The Untouchables (1959–1963): Season 3, Episode 6 - Loophole - full transcript

I'll level with you, Eliot.

I'm being pressured.

I mean, I'm really in a squeeze.

I-I may end up
behind the eight ball.

No deals.

No deals.

No deals!

No feeling, no heart.

Like a talking machine.

What do you care?

As long as you
chalk up another win,



you hang another
scalp on your belt!

What's the difference if
it happens to be mine?

Who do you think
you are, Mr. Ness?

Who are you to decide
who lives, who dies?

No deals.

Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert
Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Martin
Landau, Gavin MacLeod

and George Tobias.

With special guest
star Jack Klugman.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

In the latter half of 1932,

the Untouchables had
been training their big guns

on Mikhail "Red Mike" Provitch,



who had hard-fisted his
way up from the docks

to a top spot in Chicago's
hierarchy of crime.

In January 1933, they
were ready to move.

Hey, not bad at all.

Way over last week.

Tuesday night was big.

Big?

Great.

For the middle of the week,

I've never seen
anything like it.

Relax!

Let me go, let me go.

The ledger was damning evidence,

and when the case went
to court a few weeks later,

the prosecution also had
the promised testimony

of Connie Laverne and the girls.

Red Mike Provitch
was as good as in jail.

There was one stumbling block:

Morton Halas, the
defense attorney.

Ness had tangled
with him before.

Halas made no
effort to keep Provitch

from testifying, but he
had coached him well.

On the stand, Provitch lied
blandly, easily, convincingly.

So did the witnesses: all four

that District Attorney
Harker Wade had counted on.

They were shocked
by the implications

and the prosecutor's questions.

One after the other, under oath,

suffered a sudden,
convenient loss of memory.

On the fifth day of trial,

fighting desperately
to make up lost ground,

Wade was dealt
another telling blow.

Your Honor, I must
report a most untimely loss.

A very important piece of
evidence has disappeared.

If the prosecution
wishes a continuance...

I don't think it
would help, sir.

I think the evidence was stolen.

Objection.

Statement is opinion
and prejudicial.

Sustained.

Of course, the witness
wouldn't have any idea

what happened to that ledger.

I don't know what
you are talking about.

A brownstone house
on North Larson Street.

You have testified
that you own it,

and you rent it to
Miss Connie LaVerne.

What sort of club do you
suppose she was running there?

What do you think,
she's going to tell me?

You were there often enough.

Sure, every week
to collect the rent.

I thought she was running
an agency for models.

That's all for now, Your Honor.

Does the defense
wish to cross-examine?

No cross-examination.

The witness may step down.

It isn't over yet.

We've still got Connie.

She's 80% of the case.

At this point, she's all of it.

Your Honor, the
prosecution would like

to call Miss Connie LaVerne.

Objection.

On what grounds?

A wife can't testify
against her husband,

and Miss LaVerne
happens to be Mrs. Provitch.

Since when?

Oh, since almost a week.

Half an hour later, the
case went to the jury,

and in another half
hour, the jury was back.

Mr. Foreman, have
you reached a verdict?

Yes, we have, Your Honor.

We find the
defendant not guilty.

Will the attorney
for the defense

come forward, please?

Mr. Halas...

the court has every
reason to believe

that witnesses in this
trial have been suborned,

vital evidence stolen

and due process
reduced to a mockery.

I've occupied this bench
for a great number of years,

and I have never watched

such an arrogant
rape of justice!

Now, I promise you, Mr. Halas,

I'll do everything in my
power to have you disbarred.

This case is dismissed.

Ah, tonight, we have a
little celebration, huh?

Sure your wife's
going to let you out?

Congratulations!

So, you take another one.

Some days, you're
just lucky, huh?

Some days, you're crooked.

No conscience, no respect

for yourself or your profession.

You know he's guilty.

Let me tell you
something, Mr. Ness.

I don't have to believe
my client is innocent.

I just have to prove it.

Have some candy.

Mr. Halas... can
you spare a minute?

Alone?

Excuse me.

I'm here for Larry Coombs.

I guess you know about him.

I know about him.

I figured you would.

And he wants to talk to you.

Some kind of law business.

He said to come to his place.

If he wants to
talk about horses,

women or baseball,
I go to his place.

He wants to talk about
the law, he comes to mine.

Will you take your
hands off me, please?

Everybody wants something.

