Frank Abagnale Sr.: Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn't quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out. Gentlemen, as of this moment, I am that second mouse.
Carl Hanratty: [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 Abagnale, Jr.: [Frank continues to walk. Carl walks several paces behind] What are you doing here?
Carl Hanratty: Listen...
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: I'm sorry I put you through all this.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Abagnale, Jr.: I know that.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Abagnale, Jr.: Why'd you do it?
Carl Hanratty: You're just a kid.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: I'm not your kid. You said you were going to Chicago.
Carl Hanratty: My daughter can't see me this weekend. She's going skiing.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: You said she was four years old. You're lying.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Abagnale, Jr.: I don't understand.
Carl Hanratty: Sure you do. Sometimes, it's easier living the lie.
[Frank stops, Carl catches up]
Carl Hanratty: 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 Abagnale, Jr.: Yeah? How do you know I'll come back?
Carl Hanratty: Frank, look. Nobody's chasing you.
Doctor Harris: I blew it didn't I? Why didn't I concur?
Frank Abagnale Jr.: Ah, people only know what you tell them, Carl.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [whispering to Joanna] Hey... You should fold it.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: That note. It's a fake, right? You should fold it.
Joanna: It's... It's a note from my mom. I have a doctor's appointment.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Yeah, but there's no crease in the paper. When your mom hands you a note to miss school, the first thing you do is, you fold it and you put it in your pocket. I mean, if it's real, where's the crease?
[Joanna folds note to give it a crease]
Roger Strong: Frank, would you like to say grace?
Roger Strong: Unless you're not comfortable.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Absolutely. Two little mice fell into a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned, but the second mouse, he struggled so hard that he eventually churned that cream into butter and he walked out. Amen.
[All say: Amen]
Carol Strong: Oh, that was beautiful. The mouse, he churned that cream into butter.
Principal Evans: Mr. and Mrs. Abagnale, this is not a question of your son's attendance. I regret to inform you that, for the past week, Frank has been teaching Mrs. Glasser's French class.
Paula Abagnale: He what?
Principal Evans: Your son has been pretending to be a substitute teacher, lecturing the students, uh, giving out homework, uh. Mrs. Glasser has been ill, there was some confusion with the real sub. Your son held a teacher-parent conference yesterday and was planning a class field trip to a French bread factory in Trenton.
Kid: More coffee, sir?
Kid: Are you a collector?
Carl Hanratty: Of what?
Kid: Captives of the Cosmic Ray, The Big Freeze, Land of the Golden Giants. I've got em all.
Carl Hanratty: What are you talking about?
Kid: Barry Allen. The Flash.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Hanratty: Thank you.
[cut to Carl using a payphone]
Carl Hanratty: Now get this: he reads comic books. Comic books! Barry Allen is The Flash!
Tom Fox: Carl, slow down, slow down. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Fox: But why New York?
Carl Hanratty: The Yankees! He said something about the Yankees!
Carl Hanratty: How'd you do it, Frank? How did you cheat on the bar exam in Louisiana?
Carl Hanratty: There's impressions on every line... looks like the original amount was for $60...
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [walks up and takes magnifier] Mind if I take a look?
Carl Hanratty: [looks up] Cashed in Flagstaff a week ago. Cost the bank $16,000.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: It's a real check.
Carl Hanratty: Yeah. Yeah, it's been washed. The only thing original is the signature.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: But it's perfect, Carl. I mean, this isn't hydrochloride or bleach.
Carl Hanratty: No. Something new. Maybe a nail polish remover where the acetone removes the ink that's not been printed?
Carl Hanratty: How did you do it, Frank? How did you cheat on the bar exam in Louisiana?
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: I didn't cheat. I studied for two weeks and I passed.
Carl Hanratty: Is that the truth, Frank? Is that the truth?
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: I'll bet this guy steals checks out of mailboxes. He washes off their names and he puts on his own.
Carl Hanratty: You're saying he's a local?
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Well, if it were me, you know, I'd call the bank first... check out the balance...
Carl Hanratty: Make sure there's enough money in there to make it worth your while...
