Hulu original film The Town was released September 17th, 2010.
#TheTown cleared $154M at the international box office.
rottentomatotes: 92%
metacritic: 74
imdb: 7.5
oscars: 1 nomination
golden globes: 1 nomination
SAG awards: 1 nomination
Doug MacRay
Doug MacRay and his crew knock over Fenway Park for $80M in Charlestown, Massachusetts.
“Driver’s name is Arthur Shea. Former Medford police officer. 57 years old. Soon as his partner leaves with the coal bag, Artie cracks the ‘Herald,’ and he don’t look up till the guy gets back. Marty MacGuire, Cummins armored courier. 5’10”, 220, 52 years old. Picks up every Wednesday and Friday at exactly 8:12. Makes $110 a day. Carries a Sig 9… and he’s about to get robbed. 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 moving. No one needs to get hurt. Let’s go.” — Doug MacRay
“Give me the fuckin’ key! Back up, back up! Go, go! Move! Go, go, go, go! Let’s go! Let’s move! Get the cash drawers! Let’s go! Come on. Bank manager, let’s go. Get up. Let’s go. Get up, come on, get up! LEt’s go. Not you. You. Get up. Let’s go. Come on. When’s the time lock set for? Don’t lie to us, it’s 8:15. Listen, it’s not your money. You understand? Don’t lie to us again. Go. Go.” — Doug MacRay
“No distress call. Open it clean. Don’t stall. Take your time, okay? Breathe. Go.” — Doug MacRay
“We gotta go. Let’s go! Let’s bleach it up. We gotta go. Hold it. Silent alarm. This address. Easy, easy. That’s enough. Fuck! Let’s go.” — Doug MacRay
“What the fuck is this? Take the big boulevard. You’re gonna be okay. All right? No one’s gonna hurt you.” — Doug MacRay
“Where’s Jem? No, we’re not takin’ hostages now. For one thing– you made it. Take the scenic route? What? She didn’t see anything. Takin’ her for a ride didn’t help. She’s already scared.” — Doug MacRay
“I’ll do it. ‘Cause you’re the reason we’re having this conversation. What are you gonna get done? Huh? You’re gonna get picked up for intimidating a witness. You walk within 100 feet of her, that’s 10 years. Okay? You got two strikes against you already. They’re gonna bury you under the fucking jail. Hey, Jem, what happened with the assistant manager?” — Doug MacRay
“What up? What’s going on, guys? What’s up? Ooh. I’m gonna get a tonic, I guess. Thanks. Yeah. Juice. Hey, don’t fuckin’– what are you doing? Not in my drink. Heard you got in a fight, Kris. I don’t know, let me see. You pull your hoop out? You were with Shyne? Fuckin’ coke and oxy and all that shit? Yeah, I miss it.” — Doug MacRay
“Yeah. Ahh. How ya doin’? Huh? Can’t help ya. Sorry. You all right? Are you sure? You okay? You sure? No, you got nothin’ to be embarrassed for. Do you need help? I understand. I like to have a good cry at the nail salon. Just open right up to the ladies. They’re very understanding. But, uh, you know, you like the laundromat, so that’s fine. Hey, why don’t you let me buy you a drink? Make up for lettin’ you down with the quarters, I’ll, uh– you know, see if we can turn your week around. What’s the worst that could happen.” — Doug MacRay
“There she is. All set? Yeah. I should-a come get your door for ya, huh? What kind of a guy lets you open your own door like that? What? Okay. Oh… I’m sorry. FBI? You’re working with the FBI? What does that mean? A guy comes by, checks in on you, gives you a call, like that? Like… they don’t have any suspects? Any clues? Any leads? Anything like that? Shit. I don’t know, might be harder than you think.” — Doug MacRay
“Boston Sand and Gravel. I break rocks. Punch a ticket at the end of the day, slide down the back of a Brontosaurus like Fred Flinstone. Call if a night. You sure can. Oh, yeah? I know, it’s embarrassing. City won’t put any money into that place. It just means a yuppie. Someone who’s not from Charlestown, that’s all. They’re just bein’ punks.” — Doug MacRay
“Oh, shit. All right. Sox got rocked. What’s goin’ on? What? Yeah. Nothin’. It’s a dead end. We’re all set. What? What are you, a triggerman now? You’re gonna get the fuckin’ electric chair brought back over to Charlestown. We’re fine. All right? We’re fine.” — Doug MacRay
