Law & Order (1990–2010): Season 5, Episode 13 - Law & Order - full transcript

A smug African American stock broker who resents other people of his own race is accused of murder. However, he hires a high-profile civil rights attorney, who presents a "black rage" defense.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -
criminal justice system

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups,

the police who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.


So, which window's yours anyway?

All of them.

The two of you
live on four floors?

Well, Dad has a lot of clothes.

Are you sure I look okay?

You look fine.


This should give him a stroke.

Hello, guess who.


You actually live here? Hello.

Dad, are you home?

Oh, my God. Oh,
my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Wallace Holbrook. Shot in
the head. Who called it in?

His kid and her boyfriend.
Surprise road trip from college.

Can you imagine coming
home to something like this?

Where's the girl now?

In the kitchen. She's
pretty hysterical.

So, what can you tell us?

One very dead body

and one very expensive weapon.

Yeah, well, it doesn't
look like a robbery to me.

Gun between his legs like that,
I'd say he swallowed the barrel.

It's a Perazzi. Between 10 and 20
grand. They use it to hunt grouse.

I guess grouse
are out of season.

There's no way.

Miss Holbrook,

our people went over the
scene, and they tell us that...

Look, he's my dad, isn't he?

I'm telling you, there's
no way he'd kill himself.

Do you know where your mom is?

She died when I was 12.

You know, Krista, sometimes
dads hide things from their children.

Maybe other fathers.

He closed some kind
of big deal yesterday.

Wait a minute. You saying you
talked to him yesterday before...

In the morning.

He called to talk
about his trip to Europe.


He was supposed
to leave on Monday.

That's why I came home.


He was so excited. He hadn't
taken a vacation in two years.

There is no way my
father killed himself.

Well, Lennie, you get
Detective of the Week.

You're saying it
wasn't a suicide?

It was a murder.

And judging from digestion
of the stomach contents,

I'd say it happened
around 9:00 pm.

I'd also say the entire
scene was staged.

You can tell all that by
what he ate for lunch?

No, from the blood
lividity. Come here.

Mr. Holbrook's blood
settled in his back.

Now, if he was killed in the sitting
position in which you found him,

it would have gathered
south of the border.

This guy was stretched out for at least
30 minutes before he was propped up.

Okay, Rogers,
you're so brilliant,

how do you explain the blood
on the wall behind his head?

Well, that would be difficult if
the shot was the cause of death.

What, it wasn't?

Somebody grabbed your Mister
Holbrook from behind and snapped his neck.

The shot through the
mouth, it was just for show.

I heard this morning. Suicide.

God. I had dinner
with him last Tuesday.

So, what is it? You
want his personal effects?

No, I need to ask
you a few questions.

Was everything all
right around here?

For Holbrook, never better.

Who would ever guess that Fixed
Income could do more than a billion?

You're saying he
made $1 billion?

No. His department traded
paper worth that much.

That boils down to about
$400 million in profit.

Holbrook's bonus
came close to 15.

Does everybody around
here make that kind of money?

No, Holbrook's department
did particularly well last year.

Hell, one of his traders,
Bud Greer, 35 years old,

took home $7 million.

How did Holbrook
spend his money?

We make it. We
don't talk about it.

Twelve years. Nine hours a day.

I spent more time with Mr. Holbrook
than I did with my husband.

Pretty tough boss, huh?

Simon Legree, he wasn't.

But he was demanding.

Demanding enough
to make enemies?

Try everyone on this floor.

You sell door-to-door,
you wanna be liked.

You work on Wall Street,
you wanna be feared.

The more they
tremble, richer you get.

So, who around here
feared him the most?

You don't think that...

I don't know. No way.

I mean, these kids? Yeah,
maybe they hate the old man,

but give up the zeros he puts
on their paychecks? Uh-uh.

I don't think so.

Oh, okay. Well, yesterday,

did he have any after-work
appointments in his book?

Not that I knew about.
But he did leave early.

Canceled a meeting
with two of his traders.



26? Sure, buy 100
at 26. Back to me.

So he canceled a
meeting. What else is new?

I'm a junior trader, it's
not like I'm high-priority.

What's that mean? You only
make half a million this year?

I said junior, not stupid.

They tack on a half mill just
to put up with Holbrook's crap.

I take it you and he
didn't party together.

I only breathed the same air
as Wallace Holbrook if I had to.

I guess you're not exactly
brokenhearted then.

Let me tell you something
about that macho creep.

He had speakers installed so
he could publicly humiliate us.

