Treme (2010–2013): Season 3, Episode 10 - Tipitina - full transcript

Season Three Finale. Davis McAlary and Cheeky Blakk go 'full ghetto' on McAlary's goodbye to the musician's life. Tim Feeny reveals himself and his intentions to Desautel when he finds out that she's throwing an unauthorized benefit for Gigi's. Delmond Lambreaux parts ways with the powers that be. Toni Bernette sees hope that Joey Abreu's killer may be prosecuted.

Been two weeks.

Thought y'all would never show.

Fire department said
it started in the front.

Yeah, I'd agree with that.

Pour patterns on the floor
look like gasoline.

I know who did it.

I can't prove it, but I do.

You give them a name?

I don't have a name, just a face.

Well, unless someone turns
him in or comes forward...

Yeah, that ain't gonna happen.



I made lists-- inventory,
equipment and such.

When was the last time you had
an inspection from the city?

Honestly?
Don't remember.

Well, before Katrina,
I guess. I'm not sure.

That's the upstairs, miss Ladee.

You want me to do down here now?

Yes, please, John.
Thank you, baby.

Last inspection--
were you up to code?

Oh, no idea.

- You cooked in here?
- Red beans and rice.

Look, a lot of what we had
was grandfathered in.

Besides, what difference does it make?

You can't blame this on faulty wiring

or I left a hot plate on.



Miss Williams, we'll be in touch.

Oh, I'ma call you,
Mr. Cooper.

Yeah, like I said, a few weeks.

Oh, shit.

You can't say I had noise complaints

the past couple of weeks.

And no music tonight,

Mr. hand-in-my-
motherfucking-pocket.

- What happened?
- The fuck it looks like, motherfucker?

You're a day late and
a dollar short, boo-boo.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
You had some bad luck,

so I don't get paid?

- Huh-uh. Huh-uh.
- Whoa, whoa, calm down.

- Get the fuck out of my bar, motherfucker.
- Whoa, all right, all right.

- Get the fuck out of my bar.
- Whoa, all right, all right, all right.

Crazy bitch.

* Hanging in the treme *

* watching people sashay *

* past my steps *

* by my porch *

* in front of my door *

* church bells are ringing *

* choirs are singing *

* while the preachers groan *

* and the sisters moan
in a blessed tone *

* mm-hmm, yeah *

* down in the treme,
just me and my baby *

* we're all going crazy *

* while jamming and having fun *

* trumpet bells ringing *

* bass drum is swinging *

* as the trombone groans *

* and the big horn moans
and there's a saxophone *

* down in the treme *

* it's me and my baby *

* we're all going crazy *

* while jamming and having fun *

* down in the treme *

* it's me and my baby *

* we're all going crazy *

- * while jamming and having fun. *
- Whoo!

Oh, man.

Homicide, Johnson.

You're a piece of shit.

- Me?
- Mm, and a coward.

And I'll be on the back lot
without my rank,

in case you find balls
enough to argue the point.

You'll still get the reward
if the information leads...

The fuck...? He's the one
snitching to the feds,

and I'm the fucking bad guy?

Hey. What--
what happened?

With my compliments.

Oh, Jesus.

Lieutenant, I think
maybe we should--

fuck you.

You know, folks,
if it's one thing positive

we can take away from this storm,

or rather I should say,
the federal flood,

is that it taught us that the
musical culture of New Orleans

is our greatest asset,
maybe our only asset.

When all else fails--
and all else did fail--

we can rely on the past musical
conspiracy that is New Orleans

to step the hell up.
And by that I mean

we pulled together
and got it done, right?

All for one, one for all, right?

Right?

* Ha-ha,
this is dedicated *

* to all the motherfuckers
that said I couldn't make it *

* so I start my tale
with the band renowned *

- * brassy knoll by name, eight men, no clowns *
- * Ha *

* bringing you hot music
that ain't no junk *

* it was the best thing going
since the uncut funk *

* so I put in my money
and I put in my time *

- * and I poured out my soul in the rhythm and rhyme *
- * Yeah *

* and just when the booking
and the crowds start flowing *

* them usurping bastards started
acting like they knowin' *

* telling me to back off,
and I gotta front less *

* and Calliope can flow,
but man, you gotta confess *

* that he ain't got
the politics that I can bring *

- * and the tats are a bit much, and he sure can't sing *
- * What? *

* they get to soon thinking
I ain't fit for command *

* the artistic direction
of my very own band *

* so I find it untenable,
this position *

* you out there runnin'
your sedition commission *

* thinking you can tell me
what the band's about *

* but, you know, fuck that
dumb shit, man, I'm out *

- * and fuck... *
- * I ain't worried about *

- * none of you snitches *
- * ...You bitches *

- * I'm so sick of your shit *
- * I'm so sick of your what? *

- What are you talking about?
- No, stop. Whoa, whoa.