“What? Of what? 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 30 years. Course, they’ll worry someone’s gonna come lookin’ for the witness. The FBI’ll probably want to put you in witsec, you know, witness security. You know, they’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. They wanna find a bad guy so they can go home and nuke their supper. You have to look out for yourself, Claire. 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 ’em, I watch. And ‘Bones.'” — Doug MacRay
“Ha. It’s my work truck. If you have problems with your Prius, I can always throw it in the back. Ah, took a guess. You– I mean, it just seemed like a-a toonie car. Why, do you really have a Prius? Really? What happened? What? What do you mean? What? Guys, what? Doin’– what were they doin’? They threw bottles at you? Yeah. No, you just have to live with it, I guess. You remember what they look like?” — Doug MacRay
“I need you help. I can’t tell you what it is, you can never asked me about it later, and we’re gonna hurt some people. Townie credit card. Open up. Oh, shit, that hurts, huh? Is that your throwin’ hand? If you’re still here in a week, we’re comin’ back. Let’s go, we’re done. That’s enough.” — Doug MacRay
“I can’t be up there killin’ people, man.” — Doug MacRay
“Uh, no, my father, uh… finally made it out to the suburbs. I couldn’t tell ya. She left when I was 6. She left. This sound woke me up. Uh, at first I didn’t know what it was. Sounded like an animal that got trapped. I never heard a man cry before. Came downstairs in my underwear. I see my father in the kitchen. The first thing I remember was the ashtray. Must-a been 100 cigarettes. Ash like a little mountain. He stopped cryin’. He was just sittin’ there watchin’ TV on a little black-and-white. No sound. I think he just didn’t know what else to do. He looked at me standin’ there in the doorway in my underoos. He said, ‘your mother left. She’s not comin’ back.’ Just like that. Smokin’ cigarettes and eatin’ a TV dinner at 6:00 in the morning. We lost our dog the year before and, uh… I wanted to make these posters… in case my mother was lost, someone could call us, like the guy who found our dog. Ahem. To this day my father will tell you he helped me make them posters, but he didn’t. He sat in the kitchen while I went out by myself on School Street, askin’ people if they’d seen my mother. Her name was Doris. My grandmother had a place that’s a restaurant in Tangerine, Florida. So I used to imagine maybe that’s where she went. Then I came to terms with the fact that… doesn’t really matter, you know? Wherever she went, she had a good reason to leave here. She didn’t wanna be my mother anymore… and she– –she wasn’t coming back. And now you know a little bit about my family, but I’m still not showin’ you my apartment.” — Doug MacRay
“Oh, yeah? All good, I hope. Oh, yeah. They say, uh, they’re overcome with jealousy. They just– they can’t believe your luck. You moved to Charlestown, hooked up with a-a rock-breakin’ townie. Hmm. What? Why do you look like that? When was this? No. I’m sure he’d be glad you’re thinkin’ about him. It’s a good day. I’m havin’ a good time.” — Doug MacRay
“Nothin’. No one. By myself. Let’s get outta here. Yeah. Let’s hit the road. I gotta go. A truck. Yeah. All right, brother. Take care of yourself, all right? Be good. Yeah…” — Doug MacRay
“Who you following, Jem? Me or her? Ya got nothin’ to worry about. It’s all under control. Yeah, I’m tryin’ to get you jammed up. Calm down, all right? Don’t you think we need to be smart right now? Yeah. I told you, the next fuckin’ thing’s not ready yet. I don’t like the guards on the next thing, all right? One kid is like fuckin’ GI Joe. He wears the vest on the outside, tucks his pants into his fuckin’ combat boots. We’ll find another truck with a driver who’s a fuckin’ fat kid with his fuckin’ shit untucked who don’t think he’s special forces. This is the last one. We’re hittin’ pause after this. We get pinched, remember whose idea this was, okay? Be ready on friday.” — Doug MacRay