"Do you need a
calculator, Mr. Boggs?

"You buy at 10, you sell at 8,
you lose money, Mr. Boggs."

The only guy who had an
easy ride was Bud Greer.

I have to ask you this.
Where were you last night?

On the phone with Tokyo till about 3:00
a.m. You can check my phone records.


He cancels a meeting,
I don't ask questions.

But it doesn't exactly
ruin your day, either?

Hey, I knew what I was getting
into when I chose this business.

Every day, it's pull down your
jockeys and take out the yardstick.

And if you haven't noticed, I
don't win that kind of contest.

And Holbrook does?

That's why he's
got the corner office.

Last night, you didn't happen to assemble
at his place for a late-night session?

Are you kidding? Me at Holbrook's
house? He wouldn't even share a cab.

Look, I'll save you
some time, okay.

The only one of us that rates
an invite to the palace is Bud.

Bud Greer? You know him?

Well, everybody's talking.

Why not? You do half billion in
trades, you get a seven mill bonus,

and you get invited to dinner.

Any chance you like any
of the guys you work with?

Give me a break, Detective.

There're only two kinds of men that
work on Wall Street. Standard and poor.

But I hear that peace
officers are a whole other story.

You got your yardstick handy?

Oh, I got my tape measure.

Let's go see Golden Boy.


Somebody's got to be pulling our
chains. You sure it wasn't East 45th?

Well, here it is. 2C.



GREER: Yeah. Police.

What is it you want?

Are you Bud Greer?

You work at Jenkins, Clay?

You're here about Wallace.

A man that talented. It's a shame,
really, but if you can't take the heat...

Excuse me?

What it is we do for a living.

Let's just say there's
a lot of pressure.

And Holbrook
couldn't take it, huh?

Isn't that obvious?

Well, did he say
anything, give a signal?

The last couple of weeks,
his trades were off maybe 10%.

His mind was definitely elsewhere.
You could say he was depressed.

Well, we're thinking
maybe it wasn't a suicide.

So, who was it?

Which one of my fair-haired
associates pointed the finger at me?

We're talking to everybody.

Although we were told you were the
only one who socialized with the deceased.


Any time I spent with
Wallace was pure work.

If those other cretins would
put in half the time I did...

Look, I was in his
house once in two years.

We spent three hours in his study
mapping out trading strategies.

That was six months ago.

BRISCOE: And last night?

I was at the office until 8:00.

"Jenkins, Clay and
Company, Trader of the Year."

Impressive. Thank you.

You ought to think
about spending some of it.

Thank you for your advice.

But for me it's not about
money, cars or apartments.

What is it about?


By the way, with Holbrook out of
the picture, who gets the power now?

Well, that would be
me, now, wouldn't it?

There's more testosterone at
Jenkins, Clay than at Gold's Gym.

Smart money says we're
walking down the right alley.

Great. There's gotta be,
what, 300 people down there?

More like 600, counting
secretaries and staff,

but we're running all the
names. Maybe we'll get lucky.

Oh, yeah. Maybe we might
as well run the telephone book.

You got anything better?

Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.

I say we bring in Mr. Bud
Greer. Put him through the ringer.

600 names, Mike, and we got
just as much on every one of them.

It's weird. This guy's got more money
than God, but he lives worse than I do.

Howard Hughes never clipped his toenails.
Got any homicides we can pin on him?

I don't trust him.

We got one winner, Lennie.

A Benjamin Greer. Assault
in '87. Charges dropped.

Thanks, Gia. Mmm-hmm.

Now I trust him less.

Check him out.

Yes. We hired Mr. Greer
for obvious reasons.

You have an affirmative
action program down here?

Not officially. Off the record.

We've got to be very
aware of appearances.

Oh, well, do you need
any sons of Killarney?

Sorry. Greer went to the right
schools, had an impressive resume.

We put him in Fixed
Income, good place to start.

Not much profit but
not much risk, either.

We heard he took
to it pretty well.

He increased sales
10 times in six months.

And made his bankers
very happy people.

He made all of us a lot of
money. Especially Holbrook.

LOGAN: Boy, Greer wants to go to Harvard,
and they throw out the welcome mat.

Greer wants a job, they
toss him seven million bucks.

You ever think maybe he
earned it the old-fashioned way?

Yeah, but he does all the work,
Holbrook makes twice the money.

That's called capitalism.

Man, it sure would piss me off.

Hey, Greer doesn't spend the bucks
he's got. Why would he want more?

