Malarek (1988) - full transcript
Based on Victor Malarek's best-selling autobiography, this is the extraordinary true story of a streetwise kid who emerges from a violent and unjust background to become a top journalistic reporter. The gunning down of an unarmed juvenile by a trigger happy cop leads the young reporter, Victor Malarek, into an investigation of the local detention center and its record of suspicious deaths.
♪♪
♪♪
[telephones ringing]
[typewriters clacking]
[man speaking
indistinctly on television]
...to organize
a gigantic celebration.
From both refugee and
training camps, from schools,
30,000 Palestinians have come, men, women and children--
Thanks, Malarek.
[snaps fingers,
mutters obscenity]
[telephone ringing]
No, no, no, no.
Chris, we really missed the boat
on that-- article.
I compared it with all the
other papers this morning.
It's shit.
Okay, I want the religious
programs from schools,
that should go third page,
bottom right perhaps, okay?
[man speaking French]
So what you want?
You always want something.
Well, what about
my appointment?
What appointment?
My appointment with the lady.
I'm sorry, Victor, you
can't have an appointment.
She's too busy.
Lose that.
I don't want to have
anything to do with that.
What are these
invitations for?
They're not for you,
come on.
Come on-- Victor.
Yeah.
Right.
Bye.
If you don't have
something to do,
you could clean the toilets.
Did you miss again or what?
You got a lot of lip,
Malarek.
Oh, yeah?
[playing jazz]
[chatter and laughter]
Good afternoon, sir.
May I see your invitation?
Yes, thank you...
No, I got...
[music continues]
Champagne, monsieur.
[glass breaks]
What are you doing here,
cream and sugar?
You don't serve the coffee
till later.
Who's got the beer?
Private stock.
I didn't know this was
a costume party, Malarek.
I didn't either.
[chuckles]
[music stops]
Ladies and gentlemen,
distinguished guests,
friends, reporters.
Welcome to our home.
I'm not one
for making speeches
except perhaps
on the editorial page,
but, uh, Christine and I
would like to thank you
very much
for coming here today.
This has always been
a family newspaper
and you needn't be afraid
to let your 10-year-old
turn to page three.
[men chuckling]
And it's been in my family
since 1821.
What better way to celebrate
our 150th anniversary
than to have you all
here with us today,
the extended family
of "The Montreal Tribune."
Thank you very much.
Have a very good time.
[applause]
Now listen, don't forget
Friday, okay?
[music resumes]
Hi.
I'm Victor.
Victor Malarek.
Yes.
You sort the mail.
What are you doing here?
Do you mind if I sit?
No, why don't you sit?
You know, I've been trying to
get an appointment with you
for the longest time.
No-- I'm trying to quit.
[chuckles]
I've been trying to get
an appointment with you.
Yes.
I'm sorry.
The job.
Look, I can speak French
and I studied journalism.
My uncle's a reporter.
I never come late.
Work seven days a week.
I can type-- kinda.
I have, uh, I have
some writing samples
that I brought along.
I think that you could
use a guy like me
out in the street.
Wow, you're beautiful.
You wrote these?
I... typed it.
It's a joke.
[chuckles]
Hey, Claire.
Kid.
Party's really improving.
Look over there.
Moorcraft's daughter
must be 15.
Any minute now,
Mrs. Moorcraft's
going to have his balls
flambéed for dessert.
Dan, we were just
discussing a job for Victor.
On crime beat?
Did he get it?
Yeah.
[chuckles]
Welcome to
the horror show, kid.
You better play lousy poker.
♪♪
[boy]
Come on, come on!
Come on, man, let's go!
[continues shouting]
[boy screaming]
Hey!
Hey! Get off!
Get off, man!
Get off me!
Let's go, Gray!
I had to make it look real.
[other boys shouting]
♪♪
[guard]
Stop!
[siren wailing,
alarm ringing]
Let's go, Gray.
Let's go!
[chatter]
There was
this Chink madam--
Oh, God, Roch.
85 and still
turning tricks.
Last year
she was 75.
It was a rough year.
[laughter]
[man on scanner]
Fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner of Brudelle.
Repeat, fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner Brudelle.
Who wants a card?
One.
Give me two.
One.
Five.
Five?
Fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner Brudelle.
Car 17-2, Car 17-8.
Repeat, Car 17-2, 17-8.
Come on,
whose turn is it?
It's a slow night.
You gotta print
something.
I'd like to do it.
He's been here two weeks.
He's ready.
Right, cream and sugar?
Absolutely.
Got this, got the pens.
[laughter]
Just don't burn
your fingers.
[men]
Oh...!
Malarek to the rescue!
♪♪
To all cars, four-alarm fire
in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner of Brudelle.
Repeat: to all cars,
four-alarm fire in a warehouse.
2600--
[sirens wailing]
All right!
♪♪
All right!
Come on.
Shit!
[officer firing]
You shot him!Get back!
I'm a reporter
with "The Tribune"!
Get the hell
out of here-- move!
You killed him,
you bastard.Get back!
Get this scum out of here.
[snoring]
Tough night, huh?
Good morning.
Morning.
You screw up a cop
with a story like this,
without all your facts down,
you're finished.
He killed that kid
in cold blood.
You don't even have
the name of the deceased.
Well, they wouldn't
give it to me.
Collete, get Roch in here.
I was at the cop shop.
I saw the piece.
Kid didn't have a gun.
You need glasses,
cream and sugar?
I saw the evidence.
The other cop is a witness.
No, the other cop
came later, Roch.
What was the kid--
deceased's--
Forget it.
Come on, man.
What is it?
I don't know.
Come on,
I know you got it.
Please.
Chris Bachus.
And the other one
that got away was Gray.
Gray White.
They escaped from the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre.
♪♪
Ever hear of it?
Lots of things
you never heard of.
Look, maybe--
maybe they were lying.
But your word against
two cops is balls all.
No, there was no gun.
Absolutely no gun, sir.
Where is
the other constable?
He's on sick leave, sir.
[scoffs]
Mr. Malarich--
Malarek, sir.
Malarek.
Both officers have stated
there was a great deal
of smoke and dust.
Yes, there was, sir, but I was
able to see very clearly--
there was no gun.
Do you wear glasses?
Excuse me?
Do you wear glasses?No.
Were you able to see
both the young man's hands?
Yes, sir.
Where were his hands?
They were at the end
of his arms, sir.
[snickers]
Well, were they
behind his back or,
or did he have them
in his pockets?
From your view--
Sir, let me tell you
something, sir,
with all respect.
The kid that he shot
didn't have a gun
until the day
after his burial.
Now that is pretty weird,
don't you think?
[bawdy music playing]
[music continues]
[whistling and cat-calling]
Oh, mama, where do you live?
Hey, pisshead.
Long time.
You look good.
Scumbag Marroni,
you look good too.
Been outta jail six months.
Personal best.
Who is this guy?
It's all right.
This is Clayman, Cutter,
Stupidinski.
Stubinski.
Your brother
still in the army?
Marroni, I gotta talk to you.
You're a what?
Reporter.
Where did we go wrong
with you?
You know, you know what a
newspaper is, right, Marroni?
Yeah, I've had
my name in a few.
What do you want
from me anyway?
Fucking in-depth interview?
Look, I'm looking for a juvie.
His name is Graham White.
Guy escaped from the
Juvenile Detention Centre.
I tried 18 fucking months
to escape from there.
They do it younger now, man.
Listen.
Can you find him
for me or what?
What, you into
young boys now, Malarek?
Listen, just find him.
Find him for me and tell him
that he can trust me,
all right?
You do that, but don't tell him
how you know me, okay?
Marroni, you owe me one.
You owe me 10.
So, you'll play poker
on Friday?
Sure.
We need someone else
to lose their money.
So?
Didn't believe a word I said.
They actually showed me a gun
and said, "Hey, is this
the gun you didn't see?'
You believe that question
or what?
Guy probably got, like,
a confession from
a corpse or something.
Yeah, Victor Malarek.
[Gray]
Uh, yes, is this
Victor Malarek?
Yes.
Um... I heard you wanted
to talk to me.
Look, this is what
you're gonna do.
You're gonna go
to Central Station
and you're gonna wait
on the north side.
Gate 22.
And then you're gonna...
Yeah, yeah?
[dial tone buzzing]
♪♪
[man on p.a.]
Train now leaving
for Toronto, Detroit, Chicago,
Baton Rouge, New Orleans.
Train now leaving
for Toronto, Detroit, Chicago,
Baton Rouge, New Orleans.
♪♪
[telephone ringing]
Yeah.
Where are you?
♪♪
What is this,
"Mission: Impossible" or what?
Just wanted to make sure
you were alone.
I'm alone, Gray.
You can trust me.
I'm your side, okay?
Now you wait there.
Gray, can you hear me?
♪♪
[sighs]
[horn honks]
Come on!
Hey, what'd you
call me here for?
[glass shatters]
[man and woman
yelling and arguing]
Frank, no!
[screams]
Where'd you meet him, huh?
Where'd you meet him?
No! No!
No!
No, please.
[screams]
Victor, go to bed.
Just go!
[screams]
[telephone ringing]
Hello?
[phone clicks]
Hello?
Hey.
[dial tone buzzing]
♪ Bom bom bom, bom bom,
bom bom ♪
♪ Bom bom bom,
bom bom, bom bom ♪♪
[laughs]
You should see the look
on your face right now.
Hey! Hey, it's mine!
Do something like that again,
I'll make your backbone
look like a pretzel,
you understand?
Out.
Hey, man, I thought
you wanted to talk to me.
Out!
'Cause I have other
appointments, you know?
Make it fast.
Just shut the door.
Shut the door!
[horn honks]
Ask me anything.
I'm a fucking genius.
Hey, man, relax.
It was just a joke.
[laughs]
Okay. All right.
When that black kid
was killed by the cops,
did he have a gun?
I need a hundred bills.
Hey, so do I and so does
the rest of the world.
Okay?
Did he have a gun?
I'm a fugitive.
I need some legal tender.
Ow.
Was he armed?
Was he armed when you guys
escaped from
the Detention Centre, man?
No, man.
What about the gun that was
stolen from the guard?
He didn't steal it.
How do you know that?
'Cause I did.
[firing, laughing]
Whoa!
You punks, man.
You punks
think you're so tough.
He's a kid! A criminal!
And you don't have
the experience.
The dead kid
doesn't have the gun
'cause this kid's got it--
I saw it.
He could have had another
and your guy didn't know.
Your guy could be
lying, maybe.
Maybe the cops
are lying, Claire.
Trust me,
I know what I'm doing.
You never trust anyone
in this business.
That's the first rule.
The second rule is you
always follow your hunches.
Okay, but I want to
hear this firsthand.
I want to meet this kid.
No, I can't do that.
Then you can forget it.
You wanna pursue this, fine,
but I double-check.
Okay.
I'll arrange it.
He's staying at my place.
Hold on.
I don't know
where he's staying.
I don't even know who he is--
you got that?
And get him
out of your apartment.
I know what I'm doing.
[phone rings once]
It's a signal.
Just bear with me.
♪♪
[thunder booms]
♪♪
[man on TV]
Morning.
How you feeling this morning?
Hello there, Billy Goat.
Hi there, little Susie Lamb.
Let me climb over here,
I'll talk to you a little bit.
There we go.. ah.
Well, good morning there.
Say, here's a little lamby.
Oh, let me pick you up
and let all the boys and girls
take a nice good look at you--
This the Malarek place?
Say good morning
to the boys and girls.
Say, "Good morning,
boys and girls."
Are you the little lamb
that followed Mary to school?
Your father h--
[snoring]
All right,
which one are you, huh?
Freddy or Victor?
Come on.
Get your jackets.
Who are you?
I'm a social worker.
Nice little lamby, isn't he?
You guys are going away
for a little while.
Till your father
can get some rest.
Where's Mummy?
She's getting patched up.
She'll be okay.
Where?
She's in the hospital.
Come on.
Come on, get your jackets.
Come on.
♪♪
[kisses,
father mutters]
[thunder booms,
door opens]
My boss waited
an hour for you.
She waited an hour
for you, man!
You know what that
made me look like? Huh?
I was there, man.
She never showed up.
I was there!
So was I.
Fucking cops.
Where are we going?
I never said
I'd talk to nobody.
Only you.
Where are you taking me?
The Detention Centre.
Come on, where are we going?
I'm getting rid
of you fast, man.
All right?
Where do you want to go?
You wanna go to your
parents' house or what?
I don't even remember them.
Then where?
Your place.
[scoffs]
Where?
