“Get Jack Reacher.” | Jack Reacher (2012) [Full HD Scene]

Who the hell is Jack Reacher? Jack Reacher. Born Jack, not John, no middle name. He's a ghost. No driver's license, car never expired, no residence, car no former. No credit cards, no credit history, no P.O. Box, cell phone, e-mail. Nothing. Can you at least tell me who he is? Well, I can tell you who he was. Blood military, born and raised on bases abroad. Mother was a French national, father in the Corps. His first trip to the United States was to attend West Point. Four years later, his ship's out for good. Iraq, Afghanistan, Balkans, you name it. Served with distinction. Silver star, bronze star, Legion of Merit. Defense Superior Service Medal. Had to look that one up. And a Purple Heart. He spent the bulk of his service in the military police. By all accounts, a brilliant investigator. Apparently a troublemaker, too. Demoted to Captain, looked his way back to Major. Then, two years ago, he musters out. After a literal lifetime in the military, he just up and quits. And then, for only the second time in his life, he enters the United States and simply disappears. Dead, maybe? Not according to Social Security and a bank account in Virginia. His pension is deposited monthly, and someone is making the occasional withdrawal. All wire transfers. I can't find out where without a federal warrant. Well, he can't drive or fly. At least not under his real name. Any warrants? Record's clean. Oh, come on. A guy this hard to find? Gotta be wanted for something. His record is clean. So? How do we find this Reacher? Obviously, you don't find this guy unless he wants to be found. Excuse me, sir. There's a Jack Reacher here to see you. Can I help you? James Barr. So, now you've seen him. How do you know him? Why was he in your protective custody? That was an oversight. More like some corrections flunky threw him to the wolves. Just as likely. But it's done, and we can't undo it. So what happens now? Well, now he's in a coma. We'll try him when he wakes up. If he wakes up. Okay? Now it's your turn, Reacher. Why did he call you as a witness? I don't believe he did. Well, I believe he asked for you by name. Any chance I could look at the evidence? No way. Not till you answer some questions. Nice meeting you. Hey. Mr. Reacher. Hey! Stop right there. We had a deal. I take you to Barr. You tell me what you know. I know you say he shot five people. I know he's in a coma. I know there's a bus station three miles away, and I can walk there in 24 minutes. You're just gonna walk out on your friend? He's not my friend. Why'd he ask for you, then? Well, same reason he shot five people. He's crazy. Hey, hold on. Don't do that. Well, this is a new low, even for both of you. You do not talk to my client without me present. You know that. We weren't talking to your client. He's in a coma, for Christ's sakes. You're Barr's attorney? Helen Roden, Jack Reacher. Jack Reacher? Helen Roden. Yeah, she's the district attorney's daughter. It's a good story, actually. I'd like to hear it. How'd you find him? How'd they find you? You can't be talking to this man. Two strikes and one hit. It's not what it looks like. He came to us. You went to the DA? Is there a log-in set? None you're currently breaking. Come on, before this gets awkward. Um, hey. Say, uh, see you in court. For me. Goodbye, detective. Weird meeting you. Likewise. Let's go. So. So you're Jack Reacher. So you're the DA's daughter. Oh, Jesus, please. Is that even legal? Fortunately. How does that happen? I'll tell you after deposition. But you don't want to depose me. Oh, well, you're my only defense witness. I'm not a defense witness. Your friend James thinks you are. He's not my friend. Why does everyone assume that? Well, why else would he ask for you? And why would you come here to help him? I didn't come here to help him. I came here to bury him. Linsky. Who the hell is Jack Reacher? So why are you so hard to find? I'm impossible to find. Why is that? Well, you could say I started out as an exercise and became an addiction. Are you on the run? If you're leaving, you better hurry, counselor. How do you know James Barr? Why are you representing him? I'm a lawyer. So is a public defender, which has as much chance of clearing Barr. I'm not trying to clear him. I am just trying to keep him off death row. By proving he's insane? Well, that's one option. And sticking it to your father because... No, not my father. The office of the district attorney. Because the office of district attorney never bought you a pony. DA Roden's never lost a capital case. You know why? Impeccable tailoring. He never picks a fight he can't win. Worked for the Red Baron. Every murder suspect in this town is given a choice. Confess or face death against a DA who never loses. My firm has reason to believe more than one innocent man's gone down without a fight. I get it. You're an idealist. No. I'm a pacifist. It's a noble crusade. But this is not the fight. Trust me. James Barr's guilty. You haven't even seen the evidence. Is this a privileged conversation? Of course. It's a client conference. Nothing you say here can be repeated. There are four types of people who join the military. For some, it's family trade. Others are patriots, eager to serve. Next you have those who just need a job. Then there's the kind who want illegal means of killing other people. James Barr was one of those. He made sniper. Trained hard. 2,000 rounds a week. With every shot, he's taught to visualize the base of a man's skull through his reticle. The spot where the medulla meets the spine. Visualize that puff of pink mist. Finally, he's deployed to Iraq. He's put on overwatch. All day long, he stares through a scope at civilians. Women. Children. Day in, day out. For two long years, without ever once being cleared to fire a single shot. Then comes the drawdown. James Barr, the war's over. 2,000 rounds a week. A quarter million rounds in his career. Not one at a human target. You've been hungry. You've had an itch you can't scratch. Imagine that feeling. Days. Weeks. Years. Imagine that feeling times 200,000 plus 50,000 more. Imagine it's 130 degrees on the deck and tomorrow you're going home. And you know if you don't scratch that itch now, you never will. You need a lease. You need a target. And the who of it never once enters your mind.