It's not about money, remember?
It's about power. Oh, look at this.

What is this? They got no respect
anymore, these meter maids.

You know, it must be hell trying to
get a cab around here late at night.

I wonder if Greer used
the company car service.

You know how many
jobs I do for Jenkins?

Look, help us out.

He's a good-looking
guy, he's black, about 35.

Oh. Mr. High and Mighty.

You remember where
you dropped him off?

East 60s. And I was
glad to get rid of him, too.

Had the Knicks-Bulls
on the radio.

Oh, I remember. I lost
a half a yard on that.

They never cover the spread.

I had 100 riding on it.

But it made too much
noise for His Honor.

He asked me to turn it down,
and I said, "Come on, my brother..."

He said, "I ain't your
brother. Shut up and drive."


You got the exact address?

120 East 63rd.

The Holbrook place. Thanks.

Sorry, my mornings are hectic.

It seems like your
evenings are, too.

Excuse me?

Looks like you lied to us
about the other night, Bud.

I worked until 8:00.
Just like I told you.

Yeah, well, you didn't go home.

All right. Holbrook asked me to come
by to review the work of the other traders.

It's firing season.

And after that?

No one was home.
I waited 15 minutes,

then went to watch
the game at Diamond's.

Why'd you lie to us, Bud?

I didn't lie to you.

If you recall, I said I hadn't been
in Holbrook's house in six months.

A little career advice?
Nobody likes a smartass.

Look, I respected
Holbrook. He was my mentor.

And now, if you don't mind,
I'd like to get back to the floor.

Well, first, why don't you
tell us about your prior arrest.

1987 October. The 19th
to be exact. Ring any bells?

I didn't think so.

It was the day the market crashed
and burned. I was in equities then.

One of my clients thought he'd
take the correction out on my face.

He lost. Gentlemen.


Sure, he's here maybe three
nights a week. Mr. Club Soda.

How about Monday night?

Football game.

We were packed. Maybe
he was here. It's hard to say.

Did he hang out with
anybody in particular?

No, mostly, he's
quiet. Keeps to himself.

He used to bring a girl in from
the office, Joan something-or-other.

Blonde, about 5'6"?

And one hell of a temper.

Come again?

I haven't seen her for maybe six
months. I doubt old Bud has, either.

Last time they were here, we're
talking major blowout. She storms out.

He downs a couple
of Johnnie Blacks.

I didn't tell you
because you didn't ask.

We're asking now.

Are you still close? No.

On paper, he's the perfect man.

Harvard, Stanford MBA.
Seven-figure income.

And off paper?

(SIGHING) Right.
Nobody knows our Bud.

Once we came out of Shun
Lee, we're walking down Lex.

Couple of homeboys
come up to us,

start up about his Zegna
suit and his white chick.

Buddy pops his cork.
Slams the guy against a wall.

So, he was protecting
his lady's honor.

Who're you kidding?

The only honor Bud ever
protected was his own.

Did he get violent often?

You don't think that...

I don't know, but we're
checking on everybody.

Holbrook was his idol.

Hell, Ben... Bud Greer
wanted to be Wallace Holbrook.

So, what happened
between you two?


I got tired of hearing about
Nietzsche and the Übermensch.


Excuse me.

Yeah. Close it for a buck
and a half. Zegna suits?

They go for two grand a
pop. I really don't give a damn.

All I know is, you blow somebody away
with a shotgun, blood's gonna splatter.

And he did lie about
being at the crime scene.

Could be enough for a warrant.


I lived better than this
when I wasn't working.

LOGAN: Guy doesn't
even have cable.

We ought to hock one of
these and take a vacation.

There's nothing here. Maybe
somebody at the dump got real lucky.

Hey, take a look at this.

It's a memo to Mr. Holbrook
from Accounting.

"Per your request, enclosed please
find a record of all Mr. Greer's trades

"over the past two years." So?

It's dated two days
before the murder.

Your Mr. Greer's been a very busy boy.
Added verve to an otherwise dull business.

How's that? Greer's
trades aren't kosher.

We're talking about
phantom trading here.

Oh, take it easy, Kaplan.

I have trouble
with my checkbook.

Okay, look, Mike.

Let's pretend you're Greer.

You know Lennie wants an
apple three months from now.

You also know he'll
pay you three bucks for it.

Now, I got more apples
than I know what to do with,

so I'm willing to unload
this one to you today

for the bargain
basement price of $1.

So I buy it from you, sell it to him
in 90 days and pocket two bucks.

