Battle Creek

Battle Creek Police.

That's perfect. Thank you.

It's blurry.

It's a phone... it doesn't have an optical zoom.

It's blurry! It's useless!

- I'm gonna die because you guys...! - Shh, come on, hey, hey.

- (door opens) Bingo. Camera.

I'm still gonna die.

You're not going to die, Teddy.

Dying was never an option.

Cooperate or go to jail; that was the complete list.

He's psycho, man, he smokes more meth than he sells.

- Uh, Russ? - Yo?

Where'd you get this?

Oh, yeah, try not to tape over that.

Okay.

- (slamming) - Hey, Font?

What's wrong with the wire?

Why isn't the red light coming on?

Who sells your equipment... Goodwill?

What are we gonna do, Russ? We gotta be able to record this buy.

Oh, I know, I know, um...

Okay, um,

Teddy calls us from his phone and he puts it on speaker.

Yeah, and as soon as a horn honks

anywhere within the block, I get to get raped.

- We'll mute it. - And just leave it on the table?

Tell him to speak loudly?

No, you cover it up.

Yeah, and tell him to yell?

You're done, man.

This is pathetic. You're done.

B to the O to the N-E-D!

Oh, Font, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Doesn't your sister live near here?

Yeah. Why?

Didn't she just have a baby?

Unbelievable.

- (crackling) Can you hear me?

Of course you can't hear me.

I'm talking to myself and I'm gonna get raped.

Here he comes, here he comes.

- (monitor crackles) Hey, buddy, what's up?

How you been?

Can't complain.

Yeah? Excellent.

How's, uh, how's tricks?

"How's tricks?"

You got my money?

Absolutely, right here.

You're welcome to count it, if you want.

Yeah, that's cool, go ahead and count it.

Cool.

What the hell was that?

What the hell was that?

I didn't hear anything.

Battery low? I put in new...

Our batteries?

Oh, God.

What the hell?

- You're wired? - No!

Someone must have left it.

- Go! - (horn honking)

I mean, what sort of idiotic cops would use a baby...?

Shoot him! Shoot him in the head!

Hold him back, hold him back.

Oh, geez.

Dear Lesley Stahl.

Knowing your show and its long history

of investigating injustice,

I believe I have a story

which will intrigue your viewers.

I write to you from Battle Creek, Michigan,

a vibrant Midwestern city of 50,000.

I'm a senior detective with the Battle Creek Police.

Damn it.

The fine men and women of my department...

Heroes all... are understaffed and underfunded.

We are forced to make do with substandard

and out-of-date equipment.

Ms. Stahl,

I urge you to bring your 60 Minutes crew to Battle Creek.

I say this, dreading the attention it will heap upon us.

However, the safety of my fellow officers

is far too important.

There he is, French Connection.

- Hey, hey. - (excited chattering)

French Connection ends with the bad guys

- getting away, Funkhauser. - I know that.

- But drugs, right? - Yeah.

You know what I mean. Good job.

Hey, I brought éclairs.

I'll put them right here.

Congratulations.

Hey.

- Oh, Russ. - (groans)

- No, no, no. - Does it hurt?

No, it's okay. It's nothing.

I, um, I brought éclairs.

Oh, uh, yum. Yay.

I-I put a requisition in, like,

for more space six months ago.

D-Do you know if the city

gave us their old planning offices?

I-I don't think so.

Mm, they got carpeting.

Right. Thanks.

Oh, did you see, there was a great write-up about your bust.

Just wish they'd mention you and Font by name.

Oh, we're cops...

We're not movie stars, right?

("Flight of the Bumblebee" playing over video)

Might want to fast-forward through this.

It's, uh, it's later on.

I've seen it.

Boy, is she a cutie.

Great job yesterday.

Commander, yesterday's bust

should've gone by the numbers.

We could shoot people instead.

Is that what you want?

We're not shooting enough people?

We need new equipment;

new to this world, not just new to this precinct.

Okay, we need the latest training.

We need everything.

Or we could shoot people. I don't mind shooting people.

But something's gotta change.

Great news.

We're getting help.

* For he's a jolly good fellow *

Thank you. Thank you guys.

Milt.

I'm no good at these things,

but I gotta say

that you've been an asset to this office,

and I don't know where I'd be without you,

and I'm a little scared to find out.

So, good luck.

To both of us.

Yeah, hear, hear. Hear, hear.

Hear, hear. Good luck.

Kenny...

everybody, really.

- (sighs) - I'm no good at these things, either.

Milt, you're good at everything.

- (laughter, murmurs) - Thank you, Sandy.

Uh...

I'm touched.

All right.

Our loss is Battle Creek's gain.

Good riddance, you miserable sack...

Damn. Even their seal is nicer than ours.

Why do we need an FBI office?

What, did two million people

move to Battle Creek this morning?

It's just a resident agency.

- (phone rings) - Uh, an FBI satellite office.

Detective Squad. Agnew speaking.

I want to file a morality complaint.

Is this Russell?

Hello, Mrs. Seymour.

You still out of your mind?

Let me guess, nice young man with a mustache?

There's this nice young man

with a mustache

who's being kept by an older man

with a mustache. Every single day.

He has to wear short shorts. Always.

- (meows) - It's obscene.

I'll tell you what, Mrs. Seymour.

First thing next week, I'll fly to Hawaii

and I'll arrest Tom Selleck for you. How's that?

Well, I-I wish you would.

Okay, take care of yourself.

Sad story.

Eh, it's not so bad.

I mean, it would've been nice

if they'd mentioned our names, but...

I was talking about the girl who OD'd.

Oh. Right. Yeah, no, that was...

really sad.

Milt?