“Stephen MacRay. You all right? I mean, every time I come up here now, it’s the red, uh, pajamas. You still gettin’ in trouble, Dad? Uh, you’re gettin’ a little old for that bullshit though, aren’t ya? Listen, you put a year together of good behavior, and get your points down, you get classed out over to Norfolk, Dad. No one’s gonna bother you over there. Nobody fights. You know what I mean? They got fuckin’ Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and shit. All right. I’m thinkin’ about, um… takin’ a trip. Goin’ dark for a minute. Nah, just makin’ a change. Oh, yeah? I didn’t hear about it. Let me ask you somethin’… in case I don’t see you again. How come you never, um… how come you never looked for her? For Ma. For my mother. How come you never looked for her? How come you never tried to call nobody or look for her, or ask around, you know?” — Doug MacRay
“Are you sure it was me? Oh, yeah. The Boys and Girls Club? Yeah. They got a real low standard for who, uh, qualifies on there. Yeah. I was, uh, I was slow. And I couldn’t skate backwards. That’s– you’re supposed to be able to skate backwards in pro hockey. But I could shoot, you know? I could hit anything with a hockey puck. But I got drafted, and I just didn’t do what it took to make the team. And when I got a second chance, I blew that, too. So… they sent me home, and that was it. I look at that picture and I see a 20-year-old kid who thinks he’s, you know, got it all figured out. Right before he’s about to throw it all away. Hey, I don’t want to rush anything but can we go into your room? ‘Cause my uncle the bus driver lives right across the way and he can see right into this apartment. Okay.” — Doug MacRay
“Where the fuck’s the truck? Late is what happened. Here we go. Gun! Fuck. All right. Calm down. Put your gun away, all right? You’re gonna get hurt. You should have stayed in the truck, ****. Let’s go! God damn it, I fuckin’ told you! Fuckin’ knew it. God damn it! All right, drive. Just take it easy, all right? Take it easy. Drive slow. Drive normal. Shit. Fuck. Hit the engine block! Go, go, go, go, go! Let’s go, let’s go! Duck! Get down now! Let’s go!” — Doug MacRay
“Thanks. Oh. How you doin’? Local crime fighter. What’s happenin’, Dino? Yeah. Me, too. Yeah, one or two. Let me ask you a question. What do you call a guy who grows up with a group of people and gets to know all their intimate secrets and stories of their lives ’cause they trust him, and then turns around and uses those secrets against them and put those people in prison? You’d call him a rat, right? You know what I call him? Dingo the Dango. Those people made you part of their community. What did they get for it? Inside of the fuckin’ can. Hey, next time you guys wanna take a picture of me, just call ahead. You know, we could do better than a barbeque. A calendar shoot. You know? Maybe topless, lubed up. Whatever you guys are into. FBI car antennas are 1/2 inch matte black, about 3/4 of the way down the rear windshield. Statie are pigtailed, BPD, half and half. Every peewee in the town knows what an FBI rear antenna looks like. So, in the future, if you guys are gonna try to be slick, be slicker than a 6-year-old. I gotta get back to work. Can I go? Good luck with that print.” — Doug MacRay
Claire Keesey
“9:00. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Mm-hmm. One of them took my license. No. I didn’t try to escape because they had guns. Yeah. They just let me go. Should I have a lawyer here? Okay. Yeah… ‘if you talk to the FBI, we’ll come to you house and fuck you and kill you.'”
“Uh, excuse me? Are you doing laundry? Just, uh… I just wondered if you had any change. The machine is out. Okay. I can just, uh, hang ’em up when I get home. I’m fine. I’m just– mm-hmm. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine, thank you. I’m fine. Yeah. Well, this is embarrassing. Mm-hmm. Just having a bad week.”
