Law & Order (1990–2010): Season 4, Episode 17 - Law & Order - full transcript

Briscoe and Logan catch three unrelated homicide cases in one shift: an aspiring actor shot in his car, a Lorena Bobbitt copycat who killed her husband, and a grocery store owner killed in a robbery.

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In the criminal
justice system...

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups:

the police who
investigate crime...

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

Who can figure? They
lose to Indy at home.

And I gave 10 points.

Hey, it rains, it's
anybody's game.

For that kind of green, they ought
to be able to play in quicksand.

Hey, buddy, it's
the tooth fairy.

It's cold out. Let
him sleep it off.



The guy's got a room with
a view. I should be so lucky.

Hey, you put your money on
Miami, and you too could live in luxury.

Couple of lovebirds all the
way from the Lone Star State.

Gee, I only see one head.

Maybe she dropped
something. Yeah, that's it.

Want something done
right, you gotta do it yourself.

Wake up call.

So you found him? Yeah.

Usual tour. Kids
leave the clubs...

come here for a little
up-close-and-personal

before going home to Mom.

I assume no witnesses?
Just Mr. Trump over there.

Thanks. Okay.

How you doing, fellas?



Jerome here, sacked
out on the park bench.

Jerome, tell us you
saw the whole thing.

A guy give me $10. And
you went swimming in it.

$10? That's a lot of
money. I had to celebrate.

After the party, did
you see anything?

St. Francis of Assisi. He told
me to keep up the good work.

Right. Yeah, I've
been there, pal.

Name's Ken Scofield.
License from Amarillo, Texas.

$100 in his pocket,
half his head blown off.

Looks like he had
company in the car.

So we got any
prints? More than that.

Oh, maybe he got a
little too fresh, huh?

You Briscoe and Logan? Yeah.

Station just radioed in.

Someone picked up a
half-naked girl trying to hail a cab.

Hope she didn't catch a cold.

Her name's Jill Templeton.

Swears it's her first
date with Scofield.

Oh, yeah? She made
a lasting impression.

They picked her up on
21st. She was topless.

Well, let's hope
she's still coherent.

I'll try to contact
Scofield's next of kin.

I didn't even really know him. We just
met that night at a club, The Garage.

Looks like you
became fast friends.

He bought me a couple of
drinks. He seemed like a nice guy.

He was a model. My magazine
had done some work with his agency.

Didn't you think you might be
more comfortable back at his place?

He said that he lived in Greenwich.
I had to be up early for work.

I couldn't drive all the
way to Connecticut.

I have a roommate.
We couldn't go there.

We just wanted
to see the sunrise.

That sounds romantic.

So then what happened?
He got a little too friendly?

What, you don't
think that I... No way.

Why don't you just
tell us what happened?

We were in the car, and
some lunatic was staring at us.

So Ken told him to
get the hell out of there.

And the next thing I know,
the guy pulls out a gun and...

All right, we're going to
have you talk to someone...

who's gonna make a
composite of this guy, okay?

Yeah, sure.

One thing, the guy wore glasses.

Thick glasses with black frames.

Let me ask you something.
Why didn't you call the police?

I never thought that...

I don't know.

Some nut just killed
Ken right in front of me...

and I got scared,
you know? I ran.

I started with girls, but then
who can compete with Elite?

The boys have been good to me.

And Ken Scofield?
My Midnight Cowboy.

Moved here from Amarillo
last year with his fiancée...

thought he'd make it in soaps.

And he didn't?

Ken's only talent was his pretty face,
and pretty faces are a dime a dozen.

So you're known as
the agency with a heart?

You don't realize what an
investment these kids are.

It's $1,000 for a photographer,
another $1,000 for a haircut and clothes...

and he was still working it off.

Well, he lived in Greenwich, so he
must have been doing something right.

Greenwich? He couldn't
afford the train fare up there.

Just yesterday I gave him a cash
advance to pay his rent on his place...

on West 25th Street.

He told me he was
in an all-day shoot.

Well, the fact is, he spent
the night at a club downtown.

He must've finished early.
He knew I was waiting tables.

He was shot in his car,
Dory. He wasn't alone.

We never should have
left Amarillo, but Ken...

He liked to try new things?

He wasn't cheating, if that's
what you're trying to say.

Dory, we found the girl.

Now, they weren't
talking business.

I thought it was...

just a thing that he was going through,
you know, being in New York, and all.

I knew that he would stop
as soon as we got married.

Dory, do you know of anybody
who'd want to hurt Ken?

Did he have any enemies?

