07x10 - g*ns Don't Die

[bunniefuu]

Sometimes it's hard to
believe that something so little

can mean the end
of a person's life.

Please, stop!

There've been two people on
my table this week who wouldn't

have been there if it
hadn't been for this one g*n.

It's a Saturday Night Special.

Carl, it's like it's
a jinx. It's a k*ller!

I want that g*n, Monahan.

Anybody that sh**t a cop... That's
someone who will sh**t anybody.

We have to stop supplying the
criminals with these weapons!

A .22 caliber handgun.

A k*ller that's still out there.

Ka-pow.

Gentlemen, you
are about to enter

the most fascinating
sphere of police work,

the world of forensic medicine.

Marco? Marco!
Where you been, man?

I'm goin' crazy.

So I'm five minutes late.

Five minutes seemed
like an hour to me.

Hey... You're pretty shaky.

I'm thin, man.

I need a fix!

- You got the money?
- No.

- He didn't have it.
- Didn't have it? Come on!

I got to get a fix!

Listen, okay?

I got somethin' better.

Marco, where'd you get that?

I told you.

Joey didn't have the
dough he owed me

so he gave me this.

Now we have all
the money we want.

I can't get used to it, man.

What's to get used to?

We don't even have to sh**t it.

It's to convince people,
you know what I mean?

My mom wouldn't even
let me play with g*ns

when I was a kid,
Marco. I can't...

Okay, swell.

- So go on home.
- No.

- No.
- Things change, man.

Then stop bein' a jerk, okay?

Here.

Get the feel of it.

Look, there's nobody
else around, man.

- Go for it.
- I can't do it.

Come on! Go for it.

Hold it.

What is this, young man?

Just give me your wallet.

This is ridiculous.
Get out of my way.

No, please. I have a g*n.

I won't be victimized in
my own neighborhood.

I'll sh**t! Marco?

- Get out of my way!
- No, please!

Don't do it!

Oh, no...

Oh, no...

Come on, let's get out of here!

- Where's the g*n?
- Here.

- Get rid of it.
- What?

Get rid of it!

- Good morning, Pete.
- Good morning, Dr. Quincy.

You're looking
cheerful this morning.

I feel good. That's because
the lungs are working,

and the heart is pumping...

Sounds like you got
your morning jog in.

I'm up to three miles now.

- Good for you.
- I've never felt
better in my life.

My stamina is up, I'm not
tired at the end of a day...

- It really is terrific.
- See you later.

I should've done
this a long time ago.

Maybe you'll get me started.

That's a good idea.
You want to meet

me tomorrow morning at
6:00? We'll run together.

That's the hard part.

I'll call you at 5:30
in the morning.

Let me think about
it. I'll let you know.

You...

You're the one who
ought to get out and run!

When was the last time you
did anything more strenuous

than walk to the doughnut stand?

Listen, I got a policy.

Every time I get
the urge to exercise,

I lie down until it passes.

Why don't you give
your body a break?

I'll call you tomorrow
morning at 5:30.

5:30? Are you crazy?

Getting up that early would
throw my body into shock.

Lay off, will ya?

If I wanted a lecture on
fitness, I'd go to a health club.

However, they don't do
autopsies at health clubs.

So I gotta come
here and talk to you.

What's up?

A body that was
brought in yesterday.

Looks like a simple
robbery-homicide,

but it's got a lot of
people stirred up.

What happened?

Some guy got mugged in
a park the night before last,

some kid with a g*n sh*t him.

The neighborhood is up in arms.

That's the sixth armed robbery that
took place in that park in the last month.

So now that
somebody's been k*lled,

they want action.

I can't blame them for that.

He's right.

When you can't walk the
streets without fear of getting sh*t,

things are out of control.

So Quincy...

Any help you can give us
with the investigation, huh?

- We'll get right on it.
- Good.

Thanks, Quincy.

Look at the condition
of the heart, Sam.

This guy was in great
shape for a 62-year-old man.

No scarring.

The coronary
arteries are wide open.

The valves show
no calcification.

He's well-muscled, too.

Looks like somebody
who was athletic.

Someone who tried
to take care of himself.

He deserved to live longer.

Here's the b*llet.

It tore through the
pulmonary artery.

Looks like a .22 caliber b*llet.

It's intact.

It must not have hit any bones.

Nope.

Just soft tissue.

The entrance wound is
in the intercostal space.

It slipped right
between the ribs.

