FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: This is the not fucking around crew so get me something that looks like a print because this not fucking around thing is about to go both ways.
Doug MacRay: I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people.
James Coughlin: ...Whose car are we gonna' take?
Claire Keesey: Did you say your name was Jim or Gem?
James Coughlin: Well, huh, it's kinda both. The teacher's use to always say, "Here take this one. He's a gem."
James Coughlin: [talking about Doug] Secrets with this one.
Doug MacRay: Alright. I'm in. But if anything happens to her, if I think anything might happen to her... I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna kill both of you in your own shop.
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: Do I hear you got a sweet new girlfriend?
Doug MacRay: I'm thinking about making a change...
Stephen MacRay: "Making a change," either you got heat or you don't.
James Coughlin: You grew up right here! Same rules that I did.
James Coughlin: If we get jammed up, we're holding court on the street.
Doug MacRay: What are you, a trigger man now?
Doug MacRay: You following us, Jem? Who were you tailing, me or her?
James Coughlin: I told you. I made the Avalanche.
Doug MacRay: You got nothing to worry about. It's all under control.
James Coughlin: So, you're trying to get us jammed up, that it?
Doug MacRay: Yeah, I'm trying to get you jammed up.
James Coughlin: Tell me you got a move here, Dougie. Cause the only way I see it, is that you got sprung like a goddamn beer trap on some toonie pussy who happens to be the one goddamn person-*fuck*! the one person that can give us to the fucking feds.
Doug MacRay: Calm down. Don't you think we need to be smart right now?
James Coughlin: Smart? Let's start fucking all the witnesses. Oh yeah I'm blowing the Assistant manager, am I smart now? And no, I didn't tell the other guys because they'd flip the fuck out! And I want the ready for the next thing.
Doug MacRay: I told you, the next fucking thing ain't ready yet.
James Coughlin: Then fucking make it ready!
Doug MacRay: I don't like the guards on the next thing, alright. One kid is like fucking G.I. Joe, He wears the vest on the outside and tucks his pants into his fucking combat boots.
James Coughlin: The truck's fucking waist high.
Doug MacRay: We'll find another truck with the driver who's a fucking fat kid with his fucking shit on top who don't think he's special forces.
James Coughlin: Well I know your happy in fuck-city over there but I waited nine years in Walpole for you Motherfucker, just nine years that's all. I'm done waiting
Doug MacRay: This is the last one. We're hitting pause after this. We get pinched, remember whose idea this was, okay. Be ready on Friday.
Doug MacRay: [narrating] Driver's name is Arthur Shea. Former Metro Police officer, fifty-seven years old. Soon as his partner leaves with the coal bag, Artie cracks a Herald, and he don't look up 'til the guy gets back. Marty Maguire. Cummins Armored courier. Five-ten, two-twenty, fifty-two years old. Picks up every Wednesday and Friday at exactly 8:12, makes a hundred and ten dollars a day, carries a Sig nine. And he's about to get robbed.
[cuts to Doug and Jem briefing their comrades, Gloansy and Dez, in a dark room]
Doug MacRay: We're fucked if we see a helicopter, we're fucked if we see SWAT. We see a cruiser, stop, take out the engine blocks, keep movin'. No one needs to get hurt.
James Coughlin: Yeah, these guards like to test you, though. They wanna get hurt for ten dollars an hour, don't get in the way.
Krista Coughlin: You gotta chase the rabbit if you want the tail.
Krista Coughlin: My mom told me that.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You're a pretty good judge of size, right?
Krista Coughlin: Size of what?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: [pulls out a $20 bill] What do you think? 6 inches? Under or over?
Krista Coughlin: Under.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Wrong. 6.1 inches. See I know everything there is to know about money. Thickness, 0.0014 inches. Weighs about 1 gram.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You know what that means? That means this $20 bill isn't even worth it's own weight in value for Oxycodone.
[realizes he really is an FBI agent]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You thinking of running out on me? Not gonna work. Because once I start waving this
[flashes FBI badge]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: it's trouble for you.
