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This is a true story about friendship that runs deeper than blood.
This is my story and that of the only 3 friends in my life who truly mattered.
Two of them were killers who never made it past the age of thirty.
The other is a non-practicing attorney living with the pain of his past...
...too afraid to let it go, never confronting its horror.
I'm the only one who could speak for them...and the children we were.
My three friends and I were inseparable...
...happy and content to live in the closed world of Hell's Kitchen.
The West Side streets of Manhattan were our private playground...
...a cement kingdom where we felt we were nothing less than absolute rulers.
Hell's Kitchen was populated by an uneasy blend of...
Irish, Italian, Puerto Rican,
and Eastern European laborers. Hard men living hard lives.
We lived in railroad apartments inside red brick tenements.
Few mothers worked and all had trouble with the men they married.
I buried one fucking wife, I could bury another one!
Domestic violence was a cottage industry in Hell's Kitchen.
Yet, there was no divorce and few separations.
The will of the Church was forceful.
For a marriage to end, someone usually had to die.
Yet, despite the harshness of life...
...Hell's Kitchen offered the kids on its streets a safety net...
...enjoyed by few other neighborhoods.
Crimes against people of the neighborhood were not permitted.
When they did occur, the punishment doled out was severe...
...and, in some cases, final.
A drug dealer from uptown moved heroin into Hell's Kitchen.
A packet killed the twelve-year old son of a Puerto Rican numbers runner.
It was the last packet the dealer ever sold.
Hell's Kitchen was a place of innocence...ruled by corruption.
My friends and I spent lots of time inside Holy Angels.
We each served as altar boys.
Everyone wanted to work funeral masses,
since the funeral included a $3 fee...
...and more if you looked sufficiently somber.
There was an active competition between the four of us...
...to come up with the best and boldest prank.
Two weeks into the new school year,
I found the nun's clacker in the school hallway...
...and I was ready for the big leagues.
In church, it was used to alert the girls as to when...
...they should stand, sit, kneel and genuflect...
...all based on the number of times the clacker was pressed.
In my pocket, it was cause for havoc.
You will be defenders of the faith. You will be soldiers of Christ.
And you will receive the gifts...
...of the Holy Spirit.
It's gonna be a great day and your...
...parents will be proud of you. When you were baptized...
...godparents made promises for you. And now...
-You're gonna confirm those promises. -Let me have the clacker.
What clacker?
Now!
Let everyone rise.
Let us pray.
Nuns are such easy targets.
John and I spent more time in church than the others.
We were the only two in the group to give any thought of entering the priesthood.
And John and I were intrigued by the powers the priest was given.
A secret world of betrayal and deceit, where people...
...openly admitted dark misdeeds and vile indiscretions.
Confession was better than any book we could get our hands on,
or any movie we could see, because the sins were real...
...committed by people we knew.
The temptation to be part of that was far too great to resist.
If we get caught, they'll burn us.
What if our mothers are out there?
What if we end up hearing their confessions?
What if we hear something worse?
Like what?
Like a murder. What if somebody cops to a murder?
Relax. All we've got to do is sit back, listen and remember not to laugh.
Seconds later, our booth comes to life.
I...sleep with married men.
Men with families.
In the morning, I tell myself it's the last time, but it never is.
Yes?
You see, I'm...I'm pregnant.
The father?
Take a number.
What are you going to do?
I know what you want me to do.
And I know what I should do.
I just don't know what I'm gonna do.
Look, I gotta go.
Thanks for listening, fellas. I really appreciate it.
I know you'll keep it to yourselves.
She knew.
Yeah, she knew.
Why do you think she told us all that?
I don't know. I guess she had to tell somebody.
Father Robert Carrillo was a longshoreman's son...
...who was as comfortable sitting on a bar stool in a back alley saloon...
...as he was standing at the altar during High Mass.
He had toyed with a life of petty crime before finding his calling.
He was a friend...a friend who just happened to be a priest.
You know what crap like that does to your body?
Come on, Father, it beats smoking. And it's cheaper, too.
Maybe. So, what do you hear, anything?
No, nothing.
I hear you're interested in becoming a priest.
Who says?
Word is you want to get the feel of a confessional booth.
I don't know what you're talking about, Father.
You don't?
Maybe I got the wrong information.
I guess you did.
I'll see you later tonight.
What's tonight?
I gotta drop some books and magazines off...
...for the elderly and disabled around the neighborhood.
Your mother said you'd love to help.
I bet she did.
Shakes...l don't want you getting into any trouble.
Come on, Father, you know I never do.
That's all I wish for you and your friends.
That's it?
That's it. Nothing else, I swear, that's it.
You know, a priest shouldn't swear.
And kids shouldn't be listening to other people's confessions.
I'll see you tonight.
All right...see you.
Michael was the most sexually experienced of our group,
which meant that he kissed a girl on more than one occasion.
But his real love was Carol Martinez, Hell's Kitchen's half-breed.
Half Puerto Rican, half Irish, she was raised by her father,
her mother having died at childbirth.
Carol stayed pretty much to herself but was always comfortable in our company.
We could always count on Carol...
...to stand sentry on the first night of the Ice Capades.
While crowds of families lined the front of the Garden...
...waiting to see the skaters perform...
...we each had one eye in a hole...
...watching two dozen beautiful and nearly naked women...
...get into their skaters' outfits.
This is what heaven must be about.
Carol, you want to take a look?
Like it's something I haven't seen?
You're so lucky!
She's so beautiful. My God, I could die now and I wouldn't be sad.
When my friends and I were young,
...Hell's Kitchen was run by a man named King Benny.
When he was young, King Benny was a hit man for Lucky Luciano.
Lucky Luciano did a lot of good for this country during World War ll.
But you ain't gonna read about that in any fucking history book!
There was talk King Benny was the shooter of "Mad Dog Coll"...
...that prick on West 23rd Street. He ran bootleg with "Dutch" Schultz.
And he opened up a couple of clubs with "Tough Tony" Anastasia.
I was 14 when I first heard about him. The story goes:
As a kid, he wasn't much of anything.
He was always getting the shit kicked out of him in street fights.
And then one day, and who the fuck knows why, some Irish guy...
...about 25 years old, he takes King Benny...
...and he flings him down a flight of stairs.
King Benny breaks all his teeth in the front.
You know what King Benny does?
He waits. He waits 8 years...
...to get even with that prick.
He walks into a public bath house.
The guy's soaking in the tub.
King Benny takes out his front teeth. He lays them down on the sink.
Then he looks over at the guy and says,
"When I look in the mirror, I see your face."
Then he pulls out a gun...
...and he shoots the guy twice in each leg.
Then he says to the guy:
"Now, when you take a bath, you see mine."
No one ever fucked with King Benny after that.
Revenge!
Can I talk to you for a minute?
I'd like to work for you. Help you out, whatever you need.
You're the butcher's kid...am I right?
What kind of a job are you looking for?
Whatever, it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter?
Everybody says this is the place to come for jobs.
Who is everybody?
People from the neighborhood.
Let me ask you, what the fuck do they know?
They know you got jobs.
Sorry I wasted your time.
Hold on a sec!
Come back tomorrow if you want to work.
-What time tomorrow? -Any time.
You'll be here?
I'm always here.
My first job for King Benny paid $25 a week and...
...ate up only 40 minutes of my time.
In the dark club room, one of the guys would hand me a crumpled paper bag...
...and direct me to one of the two local police precincts for delivery.
It was a perfect way to handle payouts.
Come on, let's go! Right here.
Let's see what kind of cash you've got in that bag.
You gotta be nuts! Do you know who you're taking off?
Yeah, we know, and we're scared shitless.
Give me the bag. Give me the fucking bag!
Hey, what you do there? Answer me! What you do there?
This time they took my money!
You took the money from the boy?
The money they took is in the bag.
Let me have the bag.
Fuck you!
How about now?
All right, take it easy.
You're not smart anymore. This make you stupid.
Let me have the bag.
Now, go!
What about them?
You care?
Then go! Go! Run!
I need somebody with me. What if the old guy hadn't showed?
What you need?
My friends.
Your friends? What do you think, this is camp?
These kids, you can trust. I've known them half my life!
Okay, get your friends.
Father Bobby knew we worked for King Benny, and he wasn't pleased.
He wasn't worried about the pocket money, but the next step...
...when they ask you to pick up a gun.
He didn't want that to happen to us.
You think running for King Benny is a good idea?
It pays.
A lot of things pay.
Not like this.
Most priests liked to preach from the pulpit.
Father Bobby liked to talk during the bump and shove of a pick-up game.
Good shot!
I found an art class for you to take.
You know I can't afford to take any art classes.
You don't have to pay anything. The teacher's a friend of mine.
It could be nothing but a waste of time, Father.
Maybe, or it could be the first step.
First step to what?
Doing something with your life.
You never know, it may help you get out of here.
You all can get out of here.
Guys, are we gonna talk or play basketball?
Listen, I got a story I want to tell you.
It ain't the one about the lepers, is it? Cause that one gave me nightmares.
No lepers. Michelangelo. He was born poor, just like you guys.
He was a painter, he was a sculptor.
He takes this job from the Pope. Good money, good work.
Okay, Father, but why'd the Pope call him?
Because the Pope was looking for the best guy he could find...
...to paint the ceiling of his church in Rome.
It don't sound like that big a job, Father.
Well, for Michelangelo it was.
Michelangelo needed the job...
...because it paid more money than he ever had in his life.
