City of Lies (2018) - full transcript

Fans of the Notorious B.I.G.

said a final goodbye
to the rap star.

There were tears
at the memorial service,

but when the funeral procession
made its way

to the streets of Brooklyn,
there were angry confrontations,

even an explosion
of pepper spray.

It was a solemn
homecoming tribute

for the fallen rap icon,

but it turned into pockets
of violent scuffling

as police confronted
rowdy fans.

Crowds began surging
against police barricades.



Fans danced on top of cars.

People were losing their cool.

Suddenly, things were
out of control.

BASED ON A TRUE STORY

Police moved in, asking the fans
to disperse.

But some of them resisted.

- 18 MARCH, 1997
NORTH HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA
- Authorities used pepper spray
to break up the gathering.

Before it was over,
10 people were arrested,

most for disorderly conduct.

People in Brooklyn
say cops used excessive force

in handling the crowds.

There were accusations of
brutality and insensitivity.

Again, police officials
say officers...

♪ It's gonna take
a miracle they say



♪ For me to walk again
and talk again

♪ But anyway
I get fronted some keys

♪ To get back on my feet

♪ And everything that nigga said
came to reality

♪ Livin' like a baller, Loc
I'm havin' money

♪ And blowin' hella
chronic smoke

♪ I bought my momma
a Benz, my boo-boo a Jag

♪ And now I'm rollin'
in a nine-trizzay El Do-Rad

♪ Just remember
who changed your mind

♪ 'Cause when you start
set-trippin', that ass is mine

♪ Indeed, agreed
Proceed to smoke weed

- ♪ Never have a want... ♪
- Can I help you?

Roll your fuckin' window up,
white boy, before...

- ..knock your fuckin' ass out.
- Yeah, right.

- Just one of them.
- I'm one of what?

I'm one of what? Yo,
pull the fuck over right now!

Huh? You don't know
who the fuck you fuckin' with!

Fuck.

Jesus fuckin' Christ.

Motherf...

Fuckin' inbred! You wanna
look, talk shit and run?

Police! Drop the gun!

- Drop it now!
- I'm a cop!

I'm a fuckin' cop!

I got called in
to a road-rage incident

eight miles north-east

from where Christopher Wallace,
The Notorious B.I.G.,

had been gunned down
nine days prior.

I didn't connect
the two at first,

but when I did, I lost
everything that mattered.

That day, on that street corner,

the first door
to the labyrinth opened.

♪ Now you do
what they told ya

♪ Now you do what they told ya

- CITY OF LIES
The Hour of Truth
- ♪ Now you do
what they told ya

♪ Now you do what they told ya

♪ Now you do
what they told ya... ♪

In 1991, four white cops
beat Rodney King

and were found not guilty.

And the City of Los Angeles
revolted.

♪ ..justified
for wearing the badge

♪ They're the chosen whites
Come on... ♪

But what we need are honest,

non-biased police officers.

That's what I think! But we
gonna keep it real like this.

Tupac Shakur gave
a poetic voice

to this frustrated,
rebellious generation.

And then it was cashed in on

by L.A.-based rap label
Death Row Records,

helmed by the nefarious
Suge Knight.

On the East Coast,
a rapper with a smooth flow

that went by Notorious B.I.G.
rose to prominence,

building a brand for the New
York label Bad Boy Records.

♪ It was all a dream

♪ I used to read
'Word Up!' magazine

♪ Salt-N-Pepa and Heavy D
up in the limousine... ♪

Tupac and I,
we're two individual people.

Even though we was going
through our drama,

I would never wish death
on nobody.

And the East Coast/
West Coast thing

is something the journalists
are making up

just to get paid off it,
so it can drag out.

In Vegas, shots were fired.

Tupac was hit four times.

Six months later,
police are investigating

the shooting death
of rapper Biggie Smalls.

He was gunned down...

Who killed rapper
Notorious B.I.G.?

And were LAPD officers involved?

- LOS ANGELES
18 YEARS LATER
- The mystery of his murder

has gone unsolved
for 18 years now.

Neither Notorious B.I.G.'s

or Tupac's murder
has been solved.

Russell Poole headed up

the investigation
into Biggie's murder in 1997.

I'm Detective Russell Poole.

Someone has lost
a family member

and they deserve to, um...
to have the answers.

I'm his mother. My son was shot.

I would like to know why.

Ms Wallace
would like to know why.

I gotta be
the one to contain my power

to, like, you know,
"They gotta be dead."

I kinda realised
how powerful Tupac and I was,

you know what I'm saying?

Because... we two
individual people,

we waged a coastal beef,
you know what I'm saying?

One man against one man

made a whole West Coast
hate a whole East Coast

and vice versa,
you know what I'm saying?

And that really bugged me out.

Like, yo, dude don't like me,

so this whole coast
don't like me.

You know what I'm saying?

I knew it wasn't true.

Or at least what I knew I was
getting blamed for wasn't true.

I can't speak for nothing else.
You know, I wasn't there.

But I know what he was
blaming me for wasn't true.

But what he thought was,
like, whoa.

You know what I'm saying?
Kinda took me by...

I mean, even though
we was going through our drama,

I would never wish death
on nobody...

Can I help you?

Whoa.

Door was open. I knocked.

I'm Darius Jackson.

I wanted to talk to you

about the murder
of Notorious B.I.G.

- I'm a journalist.
- I know.

Of course you're a journalist.

Well, I've already stated

that I would rather not
speak to any of you.

So, thank you very much
for your time. Get out.

18 years ago
I used an interview with you

in a... in a news special
that I was doing called...

..'East Versus West'.

Yeah.

It was terrible. It was awful.

Your theory
was completely wrong.

Yeah, well, the Peabodies would
disagree with you on that.

- The Peabodies?
- Yes.

So, you equate life and death
with a fuckin' award show?

- How about I pay you?
- You'll what?

- Pay you.
- You'll pay me?

Get out of my sight.

What I should do is knock
your fuckin' teeth out.

Then I have to call the police,
don't I, Detective?

Oh, and do you trust
that they would come here

and do their job for you?

I did my job, didn't I?
I found you.

White guy shoots and kills
a black guy. Who's at fault?

- Are you threatening me?
- No.

No. It's a riddle.

White guy shoots
and kills a black guy.

Who's at fault?

I don't know.

The answer is,
"Ask more questions."

What does this
have to do with Biggie?

That's what I thought.

Shoo.

Next time knock, please.

I did knock.

What the fuck?

- AWN HEADQUARTERS,
DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES
I have two
journalistic creeds.

One - emotions are the enemy
of facts.

Right?

- Hey, Jack.
- Hey. Good morning.

Remember,
we are a news organisation.

Which brings us to
my second journalistic creed.

There is no bias in facts.

It is possible you will find
success while you are young,

which would be unlucky because
you wouldn't learn patience.

How goes the Biggie
retrospective?

I met Russell Poole today.

Still on the Wallace case.

As a citizen,
he's got a war room

with... with all kinds
of evidence

tacked up on the walls.

Sad.

Yeah, well, that can
happen when a person

rests their entire reputation
on a single case.

You made a hell of a name
for yourself,

but you fucked up.

Biggie did not pay
for the hit on Tupac.

You know, so get it right
this time.

Just don't waste your time
with Russell Poole, right?

'Cause his 'X-Files' theories
have been debunked.

Danny, I'll get this.

Drink up.

If you feel
your life's in danger,

why are you talking to us?

'Cause, man, I mean, you know,
if Biggie was my son...

I mean, if I get got and
somebody could help my mom,

I would hope
they would do the right thing.

So that's what
I'm trying to do now.

Don't shoot.

Hey. There he is.

- You expecting me?
- Oh, absolutely.

You know, you're a pretty
predictable kind of guy.

I can't trust nobody.
I'm running for my life.

- Who's that on the TV?
- Doesn't matter.

How do you make sense
of all of this... this...

..unorganised bullshit?

That's my son's.
He plays shortstop for the Fins.

Got any more asinine questions
you'd like to ask?

Detective Poole,
I know you care about this case.

But you know the LAPD refuted
both our theories, right?

