And neither does the conversation with the mob. I forget who said a mob is only as smart as its dumbest member, but it's appropriate here. One man says, "We're heroes, man." A second says, "They have no respect for our laws." And those laws include the one permitting people to beat the crap out of anyone on the flimsiest of suspicions? Brass, who's already looking harried, asks, "Who?" A third mob member drawls, "That damn cabbie." Brass shoots back, "Why? Because he's not from Vegas?" Who is? That place reflects Nevada's average population, eighty percent of which (as of the 1990 census) were originally from someplace else. Another mob guy replies, "Because he's not from here, this country." Brass says heatedly, "And you know that because you saw his birth certificate." Yet another member of the Mensa mob comments, "We didn't exactly need to see it. We only need to make a false inference based upon a premise that has dubious and unsubstantiated origin." Or maybe he just stopped after that first sentence. Brass says, "Tell me what you did see." The same guy replies, "He hit the boy." The first man to speak interjects, "Then he hits his brakes, and I figure he's going to stop and do the right thing." And that would be performing gastrointestinal surgery in the street? Loudly swearing a citizenship oath as he hurries around to the back of the cab? Another guy says, "Instead, he jumps back into his cab." Clearly, this man is unacquainted with the miracle of talking wires, and thus cannot grasp the concept of radio communication. One guy says, "Hey, if it wasn't for us, he'd have gotten away." True -- because none of them can read a license plate or the number a cab typically has on its side, and thus call the cops with that information. Another eedjit says, "Citizen's arrest, yo." Guy Number One says, "People are going to want our autographs." The sad thing is, given the amount of pseudo-celebrity the merely notorious garner, he's probably right.
Gil, palpable waves of contempt rolling off him, interjects, "I don't want your autograph, but I would like your photograph and a bit of your DNA, so line up." The mob goes to protest, and Brass snaps, "Look, the guy that you 'arrested' is in critical condition. That makes you all suspects in a battery." The bald guy says, "Figures. You know, we do something good, you guys try to turn around and pin it on us." What else is included in their definition of "good"? Kneecapping people who violate the ten-items-or-less rule in the express lane at the grocery store? One guy comments, "If we were wearing badges, you'd be throwing us a tickertape parade." Or we'd be prosecuting you. Just ask Clarence Mabanag, Jude Siapno, and Matthew Hornung of the notorious "Oakland Riders," or Rafael Perez, one of the problematic CRASH unit cops brought down by the LAPD's Rampart scandal. Brass merely settles for saying, "If you're wearing badges, I'm playing left wing in the NHL." One guy says, "I know my rights -- I don't have to give you squat." Brass decides that he's through being charming: "Let me tell you how this goes down if you don't cooperate. You all get a free ride in the cruiser down to the station, where I hold you there until the warrants clear. So what's it gonna be? It's your choice. Line up, single file." Go, Brass! It's your eppy! Go, Brass! Get your perp on! Gil steps in, raises the camera, and with the barest of smiles, aims at one of the guys and quips, "Say 'cheese'!" Then he begins the swabbing.