I have nowhere.
Why the hell
do you think I'm here?
[brakes squeal]
Where, man?
Come on, come on.
Out, man.
Stupid.
Didn't you learn
anything at the home?
I say a cop killed
an unarmed kid,
when they get a hold of me,
they're gonna kill me, man.
Who told you
I was at the boys' home?
I ain't stupid.
I could have been
a reporter too.
Was it Marroni?
I don't divulge my sources.
♪♪
[social worker]
You'll like the home.
You'll be together.
Boys are all pals.
They got a playground,
a music program.
All kinds of stuff.
♪♪
So what do you know
about the home?
Everything.
I'm in for car theft.
I got two years.
He robbed a store.
What about you?
Well, I'll be here
for a few weeks,
till Mom gets a job.
Oh, Mommy.
She dumped you.
You're not gonna
see her again.
No, she loves me.
She loves you?
Kid's fucking retarded.
You know where you came from?
Well, my mother
and father wanted me.
Yeah...?
And, well, they prayed to God
to send down an angel--
[boys laugh]
You know how you got here?
You know how?
I'll tell you.
Your parents
had a good hard fuck.
[boys laugh]
Hey, a brawl!
A big one!
Hurry!
[boys shouting and cheering]
Help, help,
somebody help him! Help!
You stool, we'll kick
your knees up your nose!
♪♪
[crying softly]
Tomorrow I'll lend you
some money
so you can buy a ticket to
Vancouver or something, okay?
So what were you
in the Detention Centre for?
This other guy
pulled some scores.
Who was that, Bachus?
No, Petrucci.
He's dead too.
How?
Hung up.
Where?
Detention Centre.
I saw them cut him down,
then throw him down
a flight of stairs, you know,
to make it look
like an accident.
You saw that?
Happens all the time, man.
The cops know.
Then this other guy, Mahoney,
same bullshit.
Jesus.
You're not kidding, are you?
No, man.
Then there was this one girl--
really nice girl-- I saw her.
I saw--
Wait a second.
Wait, wait.
You lost me here.
How could you see a girl
from the--
the girls building there?
In the infirmary.
She slit her veins
with a broken light bulb.
They're always
bringing stiffs out.
You're not
bullshitting me, are you?
This look like bullshit?
Whoa, man.
They did that with a cigar
'cause I wouldn't bend over
for some guard.
If I had a bazooka,
the place would be
a parking lot.
So there's suicides, man.
You'd have to be crazy
not to kill yourself
in one of those places.
Oh, it's--
It's everything, man.
So that cop
that killed your friend
is just the tip
of the iceberg.
Whoa!
Let's nail
this whole system, man.
♪♪
[knock at the door]
Oh, Victor!
Hello, hi!
Hi.
Mom, this is Graham White.
And Graham White
is an escaped juvie.
Oh.
I'm sorry to do this
to you, Mom,
but I was wondering
if he could stay here
a couple of days.
Come. Sit. Sit.
Sit down.
Move over a little more.
You boys hungry?
I could warm up some holubtsi.
You would like some?
Sure.
Okay.
What's she talking about?
You are in
Ukrainian heaven now.
Guaranteed
five pounds per week.
Yeah, I was wondering
if you people had any
statistics there on suicides,
you know, at the detention
centers there?
[woman]
No, of course not.
Well, Mrs. Menden
at Social Affairs said you did.
Well, I couldn't
give them to you.
Don't you realize juveniles
are protected by law?
Well, uh, it's too bad
you didn't protect them
when they were alive, huh?
♪♪
[woman]
Rosanne, your parole officer
said she'll be late.
Yes?
Yeah, I have an appointment
with Mr. Banks.
Victor Malarek,
"Montreal Tribune."
Mr. who?
Mr. Banks.
No, no, no, no--
what's yourname?
Victor Malarek.
Louise, I have a Mr. Malarich
here to see Mr. Banks.
So, you getting released?
Group home.
Oh, it's better than
this scuzz box, right?
Listen, did you know the girl
inside, she died last January?
Marie?
Yeah.
You wouldn't know
her last name, would you?
Did you know how she died?
You really a reporter?
Yep.
The real thing.
See, pens here.
[intercom buzzes]
Where'd she live?
[woman]
I'll tell him that.
Where do you live?
I'm sorry.
Mr. Banks' secretary
said she told you
they were unable
to grant you an interview.
No, no.
I called back and
they told me to come today.
You like that gum, huh?
He says he has
an appointment.
Tell me, you didn't know
what school she went to
or the name
of her social worker--
You have no appointment,
but he'll see you anyway.
Wonderful.
[gate buzzes]
Mr. Malrich.
Come on in.
Sit down.
You know, I'm always happy
to, uh, get a chance
to chat with the media--
off the record, of course.
I understand that you've been
asking a lot of questions.
No, I just want to know
a few things.
Ah, well, I was wondering.
You know, some of our boys
broke out last Tuesday
and I was wondering
if you know where they are.
No, I don't.
Hmm.
Well, you know,
those boys are in trouble.
They need our help.
I mean, nobody would know
that you talked to me.
Don't worry.
Sir, there was a girl,
she committed sui--
You don't know
where Graham White is?
George Giroux?
Dennis Valard?
No, but I know where
the black kid Chris Bachus is.
♪♪
Sir, I'd like to ask you--Hold it.
Do you know
what happens to people
who help escaped juveniles?
Yeah.
Isn't it two years
or something?
Yes.
Well, I'm sorry, this is
a facility for minors
and I can't talk
to the press, so goodbye.
Sir, there was a girl.
She died here last Jan--I said goodbye.
What was her first name?
First name was Marie.
I advise you to get out of
here before you're thrown out.
What are you hiding?
What are you afraid of?
Louise, call
the guards, please.
Come on, Banks.
What about Paul Mahoney?
What about Al Petrucci?
This is a death trap here.
Throw this man out, please.
You know, I know
what goes on here, man.
I'll crucify you!
I'll crucify the whole
fucking stinking place!
Shit.
Shit!
I can't believe
these guys, man.
♪♪
Victor, what are you doing?
Oh, I wanted to see
if the window works.
It works just fine.
What is happening, Victor?
Are you in trouble?
Me, Ma? No.
I'm not in trouble.
Don't worry.
Hey, come on, drop your hose,
put your socks on your toes.
Come on, let's move.
Hey, I was sleeping.
You're not safe here, buddy.
Victor, you call me.
Okay.
Okay, okay.
[banging on door]
Pisshead.
What's with the gun?
Thought maybe you were
an account payable.
What's with the chicks
on the wall?
Oh, you don't like 'em?
Hey, Mal.
To the Queen.
Sorry, I messed up
your... carpet.
[laughs]
Gray's staying here, okay?
He's hot.
Well, yeah.
So's half the shit
in this place.
I thought you
gave that stuff up.
I'm into retail now.
I'm a fucking freelance
department store.
Yeah, right.
Look, Gray's staying here.
You owe me one, remember that.
I paid that one back 20 times
already, Malarek, okay?
Hey, look at this.
Well, you're going to
continue paying me back.
Okay.
You get me one of those, um...
police car radio things
your people use.
Then we have a deal.
You want a police scanner?
I'll get you one,
but I don't know
where you're going to put it.
So I get to babysit
an escaped juvie, huh?
Hey, kid,
take out the garbage.
Hey, what's with
the fucking rats, man?
They ain't fucking rats,
they're human beings!
People are rats, okay?
And watch
your fucking language.
Hey, Gray.
What?
Relax.
This kid's
from the home too.
Do they teach assault
at journalism school now?
Pardon?
Mr. Banks from the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre
says you attacked him today.
I got a tip on a cover-up.
Oh, the kid again?
No, another source.
Adult?
Yep.
So what is it?
What's the cover-up?
Suicides at
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Victor...
murder is a story.
Escape is a story.
If those kids had
put on "Romeo and Juliet"
for the old folks,
now that's a story.
But suicides?
It's depressing.
No one gives a shit.
No one gives a shit?
I give a shit, Claire.
The suicides
aren't the point here.
It's what leads them to do it.
Which is?
Well, everything.
This whole system.
The social workers, the foster
homes, these old centers.
I mean, you get one toe
in there, Claire,
you get marked for life.
You're finished.
That's the point.
Victor, you have to learn
how to be a reporter.
Chase the fire engines.
Six months from now,
you'll get on a good story.
Trust me, okay?
You don't trust anybody
in this business.
[both chuckles]
Claire, I'm on to
something here.
Yeah.
Unemployment.
Drop the story.
Four weeks ago,
you were delivering coffee.
Watch it.
Don't worry
about Claire, Victor.
She's a broad.
She needs to show
she got balls.
No.
I need a name.
Her first name is Marie.
She died at
Juvenile Detention Centre.
What's the story?
I can't say.
I'll see what I can do.
You wouldn't have
any coffee, would you?
[television playing]
♪♪
[television continues]
Hey, you're out of beer, man.
The cops are
following me, you know?
Come on.
Where'd you get the jacket?
It's sharp, eh?
It's like yours.
You shoplifting or what?
I didn't shoplift.
Where'd you get the money?
From Marroni or what?
Did you rip off Marroni?
Move, man.
Come here.
Boys from the home don't steal
from each other, you understand?
If you don't know that,
you're a piece of worm shit.
Hand it over.
I can't.
It's evidence.
You want it so badly, man?
You want that so badly?
Take it and walk right now
'cause I don't give
a shit about you.
Get the fuck out.
Didn't have
any bullets anyway.
♪♪
Come on, we'll settle this
with Marroni.
Come on.
He tried to bugger me, man.
[knock at the door]
Police, open up.
♪♪
[knock at the door]
Police, open up.
[knocks again]
Open up or we're coming in.
You Victor Malarek?
We're looking for a juvenile
named Graham White.
Do you know where he is?
No.
Can we look around?
[man announcing
hockey game on TV]
What's the score?
I don't know.
I was in the can.
If you're the only one here,
why such a big pizza?
'Cause I was hungry.
Why two glasses?
'Cause the maid
forgot to clean up.
Don't forget
to check the oven.
You eat too much
of that stuff,
you're gonna get fat
when you get old.
Harboring an escaped juvenile
is a serious offense.
That ever occur to you?
Score!
[crowd cheering]
Hell of a deflection, eh?
Yeah, wicked shot, man.
Okay, Malarek,
we'd like to stay for tea,
but we got work to do.
Hey, don't forget
to close the door behind you.
♪♪
What's the matter, man?
Hi, boys.
Freddy, how's school?
Victor, what about you?
How come you're here?
They know they got
the wrong guy, these bastards.
How are they
treating you, Mike?
I pay the lawyer.
Don't do me any favors.
He can go to hell.
I didn't come to argue, Mike.
Then why did you come?
Not because you love me,
that's for bloody sure.
I gonna go
if you don't stop this.
Go! Be my guest.
[speaks Ukrainian]
Come, boys.
Let's go.
Freddy, come back.
Come back!
That's my boy.
Now smile, huh?
Come on,
smile for your old man.
Smile-- you're a kid.
You're supposed to be happy.
I can't.
Smile.
No one smiles in here.
♪♪
What?
He just got here.
Others want to visit.
Can you believe
these bastards?
You're my boy, Victor,
remember.
I love you, baby.
I love you!
Always!
[man]
So, to what do I owe
the pleasure of this visit?
Look, I want to know about
these suicides, Mr. Stern.
What suicides? Huh?
What suicides? Huh?
There are no suicides.
You know exactly
what suicides.
I know that you're asking
too many questions
and the cops are getting
pissed off, Malarek.
Just tell me about
these suicides, man.
All right, I'll tell you.
These kids are all Catholic.
Suicides cannot be buried
according to the church,
so they didn't commit
suicide, you capisce?
They do it for the families,
out of respect.
You understand?
Explain something to me here.
You're telling me
that there's nothing wrong
if these kids
are killing themselves
and all that you can do
is make sure that they get
kosher burials?
You're still a schmuck,
Malarek.
I'm a schmuck?
You're still a schmuck.
And you believe what you're
doing, sitting in that chair,
thinking that you're doing
the right thing.
Look, there was a girl,
there was a girl.
Her name is Marie,
she was a suicide.
You have her
in your files here.
I want to know her last name.
Are you going to help me out,
Mr. Asshole, or not?
You're beyond help.
Malarek, the cops
are on to your game
and they're gonna get you.
This time there ain't
gonna be no pushover judge.
I don't see it.
Well, I got
that social worker to admit
that they lie about suicides
so that Catholic kids
could be buried.
And will he go on record?
Well...
