Pacing the streets of the South Side in the dark, dangerous, dragging hours before dawn, Kangaroo Kelly would often feed himself cheerfully this little morale booster: âAny of these mugs rub me out, even by accident, theyâre dead, too. And they know it. For thereâs six hundred cops in this town whoâll get them for it if it takes a hundred years. Iâm a cop. And you donât kill cops. Unless you want a fast ticket to hell yourself.â