A goon... he works
for Larry Coombs.

I hear this Coombs
is coming up fast.

Too fast... you're
buying trouble.

I didn't buy.

You worry about me?

All the time.

We got some big plans for you.

Like what? Like
about 20 years to life.

Like I told you,
Larry said his place.

In a newly leased penthouse
high above Michigan Avenue,

a former acid man for
the old Bugs Moran crowd

awaited the arrival of Halas.

His name: Larry Coombs.

Spawned by Prohibition, he
was climbing to a new level

in Chicago's hierarchy of crime.

Take your hands off me.

You wanted him, you got him.

Next time, you learn
how to treat my lawyer.

Outside.

They don't know no better.

Hey, come on.

Can I buy you a drink?

No drink, no business.

I'm exclusively with Provitch.

Oh, there ain't no
percentage in that.

Provitch is dead.

Ask me, he had it coming to him.

Big, loudmouthed slob
pushing people around.

He was good to me.

So, I'm going to be better.

Say you cleared one of
his mugs for running booze.

What did Provitch pay you?

Couple of grand.

I'm going to double.

A narco rap?

Five.

I'm going to give you ten.

Murder.

Win or lose, 20 grand.

I'm kicking it up to 35.

You talk big numbers.

I'm a big man.

Recognize that merchandise?

Grey Stag... it's one
of Capone's labels.

Yeah.

It's the biggest item they got.

They can't meet the demand,

so I'm going to build
a little plant for them.

I make it, they
handle the distribution.

Me and the Capone
mob, we're partners.

Did they go to Provitch?

No.

They come to me... me.

Three years, I've been
working and waiting.

Now I'm in.

Now it's me and Nitti,

so I can talk numbers
as big as I like.

Provitch is dead?

Yeah, yeah.

You'd better save, uh,
Wednesday afternoon.

Be a lot of talk if
you miss the funeral.

Who knocked him over?

Ain't nothing you
can do about it.

Who knocked him over?

One of my boys.

When?

Tomorrow night.

♪ ♪

Mike Provitch still operated

the small poolroom
on the North Side,

where he had started his
long climb from the docks.

His reasons were not
entirely sentimental.

Each night, the take
from half a dozen rackets

was collected here.

And each night, Provitch
stopped to pick it up.

Shut up and move over.

Come on, come on.

Come on, you.

It's done... let's move!

I seen them!

I seen them!

I seen them.

Honest, I'd know him anywhere.

Are you sure he's the
one who did the shooting?

Well, sure. He was
sitting in the car.

He shot him after the other
guy I showed you came out

of the poolroom and
got in the front seat.

Look, I couldn't
forget a thing like this.

I never seen
anybody killed before.

Thank you. We believe you.

His name's Rossi.

He'll drive you home.

Why don't you call me Rico?

I'll be around for a while.

Let's go.

Larry Coombs.

Well, he got rid of Provitch.

He did us a big favor.

Not if he's putting
on Provitch's hat.

I should have known he
was going for something big.

He tried to buy
insurance yesterday.

Insurance?

He tried to make
a deal with Halas.

And?

Count your blessings.

Halas turned him down cold.

Provitch! Provitch!

All over the papers!

You talk such a big game,

and then you pull a
two-bit stunt like this!

If I want your
advice, I'll ask for it.

You do your talking in court.

You pay me to
keep you out of court.

And you're not
giving me much edge!

Blasting away like
the Fourth of July!

Come one, come
all, see the big show!

Nobody seen us. Nobody.

That late at night,
who's even awake?

You'd be surprised.

I, uh...

I think you know my
client, Mr. Coombs?

You bought yourself
a pretty good lawyer.

You're going to need him.

I don't need a lawyer to know

you're way off base
unless you've got a warrant.

One for you, one for him.

What's the charge?

Murder.

The Provitch killing last night.

That's a hot one.

Why you, uh... Uh.

Can I have a minute
to talk to my client?

One minute.

We'll be outside.

You.

Come on.

You're not, uh, letting
them take me in, are you?

He's got a warrant.

He's got a warrant,
he's got a lot more.

You get me out, huh?

Whitey, too.

I'm a lawyer, not
a miracle worker.

You're a lawyer.

That's what I bought you for.

Look, you're getting top dollar.

You'd better earn it!

That's him.

Hey, mister?

Excuse me.

Ain't you the, uh, foreman

of the jury that
was just picked?