Exactly. Now everywhere
else on the planet,

you record your profit
when you receive the cash.

But Jenkins, Clay's accounting
system... It's a little new wave.

They record a $2 profit today,
when you buy it, not when you sell it.

Even though I don't have to cough
up the dough for three months?

That's right.

Only under Greer's
scheme, you don't really exist.

Most of his buyers
are fictitious.

So when the closing day rolls around,
he just pushes it back a couple of months.

And the profit's
already on the books.

And he walks away with a bonus based
on money that the firm will never collect.

What's that?

You took the Malcolm Forbes Home
Study in High Finance in your spare time?

Not exactly. We took a
crash course in bogus trades.

I'm sorry. You lost me.

Well, let me draw
you a map, Bud.

We've been through your files.

You've been blowing smoke up
your company's ass for two years,

taking bonuses you didn't earn.

And Holbrook found out.

So I stuck a rifle in his mouth?

It's a lot easier then giving
back a $7 million bonus.

I earned that money.

I worked harder and I'm smarter
than all the other kids on the block.

Well, you got your $2,000 suits,
and you got your hotshot degrees.

But from where I'm standing,

you're no better than some punk
who holds up a 7-Eleven store

then blows away the
cashier to cover his tracks.

I graduated summa
cum laude from Harvard.

Magna from Stanford Business.

I have 17 traders
working for me.

And I've booked almost $1 billion
in trades in the last two years.

Not only am I better than
your punk at the 7-Eleven,

I'm also a hell of a lot better
than you Detective Logan.


I wouldn't mind smacking
him in the mouth.

I'm thinking you'll get your
chance. Metaphorically, that is.

It appears Mr. Greer washed
up in Holbrook's bathroom.

We've got a partial
print on the sink.

Should have stuck to the
convenience stores, Bud.

Do your thing, Lennie.

Benjamin Greer, you're under arrest
for the murder of Wallace Holbrook.

You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you do say can and will be used

against you in a court of law.

$1 million bail, Jack? Don't you
think that's just a bit excessive?

I saw the pictures from the crime
scene, he should count his blessings.

Whatever. It's all gonna be back
in his money market soon enough.

I'm not talking deal, David.

Why in the world would I deal?

I didn't do anything.

We can put you at the scene
at the time of the murder.

We have a motive. No,
you think you have a motive.

The deceased was about to
pull the plug on $1 billion scam.

You don't have to be a genius...

But you do to get it admitted.

In seizing the financial records
from Mr. Greer's apartment,

the police clearly violated my
client's Fourth Amendment rights.

I'll see you in court, Jack.

The Fourth Amendment
requires that a search warrant

contain a particular description
of the items to be seized.

The warrant in question
describes bloody clothes.

There's no mention
of financial records.

Courts have consistently upheld
seizure of non-particularized items

when they were located in the
plain view of the police officers.

Well, unless detectives Briscoe and
Logan are from the planet Krypton,

the inside of a desk drawer
is hardly in plain view.

The warrant in this case specified
"clothes as well as any other items

"that tend to establish
the elements of the crime."

The Supreme Court in Anderson
held that such language was sufficient

for seizure of property
not itemized on the warrant.

The financial records seized by
the police relate only to motive.

Since when is motive
an element of the crime?

Mr. Solomon is correct,
the police crossed the line.

The financial
documents are excluded.

Yeah, well, I tell you, someone
ought to give our detectives

a crash course in Fourth
Amendment search-and-seizure law.

Maybe they took
some liberties, Adam.

They were investigating
a brutal homicide.

Nine out of ten defense attorneys
wouldn't have even noticed.

Yeah, well, this one did.

Without motive, you couldn't
convince a jury water's wet.

But if we can establish

that we would have inevitably
discovered the phantom trade...

And what psychic you planning
to call as your first witness?

You had no idea these
trades motivated the murder.

We're charging someone
with murder, right?

We would've been remiss if we weren't
prepared to challenge his credibility.

I've sat outside his
office for two years,

answering his phone
and typing his memos.

Yeah, he's wound
tight, but murder, no way.

He murdered Wallace
Holbrook, Miss Cooley.

You've got to put your
personal feelings aside.

My personal feelings
are none of your business.

That's my business.

Bud Greer did it. I don't
think he deserves your loyalty.

What do you want?

Is he close to
anyone at the firm?

Top moneymaker, you'd think
they'd hoist him on their shoulders.

Are you saying he's resented?

