Better Call Saul (season 1)

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The following is a list of quotes from the first season of Better Call Saul.

Uno [1.01]

Saul/Jimmy: Oh, to be nineteen again! You with me, ladies and gentlemen? Do you remember nineteen? Let me tell you, the juices are flowing. The red corpuscles are corpuscling, the grass is green, and it's soft, and summer's gonna last forever. [chuckles; inhales sharply] Now, do you remember? Yeah, you do. [clears throat] But if you're being honest...I mean, well, really honest, you'll recall that you also had an underdeveloped nineteen-year-old brain. Me, personally, I...it...If I were held accountable for some of the stupid decisions I made when I was nineteen... [chuckling] Oh, boy, wow. And I bet if we were in church right now, I'd get a big "amen!" Which brings us to these three...Now, these three knuckleheads. And I'm sorry, boys, but that's what you are. They did a dumb thing. We're not denying that. However, I would like you to remember two salient facts. Fact one: Nobody got hurt, not a soul. Very important to keep that in mind. Fact two: Now, the prosecution keeps bandying this term "criminal trespass." Mr. Spinowzo, the property owner, admitted to us that he keeps most portions of his business open to the public both day and night. So, trespassing? That's a bit of a reach, don't you think, Dave? Here's what I know: These three young men, near honors students all, were feeling their oats one Saturday night, and they just went a little bananas. [chuckles] I don't know. Call me crazy, but I don't think they deserve to have their bright futures ruined by a momentary, minute, never-to-be-repeated lapse of judgment. Ladies and gentlemen, you're bigger than that.

[Leaving the courthouse parking lot, Jimmy pulls up to the attendant's booth and hands his ticket to the attendant]

Mike: [clears throat] Three dollars.

Jimmy: Uh, I’m validated, see the stickers?

Mike: Well, I see five stickers. You’re one shy. It’s three dollars.

Jimmy: [sighs] They gave me– look. [sighs again] I’m validated for the entire day, okay? Five stickers, six stickers – I don’t know from stickers, because I was in that court back there saving people’s lives, so... [Mike rolls his eyes]

Mike: Well, gee, that’s swell. And thank you for restoring my faith in the judicial system. Now you either pay the three dollars, or you go back inside and you get an additional sticker. [hands back Jimmy's parking ticket]

Jimmy: [mutters angrily] Son of a bitch. [scoffs] Fine. [takes parking ticket] You win. Hooray for you! [scoffs again; yells loudly at the driver behind him] Backing up! I have to back up! I need more stickers! Don’t have enough stickers! Thank you! Thank you, very nice!

[Jimmy backs up his car, then drives and parks it next to a fence and a yellow barrier. He gets out of the car and shuts the door.]

Jimmy: Employee of the Month over here! Yeaaah! [claps his hands] Hooray! Give him a medal! [to two police officers standing at a distance] Don’t do anything, fellas. Just relax, all right?

[Jimmy accidentally runs over a skateboarder on his way home. He panics and gets out of the car.]

Lars: Oh God, oh God, oh God! Oh my God, Cal! Cal! Look at me! Are you okay?! Say something! [to Jimmy] What did you do?!

Jimmy: I...

Lars: What did you do to my brother?! Why don't you look where you're going?!

Jimmy: I was making a turn, he came outta nowhere!

Lars: You freakin' hit him, man! You ran him over! You ran over my brother, [holds up video camera] I got the whole thing on video!

Cal: Listen! It was an accident. It was an accident, he... he didn't mean to. [tries to get up and yells in pain]

Lars: Is it broken? [to Jimmy] You broke his leg! Why are you driving around and not lookin', driving around breaking people's legs!

Jimmy: Okay, okay!

Lars: Somebody call the cops!

Jimmy: Don't–don't call the police! Don't call the police!

Lars: [to two gardeners in Spanish] Policia! I'll call them myself. [starts dialing his phone]

Jimmy: Don't call the police!

Lars: Don't call the cops?

Jimmy: No!

Lars: How are you gonna fix this? What are you gonna do to make things right?

Jimmy: [long pause] I don't know, fellas. What can I do to make it right?

[The skateboarder twins look at each other briefly]

Cal: I don't know. [pause] Five hundred dollars.

Jimmy: Five hundred bucks? [another pause; Jimmy kicks Cal in the shin]

Cal: OW! What the hell, man?!

Jimmy: Listen, Starlight Express, I’m gonna give you a 9.6 for technique, 0.0 for choice of victim! I’m a lawyer! Furthermore, [points at his car] does this steaming pile of crap scream payday to you, huh?! The only way that entire car is worth $500 is if there’s a $300 hooker sitting in it! Now, let’s talk about what you owe me for the windshield.

[Cal and Lars grab their skateboards and run away from Jimmy]

Jimmy: I'll take a check!

Jimmy: You have meddled with the primal forces of nature, Mr. Hamlin, AND I WON’T HAVE IT!

Brenda: [over the speaker phone] Do you want me to call security?

Kim: It’s okay, Brenda. We got it.

Jimmy: [to the other HHM partners] Hey, Jack. Hey, Nate. Hey, Aaron.

Howard: What can we do for you, Jimmy?

Jimmy: I'm sorry. It’s... It’s this table. [walks to where Howard is sitting and shows him a ripped-up check] You can tell me what this $26,000 is supposed to be for.

Howard: That’s money for Chuck. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Jimmy: A measly 26 grand? [scoffs] Jesus, you’re like Peter Minuit with the Indians. Throw in some beads and shells while you’re at it.

Howard: It's just a start, there'll be more. [pause] Unless you’re just gonna tear them all up.

Jimmy: And why was it made out to me? Why not Chuck?

Howard: Can he make his way to the bank? [pause] I just assumed it was best to have the money go through you. We can do it any way you want.

Jimmy: This isn’t going away, Howard. What Chuck did for this firm–and damn near single-handedly, one-third of this place–belongs to him. What do you got, twelve chairs here? Four of these chairs are Chuck's. [points at table lamps] You got five of these light thingamajigs? One and two-thirds are Chuck's! Yeah, six... How many danishes, six danishes?

Howard: You can have all the danishes you want, Jimmy.

Jimmy: No, no! They’re Chuck’s danishes! And he isn’t greedy, so he’ll just take two... plus $17 million. In that ballpark. I mean, we’ll know once we get the accountants poking around here. Until then, no penny ante checks trying to make it look like Chuck still works here. He doesn’t. He never will again. It’s time to do right by him and cash him out.

Howard: So these are Chuck’s own wishes that you’re conveying?

Jimmy: This is what's best for him.

Howard: So he personally told you that it’s his wish to withdraw from the firm? [beat] See, that would surprise me.

Jimmy: It's been nearly a year since he stepped foot in here. I’m just doing what’s in his best interest.

Howard: So am I. And I, for one, believe he’s gonna lick this thing. Until then, his office is just how he left it. His secretary’s still on payroll. If Chuck can call this an extended sabbatical, then so can we. He’s that important to us.

Jimmy: You know what? Let’s let a jury figure it out. [sighs; sarcastically] They’re gonna love you, Howard. You’re so down to earth! And relatable!

[Jimmy turns to leave the conference room, but turns around]

Jimmy: AND YOU... WILL... ATONE! [pause; everyone stares at Jimmy] It’s Ned Beatty from Network. For Christ’s sake, guys. [walks out]

[Jimmy asks Chuck to cash out of HHM, which he refuses]

Chuck: You know I'm gonna beat this. You know I'm gonna get better.

Jimmy: Yeah, sure.

Chuck: Well, then there's nothing more to talk about! I will beat this. Ergo, a falsis principiis proficisci. Meaning...

Jimmy: That's the one about false principles, but it's not—

Chuck: You proceed from false principles. Your argument is built on quicksand, therefore it collapses.

Jimmy: You're not listening.

Chuck: Fine. Let's take this to its logical conclusion. In order to pay out my share, suppose my partners are forced to liquidate the firm. Then what?

Jimmy: That's their problem.

Chuck: My clients are out there in the cold! My cases are scattered to the winds, 126 people lose their jobs. What happens to your cronies in the mailroom? The assistants, paralegals, the janitorial staff? All of them out on the street. Your friend Kim? A promising career, over and done with.

Jimmy: Hamlin owes you everything. You built that place singlehandedly while he was out at Four Hills, working on his bunker shot.

Chuck: Let's not exaggerate. I helped.

Jimmy: You "helped". [snorts]

Chuck: All the more reason not to tear it down just for a little bit of cash!

Jimmy: Chuck. I'm going under, okay? For the third time, with these bullcrap contract counsel-

Chuck: Bullcrap?

Jimmy: Bullcrap, pissant, PD cases at 700 bucks a shot!

Chuck: Public defender work is some of the best experience there is.

Jimmy: I just had a case, Chuck, with three clients. Arraignment, voir dire, jury trail, the whole nine yards. You know what I took home? Seven hundred bucks! I might as well head down to skid row and sell plasma!

Chuck: You're representing people who have nowhere else to turn. The money is beside the point-

Jimmy: Money is not "beside the point", money is the point!

Chuck: I keep telling you, have patience. There are no shortcuts. Do good work and the clients-

Jimmy: The clients will come. Yeah, I know. Okay. Hand to God, I wasn't gonna say this, but you are broke. I can't carry both of us. I've been trying like hell, but I can't.

Chuck: You're saying- what, you think you have to provide for me? I never asked you that.

Jimmy: You didn't have to ask, okay? I've been doing my damnedest, but the day of reckoning is here. Soon, Chuck, you're gonna be out of the street with all the electromagnetism in the world raining down on you. Now, please, please, picture that, then tell me that money is beside the point.

Chuck: This is what has you all worked up?

Jimmy: Yeah.

Chuck: Jimmy, there's nothing to worry about. [picks up a check from his desk and hands it to him] Here.

Jimmy: What is this?

Chuck: A stipend. There's gonna be one every week.

Jimmy: $857 from Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill?

Chuck: I'm gonna pay him back. Every penny. I didn't want to take anything, but Howard was very insistent... and I'm gonna pay you back, too.

[Jimmy sees that, contrary to what Howard told him, he visited Chuck]

Jimmy: Hamlin was here?

Chuck: It's not like I'm a recluse.

Jimmy: Wha–He put his cell phone in the mailbox?

Chuck: He understands the situation.

Jimmy: He grounded himself?!

Chuck: Of course.

Jimmy: And the two of you agreed that, since as everybody knows you're going back to work any day now, that the firm should help you make ends meet?

Chuck: That's correct, minus the sarcasm!

Jimmy: Hamlin's making you a chump!

