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: Mr. Greer, you left the scene of an accident on a slow week night, six miles from a state police barracks. Believe me. If there's a line, you're right up front. Mr. Greer
: I can get a lawyer any time I want. I don't need you for that. We're not sitting here for forty five minutes for a god damned referral. Michael Clayton
: I don't know what Walter promised you but... Mr. Greer
: A miracle worker. That's Walter on the phone twenty minutes ago. Direct quote, okay, "Hang tight, I'm sending you a miracle worker." Michael Clayton
: Well he misspoke. Mr. Greer
: About what? That you're the firms fixer? Or that you're any good at it?
[explodes in anger
] Mr. Greer
: The guy was RUNNING. In the STREET! You take that, you add the fog, you add the light, you add the... the angle. What the fuck is he doing running in the middle of the street at midnight? You answer me that, huh?
[Mrs. Greer throws a glass across the room, there's a long pause
] Mr. Greer
: What if someone had stolen the car? Huh? Happens all the time. Michael Clayton
: Cops like hit and runs. They work them hard and they clear them fast. Right now there's a DCI unit pulling paint chips off a guard rail. Tomorrow they're going to be looking for the owner of a custom painted hand rubbed Jaguar XJ12. If the guy you hit, if he got a look at the plates? It won't even take that long.
[the phone rings
] Michael Clayton
: There's no play here. There's no angle. There's no champagne room. I'm not a miracle worker, I'm a janitor. The math on this is simple. The smaller the mess the easier it is for me to clean up. Mr. Greer
: [points to the phone
] That's the police isn't it? Michael Clayton
: No. They don't call.