A year ago, I made the
mistake of wearing jeans to work.

Greer calls me in his office,

says, "This isn't Lennox Avenue.

"If you want to be a homey,
find yourself another job."

He resented you
because you're black?

You answer his phone. He must
get some personal phone calls.

Maybe once a
month his dad calls.

Most times, Bud
leaves him on hold.

Thank you.

Ben worked for me when
he was in high school.

A customer would come in for some
nails, Ben would sell him a power drill.

He's come a long
way from selling nails.

Selling is selling.

And look, Miss Kincaid.

The one thing I taught him is that
nobody's gonna hand you anything.

We're just as good as anybody. If
you want something, you work for it.

No welfare in this house.

It appears he's reconsidered.

Look, let me tell you
something about my son.

When he applied to Harvard, he wouldn't
check off the box that said he was black,

even though his guidance counselor
told him that it would make him a shoo-in.

No, if he was going to get in, it was
going to be because of what he did,

not who he was.
He made me proud.

Now, a kid like that doesn't
steal. He doesn't cheat.

He certainly doesn't kill. You
talk to anybody who knows him.

Well, if you can help me,
that's what I'd like to do.

There's a kid named
Price. Kenneth.

He's a doctor. Ben's
known him for a long time.

Yeah, sure, Bud and I grew
up together in Jamaica, Queens.

Do you stay in touch?

Well, we have dinner every couple of
months. Phone call every now and then.

Does he ever discuss business?

What he does for
a living bores me.

Anyway, I doubt I'd
understand it even if we did.

So, what do you talk about?

Well, a favorite topic
is the old neighborhood.

Specifically, about going back
and rubbing it in all of their faces.

You know, Revenge of the Nerds.

It sounds like Bud didn't
have a lot of friends.

You're looking at him.

In school, the white kids beat him up
because he was smarter then they were.

And black kids beat him up
because he was hanging out with me.

Looks like things don't change.

Well, I don't think
race is relevant here.

Aren't you naïve.

His father said Bud would never make
an issue out of the fact that he was black.

Of course he wouldn't.

It would give credibility to the
great white majority out there

who think that
blacks are inferior.

And by separating himself from the rest
of his race, he's saying they're right.

You don't get it. In his
head, he's not black.

He's just a guy who happens to be
smarter than 99% of the population.

Well, I guess he
wasn't smart enough.

I've known him for 30 years,
Miss Kincaid. He didn't kill anybody.

This is the first real
success he's enjoyed.

Why don't you just
leave him alone?

From his resume, we didn't
even know what color he was.

But when he showed up?

Well, number eight at
Stanford business school,

we'd have hired
him if he was green.

So, how'd he work out? C+.

We gave him every opportunity,
but he just didn't produce.

A year in Equities. Nothing. And
that was during the bull market.

So we moved him over to Fixed
Income Paper. A lot less pressure.

And there was no
improvement? Minimal.

I couldn't understand
it then and I still can't.

It was as if he had made it to
the top of the mountain and felt

he didn't have to do
anything to stay there.

So you fired him?

We're in business to make
money. We gave him five years.

We figured that was long enough
to avoid any potential lawsuits.

But you already excluded the
files found in Greer's apartment.

Because of the illegal search.

The State can now prove that it would have
inevitably discovered the same evidence.

Why, because he was
fired from his first job?

Because he was a
less-than-competent trader.

Enlighten me, Mr. McCoy.

Overnight, Mr. Greer went from
showing a minimal profit, at best,

to setting world
records in profits.

Well, he saw the light.
He's a late bloomer.

What does that have to
do with the murder trial?

I wouldn't have known. But you can bet
the ranch I would have wanted to find out.

So would I.

Surely our investigators would have
looked into Mr. Greer's trading practices

and evidence of his phantom trading
would have inevitably been discovered.

I agree. The financial records previously
excluded can now be considered by a jury.

He was at the scene,
we've got his fingerprints.

And with the phantom trades,
we've got motive. It's a hat-trick, David.

No, I still don't
see motive, Jack.

He was ripping off the company.

Holbrook found out.

Greer increased
profits by 10 times.

It's absurd to think that Holbrook
took two years to catch on to him...

Maybe he was slow.

And maybe he was greedy.

You know, he made $15
million because of my client.

I doubt very much he was going
to turn him in. Jury might buy that.

But I don't. Well...

If you're trying to talk
deal, I'm not listening.

Suit yourself. Come here. I
want you to meet somebody.

It's fine. We'll
counterclaim. Right.

