Sergeant Al Powell Quotes in Die Hard (1988)

Hans Gruber: Touching, Cowboy, touching. Or should I call you, Mr. McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of the New York Police Department?

Richard Thornburg: Get on the phone to Harry in New York. Come on, baby, move, move.

Thornburg's Assistant: Got it.

Sergeant Al Powell: Better get a hold of somebody in dispatch.

John McClane: Sister Teresa called me Mr. McClane in the third grade. My friends call me John, and you're neither, shit-head.

Hans Gruber: I have someone who wants to talk to you; a very special friend who was with you at the party tonight.

Harry Ellis: [Hans hands him the walkie talkie] Hey, John boy.

John McClane: Ellis?

Harry Ellis: Yeah. Now listen, John, they're giving me a few minutes to try to talk some sense into you. I know you think you're doing your job, John, and I can appreciate that, but, you're just dragging this thing out. Now look, no one gets outta here until these guys can talk to the *LA* police, and that just ain't gonna happen until you stop messin' up the works, capisci?

John McClane: Ellis, what have you told them?

Harry Ellis: I told 'em we were old friends and you were my guest at the party.

John McClane: Ellis, you shouldn't be doin' this.

Harry Ellis: Tell me about it. Alright, John, listen. They want you to tell them where the detonators are. They know people are listening. They want the detonators or they're gonna kill me.

[pause]

Harry Ellis: John, didn't you hear me?

John McClane: Yeah, I hear you.

Harry Ellis: Hey, John, I think you can get with the program a little, huh? The police are here now, it's their problem. Now tell these guys where the detonators are so no one else gets hurt, you know I'm putting my life on the line for you, pal.

John McClane: Ellis, listen to me very carefully.

Harry Ellis: John?

John McClane: Shut up Ellis, just shut your mouth! Put Hans back on the line.

[Ellis holds the walkie talkie up]

John McClane: Hans, this shit-head does not know what kind of man you are, but I do. Listen to me!

Hans Gruber: Good. Then, you'll give us what we want and save your friend's life. You're not part of this equation this time, you realize that.

[presents his gun]

Harry Ellis: Hey, what am I, a method actor? Hans, babe, put away the gun, this is radio, not television.

John McClane: [nervously yelling] Hans, this asshole is not my friend, I just met him tonight, I don't know him. Jesus Christ, Ellis these people are gonna kill you, tell them, you don't know me.

Harry Ellis: John, how can you say that after all these years, huh? John?

[gets no response]

Harry Ellis: John?

[still gets no response, then laughs slightly, then Hans shoots him in the head]

Hans Gruber: [he puts the walkie talkie up to the screaming crowd, then yells into the walkie talkie] You hear that? Talk to me, where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I might get to someone you *do* care about!

John McClane: Go fuck yourself, Hans.

Sergeant Al Powell: I shot a kid. He was 13 years old. Ohhh, it was dark, I couldn't see him. He had a ray gun, looked real enough. You know, when you're a rookie, they can teach you everything about bein' a cop except how to live with a mistake. Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to draw my gun on anybody again.

Dwayne T. Robinson: Did you hear that? He just let the guy die, man. He just gave him up. Gimme that headset. That's like pullin' the trigger yourself.

Sergeant Al Powell: Christ, man. Can't you see what's happening? Can't you read between the lines?

Dwayne T. Robinson: Cold. This on the right channel?

Cop: Yes, sir.

Sergeant Al Powell: He did everything he could to save him. If he gave himself up, they'd both be dead right now.

Dwayne T. Robinson: Oh, no way, man, no way. They'd be talking to us. Listen, you tell this partner of yours, Powell, to stay the hell out of this from now on, do you hear me? Because, if he doesn't, I'm gonna nail him, boy. I'm really gonna nail his ass, now, believe me.

Sergeant Al Powell: The man is hurting! He is alone, tired, and he hasn't seen diddly-squat from anybody down here. Now you're gonna stand there and tell me that he's gonna give a damn about what you do to him, *if* he makes it out of there alive? Why don't you wake up and smell what you shoveling?

Dwayne T. Robinson: You listen to me, Sergeant. Any time you wanna go home, you consider yourself dismissed.

Sergeant Al Powell: No, sir. You couldn't drag me away.