Doesn't mean mine wasn't right.

- So, who shot Biggie Smalls?
- Oh, no, no, no.

- No, you put that away.
- Who shot Biggie Smalls?

Put that away.

- Whoa, whoa. Slow down.
- Put it away.

You ask permission.

Wrong with you?

You're a real pain in the ass,
you know that?

Perfect goddamn stranger
walks into my house

like it's nothing.

I let you walk in today.

And you try and point
that camera at me.

You don't even ask?
You have no respect?

I don't want to be here any more
than you want me to be here.

You tell me who shot Biggie
and I'll leave.

Let's get this straight -
when you speak to me about him,

you refer to him as Christopher
or Mr Wallace.

You owe him that.

Detective Poole,

I'm the only one who's crawling
up the asshole of L.A.

to talk to you.

And I promise you,
I'm the last one

who's ever gonna ask you
the question.

Who shot Christopher Wallace?

- I don't know.
- You don't know?

You spent the last 20 years
in this dank apartment.

What, on a...
on a "I don't know"?

I had a theory.

And my investigation was
ripped out from underneath me.

See all this stuff
you called, er...

..I believe it was
"unorganised bullshit"?

Dots.

That's 20-plus years of dots.

I'm very, very good
at connecting dots.

- 9 MARCH, 1997
♪ I'm giving it up
for the city... ♪

- AFTER PARTY OF THE SOUL TRAIN AWARDS
PETERSEN AUTOMOTIVE MUSEUM
- ♪ City of L.A. ♪

The clock
of life is wound but once.

No man has the power
to tell when the hand may stop.

Yo, Biggie!

Biggie! Biggie!

This is the only time you own.

Live.

Love.

Toil with the will.

Put no trust in tomorrow.

Or the hand may bend,

be still.

- Hey, yo, Biggie! Yo, Biggie!
- No, no, no.

Gotta back up. Gotta back up.

Go.

You can't
hide from the truth.

That truth needs to expose.

This damn man
plotting shit, I know.

He's threatening people.

This is just basically
an autobiography of myself.

Hey...

Excuse me, ladies.
No disrespect.

Is it cool
if I get his autograph?

Yo, I'm your hugest fan, Big.

- You mind signing this for me?
- No problem.

Hey, I stay up with
'Juicy' and 'Big Poppa'.

That's my joints
right there, yo.

I make music for everyone.
Company.

Thank you, man. For real.

There is not a day that goes by

that I don't miss my son.

911, emergency.
What are you reporting?

Yeah, we need
an ambulance

on Fifth after Wilshire,
please, in Los Angeles.

We got a man shot.
We have a... shot.

OK, hold on, I'll...

Right on the corner
of Wilshire and Fifth Ave.

We need it on Wilshire
and Fifth Avenue.

24-year-old rap artist
Notorious B.I.G.,

Christopher Wallace,
was shot early Sunday morning

and later died
of gunshot wounds...

How long until you got
to the scene of the shooting?

A month.

- One month.
- Hmm.

Oh, no, no, no.
You don't cheat, no.

Think.

Don't write, think.

Why did it take you a month
to get on the case?

'Cause I was on
a different case.

White cop shot a black cop.

Drop it now!

- I'm a fuckin' cop.
- Shit. This guy's got a badge.

He drew down on me!

Let's go. Get in there now.

We're here, Frank.
We got you, man.

Report a man down.

Gun! We got a gun!

Get in there and help.
Get in there.

You see it?

Fuckin' drew down on me.

- You heard that on the two-way?
- I did. We're good.

Hey, boss,
look at this.

Drew down on me
at the fuckin' light over there.

I was just sittin' there.
Fuckin' drew down on me.

Listen, Frank.
We checked his pockets, man.

This guy's a cop.

White guy
shoots and kills a black guy.

- Who's at fault?
- Who was the aggressor?

Doesn't matter. Ghost of Rodney
King still haunted the city.

So there was, like... there was
only one way this was gonna end.

And I was the only idiot
to think otherwise.

In 1997,
everybody thought the LAPD

was filled with only one thing -
racist cops.

But it wasn't.
It also had politicians.

Thank you.

Got yourself a genuine cluster
of fuck, Russ.

Two LAPD went Wild West
in daylight.

Shots were fired
at the intersection.

- Witnesses?
- Got too goddamn many of them.

Our shooter is, uh,
undercover detective Frank Lyga.

Claims self-defence.

The deceased
is Officer Kevin Gaines.

Where's Officer Lyga now?

They're holding him
across the street for you

in that burger fuckin' joint.

Cross the 'T's
and dot the 'I's.

Yeah, yeah.

The brass will have our asses

if any part of this
comes back murky, OK?

- Yes, sir.
- Alright, 'bye.

Excuse me.

Who's detective supervisor?

I'm the detective supervisor.

- How do you do? Russell Poole.
- Russell. Nice to meet you.

Can you bring Detective Lyga
to me, please?

OK. Yeah, you got it.

Hey, Gary?

Gary?

- Gary!
- Yeah.

Look. You've got
a surveillance camera there.

Got another one over there.

Get photographs of those for me.

- Julie!
- Right here.

Could you see if you can
recover any casings

from the intersection there?

1-King-51 to Control.

King-51, go ahead.

I need a DMV
on a green Mitsubishi Montero.

Licence number is 2-Adam-Boy

Mary-5-4-3.

- Lyga?
- Yeah.

Detective Russell Poole.

Did you identify yourself
as an officer?

Think I'm dropping
three years undercover

for some bullshit road rage?

He identified himself,
throwing up his set.

Flashing Blood 'B's at me,

saying he's gonna
fuckin' cap my ass

in the middle
of the fuckin' intersection.

Look, I drove away. Ask my crew.

He chased me, man.

He caught me, raised up,
and I shot in fuckin' defence.

That motherfucker is not LAPD.

He is a straight-up
fuckin' banger, I shit you not.

King 51, we have your DMV info.

The vehicle belongs
to a business in Tarzana.

Advise?

Officer Gaines's Montero is
registered to Death Row Records.

Repeat, please?

Officer Gaines's Montero is
registered to Death Row Records.

And this is nine days

after the Christopher Wallace
murder.

And not one arrest.

Not one.

And everyone knew
who the prime suspect was.

♪ With so much drama
in the L-B-C

♪ It's kind of hard
bein' Snoop D-O-double-G

♪ But I somehow, some way

♪ Keep comin' up
with funky-ass shit... ♪

Suge Knight was
the head of Death Row Records.

And Suge Knight
was a gang member.

The Blood. Mob Piru Blood.

Death Row was
a legitimate business,

but its CEO
played by street rules.

♪ Ain't leavin' till
6 in the morning

♪ So what you wanna do? ♪

- MARCH 1997
DEATH ROW RECORDS, TARZANA
♪ Pastor, verse 1

♪ In the black SS, that '96

♪ With that Teflon vest
ready to hit

♪ A nigga up for the work... ♪

Where he at? Come on, baby.

I want him to see these kids.

♪ Put some bullets in my clip,
so my nine tight... ♪

Where he at? Huh?

What you lookin' at? Huh?

Bring your bitch ass
out here, Suge!

I know you did it!

Where you at, Suge? Who gonna
help me take care of these kids?

Coward-ass motherfucker!

You hiding in there
like a little bitch!

You gonna take care
of these kids? Pay my bills?

You wanna act like animal,

I treat you like animal.

Wanna act like dog,
I treat you like dog.

Understand me?
Understand me?

Sir, sir, please.

What batty boy bumbaclart
think he gonna roll up here?

OK, OK. I'm a police officer.

I don't want any trouble.
There are children present.

- White boy!
- I don't...

- I just...
- Roll up.

- They killed him.
- Thank you. 'Bye.

The police are here now.

They killed my husband.
They killed him.

Officer Kevin Gaines.
Cop killers.

What makes you say that
they killed your husband?

Kevin used to do security
for that murdering-ass nigga.

He probably saw something
he shouldn't have seen.

And they killed him.

The car
was riddled with bullets,

leaving him so badly wounded
that he was pronounced dead

at the nearby
Cedars-Sinai hospital.