And that way, he could pay off the loan sharks that were chasing his father down.
What's his father?
He was like a low-level...con guy.
Conned people out of money, goats, sheep...
Goats?
Chickens, whatever he could, you know.
-Chickens? -Chickens?
You know what happened?
He painted a ceiling no one will ever forget.
Painted it like he was touched by the hand of God.
Did he pay off the loans?
Every single one of them.
How long did it take him, painting the ceiling and all?
It took him about 9 years.
9 years?!
That's a big ceiling!
I had a Puerto Rican do my whole apartment in two days.
And he had a bum leg.
You know, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you guys.
Hey, just give us a job painting, and leave the rest to us.
You know what it was? The Sistine Chapel!
Sixteenth Chapel?
Who painted the other fifteen?
Outside events meant little. In a society changing radically by the hour...
...we watched the images scatter nightly across the T.V. screens.
Young protesters spoke about how they were going to change our lives...
...and fix the world. But while they shouted their slogans...
...my friends and I went to funeral services...
...for the young men of Hell's Kitchen...
...who came back from Vietnam in body bags.
We viewed with skepticism the faces on television...
...those protected by money and upper-middle-class standing.
A growing army of feminists marched across the country...
...demanding equality. Yet, our mothers still cooked...
...and cared for men who abused them mentally and physically.
For me and my friends, these developments carried no weight.
They might as well have occurred in another country...in another century.
Our attention was elsewhere.
We sat with Father Bobby in a third floor hospital ward, visiting John...
...hoping he'd recover from a punctured lung.
A gift from one of his mother's over-zealous boyfriends.
I hope you like these. You better not tell me you don't.
Father Bobby didn't let that situation rest.
I gave on Sunday. I'm in a rush, okay?
John Reilly.
The little punk!
He got out of line, so I put him back in line. No big deal.
You put him in the hospital.
He's alive, ain't he? Look, if he's smart, he learned himself a lesson.
What are you? About 220, 230?
You're a big guy. How much you think John Reilly weighs?
80, 85? That's not even a featherweight.
If this were a fight, you'd be way out of your division.
Look, it was a slap, it was nothing.
Well, next time you'll be meeting me.
And I may not be in your division, but I do weigh more than 85 pounds.
And you won't need a doctor when I'm done, you'll need a priest...
...to pray over your body.
See you in church.
Father Bobby would've made a good hit man.
It's a shame we lost him to the other side.
We were down 7-6 in the last inning of a sewer-to-sewer stickball game...
...against Hector Maldonado... and three of his friends.
Come on, Davy...take this chump out. He got nothing!
Shut up!
Who's that?
His sister.
What happened to her?
I'm not sure, some kind of cancer got in her legs or something.
Worry about the game, come on.
Come on, Davy, strike the scumbag out.
He can't touch you Davy, he can't touch you.
Hey, while you don't got any legs, you got a lot of tongue!
This is it...home run!
Easy, Mike.
What the fuck you looking at, little dick?!
She's nothing but charm.
Come on, Davy!
You can take him, you can take him, Mikey.
Yeah, I told you he wasn't shit, baby!
Hey, swallow your tongue, you little gimp bitch!
You could've helped her across the street...
...or you could've bought her an ice cream.
You didn't have to throw the game.
Yeah, and now we're the Salvation Army.
You ever wonder why there ain't a Salvation Navy?
Game over, losers. Cough up the cash. A buck each.
He's no better than you.
He was today.
No. You let him be.
All because Irish, here, has a thing for little girls with no legs.
Look, stay away from this, fat man, all right?
You boys are soft like bread. It's going to catch up to you.
And when it does, it's going to hurt...bad.
What happens is our business, not yours, okay?
You gotta stay tough to be tough.
Guy smells it when you're weak; eat you like a salad.
Do you see that street?
That street is the dish of life, and you boys are appetizers.
Somebody gonna come along, eat you up and forget about you by dessert.
Take it easy, fat man. It was just stickball.
Yeah, but going soft is a habit.
You have to keep yourself mean and cut your life around it!
All right, all right, calm down.
It's like hanging out with fucking Confucius over here.
Be funny, limp dick.
Look, this is just free advice from me to you.
You take it or you throw it away. It don't matter.
Thanks a lot, fat man.
In truth, we were all surprised by Michael's actions.
But in his mind, losing that game meant...
...handing a feeling of victory to a girl in a wheelchair...
...was more than the right thing to do.
Come on, let's go swimming.
The temperature topped out at 98 degrees...
...on the day our lives were forever altered.
I'm frying like an egg up here. I say, we get some buttered rolls,
a couple of cold sodas, and head down to the docks.
Can't you feel the breeze up here?
What breeze? We're surrounded by a wall, genius!
The devil couldn't stand this heat.
Will you guys shut up, please?
I'm trying to get my burn.
It's 98 degrees!
-There's some breeze up here. -It's a hot breeze.
We haven't hit the hot dog vendor in a couple of weeks.
I don't know, Mikey. That cart guy ain't like the others.
I mean, he gets pretty pissed, like crazy when you try to take him off.
We can eat hot dogs... or we can eat air...choose.
Air is probably safer, Mike.
Yeah, a hot dog ain't worth bleeding over, Mikey.
Yeah, anyway, whose turn is it?
Yours!
-Yeah, it's yours. -Mine? It's not my turn.
-Yes, it is! -I went like last month.
-He went two weeks. -You never went.
-Last month. -Are you nuts? I went right after him.
I'm not going.
-Why? -It's too hot.
If I walk down the stairs, I'll pass out.
Mustard and onions. No soda.
I know you!
I look like a lot of people.
The scam was simple.
I was to walk up to the hot dog vendor and order what I wanted.
The vendor would then hand me my hot dog and watch as I ran off without paying.
This left the vendor with two choices, neither very appealing.
He could stand his ground and swallow his loss, or he could give chase.
The second forces him to abandon the cart...
...where my friends could feast in his absence.
I'm gonna need two napkins?
Pay my money, thief!
Wow! Ketchup!
I took it from him and ran!
I scooted past Tommy Mug's Dry Cleaners and Armond's Shoe Repair.
The vendor gave chase, a wooden- handled, pronged fork in one hand.
You gonna give me two?
You know, these things are heavier than they look.
Genius, it's the gas tanks to keep the food hot.
They're heavier than shit!
Think we can push it, the three of us?
Push it where?
A couple of blocks. It'll be a nice surprise for the guy...
...when he comes back from chasing Shakes, not to find his cart.
The vendor tired at 47th and 9th.
I was on the other side of the street.
He was beat...but not beaten.
He could go ten minutes more, just on hate alone.
Give it up.
What's wrong, Mikey?
Shakes is taking too long. He should've been back by now.
He'll be fine. He's Shakes.
You guys were supposed to take the hot dogs, not the wagon.
-Now he tells us. -He's coming fast, Mikey.
He still near?
I got a plan! Come on over by the subway!
The plan was as simple and as dumb as anything we had ever done.
We were to hold the cart on the top edge of the stairwell,
Leaning it downward, and wait for the vendor.
We were to let it go the second he grabbed the handles.
Then we'd leave the scene as he struggled to ease the cart back onto the sidewalk.
To this day, I don't know why we did it.
But, we would all pay a price.
It only took a minute...but in that minute...everything changed.
Guys, I can't hold it!
-Don't let go! -I can't hold it!
I can't hold it!
Stop! God, no! !
Damn!
Sweet Jesus! What have you boys done?
What in the name of God have you boys done?
I think we just killed a man.
While James Caldwell was slowly recovering at St. Clare's Hospital...
...we were charged and remanded into our parents' custody.
I'm sorry, dad.
'Sorry' ain't gonna do you much good.
Take it easy! This is no time to get crazy!
You're going to jail and you don't even know what the fuck that means!
Ma! Come look, Ma!
I don't know. Bastard!
He's just a kid! He shouldn't have to do time!
Nobody in this family should have to do time. I done enough time for everybody!
I hear you're short an altar boy.
You still remember what to do?
Easy on the water, heavy on the wine.
And ring the bells whenever I see someone start to nod off.
Get ready...we got 5 minutes till show time.
I'm gonna miss this.
I'm gonna miss all of this.
I've been doing all I can, but so far every door I touch is locked.
I could run...we all could run.
Disappear for a while.
Nobody's gonna come looking.
Nobody's gonna care about us... about where we go.
You run now, you're gonna run till you die.
Hiding's not gonna make it go away. People aren't gonna forget.
You've gotta face this.
I can't, Father.
I don't want to face it.
I'm too scared to face it.
I'm scared, too.
Nobody's more scared than I am, but you gotta do it.
You're gonna be okay. You're gonna make it through there.
You understand?
Come on. We got an audience.
I counted three rummies and four widows on my way in.
Plus Fat Ralphie sleeping one off in the last row.
It's the rain. Bad weather always brings in the crowds.
This is one of my favorites.
What is?
"Whatever you do to the least of my brethren...you do to me."
Come on.
We never saw the vendor as a man...
...not the way we saw other men of the neighborhood.
And we didn't care enough about him to grant him any respect.
We gave little notice to how hard he worked, or that he had a wife...
...and two kids in Greece and hoped to bring them to this country.
We didn't pay attention to the long hours he worked.
We didn't see any of that. We only saw a free lunch.
Thomas Marcano, the court hereby sentences you to be remanded...
...for a period of no more than 18 months, no less than 1 year...
...to the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
John Reilly, the court hereby sentences you to be remanded for a period...
...of no more than 18 months or less than 1 year...
