- cr*cker coming up on you.
Don't look 5-0.
- Yo, what up with this white boy?
- Hey.
What's up?
You guys are Whip Street 7's, right?
- Who the hell you think you are, bitch?
Coming around here talking my dub, you dub-less.
- What you know about Whip Street?
- I know your territory spreads 12 blocks west and 8 blocks south.
And I know that 'cause I made it possible.
- Let me bother this sh*t-talking white boy.
- I'm not talking sh*t.
I was inside with Alfredo Mengiora.
I was his money guy.
He gave me protection.
- Bullshit.
- You want to k*ll me?
Do it.
But when Alfredo finds out you k*lled his numbers man, you're as good as dead.
- Okay. Let's find out.
Get up there.
Go. - Home.
- Move. Two seconds.
THE FUGITIVE
FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO
- To my little brother.
You might be the youngest in Goldman Sachs history, but you still got the smallest pecker in the Financial District.
- There it is!
- Hope that doesn't run in the family.
That would be a shame.
- What's your name?
- Denise.
- I'm gonna go to the little ladies' room, but don't you run off.
- I won't.
- All right, speaking of women in our lives,
I've got two of them waiting for me at home.
- No, no, no! I got to close this deal.
- No. Sunrise, I'm gonna have a 6-year-old bouncing on top of me wanting to play.
- Oh, give me 30 minutes.
- 20, okay?
I'm gonna go sleep in my car, and then, when you're ready, we're gonna call an Uber because you ain't closing this.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey, hold on, hold on.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
I want to... I want to tell you something.
Mom and Dad would be so proud.
Gonna have people reporting to you, so enjoy it, Mikey.
You earned it.
- Hey. I'm standing on Mom and Dad's shoulders and yours. - That's bullshit.
- You could have gone to college.
You could have done what I do, but you were the oldest.
You let me.
- I barely got out of high school.
So I'll say it again...
You earned it.
Mom and Dad are looking down with Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Jack and Aunt Dot, all smiling like crazy.
Come here.
I love you.
- I love you, too. All right?
Now I'm gonna go nap while you, uh, wrap it up with Debbie.
- Delia.
- Right.
- Hey, partner.
- What's the deal-ya, Delia?
- Denise.
- What did I say?
- It doesn't matter.
Can... Do you mind if I... - Sure.
- Hey.
Hey, Mrs. Pollack is here.
Do you feel up to having a talk?
- How are you feeling?
- My brother's dead.
That woman's dead.
I feel like I've been beaten with a bat and I'm handcuffed to a bed.
- The DA's going for criminally negligent homicide.
I've done everything that I can, but they're asking for max four years per count.
But I wasn't driving.
I was asleep in the passenger's seat.
- The only two people who can testify to that d*ed in the accident.
And the state just gave me a report from an accident reconstruction.
It says, based on how your body was thrown from the car, you were the one behind the wheel.
- I fell asleep in my car.
My brother must have taken my keys.
- Does it matter? It matters what a jury thinks is true.
And with the press latching on to the "rich drunk better not get away with it" angle, prosecutor's insisting you do real time.
- We're not rich.
I mean, Mike just got his promotion.
Now he's been fired.
We have hospital bills, legal bills.
We're just about broke.
- Oh, sh*t. White Mike. Is that you?
- You really know this bitch?
- Me and Mike go back.
I kept his ass safe up in Kern.
Sit down.
Taught me how to launder my cash.
Body shop, nail salons, Bodegas.
White Mike's smarter than sh*t.
Makes me wonder what it is you're doing here.
Can't have the cops connecting you with my business.
But here you are, blowing up my spot.
- Yeah.
Wouldn't be here if it wasn't important.
- I know why you're here.
Been watching you all day on TV.
Boys, you are in the presence of the Subway Bomber.
Michelangelo Ferro, most wanted man in America.
- Yo. It is the dude, man.
- You know I didn't do it.
- Spend years locked up with a man, you learn his nature.
So no, I don't think you did sh*t.
But it's no mind
'cause you got every pig in the city looking for you.
And here you came.
- I need a g*n.
- Why?
- I need it because I've been set up and I'm going after who did it.
You should give it to me because I'm sure the cops were deep in my computer.
When I got out, I created records of everything I did for you, to the penny in case the authorities ever found out.
I figured I could trade it and roll on you.
By exonerating myself, I get my computer back before they find out what those financial statements mean.
I don't walk out of here alive, cops r*fle through my sh*t until they stumble across something that implicates you.
So, old friend, best way for you to stay safe is for your boy over here to wipe that smirk off his cankero 'stache menudo face and give me his g*dd*mn g*n.
- You ain't getting my g*n.
- Give him your g*n.
- What?
- Give him the g*n!
Mikey... do yourself a favor and clean up this situation... and take that computer... and put it in the river.
'Cause if you don't like the cops after you... you're gonna hate it when I am.
I was never here.
I never saw this fool.
- Where is everybody?
- Went to go tell the homies what's up.
Yo, sit down for a second, Z.
You been on the run all day.
Go in there and get you something to eat.
- I'm good, thanks.
- Hold up, man.
Tell me the truth.
Did you really do that b*mb?
- No.
Why do you want me to stay so bad?
- Reward, man.
A million bucks is a million bucks.
- You called the cops.
- You ain't got the balls to pull that trigger
'cause if you do, my homies there...
- Don't you say anything.
This watch is yours.
Tell them I went down Antwerp.
- Where'd he go?
- White boy went down Antwerp.
- You sure?
- Yes.
- Let's go, let's go.