- * Y'all can't fire me... *
- Whoa. Whoa.

Fu-- Dude, really?
You gotta do that now?

Davis, this is historic.

Cheeky, darling, what the fuck was that?

What you mean?

I'm looking for nasty on this.

Davis, if I put any other
bad word in there,

it's not gonna be played on the radio.

They're gonna have to bleep
the motherfucking song.

This isn't going to be
on the radio ever.

This is my manifesto, my goodbye.

Fuck the radio, fuck the music industry.

This is gonna say exactly
what I want it to say.

No half-ghetto bullshit,
please.

Oh, you want full ghetto?

- Yeah.
- Ghetto it is.

Toot!

All right, great.
Full ghetto, from the top.

Uh, you know.

You know, folks,
if it's one thing positive

we can take away from this storm,

or rather I should say,
the federal flood...

Is that enough from the fiddle?

- We're good.
- All right, see y'all tonight.

You look like you just swallowed
a canary or something.

Well, now you're not just touring.

You're touring to support a record.

Oh my God.

I don't believe it.

Believe it. On the strength
of that little beauty,

I got dates lined up
for the next four months.

And I'm gonna throw y'all a
little record release party too.

In New Orleans?

Sweet Jesus, no.
Here in New York.

This ain't about "offbeat," darling.

It's about "Rolling Stone"
and the "New York Times."

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Hey, y'all, Linzay,
anybody want a record?

- What?
- Solid gold, baby.

T.B.P.

* First you say I could,
now you say I can't *

* then you say I should,
and now you say I shan't *

* and yes, I admit,
I'm no Robert-fucking-plant *

* but you're supposed to support
me, you were my favorite aunt *

* so I'm out of the business,
y'all can have your fun *

* find another whipping boy,
'cause D.J. Davis *

- * he *
* ain't *

* the one *

* and motherfuck *

- * fuck all you bitches *
- * All you cocksucking *

* bitches *

* I'm so sick of your shit *

* what?
You tell them, Davis *

* and y'all can't fire me *

* you know what,
bitch? *

* I quit *

* I quit, I don't give a shit *

* I don't give a damn
who you hire, work with *

* I quit *

* now I don't give a shit *

* I don't give a damn
who you hire, work with *

* I quit... *

* ...made his nest
up in the autumn branches *

* built from nothing
but high hopes and thin air *

* he collected up some baby-blasted
mothers and took their chances *

* and for a while they lived
quite happily up there *

* he came from New York City, man,
but he couldn't take the pace *

* he thought it was like
a dog-eat-dog world... *

* we got jazz bands and brass bands *

* funk bands and trad bands *

* whatever your heart
desires, yeah, yeah *

* if you can take that southern heat *

* come feel that New Orleans beat *

* you can meet me
on Frenchmen Street... *

Davis.

Hey.

Can I get, uh,

- a shot of beam and then a bud?
- Sure.

- And then another shot and another bud.
- Okay.

Hey.

Oh, you're lining them up, eh, Davis?

Yes.
You gigging tonight?

Down by Ray's.
Got one more set.

Here you go.

What you got there?

This?

This is my last will and testament,

my goodbye to the music business,

clocking in at five
minutes and 42 seconds.

It's the hidden bonus track at
the end of our new R&B sampler,

a happy little treat for
whoever wants to find it.

And then I'm done.

I got a gig Saturday night.

I need a piano player. Richard took
ill with the flu or something.

- What's the gig?
- A private party down at Metairie.

Big bucks too.

I don't know, Kermit.
Like the song says,

I'm out. Fuck it.

$1500 a man.

In the Metairie?

Room service or down to the lounge?

Um, it's your call.

You ain't got no complaints, huh?

- Huh?
- About my route.

About how I should have took Broad
instead of Claiborne and vice versa.

No, there's no problem. The way
you come-- that was correct.

- That's the way I would have done.
- This is a 20.

- I know.
- It's more than the meter.

I know. It's a 20.
Keep the change.

What?

Not that I know what I'm doing.

You really should go over to university

and have this checked out, huh?

This might be broken.

It's just swollen.

Stupid.

And what did you prove, huh?

I wasn't trying to prove anything.

I just wanted to hit him.

Oh, what? You never
feel that way, ever?

You can finish that.

Huh? When the rest of the world
just doesn't give a fuck,

what is it that actually helps?

Lasting.

You gotta outlast the bastards.

You can't outlast them.
The game is rigged.