...to the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Lorenzo Carcaterra.
Taking into consideration that you arrived on the scene...
...after the theft of the cart had already occurred...
...in consideration of that, the Court hereby sentences you to serve...
...no more than 1 year, no less than 6 months at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
Michael Sullivan.
The Court hereby sentences you to be remanded...
...for a period of no more than 18 months...
...no less than 1 year at the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
And I might add... had it not been for the intervention...
...of Father Robert Carrillo who spoke in glowing terms on your behalf...
...l would've sentenced you to a much stiffer punishment.
I still have my doubts as to your inherent goodness.
Only time will serve to prove me wrong.
Could you do me a favor?
What do you want? Name it.
The past couple of weeks...
...my mother and father looked like they were ready to kill each other.
Could you watch over them for me?
I will.
And no matter what you hear, tell them I'm doing okay.
You mean, you want me to lie?
It's a good lie, Father. You can do it.
Come on, let's go.
Be strong.
I will.
The Wilkinson Home for Boys held 780 youthful offenders...
...housed in 5 separate units.
From the outside, the facility resembled what those who ran it...
...wanted it to resemble...
...some kind of nice school or university.
Michael, Tommy, John and I were assigned to the 2nd floor of Group C.
We each had a private 12 ft room. I'd been in my room less than an hour...
...when the panic set in. It doesn't take very long...
...to know how tough a person you are, or how strong you can be.
I knew from my first day at Wilkinson that I was neither tough nor strong.
Hello, Carcaterra.
Toss your clothes on the floor.
Here?
Were you expecting a dressing room? We don't have any.
Now, lose the clothes.
In front of you?
Let's go, let's go!
What's that piece of shit around your neck? Take it off.
It's Mary, you know, the mother of God.
I don't give a fuck whose mother it is. Take it off.
Everything.
You want me to stand here naked?
Now you're catching on.
I knew you Hell's Kitchen boys weren't as dumb as everyone says.
Now, what?
Get dressed.
There were four guards assigned to each floor...
...with one -- in our case, Nokes -- designated group leader.
Ferguson was the only son of a slain New York State trooper...
...and was on the waiting list for both the New York City...
...and Suffolk County Police Departments.
Styler was using his job at Wilkinson's to finance his way through law school.
Addison was a graduate of a local high school...
...who wanted nothing more than a steady job that paid well.
It was not a group of innocent young boys at Wilkinson.
Most, if not all, the inmates belonged there.
A number of them were riding out their 2nd and 3rd convictions.
All were violent offenders. Few seemed sorry about what they had done.
And as for rehabilitation, forget it.
What the fuck did you do that for?
You got close to me.
So?
It bothers me.
I don't want to be near you or your creeped out friends!
You know your time here hasn't taught you shit!
You're still the same fucking bunch of clowns you were...
...the day you walked in here.
Okay, everybody go on back and finish your lunches.
There's nothing to see.
Go on, go, sit down... get out of here.
Go on.
That go for me too?
No, it don't go for you.
You go back to your room. You're through with your lunch. Go on.
You and me...we're gonna finish this sometime real soon.
Maybe at dinner.
So...you Hell's Kitchen boys get any lunch?
I got to smell it.
You got to smell it...
That's good.
Where you going?
You said to get lunch.
You boys don't need to get back in line to get lunch 'cause...
...there's plenty to eat right where you're standing.
You could smell it.
I'm not hungry.
Well, I don't give a fuck if you're hungry or not.
You eat...because I'm telling you to eat.
I'm still not hungry.
I'll tell you when you're hungry or not.
Now, eat.
Excuse me? What the fuck are you looking at?
Get the fuck down on your knees now and finish your goddam lunch!
Come on now, eat! Don't think you got all fucking day, here! Eat!
You've got some mashed potatoes... come on, suck up some of that jello.
Come on now, you fucking assholes, eat! Don't be thinking you got all day.
Hurry up. Come on, now, let's go.
None of you clowns are leaving here until these assholes finish their goddam lunch!
You got that? Hey you....
There you go, you can't have a good lunch without a nice piece of bread. Eat!
Come on now, that's good.
Show the boys how you follow my rules.
Rules! You understand?
Hey look, boys, see how he follows my rules?
Your shift's over, Nokes.
I'm not ready to go yet. I still got a few more things...
...l gotta clean up here before I can leave.
It's my tour now. I'll clean what needs cleaning.
Stay out of this one. It's got nothing to do with you.
This one, I'm staying in.
Don't fuck with me, boy.
No, Nokes...you fuck with me.
I'm asking you.
You're eating into my shift.
I'll get out of your way...for now.
I'll take what I can get.
You boys get off your knees.
It's a tragedy. I'll tell you.
I don't understand you boys.
I don't think you know what it means to have rules.
You gotta have rules, and you gotta have discipline.
I don't know what it was like in your homes and your home lives, but...
...in my house with my father, there were rules!
And if you didn't follow the rules, there was hell to pay.
You had rules, and you had discipline.
Sometimes, it wasn't nice, but we learned. We sure did learn.
Right around there to the right. There you go.
I mean, it's a simple thing, really. You got rules, and you got discipline.
That's the beginning of the story, and that's the end of the story.
We understand each other?
Turn and face the wall.
Now, we got interrupted earlier in the lunch room, but...
...there's no one to interrupt us here now.
What do you want?
A blow job.
Down on your knees.
Face the wall.
There are no clear pictures of the sexual abuse we endured.
I buried it as deep as it could possibly go.
What I remember most clearly from that chilly October night...
...was that it was my fourteenth birthday...
...and the end of my childhood.
Early in my stay, I'd written and asked my father not to come.
I couldn't look at my father and have him see on my face...
...all that had happened to me.
Michael had done the same with the interested members of his family.
Tommy's mother couldn't get it together to visit.
John's mother came up once a month.
But no one could stop Father Bobby from visiting.
So listen, let's try to keep this on a happy note, okay?
Nokes warned us not to say anything to Father Bobby.
If we did, reprisals would be severe.
You lost a few pounds.
It's not exactly home cooking.
Sit down.
This is where I get to see all four of you guys today.
I loved Father Bobby, but I couldn't stand to look at him.
I was afraid he'd look right through me...
...past the fear and shame, right through to the truth.
Shakes, is there anything you want to tell me?
Anything at all?
You shouldn't come here anymore, Father.
I appreciate it and all, but...
...l don't think it's the right thing for you to do.
I stopped off at Attica today on my way up here to see an old friend.
You have any friends not in jail?
Not as many as I would like.
What's he in for?
Triple murder. He killed three men about fifteen years ago.
And he's a good friend?
He's my best friend.
We hung out together.
We were close... just like you and the guys.
We were both sent up here.
That's right. And it wasn't easy...
...just like it's not easy for you and the guys.
This place killed him... made him not care anymore.
Don't let this place do that to you, Shakes.
Don't let it make you think you're tougher than you are.
I've got to go, Father.
I'll see you in the Kitchen.
I'm counting on you.
Wipe the tears off your face. Don't let them see it.
Don't let them see you crying. Don't give them the satisfaction.
You'll be out of here before you know it.
You're gonna be okay.
I didn't want to let him go.
I never felt as close to anyone as I felt to him at that moment.
A number of the inmates, as tough as they acted during the day...
...would often cry themselves to sleep at night.
There were other cries, too.
These differed from those filled with fear and loneliness.
They were lower and muffled; the sounds of pained anguish.
Those cries can change the course of a life.
They are cries that, once heard, can never be erased from memory.
On this one night, those cries belonged to my friend, John...
...when Ralph Ferguson paid him a visit.
I was expecting to read 30 book reports over the weekend.
There are only 6 for me to read... which means I'm missing how many?
This is English class. Math is down the hall.
I want to help you. You may not believe that.
Or you may not care, but it's the truth.
-You got a second? -What, I do something wrong?
No. You did a great job on your book report.
You really seemed to like the book, "The Count of Monte Cristo."
It's my favorite. I like it more since I've been here.
Why is that?
It's like...he wouldn't let anyone beat him, the Count.
Took what he had to take, beatings, insults and whatever.
And he learned from it.
Then when the time came for him to do something, he made his move.
-You admire that? -No, I respect that.
You got a copy of the book at home?
I got the Classics Illustrated Comic.
No, it's not the same thing.
Listen, I gotta go. I'm gonna miss morning roll call.
I've got something for you.
I thought you might like to have it.
Are you serious?
Well, you love the book that much. You should have a copy of your own.
-I can't pay you. -It's a gift.
You've gotten gifts before, haven't you?
It's been a while.
-Well, it's my way of saying, thanks. -For what?
That somebody listens... even if it's just one student.
You're a good teacher, Mr. Carlson.
Listen, we can discuss the book on Friday in class if you...
...think the Count can hold their attention.
He's got a shot.
Any particular section I should read from?
That's easy...the part where he escapes from prison.
There you go, All Star. Here's your locker room!
It was only a game...just a touch football game, nothing more.
But a game I wish we had never played.
Guards against inmates. The guards practiced four times a week.
Our team was picked the Monday before the game.
We had a 2 hour practice.
It didn't matter much.
We weren't supposed to win. We were just supposed to show up.
Who's the toughest guy here?
How do you mean, tough?
Who can talk and have everyone listening?
Rizzo. Black kid over there.
Michael saw an opening...a chance to bring the game to our level.
Even out the field. But he needed help. He needed Rizzo.
Black kid with an Italian name. With him on our side, we had a chance.