We didn't even have any friends.

We were always working.

I worked a double shift
yesterday and never even saw him.

He didn't love them.

He loved me.

Hey, you remember that physical
therapist I was seeing last month?

Dr. Magic Fingers?

Yeah, well, after she heard a
message on my machine from Tena...

I was lucky she wasn't packing a pistol.
And I didn't drag her up from Texas.

Give me her
number. I'm into pain.

Either Dirty Harry moved east, or
somebody was awful mad at your boy.

A .44 through the brain.

That's an awful big
gun for a little lady.

Well, the first girl said
she saw a guy with glasses.

Maybe Dory's got more friends
than she'd have us believe.

And, what, she hired one of
them to get rid of Ken's roving eye?

Last I heard, $50
was the going rate.

We find a weapon, we'll
get back to you. Don't bother.

The slug's too mushroomed
to be any good to anyone.

A face like that, he ought to be
ringing doorbells and selling candy bars.

Maybe the guy is a
figment of the imagination.

What, the girlfriend's lying?

Hey, come on. She wants
to disappear into the night...

I think she'd take
her clothes with her.

What about Scofield's fiancée?

She said nobody held a grudge.

Yeah, well, I'm not so
sure she's including herself.

She knew the guy
was a lady's man.

I don't know. She doesn't strike
me as the type who could be there...

serving spareribs and beer, while
her fiancé's getting his head blown off.

The guy had a wallet full
of cash. It wasn't robbery.

Somebody wanted him dead.

Got a break. Patrol car just
called. They found a witness.

Oh, it was him. I'm
sure of it. I saw it all.

Well, what exactly
did you see, Zelda?

I like to sleep by the water, except
when the wind's coming from the west.

It's too damned cold.

What about last night?

Twelve miles an hour from the
east, but the buildings block it.

It's about all they're good for.
Anyway, it's a good place to sleep.

None of that bad element,
you know what I mean?

And the kids are usually
gone by 1:00, 2:00.

What kids?

The lovebirds.

We used to go out on the
Boardwalk at Atlantic Beach.

They can take my
apartment, my money...

but my memories...

Johnny Beecham,
that was his name.

Do you know the shooter? Are
you kidding'? Johnny's an allergist.

Boy, did he have
a set of lips on him.

Twenty minutes on the Boardwalk
with Zelda, you'd know what's what.

I'm sure he would, Zelda. Maybe
later, after we solve this murder case?

Right, the shooter.
Odd little fella.

Saw him around the
last couple of weeks.

He'd come and sit on a bench
right near me, over there...

pull out the binoculars,
and just stare.

Last night, it was just me and
him, and that couple in the car.

I went to get a cup of coffee,
and I heard the shot. Bam!

I looked through the bushes...

and there he was, waving
a gun around like a maniac.

Yeah, so, Zelda,
what did he look like?

Maybe 5'8".

Thick, black glasses,
like Mr. Magoo.

Did he happen to
mention his name?

Not to me. But Mr. Santana
in the deli around the corner...

I saw them talking once.

You know how many
people come in here?

After midnight? I doubt
it's like Macy's at Christmas.

Come on. Zelda told us she
saw you talking to the guy.

That crazy old bat.
What does she know? I

give her free coffee
just to get rid of her.

She knows a guy with thick
black glasses spent time with you.

Sorry.

Okay, but the next time he comes in
here make sure you don't short-change him.

Seems like he's got a gun, and
he's not too shy about using it.

What are you saying?

He blew a kid's head off last
night, two blocks from here.

I didn't know.

Look, you know how it is about
getting involved with police.

Again, is this the guy?

Kind of looks like him.

Last week some time. I
remember the glasses.

He was screaming about
the world going crazy:

"We got no rights left. You
can't park your car, anymore."

Stuff like that.

Then he ripped up a parking
ticket right in front of me.

Did you see what kind
of car he was driving?

A Chevy, I think. Tan, brown.

You guys are gonna
catch him, right? I doubt it.

Well, how many tan Chevys do you
suppose have outstanding parking tickets?

I'm sure our friends at the Parking
Violations Bureau can tell us.

But find this guy or not,
7:00 tonight I'm checking out...

'cause I got two courtside
for the Knicks-Rockets.

Where'd you get the dough
to sit in Spike Lee territory?

Couple of years ago, a 15-year-old
ticket scalper outside The Garden.

I looked the other way, worked
out nice for the both of us.

Well, hey, you want me to
book you now or after the game?

Hey, hey. I paid for them.

Police! Get out of the way!

You cops? That's what I said.