No, Terry, there are rules.

Rules, huh?
Oh, yeah.

You've been playing by the
rules for a long time.

- Haven't you?
- Mm-hmm.

How is that working out for you?

A young man comes to town, gets
hold of some public records,

talks to people, makes
some calls, and now look.

They're gonna have to deal with it.
Now it's a case.

You think so?

Oh, yeah.
Now the whole world knows

about that burned body on the levee.

That is a national magazine, Terry.

Yeah? And how many
people read it?

It's on the Internet too,

- "Propublica."
- Uh-huh.

N.O.P.D. is gonna have
to investigate.

- N.O.P.D.?
- Mm-hmm.

I don't know how you've been doing

what you've been doing for so long

and you are still so naive.

Them or the feds,
your good friend Collington.

There's too much out there for them
to keep looking the other way.

I signed up Shamarr Allen
and Paul Sanchez last night.

Antoine, I don't--
I don't know what to say.

A lot of goodwill for Gigi's out
there in the community, Ladonna.

I might even put the soul
apostles back together

if I could wrangle those
contrarian motherfuckers.

All my regulars, huh?

Not just.
Delmond and me--

- We're working on some real heavyweights.
- Wow.

Thing is, it's running
smack into Jazz Fest,

so there's questions of
everybody's schedules and shit.

Right now I'm thinking

the Monday before.
We still need a venue.

Is his daddy gonna be there?

- Big chief?
- Mm-hmm.

Not onstage.

He don't truck with putting the suit
on unless it's a proper holiday.

He don't do no Jazz Fest parades.

He's an old-time
injun.

- Yes, he is.
- Yeah.

- What size do you wear?
- 7 1/4.

Yeah, daddy, you're the prettiest.

Come on now, we're gonna be late.

A five-minute walk.

I don't know what to choose

between these two fedoras.

Buy 'em both.

Now you would say that.

Oh, lord.

Dear God, no.
Jazz brunch?

12% food cost.
28 bucks for two eggs,

a tablespoon of hollandaise,
and a mimosa.

Musicians--
don't they cost?

Dying for a Sunday gig. They'll
play for tips practically.

Tim, we're still working out the kinks.

I don't want to do that to the crew.

They work Saturday night,
getting their asses kicked

so they can wake up Sunday and cook eggs?

So hire a brunch crew. I'll
send over some Hondurans.

They love eggs.
Look, it'll subsidize

all the caviar and truffle you
want to put on the dinner menu

and it'll still cover
our food cost by a mile.

I thought you didn't care about food
cost, not for, what was it, a year?

I don't, but chef,
it's free money--

for nothing.
Think about it, okay?

I'll think about it a year from now.

Which reminds me, I am taking

the crawfish ravioli off the menu.

- It's your signature dish.
- Fuck it is.

I didn't open this place to
be the old spaghetti factory.

Not only is it killing
us in the kitchen,

we're coming to the end
of the season anyway.

It's our most popular item.
I can get it for you frozen.

No.

No fucking frozen crawfish ever.

It is a seasonal special.

People will look forward
to it all year long.

"Hey, when is that crawfish
ravioli coming back?"

"Well, it's coming back
crawfish season."

"Well, okay."
Jesus.

Every Saturday?

Every other, maybe.

You know, strictly voluntary,

a small group, just the ones that care.

You think they're ready for it?

I've been thinking about Danny
barker and the Fairview,

the way it gets passed down--
the tradition, I mean.

I was only 10 or so.

Leroy Jones was already
fronting that band.

He was 15.

Got Wynton, Branford,

Tuba Fats,
Shannon Powell--

all of them come up through Fairview,

same age as I was,

same age as these kids.

You know, I took Robert
to hear Mr. Ferbos.

- I know he enjoyed it.
- Yeah.

Listening to him made me realize

I still got a lot to learn
about the tradition.

I've been dipping my toe
in this modern stuff,

- trying to stretch a little.
- How's that going?

I'm digging it, but, man,
I don't kid myself.

I believe I'm about as good
as I'm ever gonna get.

So what if I'm the seventh
best 'bone in New Orleans?

Makes me about tops
anywhere else, right?

See, but the thing is, what if we got us

a little Leroy Jones

or Tuba Fats just waiting to happen,

and all they need is a little extra?

The idea would be
to program Congo Square too,

treat it just like one of the
stages inside the auditorium.

And part of the renovation of the
auditorium is the gallery we talked about,

the one dedicated to the
Mardi grad Indian culture.

Y'all plan to check out
what Sylvester's doing

over there at the Backstreet, hmm?

It's across the park, right there.

Or Ron Lewis, down in the lower nine?