Jerome Bryant. Yes, Mr. McCoy.

Your equal protection arguments in
front of the Supreme Court are classic.

Thank you.

And I'm more than pleased to tell
you that I've been retained by Bud Greer

to join his defense team.

This is a criminal case.

Unfortunately, Mr. McCoy,

when a black man seeks
justice in the white judicial system,

his civil rights are
usually violated.

In the last 10 years, Bryant has
found racial implications in everything

from house closings to
securities transactions.

Well, he's gonna have to do
one hell of a magic act here.

I'm not so sure about that.

Notwithstanding Jerome Bryant's
proclamations from the mount,

the entire judicial
system is not racist.

Mike Tyson, Michael
Jackson, O.J. Simpson.

This won't be the first time
that the State has been accused

of trying to bring down
a high-profile black man.

And in this case,
it's all nonsense.

Yes, if trials were about facts.

This is about convicting
one man of homicide.

Don't you wish...

Got news for you.

If enough people think it's
about racism, it's about racism.

I'm not dealing with the universal
problems of society, Adam.

Just one Class A felony.

Well, we may not have the opportunity.
Bryant's made a motion to dismiss.

It's been an exercise in racism
from the get-go, Your Honor.

The only reason the police focused
their investigation on my client

is because he's black.

The fact that he's guilty may
have had something to do with it.

Well, there were
hundreds of other suspects.

Nobody bothered to
look into their closets.

I hope you're not suggesting
that I dismiss the case

because the police
did a good job.

No, Judge, but I am saying
this entire investigation,

beginning with the search
of my client's apartment,

was motivated by racial
bias and is therefore illegal.

In fact, it's clear
this search warrant

would have never been
signed in the first place

if the suspect weren't black.

In Detective Logan's affidavit
in support of the warrant,

he described the suspect as, and
I quote, "a 35-year-old black man."

That's absurd. The affidavits were
sufficient without that description.

Then why did your detectives
feel it necessary to include it?

That's a good question.

Mr. Bryant, on Tuesday morning
you can present evidence of racial bias

in the search and/or
arrest of Mr. Greer.

And if he's successful?

I'll grant his
motion to dismiss.

And I suggest the police department
hire a damn good civil attorney.

Two other traders told us the
defendant was close to the deceased

so we thought it was expedient
that we talk to him ourselves.

What were the exact words spoken by these
other traders that led you to consider

Mr. Greer a suspect
in the murder?

Actually, we were just
following procedure.

So, prior to interviewing Mr. Greer,
he was not, in fact, a suspect?

LOGAN: That is correct.

Now, during the
initial interview,

what did Mr. Greer do or
say to change your opinion?

During the initial interview
there was nothing specific.

There were no eyewitnesses
to this murder, Detective.

Mr. Greer neither did nor said
anything to make you suspicious,

yet still you focused
your investigation on him.

He lied to us. He
had a criminal record.

He was arrested. The
charges were dropped.

Yes, but he was the only one...

Mr. Greer was the only black man

who worked for
Mr. Holbrook. Isn't that correct?

As far as I know.

So you figured if you dig deep
enough, you gonna find something.

That's ridiculous.

Oh, you think a
man's civil rights

are ridiculous? Objection.

Withdrawn. No more questions.

Did you check the criminal records of
the other traders at Jenkins, Clay as well?

Yes, I did a search of everyone
in Mr. Holbrook's department.

And as I tried to say before, Mr. Greer
was the only one with a previous arrest.

Thank you.

CALLAHAN: Mr. Bryant?

No more witnesses.

Then I'm afraid you haven't
come close to meeting your burden.

Motion to dismiss is denied.

Specious motions like that, you're
lucky your client makes seven figures.

Actually, I thought His Honor would
have cut me off long before he did.

I was just setting
the stage for the trial.

You still plan to
make race an issue?

I plan on making
it the only issue.

It's our notice to call an expert
witness. Dr. Bettina Osgood.

You're not saying
that Greer is insane?

After the way Jenkins, Clay treated
him, I'm saying he was justified.

But I'll live with insanity.

A lifetime of suffering the
indignities of a racist society,

eventually the
kettle boils over.

The experts call it black rage.

And we both know it's crap.

Oh, is it? Think
about it, Mr. McCoy.

If you wanted, you could spend
your entire life without having

any significant contact
with a black man.

First, that notion is absurd.

Second, it's
entirely irrelevant.

To you, maybe, because
you have an option.

