our key to one of his homies.
And this time it'd be really fucking great
if you acted like you actually gave a shit!
All right, what have we got?
Talk to me, Karen.
Flanagan doesn't think
anybody has the story yet.
I'm the goddamn
District Attorney of Los Angeles.
If my car gets jacked,
it's gonna make news.
Fuck!
Why did these guys
have to be black?
I mean, why?
No matter how we spin this,
I'm either gonna lose the black vote
or I'm gonna lose the law-and-order vote.
You're worrying too much. You have
a lot of support in the black community.
All right. If we can't duck this thing,
we're gonna have to neutralize it.
What we need is a picture of me
pinning a medal on a black man.
Bruce?
The firefighter.
The one who saved the camp or something.
Northridge. What's his name?
He's Iraqi.
He's Iraqi?
Well, he looks black.
He's dark-skinned, sir, but he's Iraqi.
His name's Saddam Khahum.
Saddam?
His-His name's Saddam?
That's real good, Bruce. I'm gonna pin a medal
on an Iraqi named Saddam.
Give yourself a raise, will you?
It's been good
doing business with you.
- How soon can I have them?
- I'm picking them up right now.
Look, you're not listening to me.
This is an emergency.
I keep telling you he's in pain.
He can't sleep.
Mr. Ryan, your father has been to the clinic
three times in the last month.
He is being treated for a urinary tract infection.
That is by no means an emergency.
If you have any more questions
about your HMO plan, why don't you
make an appointment to come in between
10:00 and 4:00, Monday through Friday.
What does my father do
about sleeping tonight?
I don't know.
I'm not a doctor.
- I wanna talk to your supervisor.
- I am my supervisor!
- What is your name?
- Shaniqua Johnson.
Shaniqua.
Big fucking surprise that is.
Bronson Avenue, Westwood.
Vehicle is described as a black
late-model Lincoln Navigator.
California plate
4 Peter Charles Ida 315.
Suspects are two black males,
approximately 20 years of age.
That's not it.
That's not the vehicle, John.
The plates don't match.
The driver's gotta be 40. Nobody jacks a car
and takes it to Studio City.
They were doin' something.
Enthusiastic.
Keep your hands
where I can see 'em, please.
I'm gonna need to see
your driver's license and registration.
No problem.
I'm gonna have to reach inside the glove
compartment to get the registration.
- Is that okay?
- Nice and slow, please.
Okay.
How are you tonight, Officer?
Excellent.
Here you go.
Stay inside the vehicle, please.
Let's do it again right now.
Step outta the car, please, sir.
Wait a minute, Officer.
I haven't been drinking or anything.
Then we shouldn't have a problem.
He doesn't drink.
He's a Buddhist, for Christ's sake.
No, it's okay.
It's fine.
Step onto the sidewalk, sir.
That's good. Right there.
Look at me.
I want you to stand
on your right foot.
Touch your nose
with the index finger of your left hand.
I told you he doesn't drink.
Ma'am, I'm only gonna tell you
one time to stay in the vehicle.
- Ma'am?
- Honey, honey, I'm okay. I got this.
Don't you "ma'am" me. Who the hell
do you think you're talking to?
Look, Officer, my wife
has had a couple of drinks...
Both of you, turn around. Put your hands on
top of your head and interlock your fingers.
Wait. We're only a block away from our house.
Hands on your head.
Interlock your fingers.
- Hands on your head. Interlock your fingers.
- I'm a television director.
Me and my wife were just coming home
from an awards show.
Take your hands off him.
He's done nothing wrong.
Put your hands on top
of your head, ma'am.
- Do what he says.
- Fuck you!
Put your hands...
And you keep
your filthy fucking hands off me!
You motherfucking pig!
- Just stop talking!
- That's quite a mouth you have.
Of course you know that.
Fuck you! That's what
this is all about, isn't it?
You thought you saw a white