“Hey. Yes. I-I have to get something out there. Oth-otherwise, I’ll be pretending to listen to you all night when really I’m thinking about something else. Uh, a few days ago my bank was robbed. Four men took it over and opened the safe. They took me as a hostage. Uh, they blindfolded 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– to walk until I felt the water on my toes. It was the longest walk of my life. I kept thinking I’d step off a cliff. And… and then I felt the water. It’s not your fault. Anyway, the FBI guy told me it would feel like I was in mourning. Mm-hmm. Pretty much. I don’t know. Not that they’ve told me. He intimated that they were scouring Charlestown, but they were wearing masks, so… mm-hmm. I’m sure I’d recognize their voices if I heard them again.”
“So, what do you do for work? Hey, can I ask you something? I volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club in Charlestown and– yeah. And, well, mostly as a kickball pitcher since they haven’t been able to afford any ice for the rink. Yeah, I know. Some of the kids were calling me a-a ‘toonie.’ Oh. of course it does.”
“I lied to the FBI. When the guy attacked David, I could see the back of his neck and he had a tattoo. It was one of those fighting Irish tattoos. I’m afraid fi I report it, they’ll make me testify. What do you think I should do? Quite an expert. You’ll be well-prepared.”
“Do we, uh, do we know each other well enough for me t say that this truck is a little much? How did you you know I had a Prius? Yeah. I had a Prius. It got vandalized, so, of course… now I’m forced to walk a mile through the projects. There were these guys and they started, you know… I’m not sure if it was the same guys who trashed my car, but– they started getting, you know, it started with yelling when I walked by, and then it got really aggressive and… once glass bottles started getting thrown, I started coming to terms with not being cool enough to walk through the projects. It’s not– I’m– I’m fine. I just have to, you know, go the long way. That’s all. It doesn’t matter.”
“So do your parents still live in Charlestown? What about your mother? What happened? Oh… okay. Come– how bad can it be?”
“So I’ve been telling all my friends about you. Yeah. Yeah. No. They just– they just think it’s a-a rebound. A rebound from what, the robbery? Uh-uh. I feel estranged from them somehow. My brother died on a day like this. He was little. He had lymphoma. So now on really sunny days, I always think of someone dying. That’s wrong, isn’t it? Good. Then you’ll miss me while I’m gone.”
“Hi. Claire. Jim? Nice to meet you. The Avalanche? So have you two known each other a long time or… did you say your name was ‘Jim’ or ‘Jem?’ Oh, I work at a bank. I’m a bank manager. Uh, Cambridge Merchants. Just– just over there. It got robbed, yeah. Um… we met at a laundromat. You, too. Well, I guess you haven’t been telling all your friends about me.”
“So I saw your picture yesterday. Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Yeah. It was under a ‘local heroes’ banner. Apparently, you were drafted. Yes.”
James Coughlin
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role
1 nomination: 2010
Best Supporting Actor – Motion Picture
1 nomination: 2010
Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role
1 nomination: 2010
“Now, these guards like to test you, though. They want to get hurt for $10 an hour, don’t get in the way.”
“All right, now get away from the counter! Go, go, go! Everybody away! Up against the wall! You! Away from the computer! On the floor! Blackberrys to the front! Slide your fucking phones up. What the fuck you lookin’ at? Hey! Let’s go! Take off your shoes. Get over here. This guy a fuckin’ friend of yours? Let’s go! Get back! Get out of the way. Front door. Front door!”
“Let’s bleach it up! Who did it? What? Huh? What’d you say? You pull the alarm? Did you? We were leaving, you motherfucker! You fucker. We were out the door, you fuck. Where’s your purse?”
“The cops get us walled in, we’re gonna need her. Sit down. Go.”
“We got a problem. Well, look. Fuck. Yeah, I know where we are, Gloans. Fuck! Yeah. Fuck. All right. I’m gonna handle it. I’m gonna stalk her like a fuckin’ ‘A’ car and we’ll find out. If she needs to get scared. Well, maybe not scared enough.”
“Why are you gonna do it? Yeah, but I’m gonna get it done. Right. We got 90 a pop. Minus what I had to shave off for the florist. Uh, yeah. Well, next time Skeletor comes in the bank with a– an AK, I think he’s gonna think twice about hittin’ that alarm, isn’t he? He’s lucky he just got tuned up.”