I thought you stopped
working on this.
I never said that.
No, I did.
All you've told me is that
they've circled the wagons.
Get the whole story
or there is no story.
And get someone
who will go on record.
Hey.
Why is this stuff
so important to you anyway?
Well, I mean, I care
about these kids, Claire.
Roch, will you buy your own?
Still looking
for that name?
Yeah.
It's Archambault.
Marie Archambault.
And it'll cost you
a case of Jack Daniels.
How did you get it?
You new kids think you gotta
kick ass to get anywhere,
but I learned you get
a lot further if you lick ass.
You certainly have a way
with words, Roch.
Hi, Claire.
So how do you spell it?
A-R-C-H-A-M-B-A-U-L-T.
Friends of yours?
Nice, Victor.
Really nice.
So is there
any address or parents?
Nah, I tried to get one of my
contacts to leak the file,
but it ain't easy.
Thanks a lot.
Excuse me.
Sure.
You goddamn Uke.
Shh!
Yeah, yeah, you really
screwed up this time
with that dementoid thief.
[Roch chuckles]
I told you not to come
to the paper, man.
Yeah, well, I'm 500 bucks out
of pocket 'cause of that jerk.
All right, so report the crime
to the cops, all right?
And I'll mention
something else that Gray said.
Hmm?
Marroni, you owe me one.
If he says that
one more time, I'll kill him.
So what do you want
this kid to do?
Go get a job?
Come on.
I got that police scanner
you wanted.
Hmm?
Nice rat you got here.
Yeah, yeah.
♪♪
[dog barking]
[knocking on door]
[man coughing]
[speaking French]
I'm from "The Tribune."
I called you before.
What you want?
I wanted to ask you
a couple of questions
about your daughter Marie.
Oh.
About Marie,
do you know how she died?
Anything like that?
No.
No?
Cops said something.
Do you know the names
of these cops?
[laughs]
Two big dumb bastards
with moustaches.
They all look the same.
What is it to you?
I think there's something
fishy about her death.
They're covering up
suicides there.
I wouldn't be surprised
if she killed herself.
She was loony.
How do you know
she was loony?
How?
[laughs]
She took off her pants
for everything
that rang at the doorbell.
We had a lot in common.
We hated each other.
Good riddance.
Did you get any communication
from the Juvenile
Detention Centre?
No.
What's that again?
The Montreal Juvenile
Detention Centre,
where she died.
Oh.
Thought she died
over in the nuthouse.
The nuthouse?
Yeah, yeah, um, children's
psycho center somewhere.
I took her myself.
If she was at
the Psychiatric Institute,
how the hell did she end up at
the Juvenile Detention Centre?
Dr. Cranley speaking.
Sir, Marie Archambault
was 15 years old.
Now, she died at the
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Her father tells me
she was in your custody
at the psychiatric institute.
Now, she never broke a law,
so could you please tell me
how the hell she landed
at the other end of town
in a prison?
She committed suicide
at Juvenile Detention.
You call Tom Banks there
and ask him what the hell
kind of place he's running.
You ask him, all right?
Don't bother me.
[dial tone buzzing]
Christ.
He said it.
♪♪
[air conditioner
clatters loudly]
♪♪
[footsteps in hallway]
[footsteps fade]
Ca va?
Oui?
Ca va.
Is anybody sitting here?
Good.
This coffee's cold.
Did any one of you know a girl
named Marie Archambault?
I mean, she killed herself
in some heavy-duty prison
for juveniles.
I mean, her father
had her committed here.
Can anyone tell me how
the hell she ended up there?
Huh?
Do you know what happened?
Are you the police?
No-- I'm sorry.
Police? No.
I'm Victor Malarek.
With "The Tribune."
Why, is that a bad paper?
Look, anything that you
tell me is confidential.
I'm just doing
some background work.
I never reveal my sources,
so you don't have to worry.
Please.
Wait a second, wait!
What are you afraid of?
What are you afraid
of me finding out?
Goddamn it, wait a second!
What are you hiding?
Wait a second, wait a second!
What are you hiding?
♪♪
[siren wailing]
Look, I'm sorry
for dragging you down there.
It's nothing.
Don't worry about it.
The first time I was arrested,
I thought "The Tribune"
would fire me for sure.
You were ar-- wow.
They don't care.
Thanks.
Take care.
You know, knowing a story
is out there is one thing.
It's proving it, it never
seems to get any easier.
You know, I just want
to get this story--
Don't want it so bad.
You'll get it.
Go on, get out of here.
Hey! Hi!
Get out of here, man.
Who's this, your grandma?
This is,
this is my boss, Gray.
Well, Gray.
Get out of here, man.
You stood me up.
Hey, I think I know where
that Mahoney chick lives.
No, I already got her, man.
What about the,
this Marie chick?
She wasn't even supposed to
be at Juvenile Detention.
She was at
some psychiatric place.
A Christmas fruit cake.
She must have been
a Christmas fruit cake.
She was a what?
At Christmas, they used to
send the loony kids
to Detention Centre
because, uh,
their staff was on holidays.
We used to call them
Christmas fruit cakes.
You mean, they send loonies to
prison for the holidays, man?
Let's go
for some burgers, man.
Mr. Banks!
Mr. Banks.
Get out of here.
Sir.
Marie Archambault died here.
Can I ask you
just one question?
No.
Now, what the hell
was she doing here?
She was never even arrested.
No comment.
Does the term
"Christmas fruit cake"
mean anything to you, then?
No.
It doesn't?
All right then, man.
You get a messed-up
little girl
and she kills herself.
We're gonna fry your ass
on the front page.
You know what?
You are dead, Malrich.
You are dead.
Mal-a-rek... Mr. Banks.
Now you get it right.
And you sing it on the way
home, you understand?
Good morning,
"Montreal Tribune."
[Claire]
Victor?
Victor?
Okay, I want to
think about this.
What's wrong?
The writing's rough.
Well, we'll smooth it out.
I told you I wanted it
all on the record,
not just sources.
This stuff
is a lawyer's wet dream.
Come on, Claire.
I want Moorcraft
to take a look at this.
Hello, Victor.
I don't think you've ever
been properly introduced.
This is Mr. Moorcraft.
Victor Malarek, sir.
Hi, Victor.
Please, sit down.
Victor, we've been
discussing your copy.
The accusations
are extremely serious.
And we don't think
you have it.
We can't run this
until you have more
on the record and more facts.
What?
We've put Bill on
to double-check.
I'm sorry, Victor.
I didn't come up with anything
to confirm your story.
Every source I have--
the courts, the police,
social affairs, all denials.
And that social worker,
Harold Stern?
Denies saying that suicides
were covered up
to protect Catholic families.
You're the one who gave me
Marie Archambault's name.
Yeah, but I found out
she died on a weekend pass
from the Children's
Psychiatric Institute.
Then how come Gray saw her
dead at the Detention Centre?
Boys and girls are kept
in separate buildings.
How could he see her?
In the infirmary.
What about
a coroner's report?
It was missing.
I looked for it a whole day.
It says she was found
in the street.
An accidental death.
I also have
a psychiatric file.
It says she was
on a weekend pass,
not transferred
to juvenile detention,
which jives
with the coroner's report.
She wasn't.
Let me see this file.
Well, I don't believe
he has it.
It'll reveal my source.
Victor, I'm on your side.
Now, at one point, you said
you had an adult source
inside juvenile detention.
Who is it?
It'll reveal my source.
You're new, Victor.
We don't know about you.
We know you're ambitious.
Sometimes ambitious people
take shortcuts.
You think I made it up?
Look-- listen, you've got
some good stuff here.
I'm not denying that.
I just propose
sitting on it for a while.
Then how many more kids
do you think will be dead
by then, Mr. Moorcraft?
One, three, 10?
My job's this paper, okay?
We print fact, not fiction.
Okay, my job is to report.
And this is fact, so print it.
All I'm saying is...
Well, what you've given us
reads like tea leaves.
Now I'm going to put
Bill and Claire on it.
They've got
more experience than you.
Bill and Claire?
They have--
Sir, everything here,
everything here, I saw.
Come on, Victor.
How do you know?
What do you want?
What do you want, Claire?
Corpses or what?
Easy, cream and sugar.
Shut up, asshole.
You think like a cop,
you smell like a cop.
The only different
between you and a cop
is you don't have
a stinking badge on your tit.
You calm down, young man.
What are you saying?
You're on my side?
Just calm down.Yeah.
You have the half the town
denying they said
what you said they said.
You attacked
a prison director,
you broke into
a psychiatric institute.
All right.
Okay.
Sir, are you going to let me
keep on this story or what?
No.
You know, Mr. Moorcraft,
you have no idea what goes on,
really, in this city.
You know, these kids,
their families break up
and they're shoved
into some boys' home
with a bunch of other kids
who are treated like animals
and they become bums.
And then they make
one little mistake
and then the whole goddamn--
Are you listening?
The whole system
wants to teach them
a lesson of their young lives
and everybody else
wonders around here
why every little step
they took
was a, was a backward one.
You know, Mr. Moorcraft,
you know,
you're sitting pretty
on your little mansion
up there by the river
with your handed-down paper.
Claire over here can't decide
whether to smoke or sit down
and this guy
can't stop drinking
and you're telling me about
what's going on out there?
Fuck you, man.
Fuck your paper.
Fuck everything.
[chuckling]
Well, that's too bad.
He's a prick.
Pricks make good reporters.
[retching and coughing
♪♪
[man on p.a.]
Welcome to the fifth annual
Pigskin Ball
for the finest high school
team of 1966-- the Stingers!
[band playing twangy
rock and roll]
Go.
No.Go on!
No, no, she'll come here.
Yeah, right.
Come on, go, go, go!
Look at that guy,
he's so gorgeous.
Thank you.
[playing slow song]
Who's that guy?
My boyfriend.
♪ You came along
when I was down ♪
♪ We went out... ♪
[girls screaming]
[bottle shatters]
[girls screaming]
My dad died of cancer
two years ago, man.
He beat you?
No.
Nor my brother.
Never did.
I taught you to fight clean,
not with a bottle!
I didn't do it, Pops!
Victor, the police said
the boy may die.
Mom--
Did I teach you
to fight like an animal?
Come on, punk, come on!
You bum!
Get out of here!
My dad.
He used to beat the shit
out of my mom, man.
He was a disgusting drunk,
but he was a good guy.
I loved him, you know?
I didn't understand why.
Anyway, the hell with it.
Gone.
To Vic, man.
My best friend.
Split till you're 18,
then juvie court
won't be able to touch you.
Yeah.
Go to the United States.
Go to New Orleans
like you always said, huh?
What are you
going to do now, man?
Work for another paper?
You ever been
to New Orleans, man?
Huh-uh.
My dad used to tell me
that they bury their dead
above ground there
so they won't forget them.
Isn't that wild?
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, man, me and you.
We blast off.
Blast off to New Orleans, man.
Huh?
[imitates car engine]
With what money?
We can pull a score.
You're crazy, man.
It's easy, man.
I've done it.
No.
They're gonna send you away.
It's your only out.
Marroni, I'm in
enough shit, all right?
All right, you wait till
you're on the inside, okay?
You just wait.
Ask your old man.
Ask your old man
what they do to 17-year-olds.
You won't be able
to sit down for a month.
Look, it's
your only out, man.
I need some cigarettes.
A pack of Exports, sir.
What are you doing?
Bastard, shit, fuck!
What are you doing?Shut up!
Open it, all the money, now!
Leave him alone!
Just watch, boss.
Shit, get the knife, quick!
What are you
fucking doing, man?
Stop it!
I'll kill you!
The gun!
What are you doing?
No, no!
Run, run!
Now what, man?
Just go!
You asshole!
♪♪
Stop! Police!
[gunshots]
Stop!
That's for making me
run, punk.
[siren wailing]
Who's the other kid, punk?
I was alone.
Look, we're talking
armed robbery with assault.
Maybe attempted murder.
So what's his name?
I said I was alone.
Stand fast, man.
♪♪
[grunting]
Trying to escape, huh?
[laughs]
Now, who is your accomplice?
[grunting and groaning]
I hope you brought
your parachute, kid.
[laughs]
No!
[grunts]
For the last time,
what's his name?
[barking and growling]
What is this place?
It's the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre.
They know
what to do with scum.
[sniffs]
Ugh...
Hey!
The sheets are wet!
[man]
Sheets are changed
once a week!
Well, fuck you, I ain't
sleeping in a goddamn urinal!
[punching and grunting]
Don't like wet sheets,
huh, kid?
[unzips]
[urinating]
No! No!
