I think you've got the makings of being a really good cop, Jason. And you know why? Because deep down you're a decent man. I know you don't think I think that, but I do, dipshit. I do think you're too angry, though. And I know it's all since your dad died and you had to go look after your mom and all. But as long as you hold on to so much hate, then I don't think you're ever gonna become... what I know you wanna become. A detective. Because you know what you need to become a detective? And I know you're gonna wince when I say this... But what you need to become a detective... is love. Fuck 'em. Because through love comes calm, and through calm comes thought. And you need thought to detect stuff sometimes, Jason. It's kinda all you need. You don't even need a gun. And you definitely don't need hate. Hate never solved nothing. But calm did. And thought did. Try it. Try it just for a change. No one will think you're gay. And if they do, arrest them for homophobia. Won't they be surprised?
— Is mommy drunk, daddy?
— No, no, she's just got a little migraine. A little Chardonnay migraine.
This is not a case of, "I came in this world alone "and I'm going out of it alone," or anything dumb like that. I did not come in this world alone, my mom was there. And I am not going out of it alone, 'cause you are there, drunk on the couch, making Oscar Wilde cock jokes.
Firstly, I wanted to apologize for dying without catching your daughter's killer. It's a source of great pain to me, and it would break my heart to think you thought I didn't care, 'cause I did care. There are just some cases... where you never catch a break... then five years down the line some guy hears some other guy bragging about it in a bar room or a jail cell and the whole thing is wrapped up through sheer stupidity. I hope that might be true for Angela.
Don't give me that look. If you got rid of every cop with vaguely racist leanings, you'd have... three cops left, and all of them are gonna hate the fags.
— I wanna know something, Mildred. Why'd you drill a hole through poor fat Geoffrey's thumbnail?
— That did not happen. His hand slipped. He drilled a hole through his own self. Did he say I did it? I guess it's his word against mine, then, huh? Kinda like in all those rape cases you hear about.
— I'd do anything to catch the guy who did it, Mrs. Hayes. But when the DNA don't match no one who's ever been arrested, and when the DNA don't match any other crime nationwide, and when there wasn't a single eyewitness from the time she'd left your house to the time we found her, well... right now there ain't too much more we can do.
— Could pull blood from every man and boy in this town over the age of eight.
— There's civil rights laws prevents that, Mrs. Hayes. And what if he was just passing through town?
— Pull blood from every man in the country, then.
— Then what if he was just passing through the country?
— If it was me, I'd start up a database. Every male baby what's born, stick them on it, and as soon as he done something wrong, cross-reference it, make 100% certain it was a correct match, then kill him.
— Yeah, well, there's... definitely civil rights laws prevents that.
— I'm doing everything I can to track him down. I don't think those billboards is very fair.
— The time it took you to get out here whining like a bitch, Willoughby, some other poor girl's probably out there being butchered right now. But I'm glad you got your priorities straight, I'll say that for you.
Mildred Hayes: — So how's it all going in the nigger-torturing business, Dixon?
Jason Dixon: — It's persons-of-color-torturing business, these days. If you wanna know... I didn't torture nobody. What's the matter with you, saying that goddamn stuff on TV? My momma watches that station!
Mildred Hayes: — Your momma doesn't know about the torturing?
Jason Dixon: — No, she doesn't know anything about it. She's against that kinda thing.
Bill Willoughby: — Who's against what?
Jason Dixon: — My mama... momma is against persons-of-color-torturing. She said, "Nigger-torturing." I said, "You can't say 'nigger-torturing' no more. "You gotta say persons-of-color-torturing." Isn't that right, Chief? Ain't that right?
Bill Willoughby: — I think I'll be able to take care of Mrs. Hayes on my own from here on, Jason.
— What's Charlie think about these here billboards of yours, an ex-cop like Charlie?
— Ex-cop, ex-wife-beater. Same difference, I guess, right?