A very tragic event

that has similarities
to another shooting,

but there were a lot of people
that were in the area

and we're hopeful that
someone will come forward

and give us information so that
we can, er, solve this case.

- There you go.
- Thank you very much.

Appreciate it.

You know other cops have
come around asking for this?

Thank you for hanging onto it.

What, Poole, huh?

What the fuck's so important

I gotta come out here
in a fuckin' monsoon?

I didn't want to discuss this
in the station.

Why are other officers
trying to acquire this tape?

This is my investigation.

Come on, Poole, get ready
for every black cop in L.A.

to come looking over
your shoulder, huh?

Bad fuckin' time for optics.

By the way,
I met Gaines's wife last night

under rather unpleasant
circumstances.

She pulled up
in a $200,000 Mercedes,

said he was working
for Death Row.

Are you kidding me?

Four white cops
beat Rodney King.

Look at the big picture.

Gaines was a violent hothead.

A lot of them are.

A lot of who are?

The jungle bunnies.

Huh?

Gaines buried himself.

There's no need for us
to dig for more dirt.

What's the word
on the Wallace case?

The word is it's not your case.

You're South Bureau, and that's
Robbery-Homicide's case.

Focus on your own.

Figured white detective

crazy enough to roll up
on Death Row

might wanna know something.

I have a weapon.

I'm Special Agent
Terrence Watts.

FBI.

FBI infiltrated Death Row
about a year ago.

I've barely made it
to the outer rim,

so I just mainly hear rumours.

But I can, 100%, confirm this.

Suge Knight has LAPD
in his inner circle.

I'm talking
straight-up mobster shit.

- Officer Gaines was one of them?
- He advised on protocol.

Monitoring police scanners
when they rode dirty.

Coordinating how to use
walkie-talkies.

Listen, this is something

that I would not risk
my cover for just yet.

But they're saying,
"We got Biggie."

And Officer Gaines
was an accessory.

- APRIL 1997
LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT - 6TH FLOOR

I got a problem.

Black guy in a green jeep
on my ass.

I need you guys.
Think he's got a gun.

Hey, you wanna
look, talk shit and run?

Look at this, motherfucker.

I just shot
somebody. I need help.

After you shot Officer Gaines,
what went through your mind?

What went through my mind?

"Good."

Obviously, you've never had
the service end of a handgun

pointed at your face.

Excuse me?

I might remind you, you're
speaking to a superior officer.

Not in this room, I'm not.

I know my rights.

In here I face
civilian consequences

and I'm afforded
civilian rights.

I got a two-and-a-half
and a one-year-old at home.

A man raised a gun to kill me
and I was faster.

For that, I say, "Good"...

..sir.

Detective Poole, do you have
any additional evidence

to refute or strengthen
Detective Lyga's assertion

that Officer Gaines
acted in a matter unbecoming?

Nothing as yet
that I can prove, Lieutenant.

Come here.

What the fuck was that, hmm?

I happen to strongly believe
that Gaines was into much more.

I don't give a fuckin' shit,
Columbo.

We're not Internal Affairs.

What were you gonna do?
Arrest him? He's fuckin' dead!

The facts point
to something more here.

Oh, drop the boy-scout
bullshit, Russ!

I asked you not to complicate
a simple fuckin' case.

Lyga's cleared.

He's probably on his way home

to have a fuckin'
Pabst Blue Ribbon.

You're fucked off

because you didn't get a soapbox
to wax lyrical about the shield.

I don't ever want to hear about
this fuckin' case again.

You hear me, Detective?

So, what's it gonna take?

So you scammed your way up?

No, no. I don't scam.

I do. And that's how you do it,
exactly what you did.

Let me tell you something.

Every detective in America
wants on Robbery-Homicide,

and I was certainly
no different.

I mean, that's
the major leagues.

But, no, you don't scam
your way in.

You get in by being
the best at one thing.

Solving murders. That's...

- APRIL 1997
ROBBERY-HOMICIDE DIVISION

♪ It's the big come-up

♪ It's the big come-up... ♪

Hey.

Welcome to the Parker Center,
home of Robbery-Homicide.

I'm Miller.
Let's get you up to speed.

Russell Poole. Pleasure.

Hey, this is the new guy.

Just got promoted up
from South Bureau.

Thanks.

So, I think if we...
Yeah, hold on.

Hey, Chief.

That's right. Chief of Police.

Welcome to the big time, Poole.

- What's your handicap?
- In what?

- In golf?
- No, in life. Yes, in golf.

- I don't know.
- Give me his file. Thank you.

"Russell Poole
is a South End gangs expert

"with over 500 crime scenes
under his belt."

Well, fuck me, I didn't know
we promoted on merit anymore.

I'll just assume
you know what you're doing.

- I do, sir.
- No, no 'sir'.

Fred or Miller.

You're now
a Robbery-Homicide detective.

We get the city's
highest-profile cases,

but we don't act like Marines.

This is Homicide.
This is Lefferts.

She's a pretty good detective.

And this is Snow.

Bit of a dummy,
can't hit a softball either.

This is Bank Detail over here.

And through this door...

..you are now investigating

the murder of
The Notorious B.I.G.

Don't feed into it.

If you feed into it,
it's gonna end up escalating.

You know what I'm saying?

OK, according to
initial police reports,

12:49am six shots are fired.

Los Angeles police
are investigating

the shooting death
of rapper Notorious B.I.G.

Bullet casings
were found on the scene.

Geco 9mms.
They're German manufacture.

Gecos.

Very rare.

Ballistics is checking
for extractor marks

and we've got Fingerprints

looking for fingerprints
on these.

Four shots hit Wallace.

Two bullets were recovered
from the body.

The fourth was the kill shot,

striking the left lung,
liver, heart.

The shooter's vehicle
was a dark sedan.

Dark-coloured.
Green, possibly black.

Some witnesses say
it was a Caprice,

but most of the witnesses think

it was a Chevy Impala SS,
a Super Sport.

This is a surveillance
photo, the night of the murder.

Same car.

Two composite sketches,

one done in Los Angeles,
the other done in New York

when the LAPD went there
to interview the witnesses

about the Petersen on March 9.

And lastly, we got CIs.

We've got a county
full of confidential informants

crawling out of the woodwork
to give us information.

These rats are crawling out
of the sewer, for God's sake.

So, in short,
we've got hundreds of leads.

We've got hundreds
and hundreds of leads.

So you don't tell
your partner about Death Row

having Gaines and other cops
on the payroll?

At that point, I didn't know
Miller or how he would react.

So no. No, I didn't...
I didn't tell him.

I knew if the Gaines tip was
legit, it would come up again.

♪ Now I got a murder rap

♪ 'Cause a brother
like me said, well

♪ Yo, Cold 187, they tryin'
to give you a murder rap

♪ And you ain't even like that

♪ Yo, serve these niggas, 'cause
they deserve to get dissed... ♪

Hurry up, man.
Ain't got all day.

Maybe I ain't in a hurry
to find out

what's waitin' for me
on this hill.

- MAY 1997
BOYLE HEIGHTS
Keep steppin'.

Miller? You fuckin' bitch!

You know, one day this shit's
not gonna work.

I couldn't wait to congratulate
you on your early release.

- And you're welcome, by the way.
- Who the fuck is this?

Psycho Mike,
this is Detective Poole.

He's new, so he's nobody,
but he's delighted.

- How did Suge settle in prison?
- I have no fuckin' idea.

Mike, we're boys, huh?

Hmm?

Boys get each other
early release.

Mike, our boys get Suge
put in a cell next to yours.

Come on, man.

I don't wanna fuck
with this shit no more.

Look, I don't know shit.

Alright. OK.

Poole, we'll take him back
to prison. Turn on the sirens.

I want his cellmates to know

he's been hanging out
with his LAPD friends.

Oh, man. What the fuck, dude?

You Iowa motherfuckers don't
know shit about the streets.

Dude, it's like I got
a gun to my head

and you asking me to pull
the motherfucking trigger.

Look, Mike. Mike, listen to me.

You talk to me.

I'll get your sister
out in five.

Alright, man. Fuck it.