[guards laughing]
You were arrested
twice in 24 hours.
Two people are in hospital,
but I can call
and make a deal.
What's his name?
You're helping some kid
you'll never see.
He's out getting laid,
spending your cash.
What's his name?
[bangs table]
Who is he?
[spits]
[screaming]
Hello, Victor.
Where's Pop?
How they treating you?
They may try you as an adult
because you will be 18 soon.
I can't take it here anymore.
[sobbing]
You are young, Victor.
A lifetime is
a long, long time.
It's not over.
We didn't make it
easy for you, Victor.
You're a fighter.
You fight for yourself now.
Fight.
Fight, Victor.
Fight.
♪♪
I'm sorry.
Probably recognize it
'cause it probably has
a ticket on it or something.
[engine starts]
Hey! Hey!
[man]
Following suspect one,
Gray White,
escaped from
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Suspect two, Victor Malarek,
for harboring a juvenile.
This guy's drunk.
This guy's so drunk
we had to run after his car.
This guy's so drunk
he lost his Dodge
and his job the same day.
Stop, stop!
Hey!
Stop or I'll shoot!
[fires into air]
[fires]
No, no! No!
No...!
♪♪
Now we've got two guns.
Yes.
That's what Victor Malarek
told you.
The boy your cop shot
didn't have a gun
because Gray White had it.
One of those guns
was planted by your men.
This Mr. Malarech--
Malarek.
Whatever.
Now he's wanted
for contributing
to juvenile delinquency
and for withholding
evidence, correct?
Yes.
And nobody knows where he is.
That's correct.
Well, I'd like to know how
many guns and how many kids
Mr. Malarek has
before we change our ruling.
Thank you.
Adjourned.
Claire.
Better sit down.
What is it?
You wanted to know
about Malarek?
Yeah.
Here's Malarek.
Miss, just a minute
of your time.
It's about Marie Archambault
and I know that you know
what happened.
Look, I can't help you.
No one will know
that you're my source.
Everyone will know.
Okay, then call me later.
Look, call me later.
Just tell me your name now.
She's dead.
What about the next kid?
Come on.
Maybe I'll call you
at your paper.
I don't work there anymore.
I can explain.
Can't you see
you're bothering the lady?
Are you okay, Elena?
Elena, Elena, please!
[man on police radio]
All cars sector five,
brawl at Popeye's Poolroom--
No luck, huh?
No.
Repeat, all cars,
sector five---
This is a lot better
than that crap.
Do you want to help me out?
Hey, I owe you one.
[Roch]
95 and still turning tricks.
[men]
Roch, Roch, Roch, Roch, Roch.
He tells that to every
new kid on the block.
How many?
None.
None?Stand pat.
I'll take one, please.
Five.
[all]
Five?
[alarm ringing]
Car 17-12, break-in
at 1283 Ontario East.
I repeat, break-in
at Miss Royal Jewelry,
1283 Ontario East.
17-12, code three.
Okay, kid.
You'll see how an ace does it.
You forgetting
your equipment there?
♪♪
[grenade pin clinks]
[explosion]
Car 17-12 at
1283 Ontario East, I repeat,
assist car 17-12 at Miss Royal Jewelry, 1283 Ontario--
Looks like you're
playing solitaire, Roch.
Explosion
at municipal courthouse.
All available units,
code three.
I repeat, explosion
at municipal courthouse,
all available units,
code three.
Must be the full moon.
It's a crazy night.
You'll have to mind the store.
Put that down and go.
Go.
I don't want
to call the police.
Why not?
Everybody else has.
Victor, I'm sorry about Gray.
You were right about the other
kid not having a gun,
but you're wrong
about doing this.
I came for Marie Archambault's
file and...
could you get arrested
for stealing your own file?
And could you tell me what you
people were doing with this?
No apologies.
I'm a reporter.
I wanted
to understand you better.
You wanted to
understand me better?
Don't you understand that you
can't ever understand?
It helped me to.
This is theft, lady.
This is theft.
Theft?Yeah.
Look at yourself.
You're still
breaking and entering.
You haven't changed.
You've been lying to me
from the start.
Journalism school?
Christ, you were
thrown out of high school.
Lying, Claire?
What did you expect me to do?
Come up to you and say,
"Look, I haven't finished high
school, I have no education,
could you please hire me
as a reporter?"
That's what you expect me to--
would you have hired me?
I'm trying to get
out of this shit, Claire.
Lie?
You people lie every day
by not printing the truth.
Now, I want
Marie Archambault's file.
I don't know where it is.
Where the hell is it?
I don't know--
Roch may have returned it.
Victor.
You know...
You were right.
You can't really trust
anybody in this business.
You were right.
Victor, the story's
still yours.
[knocking on door]
Who's there?
Open it up, Stern.
Malarek?
Yep.
Get the hell out of here
or I'll call the cops.
Open the friggin' door, man!
Open it up!
Crazy young punk, you're gonna
wake up the whole city.
Now get out of here
or I'm gonna call the cops.
Hey, you're my social worker.
I need some social work done.
I'm not a psychiatric
social worker.
Yeah? Well, how about
some legal advice then?
Uh, someone leaked
my juvenile file to Bill Roch!
Big shot reporter
complaining about leaks.
That's my personal file, man.
There is nothing personal
about armed robbery.
Fuckin' bitch...
Man, I knew you were a bastard
when I first met you
and you're a fucking
bastard now, man.
You get out of here.
This is not the boys' home,
this is civilization!
Get out of here.
Marie Archambault's file.
You gave it to Bill Roch
and I want it.
You still looking to blame
your life on somebody else?
Well, not me.
I was doing my job.
I didn't write the laws,
I didn't create the policies.
I just did my best.
Tough! If you don't
like it, tough.
That's life.
There's no one to blame.
Yeah? What about
Marie Archambault?
What?
What about
Marie Archambault, man?
What about Petrucci?
What about Mahoney?
What about Graham White?
Graham White?
You know, the reason
that I gave Bill your file
is because you are the most
self-righteous bastard
I ever saw in my whole life.
You had that kid.
You had him and he was alive
and now he's dead
and you could have saved him!
You talk to me about blame?
That kid was 15 years old.
You get out of here
before I puke.
No, wait a second,
wait a second.
If you give me Marie's file,
I can prove that it was faked.
She's dead, it's too late.
She's dead!
Well, what about the next kid?
And the kid after that?
That's my job.
Then I pity them.
You pity them, huh?
Just the way you pitied
the grocer and his wife?
Just the way that you pitied
that kid that
you almost blinded?
The only one you
ever pitied was yourself.
That's why you're still
looking for bad guys.
Well, look again.
Go look in a mirror.
You'll see yourself.
You know, you're getting
to be, getting to be
just like your father
was, Malarek!
♪♪
Order, please.
I have thought about your
case for a long time, Victor.
You maimed three people.
Your social worker recommends
a sentence
in a detention center,
one which will show you
firsthand
what's in store
for criminals in our society.
Listen, you dried-up bastard,
you're not gonna
put my son away!
Quiet! Quiet!
Dad!He's a kid!
Order, or I'll hold you
in contempt.
Hold me wherever you want.
Remove him
from the court, please.
Put me away!
It's my fault!
No, it has nothing
to do with you!
You know what kind of life
he's had 'cause of me?
Put me away!
I don't care!
I been there.
He's a smart boy.
But if you put him away,
you're gonna have yourself
another criminal for life.
Is that what you want?
I've never given him a chance!
He can do it!
Don't fuck up his life!
I love you, Victor.
I love you too.
I'm sorry.
I love you, baby.
[sobbing]
Well, Victor, your father
needs to learn a lot
about decorum and perhaps,
a lot about being a parent.
But he obviously
has a lot of faith in you.
He seems to think
that he knows more
about you than we do.
I have always espoused
the belief
that family can help
more than institutions.
I'm going to let you
go free, Victor.
You will remain
a ward of the court
until you are 21 years of age.
So now it's up to you.
Only you can do it.
Good luck.
Court is recessed.
♪♪
[sobbing]
Mr. Stern? Mr. Stern?
Please, can I talk to you
for a minute?
I'm sorry about before.
Please, could you just
come to the door
and I just want to talk
to you for a few minutes
and then I'm gone.
You're not gonna see
my face around here again.
Please.
Just-- please...
You know you,
you've always been a part
of a rotten system, right?
And here's your one chance,
just for once,
to do something decent.
I mean, everybody-- somebody
gave me a chance once, right?
And I'm alive.
Now here's your turn.
You're not sitting behind
a desk right now,
so stop protecting the system
and talk, do something.
I mean, these kids,
they don't have anybody
looking after them.
Only you can do that.
You could change it.
You can do it.
Wait, please.
♪♪
Just remember,
we were tough on you
and that's why you survived.
Don't ever forget that.
♪♪
[rings doorbell]
Please.
I just--No.
--wanna talk to you.
Just for two minutes.
Please let me in, Elena,
I need to talk to you.
I said no.
I have Marie's file.
The entries are in your name.
Please.
Just listen to me
for two seconds.
I'm going to wait out here
till you come out.
I'm not going anywhere.
Marie killed herself
at the Juvenile Detention.
Now, she was transferred there
because of
the Christmas holidays
from the psychiatric
institute where you work.
Now, but this file here says
that she wasn't transferred,
it says that she was
released for the weekend.
It's been tampered
with, right?
She wastransferred
to Juvenile Detention.
I saw her leave myself.
Okay.
Now will you go on record
as saying that?
Okay, why?
I like my job
too much to lose it.
We'll make sure
that you don't lose it.
How?
Well--
Okay.
I can't help you.
I wish I could.
I don't know what to tell you.
All right.
Just let me read you
something that I--
Wait a second.
All right, you wrote here,
"Marie is a lonely girl,
sad and scarred.
"Her mother committed suicide
when she was seven.
"From the time she was nine,
"her father would bring her
to the local bar
and sell her for drinks."
Okay.
"Progress being made.
"Marie is trusting me
with deeper secrets.
"Being raped by her father.
She fears that she will kill
him one day or kill herself."
Would you please stop?
This is something
that you wrote
the day before she was sent to
the Juvenile Detention to die
because of the holidays.
"Marie has told me
she has a crush on Billy.
"This and Christmas
is putting a smile
where no one has ever
seen one before."
Please leave.
You have to help me.
Will you go?
Why?Go...
You have to--Go!
[muttering,
sobbing quietly]
Are you okay?
No, I'm not okay.
I'm not okay.
I-- come from a broken home.
My father was in jail.
I was in,
in all these foster homes
and then I ended up
in a boys' home.
I was involved in
knife fights, armed robbery.
Then I ended up
in Juvenile Detention.
I'm alive, Elena,
by a fucking miracle.
I was one of those kids.
You know...
I wanna help these kids.
Nobody cares about them.
Hello.
Hello.
[man]
So you're back, Victor?
Hey, look who's back.
♪♪
[woman]
Mr. Banks,
Mr. Victor Malarek is here.
Malarek?
[chuckles]
You're kidding.
Just keep him out there
and call the cops.
Hello, Mr. Banks.
I'm sorr--No, it's okay.
Just call the police.
No, please,
call the police now.
Good, saves me a dime.
Now we got you, Malarek,
you little punk ass.
Now you're yesterday's beer,
my friend.
Oh, yeah?Yeah.
Okay, while we wait, Banks,
I'd like you to take a look
at something
that's gonna be
in the afternoon paper.
Wanna know if you have
any comments
or wish to
refute it even, hmm?
Proves you lied, man.
Proves you
falsified documents.
Proves you covered up the
suicides of Marie Archambault,
Paul Mahoney and Al Petrucci
and God knows what else.
It proves you're a disgusting,
incompetent ass
who's about two hours away
from being the biggest
scandal in the country.
You son of a bitch!
It's okay.
I'm used to having guns
pointed at me.
And even if you shoot me,
that's still gonna go through.
Now you listen, Malarek.
Who cares what some
little social worker
thinks she remembers?
I changed
the coroner's report,
I changed our files,
her files.
There is not one shred
of evidence left to prove
that Marie Archambault
was ever in this place.
Is that the confirmation
you need?
Yeah-- a confession and two
witnesses is usually enough.
May I?
If I'm arrested,
the paper's gonna
have me out in two minutes.
But you're gonna be in
for a long, long time.
And I hope they put you away
in a fucking disgusting
place as this one.
It's Claire.
Print it.
Whoo...!
[cocks gun]
No, please don't.
I got this thing
about suicides.
♪♪
Hey!
[all whooping and laughing]
World on fire,
cream and sugar!