I think you better take a look.
Bruno D'Angelo's got screwed.

Well, Parking Violations
isn't going anywhere.

Help! I'm dying here!

That bitch killed me.

I think it's bad this time.

10-85, corner of Ninth
Avenue and 18th Street.

Somebody call the
cops. Apartment 2-A.

Somebody call the cops.

Police!

Hello? Police.

Jesus. Drop it!

The crazy son of a
bitch. This'll show him!

Lady, you just
assaulted a police officer.

Drop the pan! What the
hell do they know anyway?

Shut up! Bruno, he's
the one you should arrest!

Shut up! God almighty!

Go save him! Go
ahead! Go save him!

Hold still. Put your hands down.

Put your hands down.

He should never use it again!

It's gone. She cut
it off. She cut it off.

What the hell?

She cut it off. It's gone.

She cut it off. It's
gone. She cut it off.

Where is it?

This'll make you
keep it in your pants.

Keep looking, Belcher. Yeah,
right. What do I do when I find it?

Put it on a leash and
walk it to the hospital.

Go ahead, rip my house apart!
You'll see all your asses in court!

Mrs. D'Angelo, you can get rid
of all these troops in a minute.

Just tell us where.

Like hell. Why don't you call
that tramp, Connie Bucci, up?

She likes it so much,
let her sniff it out!

Dogs can do that,
you know! That bitch...

Okay, we've heard enough of your
crap. Now just answer his question.

Yeah, big Mr. Cop here. What is it,
all you macho studs in it together, huh?

If it was me that was missing, you'd
wait 24 hours before you sent someone.

They'll hang you, you bitch.

And you and that slut
are gonna burn in hell!

Cornuto disgraziato!

Logan, we got a winner.

You find it? Yeah.

Well, get it on ice and
over to St. Vincent's.

Let's tack on littering, too.

After the Bobbitt case,
we're gonna see a lot of this.

Yeah, I know a lot of guys who'll
be sleeping with one eye open.

She might as well have
just put it through his heart.

That's not very compassionate.

What kind of life is this
guy gonna have without...

What? You know.

Maybe he's got loftier pursuits.

Like what? You think
he plays the clarinet?

I hope he plays the clarinet.

What do you have on Scofield?

Parking Violations came up with 47
outstanding parking tickets on tan Chevys.

Profaci's running them.

Van Buren.

Thanks.

Bruno D'Angelo just died.

Cardiac arrest on
the way to the hospital.

Yeah, I'm gonna get a lawyer, and
I'm gonna sue that bastard for alimony.

I think your husband might
have a better claim, Mrs. D'Angelo.

I just want to have a nice dinner
with my husband of 12 years.

Is that so much? But no.
Where's Robert Redpants?

I'll tell you where. He's out sweating up
the sheets of every tramp east of Jersey.

Well, we're gonna see how
his sex drive is now, won't we?

It's a homicide.

What is he saying?

Your husband's
dead, Mrs. D'Angelo.

No, not my Bruno.

When Kenny left Amarillo, I didn't
see any point in staying in Texas.

I live in Memphis
with my sister.

God, I begged him not to leave.

But that girl...

Dory, the waitress?

She convinced him that he
was born to be on Broadway.

Well, it's a tough business.

So he had his 15
minutes in the spotlight.

Was it worth it, Kenny?

Excuse me? A Broadway show.

I had pneumonia. I missed
opening night, and then...

it closed before I was
well enough to travel.

Why would anyone
do anything like this?

We think it was a
random shooting.

You don't have
any idea who it was?

Well, we know he
drove a tan Chevy.

Well, when can I
take the body home?

I want to bury him. I want
to bury him next to his dad.

I'm afraid, Mrs. Scofield, it's
going to have to be a couple of days.

We'll be in touch, ma'am.

I used to tell my mom I
was getting A's in chemistry.

Let's find that car, huh?

No, I said a tan Chevy.

I don't know what
kind of gas he bought.

You don't understand how hard
it was to get these tickets, Cile.

We're talking two
first-place teams.

I just want to know
if you got a license.

Well, what about
a credit card? Yes.

On the floor. Okay. Thanks.

Two on the floor. So, Mrs. Schwinger
can get her electrolysis tomorrow night.

You sure?

Right. It's your lucky day.

What makes you think I'm
so easy? Hey, tip-off is at 7:30.

There's a Scott Hexter
in Interrogation One.

A traffic cop from the 22 stopped
him from skipping a red light.

Should this interest us?

Mr. Hexter drives a brown Chevy. Seems
he has 12 outstanding parking tickets.