There's a slight
flattening along one edge

and some blunting of the tip.

Yeah, look at the tip.

Kind of unusual.

Yeah, it's a gold tip.

You're right, they're
not that common.

Look at the deep scrape.

Like a railroad track
down this groove.

That should help ID it.

Let's send it over to
the police crime lab.

Maybe they can help
Monahan catch his m*rder*r.

It looks so small.

Sometimes it's hard to
believe that something so little

can mean the end
of a person's life.

Benny, you have the
right to remain silent.

If you give up your
right to remain silent,

anything you say
can and will be held

against you in a court of law.

You have the right to
speak with an attorney,

and to have the attorney
present during questioning.

If you so desire and
cannot afford one,

an attorney will be appointed
for you without charge

before questioning.

Do you understand each of
these rights I've explained to you?

Mmm.

Do you give up your
right to remain silent?

Yeah.

Do you give up your right
to have an attorney present

and to have him present
during questioning?

Yeah, yeah, okay.

Benny...

We've talked to your pal, Marco.

We've got a positive ID on
you from witnesses in the park.

You want to tell
us what happened?

I'm really sick, man.

I know, you're... Strung out.

You put me in a jail
cell, I'll go cold turkey.

I can't take that!

We'll put you in
a hospital, Benny.

I understand your problem.

So let's get this over, okay?

Now you want to tell us exactly
what happened in the park.

I was really thin.

I needed a fix.

We didn't have no money.

Marco got this g*n.

I dunno...

I never meant to
use it, honest I didn't.

I didn't wanna use it.

I never thought he'd
come at me like that.

I just wanted the money.

So you sh*t him?

Yes.

I was scared.

I didn't mean to do it.

If Marco didn't
come with the g*n,

it wouldn't have happened.

Nothing would have happened.
All I wanted was the money.

What'd you do with
the g*n, Benny?

I threw it away.

As far as I could throw it.

I don't know what
happened to it.

"No deposit. No return."

Ka-pow.

Ka-pow.

Okay, okay.

Has everybody had enough to eat?

All right, all right.

Now, before we
all get so full that

we can't even walk to our cars,

let's give these
guys their trophies.

First, I want to
thank all the ladies

for their outstanding efforts in
the mother-son baseball game.

Even though you failed
to score a single run,

you demonstrated some
brilliant defensive maneuvers.

I was particularly impressed
with Shirley Myerson,

who threatened to ground her son

for two weeks if
he struck her out.

Well, it worked.

He walked me.

I wish I'd thought
of a defense like that

during the season.

Now, I don't want to bore you
with a lot of empty rhetoric...

After all, we're here
today for the boys.

But I want to thank you,

each and everyone of you,

for making this program
what it has become.

Two years ago,

nobody thought that
we could organize

a baseball program
in our neighborhood...

Taking kids off the streets...

Out of gangs...

Mixing whites, and
blacks, and browns...

But we proved we could...

And not only that...

To come up winners...

The National Bank League
championship Pole Cats!

First, I want to bring
up a young man

that I could say
a lot more about

if he weren't my own son.

Even if he weren't my son,

he'd still be the best
shortstop in the league.

Beyond that, he's made the job
of being the coach's kid look easy...

With hustle, determination...

Good competitive spirit.

May I present the first
trophy to Robbie Drake,

shortstop and co-captai
n of the Pole Cats.

- Nice going, Son.
- Thanks, Dad.

Hey, bros!

What you think you're doing?

You guys look silly
in those uniforms.

You going to a Halloween party?

Lighten up, Luke.

They're not worth the time.

You chicken to
come over here, boy?

All right boys, move
along, we're busy.

Yo, bros,

the man asked you to leave.

Don't pay them any mind, Robbie.

They're nothing but trash.

Who you calling
trash, you witch?

You're trash, that's who!

You!

You!

Oh, my God! He's sh*t!

Robbie!

He's bleeding!

According to Monahan, it was
one of those senseless att*cks...

Probably g*ng-related.

He was there to get an
award for playing baseball.

Fifteen years old...

Any suspects?

Yeah, but nobody in custody.

It's a wonder there
weren't more k*lled.

One dead, that's bad enough.

It isn't my imagination, Sam.

Every day you hear
about more g*n deaths.

People sh*t in a robbery,

people sh*t in g*ng fights,

people sh*t in family squabbles,

people sh*t by accident.

Something's wrong.

