Homicide Squad Quotes

(sergeant thinking about an excellent detective who's threatening to quit) For a squad sergeant, having Worden working for you was like having sex: When it was good it was great and even when it wasn't so hot, it was still pretty damn good.

I just thought that a man, or in this case a woman, never gets too busy to attend his or her own funeral. You can be late for everything else but this.

Why do good girls like bad boys?

Why do good girls like bad boys? Because when they’re bad, they’re good.

I'm at my best when I break and solve a case and...a woman.

Who you are, you say, isn’t important, but who I am you don't want to know. I warn you all. Don’t. You’re opening Pandora’s Box.

You're with Rapier squad. Mopping-up detail, under Sergeant Gortoss." He gestured along the corridor in the opposite direction from where Ross had just come. "Turn left at the first pile of flaming debris and look for the most homicidally deranged bastard you can find. Ordinarily he'd be in a maximum-security prison, but when there's a war on, he's just the kind of chap you want inside the tent pissing out." "Yes sir," said Ross, by which he meant, "Holy mother of fuck.

...a house divided against itself will fall.

You know that I care for you, but if you don’t care for yourself, it’s over before it started.

I started a lyric for this song “Godwhacker,” which Walter and I completed and recorded for a Steely Dan CD. It’s about an elite squad of assassins whose sole assignment is to find a way into heaven and take out God. If the Deity actually existed, what sane person wouldn’t consider this to be justifiable homicide?

French said: “It’s like this with us, baby. We’re coppers and everybody hates our guts. And as if we didn’t have enough trouble, we have to have you. As if we didn’t get pushed around enough by the guys in the corner offices, the City Hall gang, the day chief, the night chief, the Chamber of Commerce, His Honor the Mayor in his paneled office four times as big as the three lousy rooms the whole homicide staff has to work out of. As if we didn’t have to handle one hundred and fourteen homicides last year out of three rooms that don’t have enough chairs for the whole duty squad to sit down in at once. We spend our lives turning over dirty underwear and sniffing rotten teeth. We go up dark stairways to get a gun punk with a skinful of hop and sometimes we don’t get all the way up, and our wives wait dinner that night and all the other nights. We don’t come home any more. And nights we do come home, we come home so goddam tired we can’t eat or sleep or even read the lies the papers print about us. So we lie awake in the dark in a cheap house on a cheap street and listen to the drunks down the block having fun. And just about the time we drop off the phone rings and we get up and start all over again. Nothing we do is right, not ever. Not once. If we get a confession, we beat it out of the guy, they say, and some shyster calls us Gestapo in court and sneers at us when we muddle our grammar. If we make a mistake they put us back in uniform on Skid Row and we spend the nice cool summer evenings picking drunks out of the gutter and being yelled at by whores and taking knives away from greaseballs in zoot suits. But all that ain’t enough to make us entirely happy. We got to have you.” He stopped and drew in his breath. His face glistened a little as if with sweat. He leaned forward from his hips. “We got to have you,” he repeated. “We got to have sharpers with private licenses hiding information and dodging around corners and stirring up dust for us to breathe in. We got to have you suppressing evidence and framing set-ups that wouldn’t fool a sick baby. You wouldn’t mind me calling you a goddam cheap double-crossing keyhole peeper, would you, baby?” “You want me to mind?” I asked him. He straightened up. “I’d love it,” he said. “In spades redoubled.

Doremus, reading the authors he had concealed in the horsehair sofa—the gallant Communist, Karl Billinger, the gallant anti-Communist, Tchernavin, and the gallant neutral, Lorant—began to see something like a biology of dictatorships, all dictatorships. The universal apprehension, the timorous denials of faith, the same methods of arrest—sudden pounding on the door late at night, the squad of police pushing in, the blows, the search, the obscene oaths at the frightened women, the third degree by young snipe of officials, the accompanying blows and then the formal beatings, when the prisoner is forced to count the strokes until he faints, the leprous beds and the sour stew, guards jokingly shooting round and round a prisoner who believes he is being executed, the waiting in solitude to know what will happen, till men go mad and hang themselves—Thus had things gone in Germany, exactly thus in Soviet Russia, in Italy and Hungary and Poland, Spain and Cuba and Japan and China. Not very different had it been under the blessings of liberty and fraternity in the French Revolution. All dictators followed the same routine of torture, as if they had all read the same manual of sadistic etiquette. And now, in the humorous, friendly, happy-go-lucky land of Mark Twain, Doremus saw the homicidal maniacs having just as good a time as they had had in central Europe.