Please tell me he wears
thick, black glasses.

My guess, he can't see the
big E at the top of the chart.

All this for a red light?

It's a little more involved
than that, Mr. Hexter.

Yeah, I know, I have
the parking tickets.

No, we're talking
about a murder.

I didn't kill anybody.

Were you in Battery
Park last night?

Why would I go there?
That's not the question.

Someone matching
your vitals was seen there.

I wasn't there. Okay, I
give up. Where were you?

None of your business.

You know this guy? No.

Well, let's start again. Somebody
who looks very much like you...

put a bullet through
this guy's brain last night.

This is nuts. I'm getting
outta here. And right into a cell.

I want a lawyer.

He's hiding something.

Yeah, and until he shows us what it is,
all we got him on is the parking tickets.

His lawyers'll get
him out in 24 hours.

Which is enough time to get
somebody to pick him out of a line-up.

Meanwhile, find the gun.

We need a warrant.
Signed, sealed, and delivered.

Scott's a good
guy, I'm telling you.

Ties his bags,
never makes noise.

Changes his
underwear once a week?

Yeah, well, the troublemakers are the
pair upstairs, them and the damn dog.

A landlord's dream,
perfect tenant.

At least he's not a health nut.

Oh, yeah. But he does
take care of himself.

That's a .22. Scofield
was shot with a .44.

Well, maybe he uses
this one for practice.

We've got all the time in the
world. I can't tell. It was dark.

You want a closer
look at any of them?

Number two.

Number two, step forward.

How about number four?

Number four, step forward.

No, it's number two.
Thank you, Miss Templeton.

Goose eggs, Counselor.

You're forgetting Mr. Santana.

A maybe. Even if my client
was in his deli last week...

boosting your
cholesterol isn't a crime.

He had a gun. It was licensed.

Besides, it was the wrong caliber.
You've got the wrong guy, fellas.

There's still the 12
unpaid parking tickets.

You're kidding, right?

No wonder this
city's going bankrupt.

We'll be in touch.

No witnesses, no weapon. We couldn't
even get past a grand jury with this.

Hexter's not playing
straight with us.

But he may not be a murderer.

So he pays the
tickets, and he walks.

Your report said something about
the bag lady seeing him at the scene?

She relocated. Nobody knows
where, but we've got an APB out on her.

That D'Angelo woman's attorney's
here. You're in for a special time.

Self-defense? You've gotta be
kidding. Her husband was asleep.

He was passed out. A
bottle of Chianti'll do that.

Either way, the
guy's unconscious.

You know, if you'd turn off
ESPN for a minute, Detective...

maybe you would have heard of
something called battered wife syndrome.

Are we talking about
the same woman?

Her husband spread it
around, she went nuts.

That's right.

She felt an irresistible impulse
after years of being abused.

Hey, come on, Mike,
haven't you learned...

that every homicide has
social and political ramifications?

Do you have any
proof she was battered?

You, of all people, know the
difficulty in proving rape, Miss Kincaid.

She never mentioned
rape. She was in shock.

Or maybe you believe that a
wedding ring gives her husband...

the right to toss her onto the
bed and do to her what he will?

No, but it doesn't give her the right to
take a knife and mutilate her husband...

except maybe in Manassas County.

Miss Kincaid, had she come to
your office and filed a complaint...

just how quick would
you be to prosecute?

We would have
considered all the facts.

Please. When was the last time
you convicted anyone of marital rape?

You don't know? I
will tell you. Never.

People get convicted of murder.

We got another homicide,
15th and Second.

We're going for a record.

What scares me is
the day's not over yet.

My mother was in the stockroom. I
was filling the shelves in the back.

I heard this guy yelling at
my dad to give him the money.

Did you get a look at him?

Just the back of his
head. Skinny, black guy.

I heard the gun go off.
Boom, like a cannon.

Maybe he didn't think
my father smiled enough.

After he fired the
shot, what did he do?

He ran out.

Did you see which way? Did
he go left, right? What did he do?

I went to my dad. I called 911.

The register's empty.
Some rummy outside says...

he saw Dinkens run out with
a bag of money and a six-pack.

I guess times are tough all
over, huh? Excuse me, Detectives.

We got the playback all cued
up for the security cameras.

David, I want you to bring
your mother back here, okay?

All right, now have
her take a look at him.

He was in the store yesterday.
He cashed a government check.

Does she remember his name?

My father was supposed
to go to the bank today.

Disability check.
Drew Washington.

How about where he spends it?