There ain't nothin' but Bloods
in there, so Suge's fine.

But Suge don't wanna see
Bad Boy rise up,

so Biggie gets got.

Suge says we hit him up,

Biggie takes it
like a big, fat bitch.

- How was it coordinated?
- Motherfucker, eat a dick!

Who's talkin' to you?
Am I talkin' to him?

You think they fuckin' draw
this shit up on chalkboards?

Man, this shit
was straight stealth.

It was real quiet.

They hired
a fuckin' contract hit.

Did Suge call it?

Suge don't pop off
at the mouth like that.

He's at the top of
the food chain. He's insulated.

They're saying
this other nigga called it.

Some Mob Piru Blood
named D-Mack.

- That's what they say.
- D-Mack.

Alright.

What about the shooter?

Let me show you
a composite sketch of a guy.

No. I don't need to see that.

He's clean-cut, faded hairdo.
Medium-complected.

The motherfucker walks around
in a suit and a bow tie,

like he's a Nation of Islam.

His name's Amir Muhammad.

- I got what I need.
- No, you didn't.

I got the composite sketch.
I got the name.

I'm done here.

Well, go ahead and run with it
and see what happens.

What, is there something you
ain't telling me or something?

There's a whole book of things
I ain't telling you.

I'll say it was
an unnamed source, alright?

Amir Muhammad's
never even been arrested.

The guy's clean as a whistle.

You want a name?

You want a name?

I dunno. A couple of years.

It's gonna be the big story
of the week, that's for sure.

I just scooped the name
of Biggie's shooter.

Stanley Kirk Burrell.

- Can you hear me now?
- Yeah.

Hey, can I call you right back?

Jack, I don't think
you should touch this one, babe.

In fact, you can't touch this.

Because...

Holy fuck.

Your killer is...

..MC Hammer.

♪ U can't touch this... ♪

Jack...

♪ U can't touch this, Jack

♪ U can't touch this, Jack

♪ Jigga-jigga-jigga jigga-ding

♪ Jigga-jigga jing-jing-jing
Can't touch this

- ♪ Mm-mm, U can't touch this. ♪
- I got it.

- Alright, I'm gonna stop.
- Don't you got work to do?

Yeah, OK, OK.
I'll stop if you stop.

♪ Hammer time! ♪
God, I love you, Jack.

I'll start it
from the beginning.

- I got it, alright? I got it.
- You don't got it yet.

Alright, Jack.

Jack, stop.

Jack, stop!

And here comes the pitch.

Awesome!

And batting next,
that's shortstop number 29,

Russell Poole Jr!

Players on first and second.

Here it comes.

Oh, and that's a brilliant...

We got one run coming in.

We got a runner
standing on third!

And that's Poole
with the stand-up power.

How did your son play?

My son's not something I'm
willing to discuss with you.

Is MC Hammer?

You got me, man.
That was a good one.

Oh, that was great.

- One of my best.
- I deserved it.

Yeah, you did. Yeah, you did.

Why is the Wallace case
so important to you?

I'm obsessed with the truth,
and that's my sickness.

I remember Bobby Kennedy said,

"Every society gets the kind
of criminal it deserves."

"And every community gets
the kind of law enforcement

"it insists on."

At one time
I actually believed that.

When I joined the LAPD

we called each other
"brother officer".

I wanted to serve on that force.

I wanted on this case because
I had to know for myself...

..if there were, in fact,
dirty cops involved.

Would you like me to start
at the trial or the arrest?

Tell it however
you wanna tell it.

Take me from the next dot.

Well, you follow every lead,
really,

even if it's just
to rule it out.

So I'll start
with your theory -

the idea that Biggie
had paid for the hit on Tupac.

We looked into it.

Went to Vegas to meet Varney.

He's the lead
detective investigator

in the murder of Tupac Shakur.

At 4:03, in Las Vegas time,

Tupac Shakur passed away, y'all.

- MAY 1997
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Give me a moment of silence.

Alright, this is where
the whole melee took place.

This guy getting the shit kicked
out of him is Orlando Anderson.

Tupac is there somewhere.

And look at that guy
doing the ground and pound.

Watch this. Boom! Boom!

And here's Tupac and Suge Knight
making a hasty escape.

And Suge Knight just violated
the terms of his parole,

which is why he's sitting in a
federal penitentiary right now.

Two hours after this,
Tupac Shakur is killed

in a drive-by off the Strip.

Are you guys hearing

that the shooters were hired
by Christopher Wallace?

Look, the Biggie
killed Tupac theory's bullshit.

This is the most famous rapper
in the world.

He's 6'2", he's 400 pounds,
he's got an entourage.

He's not gonna slip into

the most CCTVed city on earth
unseen.

No, Wallace, he checked out.

Biggie didn't have Tupac killed?

No.

No, he didn't.

You know, sometimes the bad guys

will put the word out
on the street

that somebody else
committed their crime.

It's like a smokescreen.

That smoke spreads wide enough,

media grabs hold of it...

..wildfire.

So, what did you do
when the lead went dead?

We asked more questions.

What was Suge Knight's demeanour

when you interviewed him
after the shooting?

Um, elusive. He didn't help us.

Nobody did.

Truth be told, Vegas doesn't
want us to close the Tupac case.

Move the cars, open the bars,
keep the Strip open.

Leave those circus trials
in L.A., you know what I mean?

How's that?

- You saw our murder book, right?
- Yeah.

Every page is a sworn statement
by an eyewitness

that contradicts another sworn
statement by an eyewitness.

You take a suspect to trial,

his attorney
will have a field day

and we'll be left
holding our dicks.

Like those LAPD dicks
after the OJ trial.

You know what?

- Go fuck yourself.
- Come again?

You Crisco oil piece of shit,
you fuckin' heard me.

Are you serious?

Those LAPD dicks
got royally fucked

because they had the audacity

to pin the murder
on a guilty man,

a man lucky enough to be charged
after Rodney King,

so Cochran could just hint
that they were racist.

Everybody heard
the Furhman tape.

I'm talking about solid guys,
lifetime fuckin' guys,

who had their retirement
fuckin' ruined.

Why? Because they had the balls
to do their fuckin' job!

And here you are,
you gutless fuckin' wonder!

We'll talk about cops.

You will never in your career

do the cop work they did
on a fuckin' lunch break.

One more thing.

Fuck Fuhrman.
You remind me of him.

And fuck this fuckin' city.

Miserable piece of fuckin' shit.

You idolise guys
ahead of you in the force.

Then you watch them get fucked

by the very system
they propped up.

It's a game of inches.
The point is to win.

So us, we stick together.

And we do everything we have to
to win.

Hmm?

The FBI have infiltrated
Death Row.

There are LAPD officers
in its inner circle

and these officers
are loyal to Suge Knight.

I believe that Officer Gaines
may have been an accessory

to Biggie Smalls's murder.

OK, Poole,
walk me through it.

12:30am,
Wallace exits the Petersen

and gets in the last vehicle
of a three-car convoy.

It's a Suburban. It's driven
by Greg Young, aka G-Money.

Right.

In the first vehicle

is an off-duty
Inglewood police officer,

Reginald Blaylock.

He pulls out, blocks
the traffic on Fairfax, OK?

Now, Biggie's security,
Eugene Deal,

walks to the garage exit,

where he comes face to face

with a man in a blue suit
and a bow tie,

who Deal identifies as a member
of the Fruit of Islam.

- The Nation of Islam's...
- Security guards.

Yeah, exactly.

Deal shows the man
that he's armed.

The man leaves.

Deal then notices,
as do many other eyewitnesses,

a black sedan parked
facing southbound on Fairfax.

- Correct?
- Yeah.

And it's in front
of a white vehicle,

the occupants of which shoot
video of the incident, OK?

Deal then gets in the second car
of the convoy.

Excuse me.
Kenneth Story is driving.

Puffy is sitting

in the passenger seat.

Then they pull
just past the kerb.

Biggie's SUV
then pulls in behind.

OK?

On the sidewalk
are approximately 15 people

who had attended the party
at the Petersen.

DJ Quik, Kurupt
and, er, what's that...

