Lt. Frank Drebin: Hector Savage. From Detroit. Ex-boxer. His real name was Joey Chicago.
Ed Hocken: Oh, yeah. He fought under the name of Kid Minneapolis.
Nordberg: I saw Kid Minneapolis fight once. In Cincinnati.
Lt. Frank Drebin: No you're thinking of Kid New York. He fought out of Philly.
Ed Hocken: He was killed in the ring in Houston. By Tex Colorado. You know, the Arizona Assassin.
Nordberg: Yeah, from Dakota. I don't remember it was North or South.
Lt. Frank Drebin: North. South Dakota was his brother. From West Virginia.
Ed Hocken: You sure know your boxing.
Lt. Frank Drebin: All I know is never bet on the white guy.
[Nordberg nods in agreement]

Lt. Frank Drebin: Now, Jane, what can you tell us about the man you saw last night?
Jane Spencer: He's Caucasian.
Ed Hocken: Caucasian?
Jane Spencer: Yeah, you know, a white guy. A moustache. About six-foot-three.
Lt. Frank Drebin: Awfully big moustache.

Dr. Mainheimer: It's a terrible thing that's happened here, Lieutenant. I do hope you will find the people responsible.
Lt. Frank Drebin: I'm sorry I can't be more optimistic, Doctor, but we've got a long road ahead of us. It's like having sex. It's a painstaking and arduous task that seems to go on and on forever, and just when you think things are going your way, nothing happens.

Lt. Frank Drebin: How are the children?
Jane Spencer: We didn't have any children.
Lt. Frank Drebin: Yes, of course.
Jane Spencer: How was your prostate operation?
Lt. Frank Drebin: Oh, good. Fine. Never been better.

[sings] Oh say can you see / By the dawn's early light / What so proudly we hail / In the twilight's last gleaming? / Whose bright stripes and broad stars / In the perilous night / For the ramparts we watched / uh, da-da-da-da-da-daaaa. / And the rocket's red glare / Lots of bombs in the air / Gave proof to the night / That we still had our flag. / Oh say does that flag banner wave / Over a-a-all that's free / And the home of the land / And the land of the - FREE!

Vincent Ludwig: Drebin!
Jane: Frank!
Frank: You're both right.

Jane: How about a rain check?
Frank: Well, let's just stick to dinner.

Jane: I'm boiling a roast. How hot and wet do you like it?
Frank: Very hot, and awfully wet.

Frank: A good cop - needlessly cut down by some cowardly hoodlums.
Ed: No way for a man to die.
Frank: No... you're right, Ed. A parachute not opening... that's a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine... having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that's the way I wanna go.
Wilma Nordberg: [cries] Oh... Frank. This is terrible.
Ed: Don't you worry Wilma. Your husband is going to be alright. Don't you worry about anything. Just think positive. Never let a doubt enter your mind.
Frank: He's right, Wilma. But I wouldn't wait until the last minute to fill out those organ donor cards.
[Wilma cries again]
Ed: What I'm trying to say is that Wilma, as soon as Nordburg is better, he's welcome back at Police Squad.
Frank: Unless he's a drooling vegetable. But I think that's only common sense...
[Wilma cries again]

Ed: You want to take a dingy?
Frank: No, I took care of that at the press conference.

[narrating] The attempt on Nordberg's life left me shaken and disturbed, and all the questions kept coming up over and over again, like bubbles in a case of club soda. Who was this character in the hospital? And why was he trying to kill Nordberg? And for whom? Did Ludwig lie to me? I didn't have any proof, but, somehow, I didn't entirely trust him, either. Why was the I Luv You not listed in Ludwig's records? And if it was, did he know about it? And if he didn't, who did? And where the hell was I?

Frank

I'd known her for years. We used to go to all the police functions together. Ah, how I loved her, but she had her music. I think she had her music. She'd hang out with the Chicago Male Chorus and Symphony. I don't recall her playing an instrument or be able to carry a tune. Yet she was on the road 300 days of the year. In fact I bought her a harp for christmas. She asked me what it was.

Frank

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