She doesn't know.
He's a crackhead.

There's a local supply shop on
16th Street. Let's go pay a visit.

All right, come on,
move it. No shoving.

This isn't what you think.

Yeah, I know. It's a
meeting of the Rotary Club.

Okay, boys and girls,
shut up and gather round!

Now, we're looking for a
man named Drew Washington.

Drew Washington.

The first one with the right
answer gets a hall pass outta here.

Yeah, the rest have to go
down to the principal's office.

Any takers, raise you hands.

Drew Washington can kiss my ass.

I'm gonna take that as a
maybe. You stand over here.

This is whack, man.

What, man?

You got something you
want to share with the class?

I don't gotta say nothing
without my lawyer.

That's a good
answer. Sit him down.

Anybody else? All right, take the
rest down and read them their rights.

Let's go.

First name? Theresa.

Theresa. Let's take
a walk. Come on.

Now, I look at you, and I see
possession with intent to sell.

You ain't even searched
me. I got x-ray eyes, man.

But if you tell me something about
Drew Washington, maybe I'd go blind.

I don't want no
trouble with the dude.

Hey, anybody asks,
we got it from her.

Look, I don't hang out with
no Drew Washington, all right?

How white do you think I am?

Plenty. Look, I like my face just
like it is, all the pieces together.

You know what I'm saying?
Okay, well, if it comes up...

he told us.

Deal?

Look...

he was here a while ago, you know what
I'm saying? He scored a lot of rock, right?

And he wanted me to go party with
him, but I ain't like that, see, 'cause...

I gotta at least like the guy,
you know what I'm saying?

Well, Drew's party
shack, where is it?

Do you know?

Come on.

♪♪

Hey, Drew!

Oh, man.

A bullet right through the heart.
Scratch him from the line-up.

Yeah, I miss him already.

Drew Washington.

How much money
your guy say he had?

At least three bills.
Nothing in his pockets.

So they got his money and
his drugs. Wiped him out.

Help!

Stay with him.

Help! He's gonna kill me! Help!

Down? Yeah.

Help!

Help!

Help! He's in the laundry room.

He's all cracked up!

You! Freeze! Freeze!

What the hell is that?

Put the burrito down, señor.

You die.

Only if I eat that thing.

Check his coat.

We got Omar Cabezas and friend.

It's got one round
used, recently.

Hey, Omar, what do you want to bet
that bullet's in Drew Washington's chest?

Hey, policeman. I had fun.

Hey, Mikey.

Between the bagels
and the burritos...

you're gonna need some one-on-one
with Richard Simmons, huh?

Yeah, food isn't fattening
if you only wear it.

You had to tell them, right?
Come on, lighten up. It's funny.

After four stiffs,
I'm all giggles.

You know what? One of these
days I'm gonna pack up a Winnebago.

And go where?
Upstate. New Hampshire.

Right. I spent a year
there one weekend.

Hey, guys, a detective in
Queens caught the morning news.

It was déjà vu all over again.

They were off Myrtle
Avenue in Forest Park.

A couple of kids conducting an
anatomy class in the back seat of a Volvo.

Some nut jumps out of the
bushes, caps lover boy with a .44.

Scott Hexter.

One and only. Some local busybody
recognized him from a composite.

Guy has no alibi, we bring him
in. Couldn't make anything stick.

Yeah, we're familiar
with his Teflon suit.

Straitjacket'd be a better fit.
Sixteen hours under the lamp...

and all he's worried about is
Mommy finding dirty dishes in the sink.

Nut job still lives with her.

Since when? He lives
in a rabbit hutch off 21st.

Maybe weekends. This
fruitcake lives in Kew Gardens.

Scottie has a little place
he goes to in the city.

He's always home
after a day or two.

I guess there's some things you'd
rather not do in front of your parents.

I'm not one to pry, but a mother
knows. Scottie's a grown man.

Does your mother's intuition tell
you about Scottie's grownup hobbies?

He has one
passion, horticulture.

He works at a florist's
on Woodhaven.

You should see our garden in the summer.
His rose bushes would leave you gasping.

I'm sure they would, but
we'd really like to see his room.

Why do you people keep picking
on him? Scottie's an innocent boy.

Ma'am, could we
just see his room?

All right, but it's unfair.

The last time the police were here,
they got the wrong idea about Scottie.

My late husband, Sam,

was very proud of his service
during the war, in Korea.

Scottie inherited
some of that pride.

Sam even taught
him to fire a pistol.

Besides that antique there,
does Scottie own any other guns?

Why don't you ask him?
He should still be at work.