Krista Coughlin: I want a lawyer.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Good, get one. Because it's all about protecting yourself. Not even yourself... you have to protect your daughter.
Krista Coughlin: Don't talk about my daughter.
Doug MacRay: No matter how much you change, you still have to pay the price for the things you've done. So I got a long road. But I know I'll see you again - this side or the other.
Doug MacRay: Something wrong with the apartment?
James Coughlin: No. The Florist.
Doug MacRay: The Florist what?
James Coughlin: He came through.
Doug MacRay: Ah, Jesus Christ.
James Coughlin: It large Dougie.
Doug MacRay: We're smoked hunters. Look, pick up an extra guy or go with three guys but fucking be smart and boot it.
James Coughlin: Oh so you're not going?
Doug MacRay: No. I'm not going.
James Coughlin: Why is that?
Doug MacRay: Because we got a ton of fucking heat on us for one thing.
James Coughlin: Look. We'll put a move on them. I mean, we've done it a hundred times before.
Doug MacRay: You know what, do what you want. I'm done.
James Coughlin: What?
Doug MacRay: I'm done.
James Coughlin: What does that mean?
Doug MacRay: What does it sound like?
James Coughlin: What the fuck do you mean, you're done? Sounds like a buncha fucking bullshit.
Doug MacRay: Let me put it to you this way, I'm putting this whole fucking town in my rear view.
James Coughlin: There are people I can't let you walk away from.
Doug MacRay: What? Who?
James Coughlin: Come on.
Doug MacRay: She's not my kid. Did she say that it was? I mean, come on, cut it out. All you give a fuck about is coke and Xbox and now you're trying say you care about Shyne, come on.
James Coughlin: You know what your fucking problem is, you think you're better than people. Mister fucking clean, mister goddamn high and mighty. That's what you think, but you grew up right here. Same rules that I did.
Doug MacRay: Who the fuck do you think you are? You're gonna let me or not let me do shit. Here's a little fucking cheat sheet for you. Its never gonna be me and you and your sister and Shyne playing house up there. You got it? Get that in your fucking head! I'm tired of your fucking one way bullshit. You wanna see me again? You can come visit me down in Florida.
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: You know they either geld a horse with a knife or with chemicals. When your Daddy said "no" to me, I did him the chemical way.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You and your boys didn't just roll a star market over in Malden for a box of quarters. No, you decided to bang it out in the North End at nine o'clock in the morning with assault rifles. You fucking dummies shot a guard! Now you're like a half off sale at a Big & Tall - every cop is in line. Fortunately though, for you, this guard, who is two-thirds to a retard, has miraculously clung to life. Now, if it were up to me, and they gave me two minutes and a wet towel, I would personally asphyxiate this half-wit so we could string you up on a federal M1 and end this story with a bag on your head and a paralyzing agent running through your veins. This isn't fucking Tommy Hopscotch anymore, Doug. But I did wanna say one thing: You're here today so I can personally tell you that you are going to die in federal prison. And so are all your friends. No deal. No compromise. And when that day comes when you start trying to be my hero collaborator so hard that I have to slap you to shut up, and it will come, despite your pitiable, misguided, Irish Omertà. When your code of silence finally gives way to fear of trafficking in cigarettes to prevent sexual enslavement, I just want you to know that it's gonna be me who told you to go fuck yourself.
Krista Coughlin: There he is; Mr Six Inches
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: What happened?
Krista Coughlin: You're a crime stopper; figure it the fuck out.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Now, we're a long way away from a grand jury here... and we'll never get 24 hour surveillance unless one of these idiots converts to Islam. So, we build the case. Alright, let's get to work.
Doug MacRay: Not the way I planned it, but for the first time in my life, I'm leaving this city. Maybe if I go, I can stop looking.
Dino Ciampa: [referring to James Coughlin's murder conviction] When the judge asked him why he did it, he said: "I didn't like the kid." Served nine years for manslaughter.
Doug MacRay: [to Fergie, with a gun pointed at his groin] Remember who clipped your nuts for you.