- Wait, Foxy Brown.
- Foxy Brown, here.

Now, while Biggie's car idles
at the exit of the garage,

he signs an autograph for a fan

and then he speaks to a woman
who approaches the vehicle.

Now, 12:49am.

Puffy's car pulls out,

heads north on Fairfax.

Eugene Deal,
Wallace's head of security...

Security.

..he advises Kenneth Story,

blow the light,
for security reasons, OK?

Puffy's car goes through
that yellow light

and turns left onto Wilshire.

But Biggie's car
stops at the red light.

That lane, exactly.

The second he stops at
this red light, a white SUV...

..pulls in parallel
to Biggie's vehicle

and stops, blocking it.

Now, at this exact same second,

our shooter,
in the black sedan...

- The Chevy Impala SS.
- Yes.

He speeds north on Fairfax,

pulling parallel to the right
side of Biggie's car...

..boxing him in...

..while the shooter
fires six shots.

We checked the cellphone data.

It's garbage.
We can't use any of it.

So, look, either the shooter
got lucky

or, I don't know, he coordinated
it in some other way.

If Officer Gaines
or other cops advised,

they would know
to avoid cells, obviously.

Yeah.

You know what
they'd use, Miller?

Walkie-talkies.

Miller, he bought
into your theory

that LAPD cops were involved?

Yeah. Yeah, he did.

For a night.

Today the family
of slain police officer

Kevin Gaines have retained
attorney Johnnie Cochran

and filed
a wrongful death lawsuit

against the City of Los Angeles
for $25 million.

Kevin Gaines, shot and killed
on March 18...

They hired that miserable fuck
Johnnie Cochran.

..a former assistant
district attorney,

has successfully brought
multiple class action suits

against the LAPD.

I'd never seen
anything as charged as this,

but Miller had.

I saw clues that said
our bad guys might be cops.

Miller only saw that we were
white cops accusing black cops.

He saw us heading straight for
a nationally televised trial

where Johnnie Cochran
would ruin our careers

just like he did
the OJ detectives.

You like that?

You had the choice between
all these different cars

and this is the car
you're gonna choose?

I just wish I could get
under the hood,

you know, work on the engine.

It works! That's great.

Thank you.

Can I get the, er...

Am I allowed to get
the carne asada?

I mean, it's, like, $4 more,

but I'm not gonna get
a side order.

You know what, I would like
to have the carne asada too.

Both of us. Thank you.

What do you think
was going through Miller's mind?

Oh, er... protecting his pension.

Everybody in the LAPD
knew that Gaines was dirty.

But as soon as Cochran
was in his family's corner...

..all I know is that Miller
flew to New York without me.

And he came back
and he's saying

Biggie's entourage
doesn't want to talk,

that my cop theory's a dead end.

They wanted to, sort of,
stall the case a bit

until they found
a more suitable, er, suspect.

Hoping for a gangbanger.

Yeah.

And that's what we got.

D-Mack.

- NOVEMBER 1997
SOUTH CENTRAL

I need access
to my safety deposit box.

OK. You're just gonna
have to fill out this.

Open the door or you'll be
the first to fuckin' die, OK?

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Everybody get the fuck
on the ground now!

Don't fuckin' look at me,
you hear me?!

Nobody fuckin' look at me!

Get the fuck away from there.

Gimme the fuckin' money
right now! Let's go.

- Gimme the money now!
- Don't make a move!

- Come on. Hurry up.
- Go!

Everybody stay the fuck down

and everything's
gonna be alright, alright?

Let's go. Fuckin' move.

Get in!

Go, go, go, go!

I'm Special Agent Dunton
with the FBI.

Can I get a moment?

Thanks.

A man that hits a woman
isn't even a man.

He's an animal.

Smart, though.

Small bank like yours
usually has 50,000 on hand,

but today you had 15 times
that much.

I need to speak
to whoever made that order.

It was you.

The holidays are coming up.
You know, that's what we do.

- We... we do that.
- Sure. No, no, no, no, yeah.

But I'll tell you the truth.

Who I really need to speak to

is the person who had the keys
to the vaults.

I got nothing to say.

You're gonna be very, very old

when you get out of prison,
young lady.

What if I can talk
to him?

What if... w-what if
I can con... convince him

to give the money back, huh?

Then... then will I still
be in trouble?

- Who? Who are we talking about?
- My boyfriend.

Give me his name.

♪ Sellin' crack in the system

This is
Los Angeles... Los Angeles.

♪ When I was young

♪ Let me tell you how it was
where I come from

♪ When I was young

♪ Let me tell you how it was
where I come from

This is Los Angeles.

♪ When I was young,

♪ Let me tell you how it was
where I come from

♪ Run up, you get popped
with the popgun

♪ I was sellin' rocks on 6-1
Next one... ♪

Please be
advised there are some children

playing in the...

Go, go, go, go, go!

Put your hands up.

David Mack! Freeze!

Don't do it.

Put your gun on the ground.

I'm not gonna ask you again.

Put the gun on the ground.

Nice and slow. Nice and slow.

Very good.

Turn around.

Bedroom's clear!

Get the fuck off me,
bitch-man, motherfucker.

You know the fuck I know, Blood?
Hmm?

How's your coffee?

Black and strong.

- Like your nigga.
- Mm-hm. Yes.

Yes, my nigga, Officer Mack.

Or should I call you D-Mack?

Look, we know that bank robbery

is not your only
extracurricular activity.

We found some interesting items
in your house.

Geco 9mm bullets.

That's rare.

A Death Row medallion.

Sweet Impala.

- What else you up to?
- Come on.

What kind of "no havin'
backbone" nigga is you, huh?

Well, I'm not wearing cuffs,
for a start.

You went to
the University of Oregon.

I know you're educated, Mack.

But if you want to keep talking
this thug thing

'cause you think you're gonna
reach into my inner nigga

and rattle my sense of manhood,
you go right ahead.

OK, Special Agent.

So, where we start?

With Death Row.

I don't know.

If you don't talk to me,

if you don't tell me
where the money is,

15 years.

15?

- Years?
- Mm-hm.

Oh, fuck.

Come on, nigga.

Nigga, that ain't shit, Blood.

15 years?

Get the fuck outta here
with that bullshit, nigga.

Fuck you think this is?
I'm from the gutter, Blood.

See, that's Compton.
You feel me?

- I'm Piru, nigga.
- Mm-hm.

What the fuck you think 15 years
gonna do to a nigga like me?

I know niggas doin' life.

And I put 'em there.

Give me 20.

D-Mack and Kevin Gaines.

Both connected to Death Row.

Both surely involved
in Biggie's shooting.

And both untouchable.

Why?

- Because they're both LAPD.
- Mm-hm.

We can't let you test
Mack's Impala for forensics.

It'll take me an hour. One hour.

It's bad timing, alright?

I mean, my fuckin' hands
are tied.

The future earning
potential in Christopher Wallace

would be over a billion.

So, if we could prove
a connection

between a cop
and Biggie's murder,

then a lawsuit
by the Wallace family

would not only break the LAPD,
it would...

It would bankrupt the city.

♪ I put hoes in NY onto DKNY

- JANUARY 1998
COMPTON
- ♪ All Philly hoes,
dough and Moschino

♪ Every cutie wit' a booty
bought a Coogi

♪ Now who's the real dookie?
Meanin' who's really the shit?

♪ Them niggas ride dicks
Frank White push the sticks

♪ On the Lexus, LX,
four and a half

♪ Bulletproof glass tints
if I want some ass

♪ Gon' blast squeeze first... ♪

- There you go.
- Oh, delish.

How many times you guys
want to hear the same story?

We've had some developments.

This was, like,
last year and shit.

You know, a couple
of brothers get shot

and nobody gives a fuck,
do they?

But if Garth Brooks gets shot,
y'all would declare martial law.

I just want to ask...

..do you recognise this man?

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Hold up. Hold the fuck up.

Yo, Biggie! Hey, Biggie!

♪ Starin' at me

♪ Breath is heavy

♪ Headlight... ♪

This motherfucker was at
Petersen that night. I saw him.