Welcome to the club, buddy!
No more cream and sugar
for you, buddy.
Now it's only good times.
♪♪
♪♪
[telephones ringing]
[typewriters clacking]
[man speaking
indistinctly on television]
...to organize
a gigantic celebration.
From both refugee and
training camps, from schools,
30,000 Palestinians have come, men, women and children--
Thanks, Malarek.
[snaps fingers,
mutters obscenity]
[telephone ringing]
No, no, no, no.
Chris, we really missed the boat
on that-- article.
I compared it with all the
other papers this morning.
It's shit.
Okay, I want the religious
programs from schools,
that should go third page,
bottom right perhaps, okay?
[man speaking French]
So what you want?
You always want something.
Well, what about
my appointment?
What appointment?
My appointment with the lady.
I'm sorry, Victor, you
can't have an appointment.
She's too busy.
Lose that.
I don't want to have
anything to do with that.
What are these
invitations for?
They're not for you,
come on.
Come on-- Victor.
Yeah.
Right.
Bye.
If you don't have
something to do,
you could clean the toilets.
Did you miss again or what?
You got a lot of lip,
Malarek.
Oh, yeah?
[playing jazz]
[chatter and laughter]
Good afternoon, sir.
May I see your invitation?
Yes, thank you...
No, I got...
[music continues]
Champagne, monsieur.
[glass breaks]
What are you doing here,
cream and sugar?
You don't serve the coffee
till later.
Who's got the beer?
Private stock.
I didn't know this was
a costume party, Malarek.
I didn't either.
[chuckles]
[music stops]
Ladies and gentlemen,
distinguished guests,
friends, reporters.
Welcome to our home.
I'm not one
for making speeches
except perhaps
on the editorial page,
but, uh, Christine and I
would like to thank you
very much
for coming here today.
This has always been
a family newspaper
and you needn't be afraid
to let your 10-year-old
turn to page three.
[men chuckling]
And it's been in my family
since 1821.
What better way to celebrate
our 150th anniversary
than to have you all
here with us today,
the extended family
of "The Montreal Tribune."
Thank you very much.
Have a very good time.
[applause]
Now listen, don't forget
Friday, okay?
[music resumes]
Hi.
I'm Victor.
Victor Malarek.
Yes.
You sort the mail.
What are you doing here?
Do you mind if I sit?
No, why don't you sit?
You know, I've been trying to
get an appointment with you
for the longest time.
No-- I'm trying to quit.
[chuckles]
I've been trying to get
an appointment with you.
Yes.
I'm sorry.
The job.
Look, I can speak French
and I studied journalism.
My uncle's a reporter.
I never come late.
Work seven days a week.
I can type-- kinda.
I have, uh, I have
some writing samples
that I brought along.
I think that you could
use a guy like me
out in the street.
Wow, you're beautiful.
You wrote these?
I... typed it.
It's a joke.
[chuckles]
Hey, Claire.
Kid.
Party's really improving.
Look over there.
Moorcraft's daughter
must be 15.
Any minute now,
Mrs. Moorcraft's
going to have his balls
flambéed for dessert.
Dan, we were just
discussing a job for Victor.
On crime beat?
Did he get it?
Yeah.
[chuckles]
Welcome to
the horror show, kid.
You better play lousy poker.
♪♪
[boy]
Come on, come on!
Come on, man, let's go!
[continues shouting]
[boy screaming]
Hey!
Hey! Get off!
Get off, man!
Get off me!
Let's go, Gray!
I had to make it look real.
[other boys shouting]
♪♪
[guard]
Stop!
[siren wailing,
alarm ringing]
Let's go, Gray.
Let's go!
[chatter]
There was
this Chink madam--
Oh, God, Roch.
85 and still
turning tricks.
Last year
she was 75.
It was a rough year.
[laughter]
[man on scanner]
Fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner of Brudelle.
Repeat, fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner Brudelle.
Who wants a card?
One.
Give me two.
One.
Five.
Five?
Fire in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner Brudelle.
Car 17-2, Car 17-8.
Repeat, Car 17-2, 17-8.
Come on,
whose turn is it?
It's a slow night.
You gotta print
something.
I'd like to do it.
He's been here two weeks.
He's ready.
Right, cream and sugar?
Absolutely.
Got this, got the pens.
[laughter]
Just don't burn
your fingers.
[men]
Oh...!
Malarek to the rescue!
♪♪
To all cars, four-alarm fire
in a warehouse,
2600 Langelier,
corner of Brudelle.
Repeat: to all cars,
four-alarm fire in a warehouse.
2600--
[sirens wailing]
All right!
♪♪
All right!
Come on.
Shit!
[officer firing]
You shot him!Get back!
I'm a reporter
with "The Tribune"!
Get the hell
out of here-- move!
You killed him,
you bastard.Get back!
Get this scum out of here.
[snoring]
Tough night, huh?
Good morning.
Morning.
You screw up a cop
with a story like this,
without all your facts down,
you're finished.
He killed that kid
in cold blood.
You don't even have
the name of the deceased.
Well, they wouldn't
give it to me.
Collete, get Roch in here.
I was at the cop shop.
I saw the piece.
Kid didn't have a gun.
You need glasses,
cream and sugar?
I saw the evidence.
The other cop is a witness.
No, the other cop
came later, Roch.
What was the kid--
deceased's--
Forget it.
Come on, man.
What is it?
I don't know.
Come on,
I know you got it.
Please.
Chris Bachus.
And the other one
that got away was Gray.
Gray White.
They escaped from the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre.
♪♪
Ever hear of it?
Lots of things
you never heard of.
Look, maybe--
maybe they were lying.
But your word against
two cops is balls all.
No, there was no gun.
Absolutely no gun, sir.
Where is
the other constable?
He's on sick leave, sir.
[scoffs]
Mr. Malarich--
Malarek, sir.
Malarek.
Both officers have stated
there was a great deal
of smoke and dust.
Yes, there was, sir, but I was
able to see very clearly--
there was no gun.
Do you wear glasses?
Excuse me?
Do you wear glasses?No.
Were you able to see
both the young man's hands?
Yes, sir.
Where were his hands?
They were at the end
of his arms, sir.
[snickers]
Well, were they
behind his back or,
or did he have them
in his pockets?
From your view--
Sir, let me tell you
something, sir,
with all respect.
The kid that he shot
didn't have a gun
until the day
after his burial.
Now that is pretty weird,
don't you think?
[bawdy music playing]
[music continues]
[whistling and cat-calling]
Oh, mama, where do you live?
Hey, pisshead.
Long time.
You look good.
Scumbag Marroni,
you look good too.
Been outta jail six months.
Personal best.
Who is this guy?
It's all right.
This is Clayman, Cutter,
Stupidinski.
Stubinski.
Your brother
still in the army?
Marroni, I gotta talk to you.
You're a what?
Reporter.
Where did we go wrong
with you?
You know, you know what a
newspaper is, right, Marroni?
Yeah, I've had
my name in a few.
What do you want
from me anyway?
Fucking in-depth interview?
Look, I'm looking for a juvie.
His name is Graham White.
Guy escaped from the
Juvenile Detention Centre.
I tried 18 fucking months
to escape from there.
They do it younger now, man.
Listen.
Can you find him
for me or what?
What, you into
young boys now, Malarek?
Listen, just find him.
Find him for me and tell him
that he can trust me,
all right?
You do that, but don't tell him
how you know me, okay?
Marroni, you owe me one.
You owe me 10.
So, you'll play poker
on Friday?
Sure.
We need someone else
to lose their money.
So?
Didn't believe a word I said.
They actually showed me a gun
and said, "Hey, is this
the gun you didn't see?'
You believe that question
or what?
Guy probably got, like,
a confession from
a corpse or something.
Yeah, Victor Malarek.
[Gray]
Uh, yes, is this
Victor Malarek?
Yes.
Um... I heard you wanted
to talk to me.
Look, this is what
you're gonna do.
You're gonna go
to Central Station
and you're gonna wait
on the north side.
Gate 22.
And then you're gonna...
Yeah, yeah?
[dial tone buzzing]
♪♪
[man on p.a.]
Train now leaving
for Toronto, Detroit, Chicago,
Baton Rouge, New Orleans.
Train now leaving
for Toronto, Detroit, Chicago,
Baton Rouge, New Orleans.
♪♪
[telephone ringing]
Yeah.
Where are you?
♪♪
What is this,
"Mission: Impossible" or what?
Just wanted to make sure
you were alone.
I'm alone, Gray.
You can trust me.
I'm your side, okay?
Now you wait there.
Gray, can you hear me?
♪♪
[sighs]
[horn honks]
Come on!
Hey, what'd you
call me here for?
[glass shatters]
[man and woman
yelling and arguing]
Frank, no!
[screams]
Where'd you meet him, huh?
Where'd you meet him?
No! No!
No!
No, please.
[screams]
Victor, go to bed.
Just go!
[screams]
[telephone ringing]
Hello?
[phone clicks]
Hello?
Hey.
[dial tone buzzing]
♪ Bom bom bom, bom bom,
bom bom ♪
♪ Bom bom bom,
bom bom, bom bom ♪♪
[laughs]
You should see the look
on your face right now.
Hey! Hey, it's mine!
Do something like that again,
I'll make your backbone
look like a pretzel,
you understand?
Out.
Hey, man, I thought
you wanted to talk to me.
Out!
'Cause I have other
appointments, you know?
Make it fast.
Just shut the door.
Shut the door!
[horn honks]
Ask me anything.
I'm a fucking genius.
Hey, man, relax.
It was just a joke.
[laughs]
Okay. All right.
When that black kid
was killed by the cops,
did he have a gun?
I need a hundred bills.
Hey, so do I and so does
the rest of the world.
Okay?
Did he have a gun?
I'm a fugitive.
I need some legal tender.
Ow.
Was he armed?
Was he armed when you guys
escaped from
the Detention Centre, man?
No, man.
What about the gun that was
stolen from the guard?
He didn't steal it.
How do you know that?
'Cause I did.
[firing, laughing]
Whoa!
You punks, man.
You punks
think you're so tough.
He's a kid! A criminal!
And you don't have
the experience.
The dead kid
doesn't have the gun
'cause this kid's got it--
I saw it.
He could have had another
and your guy didn't know.
Your guy could be
lying, maybe.
Maybe the cops
are lying, Claire.
Trust me,
I know what I'm doing.
You never trust anyone
in this business.
That's the first rule.
The second rule is you
always follow your hunches.
Okay, but I want to
hear this firsthand.
I want to meet this kid.
No, I can't do that.
Then you can forget it.
You wanna pursue this, fine,
but I double-check.
Okay.
I'll arrange it.
He's staying at my place.
Hold on.
I don't know
where he's staying.
I don't even know who he is--
you got that?
And get him
out of your apartment.
I know what I'm doing.
[phone rings once]
It's a signal.
Just bear with me.
♪♪
[thunder booms]
♪♪
[man on TV]
Morning.
How you feeling this morning?
Hello there, Billy Goat.
Hi there, little Susie Lamb.
Let me climb over here,
I'll talk to you a little bit.
There we go.. ah.
Well, good morning there.
Say, here's a little lamby.
Oh, let me pick you up
and let all the boys and girls
take a nice good look at you--
This the Malarek place?
Say good morning
to the boys and girls.
Say, "Good morning,
boys and girls."
Are you the little lamb
that followed Mary to school?
Your father h--
[snoring]
All right,
which one are you, huh?
Freddy or Victor?
Come on.
Get your jackets.
Who are you?
I'm a social worker.
Nice little lamby, isn't he?
You guys are going away
for a little while.
Till your father
can get some rest.
Where's Mummy?
She's getting patched up.
She'll be okay.
Where?
She's in the hospital.
Come on.
Come on, get your jackets.
Come on.
♪♪
[kisses,
father mutters]
[thunder booms,
door opens]
My boss waited
an hour for you.
She waited an hour
for you, man!
You know what that
made me look like? Huh?
I was there, man.
She never showed up.
I was there!
So was I.
Fucking cops.
Where are we going?
I never said
I'd talk to nobody.
Only you.
Where are you taking me?
The Detention Centre.
Come on, where are we going?
I'm getting rid
of you fast, man.
All right?
Where do you want to go?
You wanna go to your
parents' house or what?
I don't even remember them.
Then where?
Your place.
[scoffs]
Where?
I have nowhere.
Why the hell
do you think I'm here?
[brakes squeal]
Where, man?
Come on, come on.
Out, man.
Stupid.
Didn't you learn
anything at the home?