“Hey, Rusty. How you doin’? All right, man. Hey, Fergie. Here you go. All right. You run that under the sink, all right? All right. Good to see you. Take it easy, man. Good to see you.”
“Hey, there he is. Go on, tell– tell– tell the story. ‘Fuckin’ suck a dick.’ Yeah, well, here’s to Big Mac. That’s right. Last crew in Charlestown. All right. And get me an umbrella for my beer. Poor fuckin’ sober bastard.”
“Ahem. Hey, B. Can I have a beer? Thanks. What up? How you doin’? You, uh, check on that thing? The license. And? Oh. So no need to remove her from the equation? You heard me. Just loose ends, kid. Don’t be so goddamned panicked, all right, Dig Dug? Just, you know, I don’t wanna get backdoored, that’s all. All right. Okay. We’re fine.”
“Whose car are we gonna take? Yeah. Hey. What’d you do? Huh? That’s my brother right there. What’d you do to get him so cranked up, huh? You don’t know? How ’bout now? Now do you know? Hey, don’t fuckin’ tell me to chill. What’d you do?! No? Huh? There goes college soccer. Hey, look at me. See my face? Go tell the cops, all right? But just remember… I seen yours, too.”
“Hey, you brought me.”
“Money, bitch. Pop! What the fuck you doin’ here? Huh? ‘Nothin’?’ What’s this? Who’re you here with, huh? You’re telling me this is yours? Yeah? Fuckin’ Hawaiian pizza? Come on, sit down. I just got here. Sit– sit the fuck down. Just sit down.”
“Hi. Hey. Jem. Jem. It’s just Jem, yeah. I’m a friend of this– this loser right here. Well, sit down– sit down relax. All right? Ahem. So I saw your, uh… fucking Avalanche parked around the corner, so… fucking truck. His work truck right there. Duggy’s quite the worker. Since we were six. We’re like brothers. Right? But he’s never mentioned a word about you. The secrets with this one, though, huh? Ah… it’s Ji–Je– well, it’s both, actually. Um, teachers, when we were growin’ up, you know, they used to always say, ‘hey, you can have this one. He’s a real gem.’ So I guess it kinda stuck. Whatever, huh? So, what do you do for yourself there, Claire? You’re a bank manager? Sounds fun. What bank? Cambridge Merchants. That– wait… that’s the one that just got robbed, isn’t it? Yeah, yeah. Wow. Yeah, I read about that. It’s crazy. Huh. So then how is it that– that you two met? Okay. Love among the bleach, right? Hey, it happens more than you think. Uh… hey, Claire, don’t get too used to your life of leisure here. Duggy here, he’s– he’s a– he’s a real workaholic, you know. He’s always takin’ his work home with him. Don’t you? All right. Uh-huh. I’ll see you at home. Hey, it was nice to meet you.”
“I told ya, I made the Avalanche. Oh, so you’re tryin’ to get us jammed up? Is that it? Tell me you got a move here, Duggy. ‘Cause the only way I see it… is you got sprung like a goddamn bear trap on some toonie ***** who happens to be the one goddamn person– fuck! The one person that can give us to the fuckin’ feds. Smart?! Let’s start fuckin’ all the witnesses. All right? Yeah, I’m blowin’ the assistant manager. Am I smart now? Huh? And no, I didn’t tell the other guys, only ’cause they’d flip the fuck out. And I want ’em fuckin’ ready for the next thing. Then fuckin’ make it ready. The truck’s fuckin’ waist-high. Oh, yeah? All right, I know you’re 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 waitin’.”
“What happened to 8:45? Don’t move! Jesus! Down! What the fuck just happened? Fuckin’ shut the fuck up, all right?! Ah, fuck! They must have been around the corner. Go to the fuckin’ switch!”
Special Agent Adam Frawley
“What’s up? Heh. Probably too busy workin’. Under duress? 10-foot steel safe. Only as strong as the guy with the key. Found the dye packs and the tracers. Found the van. Torched. Where do you think?”