For the Provitch killing?

Yeah.

I want to ask you something.

Something you
wanted to, uh, ask?

No. That's... That's all right.

The one witness in the case

against Larry Coombs
and Whitey Metz

had been moved
to a small apartment

on the south side of Chicago.

He was being held under
tight protective custody.

It's awful quiet.

Almost too quiet.

What time is it?

A little after 2:00.

You ought to relax.

No use all of us losing sleep.

You'll be out of it soon.
The trial starts tomorrow.

They still got tonight.

You check the stairs?

We've checked the stairs.

But we'll check 'em again.

Let's check outside, hmm?

Hold it!

Halas never tried
anything this stupid before.

Maybe he's not trying it now.

Coombs?

Maybe Halas told him
he hasn't got a chance.

The trial itself seemed
to bear out Ness.

Halas had been
checked at every point.

The judge was notably
above corruption.

The jury had been carefully
screened and guarded.

The witness held
under close protection.

The defense seemed to
have no plan, no strategy.

The government
made damaging points,

almost without
objection or challenge.

On March 2, 1933,
late in the afternoon,

the trial was concluded.

Confident of a quick decision,
the court instructed the jury

to begin deliberations
immediately.

This court is now in recess.

Take care of this.

You've done your job.

Why don't you go home?

I want to watch you
take a licking for once.

No sense in turning
it into a wake.

How about some casino?

Why not?

Call me, Lee.

The way they act, you'd
think they liked each other.

Well, they don't.

More like respect, I'd say.

Like two good fighters
climbing into a ring.

They have to respect each other.

Unless one of them wanted
to get his ears knocked off.

Good deuce.

It's your lucky day, huh?

You're not scared of weight?

Why?

My old man weighed in at
250, hung around till he was 91.

91. That's a ripe old age.

Not ripe. Rotten.

He was a louse.

Every Saturday morning,
he bought a bottle.

Every Saturday night,
he drank me a licking.

Should have done a better job.

I wouldn't be having so
much trouble with you now.

Got so I could time it.

When it was halfway
down the label.

You were a fool to
stand and wait for it.

I didn't.

I clobbered him with a
baseball bat one night.

That's when I left.

You talk about candy.

Hey, I was the kid with his
nose against the window. I...

The only thing
that kept me going,

I used to say to
myself, "Someday...

"Someday, I'm gonna
have so much money,

"nobody will ever
take it away from me.

Nobody, never!"

And now it's someday,
and I got all the candy I want.

The Cavanaugh case
didn't buy you much.

He was innocent.

He was broke.

You put in two
years on the case,

spent your own money.

I wondered why you took it.

For laughs.

Change of pace, you might say.

What a lawyer you
could have been.

What a lawyer I am.

You know how much
I made last year?

200 grand. How about that?

There's more dirty money
around than I thought.

Dirty?

Dirty?!

What do you know about dirt?!

What do you know
about sleeping in alleys?

What do you know
about fighting a rat

for an old piece of bread?

There's dirt for
you. There's dirt!

Six summers
working the ore boats.

Winter, tending the furnaces.

Listen, I got dirt in here
I can't ever scrub it out!

I can't ever scrub it out!

Never!

What were you doing, Mr. Ness?

Dusting off some dame's
chair at the junior prom?

I was out in the
kitchen washing dishes.

Nobody paid my way through.

Listen.

You think it's just the money?

Well, you're wrong.

Every time I smack you down...

You and all your
nice clean friends...

I'm putting clothes
on a dirty kid's back,

and I'm slipping
candy into his pocket.

Eliot, the jury's coming in.

Thanks.

How do we stand?

You must be way ahead.

Don't be a fool, Ness.

Never forget a score.

The accused will
come forward, please.

Is the counsel for
the defense here?

I'm here, Your Honor.

What?!

Your Honor, I realize

I'm violating all
judicial procedure,

but certain new
testimony has developed

which must vitally affect
the verdict in this case.

I ask the court's indulgence
only in the name of justice.

If His Honor will admit
additional testimony

at this late hour.

In the name of
justice, Mr. Halas.

Will Mr. Gus Kleeber
step forward, please?

Your Honor, you
have the wrong ones.

They didn't kill Provitch.

I killed him.

Order!

Let's have order in the court!

Bailiff, clear the court!

Get those gentlemen out!

And now, back to
The Untouchables.