Chuck: I'm going to get better! I'm gonna go back to work, and I'm picking up where I left off!

Jimmy: Let me tell you about a young guy. Actually, he's about your age. He lived a long way from here, in a town called Cicero, Illinois. And in Cicero, he was the man. I mean, when he strolled down the street, all the corner boys would give him the high five, all the finest babes would smile at him and hope that he would smile back. They called him Slippin' Jimmy, and everybody wanted to be his friend.

Lars: "Slippin' Jimmy?" What the hell kind of name is that?

Jimmy: Well, I'll tell you now. Winters in Cicero are murder. You guys grown up out here in the golden west – you don't know, okay? I'm talking cold that'll freeze the snot right in your nose. I'm talking wind that'll cut through your jacket and carve you up like a Ginsu knife. In fact, most folks in Cicero were scared of winter. But not Jimmy. Jimmy waited around all summer. And when September finally rolled around, he'd feel that first cold wind come sweeping off Lake Michigan. He knew it was coming. Was it Christmas? Was it Kwanzaa? Better. It was slip-and-fall season. Soon as it was cold enough, he'd find a nice smooth patch of ice. State Street was good, Michigan Avenue was better. He'd pick a spot, wait for it to get busy, and he'd walk out on the ice and boom! He would diff it so hard, people would come running from five blocks away.

Cal: Yeah, but did he collect?

Jimmy: Did he collect? Slippin' Jimmy had it dialed in. One good fall, he'd clear six, eight grand. That'd keep him in Old Milwaukee and Maui Wowie right through Labor Day.

[Jimmy is standing at a street corner with two skateboarders, planning a slip and fall scheme]

Jimmy: Betsy Kettleman’s her name. Every weekday between 2:25 and 2:50, she comes through here on her way to pick up her kids at Kit Carson Elementary. Now, you need a place where she’s gonna slow down, am I right?

Lars: Yeah.

Jimmy: All right. Well. There you go. She slows down. She hangs a right. You come shooting out of there. You did what you did to me. You go ass over teakettle. You make it a blue-ribbon special. When she gets out of the car, you’re sufferin' St. Sebastian, right? You’re the hammer, okay? You get in her face. You scare the bejesus out of her. Give me your phone. [Jimmy inputs his number]

Lars: It’s kind of busy here. Don’t you think?

Jimmy: Well, witnesses are good. Witnesses are pressure. All right? Now, once you’ve got her good and rattled, then you call for an ambulance. But really, you’re calling for me. I'm number one on your speed dial, right next to your weed dealer. [Jimmy hands back the phone] You call me. I hotfoot it over here. I just "happen" to be driving by. I stop to see what the trouble is. And this is the most important part – you don’t know me. We’ve never met. You got it?

Skateboarders: Sure.

Jimmy: Okay. Now, I’m Mrs. K’s white knight. We go mano a mano. You light into me, okay? Get nasty. And no touching. Leave the hair alone. But otherwise, you know, open season. Yell. Stomp. Call me a douchebag. I’m gonna play it cool. Give me back some of the razzmatazz and once she’s seen the fireworks, you fold like a lawn chair – happy ending.

Lars: When do we get our money?

Jimmy: After.

Cal: After.

Jimmy: After. You get paid when I get paid. I’m the rising tide that raises all dinghies. Now, pop quiz – what’s the car?

Cal: Mercury Sable wagon. Baby-poop brown.

Jimmy: Okay. Do you know me?

Skateboarders: No.

Jimmy: Damn straight. Go with God.

Mijo [1.02]

Tuco: [pointing a gun at Jimmy] Talk.

Jimmy: I'm gonna make an educated guess what happened here. My two clients, Frick and Frack, the mopheads, were in a simple traffic accident. A minor fender-bender, but maybe they were on the wrong side of the street or they didn't look both ways. It could happen to anyone. My clients, exhibiting extremely poor judgement, followed your grandmother to this delightful, well-tended home. Now, at this juncture, I am deducing that they said or did something that... crossed a line, and you–with some justification–you put them in their place. Based on the "salsa" stain there, could've gone a couple ways. The bottom line, not to be morbid, but if they're dead, uh, I'm guessing that I'm... [pause] I'm gonna–Yeah, I'm gonna go with glass half-full here and say they're not. My point is, if they're alive, why kill us? Why, because of a misunderstanding? Our own stupidity? Why mess up your lovely abuelita's place? Why jump to the nuclear option? See, I'm saying "keep it simple." I will collect my moronic clients, and poof, we are gone. Neither you nor your lovely abuelita will ever lay eyes on us ever again, guaranteed! Signed, sealed and delivered... assuming, you know, that they're still breathing.

Tuco: [pause] Wow. You got a mouth on you.

Jimmy: Thank you.

[At the desert, Tuco interrogates Jimmy who is on his knees, pleading for his life.]

Tuco: You know what I smell. I smell lies. I smell pork. [Tuco places a wire cutter on Jimmy's finger]

Jimmy: No. That’s not necessary.

Tuco: Okay, we know you’re with the heat. The question is, who? Local? FBI?

Jimmy: No, no, no.

Tuco: DEA?

Jimmy: No, I’m a lawyer. Just reach in my pocket right now – right there!

[Tuco takes a matchbook out of Jimmy's pocket, looks at it and throws it away.]

Tuco: Truth.

Jimmy: That is the truth! I’m a lawyer! Guys, I passed the bar! Ask me anything! Not contract law, okay? I’m down at the court every day! People know me. I’m a known quantity – I am!

[Tuco applies more pressure on the wire cutter.]

Jimmy: I’m – I’m Special Agent Jeffrey Steele, FBI.

Tuco: FBI?

Jimmy: FBI. I’m undercover, okay? You got me. I’m the tip of the spear, and releasing me would be a smart move.

[Jimmy attempts to convince Tuco to spare the skateboarders]

Jimmy: Think about their mother.

Tuco: [pause; spits on the ground] I SPIT ON THEIR MAMA!

Jimmy: She is a sweet little lady. She—she’s a widow. She works hard all day, every day—just like her mother before her—from dawn til dusk! Scrubbing the floors of rich people. She needs a cane to walk, you know? She’s got arthritis, and still she works every day. What, for herself? No! No, for them! For these two! They’re her boys, they’re the apples of her eye. You say they don’t deserve her? [shrugs] Maybe so. But... they’re all she’s got. Now... you turn them inside out, I want you to think about what happens to her.

Tuco: No, [points at the twins with his knife] that’s on them. They should’ve thought about that.

Jimmy: But when I was at your abuelita’s place, you were gonna let them go. Way I see it, that’s because you’re tough, but you’re fair. You’re all about justice.

Tuco: That’s what I am saying. Justice.

Jimmy: These–these two shit-for-brains? These two big-mouths? You–you already beat the living hell out of them. Do you think they’re ever gonna forget today? Never! Ten years from now, they’re still gonna be crapping their jockeys.

Tuco: It’s not enough.

Jimmy: Okay, okay. Then let’s talk proportionality. They’re guilty–Oh, agreed. Now you have to decide what’s the right sentence?

Tuco: Like a judge.

Jimmy: Like a judge. Ever heard of the Code of Hammurabi? Let the punishment fit the crime, eye for an eye?

Tuco: Eye for an eye. You want me to blind them.

Jimmy: No, no. All they did was trash-talk.

Tuco: So, I cut their tongues out!

Jimmy: Wait. See, I’m advising that you make the punishment fit the crime.

Tuco: Punishment fit the crime. Columbian neckties. I cut their throats, and then I PULL THEIR LYING TONGUES THROUGH THE SLITS! BIZNATCH!!

Jimmy: Or you–you could give them black eyes.

Tuco: Black eyes? [laughs] That ain’t nothing!

No Doze: That one there, homes. He already got a black eye, fool.

Tuco: [turns to No Doze] Stop. Helping.

Jimmy: Or you could sprain their ankles.

Tuco: Sprain?

Jimmy: They’re–they’re skateboarders, right? That–that’s how they run their scam. They can’t skate. You–you hit them where they live.

Tuco: I ain’t spraining nothing, bitch. I’m gonna break their arms. And I’m gonna break their legs.

Jimmy: Arms? When–when did we get on to arms? Let's...

Tuco: I’m cutting their legs off.

Jimmy: But–we could go that way. But… we were talking about breaking. I think we’re heading the wrong direction.

Tuco: Okay. Break their legs.

Jimmy: How many legs?

Tuco: Two. They got two legs.

Jimmy: One leg. Each.

Tuco: One leg each?

Jimmy: They’re... One leg each, that’s a total of two legs. Uh, hey, look. They can’t skateboard for six months, and they are scared of you forever. You show everybody that you are the man, but that you’re fair! That you’re just!

[Tuco rolls his sleeves up like he's about to beat Jimmy up, then holds out his right hand]

Tuco: One leg each.

Jimmy: [looks at the twins, then shakes Tuco's hand] That's tough, but that's fair.

Tuco: [to Gonzo and No Doze] Alright, lay them out! I ain’t got all day! It’s hot as shit out here!

[Tuco proceeds to break the skateboarders’ legs]

[Jimmy helps the skateboarders onto wheelchairs.]

Cal: You—you are—you are the worst lawyer! The worst lawyer ever!

Jimmy: Hey, I just talked you down from a death sentence to six months' probation. I'm the best lawyer ever.

Mike: You're light on stickers.

Jimmy: Come on!

Mike: Five dollars.

Jimmy: Are you serious?

Mike: You've got four, you need five.

Jimmy: There's four ninety-minute stickers there.

Mike: You've been here six hours and five minutes.

Jimmy: It takes ten minutes to walk down here!

Mike: Five dollars, or you get another sticker.

Jimmy: [takes parking ticket, backs up his car and gets out] This makes you feel real important, huh?! Not enough stickers, more stickers?!

[Later the next day, Jimmy runs low on stickers yet again and vents his anger at Mike]

Jimmy: You're like a troll under a bridge!

[Mike shuts the sliding glass window and ignores Jimmy]

Jimmy: "You must have the stickers, or you won't pass!" Troll alert here! Don't feed it!

Nacho [1.03]

Jimmy: Hey, you asked for me, and I have come. I want to tell you this was a wise move – very smart, because I’m here to help – everyone – all parties, but mostly you. Uh, those two detectives – they just gave me an earful. And what they were telling me is – it’s problematic. I’m gonna pitch it back to you so I know we’re on the same page. A neighbor lady saw a suspicious van parked across the street from the Kettleman’s house two nights in a row. She wrote down the license plate. It was your license plate. Cops tracked your van and you, searched it, and found blood on the floor. So... here we are. Um... um... they’re calling the FBI in on this, [Jimmy sits down] which makes it federal. That’s a bad thing, Nacho. That’s – that’s very bad, but if you tell me where the family is, if – if you give them up now – full cooperation, deep remorse – I feel very good about knocking your sentence down to the minimum – 18 years. They take this good-behavior thing very seriously, so start here, right here. Tell me the family is okay. Tell me the kids are okay. [beat] You want to tell me your thoughts and weigh in? Does this sound like a plan that you can get behind?

