Mr. Hayes: All right, Billy. I know it sounds tought, but we are going to get you out! I promise you. I don't want you to get stupid and pull anything. They can play with your sentence. All right. Now, I'm putting 500 dollars in the bank. Anything you need, you write. There's food here. There's candy. And there's writing paper. Books. Cigarettes. Soap. Toothbrush.
[Empties bag onto table, slams it down]
Mr. Hayes: I've been writing insurance policies for 30 goddamn years and now I've got to see my own son - Jesus. Jesus! Billy, if I could be where you are... I'd be there.
Billy Hayes: I love you, Dad.
[Guards take him away]
Mr. Hayes: [to Hamidou] You take good care of my boy, you hear? Or I'll have your fuckin' head, you Turkish bastard!