though.

Wanna know what your pal Fenster told us?

- Say who? - McManus.

He told us another story.

Is that the one about the hooker with the dysentery?

Fenster always worked with McManus. He was a real tight-ass.

But when it came to the job, he was right on. A smart man.

- What are you saying? - I said he'll flip you.

- He'll what? - Flip you. Flip you for real.

- I'm shaking. Come on. - Okay.

- Answer my questions. - Can you hear me in the back?

Hello?

I want my lawyer.

I'm gonna have your fuckin' badge, cocksucker.

Todd Hockney: good with explosives.

Without a doubt, the one guy who didn't give a fuck about anybody.

You guys don't have a fuckin' leg to stand on.

You think so, tough guy?

I can put you in Queens during the hijacking.

Really?

I live in Queens.

Did you put that together yourself, Einstein?

You got a team of monkeys working full time on this?

You know what happens if you do another turn in the joint?

I fuck your father in the shower, and have a snack.

- Are you gonna charge me, dickhead? - I'll charge you when I'm ready.

- With what? - You know damn well, dead man.

But Keaton?

Keaton was the real prize for them for obvious reasons.

It was your mistake, not mine.

Did you ever stop to ask me?

I've been walking around with the same face, the same name.

I'm a businessman.

What's that? The restaurant business?

No. From now on you're in the "getting fucked by us" business.

I'm gonna make you famous, cocksucker.

Like I said...

...it was your mistake...

...not mine.

You charge me with this shit...

...and I'll beat it.

Okay?

Let's get back to the truck, asshole.

Really, somebody's got to do something about this shit.

They put me in holding every five minutes. So I did a little time.

Does that mean I get railed every time a truck finds it's way gone?

Fuck 'em.

Fenster, will you relax?

- These guys don't have any probable cause. - You fuckin' right. No PC.

You're goddamn right. You do some time, never let you go.

They treat me like a criminal.

- I'll end up a criminal. - You are a criminal.

Why'd you got to go and do that?

- I'm trying to make a point. - Why don't you make your point?

You're making me tired all over.

Fuck it then.

- I heard you were dead. - Yeah?

- You heard right. - Word I got is you hung up your spurs.

- What's that all about? - What's this?

Rumor has it Keaton's gone straight. I hear he's tapping Edie Finneran.

Who's that?

She's a heavyweight criminal lawyer from uptown.

I hear she's Keaton's meal ticket.

How 'bout it, Keaton?

You a lawyer's wife?

What kind of retainer you giving her?

Do your friend a favor...

...tell him to keep quiet.

Dean Keaton...

Gone clean?

Say it ain't so.

- Or was it you that hit that truck? - Mac, forget him.

Did you get to talk to your lawyer?

This whole thing was a shakedown.

- What makes you say that? - How many times you been in a lineup?

It's always you and four dummies.

The PD are paying homeless guys $10 a head half the time.

There's no way they'd line five felons in the same row.

What's a voice lineup? Public defender could get you out of that.

- Why the hell was I strip searched? - It was the feds.

A truckload of guns gets snagged.

Customs comes down on NYPD for answers. They come up with us.

- They're clutching at straws. - I had a guy's finger up my ass.

Is it Friday already?

Yeah, lover boy.

You want a piece? Jump in. I'll love you.

So who in the goddamn piss hell stole our fucking truck?

- What did you say? - Who stole the fucking truck?

- I don't want to know. - Who asked you, workingman?

Fuck who did it. What I want to know is, who's the gimp?

- He's okay. - Says you. How do I know that?

What about it, pretzel man? What's your story?

His name is Verbal.

Verbal Kint.

- Verbal? - Yeah.

Roger, really. People say I talk too much.

I was going to tell you to shut up.

- We met before, once or twice. - In County. I was in for fraud.

You were in a lineup then, too. What happened?

I walked. 90 days, suspended.

- So you did it. - All right, now look...

...we've all been put out by this whole thing, right?

I figure we owe it to ourselves to salvage a little dignity.

Now, me and Fenster heard about a little job.

Why don't you just calm down?

What do you care what he has to say?

I'm just talking here.

It seems to me like Mr.Hockney wants to hear it...

...and I know Fenster's down.

What about you, guy?

I'm interested.

There. See?

I'd like to exercise my right to free assembly.

Why don't you just shut up?

You're missing the point.

No.

You're missing the point.

I don't want to hear anything from you.

I don't care about your job.

And...

...I want nothing to do with any of you.

I beg your pardon, but you can all go to hell.

Dean Keaton...

...gone the high road.

What is the world coming to?

Fuck him.

And that was how it started:

Five of us brought in on a trumped-up charge...

...to be leaned on by half-wits.

I really can't talk about it much here.

What the cops never figured out, and what I know now...