Nacho: You miserable piece of shit. You set me up.

Jimmy: I what?

Nacho: You gave my score to another crew, and now you’re setting me up.

Jimmy: I – what the what? Did the cops beat you? ‘cause you’re talking like a person with head trauma.

Nacho: You think you’re funny?

Jimmy: What are you saying? Are you saying that you have nothing to do with this? That was your van outside the house. You weren’t there?

Nacho: Yeah I was there. I was casing the place, figuring out the best way in and out, what time they went to bed – all that. They were fine when I left. That’s it.

Jimmy: You have nothing to do with the Kettlemans?

Nacho: I was never in the house.

Jimmy: What about the blood in your van?

Nacho: They DNA my ride, all they’re gonna find is the blood of your skate-rat twins, plus whatever piss and shit you leaked out when you were in there. Nobody's been in the back of that van since.

Jimmy: I... I don’t understand.

Nacho: Here’s what I understand, councilor. I told my plan to one other person. One – you. Now here I am, under arrest. Go figure.

Jimmy: I don’t know anything about a setup or another crew.

Nacho: You know what? I don’t even care. The cops are out there right now, poking into my business, and if they find something on me or my partners, for real, it’s gonna be bad for you – really bad.

Jimmy: Bad? Bad as in?

Nacho: You get me out of here today... or you’re a dead man.

[Jimmy once again doesn't have enough money or validation stickers when he shows up at the booth]

Jimmy: Dammit, here! I'm in a real rush. I didn't have time to get the validation.

Mike: Fine, nine bucks. [hands back Jimmy's parking ticket]

Jimmy: [takes ticket from Mike and looks for cash] I...I don't have it. I have five. Please!

Mike: You know the drill, money or validation.

Jimmy: Look, this is an emergency, okay?! A serious, serious emergency! I have to get outta here! I promise, on the souls of my forefathers, I will get you the stickers when I come back! I will get you extra if you just let me go! [Mike ignores him; angrily] FINE! FINE! You’re gonna make me walk back and get the stickers?! I will walk back and get the stickers!

Mike: I’m not making you do anything. Those are the rules.

Jimmy: [still angry] Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night. [Jimmy sees Mike not paying attention, so he reaches over and presses the button in the booth which raises the cross arm. It goes up and Jimmy drives away fast] SCREW YOU, GEEZER!

Jimmy: I called the Kettlemans after I hung up with you, I gave them a warning call.

Kim: A warning call?

Jimmy: Yeah, I was worried that my guy Varga was going after their money. And he was. He was gonna rip them off. I deduced it from a conversation that we had. It was lawyer to client, so there was, you know, confidentiality issues. But I called the Kettlemans anonymously to warm them.

Kim: Anonymously? You didn’t – Oh, god, you didn’t – you didn’t do the sex-robot voice, did you?

Jimmy: I did, with the tube and whole thing, which probably scared the living shit out of them, and they took off, which, you know, file that under “unintended consequence,” but you – you believe me now?

Kim: Um...

Jimmy: Great. Now we have to find them. I mean – or, better yet, get the cops to let Varga go because right now my ass is on the highway to the danger zone.

Kim: Well, why are you in danger?

Jimmy: Nacho Varga – he didn’t kidnap the family. But he’s a bad guy. He’s a very bad guy. And if the cops keep pushing him, they’re gonna find something. And when that happens, Nacho blames me, and then his guys turn me into a meat piñata.

Kim: Jimmy, tell the police.

Jimmy: No, there’s n– there’s no way I’m gonna rat on this guy. I will never be safe. No, I have to convince the cops that I’m right, get them to stop looking at Nacho, and catch the Kettlemans on the run.

Kim: And if they never catch them?

Jimmy: The Kettlemans? Well, you have met these people, right? They’re – they’re not exactly masterminds, right? They will be caught if the cops are looking for them. So tell them to, would you? The FBI, too – I heard they’re getting in on this.

Kim: Why would the FBI listen to me?

Jimmy: Well, Hamlin – they’ll listen to him, right? APD, at least. You – you talk to Howard. You explain things to him. He has clout with these people. [Kim sighs] What? Is – is that a no or...

Kim: Hamlin will never agree to it. The Kettlemans are our clients. This would mean incriminating them.

Jimmy: Oh, you – you see? That’s why people hate lawyers.

Kim: It’s Hamlin’s call, and Hamlin will never agree. And even if it were up to me, you know I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I just...

Jimmy: I get it. [Jimmy turns and leaves]

Kim: Where are you going?

Jimmy: I’m gonna go talk to Nacho. I’ll try to make him see reason. To beg!

Jimmy: Hey, hold up. How come you let me off the hook back there?

Mike: I'm going back to work. Why don't you quit while you're ahead and go on your way?

Jimmy: No, I refuse to believe it's because you have something resembling a heart inside your body.

Mike: You're not gonna have a heart inside your body in about five seconds.

Jimmy: Okay, don't tell me. I already know why you did it.

Mike: Yeah? Why's that?

Jimmy: 'Cause you believe me. That family kidnapped themselves.

Mike: All right, I believe you.

Jimmy: I knew it! I knew it! Finally, someone believes me! Why do you believe me?

Mike: I heard the details, your story makes sense.

Jimmy: Of course it does! Devil's advocate—like the cops said, the Kettlemans' cars are still at their house, there's no record of them leaving, how'd they get out of the country?

Mike: They didn't. Odds are they didn't get out of the neighborhood.

Jimmy: Wait...come again?

Mike: Look, when I was still on the job back in Philly, we had this case...

Jimmy: Whoa, hold up, "on the job," as in you were a cop, "on the job"?

Mike: This bookie disappeared after the Super Bowl. Cowboys-Steelers? Took $6 million in bets, skipped town when things didn't go his way. Now, everybody thought he was on the beach in the Bahamas or dead in the Jersey Pine Barrens—wasn't the case. He was two doors down from where he lived, in a foreclosed house. Hid there for six months without anyone suspecting.

Jimmy: But...but why? Why not run?

Mike: That's what everyone expects. It's human nature to want to stay close to home. And if this Kettleman figured out how to do it, that's what he did. Nobody wants to leave home.

Hero [1.04]

[The Kettlemans offers Jimmy a bribe to avoid talking about their embezzled money]

Betsy: Please, just don't tell anyone about the money.

Jimmy: I can't take a bribe.

Betsy: Who would know?

Craig: We won't tell anyone.

Betsy: Yeah, take it.

Jimmy: I can't take it.

Craig: Please? Didn't you say that you wanted to help us?

Betsy: Just pretend you never saw the money. How hard is that? Take it. Take it.

Jimmy: I c—I can't take a bribe... but you know what? I can take a retainer.

Betsy: A retainer?

Jimmy: Yeah, for my services... as your lawyer?

Craig: You're not our lawyer.

Jimmy: Well, not yet. Look, I know HHM is shiny and it's slick and it's chock-full of lawyers, and compared to them I'm like a kiddie lemonade stand trying to compete with Walmart, but here's the thing: what are you gonna get from me that you're not gonna get from those other guys? Passion. Commitment. Ask yourself this: who found you? I don't see Howard Hamlin ruining his $300 Gucci loafers out here. If you're with me, you're my number one client—morning, noon or night. You call me, I'm there. I would be singularly devoted to you.

[The Kettlemans shake their heads]

Jimmy: Wh- Why not?

Betsy: I'm sorry. You're just...

Jimmy: Just what?

Betsy: You're the kind of lawyer guilty people hire.

[Nacho has been released now that he's been cleared of involvement in the Kettlemans' camping trip]

Jimmy: Well... I believe I did more than what you asked of me, so, uh, that would make us square, yes? Great. You need a ride?

Nacho: Camping? You expect me to believe that shit?

Jimmy: Yeah, I know it. The things people do, huh?

Nacho: They decide to go camping right after I run my little offer by you?

Jimmy: Could be argued that all of life is one great coincidence.

Nacho: Somebody told those people to, um, go camping. Somebody warned them.

Jimmy: They’re very woodsy. And between you and me, they’re pretty rash when it comes to the decision-making. I mean, they're not really the plan-ahead types.

Nacho: Yeah, I'd cut the cute attitude right about now if I were you. You ratted on me. There will be consequences.

Jimmy: Hey, if somebody warned the Kettlemans, it was probably somebody who was worried about those kids.

Nacho: You know how much trouble you caused me?

Jimmy: You didn't need any help getting caught, okay? The neighbor ID'd you. You were sloppy. Any trouble you might have... that's on you. Not to mention the blood in your van. Here's a thought... Ajax, Formula 409! You have no idea the tap dance I had to give those cops to get you out of here. You gave them probable cause out the wazoo. Now, and whoever that somebody is who may have warned the Kettlemans got them out of there before you did anything even more stupid. You should be thanking this good samaritan. Because whoever he is, he did you a favor.

[During a salon visit, Kim hands Jimmy a cease-and-desist from HHM due to his billboard]

Jimmy: How pissed was he?

Kim: Well, his head didn't actually explode, but y'know, pretty damn pissed. Like, "this won't end well for you" pissed.

Jimmy: Yeah. How 'bout that?

Kim: Jimmy. This is serious.

Jimmy: I know.

Kim: Do you? I mean, what the hell is with that billboard? I know you have a problem with Hamlin, but I–I just don't get your angle here. Aren't you trying to build your own law practice? Instead, you're spending God knows how much money turning yourself into a little Hamlin clone. I mean, why are you making this personal?

Jimmy: It's not personal.

Kim: It is so personal. It is completely and totally personal.

Jimmy: No, no, no, it's not, nope.

Kim: Yes! Yes, it—Stop trying to pretend.

Jimmy: I can advertise, can't I? What, do I have to clear everything past the great Howard?

Kim: Yes, you can advertise, Jimmy. All you want. That billboard is not advertising, that is a declaration of war.

Jimmy: "Declaration of war?"

Kim: It's right at Hamlin's exit! You know he drives by it everyday!

Jimmy: It's business. I'm building a brand.

Kim: You're ripping off a brand. There is nothing original in that ad. It certainly doesn't represent Jimmy McGill.