The house of dance and feathers?

Ahem--

maybe I'll just leave my suits to them,

since they're already up and running.

Well, this venue would reach

a much wider audience
for what you do, chief.

What about taking this fence down?

We ran estimates.
It's expensive.

And the city has some concerns.

- Concerns?
- About public safety.

About black kids from the
neighborhood using the park,

which is right on their front steps.

That's the point. It keeps them out.
That's why it has to come down.

Just have to be patient,
let the process work.

Shall we?

This is virtually
an untapped resource.

We have the cultural history
of Congo Square...

Surprised to see you here, bro.

Well, it took
me close to a year,

but I'm back in the mayor's good graces.

Did him a solid on the library board.

Irvin, if they got
you, what they need with me?

Man, I'm just here to help.

Listen, Delmond, this stage of the game,

don't wear yourself out
on the smaller details.

What you talking about, the fence?

First thing to do is to get
the project up and funded.

We can come back for the
stuff that matters later.

Tell that to your old man too.

Looks like he's getting down to
his last nerve with these people.

Hi.

Here it is.

Oh.

Thank you and your family, miss Glover.

Where the fuck is Mike Corrigan?

Je ne sais pas.

Don't bother.
Don't even fucking bother.

In fact, clear out your fucking locker.
Get the fuck out.

I'm sorry, chef.
The streetcar was late.

Sorry, shit. It's the
second time in a week.

You're done now.

Paul, you move over to his station.
I'll take yours.

Yes, chef.

I missed staff meal.
Is there anything to eat?

You can get the fuck out too.

You can get your cute
little clueless ass

out of my kitchen now.

News leader, channel 4...

We need to eat if we're going to
get to the candlelight in time.

- Hot sauce-- I forgot.
- Not now. It's coming on.

Well, it was a
program that was designed

to help the city's poor
and elderly people

and touted by Mayor Ray Nagin

as a way to clean up
storm-damaged property.

But who actually benefited
from the service

and why can't even a top city official

completely answer
new questions about it?

A part of that is you?

A tad. Most of that's everything
Karen and Pam and them

been working on for more than a year.

Thieving motherfuckers.

Hell, yeah.
But you know what?

This time they were fucking
with the wrong people.

They don't know it, but that's
who we were this time--

the wrong fucking people.

...Affordable home
ownership, a nonprofit...

* I can't wheel, I can't deal *

* since you walked out on me, yeah *

* holy cow *

* what you doing,
child, child? *

* holy cow,
what you doing, child? *

* what you doing,
what you doing, child? *

* holy smoke, well, it ain't no joke *

* no joke,
hey, hey, hey. *

Take five, guys.

We're gonna gather round
now and do the motzi.

Oh, do what you wanna.
It's all good.

Dude went all out for his kid, huh?

What is it? A bar--
bar something or other.

Bar mitzvah.

Today he becomes a man.

Are you sure you won't join us?

No, I'm meeting Brandi. We're
gonna catch some music,

grab a bite to eat.

Take me with you.

Be nice.

How did your jazz center meeting go?

- Seems to be moving forward.
- Humph.

- You don't think so?
- I know one thing--

that fence around Armstrong Park

ain't never gonna come down.

- You don't know that.
- Let me ask you something.

Did you know that Mr. Irvin
Mayfield was gonna be there?

He's a resource. He was part of
the previous jazz center project.

Probably be part of the next one too.

He knows how the city works.

Exactly-- a lot of
talk in the press,

a lot of money changing hands,

few people get rich,
but nothing gets done.

I'll see y'all later.

Bye, Del. Say hi to Brandi.

Bye, pop.

* I'm so sick and tired *

* of fooling around
with you. *

Ladies and gentlemen,
give it up one time

for D.J. Davis McAlary

on piano and vocals.

And the legend
is true--

he and I was in our first band together.

Guys, would it be all right

if my son, being the man of the hour,

played a little piano with you?

Oh, no problem.

It's all you, man.

- What you got, young'un?
- "Tipitina."

Key of?

- Oh, one flat. En pointe.
- All right, kick it.

You're gonna miss this.

New Orleans, baby.

* Tipitina *

* tra la la *

* whoa-oh *

* la la la *

* tipitina, oola malla walla dalla *

* tra ma tra la la... *

Christ.

It's all there, even the autopsy.

I'm supposed to believe you
had nothing to do with this,

you never talked to the reporter?

Fact is, I didn't even know his name.

Lieutenant, I'm giving
you a direct order--

in the event you receive
any outside inquiries

regarding the death
of Mr. Henry Glover,

you are to refer those to
deputy superintendent DeFillo.

