The Best Carl Hanratty Quotes

[Carl is looking around Frank Abagnale Sr.'s apartment, when he comes through the door]
Frank Abagnale Sr.: [annoyed] Make yourself at home!
Carl: Frank Abagnale Sr.?
Frank Abagnale Sr.: You're not a cop!
Carl: [flashes credentials] Special Agent Hanratty, FBI.
Frank Abagnale Sr.: [now calmer] You're not a cop! My landlord told me you were not a cop. Well, if you're going to arrest me, I'd like to put on a different suit if that's okay with you.
Carl: No, no. I'm not here to arrest you. I'm looking for your son. He's in trouble. Do you know where he is?
Frank Abagnale Sr.: If I tell you where he is, will you promise not to tell his mother?
Carl: Sure.
Frank Abagnale Sr.: Frank made a fake I.D. and enlisted in the Marine Corps. He's over in Vietnam right now. That kid is halfway around the world, crawling through the damn jungle, fighting the Communists so... please, don't come to my home and call my boy a criminal, because that kid has more guts...
Carl: I never said he was a criminal, Mr. Abagnale. I said he was in trouble. If you'd like to give me a call and talk, here's my number.
[Carl grabs a pen from a table filled with letters and writes down his information. As he peers down, he sees a letter from Frank giving his location as Riverbend Apartments, Atlanta, Georgia]
Frank Abagnale Sr.: You're not a father, are you?
Carl: [looks back up] Pardon me?
Frank Abagnale Sr.: If you were a father, you'd know. I would never give up my son. I would never give up my son.
Carl: Yes, sir. I understand.

Carl: But, sir, we're gonna let him get away.
Assistant: No, Carl, you let him get away.

[repeated line]
Carl: How'd you do it, Frank? How did you cheat on the bar exam in Louisiana?

Frank: [of the FBI] Carl, how long do I have to work here?
Carl: 7:15 in the morning, 4:00 in the afternoon, 45 minutes for lunch.
Frank: I mean, how long?
Carl: Every day. Every day, Frank, until we let you go.

Carl: Our unknown subject is a paperhanger who started working on the East Coast. In the last few weeks this unsub has developed a new form of check fraud which I'm calling "the float". What he's doing is opening checking accounts at various banks then chaning the MICR ink routing numbers at the bottom of those checks. Next slide, please. This is a map of the 12 banks of the U.S. Federal Reserve. Slide. MICR scanners at every bank read these numbers at the bottom of the check - slide - and they ship that check off to its corresponding branch.
Special: Carl, for those of us who are unfamiliar with bank fraud you mind telling us what the hell you're talking about?
Carl: The East Coast branches are numbered zero-one to zero-six. The central branch is zero-seven, zero-eight so on, so forth.
Special: You mean the numbers at the bottom of a check actually mean something?
Carl: All of this was in the report I filed two days ago. If you change a zero-two to a one-two that means a check, which was cashed in New York Federal Branch but it is rerouted all the way to San Francisco Federal Branch. The bank doesn't even know the check has bounced for two weeks, which means our unsub can stay in one place, paper the same city over and over again, while his checks circle the country.

Frank: [when Carl catches up to him in the print shop in Montrichard] Carl? Carl! Merry Christmas! How is it we're always talking on Christmas, Carl? Every Christmas, I'm talking to you!
[laughs]
Carl: Put your shirt on, Frank. You're under arrest.

Paula: Just tell me how much he owes and I'll pay you back.
Carl: So far, it's about 1.3 million dollars.

Kid: More coffee, sir?
[notices paperwork]
Kid: Are you a collector?
Carl: Of what?
Kid: Captives of the Cosmic Ray, The Big Freeze, Land of the Golden Giants. I've got em all.
Carl: What are you talking about?
Kid: Barry Allen. The Flash.
[walks away]
Carl: Wait, kid, kid, kid. You mean like the comic book?
Kid: Yeah, the comic book. When he's not The Flash. That's his name, Barry Allen.
Carl: Thank you.
[cut to Carl using a payphone]
Carl: Now get this: he reads comic books. Comic books! Barry Allen is The Flash!
Tom: Carl, slow down, slow down. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.
Carl: He's a kid. Our unsub is a kid. That's why we couldn't match his prints. That's why he doesn't have a record. Now, I want you to contact the NYPD for every all-points juvenile runaways in New York City. And don't forget the airports. He's been kiting checks all over the country.
Tom: But why New York?
Carl: The Yankees! He said something about the Yankees!