I guess he wasn't
in a hurry to tell you.

We've got him in custody
down at the station house.

I'm afraid you're
wrong, Detective.

I paid those parking
fines a few hours ago.

I didn't want Scottie spending
one more minute in that awful place.

I don't give a damn, Morgan.
That file was red-tagged.

That's right, you should have
talked to us before you let him go.

He's a murder suspect.

Let me talk to Profaci.

You don't walk from Kew
Gardens to Forest Park.

It's back to the DMV we go.

Profaci. Yeah, it's me.

Uh-huh. Great.

Ballistics has the results on that
slug they pulled from Drew Washington.

The .38 in Mr. Cabezas' jacket matches
the slug they took out of Drew Washington.

We'll get him ready for
arraignment. Kincaid wants him...

and D'Angelo in front
of the judge by 8:00.

Oh, she can have him by 7:00, because
by 7:30 I plan to be at the Knicks game...

up close and personal
with the City Dancers.

Well, Lennie, if you
get jammed up...

my kids would love to see
Starks do the pick-and-roll.

Hey, I'm sorry, but I'm really
gonna need the change of pace.

Yeah. Four bodies in one day.
I'll put in a call to Mr. Guinness.

Our favorite scofflaw just hit the Lotto.
He ran out the meter in Forest Park...

15 minutes before the
guy in Queens was shot.

Want to come out
of there, Scottie?

What now, I forget to pay
my toll on the Triborough?

They don't give out tickets
for shooting people, Scott.

Would you put down the shears?

Scott Hexter, you're under arrest
for the murder of Ken Scofield.

You have the right to remain
silent. Anything you say can and will...

be used against you in a court
of law. Do you understand that?

You have a right to an attorney.

My God, Scott.

Don't worry, we'll
water him once a day.

This is crazy. How many times do I have
to go through this? I didn't kill anybody.

Yeah, but every time some kid gets
whacked with a .44, your name pops up.

But I wasn't anywhere
near Forest Park.

Names, places, minute-by-minute.

If it checks out,
you're outta here.

I went to the movies.

If you have to lie, put some effort
into it. Give me the name of the movie.

I can't remember. I
go to a lot of movies.

You want to tell him how
deep this hole is getting?

It's perfectly reasonable
to me if he can't remember.

If my life depended on it, I'd remember
how many kernels of popcorn I ate.

But I didn't do anything wrong.

Look, the police in Queens
put him through 16 hours of this.

Except for a caffeine high and distended
bladders, they walked out with nothing.

They can't keep me here
that long again, can they?

We'll keep you here 16 hours
or 16 days. We don't care.

One thing's for sure. We're not
going anywhere, and neither are you.

Why do you keep
doing this to me? Why?

Because you're a sick bastard who gets his
hee-haw's out of killing innocent people.

- I am not crazy.
- Sit down.

I want to get out of
here. Sit down, Scottie.

What they're saying
about me, it's not true.

It'll be worse on the 6:00 news.

They're gonna put you right
up there with the Son of Sam.

Detective, please.

They're gonna pitch a tent
outside your mother's house...

and they're gonna dig
up every piece of dirt.

No. They can't do that to her.
She's been through enough.

Then admit what you did,
you gutless piece of crap!

What do you want from
me? The truth, Scottie.

I can't... I can't...

That's it. No more questions
until I talk to Ben Stone.

No, no, no. You don't get a
plea bargain until he starts talking.

Plea bargain? What
are you talking about?

We'll discuss it later, Scottie.

I'm not going to jail.

I didn't hurt anybody. I swear to
God I didn't. Please don't put me in jail.

We're about ready
to toss in the towel.

Can't his lawyer
get through to him?

His lawyer can't
even turn off the tap.

We were walking Hexter back
to his cell, and he was still crying.

Any chance he could
be telling the truth?

Hey, he knows where the door is.
All he has to do is give us an alibi.

This guy's a box of Fruit Loops.

One minute he's pruning
the flowers in the garden...

the next minute he's playing...

with Daddy's guns
in the bedroom.

Just for drill, run down all the open files
with similar M.O.'s for the past year.

Maybe we can tie some
of those to Mr. Hexter.

Nobody's listening to
me. What are you, deaf?

Hey, you. I want to talk to you.

You know, you got no heat
in here, man. I'm freezing.

Do I look like the boiler man?

Well, then get me
something to eat.

I'm getting hungry
in here. Sit down.

Hey, why are you guys torturing me?
At least give me a cigarette, all right?

Sit down and shut up.

