Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

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Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is a 2017 film about a mother who personally challenges the local authorities to solve her daughter's murder when they fail to catch the culprit..

Directed and written by Martin McDonagh.

Mildred Hayes[edit]

  • [live on the news] My daughter Angela was murdered 7 months ago, it seems to me the police department is too busy torturing black folk to solve actual crimes.
  • [live on the news] This didn't put an end to shit, you fucking retard; this is just the fucking start. Why don't you put that on your Good Morning Missouri fucking wake up broadcast, bitch?
  • Y'know what I was thinking about today? I was thinking 'bout those street gangs they had down in Los Angeles, those Crips and those Bloods? I was thinking about that buncha new laws they came up with, in the 1980's I think it was, to combat those street-gangs, those Crips and those Bloods. And, if I remember rightly, the gist of what those new laws were saying was if you join one of these gangs, and you're running with 'em, and down the block one night, unbeknownst to you, one of your fellow Crips, or your fellow Bloods, shoot up a place, or stab a guy, well then, even though you didn't know nothing about it, and even though you may've just been standing on a streetcorner minding your own business, what these new laws said was you're still culpable. You're still culpable, by the very act of joining those Crips, or those Bloods, in the first place. Which got me thinking, Father, that whole type of situation is kinda like your Church boys, ain't it? You've got your collars, you've got your clubhouse, you're, for want of a better word, a gang. And if you're upstairs smoking a pipe and reading a bible while one of your fellow gang members is downstairs fucking an altar boy then, Father, just like those Crips, and just like those Bloods, you're culpable. Cos you joined the gang, man. And I don't care if you never did shit or you never saw shit or you never heard shit. You joined the gang. You're culpable. And when a person is culpable to altar-boy-fucking, or any kinda boy-fucking, I know you guys didn't really narrow that down, then they kinda forfeit the right to come into my house and say anything about me, or my life, or my daughter, or my billboards. So, why don't you just finish your tea there, Father, and get the fuck outta my kitchen.
  • [while planting flowers at the billboards, Mildred is startled by a deer that has crossed an open field and is now standing near her] Hey baby... Yup, still no arrests. How come I wonder? 'Cause there ain't no God and the whole world's empty, and it doesn't matter what we do to each other? I hope not. How come you came up here out of nowhere lookin' so pretty? You ain't trynta make me believe in reincarnation or somethin' are ya? 'Cause you're pretty but you ain't her... She got killed. Now she's dead forever. I do thank you for comin' though. If I had some food I'd give it to ya. All I got is some Doritos, 'n' they might kill ya, they're kinda pointy... Then where would we be?

William 'Bill' Willoughby[edit]

  • [in a letter] Dear Mildred, Dead Man Willoughby here. Firstly, I wanted to apologize for dyin' without catchin' your daughter's killer. It's a source of great pain to me and it would break my heart to think you thought I didn't care. 'Cause I did care. There are just some cases, where you never catch a break. Then 5 years down the line, some guy hears some other guy braggin' about it in a barroom or a jail cell. The whole thing is wrapped up through sheer stupidity. I hope that might be true for Angela, I really do. Second, I got to admit Mildred, the billboards were a great fucking idea. They were like a chess move. And although they had absolutely nothing to do with my dyin'... I will assume almost everyone in town will assume that they did. Which is why, for Willoughby's counter-move, I decided to pay the next month's rent on 'em. I thought it'd be funny, you having to defend them a whooole 'nother month after they've stuck me in the ground. The joke is on you Mildred. Ha ha, and I hope they do not kill you. So good luck with all that, and good luck with everything else too. I hope and I pray that you get him.


Mildred Hayes: So how's it all going in the nigger- torturing business, Dixon?
Dixon: It's 'Persons of color'-torturing business, these days, if you want to know. And I didn't torture nobody.

Dixon: What's the matter with you, saying that goddamn stuff on TV?... My momma watches that station.
Mildred Hayes: She doesn't know about the torturing?
Dixon: No. She's against that kinda thing.
Willoughby: Who's against what?
Dixon: My momma is against persons-of-color-torturing. She said nigger-torturing. I said, You can't say nigger-torturing no more. You gotta say persons-of-color-torturing. Isn't that right, Chief?

Mildred Hayes: What's the law on what ya can and can't say on a billboard? I assume it's ya can't say nothing defamatory, and ya can't say, 'Fuck' 'Piss' or 'Cunt'. That right?
Red Welby: Or... Anus.
Mildred Hayes: Well I think I'll be alright then.

Willoughby: I'd do anything to catch the guy who did it, Mrs. Hayes, but when the DNA don't match no one who's ever been arrested, and when the DNA don't match any other crime nationwide, and there wasn't a single eyewitness from the time she left your house to the time we found her, well... right now there ain't too much more we could do.
Mildred Hayes: You could pull blood from every man and boy in this town over the age of 8.
Willoughby: There's civil rights laws prevents that, Mrs. Hayes, and what if he was just passing through town?
Mildred Hayes: Pull blood from every man in the country.
Willoughby: And what if he was just passing through the country?
Mildred Hayes: If it was me, I'd start up a database, every male baby was born, stick 'em on it, and as soon as he done something wrong, cross reference it, make 100% certain it was a correct match, then kill him.
Willoughby: Yeah well, there's definitely civil rights laws that prevents that.