I say a cop killed
an unarmed kid,
when they get a hold of me,
they're gonna kill me, man.
Who told you
I was at the boys' home?
I ain't stupid.
I could have been
a reporter too.
Was it Marroni?
I don't divulge my sources.
♪♪
[social worker]
You'll like the home.
You'll be together.
Boys are all pals.
They got a playground,
a music program.
All kinds of stuff.
♪♪
So what do you know
about the home?
Everything.
I'm in for car theft.
I got two years.
He robbed a store.
What about you?
Well, I'll be here
for a few weeks,
till Mom gets a job.
Oh, Mommy.
She dumped you.
You're not gonna
see her again.
No, she loves me.
She loves you?
Kid's fucking retarded.
You know where you came from?
Well, my mother
and father wanted me.
Yeah...?
And, well, they prayed to God
to send down an angel--
[boys laugh]
You know how you got here?
You know how?
I'll tell you.
Your parents
had a good hard fuck.
[boys laugh]
Hey, a brawl!
A big one!
Hurry!
[boys shouting and cheering]
Help, help,
somebody help him! Help!
You stool, we'll kick
your knees up your nose!
♪♪
[crying softly]
Tomorrow I'll lend you
some money
so you can buy a ticket to
Vancouver or something, okay?
So what were you
in the Detention Centre for?
This other guy
pulled some scores.
Who was that, Bachus?
No, Petrucci.
He's dead too.
How?
Hung up.
Where?
Detention Centre.
I saw them cut him down,
then throw him down
a flight of stairs, you know,
to make it look
like an accident.
You saw that?
Happens all the time, man.
The cops know.
Then this other guy, Mahoney,
same bullshit.
Jesus.
You're not kidding, are you?
No, man.
Then there was this one girl--
really nice girl-- I saw her.
I saw--
Wait a second.
Wait, wait.
You lost me here.
How could you see a girl
from the--
the girls building there?
In the infirmary.
She slit her veins
with a broken light bulb.
They're always
bringing stiffs out.
You're not
bullshitting me, are you?
This look like bullshit?
Whoa, man.
They did that with a cigar
'cause I wouldn't bend over
for some guard.
If I had a bazooka,
the place would be
a parking lot.
So there's suicides, man.
You'd have to be crazy
not to kill yourself
in one of those places.
Oh, it's--
It's everything, man.
So that cop
that killed your friend
is just the tip
of the iceberg.
Whoa!
Let's nail
this whole system, man.
♪♪
[knock at the door]
Oh, Victor!
Hello, hi!
Hi.
Mom, this is Graham White.
And Graham White
is an escaped juvie.
Oh.
I'm sorry to do this
to you, Mom,
but I was wondering
if he could stay here
a couple of days.
Come. Sit. Sit.
Sit down.
Move over a little more.
You boys hungry?
I could warm up some holubtsi.
You would like some?
Sure.
Okay.
What's she talking about?
You are in
Ukrainian heaven now.
Guaranteed
five pounds per week.
Yeah, I was wondering
if you people had any
statistics there on suicides,
you know, at the detention
centers there?
[woman]
No, of course not.
Well, Mrs. Menden
at Social Affairs said you did.
Well, I couldn't
give them to you.
Don't you realize juveniles
are protected by law?
Well, uh, it's too bad
you didn't protect them
when they were alive, huh?
♪♪
[woman]
Rosanne, your parole officer
said she'll be late.
Yes?
Yeah, I have an appointment
with Mr. Banks.
Victor Malarek,
"Montreal Tribune."
Mr. who?
Mr. Banks.
No, no, no, no--
what's yourname?
Victor Malarek.
Louise, I have a Mr. Malarich
here to see Mr. Banks.
So, you getting released?
Group home.
Oh, it's better than
this scuzz box, right?
Listen, did you know the girl
inside, she died last January?
Marie?
Yeah.
You wouldn't know
her last name, would you?
Did you know how she died?
You really a reporter?
Yep.
The real thing.
See, pens here.
[intercom buzzes]
Where'd she live?
[woman]
I'll tell him that.
Where do you live?
I'm sorry.
Mr. Banks' secretary
said she told you
they were unable
to grant you an interview.
No, no.
I called back and
they told me to come today.
You like that gum, huh?
He says he has
an appointment.
Tell me, you didn't know
what school she went to
or the name
of her social worker--
You have no appointment,
but he'll see you anyway.
Wonderful.
[gate buzzes]
Mr. Malrich.
Come on in.
Sit down.
You know, I'm always happy
to, uh, get a chance
to chat with the media--
off the record, of course.
I understand that you've been
asking a lot of questions.
No, I just want to know
a few things.
Ah, well, I was wondering.
You know, some of our boys
broke out last Tuesday
and I was wondering
if you know where they are.
No, I don't.
Hmm.
Well, you know,
those boys are in trouble.
They need our help.
I mean, nobody would know
that you talked to me.
Don't worry.
Sir, there was a girl,
she committed sui--
You don't know
where Graham White is?
George Giroux?
Dennis Valard?
No, but I know where
the black kid Chris Bachus is.
♪♪
Sir, I'd like to ask you--Hold it.
Do you know
what happens to people
who help escaped juveniles?
Yeah.
Isn't it two years
or something?
Yes.
Well, I'm sorry, this is
a facility for minors
and I can't talk
to the press, so goodbye.
Sir, there was a girl.
She died here last Jan--I said goodbye.
What was her first name?
First name was Marie.
I advise you to get out of
here before you're thrown out.
What are you hiding?
What are you afraid of?
Louise, call
the guards, please.
Come on, Banks.
What about Paul Mahoney?
What about Al Petrucci?
This is a death trap here.
Throw this man out, please.
You know, I know
what goes on here, man.
I'll crucify you!
I'll crucify the whole
fucking stinking place!
Shit.
Shit!
I can't believe
these guys, man.
♪♪
Victor, what are you doing?
Oh, I wanted to see
if the window works.
It works just fine.
What is happening, Victor?
Are you in trouble?
Me, Ma? No.
I'm not in trouble.
Don't worry.
Hey, come on, drop your hose,
put your socks on your toes.
Come on, let's move.
Hey, I was sleeping.
You're not safe here, buddy.
Victor, you call me.
Okay.
Okay, okay.
[banging on door]
Pisshead.
What's with the gun?
Thought maybe you were
an account payable.
What's with the chicks
on the wall?
Oh, you don't like 'em?
Hey, Mal.
To the Queen.
Sorry, I messed up
your... carpet.
[laughs]
Gray's staying here, okay?
He's hot.
Well, yeah.
So's half the shit
in this place.
I thought you
gave that stuff up.
I'm into retail now.
I'm a fucking freelance
department store.
Yeah, right.
Look, Gray's staying here.
You owe me one, remember that.
I paid that one back 20 times
already, Malarek, okay?
Hey, look at this.
Well, you're going to
continue paying me back.
Okay.
You get me one of those, um...
police car radio things
your people use.
Then we have a deal.
You want a police scanner?
I'll get you one,
but I don't know
where you're going to put it.
So I get to babysit
an escaped juvie, huh?
Hey, kid,
take out the garbage.
Hey, what's with
the fucking rats, man?
They ain't fucking rats,
they're human beings!
People are rats, okay?
And watch
your fucking language.
Hey, Gray.
What?
Relax.
This kid's
from the home too.
Do they teach assault
at journalism school now?
Pardon?
Mr. Banks from the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre
says you attacked him today.
I got a tip on a cover-up.
Oh, the kid again?
No, another source.
Adult?
Yep.
So what is it?
What's the cover-up?
Suicides at
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Victor...
murder is a story.
Escape is a story.
If those kids had
put on "Romeo and Juliet"
for the old folks,
now that's a story.
But suicides?
It's depressing.
No one gives a shit.
No one gives a shit?
I give a shit, Claire.
The suicides
aren't the point here.
It's what leads them to do it.
Which is?
Well, everything.
This whole system.
The social workers, the foster
homes, these old centers.
I mean, you get one toe
in there, Claire,
you get marked for life.
You're finished.
That's the point.
Victor, you have to learn
how to be a reporter.
Chase the fire engines.
Six months from now,
you'll get on a good story.
Trust me, okay?
You don't trust anybody
in this business.
[both chuckles]
Claire, I'm on to
something here.
Yeah.
Unemployment.
Drop the story.
Four weeks ago,
you were delivering coffee.
Watch it.
Don't worry
about Claire, Victor.
She's a broad.
She needs to show
she got balls.
No.
I need a name.
Her first name is Marie.
She died at
Juvenile Detention Centre.
What's the story?
I can't say.
I'll see what I can do.
You wouldn't have
any coffee, would you?
[television playing]
♪♪
[television continues]
Hey, you're out of beer, man.
The cops are
following me, you know?
Come on.
Where'd you get the jacket?
It's sharp, eh?
It's like yours.
You shoplifting or what?
I didn't shoplift.
Where'd you get the money?
From Marroni or what?
Did you rip off Marroni?
Move, man.
Come here.
Boys from the home don't steal
from each other, you understand?
If you don't know that,
you're a piece of worm shit.
Hand it over.
I can't.
It's evidence.
You want it so badly, man?
You want that so badly?
Take it and walk right now
'cause I don't give
a shit about you.
Get the fuck out.
Didn't have
any bullets anyway.
♪♪
Come on, we'll settle this
with Marroni.
Come on.
He tried to bugger me, man.
[knock at the door]
Police, open up.
♪♪
[knock at the door]
Police, open up.
[knocks again]
Open up or we're coming in.
You Victor Malarek?
We're looking for a juvenile
named Graham White.
Do you know where he is?
No.
Can we look around?
[man announcing
hockey game on TV]
What's the score?
I don't know.
I was in the can.
If you're the only one here,
why such a big pizza?
'Cause I was hungry.
Why two glasses?
'Cause the maid
forgot to clean up.
Don't forget
to check the oven.
You eat too much
of that stuff,
you're gonna get fat
when you get old.
Harboring an escaped juvenile
is a serious offense.
That ever occur to you?
Score!
[crowd cheering]
Hell of a deflection, eh?
Yeah, wicked shot, man.
Okay, Malarek,
we'd like to stay for tea,
but we got work to do.
Hey, don't forget
to close the door behind you.
♪♪
What's the matter, man?
Hi, boys.
Freddy, how's school?
Victor, what about you?
How come you're here?
They know they got
the wrong guy, these bastards.
How are they
treating you, Mike?
I pay the lawyer.
Don't do me any favors.
He can go to hell.
I didn't come to argue, Mike.
Then why did you come?
Not because you love me,
that's for bloody sure.
I gonna go
if you don't stop this.
Go! Be my guest.
[speaks Ukrainian]
Come, boys.
Let's go.
Freddy, come back.
Come back!
That's my boy.
Now smile, huh?
Come on,
smile for your old man.
Smile-- you're a kid.
You're supposed to be happy.
I can't.
Smile.
No one smiles in here.
♪♪
What?
He just got here.
Others want to visit.
Can you believe
these bastards?
You're my boy, Victor,
remember.
I love you, baby.
I love you!
Always!
[man]
So, to what do I owe
the pleasure of this visit?
Look, I want to know about
these suicides, Mr. Stern.
What suicides? Huh?
What suicides? Huh?
There are no suicides.
You know exactly
what suicides.
I know that you're asking
too many questions
and the cops are getting
pissed off, Malarek.
Just tell me about
these suicides, man.
All right, I'll tell you.
These kids are all Catholic.
Suicides cannot be buried
according to the church,
so they didn't commit
suicide, you capisce?
They do it for the families,
out of respect.
You understand?
Explain something to me here.
You're telling me
that there's nothing wrong
if these kids
are killing themselves
and all that you can do
is make sure that they get
kosher burials?
You're still a schmuck,
Malarek.
I'm a schmuck?
You're still a schmuck.
And you believe what you're
doing, sitting in that chair,
thinking that you're doing
the right thing.
Look, there was a girl,
there was a girl.
Her name is Marie,
she was a suicide.
You have her
in your files here.
I want to know her last name.
Are you going to help me out,
Mr. Asshole, or not?
You're beyond help.
Malarek, the cops
are on to your game
and they're gonna get you.
This time there ain't
gonna be no pushover judge.
I don't see it.
Well, I got
that social worker to admit
that they lie about suicides
so that Catholic kids
could be buried.
And will he go on record?
Well...
I thought you stopped
working on this.
I never said that.
No, I did.
All you've told me is that
they've circled the wagons.
Get the whole story
or there is no story.
And get someone
who will go on record.
Hey.