[Pulls the trigger]
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: You're going to do this for me, or I'm going to clip your nuts, like I clipped your daddy's.
Doug MacRay: Don't talk about my father.
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: Son, I knew your daddy. He worked for me for years. Years. Then he wanted his own thing. You play the horses? You know they either geld the horse with a knife or with chemicals. When your Daddy said no to me, I did him the chemical way. Gave your mother a taste. Got the hook into her. Ahh, she doped up good and proper. Hung herself with a wire, on Melnea Cass. And you, running around the neighborhood looking for her. Your daddy didn't have the heart to tell his son that he was looking for a suicide doper who was never coming home. If there's a Heaven son, she ain't in it.
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: Cash is brought out and stacked fifteen minutes before the van does the pick up. That is when you hit. On Monday morning, before game stands in New York, sixty thousand beers, food, merchandise. Total call; three and a half million. Taking down the cathedral of Boston? Priceless.
[as Doug, Dez, Coughlin, and Gloansy have a small gathering, Frawley and Dino take photos of them from their car with a long-range camera]
Dino Ciampa: [voice-over] Desmond Elden. Systems tech at Vericom. 22 years old.
[Cuts to Frawley and Dino briefing their agents. They bring up Gloansy's images on the projector]
Dino Ciampa: Albert Magloan. Only in Boston is a guy named "Albert Magloan".
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Mr. Magloan never met a car he couldn't boost. The kind of talented individual who can start your Cherokee for you while you're still looking for your keys.
[as he says that, a black-and-white flashback is shown of Gloansy breaking into a car. Coughlin's mugshot comes up on the projector]
Dino Ciampa: James Coughlin. Father was killed in prison. Mother died HIV. Shot Brendan Leahey by the cemetery behind Mishawum when he was eighteen years old. Bled it out. When the judge asked him why he did it, he said, "I didn't like the kid." Served nine years for manslaughter.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: These guys plan and execute with sophistication and discipline, and that is not our boy Coughlin.
[produces photos of Doug]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: We think the architect is this guy: Coughlin's best friend, Doug MacRay.
Dino Ciampa: He lives in the same house, dated Coughlin's sister, who most likely mules to the Florist, who used to employ MacRay's father. You need a fucking venn diagram for these people.
[Stifled chuckles come from the agents]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Mac, Senior got life for the Nashwood job which most of you should remember. Hijacked a bread truck up to New Hampshire. One guard saw his face, so, they executed both of them with their own weapons. I think Mac's legacy is now no A-car driver's allowed to leave the cab, even if there's a gun to his partner's head.
Dino Ciampa: Young MacRay did eight months easy for going over the counter of a Bay Bank with a nail gun after he washed out from pro hockey.
Agent Quinlan: Pro hockey?
Dino Ciampa: Yeah. He was a big deal for a minute. Got drafted, went to camp but here's the shocker: he started makin' trouble, fightin' with guys.
Agent Quinlan: Don't they pay you to fight in hockey?
Dino Ciampa: Not the guys on your own team.
[the other FBI agents laugh]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: MacRay came home. Got into the family business. Same song: got into Oxycon. Hockey ship sailed with the narcotics. Now, we're a long way away from a grand jury here. And we'll never get 24 hour surveillance unless one of these idiots converts to Islam. So we build the case. All right, let's get to work.
[Doug is in the FBI interrogation room when Frawley comes in]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You and your boys didn't just roll a star market over in Malden for a box of quarters. No, you decided to bang it out at The North End at nine o'clock in the morning with assault rifles. You fucking dummies shot a guard. Now you look like half off sales big and tall, every cop is in line. Fortunately though, for you, this guard who is two thirds from retard has miraculously clung to life. Now, if it were up to me and they gave me two minutes and a wet towel, I would personally asphyxiate this half wit so we can string you up on a federal M-1. End of story with a bag on your head and paralyzing agent running through your veins. This isn't fucking Townie hopscotch anymore, Doug. But I did wanna say one thing.