But if Mr. Greer didn't want
to mix with the white man,

he would have to remain in
Harlem or Bedford-Stuyvesant

or South Central Los
Angeles. Like it or not,

this country is still
one big plantation.

And that makes it all right
for him to commit murder?

No. But a jury might
consider it an excuse.

I want my expert to examine him.

Hell, you can strip-search him
for all the good it's gonna do you.

The cream rises to the
top, it's as simple as that.

And the cream is
traditionally white.

They make the rules.
They set the standards.

So you found it
necessary to emulate them.

That's a bit of a simplification,
Doctor, don't you think?

Why don't you explain it to me?

I got into Harvard, everyone in the
class assumed it was because I was black.

I got a job on Wall Street, people
thought I was a window dressing.

Well, that's simply a
by-product of affirmative action.

In time it will disappear.

Affirmative action!

That's Jim Crow dressed
up in 20th-century liberalism.

The black man's inferior so
we've got to help him survive.

He's incompetent so
we'll give him a free ride.

It's okay if he's lazy and
ill-prepared, we'll take care of him.

You want the short course in the
history of race relations in America?

It all starts with white men

trying to protect white women
from the big bad black man.

It was the prime argument
in favor of segregation.

And it's what made lynching
an honorable diversion.

We've come a
long way since then.

Don't kid yourself, Doctor.
People are still scared.

And fear begets hate.

And hate is the one common ground
between black and white society.

So that justifies your
hatred of white society?

No, it justifies my
contempt for both.

I've examined your
client, Mr. Bryant,

and I can't imagine any
legitimate psychiatrist

testifying that he was insane.

Isn't this nice, three white folks
sitting around judging a black man.

His whole life he's been separating
himself from the black community,

and as soon as it suits him he
raises a gloved fist over his head.

I know all about you,
Mr. Greer. You're a con man.

First you conned Wall Street and
now you're trying to con Court Street.

We'll just have to see what a
jury thinks about that, won't we?

Let's go, Bud.

Well, I can see why he
wasn't well-liked at the firm.

You've never had
to walk in his shoes.

You mean his Guccis.

The guy is filled with
greed and ambition.

Which goes a long way on
Wall Street if you're white.

Greer's had white values
shoved down his throat.

He had to accept them to feel successful.
It makes for a lot of self-loathing.

Oh, that's great. What?


I still don't like Greer. Only
now I've gotta feel guilty about it.

Bud Greer didn't want to
take over the department.

He wanted to be
head of the whole firm.

Was that a realistic ambition?

With the profits he was showing,
it might have happened eventually.

JACK: How long is eventually?

The firm works
on strict seniority.

He wasn't going anywhere
until Wallace Holbrook retired.

Or died?

Or died.

Miss Stillman, please explain to the
court what is meant by Casual Day.

It was a plan instituted
by Mr. Holbrook.

Fridays every summer,
traders weren't required

to dress in their
normal business clothes.

Did Mr. Greer take
advantage of this dispensation?

Well, that became a
big joke around the firm.

The one time he
came in wearing khakis,

a security guard
thought he was a busboy

and made him enter the
cafeteria through the kitchen.

And how did Mr. Greer react?

He read the guard the riot
act, had him fired that afternoon.

about his coworkers?

They left dirty dishes on his
desk when he wasn't there.

COOKE: In the years before
Mr. Greer joined the firm,

the largest bonus received by
Mr. Holbrook was $1.2 million.

Last year, it was $15 million.

And he didn't think that
this was cause for suspicion?

It was cause for celebration.

Look, Holbrook was not the
best supervisor at the firm,

and maybe he should've looked a little
closer at some of Greer's transactions.

But if you're asking me if I think
Holbrook would have accepted a bonus

based on ill-gotten gains,
my answer is an unqualified no.

Thank you.

How many times have you
played golf with Mr. Greer?

I can't say that I've
ever had the pleasure.

How many times did you and
Mr. Greer eat lunch together?

I run an investment
bank, sir. I'm very busy.

But last week

you had lunch
with Miss Stillman,

Mr. Boggs, Mr. James,

Ms. Appel, Mr. DeSoto.

They're all traders in
your firm, aren't they?

I see what you're getting at.

They're all Caucasian
traders, isn't that right?

Yes, they are.

Now tell me, Mr. Cooke,

why weren't you too busy
to break bread with them,

but you couldn't
squeeze out 45 minutes

for a man who brought
over $1 billion into your firm?

I didn't like him, sir.
He's smug. He's arrogant.

And he's black.

