1بخش

I believe in America.

America has made my fortune.

And I raised my daughter in the American fashion.

I gave her freedom, but I taught her never to dishonor her family.

She found a boyfriend, not an Italian.

She went to the movies with him.

She stayed out late.

I didn’t protest.

Two months ago he took her for a drive with another boyfriend.

They made her drink whiskey

and then they tried to take advantage of her.

She resisted, she kept her honor.

So they beat her like an animal.

When I went to the hospital, her nose was broken,

her jaw was shattered, held together by wire.

She couldn’t even weep because of the pain.

But I wept. Why did I weep?

She was the light of my life.

Beautiful girl.

Now she will never be beautiful again.

Sorry.

I went to the police, like a good American.

These two boys were brought to trial.

The judge sentenced them to three years in prison,

but suspended the sentence.

Suspended the sentence!

They went free that very day!

I stood in the courtroom like a fool.

And those two bastards, they smiled at me.

Then I said to my wife,

“For justice, we must go to Don Corleone.”

Why did you go to the police?

Why didn’t you come to me first?

What do you want of me?

Tell me anything, but do what I beg you to do.

What is that?

I want them dead.

That I cannot do.

I’ll give you anything you ask.

We’ve known each other many years,

but this is the first time you ever came to me for counsel, for help.

I can’t remember the last time that you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee.

Even though my wife is godmother to your only child.

But let’s be frank here.

You never wanted my friendship.

And you were afraid to be in my debt.

I didn’t want to get into trouble.

I understand.

You found Paradise in America.

You had a good trade, made a good living,

Police protected you and there were courts of law.

You didn’t need a friend like me.

But now you come to me and you say,

“Don Corleone, give me justice.”

But you don’t ask with respect.

You don’t offer friendship. You don’t even think to call me Godfather.

You said you’d come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married

and ask me to do murder for money.

I ask you for justice.

That is not justice. Your daughter is still alive.

Let them suffer, then, as she suffers.

How much shall I pay you?

Bonasera, Bonasera.

What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully?

If you’d come to me in friendship,

then the scum that ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day.

And if by chance, an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies.

And then they would fear you.

Be my friend?

Godfather?

Good.

Some day, and that day may never come,

I’ll call upon you to do a service for me.

But, uh… until that day

accept this justice as a gift on my daughter’s wedding day.

Grazie, Godfather.

Prego.

Give this to Clemenza.

I want reliable people that aren’t going to be carried away.

We were not murderers, in spite of what this undertaker says.

Where’s Michael?

Don’t worry, it’s early

We’re not taking the picture without Michael.

What’s the matter?

It’s Michael.

Don Barzini.