Something's wrong when
you can't go to a public park

for a picnic without fear
of being gunned down.

Here's the b*llet path,

right through the liver.

It perforated the
hepatic artery.

He never had a chance.

The b*llet's still inside.

Let me see.

There it is.

I feel it.

- Look at that, Sam.
- Yeah.

A .22 caliber b*llet.

Yeah, with a gold tip.

Yeah, a gold tip and the same
railroad track scrape in this groove.

The same as the b*llet we
took out of that robbery victim.

You figure the same
guy is doing the sh**ting?

No, Monahan told me they
picked a guy up and he confessed.

But they never found
the m*rder w*apon.

- The g*n?
- Yeah.

Police searched for
it but couldn't find it.

Then somebody else
could have picked it up.

Wouldn't it be a terrible irony

if they caught the m*rder*r
but the k*ller got away...

A .22 caliber handgun.

A k*ller that's still out there.

Hi, John. Thanks
for waiting for me.

Quincy, I wouldn't have stayed
late tonight for anybody but you.

And as it is, my wife is probably
gonna throw my dinner at me.

I'll try not to take too long.

I'd have come earlier,

except I had three
autopsies to finish.

You remember those two
gold-tipped .22 b*ll*ts we sent over?

- The two homicides?
- Sure.

Came from the same g*n.

Yeah... That's what I
want to find out about.

The g*n.

What can you tell
me about the g*n

from having
examined the b*ll*ts?

- Well, the caliber, of course.
- I know, it's a .22.

A handgun,
according to witnesses.

But any way of knowing what
make or model it might be?

How come you wanna
know that, Quincy?

I guess you could
say I'm on a g*n hunt.

It's gotten to be kind
of a personal thing.

There've been two people
on my table this week

who wouldn't have been there
if it hadn't been for this one g*n.

Quincy, I've known
you long enough to know

that, when something
gets to be personal,

there's no stopping you.

Here. I've got the
ballistics report.

But let me put these b*ll*ts

under the comparison
microscope again.

Let me just, uh...
Eyeball them again.

What do you see?

The rifling pattern...

The lands and grooves...

There's always a
specific number.

These b*ll*ts have eight.

And it's got a spiral
twist to the right.

What?

This is just a guess, mind you.

There are several makes
that have an eight-right pattern.

But I think you're looking

for a Waldenburg E.S.

A .22 revolver.

Waldenburg... I've
never heard of it.

It's a Saturday Night Special.

A cheap import... Easy
to get, easy to conceal.

These g*ns have only
one purpose... Crime.

I thought there was a
law banning those imports.

The g*n Control
Act of 1968 banned

what it called
"non-sporting" handguns.

Unfortunately, it failed to ban
importing the parts of those g*ns.

The Waldenburg comes
from an outfit in the south

that brings the parts in
from Europe by the shipload,

assembles the g*ns here,

and floods the market with them.

Easy to get...

Easy to conceal...

Easy to sh**t.

It's just getting too
easy to k*ll, isn't it?

Yeah.

He's in my office. We just
picked him up an hour ago.

How'd you find him?

A phone tip. He's
admitted to the sh**ting.

He's seventeen, Quincy.

Walter, this is Dr. Quincy.

He wanted to talk to you.

A doctor?

I'm with the Coroner's Office.

I did the autopsy
on the boy you sh*t.

Oh, yeah.

Why did you sh**t him?

Wasn't trying to sh**t him.

That lady...

She called me trash.

When she said that...

Something like...

Something like that
exploded in my head.

I don't remember
nothing after that.

What were you doing
with a g*n in the car?

Man, we was lookin'
for the Ravens.

It's a rival g*ng, Quincy.

The Ravens, they blew away
one of our boys last week.

The word was out
they weren't cool.

So when I found this g*n...

Man, that was like gold.

I never had a g*n before.

What kind was it?

I dunno.

It had a funny design on it.

Design? What kind of a design?

It looked like...

Like a star that was sendin'
its rays out in all directions.

Like a starburst?

Yeah, I guess.

It looked like a
dude filed it on.

That matches the
description Benny gave.

Walter, where's the g*n now?

I hocked it.

Where?

Mel's Pawn Shop.

Over on Western Avenue.

Wasn't that taking a chance

with a m*rder w*apon?

He don't ask questions
about anything.

I was trying to get
money for a bus ticket.

But he only gave me ten bucks.

Ten bucks...

Not much for two lives, is it?

What can I do for you?

Uh...