Still insisting that he
had killed Provitch,

Gustave Kleeber
was booked for murder

and remanded to
the Cook County Jail.

Awaiting trial, he was
assigned to the prison laundry.

All right, let's
try it once more.

You say you stabbed him

and tossed the
knife into the lake.

And you shot him with this gun.

That's right.

The serial number's filed off.

No way of checking it.

Where'd you get it?

I bought it from a man.

Who?

I don't remember.

You bought it and loaded it,
then went and killed Provitch.

That's right.

Break it.

Break it?

Open the cylinder.

You bought it and loaded it.

You must know how to break it.

You never used that gun.

You don't know a trigger
from a second baseman.

You didn't kill Provitch.

I've told you before.

I tell you again.

I killed him!

I'm ready to pay for it.

What about your family?

Do you want them to pay, too?

I have no family.

There is nobody.

Lee, I want you and
Rico to start digging.

I want to know about Kleeber...

Where he lives, where he works,

what he eats, reads, and wears.

I want to know him
better than his own mother.

We can start you off;
he's got an attorney.

Who? Halas.

He's upstairs in
the office right now

filing for an interview.

Hmm, Kleeber's
traveling first class.

He can afford it.

He's not paying for it.

Pretty good, eh?

Everything the latest, the best.

I'm gonna turn out
500 cases a day.

When?

What do you mean when?

As soon as these
stumblebums finish up.

I get rid of them, I
start moving full speed.

When?

What do you want, a timetable?

I don't want.

Frank Nitti wants.

He said to tell you
he's got commitments.

You're way behind
with your promise, Larry.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,

but that lousy trial
held me up, you know.

Look, look, I did
Nitti a favor, right,

rubbing Ness's nose in the dirt?

Now, just tell Frank to relax.

I'm moving now.

I'll be operating
full scale in a week.

I'll tell him.

Hiya, Mort.

What's eating you?

What's the matter?
Kleeber's getting jumpy.

Now, what about the payoff?

Now, look, you
know I've been busy.

Okay, okay, I'll
take care of it today.

How much did we promise him?

Five grand, huh?

Ten.

We promised him ten
and we'll give him ten.

Look, you know, I
got a lot on my mind.

Okay, I'll have Whitey
get the bank draft today.

What else?

What else? You'd
better call Frank Nitti

and tell him the truth.

You make him a promise,
you'd better keep it.

Oh, I figure to.

How?

You can't get this
joint running in a week.

You haven't even
got the coils yet.

I'm getting 'em. Where?

You try to buy copper
coils in this town,

you'll have Ness on your
back asking "What for?"

Don't worry, don't worry,
he won't be on my back.

And I'll have 'em in.

When?

Tonight.

I'm getting a good bargain, too.

What have you got?

I found this letter under
the lining in that drawer.

I'm late.

I had to run over
to the north side.

What's up?

Somebody knocked
over a distillery last night.

I'll fill you in later.

Get anything?

I don't know; I can't
handle German.

Maybe Mrs. Schoenbrun can.

It is not right.

A letter is a private thing.

What if we're trying
to help Mr. Kleeber?

It's from Berlin,
from his father.

He was in some
difficulties with the Nazis.

He is in prison.

But he talked with
a vermittler, and...

A what?

Oh, a, uh...

man that stands
in the middle... a...

how do you say it?

A go-between.

Yeah, someone who goes between.

His name and address are here.

And he can get the
father out of prison.

And they will even shut their
eyes when he crosses the border,

if the son will send
money, $10,000.

This is why Herr
Kleeber killed someone?

For the money?

We don't know that
he killed anyone.

We just know he says he did.

Is there anything else?

Nothing else.

It just says,

"Your loving father,
Heinrich Kleeber."

And underneath it says only,

"Please, my son, please."

It's very bad in Germany now.

Thank you, Mrs. Schoenbrun.

Where'd you get this?

It was under the
lining in that drawer.

Yes, of course.

I know him quite well.

I've been treating
him for several years.

Walter, get me this
case history, will you?

Kleeber's one of our regulars.

Comes in every week
when he's able to.

I saw him just a few days ago.

A nice little man.

Four years in December.

I remember how pleased we were.

We'd no right to expect
it with a heart like his.

It's that bad?

Well, he's had two
coronaries already.

He can't possibly
survive a third.

I'm afraid the prognosis
is definitely negative.