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: You know, Carl, I think this guy's pretty smart.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Now, all we have to do is catch him.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [In a letter] Dear Dad, you always told me that an honest man has nothing to fear, so I'm trying my best not to be afraid.
Assistant Director Marsh: [Carl and Mr. Marsh are visiting Frank in prison; Carl hopes to convince the FBI to let Frank out of prison] I'd like for you to take a look at something, tell me what you think.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [Marsh hands Frank a fake check as Carl looks on] It's a fake.
Assistant Director Marsh: How do you know? You haven't looked at it.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: There's no perforated edge, right? This check was hand-cut, not fed. The paper's double-bonded, much too heavy to be a bank check. Magnetic ink, it's raised against my fingers, not flat. This doesn't smell like MICR, it's some kind of, uh, some kind of drafting ink. The kind you get at a stationery store.
Assistant Director Marsh: Frank, would you be interested in working for the FBI's Financial Crimes Unit?
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: I've already got a job here, you know. I, uh, deliver the mail.
Assistant Director Marsh: Frank, we have the power to take you out of prison. You'd be placed in the custody of the FBI where you'd serve out the remainder of your sentence as an employee of the Federal Government.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Under whose custody?
[Carl raises his hand]
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [as Frank Conners] Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is irrefutable evidence that the defendant is, in fact, lying.
Judge: Mr. Conners, this is a preliminary hearing. There is no... defendant. There is no... jury. It's just me. Son... what in the HELL is wrong with you?
Frank Abagnale Sr.: She's so stubborn, your mother. Don't worry, I won't let her go without a fight. I've been fighting for her since the day we met.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Dad, out of all those men - you were the one who took her home, remember that.
Frank Abagnale Sr.: Two-hundred men sitting in that tiny social hall watching her dance. What was the name of that town?
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: Montrichard, Dad.
Frank Abagnale Sr.: I didn't speak a word of French, six weeks later she was my wife.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: The truth is I'm not a doctor or a lawyer. I'm not an airline pilot. I'm nothing really. I'm just a kid in love with your daughter.
Frank Abagnale Sr.: Do you know what would happen if the IRS found out I was driving around in a new coupe? I took the train here, Frank. I'm taking the train home.
Carl Hanratty: 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 Agent Witkins: Carl, for those of us who are unfamiliar with bank fraud you mind telling us what the hell you're talking about?
Carl Hanratty: The East Coast branches are numbered zero-one to zero-six. The central branch is zero-seven, zero-eight so on, so forth.
Special Agent Witkins: You mean the numbers at the bottom of a check actually mean something?
Carl Hanratty: 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 Abagnale, Jr.: Christ! Terry! This is Italian knit.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: [donning a James Bond style suit and mimicking Sean Connery in the mirror] Hello, Pussy.
Sentencing Judge: taking into account the gravity of these crimes, your history of bold and elusive behavior, and your complete lack of respect for the laws of the United States. I have no choice but to ignore your request to be treated as a minor, and sentence you to twelve years in Atlanta's maximum security prison, and recommend strongly that you be kept in isolation for the entirety of that sentence.
[talking on the phone on Christmas Eve]
Carl Hanratty: I'll tell you what I am sure of: you're gonna get caught. One way or another. It's a mathematical fact. It's like Vegas: the house always wins.
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: ...Well, Carl, I'm sorry, but I-I have to go.
Carl Hanratty: You didn't call just to apologize, did you?
[starts to laugh]
Frank Abagnale, Jr.: What do you mean?
Carl Hanratty: [laughing] You have no one else to call!
[Frank slams down the phone]
Carl: I love my job!
[LAST TITLE CARD]: Frank Abagnale Jr. has been married for 26 years. He has three sons and lives a quiet life in the Midwest.
[LAST TITLE CARD]: Since his release from prison in 1974, Frank has helped the FBI capture some of the world's elusive check forgers and counterfeiters, and is considered one of the world's foremost authorities on bank fraud and forgery.
[LAST TITLE CARD]: Frank has also designed many of the secure checks that banks and fortune 500 companies use every day.
[LAST TITLE CARD]: For his services, these companies pay Frank Abagnale Jr. millions of dollars a year.
[LAST TITLE CARD]: Frank and Carl remain close friends to this day.