I was interested in a guitar.

Yes, sir, we have
a big selection.

Anyone in particular?

That one.

Yeah, there.

- The one in the middle?
- Yeah.

Here you go.

Not bad.

How much do you want for it?

You can have it for 85 bucks.

Where is it?

Right over here.

I thought about you right
away when it came in.

Where'd you get it?

From a kid.

He either found it

or stole it, from
the looks of things.

No serial number.

No...

Serial number like that...

Probably gone a long time ago.

That's why I thought
of you, Slammer.

I mean you couldn't even
trace that g*n with a bloodhound.

How much?

Sixty bucks.

You kidding? It's not
worth twenty bucks.

Registered and with a serial
number, it's worth twenty bucks.

Like that it's sixty.

I take enough
chances in this joint.

I mean, the kid comes in,

pay cash for the g*n,

I don't list the
g*n on inventory.

As far as I'm concerned
it doesn't even exist.

Sixty bucks!

I'll give you forty-five.

Make it fifty, and you
got yourself a deal.

Nice doing business with you.

Can I help you
guys with something?

Yeah, I understand you
took in a Waldenburg E.S.

a couple of days ago.

A Waldenburg?

No, I don't think so.

From a black kid. A teenager.

Nope, I'd remember that.

I'm real careful

when kids come in
and want to hock g*ns.

But this boy said he came here.

He said you gave him
ten bucks for the g*n.

Look, pal, you hard of
hearing or something?

I told you I didn't take
a g*n from a black kid.

What are you after, anyway?

I'm Dr. Quincy from
the Coroner's Office.

Doesn't cut any ice with me...

I'm Sergeant Brill, LAPD.
That cut the ice with you?

- Okay, what do you want?
- We're looking for a g*n.

Now I hope you keep records.

- Yeah, I keep records.
- Let's see 'em.

All right.

You can see, I got
about three, four...

Waldenburgs in here.

All the... Everything's
registered.

All the serial
numbers, the owners...

You see, gentlemen, right here.

The last one came in
about two months ago.

How do we know you
didn't make those names up?

Look, Doc, you watch it
making accusations, okay?

I run a respectable business.

I'm sure you do.

Can I see those g*ns?

Sure, you can see the g*ns.

No starburst.

A what?

Never mind.

Come on, Brill,
let's get ouf of here.

We'll get no help from this guy.

I thought you said the
serial number was already off.

I'm just makin' sure.

When I work on
cars, I do a careful job.

Same with g*ns.

I still think you're
crazy to try it.

So maybe I'd rather be
crazy than treated like dirt.

I'm not gonna roll
over for McCullough.

I'm gonna k*ll him.

You're movin' in the
big time now, Willie.

They're testing you.

See if you're a team player.

I don't like their
rules, Slammer.

I make a deal, I stick to it.

I expect the same.

They made maybe $500,000
on that coke and hash...

I deserve my fair cut.

I think you're goin'
about it wrong.

Don't worry about
me, Slammer. Okay?

I got it all planned.

I'm goin' out real late tonight.

And I won't be back in
town for a couple months.

How much?

- Ninety bucks.
- Ninety bucks?

That's kind of steep, Slammer.

Maybe you'd like to go
to one of my competitors.

No.

Oh, no...

I wasn't speeding, officer...

No, sir. Your
back lights are out.

May I see your driver's license?

Yeah, sure.

Slammer!

Take it easy.

You gotta help me!

What went down, man?

I sh*t a cop!

A cop?

That's bad news, pal.

I know that...

I got scared...

If he checked my license, I
knew he'd take me in for warrants...

And I'm carryin' a g*n...

I didn't know what
else to do, Slammer!

But a cop, man...
That's real bad news.

Stop sayin' that, Slammer!

Slammer, you owe
me, you know that!

I dunno, pal. I mean...

You gotta help me, Slammer!

Okay, pal, cut it out.

Let me tell you something.

Maybe I owe you one.

You want me to take that old
thing off your hands, do you?

Okay, I'm gonna get
rid of this thing for you.

And then I'm gonna
forget I ever knew you.

You got that?

And police have no further clues

in the near-fatal sh**ting
of a patrol officer last night.

The officer, Ray
Patterson of Gardena,

underwent three hours of
surgery after the incident

and is still in a coma.

And on a more colorful note...

Motorists on the San
Bernardino Freeway...

Slammer!

What're you doin' here?

You know what I'm doin' here.

