Hollywood Road

Due to the late hour, the restaurant wasn't very crowded. Besides the two black men sitting at a table, there were four or five other patrons in the corners, and the waitstaff were all near the counter. From the transparent glass walls, the situation inside the restaurant was clearly visible, ensuring optimal filming conditions.

While dialing 911, Murphy also activated his phone's recording function. It's always good to be prepared.

"This is 911. What's your emergency?"

A woman's voice came through the receiver. "What's your situation?"

"Hello, I'd like to report something," Murphy said, keeping his eyes fixed on the two black men through the glass wall. "I know the location of the two perpetrators from last night's robbery and murder on Bill Road in Santa Monica Valley."

The operator immediately asked, "Where are you now?"

"I'm following them," Murphy had his story ready. "They just parked at the corner of Ronald Avenue and Seventh Street in Beverly Hills. They're inside a chain pizza restaurant called 'Mort's.' I can see them ordering food."

"Alright," the operator confirmed. "Is it the 'Mort's' pizza restaurant at the corner of Ronald Avenue and Seventh Street in Beverly Hills?"

"Yes, that's the place!"

Seeing the waitstaff bringing food to the two black men, Murphy paused slightly before continuing, "I'm certain these are the two men who committed the crime last night."

"Can you briefly describe their appearance?"

Hearing this, Murphy's lips curled up slightly. "Of course! One black man is wearing a striped jacket, the other a beige long shirt. They are both bald, around thirty years old. There are only these two black men in the restaurant."

"Sir..."

Perhaps because of the reward involved, the operator asked, "What's your name and how can we contact you?"

"Murphy, Murphy Stanton," Murphy answered promptly. "This is my phone number."

He added deliberately, "I think they have guns!"

"You say they are armed?"

Murphy was ready to end the call. "Sorry, I have to hang up now. I think they have noticed me."

Of course, this was an excuse. Hanging up and putting away his phone, Murphy took the camcorder from the passenger seat, turned it on, and aimed it through the lowered car window at the two black men in the restaurant.

He focused intently, aiming to capture his directed play with precision and quality.

The crime had occurred in a wealthy area of Santa Monica, and this was the famous Beverly Hills. Murphy believed the police wouldn't ignore his tip and would send officers immediately.

Would the two criminals surrender quietly?

Judging by last night's scene, the chances were almost zero. Such ruthless individuals would surely resist arrest.

Although Murphy hadn't seen the two men carrying guns, he guessed the likelihood of a shootout was very high.

Just imagine, a real police shootout—compared to the classical realism of the gunfight in Michael Mann's "Heat," this upcoming scene would be far more authentic.

Getting a chance to film a super intense shootout before even entering Hollywood was incredibly rare.

More importantly, once he captured the gunfight, how much could he sell the news video for?

The traffic thinned, and the surroundings grew quieter. The occasional night breeze brought a slight chill into the car, and sweat dotted Murphy's forehead. Despite the play unfolding as planned, he felt a surge of tension as the climax approached.

Time seemed to stand still. Murphy held his breath, watching the two black men through the camcorder as they continued eating, showing no signs of leaving soon.

A police car silently turned onto the street, coming from Murphy's opposite direction. It stopped near the pizza restaurant, and two officers got out, walking towards the front entrance.

"It's finally happening!"

Murphy muttered to himself, switching the camcorder to a wide-angle lens, capturing the officers as they approached the restaurant door.

The officers entered the restaurant, seemingly ignoring the two black men, and headed straight for the counter as if they were just there to buy snacks.

But their presence obviously made the two black men wary. Through the camcorder, Murphy clearly saw the men reach into their clothes, with the heavier one placing something under the table.

Murphy had chosen his parking spot carefully. From this angle, he could see under the table. Switching to a close-up lens, he captured the image of a black M9 pistol, its barrel pointed towards the officers.

Murphy controlled the camcorder, alternating between wide-angle and close-up shots like a dedicated director-cinematographer, meticulously capturing every critical moment.

So far, the location, background, and main actors from both sides were all in place. Murphy was just waiting for the shootout to start.

However, the two black men remained relatively restrained, unsure of why the police were there. After all, the officers might just be there for some pizza.

Another police car arrived, stopping near the first one. Two more officers got out and approached the restaurant.

These officers moved slowly, checking their guns as they approached, though they put them back in their holsters, clearly ready for action.

Murphy's lens temporarily left the restaurant, focusing on the two approaching officers, then following them back into the restaurant.

Though the officers also headed towards the counter, seemingly just there for a snack, the two black men's expressions changed. In the close-up shot, Murphy saw them whispering before the heavier man stood up.

"Oh, God!"

Murphy saw clearly that as the heavier man stood, he raised the M9 pistol, aiming it at one of the approaching officers.

The officers reacted quickly, reaching for their guns as the man stood up.

"Bang! Bang..."

Gunfire erupted. One officer was hit, blood spurting as he fell backward. The two black men fired at the officers, who returned fire.

The heavier man was the second to be hit. The bullet seemed to hit his head, and at such close range from a large-caliber handgun, his skull exploded in a spray of blood, staining the glass wall behind him.

Only then did the other patrons, previously paralyzed with fear, start screaming.

Perhaps because they lived in a country rife with gun violence, these patrons had been taught not to run wildly when scared. Instead, they ducked under tables, avoiding harm.

Though whispering a prayer, Murphy's hands remained steady, capturing everything.

The restaurant gunfight was more real and brutal than any movie scene.

In just a few seconds, the second officer was hit. Blood pooled around him, drawing everyone's attention.

The remaining black man was ferocious. After shooting the second officer, he turned and fired at the glass wall, which shattered like broken ice. He then sprinted to the alley, jumping into the black car.

The officers continued firing, but unlike in movies, hitting a speeding vehicle's occupant was nearly impossible.

The black car sped out of the alley, turning onto the road where Murphy's Ford was parked. Murphy saw more police cars arriving to pursue the fleeing suspect. He quickly captured a final wide-angle shot of the restaurant before mounting the camcorder on the passenger seat to film the chase.

Up front, the black man was fleeing for his life; a police car was close behind; and Murphy followed, his camcorder recording everything.

The car's speed increased, reaching seventy miles per hour, but neither the criminal nor the police, nor Murphy, showed any sign of slowing.

Approaching an intersection, the black car encountered a red light but didn't stop, barreling through.

This was Beverly Hills, one of the busiest areas in Los Angeles. Even late at night, there were many vehicles.

In movies, running red lights in traffic usually ends safely, but reality isn't a movie.

The black car shot through the intersection, only to be struck by a speeding Chevrolet SUV.

The ear-piercing sound of metal crashing echoed. The black car, hit by the much heavier SUV, lost control and rolled sideways.

This was a busy intersection, and the rolling car caused a chain reaction, with various vehicles crashing into each other like bumper cars in chaos.

Murphy braked hard, his Ford stopping just outside the intersection. Seeing the scene, he grabbed the camcorder from the passenger seat, switching to manual filming.

Not only that, Murphy jumped out of his car, running to the crash site to find the best angle to capture this rare accident.

At this moment, the door of the black car at the center of the crash, now deformed, was kicked open. A bloodied man staggered out, using his free hand to prop himself up, trying to stand.

Murphy wasn't the only one out of his car; the pursuing officers had also exited. Seeing the bloodied black man trying to get up, the officers, slowly approaching, pulled their triggers...