Why is this stuff
so important to you anyway?
Well, I mean, I care
about these kids, Claire.
Roch, will you buy your own?
Still looking
for that name?
Yeah.
It's Archambault.
Marie Archambault.
And it'll cost you
a case of Jack Daniels.
How did you get it?
You new kids think you gotta
kick ass to get anywhere,
but I learned you get
a lot further if you lick ass.
You certainly have a way
with words, Roch.
Hi, Claire.
So how do you spell it?
A-R-C-H-A-M-B-A-U-L-T.
Friends of yours?
Nice, Victor.
Really nice.
So is there
any address or parents?
Nah, I tried to get one of my
contacts to leak the file,
but it ain't easy.
Thanks a lot.
Excuse me.
Sure.
You goddamn Uke.
Shh!
Yeah, yeah, you really
screwed up this time
with that dementoid thief.
[Roch chuckles]
I told you not to come
to the paper, man.
Yeah, well, I'm 500 bucks out
of pocket 'cause of that jerk.
All right, so report the crime
to the cops, all right?
And I'll mention
something else that Gray said.
Hmm?
Marroni, you owe me one.
If he says that
one more time, I'll kill him.
So what do you want
this kid to do?
Go get a job?
Come on.
I got that police scanner
you wanted.
Hmm?
Nice rat you got here.
Yeah, yeah.
♪♪
[dog barking]
[knocking on door]
[man coughing]
[speaking French]
I'm from "The Tribune."
I called you before.
What you want?
I wanted to ask you
a couple of questions
about your daughter Marie.
Oh.
About Marie,
do you know how she died?
Anything like that?
No.
No?
Cops said something.
Do you know the names
of these cops?
[laughs]
Two big dumb bastards
with moustaches.
They all look the same.
What is it to you?
I think there's something
fishy about her death.
They're covering up
suicides there.
I wouldn't be surprised
if she killed herself.
She was loony.
How do you know
she was loony?
How?
[laughs]
She took off her pants
for everything
that rang at the doorbell.
We had a lot in common.
We hated each other.
Good riddance.
Did you get any communication
from the Juvenile
Detention Centre?
No.
What's that again?
The Montreal Juvenile
Detention Centre,
where she died.
Oh.
Thought she died
over in the nuthouse.
The nuthouse?
Yeah, yeah, um, children's
psycho center somewhere.
I took her myself.
If she was at
the Psychiatric Institute,
how the hell did she end up at
the Juvenile Detention Centre?
Dr. Cranley speaking.
Sir, Marie Archambault
was 15 years old.
Now, she died at the
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Her father tells me
she was in your custody
at the psychiatric institute.
Now, she never broke a law,
so could you please tell me
how the hell she landed
at the other end of town
in a prison?
She committed suicide
at Juvenile Detention.
You call Tom Banks there
and ask him what the hell
kind of place he's running.
You ask him, all right?
Don't bother me.
[dial tone buzzing]
Christ.
He said it.
♪♪
[air conditioner
clatters loudly]
♪♪
[footsteps in hallway]
[footsteps fade]
Ca va?
Oui?
Ca va.
Is anybody sitting here?
Good.
This coffee's cold.
Did any one of you know a girl
named Marie Archambault?
I mean, she killed herself
in some heavy-duty prison
for juveniles.
I mean, her father
had her committed here.
Can anyone tell me how
the hell she ended up there?
Huh?
Do you know what happened?
Are you the police?
No-- I'm sorry.
Police? No.
I'm Victor Malarek.
With "The Tribune."
Why, is that a bad paper?
Look, anything that you
tell me is confidential.
I'm just doing
some background work.
I never reveal my sources,
so you don't have to worry.
Please.
Wait a second, wait!
What are you afraid of?
What are you afraid
of me finding out?
Goddamn it, wait a second!
What are you hiding?
Wait a second, wait a second!
What are you hiding?
♪♪
[siren wailing]
Look, I'm sorry
for dragging you down there.
It's nothing.
Don't worry about it.
The first time I was arrested,
I thought "The Tribune"
would fire me for sure.
You were ar-- wow.
They don't care.
Thanks.
Take care.
You know, knowing a story
is out there is one thing.
It's proving it, it never
seems to get any easier.
You know, I just want
to get this story--
Don't want it so bad.
You'll get it.
Go on, get out of here.
Hey! Hi!
Get out of here, man.
Who's this, your grandma?
This is,
this is my boss, Gray.
Well, Gray.
Get out of here, man.
You stood me up.
Hey, I think I know where
that Mahoney chick lives.
No, I already got her, man.
What about the,
this Marie chick?
She wasn't even supposed to
be at Juvenile Detention.
She was at
some psychiatric place.
A Christmas fruit cake.
She must have been
a Christmas fruit cake.
She was a what?
At Christmas, they used to
send the loony kids
to Detention Centre
because, uh,
their staff was on holidays.
We used to call them
Christmas fruit cakes.
You mean, they send loonies to
prison for the holidays, man?
Let's go
for some burgers, man.
Mr. Banks!
Mr. Banks.
Get out of here.
Sir.
Marie Archambault died here.
Can I ask you
just one question?
No.
Now, what the hell
was she doing here?
She was never even arrested.
No comment.
Does the term
"Christmas fruit cake"
mean anything to you, then?
No.
It doesn't?
All right then, man.
You get a messed-up
little girl
and she kills herself.
We're gonna fry your ass
on the front page.
You know what?
You are dead, Malrich.
You are dead.
Mal-a-rek... Mr. Banks.
Now you get it right.
And you sing it on the way
home, you understand?
Good morning,
"Montreal Tribune."
[Claire]
Victor?
Victor?
Okay, I want to
think about this.
What's wrong?
The writing's rough.
Well, we'll smooth it out.
I told you I wanted it
all on the record,
not just sources.
This stuff
is a lawyer's wet dream.
Come on, Claire.
I want Moorcraft
to take a look at this.
Hello, Victor.
I don't think you've ever
been properly introduced.
This is Mr. Moorcraft.
Victor Malarek, sir.
Hi, Victor.
Please, sit down.
Victor, we've been
discussing your copy.
The accusations
are extremely serious.
And we don't think
you have it.
We can't run this
until you have more
on the record and more facts.
What?
We've put Bill on
to double-check.
I'm sorry, Victor.
I didn't come up with anything
to confirm your story.
Every source I have--
the courts, the police,
social affairs, all denials.
And that social worker,
Harold Stern?
Denies saying that suicides
were covered up
to protect Catholic families.
You're the one who gave me
Marie Archambault's name.
Yeah, but I found out
she died on a weekend pass
from the Children's
Psychiatric Institute.
Then how come Gray saw her
dead at the Detention Centre?
Boys and girls are kept
in separate buildings.
How could he see her?
In the infirmary.
What about
a coroner's report?
It was missing.
I looked for it a whole day.
It says she was found
in the street.
An accidental death.
I also have
a psychiatric file.
It says she was
on a weekend pass,
not transferred
to juvenile detention,
which jives
with the coroner's report.
She wasn't.
Let me see this file.
Well, I don't believe
he has it.
It'll reveal my source.
Victor, I'm on your side.
Now, at one point, you said
you had an adult source
inside juvenile detention.
Who is it?
It'll reveal my source.
You're new, Victor.
We don't know about you.
We know you're ambitious.
Sometimes ambitious people
take shortcuts.
You think I made it up?
Look-- listen, you've got
some good stuff here.
I'm not denying that.
I just propose
sitting on it for a while.
Then how many more kids
do you think will be dead
by then, Mr. Moorcraft?
One, three, 10?
My job's this paper, okay?
We print fact, not fiction.
Okay, my job is to report.
And this is fact, so print it.
All I'm saying is...
Well, what you've given us
reads like tea leaves.
Now I'm going to put
Bill and Claire on it.
They've got
more experience than you.
Bill and Claire?
They have--
Sir, everything here,
everything here, I saw.
Come on, Victor.
How do you know?
What do you want?
What do you want, Claire?
Corpses or what?
Easy, cream and sugar.
Shut up, asshole.
You think like a cop,
you smell like a cop.
The only different
between you and a cop
is you don't have
a stinking badge on your tit.
You calm down, young man.
What are you saying?
You're on my side?
Just calm down.Yeah.
You have the half the town
denying they said
what you said they said.
You attacked
a prison director,
you broke into
a psychiatric institute.
All right.
Okay.
Sir, are you going to let me
keep on this story or what?
No.
You know, Mr. Moorcraft,
you have no idea what goes on,
really, in this city.
You know, these kids,
their families break up
and they're shoved
into some boys' home
with a bunch of other kids
who are treated like animals
and they become bums.
And then they make
one little mistake
and then the whole goddamn--
Are you listening?
The whole system
wants to teach them
a lesson of their young lives
and everybody else
wonders around here
why every little step
they took
was a, was a backward one.
You know, Mr. Moorcraft,
you know,
you're sitting pretty
on your little mansion
up there by the river
with your handed-down paper.
Claire over here can't decide
whether to smoke or sit down
and this guy
can't stop drinking
and you're telling me about
what's going on out there?
Fuck you, man.
Fuck your paper.
Fuck everything.
[chuckling]
Well, that's too bad.
He's a prick.
Pricks make good reporters.
[retching and coughing
♪♪
[man on p.a.]
Welcome to the fifth annual
Pigskin Ball
for the finest high school
team of 1966-- the Stingers!
[band playing twangy
rock and roll]
Go.
No.Go on!
No, no, she'll come here.
Yeah, right.
Come on, go, go, go!
Look at that guy,
he's so gorgeous.
Thank you.
[playing slow song]
Who's that guy?
My boyfriend.
♪ You came along
when I was down ♪
♪ We went out... ♪
[girls screaming]
[bottle shatters]
[girls screaming]
My dad died of cancer
two years ago, man.
He beat you?
No.
Nor my brother.
Never did.
I taught you to fight clean,
not with a bottle!
I didn't do it, Pops!
Victor, the police said
the boy may die.
Mom--
Did I teach you
to fight like an animal?
Come on, punk, come on!
You bum!
Get out of here!
My dad.
He used to beat the shit
out of my mom, man.
He was a disgusting drunk,
but he was a good guy.
I loved him, you know?
I didn't understand why.
Anyway, the hell with it.
Gone.
To Vic, man.
My best friend.
Split till you're 18,
then juvie court
won't be able to touch you.
Yeah.
Go to the United States.
Go to New Orleans
like you always said, huh?
What are you
going to do now, man?
Work for another paper?
You ever been
to New Orleans, man?
Huh-uh.
My dad used to tell me
that they bury their dead
above ground there
so they won't forget them.
Isn't that wild?
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, man, me and you.
We blast off.
Blast off to New Orleans, man.
Huh?
[imitates car engine]
With what money?
We can pull a score.
You're crazy, man.
It's easy, man.
I've done it.
No.
They're gonna send you away.
It's your only out.
Marroni, I'm in
enough shit, all right?
All right, you wait till
you're on the inside, okay?
You just wait.
Ask your old man.
Ask your old man
what they do to 17-year-olds.
You won't be able
to sit down for a month.
Look, it's
your only out, man.
I need some cigarettes.
A pack of Exports, sir.
What are you doing?
Bastard, shit, fuck!
What are you doing?Shut up!
Open it, all the money, now!
Leave him alone!
Just watch, boss.
Shit, get the knife, quick!
What are you
fucking doing, man?
Stop it!
I'll kill you!
The gun!
What are you doing?
No, no!
Run, run!
Now what, man?
Just go!
You asshole!
♪♪
Stop! Police!
[gunshots]
Stop!
That's for making me
run, punk.
[siren wailing]
Who's the other kid, punk?
I was alone.
Look, we're talking
armed robbery with assault.
Maybe attempted murder.
So what's his name?
I said I was alone.
Stand fast, man.
♪♪
[grunting]
Trying to escape, huh?
[laughs]
Now, who is your accomplice?
[grunting and groaning]
I hope you brought
your parachute, kid.
[laughs]
No!
[grunts]
For the last time,
what's his name?
[barking and growling]
What is this place?
It's the Montreal
Juvenile Detention Centre.
They know
what to do with scum.
[sniffs]
Ugh...
Hey!
The sheets are wet!
[man]
Sheets are changed
once a week!
Well, fuck you, I ain't
sleeping in a goddamn urinal!
[punching and grunting]
Don't like wet sheets,
huh, kid?
[unzips]
[urinating]
No! No!
[guards laughing]
You were arrested
twice in 24 hours.
Two people are in hospital,
but I can call
and make a deal.
What's his name?