The black man in America
is estranged from society.

He's been taught in school that he's
equal yet he cannot help but realize

that he's different.

BRYANT: And what is the
source of those feelings, Doctor?

History. First selling the
black man into bondage,

then America prospering on
the backs of black laborers,

and then a changing technology
usurping the need for physical labor.

It often leads to feelings of
uselessness and isolation,

which in turn leads to self-hatred.
Unfortunately, it's very common.

And how does this
self-hatred show itself?

Well, eventually it's redirected
outward toward their tormentors.

Some individuals can't help but lash
out at the symbols of their torment.

In this case, Wallace Holbrook?

That's correct.

Thank you.

What about Holocaust
survivors, Doctor?

Or Cambodian refugees?
Or Soviet dissidents?

They were persecuted. Are they
also entitled to kill their bosses?

You can't equate the
history of blacks in America

with that of the Jews or
Cambodians or Soviets.

They weren't brought here in
chains. Their children weren't sold.

I see. So that makes black men
less capable of exercising self-control.

That is the very attitude that
feeds the racism in this country.

Yes, Doctor.

And it's you who are giving
all the bigots in this country

the justification for
their fear and hatred.

No one ever expected
me to show a profit.

They just wanted my
picture in their annual reports.

What happened when
you did in fact make money?

The consensus was that I was
the luckiest guy on the trading floor.

It was inconceivable to them
that I could actually play their game

and beat them at it.

The night of the murder, did you have
a conversation with Wallace Holbrook?


He had received a memo from
Accounting detailing all of my trades

over the past two years.

He was laughing at me.

He said he knew that a
nigger couldn't do it honestly.

And what did you do?

I don't remember. I just remember
him lying on the floor dead.

Sir, what would have
happened if Wallace Holbrook

had exposed your phantom trades?

I would have had to
return my bonus money.

$10 million.

The money is irrelevant.

I left it in their bank account.
I never spent a penny of it.

You weren't concerned
about larceny charges?

There was little chance of that.

They wouldn't want their
shareholders to find out how easy it was

to manipulate the system.

I would have had to
leave the firm, period.

I suspect being fired
would have been humiliating.

Do you know what
Wallace said to me?

He said that I should
go back to the jungle

and steal coconuts from monkeys.

That is humiliating, Mr. McCoy.

Hell of a performance.

Yeah, he has the right
audience. Eight black jurors.

I give them more
credit than that.

I mean, just because Bryant condescends
to them, doesn't mean we have to.

Nobody's condescending
here, young lady.

Wait a minute.

You're not saying there's any
validity to this black rage defense?

No, I'm saying that
intellectually it's easy to dismiss.

Emotionally, Ben Greer
may have struck a major chord

with a lot of the jurors.

So let me get this straight.

The only way it's possible for a black
man accused of killing a white man

to get a fair trial is to
have an all-white jury?

I'll call the Senate. We need
a constitutional amendment.

I don't like your implications.
I don't need the sarcasm.

Cut a deal. Put an end to it.

If we cut a deal, we'll be saying
to anybody who has an ax to grind

that they've got a
license to kill at random.

No, we're saying we want
murderers behind bars.

So what are we
talking about, Jack?

Man one. He does the max.

You've got to be kidding.

He's admitted he
killed Holbrook.

It's a gift. A gift?

A gift would be erasing
200 years of history.

You're starting to
believe your client's press.

GREER: You're lucky, Mr. McCoy.

In your life, it doesn't matter
that we live in a racist country.


Yes, really.

You play at being civilized,
colorblind. But it's all a fraud.

My life is the
quintessential case in point.

No one owes you an apology.

I'm not looking for one. And
I'm not looking for a deal, either.

You know what? I'm glad.

No, you should be scared.

You see, you've
always crossed the street

every time a couple of hip-hopping
ghetto boys walk toward you

but now,

every time a nigger in a $2,000
suit sits next to you at lunch,

you'll clench your fists a little
tighter, breathe just a little bit deeper.

If nothing else, now the world
knows that he's just as angry

and just as likely to explode.

You don't scare me, Mr. Greer.
But you do disgust me.

You're nothing but a thief and a
murderer hiding behind your race.

On the sole count of the indictment,
Murder in the Second Degree,

how do you find?

We find the defendant,
Benjamin Greer, guilty.


The Times says
Greer's going to appeal.

He'll have to find a
mistake of law first.

Well, he's hired three
more attorneys to help him.

Jack, that man was
here before we were.

You getting in or what?