Jimmy: Hey. Alright, now he fired the first shot. Okay? Trying to keep me from using my name? My own name, Kim?

Kim: I get that... but this? You're better that this.

Jimmy: I'm better than this?

Kim: Yes.

Jimmy: I'm better than this?! I'M BE—?

Kim: You are!

Jimmy: Well, you're better than that schmuck, Hamlin!

Kim: Oh, come on, Jimmy...

Jimmy: You could work anywhere! You could be somewhere they appreciate you. You know? Where they see how valuable you are. Where, I dunno, maybe they care about you?! [pause] Forget it, okay? If Hamlin wants to come after me, he knows where I am. I'll be ready, guns blazing.

[Jimmy and Howard are appearing before a judge, due to Jimmy erecting a billboard that deliberately imitates HHM's logo and branding]

Jimmy: Your Honor, I'm a humble solo practitioner, merely trying to ply my trade in an aggressive and evolving marketplace.

Howard: As I've argued repeatedly, this is trademark infringement. Mr. McGill's new logo is an absolute copy of ours.

Jimmy: I think it falls firmly under fair use.

Howard: Fair use? You're clearly profiting, so fair use doesn't apply.

Jimmy: It—There are only so many fonts out there. Does Mr. Hamlin outright own them all?

Howard: No, but we've been using this particular font for 12 years now, and it, in concert with our tri-rectangle graphic and Hamlindigo Blue, constitutes a trademarked brand identifier.

Jimmy: Whoa, whoa. Back up. Hamlindigo Blue?

Howard: Yes. That is our trademarked name.

Jimmy: Holy crap. You seriously named a color "Hamlindigo"? That is... yikes.

Howard: "Yikes"? From the man dressed exactly like me. Your Honor, I feel like I'm in the mirror routine with Groucho Marx, like we should be standing, waving our arms at each other.

Jimmy: Really? I don't see it.

Howard: In addition, the name McGill appears in both logos, which, I believe, Mr. McGill is hoping to further confuse potential clients.

Jimmy: So I can't advertise under my own name now? I'm to be penalized 'cause I happen to share a name with one of HHM's partners? You can't take my name from me.

Judge: The name is not the problem here, Mr. McGill.

Jimmy: Uh, Mr. Hamlin certainly seems to think so. I mean, he wants me to change my name 'cause he claims that-that—what—it's some kind of threat to his business? Your Honor, this is restraint of trade, okay? Whatever happened to the free market, huh? No, Hamlin here wants you to tell—

Judge: Okay, okay, I've... Enough. Mr. McGill, I've heard enough. Alright, yes, you are within your rights to advertise using your own name. However, in my estimation, the billboard clearly and intentionally duplicates elements of the Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill logo. You're actively copying their established brand for your own gain. I don't see any other reasonable explanation.

Jimmy: Your Honor, I—

Judge: Jimmy, Jimmy. Wise up. The billboard must come down within 48 hours.

Chuck: I don't see the Journal here.

Jimmy: [pulls up the Wall Street Journal] Here you go.

Chuck: No, the Albuquerque Journal. It's not here.

Jimmy: Oh, yeah. I didn't see it outside.

Chuck: It wasn't out there? It's always out there.

Jimmy: I didn't see it. Maybe they forgot to deliver it, maybe some kids grabbed it.

Chuck: [sarcastically] Because if there's one thing kids love, it's local print journalism.

Jimmy: I don't know what to tell ya, you got a ton of reading material here. Look, hey, Financial Times. I know Albuquerque is a hub of global intrigue, but you think that'll tide you over?

Alpine Shepherd Boy [1.05]

Richard "Ricky" Sipes: Jim, I saw you on the TV, that billboard thing. And I had me a pair of insights. Insight the first: You ain't afraid to put yourself out there. And insight the second: You believe in the real America—freedom, self-sufficiency.

Jimmy: I do. I... I really do.

Ricky: When I see a man like you driving that foreign shitbox of a car...

Jimmy: Well, see, actually, it's...

Ricky: ...it's a sign a good man can't get ahead today. It's a damned travesty. That's what it is.

Jimmy: Well that may be, Ricky, but, uh... I refuse to consider myself a victim.

Ricky: You know, we are once again at a point in our history where the fly-swatting hand of government is crushing the spirit of entrepreneurship. Taxes, OSHA requirements, the INS poking their big, fat nose into every mother-loving hire. It's damned oppressive.

Jimmy: It's tragic. It's un-American.

Ricky: Jim, I think you are just the lawyer I need, 'cause I got me a case—major—I say, a major case. Are you ready to clear your calendar?

Jimmy: Ricky, I'm all ears.

Ricky: I want to secede from the United States. Now, I got 1,100 acres of property here, self-sustaining with solar power and wells, a sovereign state immune to the business-killing regulations of the country in which it geographically lies. We are going to be America's Vatican City.

Jimmy: Ricky... I'm your man. Yeah, let's do this. Let's show 'em all. Yee-haw!

Ricky: Yee-haw!

Jimmy: Yee-haw! [Ricky highfives Jimmy] Yes! We are doing this! Ah. Now, it's not gonna be easy, sir. I mean, the government is gonna fight us tooth and nail. We could end up in the Supreme Court—I'm talking thousands of man-hours—I mean, years of effort.

Ricky: Are you ready for that?

Jimmy: Me? I say bring 'em on.

Ricky: Let's talk turkey. What's your rate?

Jimmy: $450 an hour.

Ricky: The hell with hourly. I want you on retainer. How about $1 million even—$500,000 up front and $500,000 when we're done?

Jimmy: A million? That seems... fair.

Ricky: Would you like that in cash? [takes out stacks of bills from the safe]

Jimmy: Uh. [flips a stack of bills and sees Ricky's face on them] Well...

Ricky: Tax-free and backed by the full faith and credit of the sovereign Sandia Republic.

Jimmy: It's, uh...

Ricky: Son... You are getting in on the ground floor.

[Cut to Jimmy driving away from the house at full speed]

[Roland Jaycox shows Jimmy into his garage]

Jimmy: So, what do we got?

Roland Jaycox: Uh, I feel silly asking this. Yeah. But before I show you my invention, would you mind signing a non-disclosure agreement?

Jimmy: You got it. No problem. [signs the agreement]

Roland: It's my idea of a lifetime. If Fisher-Price or Playskool ever got their hands on this...

Jimmy: No worries.

Roland: You ready? [lifts the tarp off an ordinary looking toilet]

Jimmy: I may have seen one of these before.

Roland: Not like this. This one has this little unit I've added. This is my invention. Do you have children?

Jimmy: No.

Roland: My wife and I have two boys, four and six. And let me tell you, toilet-training them? Nightmare, both times. They just didn't want to use the commode! So I wired a motion sensor to a voice chip and, well, no sense getting all technical. But it's all about positive reinforcement. Meet Tony the Toilet Buddy. And when you sit down to do your business, this is how he works.

[Roland drops a wooden block in the toilet bowl]

Tony the Toilet Buddy: Oh, yeah! That's the way! [Roland drops another wooden block in the toilet bowl] Gosh, you're big! You're so big! My goodness! Look at you! [another wooden block gets dropped in] Fill me up, Chandler! Put it in me!

Roland: Chandler's my youngest. Loves it.

Jimmy: Huh. [watches Roland drop another wooden block]

Tony the Toilet Buddy: Give it to me, Chandler! I want it all! Mmm! Ahhh!

Roland: Anyway, it goes on from there. You get the picture.

Jimmy: Yeah, I, uh... Yeah.

Roland: So, what do you think?

Jimmy: It's a little... sexual, maybe?

Roland: Sexual? What—what does that...?

Jimmy: Suggestive, maybe—maybe that's a better word? Look, I'm not—I'm not saying this thing won't make you rich. I mean, some of your wealthier Pacific Rim nations, they'll love this, the crazy bastards.

Roland: I created this for children. Children, understand?

Jimmy: Well, hey, Viagra was originally invented to treat hypertension. Look how that turned out.

[Cut to Jimmy leaving the house with an angry Roland chasing after him]

Roland: You're completely disgusting, you know that?!

Jimmy: Hey, buddy, you're the one with the sex toilet.

Roland: Get off my property!

Jimmy: Hey, you know what? I hope you do make a fortune, 'cause Chandler's gonna need it to help pay for his therapy!

Mrs. Strauss: Now, where were we? Would you like some more tea?

Jimmy: No, no thank you. I'm—I'm fine. Now, the shepherd boy Hummel, that's gonna go to your nephew Clarence?

Mrs. Strauss: As long as he finishes college. If he drops out, it goes to my niece, Raylene, but then Raylene doesn't get the girl—

Jimmy: The girl with the geese, I know. Then that would go to your cousin Helen, so long as she never remarries Frederick?

Mrs. Strauss: Exactly.

Jimmy: Yeah.

Mrs. Strauss: And no matter what, I want the towheaded twins to go to Reverend Lawrence's grandson.

Jimmy: Um, don't you mean Reverend Haines? 'Cause Reverend Lawrence's grandson is going to get the, uh, lute-playing angel because he was in the choir.

Mrs. Strauss: Very sharp, Mr. McGill... and here I thought all lawyers were idiots.

Jimmy: Hah, no, only half of us are idiots. The other half are crooks!

Mrs. Strauss: [both laugh] Aren't you a spicy one!

Jimmy: Well...

Mrs. Strauss: If I were 40 years younger, I'd have you buy me a piña colada.

Jimmy: Well, if you want me to draw up a DNR, I'll bring a blender and some pineapple.

Mrs. Strauss: I knew I'd like you when I saw how you saved that poor man on the television. Moxie is in such short supply these days.

Jimmy: Yeah, well, I pride myself on my moxie. Now, I hate to do this, but I do need to bring up my payment. Um, and I'm sorry, but I can't accept S&H Green Stamps, heh. Now, my fee is $140.

Mrs. Strauss: A hundred and forty?

Jimmy: I'll gladly accept seventy today and seventy when I come back with the completed documents-

[Mrs. Strauss immediately pulls out the $140]

Mrs. Strauss: Shall we continue, Mr. McGill?

Jimmy: Yes. Yes, we shall, Mrs. Strauss!

[Jimmy notices his billboard story in Chuck's house]

Jimmy: You think this is the return of Slippin' Jimmy, but it's not.

Chuck: [indulgingly] Alright.

Jimmy: You think the billboard thing was unethical, but it was promotion. It was advertising, that's all.

Chuck: Which wasn't even allowed until five Supreme Court justices went completely bonkers in Bates v. State Bar of Arizona.

Jimmy: A-ha!

Chuck: But in any event, it's legal. If you wanna advertise, that's your business.