[Carl is working alone at his desk at the FBI listening to "Mele Kalikimaka" by Bing Crosby when his phone rings]
Carl: This is Hanratty. Merry Christmas.
Frank: Hello, Carl.
[Carl recognizes Frank's voice and turns his radio down]
Carl: Hello. Barry Allen, Secret Service.
Frank: I've been trying to track you down now for the last couple of hours.
Carl: What do you want?
Frank: I wanted to apologize for what happened in Los Angeles.
Carl: Uh-uh, uh-uh. No, no. You do not apologize to me.
Frank: Do you always work on Christmas Eve, Carl?
Carl: I volunteered... so men with families could go home early.
Frank: Looked like you were wearing a wedding ring out in Los Angeles. I thought maybe you had a family.
Carl: No. No family.
[beat]
Carl: You want to talk to me? Let's talk face-to-face.
Frank: All right. I'm at my suite at the Stuyvesant Arms, room 3113. In the morning, I leave for Las Vegas for the weekend.
[Carl begins writing this down, but then stops himself]
Carl: You think you're gonna get me again? You're not going to Vegas. You're not in the Stuyvesant Arms. You'd love for me to send out 20 agents Christmas Eve, we barge into your hotel, knock on the door so you can make fools out of us all.
Frank: I'm really sorry if I made a fool out of you. I really am.
Carl: Uh-uh. No.
Frank: No, listen, I really am.
Carl: No. No. You-- You do not feel sorry for me. The truth is... I knew it was you. Now maybe I didn't get the cuffs on you, but I knew.
Frank: Ah, people only know what you tell them, Carl.
Carl: Well, then, tell me this, "Barry Allen, Secret Service". How'd you know I wouldn't look in your wallet?
Frank: The same reason the Yankees always win. Nobody can keep their eyes off the pinstripes.
Carl: The Yankees win because they have Mickey Mantle. No one ever bets on the uniform.
Frank: [chuckles] You sure about that, Carl?
Carl: I'll tell you what I am sure of. You're going to get caught. One way or another. It's a mathematical fact. It-- It's like Vegas, the House always wins.
Frank: Well, Carl, I'm sorry but I have to go.
Carl: [realizes something] Ah, you didn't call just to apologize, did you?
[starts laughing]
Frank: What do you mean?
Carl: [still laughing] You -- you have no one else to call!
[laughs louder]
Carl: [Frank hangs up the phone quickly. Back at the FBI, Carl happily turns up his radio and begins singing along. Later, we see Frank exit his hotel room - it is indeed room 3113 at the Stuyvesant Arms, proving Frank was telling Carl the truth]

Carl: Well, would you like to hear me tell a joke?
Earl: Yeah. Yeah, we'd love to hear a joke from you.
Carl: Knock knock.
Earl: Who's there?
Carl: Go fuck yourselves.

Carl: I love my job!

Earl: [while Carl is setting the trap for Frank at the Miami airport] Why won't he just take a taxi to New York or Atlanta?
Carl: Because *I'm* not in New York. *I'm* not in Atlanta.

Frank: Stop chasing me!
Carl: I can't stop, it's my job.

Tom: He doesn't have a passport.
Carl: For the last six months, he's gone to Harvard and Berkeley. I'm betting he can get a passport.

[last lines]
Carl: There's impressions on every line... looks like the original amount was for $60...
Frank: [walks up and takes magnifier] Mind if I take a look?
Carl: [looks up] Cashed in Flagstaff a week ago. Cost the bank $16,000.
Frank: It's a real check.
Carl: Yeah. Yeah, it's been washed. The only thing original is the signature.
Frank: But it's perfect, Carl. I mean, this isn't hydrochloride or bleach.
Carl: No. Something new. Maybe a nail polish remover where the acetone removes the ink that's not been printed?
[long pause]
Carl: How did you do it, Frank? How did you cheat on the bar exam in Louisiana?
Frank: I didn't cheat. I studied for two weeks and I passed.
Carl: Is that the truth, Frank? Is that the truth?
Frank: I'll bet this guy steals checks out of mailboxes. He washes off their names and he puts on his own.
Carl: You're saying he's a local?
Frank: Well, if it were me, you know, I'd call the bank first... check out the balance...
Carl: Make sure there's enough money in there to make it worth your while...
Frank: You know, Carl, I think this guy's pretty smart.
[Carl laughs]
Frank: Now, all we have to do is catch him.

Carl: [Frank is making one last attempt to run by impersonating a pilot once again. Carl catches up with him at Dulles Airport] How'd you do it, Frank? How'd you pass the bar in Louisiana?
Frank: [Frank continues to walk. Carl walks several paces behind] What are you doing here?
Carl: Listen...
Frank: I'm sorry I put you through all this.
Carl: You go back to Europe, you're gonna die in Perpignan Prison. You try to run here in the States, we'll send you back to Atlanta for 50 years.
Frank: I know that.
Carl: I spent four years trying to arrange your release. Had to convince my bosses at the FBI and the Attorney General of the United States you wouldn't run.
Frank: Why'd you do it?
Carl: You're just a kid.
Frank: I'm not your kid. You said you were going to Chicago.
Carl: My daughter can't see me this weekend. She's going skiing.
Frank: You said she was four years old. You're lying.
Carl: She was four when I left. Now she's 15. My wife's been remarried for 11 years. I see Grace every now and again.
Frank: I don't understand.
Carl: Sure you do. Sometimes, it's easier living the lie.
[Frank stops, Carl catches up]
Carl: I'm going to let you fly tonight, Frank. I'm not even going to try to stop you. That's because I know you'll be back on Monday.
Frank: Yeah? How do you know I'll come back?
Carl: Frank, look. Nobody's chasing you.