Real Quick" [Intro:] Valuable lesson, man I had to grow up That's why I never ask for help I'll do it for you niggaz and do it for myself [Chorus:] I go 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga! [50 Cent:] I'll run my blade 'cross a nigga ass {"real quick"} I'm so for real I'm on some real real nigga shit You playin boy I'll get you hit {"real quick"} You better hope the parademics come {"real quick"} Got me fucked up you think it's different now a nigga rich Before I get to cuttin know you niggaz better cut the shit Boy, you gon' have ya head popped, pull a trigger for me And my lil' niggaz trigger op' like it's legal homie No game when I bang, boy I empty the clip You run like a bitch, you ain't 'bout that shit Hey hey hey hey, I'll catch you another day day day day It's the Unit back to the bullshit [Tony Yayo:] Yeah! Nothin in life is out of bounds AK hold about a hundred rounds 60 shots like K.D. at the Rucker's Okay! When I see you on respirators Southside nigga 'til the day I'm gone Indulge in the violence when the drama on Yeah, these rap niggaz lukewarm I'm two sleeves of dope, when the mic on [Chorus] [Kidd Kidd:] Real quick, Rida Gang fuck nigga, huh! Don't Tweet me, see me when you see me Down to make the news just to say that I'm on TV (Kidd Kidd) This clip rated R, niggaz PG Them shells burn like a bootleg CD (huh?) Fuck love, I want the money When you get too much of it they gon' say you actin funny "Kidd, how you feel now that the Unit's back?" Like a million bucks, muh'fucker do the math! [Young Buck:] Cold-blooded, boy my heart don't feel shit Get with me, ask 50, I'll take the hit {"real quick"} Balenciagas, you can still get ya ass kicked Take a rapper nigga bitch and make a real flick I know I'm different from what you usually be dealin with Don't need a mic, give me some white to make a million with Single borough, six shots on the Brooklyn Bridge I'll let the nigga Drake tell you what I just did (yeah) [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks:] Nigga gettin money new to you (uh) I give a fuck if shit get ugly, there'll be a beautiful funeral You fit the script I'm gon' assume it's true Can't manuever through the street without a strategy, ain't nobody to tutor you And man was lucky Unit's through, you know why he flows 15 years, switchin dealers like casinos And my goon'll clip you on the arm (uhh) I'm out the country every week and dumpin ash out on the Autobahn Auto-pilot's always on Rather better livin, I've been [?] green bills callin me all day long This is homicide, more tears in your mama eyes More reason to wake up, real niggaz arrive [Chorus]

Burnout is more than an occupational hazard in the homicide unit, it is a psychological certainty. A contagion that spreads from one detective to his partner to a whole squad, the who-really-gives-a-shit attitude threatens not those investigations involving genuine victims -- such cases are, more often than not, the cure for burnout -- but rather those murders in which the dead man is indistinguishable from his killer. An American detective's philosophical cul-de-sac: If a drug dealer falls in West Baltimore and no one is there to hear him, does he make a sound?

Real Quick [Intro:] Valuable lesson, man I had to grow up That's why I never ask for help I'll do it for you niggaz and do it for myself [Chorus:] I go 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga! [50 Cent:] I'll run my blade 'cross a nigga ass {"real quick"} I'm so for real I'm on some real real nigga shit You playin boy I'll get you hit {"real quick"} You better hope the parademics come {"real quick"} Got me fucked up you think it's different now a nigga rich Before I get to cuttin know you niggaz better cut the shit Boy, you gon' have ya head popped, pull a trigger for me And my lil' niggaz trigger op' like it's legal homie No game when I bang, boy I empty the clip You run like a bitch, you ain't 'bout that shit Hey hey hey hey, I'll catch you another day day day day It's the Unit back to the bullshit [Tony Yayo:] Yeah! Nothin in life is out of bounds AK hold about a hundred rounds 60 shots like K.D. at the Rucker's Okay! When I see you on respirators Southside nigga 'til the day I'm gone Indulge in the violence when the drama on Yeah, these rap niggaz lukewarm I'm two sleeves of dope, when the mic on [Chorus] [Kidd Kidd:] Real quick, Rida Gang fuck nigga, huh! Don't Tweet me, see me when you see me Down to make the news just to say that I'm on TV (Kidd Kidd) This clip rated R, niggaz PG Them shells burn like a bootleg CD (huh?) Fuck love, I want the money When you get too much of it they gon' say you actin funny "Kidd, how you feel now that the Unit's back?" Like a million bucks, muh'fucker do the math! [Young Buck:] Cold-blooded, boy my heart don't feel shit Get with me, ask 50, I'll take the hit {"real quick"} Balenciagas, you can still get ya ass kicked Take a rapper nigga bitch and make a real flick I know I'm different from what you usually be dealin with Don't need a mic, give me some white to make a million with Single borough, six shots on the Brooklyn Bridge I'll let the nigga Drake tell you what I just did (yeah) [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks:] Nigga gettin money new to you (uh) I give a fuck if shit get ugly, there'll be a beautiful funeral You fit the script I'm gon' assume it's true Can't manuever through the street without a strategy, ain't nobody to tutor you And man was lucky Unit's through, you know why he flows 15 years, switchin dealers like casinos And my goon'll clip you on the arm (uhh) I'm out the country every week and dumpin ash out on the Autobahn Auto-pilot's always on Rather better livin, I've been [?] green bills callin me all day long This is homicide, more tears in your mama eyes More reason to wake up, real niggaz arrive [Chorus]