Look, white boy, I don't know what you play in the streets.
I don't care. But in here, the guards call the play...
...and the play calls for them to win the game.
Why?
Look man...
...guards stay clear of me, all right?
They stay back and let me do my time.
If I play that game and I put a hurt on one of them...
...they just might change my cushion.
I'm not saying we gotta win. I just don't want to take a beating.
You do every day.
-Why is Saturday special? -'Cause on Saturday, we can hit back.
They don't fuck with you like they do us, but they fuck with you another way!
You're just an animal to them.
-I don't give a fuck! -Yeah, you do.
And beating them on Saturday is not gonna change a thing.
Then why, white boy, why?
To make them feel what we feel ...just for a couple of hours.
Now, don't try anything funny, Sambo.
Nobody will get hurt. You know what I'm saying?
I call heads.
He called heads. It is a head.
Let's go.
You're gonna die, mother fucker! You're gonna fucking die!
None of you motherfuckers can cover me!
We got ourselves a game! I'm feeling good today.
This shit feels good.
Fuck!
Get the fuck off me!
Yeah, keep smiling, you little piss ant.
For 90 minutes, we took the game out of the prison...
...moved it miles beyond the locked gates...
...and the sloping hills of the surrounding countryside...
...and brought it back down to the streets of the neighborhoods we'd come from.
For those 90 minutes, we were once again free!
Rizzo! Rizzo!
Rizzo...Rizzo.
Hey, Nokes. Good game.
For once, we had a victory. But it didn't last.
It couldn't last... and all I wanted to do was die.
I was not alone in the hole. I knew my friends were down in the depths with me.
Each in his own cell, each in his own pain...suffering his own demons.
Rizzo was there, too.
I had lost any sense of time.
I thought you'd never wake up.
I thought I'd never want to.
John and Tommy, they're on the other side there.
How are they? They're alive.
Who isn't?
Rizzo.
They killed him?
They took turns beating him until there was nothing of that kid to beat.
Rizzo was dead because of us.
We made him think that going up against the guards...
...in a meaningless football game...
...had some value...that it would give us a reason to go on.
Once again, we were wrong.
Did they give you your release date yet?
Nokes had a letter from the warden.
Waved it in front of me, then tore it up....
When do you figure?
End of spring, early summer or something.
I wish we were coming with you.
It would've been nice for all of us to walk out together.
No use thinking about that. We're gonna do a full year, not an hour less.
When I get out, I could get Father Bobby to make a couple of phone calls.
Shave a month or two off.
-There's nothing to talk about! -There's a lot to talk about.
Maybe, if people knew what was going on in here, they'd make a move.
I don't want anybody to know.
Not Father Bobby, King Benny, Fat Mancho...
...not my mother. Nobody.
I don't either.
I mean, I wouldn't know what to say to anyone who did know.
I can't think of anybody who needs to hear about it.
Either they won't believe it, or they won't give a shit.
Yeah, I don't even think we should talk about it once it's over.
We got no choice but to live with it. And talking makes living it harder.
So, we might as well not even talk about it.
The truth stays with us.
I want to be able to sleep one night...
...and not have to worry who's coming in my room, what's gonna happen to me.
If I can get that, then I'll be happy.
Someday, John, I promise.
I was in my last hours as an inmate at the Wilkinson Home for boys.
I was given four copies of my release form.
The final reminder of my time at Wilkinson.
I never heard the key turn in the lock...
...and I never heard the snap of the bolt.
You should be asleep.
I just wanted to say goodbye. We all do.
I told him. I told him right to his face. I said,
I don't care if you're paying me overtime or not.
I'm not working those kind of hours.
Yeah, did you put in for it?
I put in for it!
Because I put in for it. They don't give it to me.
I come in early for three days. Do they give me overtime? No!
A part of all of us was left there that night.
That night will never be removed from my mind.
The night of June 1, 1968-- the Summer of Love.
My last night at the Wilkinson Home for boys.
At 8:25 p.m. two men walked through the doors.
The bartender knew their faces as most of the neighborhood knew their names.
They were two of the founding members of the West Side Boys.
They were also its deadliest.
The blond-haired man had been in and out of jail since he was a teenager.
He robbed and killed at will or on command.
He was presently a suspect in four unsolved homicides.
He was an alcoholic and a cocaine abuser with a fast temper and a faster trigger.
He once shot a mechanic dead for moving ahead of him in a movie line.
The dark-haired man was equally deadly...
...and had committed his first murder at the age of 17.
In return, he was paid $50. He drank, and he did drugs...
...and he had a wife he never saw, living somewhere in Queens.
He's making a noble attempt to really change things.
-The Republicans will take the House. -Well, we got a lot of work to do.
It's gonna take more than 4 years to get....
They'll take it at the mid-term elections.
He's got the charisma. He's gonna do it.
He's our man. Reagan's the man who's gonna do it.
Hey, Jerry... What are they talking about?
They're talking about Reagan's speech.
Order those two men some drinks and put it on my tab.
You tell them that Republicans are not welcome in Hell's Kitchen...
...and either a political conversion or a change of conversation is in order.
Sure thing.
The gentlemen there would like to buy you a drink on one condition.
You know the rules: no religion, no politics.
You get my meaning?
Order something for me. I gotta go to the bathroom.
Can I help you with something, chief?
Not right now. Enjoy the rest of your meal.
I ordered brisket on a roll, with fries and...
...two baskets of soda bread. I know how you like that shit.
Is that okay by you?
Take a look at the guy at the table. Take a good look.
Motherfucker.
That's him.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Bingo!
This is amazing.
Hello...it's been a long time!
Who the fuck are you guys?
Who the fuck asked you to sit down?
I thought you'd be happy to see us. I guess I was wrong.
You know, I thought you'd do a lot better.
You know, with all that training... all that time you put in...
...just to end up watching someone else's money.
That seems like a waste.
I'm asking you now for the last time, what the fuck do you want?
Why don't you take your time? It'll come to you.
I can see how he might forget us.
You know, we were just something for you and your friends to play with.
It's a little harder for us to forget.
You gave us so much more to remember.
You can't quite place us, can you, chief?
Let me help you out. You're looking at John Reilly and Tommy Marcano.
Yeah, that's right.
That was a long time ago.
So how you been?
Yeah, we ain't kids now.
So, what do you want?
What I've always wanted is to watch you die!
You ordered the meat loaf.
The brisket's really good here, only you'll never know it.
You fucked up.
Yeah, you were scared little pricks, both of you.
All of you...scared shitless. But l...
...l tried to make you tough. I tried to make you hard.
I had you all wrong then, Nokes. All this time I thought you just liked...
...fucking and beating up little boys.
You two motherfuckers are gonna burn in hell!
You're gonna burn in hell.
Yeah, after you.
Did that hurt, Nokes?
Jerry, sorry, should've made those brisket sandwiches to go.
John Reilly, how do you plead?
Not guilty, Your Honor.
Thomas Marcano?
Not guilty, Your Honor.
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano, you are hereby held without bail.
In all the years since Wilkinson's, we had never once spoken to each other...
...about what happened there. We remained caring friends...
...but the relationship had been altered.
We drifted together, always wondering if that moment would arrive...
...that would force us to deal with the past.
One down, Shakes, one down.
One what?
One Sean Nokes.
Nokes?
At the time of Nokes' shooting,
Michael was working as an Assistant New York District Attorney.
I got a call that he wanted to meet me on 45th Street in Queens.
Then, he hung up.
-So, what did they say? -What?
John and Tommy, what'd they say?
It's a little cloak and dagger, isn't it, Mike?
Nokes? Did they talk about him?
-John did. -Yeah?
What did he say?
He said, "One down, Shakes. One down."
I hear they hired Danny Snyder as the lawyer, is that right?
It's temporary. King Benny's gonna move in one of his lawyers.
Don't let him do that. Snyder's perfect.
-Perfect? The guy's a fall down drunk! -Then he is perfect.
Perfect for what?
Are you covering this story for your newspaper?
-Me? -Yeah.
I'm a timetable clerk, Mikey. Ask me what movie's playing at what time.
I'm lucky they let me in the building.
Get some coffee?
Let's take a walk.
I'm gonna prosecute John and Tommy in an open court.
What, are you fucking nuts?
Just hear me out.
You should stay home tomorrow. Call in sick and save your life, counsel.
I'm not taking this case to win.
I'm taking this case to lose.
What does that mean?
It means it's payback time.
Look, John and Tommy started this. It's begun.
It's messy, it's not how I had it planned but...here it is.
And you and l, we can finish it.
Finish what, Mikey?
You read "The Count of Monte Cristo" lately?
I don't know...ten years ago.
You see, I read a little bit of it every night.
I read words like 'revenge'. Sweet, lasting revenge.
Payback time.
It's our time.
What are you saying, Mike?
I'm saying it's time for all of us to get a taste.
I'm saying it's time to put an end to this.
Let's walk.
So, I asked for the case.
I told them I was from the same neighborhood as the accused...
...knew the mentality of the area, blah, blah, blah...
They bought it.
And the connection between John, Tommy and Nokes?
What connection? All juvenile records are destroyed after seven years.
We were never at Wilkinson's.
We gotta go after the guards. I gotta get Wilkinson's.
Bring it all down.
Adam Styler, plain-clothes cop, works narcotics in Queens.
Known to shake down dealers for dope and cash. He's got a cocaine problem.
Other personal information there.
Henry Addison now works for the Mayor, if you can fucking believe that.