He was, er, security, you know?

Biggie's on the move.
Biggie's on the move.

Yeah, he was the one
on the walkie-talkie.

♪ Creeps inside... ♪

Belsher. It's Jackson.

I need you to find
Sergeant Mike Reese of the LAPD.

Ask him to slip you the
Christopher Wallace murder book.

You said murder book,
as in uno,

not 40 boxes of 90 murder books.

Here.

I'm done. All yours.

Kennedy said that every society

gets the kind of criminal
that it deserves.

Right.

But news, that's something that
somebody wants to suppress.

Do you remember Kelly Jamerson?

Yeah. What about him?

You're gonna love this.

- 15 MARCH, 1995
MIRACLE MILE
- ♪ Safe to drive... ♪

He was one of
the Rollin 60's Crips

who attended
a Death Row afterparty.

Well, he starts throwing up
gang signs, right?

So Suge's guys decided
to beat him down a little.

But they beat him
to death.

This is the section
on the Kelly Jamerson murder.

However...

..he's not in here.

They redacted the entire
incident. He's not in here.

The security guards
who stood by

and watched a man
being murdered

were off-duty LAPD officers.

You redact
the Jamerson incident,

then you redact the proof
that the LAPD

has a history of its officers
working for Death Row.

- Where you goin'?
- Got to follow through.

You can't just leave.
I just brought up 90 boxes.

Hey, give me some grace
on this, alright?

Grace? Fuck does that mean?

He says, very indignantly,
"I'm the Pope."

You're so full
of shit, Edwards.

- Excuse me, gentlemen.
- I'm not here to talk to you.

Commander...

..I wonder if you could answer
some questions on the record.

Fasulo, this is Jackson.

Jackson, Fasulo.

I've seen
the Wallace murder book.

Oh, Christ.

Why did you redact
the past instances

of the LAPD's connection
with Death Row Records?

Look, I can't comment
on an open investigation, OK?

- It's an open investigation?
- Yeah.

Wow.

You have any suspects?

Jackson, I'm not
gonna repeat myself.

I cannot comment
on an open investigation.

What's going on here?

Jackson's been spending
a little bit of time with Poole.

- Russell. Russell.
- Oh, Poole.

This is the... OK, alright.

You know, you are as much
an embarrassment to Edwards

as Poole was to the LAPD.

Let me guess, Kevin Gaines
drove David Mack's Impala

up the grassy knoll,

where they proceeded
to both whack Kennedy.

Is that what
you're going for here?

You find the unsolved murder
of two young men funny?

No, not at all.

I find you thinking
that you're spending time

with the man
who's going to solve this,

that's what I find funny.

You want something off
the record, put that thing away.

- Go on, put it away.
- OK.

Turn it off, put it away
and I'll tell you something.

Alright, this is off the record.

I bet you Poole
hasn't mentioned Wardell Fouse.

He was a Mob Piru Blood

that Suge Knight paid
to shoot Biggie.

Poole tell you that?

- I'll track him down.
- And bring along a shovel.

Because he was killed in 2003.

And listen, Jackson, let me
do you a solid here, OK?

Poole is certifiable.

He's a lunatic, alright?

And if he's giving you
his Captain America routine,

and the Stars and the Stripes,

and his... his badge
on his sleeve,

ask him about his suspension.

The guy's a disgrace.

He's a pathological liar.

I mean, the Wallace's
family civil case

was based upon his theory
and it was all tossed.

The man is a lonely shut-in.

And he needs a warm body
like yourself to talk to.

So he'll say
whatever you want to hear.

But reporting things
that aren't true

is your specialty,
right, Jackson?

And that's the end of story.

I don't want to talk
about it anymore,

and we're about to have dinner,
so maybe you could...

- Thanks for your time.
- Alright.

Jesus, Mary
and fuckin' Joseph!

This is your employee?

Is he medicated? Is he a drunk?

Why did you even
let him sit down?

- Yeah, come in.
- Tell me about Wardell Fouse.

Fouse?

Oh, you're buying
into that bullshit now?

Street name was 'Poochie'.

He was the primary
in the LAPD's current theory.

- Fuckin' knew this shit?
- I'm a detective.

A detective says, "I don't know
until I can prove it."

You've been talkin' about this
dirty cop and that dirty cop.

Well, what about you, Russ?

Never a mention about the cop
who got suspended.

No, let me tell you something.

You have no idea
what the LAPD is capable of.

Stop! How can I trust
a single word

that comes out
of your fuckin' mouth?

You look at these walls.

I earned everything here.
Letters of commendation.

And that's why your son
doesn't talk to you.

Because you care more
about that than him.

How fuckin' dare you?

♪ Oh

♪ To all the ladies in the place
with style and grace

♪ Allow me to lace these lyrical
douches in your bushes... ♪

♪ The back of the club, sippin'
Moët is where you'll find me

♪ Back of the club,
sippin' Moët... Moët... ♪

♪ Straight up, honey,
really I'm askin'

♪ Most of these niggaz think

♪ They be mackin'
but they be actin'

♪ Who they attractin'
with that line

♪ "What's your name,
what's your sign"? ♪

Roll down the window.

Licence and registration.

- What did I do?
- Licence and registration.

This is bullshit.

Sir, are you recording me
right now on that phone?

- Sir...
- How does that feel to you?

- Turn off the phone.
- I'm a journalist.

I got First Amendment rights
and I ain't turnin' off shit.

Turn off the fuckin' phone,
I said.

- Let's go. Out of the vehicle.
- What the fuck, man?

I ain't gettin' out
nowhere, man.

Get out of the vehicle now.

Nice and slow.

Out of the vehicle, now!

- Everybody! Everybody!
- Turn around!

They fuckin' with me.
I ain't done shit!

Turn around.

It's me.

I'm in the, er...

..L.A. Central.

Jack?

Jack?

I hate to tell you this,

but Edwards took you
off the Biggie retrospective.

- ..of facts.
- I need a word.

You commissioned
a 20-year retrospective

and I'm not on it?

The central claim
has been discredited.

- According to who?
- The LAPD.

Of course it was discredited
by them.

They couldn't solve the case
in the first goddamn place.

We are distancing ourselves
from the story.

- Detective Miller?
- Who wants to know?

March 1997, you were the, er...

..the lead detective on the
Christopher Wallace case, right?

What are you?
A lawyer? Or a cop?

- Journalist.
- Even worse.

I had one foot in retirement.
I don't remember much.

Too many damn suspects.

Too many damn leads.

Was Amir Muhammad one of them?

What the...

Amir Muhammad
was a possible shooter, yeah.

But we never interviewed him.

Can I buy you a beer?

Everybody had a shooter.
Everybody had a theory.

My partner asked
onto the case at the time

because he had a theory.

Was he... was he
a good detective?

Was he a good partner?

Russell Poole.

One of the best.

Younger guy, but from an older
school than even I was from.

Worked an honest shift.

Er, lacked nuance.

Followed orders to the point
of insubordination.

Yeah, well, if the cops
can be bending the rules,

then where does that leave
the rest of us?

Oh, Christ. That sounds
like something he would say.

- You sure you haven't met him?
- No.

You gotta be able
to separate yourself

from the community
that you serve,

and Poole wasn't cut
from that cloth.

You know what became of him?

No idea. They split us up.

There was a cop. Dirty cop.

Er, fuck, I can't
remember his name.

- Bank robber.
- Hmm.

One theory was that
his loyalty lied with Death Row

and he was involved
in Biggie's murder,

so the brass put Poole in charge
of an STF looking into that.

Huh?

They gave Poole a special task
force to look into David Mack?

That's the fuck's name!

David fuckin' Mack. Yes.

Thanks for your time.
Appreciate it.

Sure.

Hey, one more thing.

You know,
something always struck me

about that fuck David Mack.

The whole time he was in prison,
he only got one visitor.

Amir Muhammad.

No run.

Aha. Got a question for you.

Why does the LAPD give
a substandard officer

his own special task force?

You don't get to come here.

It's a free country.

Then do me a favour -
root for the other team.

Substandard? No, sir.

Are you?

Unfortunately.