All right, well, can I ask,

is anyone planning on
actually investigating

the death of a man who was wounded

and driven to a police checkpoint

and then found burned in a car

on the levee behind the fourth district?

DeFillo's in charge of the
investigation as well.

Is a detective assigned?

Anybody from Homicide?

- Sergeant Dugue.
- God damn it, chief.

Transfer me right now.
Send me back to the eighth.

You got 25.
Put in your papers. Quit.

Consider yourself warned.

Warned?

Silby gives me the call right
now-- I can take your pension

for what you did to him in the back lot.

- And why don't you?
- 'Cause Silby ain't a snitch.

Do you swear to tell
the truth, the whole truth,

and nothing but the
truth, so help you God?

- Mm-hmm.
- Be seated.

Mrs. batiste-Williams,

talking about this heinous
event will not be easy.

If you feel you need to take a break,

we can ask the court to allow that.

Let's establish a few basic facts.

Are you the owner and sole...

Hey, hey.

Mr. McAlary,
what's shaking, bro?

Oh, I gotta start you off
with four boxes, bro.

"Old cats who ain't
been paid."

It's our new R&B sampler.

It's local legends doing new
material on the storm--

- Irma, Al Johnson, Robert Parker.
- Oh, cool.

And if we sell a bunch of
these, the old guys get paid--

they'll get a check. The label
isn't taking its piece, so...

That's beautiful, man.

Are you playing on this anywhere?

Uh, yeah, one track,
"I Quit."

Richard!

- Richard, hey.
- Hey, what's up?

- Are you feeling better, man?
- Yeah, man, I feel great.

'Cause Kermit said
that you caught the flu

and couldn't make that gig in Metairie.

No, man, Kermit told me
to stand down on that gig

because he needed to throw
it to somebody else.

Huh.

'Afternoon.

There was a summary dismissal the
other night from the kitchen, I hear.

He was late, second time in a week.

He filed a complaint
with H.R.

More to the point,

we received a complaint
from someone on the floor

that you threatened her,
used inappropriate language.

I managed to calm the situation.

I bet.

What's that supposed to mean?

Everybody knows, Tim.
And fuck her.

Tell her to keep her prissy
little ass out of my kitchen.

I think you're losing a
little bit of perspective.

Fuck perspective.

Your obnoxious partners and
all their deadbeat friends

are eating up half this
dining room every night.

Your little cupcake is
overbooking the other half.

She's jamming 20-30 covers
down our throats at a time.

And you want to start telling me who
can and can't be in my kitchen?

There's something else
we need to talk about.

Okay, that's my bad. I should
have discussed it with you.

It's for somebody I know. It's a sister
of someone who used to work for me.

- Gigi.
- Yeah, that's the name of her place.

She had a fire.
It's our dark night anyway.

We're not doing it.

It won't cost us anything.

I'll run it. You'll never
even know it happened.

We're not doing it because we can't.

Our arrangement with the building
and the residences upstairs

prohibits live music
after 10:00 P.M.

And amplified music anytime.

You want to hire a piano player

and do a cocktail hour, pass a
hat for your friend's sister--

knock yourself out.

Once we get up and running,
I was thinking along the lines

of Fairview marching band,
you know--

a place for the kids
to learn the tradition.

Sounds great, Antoine.

Really need something for the
kids who ain't got much else.

Like Cherise, you know?

Jennifer too--

can't do nothing about her not reading,

nothing at all.
But at least with this,

she got a chance--

- Where are you going?
- Down to Canal.

Gonna jump all over that ward
thing they're doing for Nagin.

"Excellence in recovery," my ass.

Oh, yeah.

- Slap him one for me.
- Mm-hmm.

And don't you get arrested this time.

Shit.

So what did the police tell you?

They told me nothing.

Said Glover was never ruled a homicide

and that I should talk
to the coroner about it.

Which I did...

Many months ago.

You know they still ain't
never paid me for my car?

I'm sorry, bro. I can't
help you with that.

Maybe you can write
a follow-up on that.

Maybe.

No more Nagin, no more.

No more Nagin, no more.

No more Nagin, no more.

No more Nagin, no more.

No more Nagin, no more.

Where's the mayor? That's who
I want to be yelling at.

- He might already be inside.
- I hope not.

Why have you chosen this
time to honor mayor Nagin?

Mr. Mayfield, Mr. Mayfield.

Mr. Mayfield, is it true...

Do you even see any of the reports?

Does any of it come through Homicide?

No reports.

DeFillo doesn't require
anything to be written down.

Fucking hell.

What about you?

- Me?
- Mm-hmm.

They told me to quit.

Will you?

I might.