Jimmy: Business being the operative word there, Chuck! Because I have gotten business off of this. Legit business, wills, trusts... I'm kind of starting to specialize in elder law.

Chuck: Elder law?

Jimmy: Yeah, the things the elderly have to deal with, I mean. You know, relatives coming after their savings, telemarketers, reverse-mortgage scams; I mean, getting old sucks! Seniors need someone on their side, so... you're looking at him.

Chuck: Oh, that sounds... promising... but it has nothing to do with my condition.

Jimmy: Chuck, listen. I'm gonna make you a promise right now, okay?

Chuck: No, not necessary, not requested.

Jimmy: Okay, the billboard was a one-time thing. I–I'm a good lawyer, I just needed some razzmatazz, you know? To get the ball rolling, some showmanship. That's all it was, it's done now, it's over.

Chuck: Alright.

Jimmy: From here on out, I'm gonna play by the rules.

Chuck: As any lawyer should.

Jimmy: Exactly! There are clients out there who need me, and I'm gonna give them the best representation I know how to provide. I'm on the up-and-up, okay? I will be good; Slippin' Jimmy, he's back in Cicero, dead and buried.

Chuck: ...Okay. We'll see.

[Late at night, Jimmy is leaving the parking lot when he stops at Mike's booth]

Jimmy: Heeeeey, there he is. The man in the booth, John Wilkes Booth, Booth Tarkington. Whatcha readin' there? The Complete Annotated Book of Rules for Parking Validation?

Mike: No, the rules for parking validation are actually pretty simple. Most people get it on the first try.

Jimmy: Well, you’ll be pleased to know I have the requisite stickers. [hands over parking ticket]

Mike: [deadpan] Well, be still my heart.

Jimmy: Aaand... you can have this, as well. [hands over business card] I’m doing elder law now. "Need a will? Call McGill." So, give me a call if you, uh—uh, if, uh, you happen to know any elders.

Mike: [slightly annoyed] Good night. [presses button to lift the crossarm]

Jimmy: Couldn’t have a bad one if I tried. [drives away]

Five-O [1.06]

Jimmy: How you doing? James McGill here to see my client. [beat] What?

Sanders: You look like Matlock.

Jimmy: Uh, no, I look like a young Paul Newman dressed as Matlock.

Jimmy: Oh, here's your coffee. Hope it's good to the last drop, 'cause I'm billing you the full hour for it.

Mike: That's for you.

Jimmy: Huh, that's very thoughtful. [beat] You serious? Why'd you have me bring that to you?

Mike: Alright, here's what's gonna happen: those two cops out there are from Philadelphia, they've come a long way to see me. When they come in here, we're all gonna have a little chat, and when it's over, the young one– who's been writing in his little notebook–he's gonna take it and put it in his jacket, and when he does that, I want you to take that coffee and spill it on him. Little accident. That's all.

Jimmy: And why, pray tell, would I do that?

Mike: Because I'm asking you to. It's the only reason you're here.

Jimmy: So I'm here because you want me to assault a police officer.

Mike: I am asking you to take a few ounces of lukewarm coffee and spill it on him. I doubt that satisfies the definition of "assault," but, hey, you're the lawyer.

[Jimmy sits in as counsel while Mike is interrogated]

Abbasi: You got your lawyer, Mike. Can we talk already? [Mike nods] Great. So, like we said, we're looking into this Hoffman and Fensky thing.

Sanders: Yeah. Whatever you can tell us, anything at all-

Jimmy: Hold on, hold on... Hoffman, Fensky? Fill me in. Assume I know absolutely nothing about my client here, alright? Start at the beginning.

Abbasi: Jesus, seriously?

Jimmy: Look, don't let Mr. Ehrmantraut's dancing eyes and bubbly, bon vivant personality fool you. He's actually, believe it or not, somewhat taciturn. Shall I fan you gently, so you don't go into shock? And start at the beginning, okay? We're talking Book of Genesis.

Abbasi: Okay, Mr. McGill. As you've probably gathered, we—Detective Sanders and I—work for the Philadephia Police Department, as did Mr. Ehrmantraut for nearly 30 years.

Jimmy: Philadelphia? Go Eagles.

Abbasi: Mr. Ehrmantraut had a son, Matt; he, too, was with Philly PD. He was a rookie officer with about two years on the job.

Sanders: He was a good cop.

Abbasi: Yes, he was... About nine months ago, he responded to a shots-fired call in some Westside rattrap. Matt went in with his partner, Officer Troy Hoffman; they had Sergeant Jack Fensky backing them up. Unfortunately, things got out of hand, the three of them were ambushed and, uh, Matt didn't make it out. Now, Hoffman and Fensky returned fire, but the shooter got away. We chased a few leads, shook up the usual suspects, came up short.

Jimmy: ...I'm very sorry to hear it.

Abbasi: Anyways, we kept beating the bushes, kept coming up dry, until three months ago. That's when Hoffman and Fensky turned up dead in a vacant lot out in Nicetown. Again, an ambush of some kind, it looks like, and with whoever killed Matt out there in the wind, we're thinking—Well, it's our operating theory that Hoffman and Fensky were mixed up in something, some bad business. And maybe that got Matt killed.

Jimmy: Yeah, sorry, I gotta do my lawyer thing here: uh, what does my client have to do with any of this?

Sanders: Mike, this is a Hail Mary. Beyond that. I mean, if we had any hard evidence or leads, we wouldn't be out here. Now, is there anything you can tell us about what Hoffman or Fensky were into?

Abbasi: Yeah, help us out, Mike? Help us catch the bastard who killed Matty.

[Mike looks up]

Mike: I don't know much about Hoffman and Fensky. They were Matt's people, I'd see them around sometimes. I saw them in a bar the night they died: it was McClure's, maybe The Red Dog. Probably McClure's.

Abbasi: Were they drinking with anyone?

Mike: It's a cop bar, they were drinking with everyone.

Abbasi: Yeah, but did you see them with anyone in particular?

Mike: I couldn't tell you, I was... you know how I was.

Sanders: How you doing these days?

Mike: Feeling like I crawled out from the bottom of a bottle and working hard to stay there. Although, I've gotta say... doesn't help much, dredging up the past like this.

Abbasi: Let me ask you, uh... When did you come out here to Albuquerque? It couldn't have been too much later.

Mike: Think it was the very next day.

Abbasi: Yeah? The day after Hoffman and Fensky died, huh? You didn't think to, uh, stick around once you heard the news?

Mike: I don't think I heard the news 'til I was west of Kansas City.

Abbasi: Still, you didn't come back for the funerals, correct? Even though Hoffman was Matt's partner?

Sanders: Um, you remember anything about that night at the bar? Did you talk to Hoffman or Fensky at all?

Mike: Sorry, I got nothing; they weren't my people. I'm sorry you guys took a flyer on me, I wish that it had paid off.

Jimmy: That it? Are we done here? We're done here, yeah.

[Everyone gets out of their seats]

Sanders: That wasn't so hard, huh? Thanks, Mike. [shakes Mike's hand]

Mike: Yeah.

Sanders: Listen, we're probably gonna kick around for another couple of days, in case you think of something. I've never been out west before.

[Abbasi puts his notebook in his pocket. Jimmy spills his coffee on him and Mike grabs it. They both get in Jimmy's car]

Jimmy: [sees Mike going through the notebook] Oh, for the love of—You gotta do that right here? Right in front of me? What's so important in there that we had to pull that third-rate Marx Brothers routine?

Mike: You really wanna know?

Jimmy: And risk getting a piece of an obstruction rap? No, thank you!

Mike: Anything else you wanna ask?

Jimmy: ...How'd you know?

Mike: Know what?

Jimmy: T-that I would do that, the... How did you know that I would spill that coffee? [Mike sniggers] What the hell is that? What's [sniggering] supposed to mean, huh? [pause] Okay, great, you're the strong, silent type. Hooray for you, but in case you missed it, your friends from Philly back there? They think you killed two cops.

Mike: [inhales] Yup.

Mike: You call the cops?

Stacey: What?

Mike: Philadelphia PD. Did you call them?

Stacey: Y-yeah, I did.

Mike: Why?

Stacey: I told them I heard about Hoffman and Fensky-

Mike: And what?

Stacey: You don't think it's strange? First Matt, then not six months later, his partner and his sergeant? Yeah, I called them to help catch Matty's killer. Mike, what if the same person-? If—what if the piece of shit who got Matty got them too?

Mike: And what exactly did you tell them?

Stacey: I told them-

Mike: You told them Matt was dirty? Is that what you told them?

Stacey: I-

Mike: How could you possibly think that? That's your husband, the father of your child–

Stacey: I didn't say that. I-I told them I found money. After Kaylee and I moved here, when I was unpacking—it was in the lining of an old suitcase. Matt must've tucked it away in there, because this was cash. Five, six thousand, from God knows where! I mean, we were basically living paycheck to paycheck. Where the hell did he get it?

Mike: Why didn't you ask me? Why didn't you come to me?

Stacey: I couldn't. I knew what it would do to you. First he's murdered, and then for you to think... I mean, it would burn you to the ground, there'd be nothing left. And you wouldn't talk to me! Every night, you were drinking yourself unconscious like you were the only one who lost him. Look, I don't care: he was dirty, he was clean, I don't care. All I want is for whoever killed Matty to rot in a cell for the rest of their life, and then I want whatever's left of them just dumped in the trash. That's what I want. I don't care where it leads, what it uncovers. I mean, what difference would it make if he was... anything? I'd still love him, I'd still miss him, he'd still be gone!

Mike: Matt wasn't dirty!

Stacey: Well, so be straight with me. Right now! This is it, Mike! What was that phone call before he died? Don't bullshit me!

Mike: That was between me and my son.

Stacey: So, you're admitting it was you!

Mike: He wasn't dirty! Goddamn you, you get that through your head! My son wasn't dirty!

[Mike admits the truth about his late son, Matty, to his wife]

Mike: You let some things slide and you look the other way. You bust a drug dealer that has more cash than you'll ever earn in a lifetime. Some of it doesn't make it back into evidence, so what? You took a taste. So did everyone else. That's how you knew you were safe. It's like killing Caesar. Everyone's guilty. Matt wasn't dirty. I was. Everyone was in that precinct. That's how it worked. You turn in your buddy, you're screwing yourself. You go along to get along.

Stacey: And you went along.

Mike: [chuckles; clicks tongue] I did. Yeah. I did.

Stacey: Okay. But you said Matt didn't.