I said give me a cigarette,
now! You pigs, I'll kill you!

I'll kill you!

Hey, give me those keys.

Get him off of me. Pig, Pig!

I want something to eat.

I want... What are you gonna do?

Hey, you're repressing me!

You want to eat? Eat
that. Eat it! Stop this.

Eat it.

Mike, Mike, Mike!
Come on, take it easy!

Come on, get him off.
Get him in the back.

Watch your weapon.

No problem. I'm feeding the
animals. You got an aspirin?

"Case number 454312.

"People v. Omar Cabezas.

"Charges are murder
in the second degree...

"assault in the second degree,
possession in the second degree."

I didn't do it, Your Honor.

I'll enter that as a not
guilty. Miss Kincaid?

Remand, Your Honor.

Mr. Cabezas is a violent offender
with numerous convictions.

While in custody he
assaulted several officers.

Mr. Cabezas says that he's
a victim of police brutality.

That's right, Your Honor. A lot of times.
I mean, look what they did to my face.

I hear violins, Mr. Cabezas.

The defendant's
remanded without bail.

You said I would get bail. Next.

"Case number 454324.

"People v. Scott Hexter.

"Charge is two counts of
murder in the second degree."

My client pleads not
guilty to all counts.

No bail, Your Honor. Mr. Hexter is
accused of two brutal serial murders.

Mr. Hexter has roots in the community,
Your Honor, and he's gainfully employed.

And he kills people
for relaxation?

Don't waste my time, Counselor.
Remanded without bail. Next.

"Case number 454306.

"People v. Louisa
Catherine D'Angelo.

"Charges are manslaughter in the
first degree, assault in the first degree."

Give me a plea, Ms. D'Angelo.
My client pleads not guilty.

I want to change that, Your
Honor. I want to plead to guilty.

Louisa? Your Honor,
the plea is not guilty.

That's not right. I
did it, Your Honor.

Ms. D'Angelo, I suggest
you listen to your attorney.

But, Your Honor, I did a
terrible thing. I killed my Bruno.

Fine. The court accepts
your plea of guilty.

Your Honor... It's her
choice, Miss Kaskel.

Now, on the subject of
bail? $200,000, Your Honor.

Your Honor, I object. My client is
being denied the advice of counsel.

She's the one denying
it. Remanded. Next.

What do you expect, Claire?
She's a victim of long-term abuse...

and guilt is a normal symptom.

She killed her husband,
that's why she feels guilty.

She castrated him, for
God's sake. It's a cry for help.

She plead guilty,
Mildred. She's confused.

She had no idea
what she's doing.

You know I can make a
motion to withdraw the plea.

What do you want? Man
two, with a recommendation.

Why don't you go for simple
assault? She serves six months.

One woman in the
box is all I need...

for the world to see Louisa
D'Angelo is the victim here.

If the police
report checks out...

man one, 4-to-12.

I'll talk to my client.

Louisa D'Angelo never filed
a complaint with this office.

Well, you know most abused women
don't file a complaint until it's too late.

Yes? Okay, tell him
I'll get back to him.

Scott Hexter's lawyer.
I'm sure he wants a plea.

Do we have anything to negotiate
with? A lot of coincidences.

If he is a serial killer, there's a chance
he's been at it more than a month.

I've got Briscoe and Logan
looking back 10 years.

Richard Gill, 24.
Body found in Corona.

Shot with a .38.
Assailant unknown.

Scottie shoots a .44. Maybe
the gun was in the shop.

Here, Tercel Johnson, 18, found
in his car near Highbridge Park.

Popped twice in
the head with a .357.

What? Scottie comes to Harlem?

I'll mark it as a possible.

We got shootings
with various calibers.

In the car, out of the
car, uptown, downtown.

But nothing that matches Hexter's
preferred mode of self-expression.

Know why that doesn't surprise
me? Motor Vehicles sent this down.

Report on a hit-and-run
last night in Riverdale.

Tan Chevy, same plate as Hexter's,
10 minutes after Scofield was killed.

Is it possible he
was in both places?

Sure, with a pair of
wings and a good tail wind.

Otherwise, he'd need at least
15 minutes to get up to Riverdale.

What are we saying here? The
wrong man's sitting in Rikers?

Or somebody got the plate
numbers mixed-up on the hit-and-run.

Look, the car
was in Forest Park.

He fits all the composites.
He's got the glasses.

What are the odds?
He's gotta be the shooter.

Or the unluckiest man alive.

I'm tired of fighting you.

I'm innocent, but no matter
what I say you're gonna get me.