I'm getting eaten alive out here.

- Want to go inside?
- Oh, no. No, no, no.

- No?
- You don't-- no.

No, the big mosquitoes--
they're all

up in the corners of the
trailer, guarding their eggs.

It's much safer out here, trust me.

Come on.

- Do I need anything?
- A toothbrush?

Now I was hoping you could hook
me up with your Uncle Ronald,

- give me the inside tour.
- I got you, man. No problem.

My daddy was trying to tell these jazz
center cats and Irvin to check it out.

- Irvin Mayfield?
- Yeah.

There's your man right now.

He don't look too happy.

Hey, Janette.

Oh, shit, that's too bad.

Oh, no, no, no. That's fine. That's fine.
We'll find something.

Hi, Sofia.

Hey, you.

How's Florida?

Sucks.

Can't wait to see the look on his face.

- You sure he's gonna talk about Noah?
- If he doesn't, we will.

What do you think he'll
say about our story?

That it's entirely accurate

and that the city should be
ashamed of what's happened.

Seriously?

Antoine, you know how
to work the VCR, right?

Yeah, you do.

I want you to get it
on W.W.L. right now.

Keys to c-120?

We need to shop the car.

It rides fine. I need it to
go over to the courthouse.

Take 132.

According to the log,
your unit needs maintenance.

How do you spell that?

If you don't know, I don't.

I tell you what-- drag
the body down to Decatur Street

and call me back.

I'm being as serious as you are.

You got a hit, Davis.

People have been coming in all day
asking for the "I Quit" song,

buying up the whole
damn C.D. just to get it.

- Seriously?
- Yeah.

- What the fuck?
- Dude, you're on YouTube. Check it out.

You've gone viral, Davis.

I always knew you would.

* Fuck all you
bitches... *

Anyway, we only have
a couple of copies left.

- Okay? So get on it.
- Uh-huh.

* All you bitches... *

* I'm so sick
of your shit... *

I need a dozen more boxes
as quick as you can.

- Okay.
- * Y'all can't fire me *

- Okay?
- Okay.

Great.
Oh, by the way,

I thought you might like
one of the first copies.

- If you don't have it already.
- Yeah, thanks.

* it's a label, not a toy,
you don't get to play... *

You motherfuckers.

How is that report
helping this recovery?

It is not.

And it's hurting this city.
And you need to stop it.

Do not fuck with
my girl, Ray-Ray.

Ha-ha, do not
fuck with her.

...Have any work
done by the city agency.

Nagin says the city did not
misspend any federal funds

and that Noah home remediation
program was legitimate.

Lee Zurik, eyewitness news...

- Yeah!
- Argh!

Jesus, fuck.

Yeah, Davis.

What the fuck have you all done?

- Give me that.
- The video was my idea.

Kermit told us you were down, man.

- What are friends for?
- Don't listen to Kermit.

Kermit doesn't know what
he's fuckin' talking about.

And, hey, you...

Bumping Richard from a gig just
to give me a little squeeze?

We've been putting links on
every website in New Orleans, bro.

Jan linked it for you
on "The Weekly Beat."

You must be selling a few records.

- Well, yeah.
- * Fuck all of you bitches *

* I'm so sick of your shit... *

- Kinda.
- At least you go down on top, motherfucker.

- Yes.
- So you're giving it up now, huh?

No, I'm not going anywhere.

The song says you quit, Davis.

Yeah, it does.

But fuck, how do I come back from that?

No, I'm serious.

Help me.

* I work eight hours a day *

* to buy you a pair of shoes *

* I come home and you're on the phone *

* sure gives me the blues *

* get a manicure, a pedicure *

* then you're off to the hair salon *

* and you want me to take you out *

* every time
the game is on... *

* I'm trying to do my thing *

* but still
it ain't enough... *

I'm sorry for the loss of your bar.

Really, I am.

* I'm about to lose my mind *

* I can't get no quiet time *

* I guess I'll keep myself company *

* what you want from me... *

Miss Ladonna.

Hi.

Hi. We've actually
never met officially,

but I've been to your bar.

Oh.

And you actually threw me out.

Really?

The mirrors...

And the soap dispenser.

I'm not gonna have to throw you
out of here tonight, am I?

Here? No.

No.

This is great.

I'm gonna go.

Thanks for coming.
Yeah.

* I'm trying
to do my thing... *

* but still it ain't enough *

* the more I give, the more you take *

* I'm running out of the funky stuff *

* I'm about to lose my mind *

* I can't get no quiet time *

* I guess I'll keep myself company *

* what you want from me? *

* more than I can give *

* what I need from you *

* get up
and let me live... *

I could have grabbed a cab.