Mike: No. Not Matt. Fensky got to Hoffman early, kickbacks from some gang or another. Protection, basically. And Hoffman went to Matty and offered to cut him in. Only fair, right? They were partners. And Matt did what you would think: He agonized. And then he came to me, wanted to go to the I.A., do the right thing, shut 'em down.

Stacey: Oh, my God. And you let him? That's why he got killed 'cause he was gonna turn on those guys?

Mike: No. No. I told him...[sighs] "You know what a cop fears most? More than getting shot, more than anything? Prison. Getting locked up with everybody you put away. You threaten a cop with that, you make him dangerous." And that's what I told him. I talked sense. No one was getting hurt. "But if you go to the I.A., if you even look like you're going...?" He had a wife, a kid, responsibilities. "Take the money. Do something good with it." [chuckles] Well, I tried. I tried. But he wouldn't listen. My boy was stubborn. My boy was strong. And he was gonna get himself killed. So I told him...I told him I did it, too, that I was like Hoffman, getting by, and that's what you heard that night: Me talking him down, him kicking and screaming until the fight went out of him. He put me up on a pedestal. And I had to show him that I was down in the gutter with the rest of them. Broke my boy. I broke my boy. He went to Hoffman, he took the money, but he hesitated. Even looking like you're doing the right thing to those two meant that he wasn't solid – that he couldn't be trusted. I got Matty to take the money. And they killed him two days later. He was the strongest person that I ever knew. He'd have never done it, not even to save himself. I was the only one, I was the only one that could get him to debase himself like that. And it was for nothing. I made him lesser. I made him like me. And the bastards killed him anyway.

Stacey: Hoffman and Fensky, if they killed Matty... who killed them? Pop... What happened?

Mike: You know what happened. The question is... Can you live with it?

Bingo [1.07]

Kim: I know this is the last thing you want to hear. I think your chances of getting a favorable ruling from a jury are very slim.

Craig: What does that mean?

Kim: We're not in a great position to win at trial.

Betsy: But we came to you people because we were told you win cases.

Kim: Winning doesn't always mean "getting a favorable verdict at trial". We try to achieve the best possible outcome for our clients, given each individual case. Frankly, we've worked very hard to stave off an arrest. After the misunderstanding about your, uh, "camping trip", the D.A. was concerned you might be a flight risk.

Betsy: [scoffs] A flight risk? We–we were practically in our own backyard!

Kim: That's exactly what we told the D.A. In any case, I think we've managed to come up with a deal that is very favorable under the circumstances.

Betsy: A deal? I hate that terminology. A deal is what they got O.J.

Craig: Well, Betsy, maybe we should, you know, hear it...

Betsy: I'm just saying, it's a terrible term. [to Kim] What kind of deal?

Kim: If the prosecution decides to file, which is definitely the direction this seems to be headed, and if they choose to stack charges, Craig, you're looking at thirty years in prison.

Craig: Thirty years?

Kim: That's the maximum, and given the nature of the charge and the current political environment, I'd say we should expect it. The public outcry in cases like these is a big factor. However, after much discussion with the D.A., who is also invested in keeping the press to a minimum, we have arrived at an arrangement, which would include sixteen months in a county facility.

Craig: Sixteen months.

Kim: Down from thirty years. And you most likely wouldn't serve all of it.

Betsy: But he would have to say he was guilty.

Kim: Admitting wrongdoing and making the county whole again goes a long way here. Hence the minimal sentence.

Betsy: Uh, "making the county whole again"?

Kim: It includes the stipulation that you return $1.6 million in misappropriated funds.

Craig: Give back the money?

Betsy: [puts her hand on Craig's arm] But there is no money.

Craig: There's no money.

Betsy: We told you, Craig is innocent.

Kim: I understand. However, I'd like to emphasize again that this deal is Craig's best chance of minimizing jail time.

Betsy: You're telling us there are drug dealers and murderers walking the streets, but instead of going after them, they want to put an innocent man in jail.

Craig: There's no other way?

Kim: I'm sorry. I think, under the circumstances, this is your best option.

Betsy: Murderers and rapists, and this is how they tr... [inhales deeply] Okay. There is no money. There never was. You have to take this to trial.

Kim: Look, you have a difficult, but nevertheless straightforward choice to make here. On one hand, you give up the money, plead-

Betsy: [interrupts] Ah! I just told you, there is no money.

Kim: ...Plead guilty. It's painful, I know. And go to jail for a year and a half. But your other choice? [beat] That is no choice at all. If you go to trial, you'll most likely lose, and Craig goes to prison for decades. Your children will grow up seeing their dad through bars on visiting day. I know what I'd do. I'd take the deal. Two years from now, you can be starting over. It's tough, I know. But you're tough people. And your family is worth it. [beat] Why don't I give you a few moments to discuss this? I know it's a big decision.

Betsy: We don't need to discuss it. You're fired.

[Jimmy finds that the Kettlemans have dumped Kim and want to hire him for their embezzlement case. He calls her from a restaurant bathroom]

Jimmy: Hey, funny story: I found something that belongs to you, again.

Kim: Yeah? What?

Jimmy: "Who?" Picture The 25th Hour, starring Ned and Maude Flanders.

Jimmy: [to the Kettlemans] Can we all three just parachute down from cloud cuckoo land?

Kim: I know we're never supposed to say our clients are guilty, but hey, not my client anymore. He's guilty as sin.

Jimmy: Yeah, but there has to be something. Some loophole or -

Kim: None that I could find.

Jimmy: There has to be a way.

Kim: Not without the money. It's the only chip those Kettlemans have, and they refuse to play it.

[Jimmy enters the Kettleman residence]

Jimmy: [looking around] Oh, I love what you've done with the place. Last time I was here, it was, uh... Well, not a contender for the cover of Good Housekeeping, that's for sure.

Betsy: [chuckling] Do you have news about our case?

Jimmy: I do, in fact. But before we get to the nitty-gritty, I think we should chat about your deal.

Betsy: Uh, we told you, there will be no deal.

Jimmy: You did, didn't you? However, circumstances have changed.

Betsy: What circumstances?

Jimmy: To answer that, um... might I suggest that you go and check on that money you insist you "didn't" take?

[Betsy laughs incredulously]

Jimmy: In the upstairs bathroom, under the sink?

Craig: Wait, how could you...?

[The truth dawns on Betsy first, and she leaps up and hurries up the stairs in a panic, cutting him off. Craig follows her up, while Jimmy waits patiently in the living room.]

Craig: Betsy?

[There is the sound of clattering and rummaging upstairs]

Betsy: No, no no no no no no!

Craig: It's okay, Betsy. It's gotta be... it's gotta be in there somewhere.

[Betsy comes out of the bathroom and addresses Jimmy from upstairs]

Betsy: What did you do with it?!

Jimmy: By "it", you mean...?

Betsy: [As she and Craig make their way downstairs] Where is it?!

Jimmy: Oh! You mean the money? Uh, let me see. It's uh... [checks his watch] on its way to the D.A.'s desk, right about now.

Betsy: What!? You...!? Oh, you thief!

Jimmy: It takes one to know one, doesn't it?

Craig: You took it? How did you take it?

Jimmy: A good magician never reveals his tricks. Now here's what we're gonna do—

Betsy: Oh, you don't tell us what to do. You stole from us. We... We will have you arrested!

Jimmy: Uh, I can see how upset you are, and even on a good day, you and logic are... [places two fingers together and separates them with a whistling sound] But think about what you just said. Criminals have no recourse. And you two? You're criminals. Big time.

Betsy: How dare you.

Jimmy: Luckily, you have a very talented lawyer, who has found a way to minimize the damage you've brought upon yourselves.

Betsy: Oh, you're fired!

Jimmy: Oh, I quit already. No, I'm talking about Kim Wexler. Now, you're gonna go back to her, you're gonna apologize for your hasty decision to terminate her services, and you're gonna fall on her mercy and take that deal.

Betsy: We'll tell about the bribe you took.

Jimmy: You could do that. You absolutely could, and I'd be in a mess of trouble, a real pickle...

[Betsy smiles smugly, thinking she's got him]

Jimmy: ...But so would you, Mrs. Kettleman. Because right now, only Mr. Kettleman is on the hook, for the whole embezzlement kerfluffle. But the bribe – we're back to calling it a bribe? Yeah, that implicates you as well.

Craig: It does not. It was all me.

Jimmy: No, it wasn't. I'll make sure everyone knows that. Look on the bright side, you know? They could work out some kind of inter-prison visitation program, the occasional conjugal. Maybe it won't be all bad. [to Betsy] You, you'll probably wind up running your own gang. [He looks up at both of them, becoming somewhat solemn] Thing you folks need to know about me? I got nothing to lose. Christ, you should see my office.

RICO [1.08]

Jimmy: This is a demand letter informing Sandpiper Crossing of pending litigation for defrauding my clients through systematic overcharging. You're shredding in there! I'm not deaf! I can hear you! Stop right now! [shredding continues] This here this makes it official, right? If you don't stop shredding right now, that's destruction of evidence! Spoliation! That's what it's called, and it's a felony! So call your lawyers right now and tell them I said that! Me! James McGill Esquire!

[Jimmy gets a call from Rich Schweikart, a lawyer representing Sandpiper Crossing, as he looks for the shredded documents in a dumpster]

Rich Schweikart: Mr. McGill, Rich Schweikart of Schweikart and Cokely. We're the law firm representing Sandpiper Crossing assisted living. How are you this evening?

Jimmy: Quite well, thank you. How are you?

Rich: Doing fine. I'm sorry to call so late. Did I catch you at a bad time?

Jimmy: No, no. No, it's fine.

Rich: It's just that you're whispering.

Jimmy: I'm at the opera.

Rich: Oh? What opera?

Jimmy: Magic Flute.

Rich: Mozart! Lovely. Well, I'll try not to keep you. We received something from you today, and we're not quite sure what.

Jimmy: It's a demand letter.

Rich: Ah. Well, it was a little confusing 'cause it was written on...

Jimmy: Well, I had to write it quickly because your clients were in the process of destroying evidence!

Rich: Mr. McGill, if you're talking about "shredding documents", it's neither irregular nor illegal. Every business in America does it.

Jimmy: You say potato, I say spoliation.

Rich: Maybe you should walk me through what you're alleging here.

Jimmy: I believe it's all in the letter.

Rich: Uh, I–I'm not saying it's not, but it's a bit hard to read. Next time, I'd use double-ply.

Jimmy: Let's not fixate on the medium, okay? Let's look at the message. Now, your clients are facing multiple counts of elder abuse, and fraud, and deceptive and unfair trade practices, and that's just the start, okay? I'm not a betting man, but I bet the farm I'll find more.

Rich: Mr. McGill, are you related to Charles McGill?