How much time
would you say he had?

If you pin me down,
six months at most.

I guess Kleeber could
afford to sell his life.

And Coombs could
afford the $10,000 to buy it.

Thank you, Doctor.

I'll walk you out.
I'm due on the ward.

This goes back in the file.

Yes?

Mr. Halas?

This is Walter Horn over
at the clinic, remember?

Hey, now you take it easy.

Them coils are expensive.

I just got a call
from the clinic.

Ness was there.

So what?

So he finds out
Kleeber's got a bum ticker.

So what's that prove, huh?

You know your
trouble? You worry.

Well, when I stop,
you'd better start.

Ah, come off it. Now,
what's to worry about, huh?

Kleeber.

You're just jittery.

Did you send that
money to Germany?

Look, I told you I would.

How much?

How much?!

Five grand.

Now look!

He's going to kick off anyway.

The whole deal ain't worth
more than five grand, right?

It's worth it to me! You
pull another fast one

like this and I'm out.
Now is that plain enough?

I'm out... Now, listen up!

You're out when
I say you're out.

And don't you forget it.

Take your hands off me.

You'd better remember something.

I'm no two-bit punk
you can push around!

I'm the only odds you've got.

You walk into that
court without me,

you're like a turtle
without a shell.

Now, you take 'em off, huh?

And I tell you, five grand
isn't worth a chance.

Suppose Kleeber
finds out he's crossed?

Suppose he talks to Ness?

He ain't gonna talk.

One word, that's all it takes.

You're in the electric
chair, I'm disbarred.

Just relax.

I told you, he ain't gonna talk.

Guard! Guard!

Coombs' accomplice
inside the jail

was subjected to
long interrogation.

He kept insisting it
had been an accident.

Kleeber, had
complained of feeling ill.

Apparently overcome by
fumes from the bleaches,

he had lost his balance
and fallen into the vat.

Facing another defeat by Coombs,

Ness got help from
an unexpected source.

Ridge endings.

Cores and deltas.

Islands and dots...

Not much question
it matches the file.

I'd say identification
is positive.

One little print like
that may be just enough

to put the skids under Coombs.

It'll be a pleasure.

Yeah, he's been
working too hard anyway.

Maybe we can give
him a nice, long vacation.

Thanks a lot, Charlie.

To Florida!

How many guys would
Nitti call up like that, huh?

Just ring up on
the phone and say,

"Hey, come on down
to Florida for a week,

with the boys."

With the boys! You
know what that means?

That means I'm going to be big.

Big, big.

Big like you ain't
never seen big.

Too big and maybe
Frank Nitti won't like it.

So what?

How big I'm going to be

won't make no
difference what Nitti likes.

Ness!

You've got a lot of
nerve coming in...

All right, I'll do the talking!

What do you want? Him.

Whitey?

He got a little
sloppy last night.

Left his prints on
a federal distillery.

What's the charge?

Breaking and entering,
larceny, assault and battery...

Take your pick.

Don't you worry about a thing.

We'll have you out of there
before you even know you're in!

Don't hold your breath.

"Breaking and entering."

Penny-ante stuff.

Don't sound like Ness
is too busy these days.

Don't write him off.

He doesn't want
Whitey, he wants you.

He'll hold him on
any charge he can

and try to sweat
something out of him.

About what? About
Provitch, maybe.

So what can he prove
if Kleeber's dead, huh?

If he's dead.

What are you talking about?

I'm on record as
Kleeber's attorney.

I've had no official word
of his death, all right?

You can't get away
with this, Wade.

You or Eliot Ness!

What makes you think
you can hold Whitey Metz?

Breaking and entering,
larceny, assault and battery...

Now, they're all admissible
to bail, you know that.

You know the law.

As it happens, this
is not a matter of law,

it's a matter of health.

There's been some
trouble at the jail.

I'm afraid that whole
floor is quarantined.

What kind of trouble?

The doctors aren't quite sure.

Well, uh, since I'm here,

I can stop in and
see Kleeber, huh?

I'm sorry, he had an accident.

He can't see anybody.

All right.

You can keep me
away for a while,

but even the plague
didn't last forever.

I'm afraid he's a long
way from giving up.

He's going to keep on trying.

Till he and Coombs
make a mistake.

I don't know.

He'd have to be pretty
scared about Kleeber.

He is.

Not one word.