“Thanks, Kathy. Ms. Keesey. Special Agent Adam Frawley, violent crimes and robbery. Derek here is gonna take some elimination prints. I see you’ve given a preliminary statement. I want to talk to you about your abduction. I understand they threatened you. Did you try to escape at any point? Is there anything you can identify about these men? Anything you’d testify to? I understand. Then they just let you go? This isn’t a very civil libertarian thing of me to say, but anyone who lawyers up is guilty. I think you’re all right. When someone endures an experience like this, there are very often residual effects. It’s gonna be okay. Did they say anything?”
“Where are they? What are they doing right now? They got the money, now they have to clean it. Casinos. Tracks. Maybe they make a big drug buy, flip it across town. They want to go celebrate, right? BPD, DEA, I want tips, names, witnesses, anything. We’re gonna knock on some doors, see who wants to help us out. Any questions? No? Great. Let’s go.”
“FBI! Open the door! Open the door! Jesus Christ, Henry. Oxy, guns? It’s like Townie Christmas. Minimum federal sentencing, 10 years. You’re gonna need a friend. And she ain’t it. Great girl, though. She really loves you, I can tell. Good news for you is you have an alibi for the Cambridge job. The good news for me is I bet you know somethin’ about it. Yeah?”
“How does one learn how to do that? Okay. Thank you. All right. Let’s subpoena work logs, employee records. Start with everybody who lives in the Town.”
“Desmond Elden? Jesus Christ.”
“Mr. Magloan never met a car he couldn’t boost. The kind of talented individual that can start your Cherokee for you while you’re still looking for your keys. The guys plan and execute with sophistication and discipline. And that is not our boy Coughlin. We think the architect is this guy– Coughlin’s best friend, Doug MacRay. Mac senior got life for the Nashua job, which most of you should remember. Hijacked a bread truck up to New Hampshire, one of the guards saw his face, so they executed both of them with their own weapons. Big Mac’s legacy is now no ‘A’ car driver is allowed to leave the cab even if there’s a gun to his partner’s head. MacRay came home, got into the family business. Same song, got into Oxycontin. Hockey ship sailed with the narcotics. Now, we are 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.”
“Dino. Close the bridge. Close the fuckin’ bridge!”
“You print the inside of the van? Just find something and make it look like something that looks like a print. We don’t have enough for a conviction. Fine. But I need to get them in a room. ‘Cause right now they are burning the money bands at some bullshit safe house. All their alibis are paid for a week in advance. We’re not gonna pull any DNA off of this or off the switch car. And that, as they say, is that. This is the ‘not fuckin’ around’ crew. So find me somethin’ that looks like a print so I can grab one of these assholes and shake their tree, because this ‘not fuckin’ around’ thing is about to go both ways.”
“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 9:00 in the morning with assault rifles. You fuckin’ dummies short a guard. Now you’re like a half-off sale at big and tall– every cop is in line. Fortunately, though, for you, this guard, who is 2/3 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 M-one, and end this story with a bag on your head and a paralyzing agent running through your veins. This isn’t fucking townie hopscotch anymore, Doug. But I did want to say one thing. You’re here today so I could 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 tryin’ 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 to fear of trafficking in cigarettes to prevent sexual enslavement, I just want you to know that it’s gonna be me who tells you to go fuck yourself.”
“Claire Keesey, please. She’s the manager. Since when? Just get the warrant. Land, cell, e-mail, fax, skype.”
Dino Ciampa
“Boosted a city work van, which still hasn’t been reported stolen. They used the van to screen the door. Bleached the entire place for DNA. Kills all the clothing fiber, so we can’t get a match. Silent bell came from cage number 2. Assistant manager’s at Beth Israel. Our guys waited for the time lock to expire, then they had the manager open sesame. I don’t know. Where is it?”
“Got it.”
“Yeah, works for Vericom. Never seen the inside of a jail cell. Most of these guys, they got no-show jobs. They take down a truck, foreman goes, ‘yeah, guy was here yesterday.’ He shows us a forged timecard. 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, he’s got some interesting sick days. Bank Boston, Cummins Armored, Arlington Brinks, Cambridge Merchants.”