Jimmy: He's my brother.

Rich: Yeah? How's he doing these days?

Jimmy: I–I fail to see the relevance of this.

Rich: Well, frankly, the only reason that I made this phone call was out of respect for Charles, on the off chance that you might be related to him. My partner suggested that the best response would be to send a Rule 11 letter and have you sanctioned, but I didn't want to jump to that immediate length.

Jimmy: How about you stop trying to rattle my cage and just, you know, respond to the merits?

Rich: This is my response, Mr. McGill. You have no good-faith basis to threaten any litigation. This is a shakedown, and we both know it. Now, if you push this any further, my hands will be tied. Sorry for interrupting your evening. Enjoy The Magic Flute.

Jimmy: [after Schweikart has hung up] Blow my magic flute!

Chuck: You broke into a nursing home?

Jimmy: Assisted living.

Chuck: And you stole their garbage. My God.

Jimmy: No, it was in public. There was no lock, no nothing. I just lifted the lid, and there it was. There's no reasonable expectation of privacy in that situation, is there? You can't say it's private if a hobo can use it as a wigwam!

[Jimmy and Chuck arrange a meeting with Sandpiper's lawyers]

Rich: Well, let's get started. We've read your revised demand; it's quite a laundry list, very creative.

Jimmy: Yeah, creative. Like the way your clients have been billing my clients? Because that's, like, Salvador Dali creative.

Rich: That's cute–you know you're not gonna make this stick. Setting aside evidentiary concerns–

Jimmy: Whoa, your guys couldn't afford ten bucks for a padlock? That's on them: public property.

Rich: Maybe a judge sees that your way, maybe he doesn't, but the damages for elder abuse? The statute requires proof that there was some undue influence. Someone threatening the residents of Sandpiper Crossing.

Alvin: As far as I understand it, no one has claimed that there was a guy with a knife telling them to hand over their lunch money.

Rich: There are a lot of assisted living facilities out there that may be disreputable, but that's not the case with our client, not even close. All their facilities, all 12 of them, every single one, five-star rated. You go to any one of them right now, and you know what you'll see? You'll see happy, healthy residents. Sandpiper takes care of these people, they don't bilk them...but, we looked into it and some of your clients have, in fact, been overbilled. It's a–it's an accounting error. It doesn't rise to the level of fraud–not even close.

Phil: We've calculated the damages. All told, it's $46,320.

Rich: Mhm. So, here's what we're prepared to do: we're gonna make your clients whole. A check for the 46 and change right now, and on top of that, we'll give you another 46K to cover your expenses. So what's that, 92? Let's call it $100,000, even. We admit to no wrongdoing, and your clients release all claims. [leans back in chair]

[Jimmy glances at Chuck, then retrieves the syringe invoice]

Jimmy: I think you're gonna need to do better than that.

Rich: Ah. This was in your demand letter. They're syringes. So? I-I don't know if you know this, but that's a pretty standard item in an assisted living facility.

Jimmy: Correct, but it's not what it is that matters. It's where it's from.

Rich: Lincoln, Nebraska?

Jimmy: Go Cornhuskers. [beat] Well, since you're not picking up what I'm putting down, I'll explain it to you. Nebraska, although they both begin with the letter N, actually turns out to be a different state than New Mexico, so your client accepted shipments across state lines for its enterprise. I-in the U.S. mail, no less!

Rich: Are you trying to make this a RICO case?

Phil: Like our client is John Gotti, or something?

Jimmy: Well, you know as well as I do, RICO's used mostly for business beefs. Sedima establishes a pretty low threshold for RICO provisions to kick in. Interstate commerce is a bitch, huh? As soon as we establish a pattern to–what was your word–uh, "overbillings?" I prefer the classic term of fraud. You're looking at treble damages, so your 100 grand? I think you know where you can stick it.

Rich: ...Will you give us a moment?

[Sandpiper's lawyers whisper to each other]

Rich: Well, what number exactly did you have in mind?

Chuck: Twenty million.

Rich: Excuse me?

Chuck: You heard me.

Rich: Oh, you can't expect-

Chuck: Twenty. Million. Dollars... or we'll see you in court.

Pimento [1.09]

Sobchak: So, what you packing?

Mike: A pimento.

Sobchak: Sorry, what?

Mike: Pimento sandwich.

Sobchak: [laughs] That's funny. Pimento. No, I mean, what are you carrying? You know, the piece? What's the make?

Mike: Pimento is a cheese. They call it the caviar of the South.

Sobchak: You don't want to tell me what you're carrying, so be it. But you don't have to be a douche about it.

Mike: Just told you what I'm carrying.

Sobchak: So you're saying you don't have a gun? Is that what you're saying? How are you here without a gun? [to Man Mountain] You have a gun?

Man Mountain: Yeah.

Sobchak: Yeah, of course. He's got a gun. I got at least two guns on me that I'll tell you about. I go old school with a Wilson Combat 1911, I got a Glock-22 Gen-3, and those are just the ones I'll tell you about.

Mike: Mmm.

Sobchak: I mean, what the hell, really? How do you not pack a gun?

[Their client pulls up in front of them]

Pryce: Hi. Hello. My name is Pryce. Um, actually, that's not my name, but uh, I have a nephew named Pryce; I've always kind of liked that name. Anyway, we're not dealing with names today. You can tell me or not tell me yours... or a fake one is fine. If I need to talk to you, I'd prefer something other than "Hey, you". Either way, you all come highly recommended, so thank you. First order of business: we have a long drive ahead of us. I have a cooler of water in the car, some soft drinks. I don't drink coffee, but there is a diner on the corner, also, a bathroom in case you need to go before, uh, we go. Second order: money. Just to be clear that the agreed-upon fee of $500 per man is... agreed-upon. Uh, if that's acceptable-

Sobchak: Yeah, I have a thought.

Pryce: Y-yeah?

Sobchak: How about you give me and Man Mountain 750 each, and send Uncle Fester there home? He's not carrying a gun, he's useless.

Pryce: [to Mike] Is that true? Y-you didn't bring a gun?

Mike: I didn't think I'd need one.

Sobchak: [snickers] It's a protection job. It's basic common sense that you need a gun to protect your employer. I mean, duh! You're dead weight. He'd just a third wheel without a piece-

Mike: I'll tell you what: if I need a gun, I'll use one of his.

Sobchak: Really, one of my guns? How do you picture that happening, exactly?

Mike: Well, I guess I'm gonna take it from you.

Sobchak: That–that is just special. Ohhh, "take". How are you gonna "take" one of my guns? [steps up to Mike] Come on, Billy Jackoff. "Take" my gun from me. Let me see it. [holds out a gun toward Mike] Here, I'll make it easy on ya.

Mike: [turns to face him] You can make it not so easy.

Sobchak: Sure thing. [points the gun at Mike's head] You got it. [Mike grabs the gun from his hand and unloads it] What the-? Son of a-!

[Sobchak lunges towards Mike. Mike whips him in the throat. When Sobchak collapses, Mike leans over him]

Mike: Okay, let's see what you got. [pulls out a pistol] Yeah, yeah, yeah. A guy like you... I'll bet you have an ankle hostler, wouldn't you? [pulls a gun from Sobchak's ankle holster] You know, that's cute. What else? [flips Sobchak on his side and pulls a large gun from his jacket] Wow. Now, that's impressive. So many guns, I don't know which one to use. [to Man Mountain] How about you, you want one? [Man Mountain runs off] Alright. [throws the guns away in a trash can and grabs his sandwich]

Pryce: But we need three guys!

Mike: No, no we don't. Come on, let's go. [Mike gets into Pryce's car and see him looking at Sobchak] Oh, he'll be fine. And now that I'm doing the job alone, I get the full $1,500. We agree upon that?

Howard: Jimmy... Jimmy, I'm just gonna say it. You're not working here.

Jimmy: What are you talking about? You said this case is a slam dunk.

Howard: Yes. We want the case, we don't want, um... the case is all we want.

Jimmy: You gotta be–you're serious? I walk in here with a multi-million dollar class action lawsuit on a damn platinum platter, a case that I found, that I made happen... and you don't want me?! Why in Christ not?! Well, I know that you hate me, Howard.

Chuck: Jimmy–

Jimmy: I'm fine. You better believe, feeling goes both ways, but I'm willing to set that aside to work with you on this. Why can't you do the same for me? What is it that you can't let go of, huh? What slight did I make to your fine, upstanding character that you can't forgive.

Howard: A majority decision has been made by myself and the partners–all due respect to you, Chuck. We are not interested in taking any new associates into the firm.

Jimmy: Bullshit! New associates?! Someone walks in with a case like this, you beg them to be partner! Tell me why! You didn't want me then? Okay. You don't want me now?! Explain it!

Chuck: Howard, I don't know what to say. I am very disappointed, I really think you should reconsider.

Howard: I'm sorry, but no. I think it's best if Jimmy takes the of-counsel fee. We could probably up it a bit. Keep in mind, you will be well compensated in the back end. It's easy money, Jimmy. No reason not to take it.

Jimmy: Go to hell, Howard! I'm not giving you my case. And I'm gonna tell every one of those clients what a lying miserable pig fucker you are. I will burn the whole thing to the ground before I give it to you!

Howard: The partners have made a decision and the why is not your concern.

Kim: I think it is my concern.

Howard: And why is that?

Kim: Because he's my friend. And the way I see it, you're not treating him fairly.

Howard: "The way you see it?"

Kim: I don't know what image you have of him, past or present, or whatever he did or said, but Jimmy is a good lawyer. And he works very hard.

Howard: Did your friend send you in here to say that?

Kim: No. I'm saying it because I believe it.

Howard: Well, duly noted. Want to know what I believe? I believe that you're way out of your depth in this matter. So the next time that you want to come in here and tell me what I'm doing wrong, you are welcome to keep it to yourself. Because I don't care.

Pryce: How did you know not to bring a gun?

Mike: This $1500- I'll just say, you're getting a bargain. I put in a lot of legwork before coming here. That fella you just met with? Name is Ignacio Varga; runs with a connected crew of drug dealers. Now, this deal he's doing with you, he's doing outside his crew - doesn't want his bosses to know - so it was in his best interest that things go very smoothly.

Pryce: ...Wow.

Mike: Mm. The lesson is, if you're gonna be a criminal, do your homework.

Pryce: Wait. I- I'm not a bad guy.

Mike: I didn't say you were a bad guy. I said you're a criminal.

Pryce: What's the difference?