Geoffrey: I just wanted to say, there's a lot of good friends of Bill Willoughby in this town, Ms. Hayes...
[Mildred grabs the dentist drill Geoffrey is holding and drills a hole into his right thumbnail]
Geoffrey: Goddamn it!
Mildred Hayes: Then why don't you tell those good friends of Bill Willoughby to tell him to go do his fucking job, fat boy.
Willoughby: Hey there Mildred! You didn't happen to pay a visit to the dentist today, did you?
Mildred Hayes: [her mouth still numb] No.
Willoughby: Uh?
Mildred Hayes: I said "no".
Willoughby: Oh, so it wasn't you who drilled a little hole in one of big fat Geoffrey's big fat thumbnails, no?
Mildred Hayes: Of course not.
Willoughby: Huh?
Mildred Hayes: I said, "Of course not".
Denise: You drilled a hole in the dentist?
Mildred Hayes: Denise, no, I didn't.
Willoughby: Well, I thought it was kind of funny myself, but he wants to press charges, so we're gonna have to bring you in, I'm afraid.

Angela: Why are you never on my side, Robbie?
Robbie: I'm always on your side when you're not being a cunt!
Angela, Mildred Hayes: Hey!
Mildred Hayes: There will be no more "cunts" in this house. You got that, mister?
Robbie: What? Are you moving out?

Willoughby: [in a letter] Jason, Willoughby here. I'm dead now, sorry about that. There's something I wanted to say to you that I never really said when I was alive. I think you've got the makings of being a really good cop, Jason, and you know why? Because, deep down, you're a decent man. I know you don't think I think that, but I do, dipshit. I do think you're too angry though, and I know it's all since your dad died and you had to go look after your mom and all, but as long as you hold on to so much hate, then I don't think you're ever going to become, what I know you want to become - a detective. 'Cause you know what you need to become a detective? And I know you're gonna wince when I say this, but what you need to become a detective is love.
Mildred Hayes: Fuck 'em.
[Mildred starts throwing Molatov cocktails at the police station, unaware that Dixon is inside it reading Willoughby's letter]
Willoughby: Because through love comes calm, and through calm comes thought. And you need thought to detect stuff sometimes, Jason. It's kinda all you need. You don't even need a gun. And you definitely don't need hate. Hate never solved nothing, but calm did. And thought did. Try it. Try it just for a change. No one'll think you're gay. And if they do, arrest 'em for homophobia! Won't they be surprised! Good luck to you, Jason. You're a decent man, and yeah you've had a run of bad luck, but things are gonna change for you. I can feel it.

Robbie: You old cunt!
Mildred Hayes: I'm not old, Robbie.

[Someone throws a can at the car]
Robbie: [trying to stop Mildred] Don't, don't!
Mildred Hayes: Hey there! You know who threw that can?
Boy: What can?
[Mildred kicks the boy in the crotch]
Mildred Hayes: How about you, sweetheart? You know who threw that can?
Girl: Uh, no, I didn't really see...
[before the girl can complete her answer, Mildred kicks her in the crotch as well]
Robbie: Thank you, Mom.

Mildred Hayes: [entering the police station] Hey fuckhead!
Dixon: What?
Desk Sergeant: Don't say "what", Dixon, when she comes in calling you a fuckhead, and don't you come in here...
Mildred Hayes: Shut up! [to Dixon] You, get over here.
Dixon: No! You, get over here.
Mildred Hayes: Alright.
Desk Sergeant: What? Don't, Dixon!
Dixon: What? I'm...
Desk Sergeant: You do not allow a member of the public to call you a fuckhead in the station house!
Dixon: That's what I'm doing, I'm taking care of it in my own way, actually. Now get out of my ass! Mrs. Hayes, have a seat! What is it I can do for you today?
Mildred Hayes: Where's Denise Watson?
Dixon: Denise Watson's in the clank.
Mildred Hayes: On what charge?
Dixon: Possession.
Mildred Hayes: Of what?
Dixon: Two marijuana cigarettes. Big ones.
Mildred Hayes: When's the bail hearing?
Dixon: I asked the judge not to give her bail on account of her previous marijuana violations and the judge said sure.
Mildred Hayes: You fucking prick!
Dixon: You do not call an officer of the law a fucking prick in his own station-house, Mrs. Hayes. Or anywhere, actually.
Mildred Hayes: What's with the new attitude, Dixon? Your momma been coaching ya?
Dixon: No. My momma didn't do that. [as Mildred leaves the police station house] Take 'em down, you hear me?
Desk Sergeant: You did good, Dixon.
Dixon: Yeah, I know I did.

Mildred Hayes: Hey, Dixon?
Dixon: Yeah?
Mildred Hayes: I need to tell you something... It was me that burned down the police station.
Dixon: Well, who the hell else would it have been?

Mildred Hayes: Dixon?
Dixon: Yeah?
Mildred Hayes: Are you sure about this?
Dixon: 'Bout killing this guy? Not really. You?
Mildred Hayes: Not really. I guess we can decide along the way.


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