“Desmond Elden. Systems tech at Vericom, 22 years old. Albert Magloan. Only in Boston is a guy named Albert Magloan. James Couglin. Father was killed in prison, mother died HIV. Shot Brendan Leahey by the cemetery behind Mishawum when he was 18. Pled it out. When the judge asked him why he did it, he said ‘I didn’t like the kid.’ Served nine years for manslaughter. Lives in the same house, dated Coughlin’s sister, who most likely mules for the Florist, who used to employ MacRay’s father. You need a fuckin’ Venn diagram for these people. Young MacRay did 8 months easy for going over the counter at a Bay bank with a nail gun after he washed out from pro hockey. Yeah, he was a big deal for a minute. Got drafted, went to camp, and here’s the shocker– started makin’ trouble, fightin’ with guys. Not the guys on your own team.”
“What? What?”
“Frawl, the inside of the van is a volcano.”
“Hey, Duggy. How are you? I know your father. Got a few years left on his bid. I hear they got to the old guy. Split him up the back. Fuckin’ animals. You’d think they’d go after a younger kid. I don’t know. Makin’ a statement, I guess. Townie crews ain’t what they used to be. Dorchester, southie… lookin’ to make a move. Maybe you can change all that when you get up there. You know we lifted a print off the van? Right? Special Agent Frawley, Douglas MacRay.”
Krista Coughlin
“Hmm. Juice? Do you want some snappers to go with that? I was just playin’. Fuck. Do I look like I got in a fight? Hmm, that’s right. Fuckin’ Somalian started talkin’ shit when I was with my daughter. All they see are yuppies out here. They think there’s no more serious white people in Charlestown. So they can fuckin’ talk shit? No. Well, do you miss it? We smoked it to the filter, right? You know what I miss?”
“There you go. There you go.” That’s what you want, right? Is that what you want? Oh, say you love it. Ooh. Good night.”
Gloansy
“Lock the doors! Lock the doors! Get on the ground! Get on the ground! Get your fucking ass on the ground! Slide them up. Let’s go! Let’s go! Take your shoes off. Hey, sweetheart, in the corner. Get in the corner. You, too, brother-man.”
“Come on. Let’s go. We gotta go.”
“Is that where we are now? He stopped on the way down here to light a couple house fires, stick up a liquor store, maybe? I don’t know. You gonna talk to this fuckin’ asshole? Hey. Speak of the fuckin’ devil. Let me see that thing. Oh, shit. This bitch lives four blocks away from here. How the fuck you gonna handle this?”
“Are you gonna take care of it? How much money’s in the sack?”
“Fuckin’ nicest kid. Duggy, sit down. I’m tryin’ to tell these motherfuckers about your father. The feds will never understand. The guys is facing 40 years. They’re gonna give him the opportunity to walk scot-free if he gives up his friends. He tells ’em, ‘suck a dick. Gimme the 40.’ Doin’ his time like a man. Last crew in Charlestown. Let me get a Shirley Temple with a extra cherry, please.”
“Fuckin’ douche bag. Say your prayers. Here we go. They’re callin’ out! How do you like that, motherfucker?! They’re goin’ for the bridge! Now that’s how you drive a fuckin’ car! All the DNA in Charlestown.”
“Ahem. ‘Come here, get on the ground, before I pop your fuckin’ teeth out!’ Uh… uh, I don’t wanna read that. This is– this shit, it doesn’t sound right. I’m trying to make the shit sound fuckin’ authenticious. You got it all fucked up.”
Desmond Elden
“I need everybody’s Blackberrys. Everybody on the fuckin’ floor. Slide your Blackberrys up front. Hands on your fucking back.”
“Are we taking hostages now? So what? What’s a matter? You see the fuckin’ address on that. We gonna see this bitch on the street every day? Jesus, are you sure? Find out what?”
“Boom. Hey, Krista’s here. Last crew in Charlestown.”
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
The Florist
“How’s it going, son? Trust me.”
Rusty
“Hey, Jem. What’s up, boy? Fergie. Kid’s here.”