Can't pay a visit
to my little sister?

- You usually don't, is all.
- No?

Well, I got somethin' for you.

Oh?

What?

Anybody home?

No.

Tommy's at work.

The kids are at school.

This is for you.

I don't get it.

I want you to have it.

To take care of yourself.
You know what I mean?

No, Slammer, I don't want
one of those things around.

You can hide it someplace.

But if you need
it, you can get it.

I don't know...

Look, Rae Ann...

You know what I'm talkin' about.

Just for intimidation,
you know what I mean?

This g*n could keep you
and the kids from gettin' hurt.

You never did like Tommy.

There's not much to like.

That's not fair, Slammer.

Tommy can be real nice
sometimes. You don't know him.

Well, I haven't seen
nice! All I've seen is rotten.

You oughta get away from him,

is what I think.

You know what I mean, kid?

I got two kids.

Where you think I'm gonna go?

Look...

Take it.

Just in case.

All right?

Does it have b*ll*ts in it?

You bet.

It's ready to go.

Well, okay.

It's so little.

It looks like a toy.

Here's another one,

"Neighbor sh**t Neighbor
in Dispute over Orange Tree".

Can you believe somebody could
get k*lled over an orange tree?

I read that a police
officer had been sh*t.

He's still alive,
but he's critical.

I've been doing some reading,

and the statistics
are frightening.

Somebody in this country
gets m*rder*d with a handgun

every fifty minutes.

And during the seven year
peak period of the Vietnam w*r?

More people d*ed here
in America from handguns

than d*ed fighting in that w*r.

I feel like we've got a w*r
right here on our streets.

For once I'm in complete
agreement with you, Quincy.

What're you doing here?

I just wanted to pass
along some information.

What?

You might have heard

that a police officer
was sh*t last night.

We were just talking about it.

His name's Ray Patterson,
he's a friend of mine.

Got a nice wife,
a couple of kids.

Is he going to pull through?

We don't know.

He was in surgery for three
hours last night. We'll see.

They dug a b*llet
out of him. A .22.

I had John Todd run
a comparison on it.

You don't mean it matched?

It sure did.

The rifling pattern was exactly
the same as your two gold tips.

That officer was sh*t with
the same g*n you're looking for.

Holy mackerel!

The g*n, it's like it's a jinx!

It's a k*ller. I want
that g*n, Monahan

I've put out an
all-department's bulletin

to be on the alert for
a Waldenburg E.S.

with a starburst
filed on the handle.

You mean it takes a
law officer being sh*t

before you get serious?

No, it doesn't mean
that at all, Dr. Asten.

A lot of people think the police

mobilize faster for a cop-k*ller

because they care
more about their buddies.

That's not it.

We care about
anybody who gets sh*t.

But somebody
who'll sh**t a cop...

That's someone
who'll sh**t anybody.

That makes him a
real dangerous person.

We want to get that guy off
the streets as fast as we can.

Hey, turn that
thing down, in there!

Now see what you've done!

Where've you been?

Nowhere.

Haven't you had enough?

Get off my back.

You get your paycheck?

Yeah, I got my paycheck.

What do you think I go
pound nails all day for?

'Cause it's fun?

While you sit here
and watch TV all day.

I do not sit,
watching TV all day!

In other news, torrential
rains of Louisiana have...

Well?

Well what?

Well, where's the money?

From the paycheck?

You did it again, didn't you!

You went drinkin' with those
no-good buddies and you blew it!

I didn't blow it all!

Oh, good! I'm real glad!

You leave enough
for Aaron's new shoes?

You leave enough for
the payment on the TV?

They're gonna take the TV away!

- Then let 'em take it away!
- Tommy!

Let 'em take it, there won't
be nothin' left for 'em to take!

You kids come back here!

Let 'em go, they're
scared of you.

I told 'em to come back,
I expect 'em to mind!

Tommy, you're drunk!

Get out of the way!

You're drunk and you're mean,
and I'm not letting you near them!

Hey, calm down over
there or I'm calling the police!

I've had it with your backtalk!

You stay where you are,
Tommy, or I swear I'll k*ll you.

Where'd you get that thing?

Never mind where I got it.

It got b*ll*ts in it?

You bet it's got b*ll*ts!

I put 'em in before
you got home.

What'd you go and
do that for, Rae Ann?

Because of you, that's why!

So you can't b*at me
and the kids up no more.

Rae Ann, a g*n's
a dangerous thing.