He's a Community Outreach Director in Brooklyn.
His sexual habits haven't changed. He still likes sex with young boys.
Ralph Ferguson works in a Social Service agency in Long Island.
How long have you been working on this, Mike?
He's recently divorced, got one child, and on weekends...
...teaches Catholic Sunday school.
Well, he seems clean then, right?
That's exactly why I want the piece of shit.
The plan is to call Ferguson in as a character witness.
Get him talking about his best friend, Sean Nokes.
Once I got him on the stand, I'm gonna open the door to Wilkinson's.
Mike, are you sure you want to go this way?
I mean, we buried this a long time ago.
Do you still sleep with the light on?
John and Tommy, do you want them to know anything about this?
No, it'll play better in court if they don't know.
The 'not guilty' verdict had to be a verdict that no one would dare question.
Danny Snyder was to remain as Tommy and John's attorney.
Michael's plan relied heavily on Hell's Kitchen...
...to deliver information and keep quiet.
Both were skills the Neighborhood had in abundance.
We'd set up a simple method of communication.
If Michael was sending, messages were left at work...
...for me to call my non-existent girlfriend, "Gloria".
If I needed to get word to Michael, I'd have someone from the neighborhood...
...pick up an early edition of the New York Times...
...write the word "Edmund" in the upper right hand corner of the Metro section...
...and drop it in front of Michael's apartment.
For this plan to succeed...
...we needed total secrecy of the only people we completely trusted.
The plan depended on keeping Michael alive...
...which meant that word had to get to John and Tommy's killing crew...
...that he was not an open target.
After this night, Michael would not be available to any of us.
The only time we would see him would be in court.
-That's it? -Not quite.
We've got four witnesses who saw the shooting and are willing to testify.
Gotta get that number down.
-I'll talk to King Benny. -Good.
I can handle two, but... you gotta get us one for our side.
-One of what? -One witness.
A witness who'll put John & Tommy elsewhere on the night of the murder.
A witness they can't touch.
Don't they have a name for that?
A judge would call it perjury.
And what are we calling it?
A favor.
Get up!
-Tony! -Yeah, King?
Bring Danny Snyder to see me.
Who? Danny Snyder, the lawyer?
You know more than one Danny Snyder?
Bring me the one you know.
I can't do this now, you gotta know that. It's been a long time for me.
You need somebody younger, you know. Somebody like I used to be.
Younger is not better.
Doesn't have experience, doesn't know its way around a courthouse.
Yeah, I'm lucky I can find the courthouse.
I had only four cases last year. You know how many I won?
None. That's how many. None.
In two of them, I think the...
...the jury blamed me personally.
They must've been innocent.
It's tough to get innocent men off a rap.
I wasn't even planning on going to court with this one.
I was just gonna plea it down best I could and walk away.
I wasn't planning on taking this to trial, sir.
Well, your plans have been changed.
Well, I am afraid that I'll make a mistake and say the wrong thing...
...make a wrong turn somewhere. And you don't want to take that risk.
Life is risk.
I'm sorry.
Life is risk.
Life is a risk?
I haven't been in here before.
What do you need me to do?
You're gonna be given the answers and the questions.
All you have to do is read. You can read, can't you?
Is it in English?
Just don't drift, don't drink, and don't lose.
What if I do lose?
Then you'll go down for the dirt nap.
Never heard that expression before.
Dirt nap.
I'm not really cut out for this anymore. I mean, a guy gets hit by a bus...
...and sues, I like that.
Some lady slips in a supermarket... I'm with her.
The discussion is over.
I'm an alcoholic. This is a murder case. This isn't for me.
It was once.
Before you let the drink lead.
Be sober by tomorrow. And don't look so worried, Snyder.
You've got nothing to lose... just like the rest of us.
I don't want to be a burden to you, but l...
...along with my alcohol problem, I have a slight drug problem.
I mean, nothing big.
Go away.
Within days of Michael taking the case...
...the West Side Boys got a visit from King Benny.
The King requested that the verbal abuse directed towards Michael continue.
"Traitor" and "gutter rat" were heard up and down the avenue.
But there was never to be a death move against him.
The hit on Michael Sullivan, if there was one, could only come from King Benny.
The underground word... the only one that mattered...
...had spread through the streets with the speed of a late-night bullet.
King Benny's sleepers were making their play.
"Sleepers" was a street name for anyone who spent time in a juvenile facility.
You gonna pay for that, you little prick?
Need your help, fat man. Need a big favor.
I'll be outside.
King Benny been to see you?
Oh, my goodness!
What a fucking thing we put together!
You have a drunk lawyer on one side, a kid lawyer on the other.
Fucking paper boy, making like Dick Tracy.
There are four sets of eyeballs that saw the whole thing!
Meanwhile, the two on trial kill more people than cancer.
Fucking General Custer has a better shot at a walk!
There's no connection with the guard and us.
The cops think it's a drug-related homicide.
It's just we need you to pull a few strings, fat man.
You know, if you get caught on this, you're looking straight at serious.
I'm talking real jail. The big house....
They are not good boys any more.
They're killers now. Cold as stone.
I know.
I know what they were, and I know what they are, and it's not about that.
It's not worth it, throwing away life just to get even.
You and the lawyer have a chance to get out.
To get out the right way.
There's no choice...not for us.
On occasion, I'd have dinner with Carol.
She still lived in the neighborhood and was a social worker in the South Bronx.
Her concern for us was undiminished by the passing years.
Whenever we went out as a group, Carol would walk between Michael and John...
...grasping their arms...
...in step between the lawyer and the killer.
Mug me or marry me, Shakes. I'm too tired for anything else.
Would you settle for a couple of beers, Carol?
If that's your best offer.
I'll throw in a hug and a kiss.
Deal.
You look tired.
Thank you.
They don't give you time to sleep on this new job of yours?
So, how much do you know?
Just what the neighborhood says.
And what I read in papers like yours.
What does the neighborhood say?
That they're gonna put Johnny and Tommy away.
That their best friend's gonna be the one to do it.
You believe that?
It's hard not to, Shakes.
Unless we all have it wrong. He did take the fucking case.
-He did take the case. -What else is there to say?
You know Michael very well...
...maybe even better than I do.
Yeah, I thought I did. Now, I don't know.
-You do know. -I don't know!
He went in there, and he asked for the case.
Now, you tell me, what the hell kind of friend is that?
The best kind.
The kind who'll throw away everything to help his friends.
What are you telling me, Shakes?
You know this neighborhood, Carol. Everything's a shakedown or a scam.
Why should this be any different?
I'm hungry.
I'm gonna get something to eat.
There's this point in Michael that you can't go beyond.
I mean, you can try. I tried.
And he just...he shut down.
Couldn't touch him... couldn't even breathe on him.
I thought it was me.
After a while, it just gets easier to let it go.
Do you still love him?
I don't think about it, Shakes.
If I did, I'd say 'yes.'
But you're with John now.
Yeah...as much as anybody can be with John.
The man I know is not the boy you remember.
None of us are.
But there's something special about John.
You just have to look a little harder to see it.
Why didn't you ever ask me out?
-Me? -Yeah.
Cause you were Mikey's girl.
He got to you first.
And after Mikey?
I think it was Tommy's turn.
Fuck you!
Because...
...l didn't think you'd say 'yes.'
Well, you were wrong, Shakes.
You were wrong.
What? Go ahead and say it.
You work at Social Services, you got files. You got access to files.
And from time to time, we're gonna need some information.
Yeah, sure...whatever...
Wait. What?
Well, what do you want? You want information?
You want me to get the files? I'll get the files!
What do you want?
You still visit John?
Yeah, once a week for about an hour.
-Good. -Good?
Yeah, good. Just don't tell him that you've seen me.
Just don't tell him anything.
I mean, the more he thinks this thing's hopeless, the better it might work.
Shakes, what is this about?
You want a Rolls Royce? You don't come here.
You go to England or wherever the fuck they make it.
If you want champagne, you go see the French.
If you need money, you find a Jew.
But if you want dirt or scum buried under a rock somewhere, or...
...some secret nobody wants anybody to know about, there's only one place to go.
Right here, Hell's Kitchen! It is the lost and found of shit!
They lose it and we find it! Forget about it, man.
Now, you only got two witnesses who are gonna testify.
Two others changed their minds.
-Which two? -The suits at the bar.
So that still leaves the couple in the booth?
For now.
Everything else falling into place?
Except for your witness. That pocket's still empty.
I know.
When you were sent away,
I was always sorry I couldn't do more for you.
I didn't know you liked pigeons so much.
I like anything that don't talk.
Michael's vision on where he wanted this case to go was very clear.
He was aiming for guilty...
...a charge of guilty against the Wilkinson Home for Boys...
...against Sean Nokes, Adam Styler, Henry Addison, and Ralph Ferguson.
I will present to you evidence and offer into account testimony to prove that.
I will place them at the scene of the crime.
I will bring witnesses to the stand who will confirm...
...that they were there on that deadly night.
I will present enough evidence that you can then go into a jury room...
...and come back with a clear decision that's beyond a reasonable doubt.
I'm sure you all know what that means...
...since you probably watch as much television as I do.
John...John Reilly and Thomas Marcano...
...are two innocent pawns, quickly arrested and just...
...as quickly prosecuted on the...
...slightest threads of evidence.
Look on the bright side, he seems to know their names.
I don't have to tell you. You and I know how these things work.
It's nice when you come around.
Hey, bring me another spoon. This one's dirty!
Take it.
No, no, she'll do it.