Mr. Hexter, that's not true.

Then what am I doing here?

Why does he want me to plead guilty?
I don't understand what's going on.

If you could account
for your whereabouts...

I told the police, I was at the movies.
I was nowhere near Forest Park.

And last night? Your car
was seen in Riverdale.

I went for a ride. I was by
myself. I was just driving.

I'm sure that your lawyer
has explained to you...

the value of an
uncorroborated alibi.

Scott, I can't help
you if you keep lying.

I am so sick of this. Why can't you
just believe me? I didn't kill anybody.

Well, if Bauer's
trolling for a plea

bargain, then, by all
means, toss him a fish.

Adam, I don't recall Hexter
saying that's what he wanted.

Let Bauer worry about
selling it to his client.

I'm not convinced
he's guilty of anything...

except being in the wrong
place at the wrong time.

Yeah, I heard the same excuse
from a man in Dallas 30 years ago.

The next thing you're
going to tell me...

is that Hexter is claiming
that he was set up by the CIA.

But if he is a patsy, it's
partly his own responsibility.

He won't give us
a verifiable alibi.

How about there might
be a good reason why?

I can't explain any of this guy's
behavior, but I don't want to wake up...

a year from now feeling I've made
some kind of grotesque mistake.

A grotesque mistake...

would be allowing Scott Hexter to
shoot another innocent person in the head.

I can't present
this to a grand jury.

Have you got a compelling
reason for me to dismiss?

My son wouldn't hurt a
soul. He's not that kind of boy.

The police say he was in the area
when the Queens boy was shot.

They have his parking ticket.

That wasn't Scottie.
I got that ticket.

It was his car.

St. Mary's was having a
food drive for the homeless.

I needed Scottie's car to bring
the canned goods I collected.

Well, your son didn't tell us.

He didn't know.
He was in the city.

I simply paid the ticket.

I still don't understand how the
police could think he murdered anyone.

Scott refused to give
us an alibi for last night.

If he has one, why
wouldn't he tell us?

Mrs. Hexter?

He has a friend in the city.

He doesn't think I know.

My husband would have
thrown him out of the house.

I think I can find the name.

Last night we had takeout
Chinese at Scottie's.

He worries someone
might see us holding hands.

So after you read each other's fortune
cookies, what was on the menu then?

A quiet evening on the couch
and a couple of bottles of wine.

Life is a cabernet. Did
you spend the night, Julian?

Scottie wouldn't let me. I
tried taking a taxi at 2:00.

Scottie ended up
driving me home.

And where's home? Riverdale.

We got a report
on a hit-and-run.

That's what this
is about? Maybe.

There was ice on the street, and
Scottie bumped into a parked car.

I guess he'd had a
little too much to drink.

I told him he should
leave a note on the car.

That would have
saved us a lot of trouble.

He's so concerned
with appearances.

It's his father. The man's been dead
15 years, and he's still scared of him.

Hexter's his boyfriend. He'd
do anything to cover for him.

Maybe it was Julian on
the hit-and-run in Riverdale.

If he's concerned about
Hexter's well-being,

why didn't he step
forward earlier?

Maybe he's got the
same hang-ups as Scottie.

Hey, Mike. They
found your girlfriend.

So far, we got the
blow-by-blow on boyfriends...

1 through 106.

This old girl makes
Madonna look like a nun.

How you doing, Zelda?

Detective Mike. Come
and sit down next to Zelda.

You had those yearnings, so you
got everybody out looking for me.

No, this is business. It's
about the guy with glasses.

I've been keeping an eye
out, but I ain't seen him.

Yeah, I got a picture
I want you to see.

Who's this? Well, you tell us.

He's not Mr. Peepers.
He's too young...

and the face is too chubby.

This one looks
like a mama's boy.

I'll call Ben Stone.

Tip-off's in an hour.

How long does it
take to find this guy?

Hexter, Scott. We got
a release order for him.

Ray?

What happened to number 484...

1935?

Yeah, him.

I got a couple of suits
getting pissy out here.

Okay.

They got him at the infirmary,
gentlemen. Through that door.

We're looking for prisoner
Scott Hexter. He's inside.

Scott Hexter?

He was eating dinner. Somebody
stabbed him with a sharpened toothbrush.

Took his baloney sandwich.

It won't be long...

before the real Mr. .44
racks up another kill.

I just hope he
does it in the Bronx.

Well, I'm gonna go home
and hug my kids. Good night.

Night. See you.

It's gotta be halfway through
the fourth quarter, by now.

There's always
overtime. Come on, Mike.