You ought to put it down.

Don't you come no closer, Tommy!

Come on, honey.

Stop!

I came as soon as I
got your message, John.

Yeah, we thought
you'd want to see this.

Starburst, just like
the kid described it.

The serial number's been
filed off. Make it hard to trace.

But I think I can raise it.

What are you doing?

I polished it...

And then I
swabbed it with this...

Etching reagent...

The copper-ammonia
reagent reacts more slowly

with the compressed metal caused

when the serial number
was stamped in...

The metal around the numbers
is eaten away more quickly

leaving the numbers.

Okay.

Seven-one-six...

Four-one-four.

Now I can get a trace on it.

See where it's been
before it got here.

Where'd you get It?

Picked it up in a domestic
argument last night.

Woman fired it at her husband.

She missed, he
started b*ating up on her

and a neighbor
called the police.

At least we've got it
before it kills anybody else.

I haven't run the
comparison check on it yet.

It might take a while, if you
want to get coffee or something.

- Okay. We'll see you later, John.
- Right.

Those test b*ll*ts ought
to provide a positive link

between the w*apon,
the two murders,

and the att*ck on Ray Patterson.

- Do you want a coffee?
- No, thanks.

Hey, how's he doing?

I talked to his
wife this morning.

He was out of
his coma last night

but couldn't speak.

This morning, he's
unconscious again.

Three victims.

Three people pulling
the trigger. One g*n.

They say g*ns don't
k*ll people, people do.

While we were picking
up the murderers,

the g*n was still out
there... Still k*lling.

What do you want to do?
Take away all the g*ns?

Of course not.

I'm not trying to say
there's a simple solution

to a complicated problem.

And I'm not talking
about sporting g*ns.

r*fles, shotguns
or target pistols.

Hunting and sh**ting are
part of American tradition.

I'm talking about handguns.

What about the
law-abiding citizen

who only wants
to protect himself?

Answer me this, Monahan.

If you were a criminal and
came into somebody's house,

would you be more intimidated
by a handgun or a shotgun?

- A shotgun.
- Exactly.

The only reason for a
handgun is so you can hide it...

You don't need to hide
a defensive w*apon.

And in your experience as
a law enforcement officer,

how helpful have you
found handguns to be

in providing self-protection?

Almost none, Quincy.

As a matter of fact,
most of the time...

The g*n is more
likely to do harm

to the owner and its
family than to a criminal.

Then tell me why
are we manufacturing

millions of new
handguns every year?

Why is one sold
every thirteen seconds?

Why are there going to be over
one hundred million handguns

in this country by
the turn of the century.

What good are
these g*ns doing...

Except to make money
for the manufacturers

and to provide cheap,
lethal weapons for criminals?

What do you want
to do about it, Quincy?

I want some kind of controls!

The whole thing's gone crazy.

It's like a roller coaster
that's jumped the track

and run wild.

I think we need a
national handgun law,

not the crazy
patchwork we've got now

with every state doing
something different.

I think we should ban

the manufacture of
Saturday Night Specials.

I think we should stop supplying
the criminals with these weapons!

And you know what?

So do most of the
people in this country.

A lot of people
might argue with that.

A lot of people might.

But the overwhelming
majority of Americans,

seventy-five percent,

want tighter controls
on handguns.

But they don't
know how to get it.

So what's the
alternative, Monahan?

More v*olence, more deaths?

v*olence is the ultimate
human degradation.

m*rder is the ultimate
human tragedy.

What good are the
values of our society

if we don't try to put the
brakes on v*olence and m*rder?

How you coming, John?

Well, I've checked
all three of the b*ll*ts

we had from the phantom g*n.

And I've compared them

to several of the b*ll*ts
from this Waldenburg.

And there's no doubt about it.

- This is the g*n?
- I'm afraid not, Quincy.

None of the b*ll*ts match up.

This is a Waldenburg
E.S. all right.

But it's not the
g*n you're after.

How can that be?

I showed it to Walter and
Benny and they identified it.

Yeah?

Yeah, he's right here. Hold on.

- Monahan.
- Thanks.

I think I may know
what happened, though.

- What?
- See these marks
around the pin...

- Yeah.
- Somebody changed the barrel

on this g*n.

Changed the barrel?

That's why the rifling
pattern is different.

Same g*n, different barrel.

Then how are we
going to link this g*n

with the b*llet that
sh*t the police officer?

The only way would be if
we had one of the casings.