Alright, everybody, listen up.

This task force
is changing direction.

Russ, we got a live one.
We need you to shift focus.

We're on a live one
right now, sir.

Let me see you for a second.

Drop the Death Row pursuit.

We got cocaine in evidence,
turns out to be Bisquick.

Same cop signed out
every package.

Probably selling it
in the street.

Looks like it's Frank Lyga.

Fuckin' shittin' me, man?

I'm on unpaid leave

and you think
I'm going to Evidence Control

to sign my name to six pounds
of coke I intend to steal?

Come on, bro!

Did you believe him?

Yeah.

Yeah, I did.

His incident with Gaines

drove a very strong racial wedge
through the force.

There's your duffel.

Did you not want
to see my ID or...?

I'm sure you ain't
gonna rob the place.

Evidence Control
was so lax,

Detective Lyga was
the easiest target in the world

for anybody who wanted
to frame him.

Detective!

You left your evidence bag.

I have to get back
to Disneyland.

What, you...

I didn't know who
to trust, so I went to the top.

Chief?

- Go away, Poole.
- You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Sir, this department
has bad elements.

Now, I can't tell you
who killed Christopher Wallace

because I've not been allowed
to do my job properly.

Every time I turn a corner,
I'm not allowed to look.

Why? Because my suspects
are cops.

We've all sworn the same oath

to uphold the law
regardless of the circumstances.

I believe we owe that
to Christopher Wallace,

to his mother
and to his family.

Poole, you insubordinate shit.

I told you
a hundred fuckin' times,

you're off the Wallace case.

Off the Wallace case.

I went to the District Attorney.

And, er...

..I filed a complaint
against the LAPD.

You ever love something so much,

you know, you try too hard,

hold onto it to make it work,

to make it yours, to make it...

You know, it's just...

No.

It was a long time ago.

Long time ago.

Yeah, we need an ambulance

on Fifth after Wilshire, please,
in Los Angeles.

We have a man shot.
We have a... shot.

OK, hold on, I'll get...

Right on the corner
of Wilshire and Fifth Avenue.

Death Row had three cops
in its inner circle.

Right here is a list of every
cop who partnered with Mack.

- You investigate all of them?
- I didn't have to.

Because there was
only one stupid enough

to blow $25,000 in Vegas
with Mack

two days after the bank robbery.

Rafa Perez.

The department forced me
to follow Lyga

for stealing cocaine.

Guess who was actually
stealing it.

Rafael Perez?

Why do I know that name?

'Cause I made him famous.

2-Adam-34,
respond to a domestic dispute

at 4365 Whittier Boulevard.

- A husband and wife fighting.
- 10-4, Central.

This is Officer Perez. I've got
some suspicious activity.

I'm at 1010 East Cesar
E. Chavez Avenue. Stand by.

What the fuck?
How about turning that shit off?

Relax, tiger, relax.

Wassup? You got
my candy or what?

Yeah, I found
another distributor.

Hey, that's good for you,

but you're not stiffing me
on this, fool.

I'm not.
I'm gonna get rid of you.

Shots fired! Shots fired!
Officer fired upon!

All units be advised,
Officer Perez fired with intent.

I repeat, Officer Perez
is the assailant.

Send an ambulance
to this location right away.

Stand by.
We got 16-38 needs backup.

Officer Perez!

Hands in the air!

The suspect in the shooting
is a police officer.

Turn around slowly to your left
until I tell you to stop.

What are you gonna do?

You gonna shoot me?

Are you wearing your vest?

Nah, you're too pink,
motherfucker!

Arggh!

- Get down!
- Shit!

Chest on the ground.

- Just shot me, motherfucker!
- Now!

Kick back your legs.
Cross your legs.

Point your toes. Cross
those legs, point your toes.

I want those hands out.

Hands out!

- Oh, shit.
- Sir, I've called an ambulance.

It's on its way.
You're gonna be fine.

- Arggh!
- Mother... Motherfuck...

Mother... Arggh!

- Shit.
- Don't move!

Or I'll blow
your fuckin' head off!

You gonna kill a cop? Huh?

You're not an officer.

You are not a police officer.

What? You're my escort?

How's the knee?

What kind of cop
leaves law enforcement

to work for a gangster?

Law enforcement?

Ain't you got eyes, man?
There's no such thing as law.

There's never been one
that can overcome man's nature.

There's incentive.

Men love two things -
pussy and power.

And Suge, he has both
and he gives them to men.

So he got the strongest thing
there is, right?

Man's weakness.

And he knows something
you don't.

Law enforcement
is made up of cops.

And a cop ain't nothin'...

..but a man.

I'll take it
from here, Detective.

Sir.

You wanna be a gangster, son?

We are a matchstick away from
bloodstained streets every day.

But what stops it?

Uniform.

People believe in it.

But LAPD have put so many
goddamn cracks in that belief

that people are starting to see

that the police can't even
police their goddamn selves.

You will not be another crack
in my force.

I believed
in the uniform.

I believed in the oath we took

to protect and serve
the people of Los Angeles.

I joined the LAPD
Rampart Division in 1994.

As an officer, did you
perpetrate illegal activities,

including robbery,
drug dealings and murder?

Yes.

Were other
LAPD officers involved?

Yes.

And I believe that
every member of the department

shared those same convictions.

We did it all.

We were a criminal organisation
within the LAPD.

We were a gang.

And what was the name
of this gang?

I believed Perez
was gonna confess his part

in the LAPD's corruption
by saying just two words -

'Death Row'.

Rampart.

I was wrong.

Let's reconvene in one hour.

So you're saying Rampart,

the greatest scandal
in LAPD history,

which implicated 70 cops
of corruption,

was a diversion?

Mr Ovando,
I... I want to apologise

for what I've done.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, it was bullshit,
and it eclipsed everything,

especially the Christopher
Wallace investigation.

Officer Gaines was linked
to the Wallace murder

and to Death Row.

But I was told not to look.

Officer Perez and Officer Mack
were linked to Death Row.

Once again,
I was told not to look.

But I had an ace up my sleeve.

The Gaines family was suing Lyga
and the department.

And I was the chief witness

for the defence
of Detective Lyga.

Gaines was a member
of the Rampart Division.

He was also an associate

of incarcerated officers
David Mack and Rafa Perez.

It's my belief
that these officers

are responsible for
the planning, cover-up

and the execution
of Christopher Wallace.

That's some very
explosive stuff, Detective.

A murder like that
only goes unsolved

if the police
don't want to solve it.

I can't bring that out.

But remember,
if Cochran gives you an opening,

when you're on the stand,
you can go there.

We were ready
for our day in court.

MAY 1999
COURT - EAST LOS ANGELES

The theory that LAPD cops
helped orchestrate

the murder
of Christopher Wallace

would become part
of the public record.

But they never let it
go to trial.

You cut a deal?!
My own team cuts a deal?!

You're poppin'!

I wanted to go in there.

Because this is my life!

MUNICIPAL OFFICE - DETACHED SECTION 262

Jack, it's 5am.
Clerk wants us out by 6:00.

What the fuck are we doin', man?

Now you've found something?

Eyewitnesses notice
a black sedan...

Most of the witnesses
think it was a Chevy Impala SS.

What are we looking at?
I don't get it.

I do.

OK, great. Are we done?

Yeah.

We're talking about truth.

And I've seen so many untruths

among these so-called officials.

My mother taught me
something about truth.

It's a poem.

She said, "Speak the truth
and speak it ever.

"Because he who hides
the wrong he did

"does the wrong thing still."

Hey, Jack.

Ms Wallace, this is, er, Jack.

- This is Ms Wallace.
- Hello.

I know who you are, ma'am.

20 years ago, I... I made
a false claim against your son.

And?

I was mistaken.

Well, it takes a big man to
admit that he makes a mistake.

You're a very kind woman.

- Would you mind?
- Please.

Jack, have a seat.

He's been very helpful.

- With the case?
- Yes.

I... I didn't think that you guys
would be on good terms.

- I mean...
- And why is that?

Well, I mean, you know,
your family's case

and... and using his theory
to support it,

and then it being dismissed.