I told you I'm picking him
up in 20 minutes or so,

provided his plane's not late.

Well, thanks.

So what's next?

I got a tip on something
involving jail deaths.

- Jail deaths?
- Mm-hmm.

Erie County, New York.

Is that, like, Buffalo?

Exactly.

You're gonna so miss New Orleans.

I'm sure.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

- I'll see you.
- I'll see you.

The Louis Armstrong
New Orleans International Airport

would like to remind the
public that smoking is allowed

only in designated areas
in the airport terminal.

Please observe
the no-smoking signs

in the no-smoking
locations.

Getting out before Jazz Fest, huh?

- Yeah.
- I wish I could stay,

but if I don't get back to
work, I won't have a job.

- So what brought you here?
- Work.

Hear any music?

Some metal.

I like metal...

And sea shanties.

Hey, give it up--
Bonerama.

Yes.

Thank you. Thank you very
much, ladies and gentlemen.

We would also like to thank our sponsor

miss Janette,

Desautel's on Frenchmen Street, y'all.

Yes, yes, indeed.

Man, I feel like trombone shorty up here

at the Jazz Fest, sitting
in with all these groups.

Uh-oh, speak of the devil.

Come on up, Troy.
There he is.

Shorty.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen,
and it's Big Sam.

What's up?

We got everybody in the house tonight.

Yes.

It's about time.
Trombones rule the world.

Yes, indeed.

Fuck the trumpet, you know?

Jockamo Fee Nane, motherfuckers.

All right, time for us
to raise this tin roof.

- Huh? Y'all ready?
- Yeah!

Y'all ready?
Give it up for Jill Sobule.

One, two, three...

* There's a dim light off the pier *

* and I've been watching it
for years... *

- Hey, baby.
- Oh, Freddie king.

Thank you for doing this.

* All I do is stare and wait *

* for her to come and take me *

* far away *

* well, ship comes in,
I'll be happening *

* after all these years I'll be happy *

* when my ship comes in,
you'll finally love me *

* then I can leave you
when my ship comes in *

* I'll be standing *

* on the rail *

* waving you goodbye *

* you'll be standing *

* on the beach *

* you'll be *

* wondering why... *

* going to a
place I've never been *

* with my eyes ever on the horizon *

* and if I ain't home before the dawn *

* go tell my love
not to wait up... *

* She didn't bat an eye *

* as I packed my bags to leave *

* I thought she was gonna cry *

* sit in her room and grieve *

* but, oh, that girl *

* fooled me this time *

* she acted like I was *

* the last thing
on her mind... *

Great party!

I have a plate for you.

* Baby, can I change
my mind? *

* baby, can I change
my mind? *

* can I change my mind? *

Give you a lift?

* towards the open door... *

I'm parked right out front.

* Knowing the whole time *

* I never really wanted to go *

* but, oh, that girl *

* gave me no sign *

* nothing to help me *

* help me to change my mind *

* I just want to *

* start all over again *

* baby, can I change
my mind? *

* baby, can I change *

* my mind? *

* one time *

* help me change
my mind... *

Trip okay?

Eh, nearly missed
my flight out of Logan--

Marathon.
Traffic was insane.

Ugh.

So when's the meeting?

Tomorrow, 11:00.

Tomorrow at 11:00.

Thank you, tom.

This has been a beautiful evening.

Let's give it up one more time
for miss Ladonna and Gigi's.

And Desautel's.

And I got one more
for you--

something very special,

New Orleans's own John Boutte.

Tom McDermott on piano.

* Let them talk *

* if they want to... *

Have you seen daddy?

No.

Huh?

I don't know where he went.

All right, I'll be right back.

That was great, man, just great.

Oh, thank you so much for doing this.

I appreciate it.

Oh, man, are you kidding me?

All right.

* and I need you so... *

I'm not sure if I can give this up.

I never asked you to.

* They don't know *

* what's between you and I *

* and I'm gonna keep on *

* loving you *

* yes, until the day *

* that I die... *

Thank you so, so much for doing this.

I'm so glad it worked out. Hope
we made a little money for them.

Yeah, I hope so.

- See you.
- See you, chef.

Saw you on the news the other night.

So the mayor's friend
wants to make up an award

and give it to him.
Who cares?

You gonna see Liguori any time soon?

Give him this for me, will you?

Who the fuck gives back
a consulting fee?

I mean, seriously.

* I know that true love *

* will make it stop... *

When you first called, I thought you
wanted to talk about Henry Glover.

You see that fellow's article?

I did.

I helped him where I could, in fact.

Hell of a job he did.
You see him,

you tell him he has a fan
in this field office.