A man gets killed in
jail, not one lousy word.

So that's the stinkin'
newspapers we got.

Hey, come on, come on, come on.

Let's drink a toast, huh?

To Provitch.

To Provitch who
made all this possible.

Wait till you see how I'm going
to fix this place up... beautiful.

Get some new girls in here,

I'll triple the
business Provitch did.

Hey, look, look.

Did it ever occur to you
maybe Kleeber's not news?

A nobody, a nothing,
no way important...

He's important to Ness.

No more, no more. He's dead!

You keep saying "he's dead."

Well, he is!

Look, he's got
to be dead, right?

A guy with a bum
ticker like that?

After what he got?

Did your boy see him dead?

Well, no he didn't see him dead.

What's he supposed to do,
stick around and take his pulse?

But he's dead. Don't you figure
nothing different, he's dead.

You understand?

So?

So I done what you said.
I been asking around.

Well, so what?

The word's out.

Ness is all set to burn Whitey.

What, for breaking and entering?

For Provitch.

He's nuts. He ain't
even close to a case.

I tell you, Ness has got
something up his sleeve.

He's got some kind
of special witness.

I don't know what he's got.

Kleeber.

There's something
funny going on.

Something funny
and I don't like it.

First they tell me
I'm quarantined,

now, they send you in here.

And Ness, he ain't... "Ness"?

He ain't once asked me
what happened the other night.

He just keeps asking me
about you and Provitch.

Hey...

Hey, that's what he's
holding me here for, huh?

Huh?

Sure, he don't care about that
lousy breaking and entering.

He's gonna tag me
for the Provitch rap.

He can't. He'd need Kleeber.

Kleeber's dead.

Suppose he ain't?

Suppose it didn't
work out that way?

Now, look, you talked
protection, I better get it.

'Cause I'm telling you
something, and this is for sure.

If I'm going to fry, I
ain't gonna fry alone.

Look, shut!

Ness is running a bluff.

You just sit tight.

Guard?

You could be
right about Kleeber.

Makes sense.

Ness brings him
at the right moment,

opens up the Provitch case.

Whitey's as good
as in the chair.

Yeah. They pin a
rap on him, I'm next.

Don't think he won't squeal.

He's ready to crack
open right now.

Get him out.

Maybe I can't.

Now, look, you... you cost
too much for "maybe you can't."

I had a little talk
with the boys.

Anything happens to me,
they're going to pay you off.

Saw your light from the street.

Working late, huh?

Just cleaning up my desk
before the trial tomorrow.

You're working late, too.

I wouldn't call it work, exactly

Dropping in to
talk to an old friend.

Some people wouldn't
understand this.

We're on opposite sides,
sure, but only in court.

Right here, right this minute,
there's just the two of us.

Just one friend asking
another friend for a favor.

All right, you got the jury
in tears. What do you want?

Well, I can't go to Wade. I
don't know how to talk to him.

Figure I've got
a nice, soft ear.

What do you want, Mort?

A deal for Whitey Metz.

No deals.

Nothing big, you understand.

Nothing you can't
do. We'll cop a plea.

No deals.

All right, I'll... I'll
level with you, Eliot.

I'm being pressured.

I mean, I'm really
in a squeeze and...

I may end up right
behind the eight ball.

No deals.

"No deals."

No deals!

No feeling, no heart...
Like a talking machine!

A man does what he has to do.

And how would you know why?

What do you know?

What do you care?!

As long as you
chalk up another win,

you hang another
scalp on your belt!

What's the difference if
it happens to be mine?!

Who do you think
you are, Mr. Ness?!

Who are you to decide
who lives, who dies?!

Strike it from the record.

I'm sorry.

So am I.

The trial starts at 10:00.

Maybe we both better
get some sleep, huh?

Maybe.

See you in court.

Good night, friend.

Looks quiet enough.
What do you think?

Why ask me? It's your idea.

You're the one that keeps
saying Kleeber's alive.

Give Lee and Rico a hand.

Ness!

You... you wouldn't have
any candy on you, would you?

Some days you just
don't have any luck at all.

Whitey Metz turned
state's evidence

and was sentenced
to life imprisonment.

On his testimony,

the entire Coombs
Organization was apprehended.

On March 21, 1933,

Morton Halas was buried
quietly, without fanfare.

There was only one
mourner at the grave:

Eliot Ness.

The Untouchables.