Oh, no, the case
was not dismissed.

- It was a mistrial.
- Huge difference.

A federal judge caught the LAPD
hiding evidence

that linked Mack and Perez
to Christopher's murder

and declared a mistrial.

Now, here's the kicker -
the City of L.A.,

they reopened the investigation

because as long as it's
an ongoing investigation...

..that evidence stays
locked away in the dark.

So, we cannot sue LAPD

because they are investigating
the case.

I might... I might have
something here.

It's, um...
it's a search warrant

for Mack's Impala.

They found it
after you resigned.

You know, they pushed you
out of the force,

saying that your theory
has no merit,

and then they use your theory -
his theory - to go forward.

Ms Wallace, this has...

..been an unbearably long
and painful road for you.

I'm so sorry

that you've had to endure
all this.

You have nothing
to feel sorry about.

Because of you, I came this far.

- Hands behind your head!
- You wonder why we push back.

That's what you call a guy

who's in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

Our life
is meaningless to you

because you have the right
to kill us

based on your theory,
your perception!

And why? Because I'm
a young black male.

Present your wrists.

Don't resist.
You hear that, motherfucker?

You hear that?

The sound of sirens
used to mean

my brother officers were
on their way to assist me.

Might have been the sweetest
sound I ever heard in my life.

I was two weeks from my pension
when I resigned.

I lost my family

for a case
that I was unable to close.

And it's just not supposed
to happen like that.

We're at the top of the ninth.

Come on, Russ!

A crafty lefty on the mound.

Let's see what we got.
Here's the first pitch.

And they're playing third base.

He guns him out at first.

And we got two down.

Bases still loaded.

And there's a shot
in deep left field.

It's going back, back, back.

Russell...

Pick up the phone,
pick up the phone.

I was a beat cop
when you were here.

Always looked up to you,
Detective Poole.

Thank you.

Russ, if you're really going in,
I'm gonna go in with you.

We'll go in together, alright?

Just call me back or text me.

We still all talk
about you, sir.

And all the time here.

But I'm afraid
I can't help you, sir.

But please don't misunderstand.

Sir, these warrants, they're...
they're 20 years old.

Detective Poole?

Detective Poole?
Are you alright, sir?

Can I get you something?

Detective Poole!

Christ! Call an ambulance!

Detective Poole?
Detective Poole?

Can you hear me?

Stay with me, sir.

- Stay with me, Russ.
- Mr Poole, can you hear me?

- No.
- We got no pulse.

- He's gonna crash.
- Russ?

- Did anybody see him go down?
- Russ?

- What happened to him?
- All of a sudden.

He's crashing, guys.
Come on.

Heart attack, I think.

Russell Poole?

I'm Jack, a friend of Russ's.

You listen to me.
You don't have the right.

You don't have
the right.

You know what I'm saying.

You close the case, get
a promotion, the shiny object.

But then you start thinking
that you are the shiny object.

Come on down from the cheap
seats, look him in the eye.

Tell him...

.."I'm sorry."

Take some pretty good shots
at each other, don't we?

I'm done.

I'm a hack, alright?

I'm a hack

who forgot how to even do
the right thing.

So I know what
the wrong thing is.

Stay on this case.

Make your boy think that
that's all that you care about.

Then what was it all for?

What was it all for?

Front page, 'L.A. Times'.

That was one of the best pieces
I've ever read.

I know. It was good, wasn't it?

I got to say, Jack,
I'm proud of you.

We're working on
a new nightly segment.

We're gonna need
a recognisable face.

I can't work for a man

who's in bed
with the very institutions

that we should hold accountable.

We have to do better.

Will you accept my resignation?

KEVIN GAINES' FAMILY OBTAINED $250,000

FROM THE AGREEMENT
WITH LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT.

DAVIC MACK'S SENTENCE
WAS REDUCED TO 11 YEARS IN PRISON.

THE STOLEN $722,000 WAS NEVER RECOVERED.

RAFAEL PEREZ RECEIVED IMMUNITY
FOR THE CRIMES HE COMMITTED.

THE MURDER CASES OF CHRISTOPHER WALLACE
AND TUPAC SHAKUR REMAIN UNSOLVED.

MORE THAN 50% OF THE MURDER CASES
PERTAINING TO AFRICAN-AMERICANS

REMAIN UNSOLVED.

IN 2015, RUSSELL POOLE FAINTED AND DIED
IN THE LOS ANGELES SHERIFF DEPARTMENT.

HE WAS STILL WORKING
ON THE MURDER CASE OF CHRISTOPHER WALLACE.

♪ Oh, I dream filthy

♪ My moms and pops mixed me
with Jamaican rum and whiskey

♪ What a set-up,
shoulda pushed 'em dead off

♪ Wipe the sweat off, 'cause
in this world I'm dead off

♪ Squeeze lead off,
Benz sped off

♪ That's not all,
MCs have the gall

♪ To pray and pray
for my downfall

♪ Pray and pray for my downfall

♪ Pray and pray
for my downfall

♪ I was high when they hit me,
took a few cats with me

♪ Shit, I need the company

♪ Apologies in order
to T'yanna my daughter

♪ If it was up to me
you would be with me

♪ Sorta like Daddy dearest,
my vision be the clearest

♪ Silencers so you can't hear it

♪ Competition still fear it

♪ Shit, don't ask me

♪ I went from ashy to nasty
to classy

♪ And still... still... ♪

Pac is a strong dude, yo.

I know dudes. You know what
I'm saying? He real strong.

So when, like, he got shot,
I was just more like, "Again?"

You know what I'm saying?

He always getting shot
or shot at.

He gonna pull through
this one again,

make a few records about it,

and it's gonna be over,
you know what I'm saying?

But when he died,
I was just like, "Whoa."

I mean, even though we was
going through our drama,

I would never wish death
on nobody,

'cause there ain't
no coming back from that.

♪ This goes out to you

♪ This goes out to you

♪ This goes out to you,
and you, and you, uh

♪ Your reign on the top
was short like leprechauns

♪ As I crush so-called willies,
thugs and rapper-dons

♪ Get in that ass quick,
fast like Ramadan

♪ It's that rap phenomenon
Don Dada

♪ Fuck Poppa, you got to call me
Francis M.H. White

♪ Intake light tokes, tote iron

♪ Was told in shootouts,
stay low and keep firin'

♪ Keep extra clips
for extra shit

♪ Who's next to flip on that cat
with that grip on rap?

♪ The most shady, Frankie baby

♪ Ain't no telling
where I may be

♪ May see me in DC

♪ At Howard Homecoming
with my man Capone

♪ Dumbing, fucking something

♪ You should know my steelo

♪ Went from ten Gs for blow
to 30 Gs a show

♪ To orgies with hoes
I never seen before

♪ So, Jesus, get off
the Notorious's penis

♪ Before I squeeze and bust

♪ If the beef between us
we can settle it

♪ With the chrome and metal shit

♪ I make it hot
like a kettle get

♪ You're delicate,
you better get

♪ Who sent ya?
You still pedal shit

♪ I got more rides
than Great Adventure

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ On ya mark, get set,
when I spark, ya wet

♪ Look how dark it get
when you're marked for death

♪ Should I start your breath
or should I let you die

♪ In fear you start to cry,
ask why

♪ Lyrically I'm worshipped,
don't front the word sick

♪ You cursed it,
but rehearsed it

♪ I drop unexpectedly
like bird shit

♪ You herbs get stuck quickly
for royalties and show money

♪ Don't forget the publishing,
I punish 'em, I'm done with them

♪ Son, I'm surprised
you run with them

♪ I think they got cum in them

♪ 'Cause they nothing but dicks

♪ Trying to blow up
like nitro and dynamite sticks

♪ Mad, I smoke hydro,
rock diamonds, that's sick

♪ Got paid off my flow,
rhyme with my own clique

♪ Take trips to Cairo,
laying with your bitch

♪ I know you praying
you was rich, fucking prick,

♪ When I see ya
I'm-a kick in the door

♪ Waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more"

♪ Kick in the door,
waving the four-four

♪ All you heard was
"Poppa, don't hit me no more." ♪