...I just engaged my immense desire to sweat the chauvinistic water head a bit in his natural habitat to observe the meltdown. He hasn't changed in that regard." -Atlanta Homicide Detective Selena Monet

Dad, I’m going out in the field later. I’m undercover. Have you forgotten what you used to look like when you were the most respected homicide detective in your squad? Back before you got stuck behind a desk, forced to kiss bureaucratic ass?” His father’s glare was enough to make him back off. “How dare you insult me or my position?” Michaels looked his father in the eye. “I apologize, Sir. That was disrespectful and completely out of line.” “You’re damn right it was.” Michaels sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t know what the hell I have to do to make you proud.” His dad looked at him dolefully before placing his strong hands on both of his shoulders, and turning Michaels to face him. “I am proud of you, son. Everyday. I just—” A sigh escaped his father before he continued. “I just don’t want you limiting yourself. You have the potential to lead, son. It’s in your blood. Following God and Day is not going to put you in that position. You’re the leader, not the follower.” “I can make sergeant, lieutenant and any other rank as long as I continue to be a good cop.  Working with them, I’m able to finally show what I’m capable of. So many departments have egomaniac lieutenants that are so afraid of rules and regulations that they’re barely able to let their detectives make an arrest. I just want to be able to show what I can do, and God and Day let me do that.” “Like dropkicking a man through a window.” He saw the amused glint in his father’s eye. “Yeah. Like that.” Michaels laughed. The story of their last bust - when he’d taken down three men, one of whom he’d kicked through a window - had circulated pretty fast. His father laughed with him, patting his cheek. “I’m damn proud of you, son. I’m just being a father I guess.” “I’m good Dad. Really. I’m happy with what I do. The guys are great, I trust them, and they trust me. We do good work together.” “You do, son. I can’t dispute that. I didn’t mean to insult you, either.” “I know.” His father turned to get in his car. “I’ll see you at the house tomorrow night, right?” “Tomorrow?

Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

In Revelation 6:3-4, John the Baptist opened the second seal, and a red horse appeared. A rider on that red horse was given the power to take away peace from the earth with a great sword. Mankind will kill each other when this red horse is released.

the Serenity Prayer? “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Romans 13:4, “For he [governing authorities] is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.

To all God’s children and creation that suffer heart/soul sickness remember Psalms 34:18: “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.

I’m Detective Pepper Love.

Violence is as American as cherry pie.

was like a brother to me. I gave him money, food, and shelter.

9/11-2001 A day that will live in our hearts forever

Maybe it was due to some cosmic sixth degree of separation appointment with destiny.

seldom ever saw him except when he wanted money.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love and of a sound mind!

I care more than you know. And you know a lot.

For an instant he thought of arguing the point. Then he tossed the idea away, reminding himself that this was Night Squad and there was no arguing with Night Squad. Because they're screwballs, he told himself. Because they're the kind that oughta be in cages and if you get them upset, you're messing with homicidal maniacs.

The twelve of us who covered homicide for the entire city shared a twenty-by-thirty squad room lit by harsh fluorescent lights. My desk was choice—by the window, “cheerily” overlooking the entrance ramp to the freeway.

MACKENZIE MORALES, A.K.A. Mackie, was twenty-six, the single mother of a three-year-old boy. More to the point, she was smart, going for her PhD in psychology. She was working in the homicide squad for no pay, but she was getting credit and doing research for her dissertation on criminal psychopathy.