An imaginary small town of Norman, Texas, ostensibly near San Antonio (where this film is shot), has a police force composed of, with but one exception, professional assassins from its chief down to its dispatcher, each on the payroll of a local racketeer who makes use of these paid killers to dispose of zealous law enforcement officials who are opposed to his operations. When the last remaining honourable member of the force, played by Glenn Corbett, is slain, his brother-in-law Rick Kelly (Dirk Benedict), a homicide detective from one of the (undetermined) Kansas City departments, attends the funeral to console his sister, after which he begins an investigation of his own that flies in the faces of common sense and continuity. The picture is produced in large part by San Antonio area residents who, therefore, fill some small roles and the pedestrian direction is attributed to "Darrell Davenport", who is actually the competent cinematographer Ken Lamkin, but it is the stale and grating scoring of Jeff Marsh and the poorly devised script by Wayne Wynne that are principally responsible for the work's banal quality. Lance LeGault, as the tainted police chief, is effective as usual, Corbett's final performance (he died shortly after its completion), as the last honest policeman in Norman is welcome, and Lise Cutter spices the proceedings with a delightful turn as a journalist and Rick's love interest; Benedict, however, is typically bland and, for some reason, the video package displays him intimately posing with substituted Tonie Perensky, who is cast as the moll of the crime boss, typical of this ragged production.