Big Mac
“Thanks, Lenny. Hey, you know how it is. I can’t take no shit. Fuckin’ southie kids. They wanna run everything. Yeah, yeah. Well, some thing you gotta deal with yourself, you know? Takin’ heat? Yeah, don’t tell me. ‘Makin’ a change.’ Either you got heat or you don’t. I heard a bread truck got dropped. Okay. Yeah. Uh… looked for who? Ah… look, when your mother left, you cried so hard you were throwin’ up. All over the parlor. So I told you if you looked around, you might find her. It was to give you an activity. I didn’t think you’d carry it like a fuckin’ disease. What, you wanna think she was an angel? Go ahead. But look out your front door. How many 22-year-old girls are out there? They’re fuckin’ around with kids they don’t want and, you know, no sense in their heads. And your mother wasn’t no different. That’s the hard truth. I made my peace with it. You make yours. I didn’t look for her because there was nothin’ to find. Look, I gotta die five times before I get outta here, but… I’ll see ya again. This side or the other.”
Charlestown
“I’m grateful to be here today. Growing up in Charlestown in– in, um, you know, a small-knit community, we took care of each other, and we were protected. My friends were really like my family. I’m ashamed of a lot of the things I done when I’m out there. You know, I– I don’t know. I don’t know where I learned these things. Seven years went by, and I’d watch Christmas, birthdays– I didn’t know what my son looked like. And I’d make a fast buck if we had to, that progressed, into, uh, gettin’ arrested, and, uh… the struggle that you have within yourself, the loss. You know what I mean? The-the disappointment in yourself. The anger that turns into disappointment. The despair.”
“It’s like the guy sittin’ at the bar and a priest walks in. Pulls up a chair. The guy says, ‘hey, wait a minute.’ He says, ‘I hate to tell you this. Don’t waste your time, but I happen to know there’s no God.’ The priest says, ‘yeah, how’s that?’ The guy says, uh, ‘I was an explorer in the North Pole. Freezin’. I was blinded. Freezin’ to death. And I prayed, if there’s 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’ve saved you.’ He says, ‘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.”
“Hey. Fuckin’ cocksucker! Get off him! Ugh!”
“Everyone does trucks. These guys beat the alarm for the vault. That’s what I heard. A kid, he gets into the– the junction box.”
“They obviously know how to work the box. But I like the way they zapped the BPT to the D-5 station. Get a job at Vericom.”
“Who is it? What the– I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. No. Chill, chill, chill, man. Chill. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about! Aah! Fuck.”
“They win the game in overtime. Then ya flip it over, then ya go back to Fenway Park. Then ya get another great ending to another…”
“Uh, nothing appears disturbed. Uh… for this apartment anyway. The, uh, chef locked the door but… this is Sierra 6-5-9-9-3-zero-zero. Uh! Uh! Get back! Get back! Get outta the way! Any units in the area, get to 10-61 in progress… get out here, asshole, I got your friend. Put that fuckin’ gun down now! I got you, motherfucker!”
“Driver, turn your engine off! Hands where I can see them! Shut the engine off now! Put your hands in the air.”
“Alpha one-0-one, alpha 4-12, alpha 4-0-7, are all en route to the north end of the Charlestown bridge.”
“Turn around. Go ahead, just read what’s on the paper. Come on, read it. Read it all. There’s about five things there. What the fuck is it with you guys in Charlestown? Don’t they teach you how to read? Come on, let’s go. There’s things here. Read ’em. I’m not asking you. It’s not a choice. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Read the pages, please. Authen-what?”
“Good morning, Cambridge savings. Oh, she no longer works here. Friday.”
Walpole
“Visitors, straight ahead. Who you seein’? Twelve. Right down there. You got five minutes! Five minutes.”
FBI
“Thanks.”
“Pro hockey? Don’t they pay you to fight in hockey?”
Pub
“No problem.”
“Hey, Jem. How’s it goin’?”
Bank
“Jesus Christ, Man! Hello! Hey, you guys open? Look, nobody did anything. Nobody did anything. No. No. I didn’t pull any alarm.”