See, in a revolver...

The casing stays in the cylinder

after the b*llet is fired.

But the f*ring pin makes a
distinct pattern on the casing.

If we had the casing
from that sh**ting

we could make
another comparison.

Do we have that?

No.

It must have stayed with
whoever pulled the trigger.

Monahan...

What's up?

Ray Patterson.

He d*ed an hour ago.

g*ns don't die...

But people do.

- Yes?
- Mrs. Riley?

I'm Lieutenant Monahan, Los
Angeles Police Department.

Could we step in for a minute?

- Police...
- Just a few questions.

All right.

Thank you.

Mrs. Riley, this is Dr. Quincy
from the County Coroner's Office.

How do you do?

Would you like to sit down?

Thank you.

It's all right.

This is about the
other night, isn't it?

Indirectly, yes.

We understand there was
a domestic argument here...

The officers confiscated
the g*n you fired.

It's the g*n we're
interested in.

Can you tell us
where you got it?

I found it.

Where?

In the trash.

Outside.

When was that?

It was three or four days ago.

I was putting some
trash outside in the

dumpster...

And when I opened it up

I saw that g*n just lyin'
there on the bottom...

And then what?

Well, I said "My goodness,

"who would go and throw
away a g*n?" and then...

And then you climbed in for it?

Mrs. Riley, let me explain
why we want to know.

That g*n has been responsible

for at least three
deaths that we know of.

Most recently the
death of a police officer.

No.

That's why we have
to know the truth.

Whoever k*lled that
officer is still out there.

No, Slammer would never do...

Who's Slammer?

Nothing, no one, I
didn't mean to say that.

Mrs. Riley, I think
I'd better remind you

that we're talking
about homicide.

And that if you knowingly
protect someone

who committed homicide,

you become an accessory.

Slammer's my brother.

He brought me the g*n.

But he wouldn't k*ll
anybody, I know he wouldn't.

He only brought it for me
'cause he was worried about me.

I was scared of Tommy...

Tommy gets drunk
and he starts hittin' on us

and Slammer was
worried about us.

He was only thinkin'
about me and the kids,

don't you see?

Mrs. Riley...

If your brother was only
interested in your welfare,

why would he give you a g*n

that had already been
used as a m*rder w*apon?

Mr. Angelini!

Mr. Angelini, are you there?

Mr. Angelini,
this is the police.

He has a regular arsenal here.

Yeah.

Wonder how many of
these he's got permits for.

Maybe he's a gunsmith.

Sure.

A lot of them work
out of their garages.

Hold it right there!

Mr. Angelini?

What're you guys doing here?

The door was open.

So?

I ain't got nothing to hide.

I'm Lieutenant Monahan, Los
Angeles Police Department.

If you let me put my hand in
my coat I'll show you my ID.

Do it slow.

What's this all about?

You got quite an armory here.

Expecting an invasion?

I'm a collector.

You got permits on all this?

You bet I have. It's
all on the up and up.

What about the g*n
you gave your sister?

- Which sister?
- Mrs. Riley.

She said the g*n she used

to take a sh*t at her
husband came from you.

- Me?
- Yeah.

No... I don't know
what you're talkin' about.

It's a Waldenburg .22
with a starburst on it.

That you changed the barrel on.

You guys are trespassing.
You got no right to be here.

Sorry, pal...

We got a search warrant.

And what we're doing is
confiscating this little stockpile.

See what kinds of extra
parts you have lyin' around.

Well, Lieutenant,
you go right ahead.

You're not gonna find anything
here that's not on the up and up.

Even this?

What's that?

If the f*ring pin imprints
on any of these casings

matches the one on the
Waldenburg we got from your sister,

you're in deep trouble.

I don't know what
you're talkin' about.

Then let me make
myself perfectly clear.

One b*llet was fired
into a police officer

out of a Waldenburg .22.

After that, you
changed the barrels

so even if the g*n
turned up again,

the f*ring pattern
would be different.

But as you know, the imprint
on the casings are the same

regardless of how different
the markings are on the b*ll*ts.

So if you've got something
to get off your chest,

you better get it off now.

When we leave here,
we're gonna go to the lab.

If any of these casings match...

We've got a direct connection
between you and m*rder one.

I'm not takin' the
rap for anybody!

It wasn't me... I sold the g*n
to a guy, Willie McCracken.

I'm telling you the truth.

He sh*t the cop and he
brought the g*n back here.

