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 gun parts got jacked outside of Queens.

The driver saw nobody, 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!

You sure you brought enough guys?

It's quite simple.

A restaurant that changes with the taste without losing the esthetic.

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, U.S. Customs.

These men are from the New York Police Department.

You look good, Keaton. Better than I'd have thought.

You have a problem?

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, no, no, please. Please, sit down.

This is a small problem.

Enjoy the meal.

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, repeat the phrase you've been given.

Number one, step forward.

Hand me the keys, you fucking cocksucker.

Number two, step forward.

Give me the fucking keys, you cocksucker, motherfucker...

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

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

Excuse me?

In English.

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

Number four, 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 gotta be embarrassing for you guys.

Someone was pissed about that hijacked truck. The cops had nothing.

They hoped somebody would slip and give them something.

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

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 Fenster told us?

- Said who? - McManus. He told us another story.

Was that the one about the hooker with the dysentery?

Fenster worked with McManus. He was a 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 for real. - I'm shaking.

Come on. Answer my question.

Can you hear me in the back?

I want my lawyer.

I'm gonna have your fucking badge, cocksucker.

Todd Hockney. Good with explosives.

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

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

I can put you in Queens on the night of the hijacking.

Really?

I live in Queens. Did you put that together yourself, Einstein?

You got a team of monkeys working on this?

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

Fuck your father and then have a snack.

- You gonna charge me? - I'll charge you when I'm ready.

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

But Keaton? He was the real prize for them, for obvious reasons.

It was your mistake. Not mine.

Did you ever stop to ask me?

I mean, I been walking around with the same face, the same name.

I'm a businessman.

What's that? The restaurant business?

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.

Now, you charge me with this shit...

...and I'll beat it.

Let's get back to the truck, asshole.

Somebody's gotta do something. I get hauled in every five minutes.

So I did a little time. Does that mean I get railed...

...every time a truck finds its way off the planet? Fuck them.

Fenster, will you relax? These guys don't have any probable cause.

You're fucking-A right. No P.C.

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.

Now, why you gotta 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. - Oh, yeah?

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

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

Rumor is Keaton's gone straight.

- I hear he's tapping Edie Finneran. - Who's that?

A heavyweight criminal lawyer. I hear she's Keaton's meal ticket.

How about it, Keaton?

You a lawyer's wife?

What retainer you giving her?

Hey, Fenster, do your friend a favor.

Tell him to keep quiet.

Dean Keaton.

Gone clean, huh?

Say it ain't so.

Or did you hit that truck?

Mac, Mac. Forget him. Did you get to talk to your lawyer?

This whole thing was a shakedown.

- Why do you say that? - How many times you been in a lineup?

It's always you and four dummies.

P.D. pays homeless guys 10 bucks a head half the time.

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

A voice lineup? A public defender could get you out of that.

So why was I strip-searched?

It was the feds.

A truckload of guns get snagged.

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

- They're clutching at straws. - A guy's finger was up my ass.

Is it Friday already?

Yeah, lover-boy.

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

So who are the goddamn pigs who stole our fucking truck?

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

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

Fuck who did it. I wanna know, who's the gimp?

- He's okay. - Says you. What about it, pretzel man?

His name is Verbal.

Verbal Kint.

Roger, really. People say I talk too much.

I was gonna tell you to shut up.

We met before once or twice.

In county. I was in for fraud.

You were in a lineup. 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?

So 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 says?

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. Sure.

There. See?

Now 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 wanna hear anything from you.

I don't care about your job.

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.

Us five being brought in on trumped-up charges 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...

...was that these men would never break. Never lie down.

Never bend over for anybody.

Anybody.

Who are you?

Agent Jack Baer, FBI. How many dead?

Fifteen. They're still pulling bodies out of the water.

- Any survivors? - There's two.

One guy's in County Hospital in a coma.

The D.A. has the second guy, a cripple from New York.

The chief wants this place sealed off.