How's work?
I'm still there.
You know, Pop, l...
...l went down to the courthouse.
You know, I saw John and Tommy.
I started thinking back to when we were young....
Where's the chicken?
So...?
Nothing. I was just thinking.
You're doing good, right?
Yeah. Doing good.
Good.
What the hell do these things do?
They're for praying.
Look at all this shit!
What, does your mother think you're in the fucking army or something?
Ain't none of it on the approved list.
I'm sure your Mommy got a copy of that list.
My mother can't speak English that well.
Don't blame us for your fucking mother being stupid, all right?
When are you gonna let us hear you pray?
Maybe he needs something to pray for.
Put your hands on the table and lay them flat.
Spread your legs.
Now start thinking up some prayers.
We don't hear no praying.
You better start, or Styler might lose his baton up your ass.
Blessed art thou among women...
...and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus....
Pray nice and loud!
Fucker, pray! Come on, now!
-Louder. -Hail Mary...
Louder, fucker!
Pray like you're in fucking church!
Sorry I'm late. I lost all track of time.
I got this idea for a witness, but I'm not quite sure yet.
But I want you to come along. So, you want to just go...
-Where are we going? -To his place.
-Where is it? -It's in the rectory.
No. Shakes!
-Just trust me. -I can't.
How was court today?
Like the first round of a fight... everybody just feeling each other out.
How did the boys look?
Like they wished they were someplace else.
It's the sheep that stray that you most want back.
It's not too late, Father.
We still have a chance to bring in a couple of stray sheep...
...one more chance.
Is that chance legal?
Last chances never are.
King Benny behind this?
He's in on it, but... he's not calling the shots.
Who is?
Michael.
I should've smelled it.
The minute he went for the case, I should've figured something was up.
It's a good plan.
Michael's got it all covered... just about every base you look at.
He's got it covered.
Not every base.
You're short something, or else you wouldn't be here.
You don't shit a shitter, right?
That's right.
So, what is it?
Where do you come up short?
Witness.
We need somebody to take the stand and say...
...they were with John and Tommy on the night of the murder.
So, you figured if you had a priest, it would be perfect?
Not just any priest.
You're asking me... you're asking me to lie.
You're asking me to swear to God and then lie.
I'm asking you to save two of your boys.
-Did they kill that guard? -Yes.
So what they said is true? They walked in and they killed him?
Yes.
They killed him exactly like that.
I think I need a drink.
Anyone want a drink?
This is some favor you're asking me.
We know that.
No, I don't think you do know.
You said, if there was ever anything really important...
...l could come to you, ask you.
I was thinking more along the lines of Yankee tickets.
I don't need Yankee tickets, Father. I need a witness.
What about the life that was taken, Shakes? What's that worth?
To me? Nothing.
Why not? Tell me.
He was a guard at Wilkinsons.
All right.
If Father Bobby was gonna be involved, he deserved to know what he's getting into.
If he wasn't, I trusted that the truth would go no further than this room.
I thought that Carol needed to know, as well.
Jesus Christ, we were just boys. We were not tough.
They held us down.
I told him about the torture, the beatings, and the rapes.
I told him about the four frightened boys who prayed...
...to Father Bobby's God for help that never came.
I told them everything.
We can't fight anymore. They just took it all.
John used to wail at night, hear it all the way down the hall.
You know he wanted to be a priest, John wanted to be a priest.
Then he pulls his pants down. I didn't even know what a blow job was.
I just blacked out what I could. It was like I couldn't even breathe.
Then...l started to choke.
He was pulling the hairs out of the back of my head.
Then I blacked out.
But I do remember when, for fun, they'd take us down in the basement...
...tie two or three of us together...
...and make the other watch as they pulled down their pants and fucked'em.
I got a decision to make.
I only pray it's the right one.
It will be, Father... whichever way you go.
Good night.
So, you were sitting down, you were having dinner...
...and two men entered McHale's, correct?
Did you see them as they approached the table where Mr. Nokes was sitting?
I noticed it, yes.
Did you hear what was said between them?
-Did you see them pull out their guns? -No.
-Did you hear the shots? -Yes, I heard the shots.
And what did they do? What was their behavior after the shooting?
They walked out of McHale's as if nothing had happened.
And at that time, Mrs. Salinas, did you see their faces clearly?
Yes. I looked up as they walked away.
-Are you positive? -Yes, very positive.
Are the two men you saw at McHale's in this room today?
Yes, they are.
Could you point them out to the jury, please?
They're sitting right over there.
Your Honor, will the record reflect that Mrs. Salinas has identified defendants...
...John Reilly and Thomas Marcano as the two men in question.
Noted.
Thank you. No further questions.
Counsel, are you ready to proceed?
Yes, Your Honor, we are.
Good morning.
I just have a few questions. I won't take too much of your time, Mrs. Salinas.
You stated that you only had wine to drink with dinner. Is that correct?
Are you sure about that? Are you sure that was all you had, one bottle of wine?
Yes, a bottle of red Chianti.
Had you anything to drink prior to that?
What do you mean "prior"?
At lunch...maybe did you have anything to drink at lunch?
Yes, I did.
What did you have to drink?
I went shopping, and I stopped at a place on Madison Avenue...
-...for some lunch. -See, I didn't ask you where you went.
I asked you what you had to drink at lunch?
-A martini. -And what else?
Probably some wine.
Yes, and how many glasses of wine did you have to drink?
One glass, maybe two.
-Closer to two? -Yes, probably two glasses.
It's like pulling teeth.
I should've pinned the questions to his shirt.
And tell me, then at dinner you...
Strike that.
What time, Mrs. Salinas, did you have lunch?
Objection, Your Honor!
What Mrs. Salinas did on the day of the murder...
...has nothing to do with what she saw on the night of the murder.
How much she had to drink does, Your Honor.
Overruled!
Mrs. Salinas, what time did you have lunch?
About one-thirty.
And what did you have for lunch?
It was a while ago. Probably a salad.
I like to eat a little light in the day.
A martini, two glasses of wine and a salad, is that correct?
Yes, that's right.
And then you had wine at dinner, about 6 hours later, is that correct?
Yes, that's right.
How much wine did you have to drink...
...by the time my clients allegedly walked into McHale's?
-Two glasses. -Would you say that four glasses of wine...
...and a martini within a 6-hour period is a lot for you to drink?
Yes, it is.
Have you ever heard a gun fired, prior to the night in question?
How would you describe the sound?
It was loud. Like fireworks loud.
-Did the sound frighten you? -Very much.
Did you close your eyes?
At first...until the shooting stopped. Then I opened them.
Did you think the men who were shooting were going to kill everybody in McHale's?
Well, I really didn't know what to think. I just knew that the man had been shot.
Did you think you might be shot dead by the two cold-blooded killers?
Yes, I did.
Yet, despite that fear, despite that risk to your life...
...you looked at their faces as they left?
-Yes, I did. -Is that correct?
Yes, I did.
Did you look at their faces? Did you really...
...really look, Mrs. Salinas?
I glanced at them when they walked by, but I did see them!
You...glanced? You didn't look?
I saw them!
You glanced at them, Mrs. Salinas. You glanced at them through the eyes...
...of a very frightened woman who maybe had too much to drink.
-Objection, Your Honor. -There is no need, Your Honor.
I have no further questions.
Thank you, Mrs. Salinas. You may step down.
It was 6:15 on Sunday morning.
Frank Magicco worked out of a homicide unit in Brooklyn.
He was a first grade detective with an honest name and a solid reputation.
He was also King Benny's nephew.
Nick Davenport was with Internal Affairs.
He was ambitious and wanted to make captain before he hit forty.
He knew the fastest way up the track was to reel in a...
...maximum amount of dirty cops in a minimum amount of time.
Frank, what is this shit?
If I were you, I'd do what the kid says.
You make this one...
...you're gonna be having breakfast once a month with the Commissioner.
You know, you got a real hard-on for this Styler guy. What's your beef with him?
-One more thing. -I can't wait.
It's simple. No one knows who fed you this information. And I mean, nobody.
How did you get it?
It fell into my lap...just like it's gonna fall into yours.
Christ Almighty!
You got everything in here but a confession.
I thought I'd leave that up to you.
My preference is that you beat it out of him.
There's even surveillance photos.
This piece of shit's pulling in about five grand a month, ripping off pushers.
Has been for about 3 years.
-More like 4. -He ain't gonna see 5.
So, you got enough for conviction?
That ain't up to me. That's up to a jury.
Show the jury this.
What do you got there, Ness?
About 3 weeks ago, the body of a drug dealer...
...named Indian Red L�pez was found in an alley in Jackson Heights.
Three bullets in his head, nothing in his pockets.
I'm with you so far.
This is the gun that killed him, and these are the shells.
What's behind door number 3?
The prints on the gun belong to Adam Styler.
-Hey, do me a favor, would you? -What's that?
If I ever make it onto your shit list, give me a call.
Give me a chance to apologize.
So, you need anything else, you talk to Frank. He knows how to get a hold of me.
Take care of yourself, kid. Water gets choppy out your way.
I'll do what I can.
Hey, Ness...did you ever think of becoming a cop?
And leave the good guys?
The body of Christ.
Michael had done all that could be expected...
...of an Assistant District Attorney seeking a conviction.
He had a forensic expert detail the make and caliber of the gun that killed Nokes.
He just never had the murder weapon to present as evidence.
And he never gave the jury a motive for the murder.
The tension of his task, the hours he was working...