He took off, but I
can ID him for you.

I know his car.

He's the one you want, not me!

Hey, lazy bones!

Better get moving.
Your eggs are ready.

Hey, honey, come here a
minute. Would you, please?

What's up?

I'd like you to see
something here.

Where?

Here.

Can you see this?

Yeah, okay.

Well, you see it?

Where I'm pointing here.

I see your head. It's still
there, if you're worried.

Don't you see the grey hair?

Grey hair?

Sweetie...

If you're getting grey hair,

I promise you it'll only
make you more handsome.

Don't give me that line
about "distinguished"

'cause I never bought that.

Hello...

Speaking.

Oh, really?

It's the Bureau of Alcohol,
Tobacco and Firearms.

Serious, serious.

Yeah, what can I do for you?

A Waldenburg?

Yeah...

Well... I mean, I did.

About eight or nine years ago

when my wife was
pregnant, I bought it

and I was traveling a lot...

It was for her protection.

Well, it got stolen...

Yeah, a couple of
months after I bought it.

Somebody broke in
and cleaned us out.

So I never even got to use it...

You're kidding...

Oh, well, that's great.

Okay.

Thanks for calling.

Bye.

What in the world
was that all about?

Remember that g*n I bought
when you were pregnant with Jeff?

- Yeah.
- They found it.

Who found it?

The Government...

The Treasury Department has
a handgun tracing department.

Can you believe it, after
five years that g*n turned up?

Who has it?

The LA Police Department.

They're using it for
some kind of investigation.

But the guy said, when
they're done with it,

it goes back to its last legally
registered owner, which is me.

So...

I don't know if I want it back.

Come on...

Honey, we've been
through this before.

What am I gonna do? Say no?

I've wanted you to
have another g*n

ever since that one disappeared.

So, look. It's like
fate brought it back.

I want you to have it...

I'd feel better if I knew
you could defend yourself.

It makes me feel uneasy
a g*n in the house.

It always did.

I'll go over it with you again,
how to use it and everything.

It's important to me
knowing that you're safe.

Didn't he say 7:00?
It's almost 7:30!

He'll be here soon.

I'm hungry! I've eaten
all the rolls and crackers...

I want dinner!

Then let's go ahead and order.

Danny!

Can't hold out any longer, huh?

I want the lasagna.

And bring some more rolls, okay?

Veal parmesan for me.

- Okay.
- Banana sandwich.

Banana?

Hey, there he is,
chugging like a locomotive.

Sorry I'm late.

Quincy, you mean you
ran here? All the way?

- Yeah.
- Wow, that's seven miles!

Yeah, it's the first
time I ever tried seven.

Took me a little
longer than I thought.

Well, you ready for food?

Or would you prefer
a t*nk of oxygen?

Some mineral water and a
seafood salad. No dressing, okay?

That's all?

Running suppresses the appetite.

I mean, you should try it.

What do you mean?

Ah, who invited the cops?

- We thought we'd
bring Quincy the news.
- What?

We can close the books
on that Waldenburg.

What do you mean?

Willie McCracken
was found in Detroit.

Police went to pick him
up, they had a sh**t.

He's dead, Quincy.

So that's the last of it. The
murderers all accounted for.

And we've got the g*n.

We have it for now.

- But not for long.
- What do you mean?

It was a stolen g*n, Quincy.

When we traced it, we found
the legally registered owner.

So if they want
it back, it goes.

Somehow it doesn't seem right.

I'd feel better if that
g*n was melted down.

That's what we do if we don't
know who the legal owner is.

But in this case we do,
and the guy wants it back.

I wish he didn't.

Hey, come on, Quincy.

This is a law-abiding
citizen, not a criminal.

It'll be okay.

The important thing is
we got the murderers.

Well, at least that's something.

Why don't you guys
order some food?

Thanks, Diane.

Diane, I'll have the spaghetti.

Fettucini alfredo.

Quincy, you sticking
with seafood salad?

Absolutely.

With a side order of ravioli.

cr*cker! cr*cker!

Here, kitty, kitty!

You need to get
on the spaceship...

We're blasting off...

cr*cker, get out of there.

Wow.

Jeff... Jeff, come on!

Come on.

Princess Flora... Give me the
plans for the space invasion.

I want to ride the rocket ship.

I'll give you three seconds

before I blast you
with my laser g*n.

Come on, Jeff, you said
I could be the captain.

One...

Two...

Three...