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Sheriff Joe Haller: [to the mob, lead by Andy Fairton] The law has a name for what you people are planning. It's called "private justice". And private justice is about a step and a half away from lynch mobs and hang ropes. Now I may be no J. Edgar Hoover, but I am the law in Tarker's Mills. I want all you people to go home.
Andy Fairton: Don't let this guy scare you! What's he done since this whole thing started but hang his face out? He ain't got so much as a fingerprint!
Owen Knopfler: Shut up, Andy.
Andy Fairton: No, don't tell me to shut up.
Herb Kincaid: Yes... Shut up. I just came from my boy's funeral.
Sheriff Joe Haller: Herb. Herb, I know how upset... how grief-stricken you must be.
Herb Kincaid: He was torn apart.
Sheriff Joe Haller: I know that. I...
Herb Kincaid: Upset? Grief-stricken? You don't know what those words mean. My son was torn to pieces. Pieces! [shouts] MY SON WAS TORN TO PIECES! You come in here and talk to these men about private justice? You dare to do that? Why do you go out to Harmony Hill, Sheriff Haller, and dig up what's left of my boy Brady... and explain to him about private justice. Would you want to do that? As for me, I'm gonna go out and hunt up a little private justice.
[walks out of the bar]
Andy Fairton: [to the mob] You heard him. Let's go!
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