You're helping some kid
you'll never see.
He's out getting laid,
spending your cash.
What's his name?
[bangs table]
Who is he?
[spits]
[screaming]
Hello, Victor.
Where's Pop?
How they treating you?
They may try you as an adult
because you will be 18 soon.
I can't take it here anymore.
[sobbing]
You are young, Victor.
A lifetime is
a long, long time.
It's not over.
We didn't make it
easy for you, Victor.
You're a fighter.
You fight for yourself now.
Fight.
Fight, Victor.
Fight.
♪♪
I'm sorry.
Probably recognize it
'cause it probably has
a ticket on it or something.
[engine starts]
Hey! Hey!
[man]
Following suspect one,
Gray White,
escaped from
Juvenile Detention Centre.
Suspect two, Victor Malarek,
for harboring a juvenile.
This guy's drunk.
This guy's so drunk
we had to run after his car.
This guy's so drunk
he lost his Dodge
and his job the same day.
Stop, stop!
Hey!
Stop or I'll shoot!
[fires into air]
[fires]
No, no! No!
No...!
♪♪
Now we've got two guns.
Yes.
That's what Victor Malarek
told you.
The boy your cop shot
didn't have a gun
because Gray White had it.
One of those guns
was planted by your men.
This Mr. Malarech--
Malarek.
Whatever.
Now he's wanted
for contributing
to juvenile delinquency
and for withholding
evidence, correct?
Yes.
And nobody knows where he is.
That's correct.
Well, I'd like to know how
many guns and how many kids
Mr. Malarek has
before we change our ruling.
Thank you.
Adjourned.
Claire.
Better sit down.
What is it?
You wanted to know
about Malarek?
Yeah.
Here's Malarek.
Miss, just a minute
of your time.
It's about Marie Archambault
and I know that you know
what happened.
Look, I can't help you.
No one will know
that you're my source.
Everyone will know.
Okay, then call me later.
Look, call me later.
Just tell me your name now.
She's dead.
What about the next kid?
Come on.
Maybe I'll call you
at your paper.
I don't work there anymore.
I can explain.
Can't you see
you're bothering the lady?
Are you okay, Elena?
Elena, Elena, please!
[man on police radio]
All cars sector five,
brawl at Popeye's Poolroom--
No luck, huh?
No.
Repeat, all cars,
sector five---
This is a lot better
than that crap.
Do you want to help me out?
Hey, I owe you one.
[Roch]
95 and still turning tricks.
[men]
Roch, Roch, Roch, Roch, Roch.
He tells that to every
new kid on the block.
How many?
None.
None?Stand pat.
I'll take one, please.
Five.
[all]
Five?
[alarm ringing]
Car 17-12, break-in
at 1283 Ontario East.
I repeat, break-in
at Miss Royal Jewelry,
1283 Ontario East.
17-12, code three.
Okay, kid.
You'll see how an ace does it.
You forgetting
your equipment there?
♪♪
[grenade pin clinks]
[explosion]
Car 17-12 at
1283 Ontario East, I repeat,
assist car 17-12 at Miss Royal Jewelry, 1283 Ontario--
Looks like you're
playing solitaire, Roch.
Explosion
at municipal courthouse.
All available units,
code three.
I repeat, explosion
at municipal courthouse,
all available units,
code three.
Must be the full moon.
It's a crazy night.
You'll have to mind the store.
Put that down and go.
Go.
I don't want
to call the police.
Why not?
Everybody else has.
Victor, I'm sorry about Gray.
You were right about the other
kid not having a gun,
but you're wrong
about doing this.
I came for Marie Archambault's
file and...
could you get arrested
for stealing your own file?
And could you tell me what you
people were doing with this?
No apologies.
I'm a reporter.
I wanted
to understand you better.
You wanted to
understand me better?
Don't you understand that you
can't ever understand?
It helped me to.
This is theft, lady.
This is theft.
Theft?Yeah.
Look at yourself.
You're still
breaking and entering.
You haven't changed.
You've been lying to me
from the start.
Journalism school?
Christ, you were
thrown out of high school.
Lying, Claire?
What did you expect me to do?
Come up to you and say,
"Look, I haven't finished high
school, I have no education,
could you please hire me
as a reporter?"
That's what you expect me to--
would you have hired me?
I'm trying to get
out of this shit, Claire.
Lie?
You people lie every day
by not printing the truth.
Now, I want
Marie Archambault's file.
I don't know where it is.
Where the hell is it?
I don't know--
Roch may have returned it.
Victor.
You know...
You were right.
You can't really trust
anybody in this business.
You were right.
Victor, the story's
still yours.
[knocking on door]
Who's there?
Open it up, Stern.
Malarek?
Yep.
Get the hell out of here
or I'll call the cops.
Open the friggin' door, man!
Open it up!
Crazy young punk, you're gonna
wake up the whole city.
Now get out of here
or I'm gonna call the cops.
Hey, you're my social worker.
I need some social work done.
I'm not a psychiatric
social worker.
Yeah? Well, how about
some legal advice then?
Uh, someone leaked
my juvenile file to Bill Roch!
Big shot reporter
complaining about leaks.
That's my personal file, man.
There is nothing personal
about armed robbery.
Fuckin' bitch...
Man, I knew you were a bastard
when I first met you
and you're a fucking
bastard now, man.
You get out of here.
This is not the boys' home,
this is civilization!
Get out of here.
Marie Archambault's file.
You gave it to Bill Roch
and I want it.
You still looking to blame
your life on somebody else?
Well, not me.
I was doing my job.
I didn't write the laws,
I didn't create the policies.
I just did my best.
Tough! If you don't
like it, tough.
That's life.
There's no one to blame.
Yeah? What about
Marie Archambault?
What?
What about
Marie Archambault, man?
What about Petrucci?
What about Mahoney?
What about Graham White?
Graham White?
You know, the reason
that I gave Bill your file
is because you are the most
self-righteous bastard
I ever saw in my whole life.
You had that kid.
You had him and he was alive
and now he's dead
and you could have saved him!
You talk to me about blame?
That kid was 15 years old.
You get out of here
before I puke.
No, wait a second,
wait a second.
If you give me Marie's file,
I can prove that it was faked.
She's dead, it's too late.
She's dead!
Well, what about the next kid?
And the kid after that?
That's my job.
Then I pity them.
You pity them, huh?
Just the way you pitied
the grocer and his wife?
Just the way that you pitied
that kid that
you almost blinded?
The only one you
ever pitied was yourself.
That's why you're still
looking for bad guys.
Well, look again.
Go look in a mirror.
You'll see yourself.
You know, you're getting
to be, getting to be
just like your father
was, Malarek!
♪♪
Order, please.
I have thought about your
case for a long time, Victor.
You maimed three people.
Your social worker recommends
a sentence
in a detention center,
one which will show you
firsthand
what's in store
for criminals in our society.
Listen, you dried-up bastard,
you're not gonna
put my son away!
Quiet! Quiet!
Dad!He's a kid!
Order, or I'll hold you
in contempt.
Hold me wherever you want.
Remove him
from the court, please.
Put me away!
It's my fault!
No, it has nothing
to do with you!
You know what kind of life
he's had 'cause of me?
Put me away!
I don't care!
I been there.
He's a smart boy.
But if you put him away,
you're gonna have yourself
another criminal for life.
Is that what you want?
I've never given him a chance!
He can do it!
Don't fuck up his life!
I love you, Victor.
I love you too.
I'm sorry.
I love you, baby.
[sobbing]
Well, Victor, your father
needs to learn a lot
about decorum and perhaps,
a lot about being a parent.
But he obviously
has a lot of faith in you.
He seems to think
that he knows more
about you than we do.
I have always espoused
the belief
that family can help
more than institutions.
I'm going to let you
go free, Victor.
You will remain
a ward of the court
until you are 21 years of age.
So now it's up to you.
Only you can do it.
Good luck.
Court is recessed.
♪♪
[sobbing]
Mr. Stern? Mr. Stern?
Please, can I talk to you
for a minute?
I'm sorry about before.
Please, could you just
come to the door
and I just want to talk
to you for a few minutes
and then I'm gone.
You're not gonna see
my face around here again.
Please.
Just-- please...
You know you,
you've always been a part
of a rotten system, right?
And here's your one chance,
just for once,
to do something decent.
I mean, everybody-- somebody
gave me a chance once, right?
And I'm alive.
Now here's your turn.
You're not sitting behind
a desk right now,
so stop protecting the system
and talk, do something.
I mean, these kids,
they don't have anybody
looking after them.
Only you can do that.
You could change it.
You can do it.
Wait, please.
♪♪
Just remember,
we were tough on you
and that's why you survived.
Don't ever forget that.
♪♪
[rings doorbell]
Please.
I just--No.
--wanna talk to you.
Just for two minutes.
Please let me in, Elena,
I need to talk to you.
I said no.
I have Marie's file.
The entries are in your name.
Please.
Just listen to me
for two seconds.
I'm going to wait out here
till you come out.
I'm not going anywhere.
Marie killed herself
at the Juvenile Detention.
Now, she was transferred there
because of
the Christmas holidays
from the psychiatric
institute where you work.
Now, but this file here says
that she wasn't transferred,
it says that she was
released for the weekend.
It's been tampered
with, right?
She wastransferred
to Juvenile Detention.
I saw her leave myself.
Okay.
Now will you go on record
as saying that?
Okay, why?
I like my job
too much to lose it.
We'll make sure
that you don't lose it.
How?
Well--
Okay.
I can't help you.
I wish I could.
I don't know what to tell you.
All right.
Just let me read you
something that I--
Wait a second.
All right, you wrote here,
"Marie is a lonely girl,
sad and scarred.
"Her mother committed suicide
when she was seven.
"From the time she was nine,
"her father would bring her
to the local bar
and sell her for drinks."
Okay.
"Progress being made.
"Marie is trusting me
with deeper secrets.
"Being raped by her father.
She fears that she will kill
him one day or kill herself."
Would you please stop?
This is something
that you wrote
the day before she was sent to
the Juvenile Detention to die
because of the holidays.
"Marie has told me
she has a crush on Billy.
"This and Christmas
is putting a smile
where no one has ever
seen one before."
Please leave.
You have to help me.
Will you go?
Why?Go...
You have to--Go!
[muttering,
sobbing quietly]
Are you okay?
No, I'm not okay.
I'm not okay.
I-- come from a broken home.
My father was in jail.
I was in,
in all these foster homes
and then I ended up
in a boys' home.
I was involved in
knife fights, armed robbery.
Then I ended up
in Juvenile Detention.
I'm alive, Elena,
by a fucking miracle.
I was one of those kids.
You know...
I wanna help these kids.
Nobody cares about them.
Hello.
Hello.
[man]
So you're back, Victor?
Hey, look who's back.
♪♪
[woman]
Mr. Banks,
Mr. Victor Malarek is here.
Malarek?
[chuckles]
You're kidding.
Just keep him out there
and call the cops.
Hello, Mr. Banks.
I'm sorr--No, it's okay.
Just call the police.
No, please,
call the police now.
Good, saves me a dime.
Now we got you, Malarek,
you little punk ass.
Now you're yesterday's beer,
my friend.
Oh, yeah?Yeah.
Okay, while we wait, Banks,
I'd like you to take a look
at something
that's gonna be
in the afternoon paper.
Wanna know if you have
any comments
or wish to
refute it even, hmm?
Proves you lied, man.
Proves you
falsified documents.
Proves you covered up the
suicides of Marie Archambault,
Paul Mahoney and Al Petrucci
and God knows what else.
It proves you're a disgusting,
incompetent ass
who's about two hours away
from being the biggest
scandal in the country.
You son of a bitch!
It's okay.
I'm used to having guns
pointed at me.
And even if you shoot me,
that's still gonna go through.
Now you listen, Malarek.
Who cares what some
little social worker
thinks she remembers?
I changed
the coroner's report,
I changed our files,
her files.
There is not one shred
of evidence left to prove
that Marie Archambault
was ever in this place.
Is that the confirmation
you need?
Yeah-- a confession and two
witnesses is usually enough.
May I?
If I'm arrested,
the paper's gonna
have me out in two minutes.
But you're gonna be in
for a long, long time.
And I hope they put you away
in a fucking disgusting
place as this one.
It's Claire.
Print it.
Whoo...!
[cocks gun]
No, please don't.
I got this thing
about suicides.
♪♪
Hey!
[all whooping and laughing]
World on fire,
cream and sugar!
Welcome to the club, buddy!
No more cream and sugar
for you, buddy.
Now it's only good times.
♪♪