[he leans over the table and looks Doug right in the eye]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You're here today so that I can personally tell you that you're gonna die in federal prison and so are all your friends. No deal, no compromise. And when that day comes and when you start trying to be my hero collaborator so hard that I have to slap you to shut up, and it will come, despite your pitiable misguided Irish 'Omerta'. When your code of silence finally gives way, the fear of trafficking and cigarettes to prevent sexual enslavement... I just want you to know that it's gonna be me who tells you to fuck yourself.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You used to hang around with Doug MacRay a little bit, huh?
Krista Coughlin: How do you know Dougy?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: We sorta worked together.
Krista Coughlin: Sand and Gravel?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: No. No.
[pulls out some money]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: You a pretty decent judge of size?
Krista Coughlin: Depends. Size of what?
[Frawley holds up some money]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: How big would you say this is? Six inches? Over or under.
Krista Coughlin: Under.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Wrong. 6.14 inches exactly. I know everything there is to know about money. Thickness? 0.0043 inches. Weight? About one gram. Which is interesting because that means that this twenty dollar bill isn't even worth its own weight... in oxy.
[Frawley, Dino and a Vericom crew chief are looking up at another crew member examining the hacked junction box above the bank that was robbed]
Vericom Crew Chief: They obviously knew how to work the box, but I like the way they zapped the bipper to the D-5 Station.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: How does one learn how to do that?
Vericom Crew Chief: Get a job with Vericom.
Dino Ciampa: Okay.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Thank you.
[the crew chief walks away]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Let's subpoena work logs, employee records. Start with everyone who lives in the Town.
Dino Ciampa: Got it.
[Dino shows Frawley a file on Desmond Elden]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Desmond Elden?
Dino Ciampa: Yeah. Works at Vericom. Never seen the inside of a jail cell. Now, most of these guys get no-show jobs. They take the armored truck, foreman goes, "Yeah, guy was here yesterday," and shows us a forged time card. But they can't play them games at Vericom 'cause it's a public company. If you don't show up it's a recorded sick day. And 'Dezzy' here has some interesting sick days: Bank Boston. Cummins Armored. Arlington Brinks. Cambridge Merchants.
[He hands surveillance stills to Frawley, who sits down at his desk and looks at them]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Jesus Christ.
Albert 'Gloansy' Magloan: [before the men put on their nun facial masks on their way to the armored car robbery] Say your prayers. Here we go...
[as the bank robbery progresses, Desmond realizes that someone has pulled the silent alarm]
Desmond Elden: Hold it!
[touches his ear]
Desmond Elden: Silent alarm, this address.
James Coughlin: Who did it?
Assistant Bank Manager: Look, nobody did anything.
James Coughlin: What?'! Huh?'! What'd you say?
Assistant Bank Manager: Nobody did anything.
James Coughlin: You pull the alarm?
Assistant Bank Manager: No. No!
James Coughlin: Did you?
Assistant Bank Manager: I didn't pull any alarm!
James Coughlin: You're lying you motherfucker!
[he starts pistol-whipping the bank manager with his rifle, but Doug stops him]
Doug MacRay: Easy. Easy. That's enough.
[Claire looks up and sees the tattoo that is on Jem's neck just below his mask]
[Dino and Frawley observe the scene of the Cambridge Merchants robbery]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: So, what's up?
Dino Ciampa: Boosted a city work van. Still hasn't been reported stolen.
[They examine the van used for cover]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Probably too busy working.
Dino Ciampa: Used the van to screen the door. Bleached the entire place with DNA. Kills all the clothing fibers so we can't get a match. Silent bell came from cage number two. Assistant Manager's at Beth Israel. Our guys waited for the time lock to expire, then they had the manager open sesame.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Under duress?
Dino Ciampa: I don't know.
[They take a look at the open vault]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Ten foot steel safe, only as strong as the guy with the key.
[He eyes the dye packs]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Found the dye pack and the tracers.
[Frawley's BlackBerry goes off. He looks at the message]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Found the van. Torched.
Dino Ciampa: Where is it?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Where do you think?