...and the uncertainty about the outcome weighed heavily on him.
Did you see their faces?
Yes, I looked at them, and they looked at me.
Did they say anything to you?
No, they just looked at me and walked out of McHale's.
Are you sure the two defendants killed Sean Nokes?
I know they killed him.
If the plan worked, it would be everyone's success.
If it failed, the fault would fall to Michael.
Father Bobby Carillo, the priest with the best hook shot on the West Side...
...remained the key to a plan that called for all involved to get away with murder.
Did you turn around, look behind you, when you heard the shooting, Mr. Carson?
Why didn't you turn around, Mr. Carson?
I was concerned for my companion's safety.
Mr. Carson, did the two individuals threaten you in any way?
Did they threaten anyone in McHale's Restaurant...?
I didn't see it, but I know it!
If you didn't see the defendant shoot the guard...
...then how do you know it was the defendant that shot him?
So, what's the emergency?
Shakes shouldn't have sent you. It's too risky.
Hey, nobody sent me. I wanted to see you.
Why?
Shakes met with Father Bobby 2 weeks ago.
-He hasn't heard from him since. -It's not an overnight decision for him.
-What if he doesn't testify? -Then we got a very serious problem.
Have Shakes talk to Father Bobby again.
Have him tell him the whole story. He'll know what that means.
He already has.
What?!
I...was with him when he talked to Father Bobby.
I heard everything, Michael.
So, you know.
If only you told me.
I think things could've been different.
If you could've talked.
Maybe...maybe we...
Maybe....
Carmen, that diet is working. I don't care what anybody says.
You still have a thing for Doris Day.
She was a good woman. You know the strega?
It's hard to miss a lady with four warts and only one eye.
She needs the heads.
Take this to the witch.
Now, why does she need that?
-She takes the eyes. -Wonderful!
Puts them in a bowl and mixes them with water and oil.
And then?
People get headaches, they go to her. She looks into their eyes...
...and tells them who is wishing the headaches.
She says a few words, and the headaches go away.
Once in a while, the person who wished the headaches, goes away too.
This guy, Addison, the one who works for the Mayor...
...he quits his job in 2 weeks.
He don't want nobody to know what kind of a guy he is.
He don't want nobody to see pictures of him they shouldn't see.
-He knows this? -He will.
The boys he buys for parties are expensive.
Now, Addison makes good money, but he don't make real money.
How much does he owe?
Eight grand with a heavy vig. I paid that off.
-You paid? -Addison's debts belong to me now.
-You hate debts. -I hate Addison!
We're in the dirty end of the field now. That's where I play.
And I like to play alone.
You're a nice kid. You always were. Don't let this change it.
His mother named him Edward Goldenberg Robinson, after her favorite actor.
To continue the Hollywood connection...
Eddie Robinson took the street name "Little Caesar"...
...as he made his way up the ranks of the lucrative drug trade.
He had a 12-year-old son in a private school in upstate New York.
He named him Rizzo, after his youngest brother...
...who died while in the custody of the Wilkinson Home for Boys.
-I want you to give me some money. -All right.
I'll play along. How long before you pay it back?
I ain't paying it back. Somebody else is.
This somebody I know?
-Your little brother knew him. -Rizzo?
How did he know Rizzo?
Henry Addison was a guard in an upstate reform school.
He was there the same time as Rizzo, before and after he died.
Count out $8,000. Put it in an envelope.
You...go back a long time, old man.
Old men always do.
Ran with the guineas, back when the guineas were tough.
I ran when I could.
Looked good doing it, too.
Gave the business some style, some class.
Made it a call for respect, the way you wore it...the way you talked it.
I always liked that about you.
I'm no help to you. My tailor is dead.
I'll look up our friend and collect the money he owes me.
He owes you something more than money.
Ain't nothing worth more than the green.
-This is. -What, old man?
What's this guy owe that means more than dollars?
He owes you Rizzo. He's the man that killed your brother.
They said he died of pneumonia.
They said.
What is the relevance of this?
So, Ralph Ferguson is a Sunday school teacher?
I don't know, counsel. What you're asking is highly unusual.
I understand that, Your Honor. Again, I need to put a face to the victim.
Otherwise it's just another name in the obituaries.
Mr. Snyder, any objections?
I don't have a problem with that.
Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Ralph Ferguson to the stand.
-Good morning, Mr. Ferguson. -Good morning.
I'd like to thank you for coming, I understand it's been a long trip for you.
I'm just sorry it had to be for something like this.
You and the victim, Sean Nokes, were such good friends.
I think your testimony as a character witness will be very valuable.
We were great friends. It would be hard to find a better friend.
-Would you say you were his best friend? -I was his closest, that's for sure.
-How long did you know each other? -About 17, 18 years.
And did you see each other often?
As often as we could... weekends, holidays, vacations.
-What kind of man was Sean Nokes? -He was a good man.
He was too good to be shot dead by a couple of street punks.
Objection, Your Honor, statement is one of opinion not fact.
He was asked his opinion.
Overruled. Please proceed.
Mr. Ferguson...were you aware of any enemies he might have had?
Sean Nokes had no enemies.
Thank you, Mr. Ferguson. I have no further questions.
Is that a prison?
No, it's a juvenile facility for young boys.
Your function was what at this facility?
Standard stuff.
Keep the boys in line, make sure they got to classes on time....
Keep an eye out for trouble, put them down for the night.
As guards, were you and Mr. Nokes allowed to use force to...
...as you put it, "keep the boys in line"?
What...what do you mean, force?
Were you allowed to hit them?
Of course not.
Were any of the boys hit by any of the guards any time at the Wilkinson home?
I'm sure something like that may have happened. It was a...
...big place, but it wasn't the common practice.
Let's narrow the place down.
Did you or Mr. Nokes ever hit any of the boys under your care...
...at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
Would you like me to repeat the question?
No.
Then answer it, please. And remember, you're under oath.
A few of the boys who we considered to be discipline problems...
...were hit on occasion.
And how were they hit?
-I don't know what you mean. -A fist?
Open hand? Kick? Baton, maybe?
-Depends on what the situation called for. -Who determined that situation?
The guard on the scene.
That's a lot of power to have over a boy, isn't it?
-It came with the job, sir. -Did torture come with the job?
Boys were tortured, weren't they, Mr. Ferguson?
Define torture.
Well, let's define torture.
Cigarette burning...
...random beatings...
...solitary confinement with no food and no light.
-Say that took place? -On occasion.
-Who tortured them? -Guards.
Which guards?
I can't remember all of them.
Remember one.
This line of questioning better lead somewhere having to do with this case.
-It will, Your Honor. -For your sake.
Mr. Ferguson, was there ever any sexual abuse at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
Was there ever any sexual abuse at the Wilkinson Home for Boys?
Yes, I heard that there was.
I'm not asking what you heard.
I'm asking...what you...saw.
Please, Ferguson, don't do this.
I thought you boys liked it.
Yes, I saw.
Did you and Sean Nokes ever force yourself on any of the boys?
Did you and Sean Nokes ever rape...
...any of the boys at Wilkinson Home?
Counselors...approach.
I just fucked your little friend, Johnny.
Counselor, what the hell is going on here?
I guess I called the wrong character witness.
Counselor, I've given you wide latitude in calling this character witness...
...now, it's blown up in your face.
Please Mr. Ferguson, don't do this, please.
Mr. Ferguson, please answer the question.
-Mr. Ferguson, Sean Nokes... -I like it nice and slow.
...visited your home on numerous occasions, is that correct?
Did you ever leave Sean Nokes alone with your child?
A child?
Yes, in other words, would your ex-wife ever leave Sean Nokes alone...
...with your child?
There would be no reason for that.
There would be no reason for him to be alone with our child. It wouldn't come up.
Never came up? Did she ever voice any concern?
We have a statement explaining why she would never allow...
...Sean Nokes to be in a room alone with your son.
-Objection! -Sustained.
You ain't gonna touch me ever again!
Yes....
Yes?
Yes, what?
Yes, Sean Nokes had experiences with some boys.
-Were you there? -Yes.
-Did you observe these experiences? -Yes.
Did you do more than observe?
I was drinking then....
Were there any other guards around during these experiences?
Yes.
-With you and Mr. Nokes? -Yes.
-On more than one occasion? -Yes.
Mr. Ferguson, do you still think that Sean Nokes was a good man?
He was my friend.
A friend who raped and abused boys he was paid to look after?
I have no further questions.
I want this to be over.
Witness is excused.
Mr. Ferguson...
Mr. Ferguson, if I were you...
...l wouldn't stray too far from home.
People will want to talk to you. Do you understand?
Michael continued to swim both ends of the pool at the same time.
Playing prosecution and defense attorney, he exposed Ferguson for what he was...
...and still kept John and Tommy's motive for killing Nokes...
...hidden from the eyes of the court.
Little Caesar, who always kept a picture of his dead brother in his breast pocket...
...called in the Henry Addison loan.
It was a loan Addison couldn't afford to pay back.
And it gave Little Caesar the only reason he needed...
...to even his score for Rizzo.
Davenport wasted little time on following up on Adam Styler.
He was quickly arrested and charged with the shooting death...
...of the Queens drug dealer, and eight counts of corruption and bribery.
That's six for me, two for you.
Most people play this game in the summer.
It's easier to see the ball without tears in your eyes.
I give a fuck about most people!
You're gonna have a heart attack... and I'm not breathing in your mouth.
Well, I'm not going to marry you either.
John and Tommy smell something. They just don't know what.