I wanted to tell him myself, but
I didn't want to spook him.

And besides, I can't
afford to be quoted--

regulations and all.
Still...

That was Henry Glover.

Today this is Joseph Abreu.

Of course. Sir.

Yeah, hi. I came down
here more than a year ago

looking for answers.

Now that I know what happened,

the question is, what the hell
is anybody gonna do about it?

Well, I'm very interested in your son's death.
That's why I'm here.

Yeah, but you ain't doing nothing.

And if it wasn't for this lady,

I still wouldn't know
what happened to Joey.

And now she's got a witness.

I'll be very happy to meet with him.

This man lost his son.
And we now know

that the New Orleans Police
Department is responsible,

just like they're responsible
in the death of Henry Glover,

and those people shot
on the Danziger Bridge,

and Raymond Robair

and Danny Brumfield and
who knows how many more.

And the state is prosecuting
the Danziger case.

And making a mess of it.

From what I hear,
it's about to collapse.

It's almost three years since the storm

and no one has so much as opened
a real file on Joey Abreu.

So before I give you the name of a man

who saw a New Orleans police
officer murder his son,

I'd like you to look
Mr. Abreu in the eye

and promise him that you intend

to take this case
where the evidence leads...

I can only do what I can do.

...that regardless
of who wins

the next fucking election,

that you will bring a civil
rights case on this death

if the evidence warrants it.

If the evidence is there

and D.O.J.
won't move on it,

I'll quit.

I promise you that.

All rise.

Please be seated.

The court has been informed

over the course of the last
36 hours several times

that the jury finds itself deadlocked.

I have no choice

but to declare a mistrial.

Be seated.

I will have order in this court.

Mr. Jenkins,
control your clients.

Be seated.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

thank you for your service.

Jurors, you are dismissed.

Burned me out for nothing.

Burned me out for nothing.

How much did we make on the bar?

All the profits go to Gigi's. Is
that what you're so pissed about?

I couldn't give a shit.
Heard about your banner--

Desautel's on Frenchmen Street?

Well, I was unaware that I had to

ask your permission to use my own name.

Read your contract.
I own it.

Desautel's on Saint Charles,
on Frenchmen Street,

in Houston or San Antone
or Bumfuck, Texas--

it's mine.

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Don't think I won't walk.

Let me explain something to you, chef.

This restaurant goes on--
with you or without you.

That name on the door stays on the
door as long as I want it to,

whether you're here,
whether you're involved.

Who gets hurt when you walk
out that door? Not me.

We go on. What happens
to you, do you think?

Don't fuck with me, chef.

I wrote the book.

Fuck you.

Look, if something like they're talking
about gets built, that's major.

They've been talking about building
some jazz thing since I was a kid.

That ain't never gonna happen.

The storm changed some things,
chief, made some things possible.

There's money here to rebuild,
money that wasn't here before.

And everybody jumps.

Don't be so quick to run down the money.

Nothing happens without it.

I ain't running down the money,

but when people start thinking
that money is the fucking answer,

then you get a whole
'nother set of problems.

Money didn't make
New Orleans--

not the New Orleans
I know, anyway--

and money alone ain't gonna save it.

You too, Delmond?

I'm out, bro. Just ain't got
the stomach for it, I guess.

Not everyone does.
Chief.

Mr. Mayfield.

- Delmond.
- All right, bro.

Fight the good fight, bro.

You're right.

If it gets built,
if it doesn't get built,

they ain't never taking that fence down.

I'm glad you realized that.

- Proud of you.
- Yeah?

That was a lot of money
we just walked away from.

I never said you was
the brightest child.

* Brought the wind,
you brought the rain *

* Katrina, you caused me pain *

* Katrina, you caused me pain *

* I need water, I need bread *

* I need Katrina out of my bed *

* Katrina,
get out of my bed. *

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

Pick up, table 11.

Yeah.

...shot him dead.

I don't think you should give up...

Thank you.

What about redness?

Tenderness?

Okay, let me see your fingernails.

You look fine. Did the nausea
subside in two days or less?

Yes.

Did the medicine help
with the nausea at all?

Have you been
able to keep food down?

* A stopped clock's right twice a day *

* but here it isn't so *

* your clock's somewhere
on the neutral ground *

* between here and Thibodaux *

* gravity's got no business here *

* ran crying like a kid *

* he's crying up here *

* in the attic *

* where we done hid *

* because you've got to be crazy *

* yeah, you've got to be crazy *

* you've got to be crazy *

* to hang around *

* yeah, you've got to be crazy *

* you've got to be crazy *

* you've got to be crazy *

* to live in this town. *