[cuts to an overhead shot of firefighters hosing down the van Doug's crew had used; Frawley and Dino arrive at the scene]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Nice to be back home, Dino?
Dino Ciampa: Yeah. It's all the love I get that makes the homecoming feel so warm. Fifty people here; eyewitness sees these guys. You'll get fifty hands on a Bible, say they never saw nothing.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: It's a pro job. All the pro guys I know are away, so... I guess we have new pro guys. The part of the job where we get to do something that has no point and yields no results.
[calls out to the crowd]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Excuse me! Did anybody see who lit this van on fire?
[Doug has followed Claire into the laundromat. He sits down close to where she's doing her laundry, pretending to be reading]
Claire Keesey: Uh... excuse me? Are... are you doing laundry?
Doug MacRay: Huh?
Claire Keesey: Just uh... just wandered if you had any change? The machine is out.
Doug MacRay: Can't help you. Sorry.
Claire Keesey: I can just uh... hang them up when I get home.
Claire Keesey: So what do you do for work?
Doug MacRay: Boston Sanding Gravel, I break rocks. Punch the ticket at the end of the day, slide down the back of a brontosaurus like Fred Flintstone, call it a night.
[Frawley is describing to Claire how he knows where the bank robbers who kidnapped her probably came from]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: With guys like this - hardcore guys - 90% of them eminate from a one square mile neighborhood called Charlestown. Familiar with it?
[Claire looks at a map and realizes that it's the neighborhood she lives in]
Claire Keesey: You must be kidding me!
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Dino, what's the first thing BPD does whenever there's an armored car robbery in the city?
Dino Ciampa: Close the Charlestown Bridge.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: He's from Charlestown.
Dino Ciampa: They make it over, they use each other's houses. They're like rats.
[after the initial shootout that kills Gloansy and Dez]
Police Captain: I don't know if we're dealing with some kind of a fucking genius here, but security... Security is saying they got hit by cops.
Dino Ciampa: Cops?
Police Captain: Yeah. Two cops, they said.
[Frawley starts looking around, scanning uniformed cops]
[Gloansy turns off the surveillance monitors just as Doug and Jem, disguised as police officers, enter the tunnel near the cash room]
Doug MacRay: Who called 911?
James Coughlin: Did you guys call 911?
First Security Guard: No one from here called.
Young Security Guard: No we didn't uh... it wasn't us.
Doug MacRay: Who dialed a 911 call?
James Coughlin: It's a robbery guys, come on!
Young Security Guard: You said a robbery?
Doug MacRay: Yeah. A call sayin' you're being held up.
Young Security Guard: Oh, let... let me call Mike.
Doug MacRay: We just walked passed Mike. He let us in.
James Coughlin: Hey, look guys we got a distress call. All right. So, who made the call?
First Security Guard: Nobody called from here.
James Coughlin: [looks at Doug like they got sent here by mistake] So... no one called. What are we doing here?
First Security Guard: Hold on. Where's Mike?
Doug MacRay: I just told you where Mike was!
Young Security Guard: You boys see all right? With the uh...
[nods to the dark sunglasses that both Doug and Jem are wearing]
Doug MacRay: Huh? Listen, you fuckin' smart ass!
James Coughlin: For our safety, for everyone's safety here we need to see your ID's. All right?
Second Security Guard: Guys... guys, hold up. We've been here all mornin'. Take it easy.
Doug MacRay: My partner asked for your ID. All right. We don't know you. Until we identify all the parties involved here, we're gonna need some ID's and we're gonna need to see everyone on the ground. Right now.
[one of guards pulls the sidearm from his holster]
Doug MacRay: Whoa! Whoa!
Second Security Guard: Hey, hey! Relax.
[Doug and Jem pull out their guns and force the guards to lie on their stomachs, and quickly bind their hands behind their backs]
Claire Keesey: I lied to the FBI.
Doug MacRay: What?
Claire Keesey: When the guy attacked David, I could see the back of his neck and he had a tattoo.
Doug MacRay: Of what?
Claire Keesey: It was one of those fighting Irish tatoos. I'm afraid if I report it they'll make me testify. What do you think I should do?
