Conversation · Titus Hardie

The little rat-faced man reaches into his sleeve... there's a knife in there! Some of the others reach for their belts.

"I'm going to ask you again, Titus. Why'd you kill him?"

"Who called the shots that night?"

"Are you deaf? There will be no singling anyone out. You can't arrest a Hardie boy without arresting all Hardie boys."

"Do you think you could do that? Do you think you could arrest them all?" A shadow of a smirk passes her lips, as she tilts her head.

A trick question. Don't let her lead the conversation.

Titus. Keep addressing him. He wants everyone to know he's in charge.

(Address Elizabeth.) "I don't have to. One of them was more complicit than others."

"That's for the courts in Le Jardin to decide, not for the officer making an arrest. Which we all know you won't be."

She sounds almost helpful: "What you can do right now is go back to your station and write a report."

"No, no," the lieutenant says, calmly. "We'll stay here and discuss what happened that night."

But... they don't want you back at the station, do they?

She probably knows you're not welcome there... somehow she does.

(Address Titus.) "No, but seriously -- who calls the shots around here?"

"Who do you fucking think does?" He sounds more amused than angry.

He's so sure it's him -- but it's not that simple. There's someone above him (or beside him?) sharing the leadership. Hard to say who...

(Bow to the bearded man.) "Gangs are usually run by the oldest, most venerable member."

The old man lets out an annoyed cough, then reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

He has authority in the group, but it wasn't him calling the shots that night. Hasn't been him for a long time.

"Theo's a great guy, a great guy, but c'mon..." He spreads his arms. "Titus Hardie runs the Hardie boys. That's why we're called the Hardie boys, genius!"

Titus grins. "I think you got your answer, Mr. Law."

"Yes, there are some administrative differences," she gives Titus a stern look, "but on that night they all acted as one man."

(Point at Elizabeth.) "I thought she did."

"It wasn't a question, dickwad! How fucking stupid are you?"

"This asshole is worse than..." He falls silent. "Titus runs the Hardie boys, genius! That's why we're called the Hardie boys, ain't that right, fellas?"

"It's the eighth Hardie boy. The one who's missing. The big dick."

A moment of silence. The long haired one breaks it: "Titus, no one was thinking..."

That's it. There's some kind of power issue they don't want to admit -- and the missing Hardie is involved.

"...that there's any question who's the leader." That's how he would have ended it. Titus won't let him.

"No, no, no..." He shakes his head: "FUCK NO! The big dick is right here, asshole! You're looking at it!" He grabs his crotch. "Right fucking here!"

"Disregard the outburst, officer." She gives Titus a condescending glance. "None of the boys have any more comments on their power relations. That night they acted as one. That's all."

(Point at the harbour.) "Evrart Claire runs the Union. You answer to him, right?"

"You keep him the fuck out of this." He leans toward you. "We have autonomy. It's all on us. Evrart runs the Union -- I run the Hardie boys."

You stepped on some big toes there. Tried to take out a satellite. That's not how it's going to go. They'd rather rot in jail than implicate Mr. Claire in this mess.

When the shit starts spinning it will not land on Mr. Claire -- that's the deal here. The fixer will ignore the notion completely, focusing on Titus' culpability.

"When Titus Hardie says he runs the Hardie boys," the woman adds, "he means that in an administrative capacity. On that night everyone acted as one man."

(Point at Fat-Angus.) "The biggest animal dominates the herd. I'm guessing it's the big one."

The sweaty man turns red and looks first down, then around him, apologetically.

He wasn't calling the shots that night... or any night. If anything, he was used as a tool -- for carrying, or clean-up.

"It's not the fat-ass!" the scrawny guy shrieks. "Titus runs the Hardie boys, genius! That's why we're called the Hardie boys, ain't that right, fellas?"

(Point at Titus.) "You do. You give the commands."

"That's right, asshole! Titus Hardie runs the Hardie boys! Ain't that so, fellas?" He looks around for approval.

Titus grins. "I think you got your answer, Mr. Law."

"No. You did not get an answer. Titus does administrative work. He pushes paper. Fills out forms -- the others can't read. But on that night they all acted as one man."

"No." The woman interjects. "These seven honest men have equally come forth. They told you what happened -- so that you don't waste any more of your time."

"That's it, the game's over. I got the perpetrator!"

"No, you don't. What you have is seven honest men, who thought it forthcoming to tell you what happened -- so that you don't waste any more of your time."

"No, you don't. What you have is seven honest men, who thought it forthcoming to tell you what happened -- so that you don't waste any more of your time."

(Squint your eyes.) "But there's a catch..."

"There is no catch. These seven honest men have all equally come forth to tell you what happened -- so that you don't waste any more of your time."

"There is no catch. These seven honest men have all equally come forth to tell you what happened -- so that you don't waste any more of your time."

"Why are your boot prints all over the scene?"

"You mean these boots?" He raises his worker boot -- size 46, steel reinforced toe.

"Yes."

"We all got a pair." He squints. "We wore them the night we took the Pretty Boy out back and hung him. By the neck."

As he speaks, his fists contract, going through the pulling motion again, savouring it.

"Yeah, we did this." He looks you dead in the eye. "Together. All of us. Until he was dead. That's why our prints are all over the scene."

"Why was there a Vermillion belt around his neck?"

"Vermillion? Like we use in the harbour?"

"Yes."