Sergeant Al Powell: [over radio] Hey, John? John McClane you still with us?

John McClane: Yeah. But all things being equal, I'd rather be in Philadelphia. Chalk up two more bad guys.

[Begins removing glass from foot]

Sergeant Al Powell: Well, the boys down here will be glad to hear that. You know we got a pool going on you.

John McClane: What kind of odds am I getting?

Sergeant Al Powell: You don't wanna know.

John McClane: Put me down for twenty, I'm good for it.

[pulls shard of glass from foot]

John McClane: . Hey pal, you got flat feet?

Sergeant Al Powell: What the hell you talking about, man.

John McClane: Something had to get you off the street.

Sergeant Al Powell: What's the matter? You don't think jockeying papers around a desk is a noble effort for a cop?

John McClane: No...

Sergeant Al Powell: I had an accident.

John McClane: The way you drive, I can see why. What'd you do? Run over your captains foot with the car?

Sergeant Al Powell: I shot a kid. He was 13 years old. Oh, it was dark, I couldn't see him, he had a ray gun, looked real enough. You know when you're a rookie they can teach you everything about being a cop, except how to live with a mistake. Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to draw my gun on anyone again.

John McClane: ...Sorry man.

Sergeant Al Powell: Hey Roy, how you feeling?

John McClane: Pretty fuckin' unappreciated, Al.

Cop: Sir, the FBI is here.

Dwayne T. Robinson: Oh, the FBI is here, now?

Cop: Yes, sir. Right over there.

Dwayne T. Robinson: Hold this.

[straightens his jacket]

Sergeant Al Powell: Want a breath mint?

Dwayne T. Robinson: We don't know shit, Powell. If there's hostages, how come nobody's come to us with ransom demands, huh? If there's terrorists in there, where's their list of demands? All we know is that somebody shot your car up. It's probably the same silly son of a bitch you've been talking to on that radio.

Sergeant Al Powell: Excuse me, sir! But what about the body that fell out the window?

Dwayne T. Robinson: Well, who knows? Probably some stockbroker, got depressed.

Sergeant Al Powell: [about McClane] In fact, I think he's a cop. Maybe not LAPD, but he's definitely a badge.

Dwayne T. Robinson: How do you know that?

Sergeant Al Powell: A hunch, things he said. Like being able to spot a phony ID.

Dwayne T. Robinson: Jesus Christ, Powell, he could be a fucking bartender for all we know.

John McClane: [after McClane sets off massive explosion] Is the building on fire?

Sergeant Al Powell: No, but it's gonna need a paint job and a shit load of screen doors.

Convenience Store Clerk: [Powell with an armload of Twinkies] I thought you guys just ate doughnuts.

Sergeant Al Powell: Heh. They're for my wife.

Convenience Store Clerk: [sarcastically] Yeah.

Sergeant Al Powell: She's pregnant.

Convenience Store Clerk: Yeah.

Sergeant Al Powell: Bag it.

Convenience Store Clerk: Big time.

Sergeant Al Powell: [after the FBI cuts the power to the building] Well, what are we gonna do now? Arrest them for not paying their electric bill?

FBI Agent Johnson: We've shut them down. We let 'em sweat for a while, then... we give 'em helicopters.

FBI Special Agent Johnson: Right up the ass.

John McClane: These guys are mostly European judging by their clothing labels and...

[long pause]

John McClane: cigarettes. They're well-financed and very slick.

Sergeant Al Powell: Well, now, how do you know that?

John McClane: I've seen enough phony ID's in my time to recognize that the ones they got must have cost a fortune. Add all that up, I don't know what the fuck it means, but you got some bad-ass perpetrators and they're here to stay.

Sergeant Al Powell: I hear ya, partner. And L.A.'s finest are on it.

Convenience Store Clerk: [walks up to the counter with an armful of Twinkies, the clerk checks him out] Thought you guys just ate donuts.

Sergeant Al Powell: [chuckles] They're for my wife.

Convenience Store Clerk: [disbelieving but going along with it] Yeah.

Sergeant Al Powell: She's pregnant.

Convenience Store Clerk: [still playing along] Yeah.

Sergeant Al Powell: Bag it.

Convenience Store Clerk: Big time.