Doug MacRay: You tell the FBI. If the guy's got a record, and I'm sure he does, they'll have his tattoos on file. They'll ring him up the next day. Robbery, weapons, he'll get thirty years. Of course he'll worry someone's gonna come looking for the witness. FBI will probabaly want to put you in a WitSec, you know, witness security. You know, he'll probably put you somewhere, like you know in uh... Cleveland or Arizona. You know, somewhere safe. Or... you could wait. You have a card, there's nothin' says you gotta play it right away. You're the one who's vulnerable in this situation right now. The FBI are just people, like anyone else who want to find the bad guy so that they can go home and do their supper. You have to look out for yourself, Claire.
Claire Keesey: Quite an expert.
Doug MacRay: Not really. Just watch a lot of TV. I watch a lot of CSI. So I'm a really big expert on all this. I know. And Miami CSI and New York CSI. All the... all of them I have watched.
[Claire starts to laugh]
Claire Keesey: You're well prepared.
Doug MacRay: And Bones.
[Doug and Jem break into the apartment of Alex Colazzo and attack him]
James Coughlin: What did you do? Huh?
Alex Colazzo: I don't know what you're talking about.
James Coughlin: That's my brother right there. What did you do to get him so cranked up, huh?
Alex Colazzo: I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.
James Coughlin: You don't know?
Alex Colazzo: No!
[Jem takes out his gun and points it at Colazzo's head]
James Coughlin: How about now?
Alex Colazzo: Chill. Chill. Chill.
James Coughlin: Now you know?
Alex Colazzo: Chill...
James Coughlin: Hey, don't fucking tell me to chill!
Doug MacRay: [to Coughlin] That's enough.
James Coughlin: What did you do?
Alex Colazzo: I don't know that the fuck you're talking about.
James Coughlin: No?
[he shoots Colazzo in both legs. Colazzo starts screaming in pain]
James Coughlin: There goes college soccer! Hey, look at me.
[pulls off his mask]
James Coughlin: See my face? You tell the cops, all right. But just remember, I've seen yours too.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: I didn't realize you left your job at the bank.
Claire Keesey: Uh... oh yeah. Yeah. Last week. I'm sorry, was I supposed to notify someone?
[Frawley shakes his head, and picks up the box with the necklace that Doug gave to Claire]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Fancy.
Claire Keesey: Yeah. It was a gift.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: We have our suspects. I came by to share this with you.
[takes several photos from the envelope he's holding]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: James Coughlin. Albert Magloan. Desmond Elden. Part of the crew that we tied into the bank job at North End and at least three other armed car robberies.
[He shows her the next photo, which is a mug shot of Doug]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Look familiar? You opened the safe for him. He left you unharmed. And now the two of you are carrying on a relationship about which you lied to the FBI. I was wrong, you do need a lawyer.
Doug MacRay: Hey, next time you guys wanna take pictures of me, just call ahead. You know, we can do better than a barbecue. A calender shoot... you know, maybe topless, lubed up. Whatever you guys are into. The FBI car antenna's are half inch mat black about three quarters way down the rear windshield. Statie a pigtail, BPD half and half. Every pewee in town knows what an FBI rear antenna looks like. So in the future you guys need try to be slick, be slicker than a six year old. I gotta get back to work. Can I go?
[he gets up to leave the interrogation room]
Doug MacRay: Good luck with that print.
Claire Keesey: [getting out of Doug's truck] Do we uh... do we know each other well enough for me to say that this truck is a little much?
Doug MacRay: [laughs] It's my work truck. If you have problems with your Prius, I could always throw it in the back.
Claire Keesey: Now, how did you know I had Prius?
Doug MacRay: Ah... I took a guess. I'd... you... I mean it just seems like a 'tunie' car. Why? You really have a Prius?
Claire Keesey: Yeah.
Doug MacRay: Really!
Claire Keesey: I had a Prius. It got vandalized.
Doug MacRay: What happened?
