Homicide: Life on the Street1993

[Mike Logan is transporting a prisoner from New York to Baltimore, where he is greeted by Pembleton]

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
Detective Frank Pembleton? Mike Logan, NYPD. This is your prisoner, R. Vincent Smith.

Det. Frank Pembleton:
So, whenever you decide to show up, I'm supposed to be here?

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
Hey, you're on the clock same as me, what difference does it make?

Det. Frank Pembleton:
Typical Big Apple attitude.

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
Anyway, Mr. Smith here has agreed to waive extradition on a felony warrant for second-degree murder. So they call this Charm City, huh? Sounds like something you get out of a box of Cracker Jacks. Who'd want to stay in this land of enchantment?

Det. Frank Pembleton:
Plenty of New Yorkers *ran* down here to Baltimore. Dorothy Parker, for example.

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
Dorothy who?

R. Vincent Smith:
Parker, you illiterate. [Logan slaps the back of Smith's head]

Det. Frank Pembleton:
Dorothy Parker was the wittiest woman in America. The *toast* of Manhattan. She dies, she's cremated. Her ashes sit in a jar in some Wall Street lawyer's office for twenty years - *twenty years* - while all the New York sophisticates ham and haw, 'whatsoever shall we do with poor Dorothy's ashes?' And where does she end up? Baltimore!

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
I got two words for you guys. Babe Ruth. The Babe. King of Swing, Sultan of Swat, born right here in Baltimore. But where does he go to get his fame and fortune? New York City.

R. Vincent Smith:
Edgar Allen Poe. Edgar Allen Poe hated New York so much he had to come to Baltimore to die! That's what New York does to its poets.

NYPD Det. Mike Logan:
What did he die of, the local crab cakes? Enjoy your stay, Shakespeare.

Det. Frank Pembleton:
You're going to jail for this murder. But thank your lucky stars it's not gonna be in New York.

R. Vincent Smith:
Why do you think I didn't fight extradition? I may be guilty, but I'm no fool.