Mike: I've known good criminals and bad cops. Bad priests. Honorable thieves. You can be on one side of the law or the other. But if you make a deal with somebody, you keep your word. You can go home today with your money and never do this again. But you took something that wasn't yours. And you sold it for a profit. You're now a criminal. Good one, bad one? That's up to you.

Jimmy: Imagine that, huh? The two McGill boys side-by-side: storming the gates, righting wrongs, taking down the bad guys and making a boatload of money to boot. That would've been great, right?

Chuck: The very best.

Jimmy: ...Yeah.

Chuck: Yeah. I'll keep on Howard. Um, won't badger him, but maybe I can gradually wear him down. Y'know, get him to come around.

Jimmy: [stiffly] That's... thanks. Wow, I'm so lucky to have you looking out for me.

Chuck: I'll do what I can. I'm not promising anything.

Jimmy: I get it. It's a long shot.

Chuck: Hey, he might change his mind.

Jimmy: Yeah? Hey, maybe... there is a way that you could get Howard to change his mind.

Chuck: How?

Jimmy: Quit.

Chuck: [beat] Jimmy, no-

Jimmy: No, no, it's perfect.

Chuck: No, no, no. We've already been through all this; all the reasons I'm never gonna leave HHM.

Jimmy: But y–but you don't have to really quit, okay? You just threaten to quit, right? You get in a game of chicken with Howard. He's gotta blink, or HHM goes under. It's a perfect plan.

Chuck: Jimmy-

Jimmy: If that's what you want, y'know? Us working together? Well, you can make it happen, easily. I mean, hey, that reception you got yesterday at HHM–how 'bout that, right? The whole lobby of HHM applauding for you. They love you! [increasingly angry] Now, if you threaten to pull out, Hamlin would be insane to screw with you. You've got the nuclear option, launch the doomsday device. Game over! If working with me is what you really want, right, Chuck? [beat] You called him. You called Hamlin. I always turn my phone off before I put it in your mailbox. Two nights ago, it was left on. Battery drained. I was so damn sure that I turned it off, you know, 'cause I always do. It's a habit, right? So, it was nagging me, it was nagging me. So, I called the phone company. Turns out there was a deleted call at 2 A.M., when I was asleep right there. And you know whose number? Hamlin's. The only person who could have made that call and deleted it... is you, Chuck. Boy, that phone, huh? Phone must've felt like a blowtorch in your ear; all that electricity, all those radio waves right up against the side of your head, my God! What was so important that you had to call Howard before our meeting? The only thing I can think–the only thing that makes sense is... you told him not to hire me. It was always you, right? Right back to when I passed the bar and tried to join the firm. You didn't want me. Speak up. Tell me why! It's the least you can do for me now! I'm your brother! We're supposed to look out for each other! Why were you working against me, Chuck?!

Chuck: You're not a real lawyer.

Jimmy: I'm what?

Chuck: You're not a real lawyer! University of American Samoa, for Christ's sake? An online course?! What a joke! I worked my ass off to get where I am, and you take these shortcuts and you think suddenly you're my peer?! You do what I do because you're funny and you can make people laugh?! I committed my life to this! You don't slide into it like a cheap pair of slippers and then reap all the rewards!

Jimmy: I thought you were proud of me.

Chuck: I was! When you straightened out and got a job in the mailroom, I was very proud.

Jimmy: So that's it then, right? Keep old Jimmy down in the mailroom, 'cause he's not good enough to be a lawyer.

Chuck: I know you. I know what you were, what you are. People don't change. You're Slippin' Jimmy! And Slippin' Jimmy I can handle just fine, but Slippin' Jimmy with a law degree is like a chimp with a machine gun! The law is sacred! If you abuse that power, people get hurt! This is not a game. You have to know on some level, I know you know I'm right. You know I'm right!

Jimmy: [beat] I...I got ya a 20-pound bag of ice, and some bacon and some eggs and a couple of those steaks that you like. Some fuel canisters, it's enough for three or four days. After that... you're on your own. I am done.

Marco [1.10]

[Jimmy calls bingo at Sandpiper Crossing]

Jimmy: Hey, it's our old friend "B"! B-12! B as in, uh... B as in "betrayal." Benedict Arnold betrayed the United States. Still no winners? No? Okay... here it is. [Jimmy gets another ball] Oh, what are the odds?! Four B's in a row! B as in... B as in... brother. Brother. B-7, seven brides for seven brothers. I'm sure a lot of you had brothers–it's not like mine, though. Any winners, yet? Take–take another look, okay? I'll wait. I'm gonna say, if it's another B, we could have a real problem here. [Jimmy gets another ball] Hey, it is another B! B-5, as in "Boy, this B thing is really starting to tick me off." B as in battleship, B as in bourbon, B as in Belize; beautiful place, so I've heard. I would love to go there, but let's face it, that's never gonna happen. None of us is ever leaving this godforsaken wasteland. [pause] Sorry, scratch that. Moving on? [Jimmy gets another ball] I mean, what is it with this place? It's–it's like living inside an easy-bake oven. I mean, look out that window. It's–it's like a soulless, radioactive Georgia O'Keeffe hellscape out there, crawling with coral snakes and scorpions and– You ever see the movie The Hills Have Eyes? It's a documentary! God forbid your car breaks down. You have to walk ten steps. You got a melanoma the size of a pineapple where your head used to be. And so you ask, "Why?" Why? If if that's how I feel, why do I live here? Why?!

Senior: Excuse me. Are you gonna read that number?

Jimmy: Yeah. I'm gonna read your number. Eh–and it's another "B!" It's another frigging "B! Boy, of course. Why not? Why not?! And the next number...

[Jimmy walks off the stage with the microphone]

Jimmy: Uh, quick question, who here knows what a Chicago sunroof is? Anybody? You, sir? No? Okay. True story, uh, back home, uh, there was this guy named Chet. Now, Chet was a real asshole. He might have owed me some money. He might have slept with my wife before she became my ex-wife. The details don't matter. Suffice it to say, I was wronged. All right, so one summer evening, I was out having a few drinks. One or two, maybe three. You get the picture? And, uh, who do I see? Chet. He drove up, and he double-parked outside a Dairy Queen and went in to get some soft serve. Now, Chet drove – and this will give you an idea of exactly what kind of a douchebag this guy was – drove a white pearlescent BMW 7 Series with white leather interior. So, I saw that thing, and I had–I'd had a few, like I said. And, uh, I climbed up top, and I may have defecated, uh, through the sunroof. Not my finest hour, I'll grant you that. But that's what a Chicago sunroof is. Now you know. It's a real thing. I didn't make it up. I'm not the first person to do it. There's a name for it. Guy wanted some soft serve, I gave him some soft serve. I did not know that his children were in the backseat. There was a level of tint on the windows that I'll maintain to this day was not legal in an Illinois-licensed vehicle. But somehow, that's on me, I guess. Who leaves two Cub Scouts in a double-parked car with the engine running?! Come on! Now, Chet was connected, see? Like, uh, Cicero connected. So, usually, I'd be looking at malicious mischief, public intoxication, disorderly conduct, maybe. But he's got the D.A. saying indecent exposure, calling me a sex offender. What? One little Chicago sunroof, and suddenly I'm Charles Manson?! And that's where it all went off the rails. I've been paying for it ever since. That's why I'm here! I don't...You know what? [sniffs] Any of this stuff you want, come get it. Kitty-cat notebooks for everybody.

Sabrina: Hey! You are not Kevin Costner!

Jimmy: I was last night.

Jimmy: Marco, I'm sorry. I gotta go back.

Marco: What?

Jimmy: It's been great, and I appreciate your hospitality, but a week's gonna have to do it. I gotta go home.

Marco: I already called in sick! [pause] Come on, man. This is home. You hate it out there. What d'you gotta go back to?

Jimmy: My clients.

Marco: Your clients? What, are you like a gigolo, or something?

Jimmy: Marco... I'm a lawyer.

Marco: What?

Jimmy: Honest to God. I do elder law, which is like, wills and estates-

Marco: So you're ripping off old people?

Jimmy: No, I'm not ripping off old people. I'm not ripping off anybody.

Marco: Holy crap. Slippin' Jimmy's a lawyer? [laughs] No wonder you wanna go back! I mean, you got to be king of the desert, driving around town in a white Caddy making bank!

Jimmy: I'm not making bank. I'm making a living, more or less.

Marco: A living? All due respect–you're a lawyer and you're not making bank, you're doing it wrong.

Jimmy: Well, I'm building something. Takes time!

Marco: You're gonna build somethin', build it out here. I mean, lawyers in Chicago make plenty, I assure you.

Jimmy: I don't know what to tell ya, Marco. Chuck's in Albuquerque.

Marco: Again, all due respect, Chuck's a stuck-up douchebag. I hate to break it to ya, but he doesn't even like you.

Jimmy: ...He's my brother.

Marco: ...Okay. I get it. Family, you gotta go back. But... [pulls out a watch from a drawer] remember this?

Jimmy: The Rolex thing. Whatever happened to the guy who used to sell us those?

Marco: Jin Kang? He got deported, this is the last one. I say we go for it.

Jimmy: No.

Marco: Aw, come on! Last time we did, what, 600? The hot streak we're on, I bet we'd break a grand, easy!

Jimmy: I could lend you some cash-

Marco: I don't need the money, Jimmy. I need this. Come on, you say you're happy doing wills or whatever? Good for you, man, seriously! I gotta tell ya, standpipes ain't cutting it for me, man. I got nothing, Jimmy. Give me this.

[When doing the Rolex scam, Marco doesn't stir. Jimmy calls 911 when Marco is roused.]

Marco: I screwed up.

Jimmy: No, y-you did–You did good, buddy! Just hold on, alright? They're on their way, they'll be here in a minute.

Marco: Jimmy, you know what?

Jimmy: Just s-save your breath, okay? You're gonna be fine.

Marco: This was the greatest week of my life.

Mike: Well, that was quick. No charge.

Jimmy: Help me out here. Did I dream it, or did I have $1,600,000 on my desk in cash? When I close my eyes, I can still see it. It's burned into my retinas like I was staring into the sun. No one on God's green earth knew we had it. We could have split it 50/50. We could have gone home with $800,000 each, tax-free.

Mike: Your point being?

Jimmy: Why didn't we? What stopped us?!

Mike: I remember you saying something about doing the right thing.

Jimmy: I don't even know what that means.

Mike: You want to know why I didn't take that money? Is that what you're asking?

Jimmy: Yeah, that's what I'm asking.

Mike: Me personally? I was hired to do a job. I did it. That's as far as it goes.

Jimmy: Yeah. Well, I know what stopped me. And you know what? It's never stopping me again.

External links

Wikipedia

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Better Call Saul (season 1)