Claire Keesey: I don't know. I'm forced to walk a mile through the projects. There were these guys and they started you know...
Doug MacRay: What?
Claire Keesey: I'm not sure if this is the same guys who trashed my car, but...
Doug MacRay: The guys, what?
Claire Keesey: They started getting... you know it started with yelling when I walked by. And then they got really aggressive and...
Doug MacRay: Well, what were they doing?
Claire Keesey: Once glass bottles started getting thrown I started coming to terms with not being cool enough to walk through the projects.
Doug MacRay: They threw bottles at you?
Claire Keesey: I... I'm fine. I just have to, you know, go the long way. It doesn't matter.
Doug MacRay: No. Just have to leave with it I guess. Do you remember what they looked like?
[Krista has been hospitalized after a car accident. Frawley approaches her]
Krista Coughlin: There he is. Mr. Six Inches.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: What happened?
Krista Coughlin: You're a crime stopper, figure it the fuck out.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Sweetheart, I know you have oxycodone, cocaine and alcohol in your system. I know that you have five cars registered in your name and I know right now your daughter is sitting in the back of a state van, being driven by a stranger to the Department of Social Services. So, how long do you wanna do this?
Krista Coughlin: I'm a person, you know?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Yeah, you're a person who's gonna need a plea agreement if you ever wanna see your kid again.
Krista Coughlin: Why is it always I'm the one who's gettin' used?
[after seeing Coughlin die, Doug - still wearing his BPD uniform - hops into one BPD cruiser parked nearby with its engine running. He closes the door and drives off. He parks in front of Fergie's shop, and enters, caught by a surveillance camera]
Doug MacRay: Rusty, something went wrong. Come here.
[Doug puts a gun to Rusty's head and pulls the trigger, killing him instantly. The bullet passes right through Rusty's head]
Doug MacRay: Fergie!
[Fergie comes out from behind a curtain]
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: Prick!
[They start shooting at one another. We see most of the action through a surveillance tape that only shows Fergie, but not Doug. One shot from Doug's Glock 17 causes Fergie to collapse to the ground. Doug walks over to him and puts his gun in the florist's crotch]
Doug MacRay: Fergie, remember who clipped your nuts for you.
[Scene cuts to black with the sound of a gunshot]
Doug MacRay: [knocks on the cash room door] In the cash room. Arnold Washton! You live at 311 Hazer Street in Quincy, with a wife named Linda and three small dogs. Do not make a distress call. Also in the cash room, Morton Previt. You live at 27 Counting Lane, Randolph. Wife also Linda. Morton, the Lindas want you to open this door. We have men outside your homes.
[the door is opened]
[Doug picks up Claire, who gets in his truck]
Doug MacRay: I should have come get your door for you, huh? What kinda guy lets you open the door... what?
Claire Keesey: I... I have to get something out there. Otherwise I'll be pretending to listen to you all night when really I'm thinking about something else.
Doug MacRay: Okay.
Claire Keesey: A few days a go my bank was robbed. Four men took over and opened the safe. They took me as a hostage. Uh... they blind folded me and drove me around. And then they stopped and let me out over at the beach and... and one of the guys told me to walk until I felt the water on my toes. It's the longest walk of my life, I kept thinking I'd step off a cliff. And... and then I felt the water.
Doug MacRay: I'm sorry.
Claire Keesey: It's not your fault.
[Frawley interviews Claire after the robbery]
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: I understand they threatened you?
Claire Keesey: Uhmm. One of them took my licence.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Did you try and escape at any point?
Claire Keesey: No.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: Is there anything you identify about these men? Anything you can testify to?
Claire Keesey: I didn't try to escape because they had guns.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: I understand. Then they just let you go?
Claire Keesey: Yeah. They just let me go. Should I have a lawyer here?
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: This is a very civil libertarian thing for me to say, but anyone who lawyer's up is guilty. I think you're all right.
FBI S.A. Adam Frawley: [to his team] Where are they? What are they doing right now? They got the money, now they have to clean it. Casino's, tracks, maybe they make a big drug buy, flip it across town. They wanna go celebrate, right? V.P.D, D.E.A. I want chips, names, witnesses. Anything. We're gonna knock on some doors see who wants to help us out. Any questions? No. Great. Let's go.