A spic be living in the White House by the time it reaches their fucking brains!
Snyder came through big. He's not half bad.
The way you told it, I thought he could hardly stand up.
He's a drunk, but he's not a fool.
We only win when John and Tommy walk.
Then you'll have to get them out of the shooting hall.
You have to put them some place else. And only a witness does that for you.
Now, he's doing a Claude Rains so far. Nobody's seen the fucker!
What if he doesn't show? What if we have to go on the way we are?
The street is the only one that matters.
Court is for uptown people with suits, money...
...lawyers with three names. If you got cash, you can buy court justice.
But on the street, justice has no price.
She's blind where the judge sits, but she's not blind out here.
-Out here, the bitch got eyes. -We need both.
Then you need a witness.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are to disregard...
...the testimony of Ralph Ferguson.
His entire testimony is stricken from this record.
That concludes the people's case, Your Honor.
-The people rest? -The people rest.
Is the defense ready to proceed?
Your Honor, I don't... I don't know.
You don't know?
Well, I'm not sure that... we're waiting...
9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Present a witness or be prepared to sum up!
Everything good?
I found it very interesting attending morning Mass.
Your Honor, the defense calls Father Robert Carillo.
Father, do you know most of the people in your parish?
I know all the people in my parish.
Do you know the two defendants, John Reilly and Thomas Marcano?
-How long have you known them? -Since they were boys.
They were both students of mine.
Remain standing.
-How long have you been there? -It'll be twenty years this spring.
I'm a priest.
In the case of the people of the State of New York...
...against John Reilly and Thomas Marcano...
...do you swear the evidence you are about to give is the truth...
...the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?
I do.
Acting pastor, serve Mass daily, listen to confessions....
Do you recall where you were on the night of November first this past year?
-Yes, I do. -Where was that?
I was at the basketball game at the Garden: the Knicks vs. the Celtics.
And when did the Knicks game begin?
-About 7:30. -What time did it end?
Between 9:30 and 10:00.
Do you remember who won that game?
Sad to say, it was the Celtics.
Kevin McHale and Robert Parish were a little too much for our boys that night.
Even if it was All Saints Day.
Next time, you give me a call, I'll try my guy.
I'll try that.
Father Carillo, were you at the game alone?
No, I went there with two friends.
And who were those two friends?
John Reilly and Thomas Marcano.
-The two defendants? -Yes, the same two defendants.
Father Carillo, at 8:25 p.m., the time the police say...
...victim Sean Nokes was murdered...
...were you still with Mr. Reilly and Mr. Marcano at the basketball game?
Yes, I was.
And what time did you, Mr. Reilly, and Mr. Marcano part company?
It was around 10:30...a little later.
They dropped me off in front of the rectory, near where they'd picked me up.
Did the two defendants tell you where they were going?
No, they didn't, but I imagine, after a night spent with a priest...
...they went looking for the first open bar they could find.
So then, Father, if the two defendants were with you at 8:25...
...the night of the murder, they couldn't have shot and killed Sean Nokes...
...as the prosecution contends. Isn't that correct?
Not unless they shot him from the blue seats at the Garden.
He was not shot from there.
And he was not shot by those boys.
No further questions, Your Honor.
Your witness, Mr. Sullivan.
Thank you, Your Honor.
Did you buy the tickets for the game Father, or were they given to you?
-No, I bought them. -On the day of the game?
I went to the box office about a week before.
Did anyone know you were going to the game, other than the two defendants?
I don't think so.
Was anyone with you when you purchased the tickets?
No.
-No one saw you buy the tickets? -That's right.
-Did you get a receipt? -No, I didn't.
Paid by check? Mastercard? Visa?
No, I paid by cash. I usually pay for things in cash.
You care for the boys in your parish, don't you, Father?
Very much.
And there isn't anything you wouldn't do for them, am I right?
Anything in my power to do, I would make it a point.
Like a father, a good father, looking out for one of his sons.
Something along those lines, yes.
And is it true then, as a good father, you would want to protect them...
...from something they shouldn't have done.
As much as I would want to protect them from what someone else said they did.
-Like a murder? -Yes, like a murder.
Let me get this straight then. No one knew you were going to the game.
No one saw you at the game. No one saw you buy tickets for the game.
There's no record you even bought tickets.
You have no receipt for the tickets.
-Am I correct? -Yes, that's correct.
Then how do we really know, Father?
How do we know...
...you and the two defendants were at the game on the night of the murder?
I'm telling you as a witness... and as a priest. We were at the game.
Yes, as a priest, and a priest wouldn't lie? Am I right?
A priest with ticket stubs wouldn't need to lie.
I always keep the stubs.
Do you want to see them?
Why is that, Father? Why do you keep the stubs?
Because you never know when someone might want more than your word.
Has anyone ever questioned your word before today?
No. No one ever has. But there's a first time for everything.
I have no further questions. Thank you, Father.
You may step down.
I've never recovered from seeing Father Bobby take the stand and lie for us...
...to even the score for John and Tommy.
He didn't just testify for them, he testified against Wilkinson's...
...and the evil that had lived there for too long.
Still, I was sorry he had to do it.
With respect to the charge of murder in the second degree...
...do you find the defendant, John Reilly, guilty or not guilty?
Not guilty.
With respect to the charge of murder in the second degree...
...do you find the defendant, Thomas Marcano, guilty or not guilty?
Not guilty.
Thank you very much. This jury is discharged.
Hi, how are you? Could I get a hot dog?
Mustard and relish...a lot of relish.
Give him two napkins.
You did good in there, counselor.
So, what happens to you now?
What happens? I walk away.
Wait a few weeks, I'll hand them my notice.
After the way I handled this case...
...they won't be in a rush to keep me from the door.
So, you switch to the other side and work as a defense lawyer. The money's better.
There's always gonna be more bad guys than good, Mikey.
And can you imagine the work you'd get from John and Tommy's crew?
That's a house and a pool.
Not for me. I've seen all the law I want to see.
-It's time for something else. -Like what?
I'll let you know when I know.
You know, you're too old to play for the Yankees...
...and you're too young to take up golf.
Why are you shooting holes through all of my plans?
You gonna make me panic.
You'll work it out. You always have.
It's time for quiet, Shakes.
I just want to shut my eyes and not have to see the places I've been.
I'm weary...
I don't know.
Maybe I'll get lucky, forget I was even there.
Well, don't disappear on me, counselor.
I may need a good lawyer one day.
You can't afford a good lawyer.
I may need a good friend, though.
I'll find you when you do. Count on it.
Always have.
A full month had passed since the acquittal, and no one had made contact.
In those few weeks, our lives had reverted back to what they'd been...
...prior to the murder of Sean Nokes.
Carol had returned to her stack of social service files...
...helping troubled teens and single mothers.
John and Tommy went back to the streets, running the West Side Boys.
I was promoted from clerk to reporter trainee, covering the entertainment beat.
Michael, as he'd promised, resigned from his job...
...after working the losing end of a "can't miss case".
I don't know how to fucking thank you!
I can't believe what you did. I can't believe we got away with it!
It wasn't me. That was Mikey. It was all Mikey's plan.
When I first heard he was taking the case, I was gonna have him burned.
I figured, he's a friend, and if you've gotta be sent away on a murder rap...
...who better to do it?
Well, the way he was handling the case, I thought he sucked as a lawyer.
I started feeling sorry for the bastard.
Never feel sorry for a lawyer.
Get over here, counselor!
You are the real Count!
Alive and well and living in New York City!
You fucking maniac! All right!
What is this, a gay bar?
It was until you came in!
Why don't you give me a kiss to go with that hello?
Get out of the way.
Let's have a drink.
The Four Gladiators!
The "Four Gladiators", worst quartet to ever hold a Hell's Kitchen corner.
But what was that name that Shakes wanted to call it?
Genius wanted to call it, "The Count and His Cristos."
-Nice! -Well, you know, it's so sweet, isn't it?
Hey, that would've sent albums flying out of the store.
We weren't that bad. I mean, some people wanted to hear us sing.
That kid at the deaf school don't count!
One song for Carol.
-I retired a long time ago. -Come on, you mutts!
Don't you guys have to go out and shoot somebody?
We always got time for a song!
Just kidding, you know what I'm saying?
You pick it, Mikey. Nothing too slow.
Start us up.
-How many songs do you know? -One.
"Walk...like...a...man!"
"Walk like a man..."
"...fast as you can..."
"Walk...like a man, my son..."
"Go tell the world... forget about the girl!"
Don't forget about the girl!
On March 16, 1984...
John Reilly's bloated body was found face up in a tenement building...
...right next to the bottle of boiler gin that killed him.
At the time of his death, he was a suspect in five unsolved homicides.
He was two weeks past his 29th birthday.
Thomas Marcano died on July 26, 1985.
He was shot at close range 5 times.
The body lay undiscovered for more than a week.
There was a crucifix and a picture of Saint Jude in his pocket.
He was 29 years old.
Michael Sullivan lives in a small town in the English countryside...
...where he works part-time as a carpenter.
He no longer practices law, and he has never married.
He lives quietly and alone.
Carol still works for a Social Service agency and lives in Hell's Kitchen.
She has never married...
...but is a single mother supporting a growing 12-year-old son.
The boy, John Thomas Michael Martinez, loves to read...
...and is called Shakes by his mother.
It was our special night, and we held it for as long as we could.
It was our happy ending.
And the last time we would ever be together again.
The future lay sparkling ahead...
...and we thought we would know each other forever.
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