[Doug walks into an AA meeting and a speaker is sharing his story]
Eskimo Story Speaker: The loss, you know what I mean? The... the disappointment in yourself. The anger that turns into disappointment. The despair. Like the guy who's sittin' at the bar and a priest walks in, pulls up chair. The guy says, "Wait a minute." He says, "I hate to tell you this, don't waste you're time, but I happen to know there's no God." The priest says, "Yeah, how's that?" The guy says... uh, "I am an explorer in the north pole. I've been caught in a blindin' storm once. Freezing. I was blinded, freezing to death and I prayed, if there is a God, save me now. Now God didn't come." The priest says... you know, "How's that?" He says, "You're alive. He must have saved you." He said, "No. God never showed up. An Eskimo came along. Took me back to his camp and saved me." That's Janice. She's my wife and she's sittin' right there. She's my Eskimo.
[Doug, Coughlin, and Gloansy make a second pass around the block while waiting for the armored car to show up. As they are reaching the bank, they see the armored car pulling up]
Albert 'Gloansy' Magloan: Say your prayers. Here we go. Here we go...
[Doug and Coughlin put on rubber masks with nuns' faces, complete with veils. In slow motion, a young boy on the sidewalk sees Doug, in disguise, holding an assault rifle with the stock up. He stares, petrified. In real time, Gloansy speeds up, runs a stop sign, and makes a hard right hand turn, screeching to a halt. Doug and Coughlin jump out of the backseat. Doug pistol-whips the guard unloading the coal bag, while Coughlin jumps into the back of the truck]
James Coughlin: Don't move!
[He pistol-whips the guard in the back. The driver, petrified, can't do anything. Outside, Doug shoves the coal bag, which comes to a rest against their van's trunk, while Coughlin loads money into his duffel bags. Doug holds his gun as bystanders begin to flee the area. Gloansy, sitting in the driver's seat, hears something on his police scanner]
Police Dispatcher: ...All units in the area, 261 in progress...
[Gloansy turns to address Doug and Coughlin]
Albert 'Gloansy' Magloan: The call went out!
[Inside the truck, Coughlin looks up, and sees that the driver has left his seat]
Beacon G.I. Joe Driver: Get out here asshole! I got your friend!
[Coughlin turns and sees that the driver is holding a gun to Doug's back. He immediately draws his own assault rifle]
Doug MacRay: Calm down. Put your gun away, you're gonna get hurt.
James Coughlin: Put that fucking gun down now!
Beacon G.I. Joe Driver: My God, you are the...
[Coughlin shoots the guard in the chest - seriously wounding him, and barely missing Doug]
Doug MacRay: Geez!
[Coughlin jumps out of the truck and stands over the unconscious guard]
James Coughlin: Should've stayed in the truck!
[He and Doug get back in the van]
Doug MacRay: Don't get up... How you doing Fergie? Listen, uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you myself. Whatever this thing is you got going on, uh, I think my guys can handle it without me.
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: I wouldn't hire them without you. And I wouldn't hire you without them. You're a unit.
Doug MacRay: Look, with all due respect, I didn't come here for a debate. I'm not doing it so, you know, work it out however you can and I...
[reaches for his pocket]
Doug MacRay: ... Calm down. It goes against my better judgment, but just out of respect, smooth things over, take this Ferg.
[Lays money on the table]
Doug MacRay: Alright?
Fergus 'Fergie' Colm: Not gonna cut it. Do you think I'm gonna put your flipper head on this? You're going to do what I ask.
Doug MacRay: Alright. Ok. Let me ask you something: Who the fuck you think you are? The only guy in Charlestown with a gun? You guys run numbers and pump dope. You're an old guy with a fucked up face so all those glory years are behind you. I ain't fucking working for you. Got it? If you got a problem with that, I live at 551 Bunker Hill st. Stop by any time. You know where to find me.